#theorizing is not my strong suit I keep going in circles

[bookwyrminspiration]

rereading legacy and i keep fixating on the detail that in the dwarven King’s Path when Sophie’s having her hallucinations, as you do, she feels her own ears are pointy. while also hallucinating the Neverseen welcoming her with open arms. and this is during the time she’s looking into her bio parents.

I’ve leaned towards Gethen as her father fairly consistently and already made several posts about him and other potential fathers—including Fintan. but I’ve never though about how the ancient ears during the hallucinations may be another hint, as they’re a great place (and so are dreams) to include foreshadowing because they don’t have to make sense with the rest of the characters knowledge. like Sophie dreaming of Brant burning off her hand a book before his own was burned off

I’ve gone in circles on the topic but I’m coming back to consider Fintan again because of the pointy ear thing there. If it’s him, I assume the situation would be: he was approached as a scorned member of society (his connection to the Neverseen unknown) who Forkle thought would be sympathetic to the changes they’re trying to bring about, Fintan agreed in part because he agrees changes need to be made, and in part because he has a secret hope he could sway/get Sophie to his side via familial relation or something similar. that parentage would be catastrophic (fitting forkle’s comment) on many levels, originally because of the rules against pyrokinetics being matched and having kids (especially as a former councillor who is supposed to be better about the laws), and now for his murderous actions and criminal behavior

anyway. still no closer to definitively deciding whether i think her father is gethen or fintan (and don’t worry, im aware of evidence and reasoning beyond this post, this is about the king’s path detail) I’m just further complicated my theorizing attempts and writing it down to make sense of it

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 13

Tommy had handled everything up to this point with as much grace a demigod could muster. The addition of air assaults from attack helicopters, however, had finally robbed him of words.

It didn’t happen very often - hadn’t happened in years, really - but once his stress envelope was pushed too far, speech failed him. Too much noise, too much adrenaline, coupled with three days of no sleep and the immediate relief of Gordon’s wound being sealed had done him in. That was fine; he didn’t need to speak to pull a trigger. Not to mention Gordon and Benrey’s bickering was filling the air with enough words for the whole group.

He leaned his elbows against the railing at the top of the dam, catching his breath after downing an Apache, while the rest of the group argued over the control switch in a nearby tower. God, he was so tired. He didn’t necessarily need rest, but it did make his life easier. Every night they’d spent in the facility he’d stayed up to keep watch, or to keep an eye on Benrey, too nervous to sleep. The weariness had settled in his bones and stuck there.

Swimming through the dam’s turbines and emerging on the other side must’ve been the conclusion everyone came to, because Gordon stepped off the tower and took the plunge. Bold and fearless even while missing a hand, Tommy marveled as he watched. He winced when he hit the water several stories down. That can’t have felt good.

Bubby and Benrey followed suit while Tommy remained with Dr. Coomer at the top of the dam, zoning out. The desert brought on a whole new set of challenges, not only in the form of infantrymen and artillery, but also in the hot glaring sun overhead, in the searing sand underfoot. There weren’t any vending machines in the desert. They’d have to stick close to a water source as best as they could, for Gordon’s sake, at least. Tommy didn’t know what sort of enhancements had been given to Bubby and Coomer to prevent dehydration, but the one mortal member of the party surely wouldn’t last long.

“Tommy!” a distant call shook him from his thoughts.

He tipped his head down and saw the tiny orange dot that was Gordon Freeman, standing on a rock on the edge of the river below and waving his arms. Right, he needed to keep up. He raised a silent hand in acknowledgement, while Dr. Coomer vaulted over the railing and plummeted to the water below without hesitation. Tommy looked away so he wouldn’t have to watch the old man crumple like a coke can upon impact. Yeah, no, he wasn’t making that jump.

A blink later and he was standing beside Gordon and Bubby on the rock. Coomer was unpeeling himself from the bottom of the riverbed while the others squinted at the top of the dam. Tommy cleared his throat.

“Oh, there he is.” Bubby noticed him first. “He’s right here.”

Gordon turned, relief coloring his face. “Oh, you made it.”

Tommy offered him a wordless smile. I’m right behind you.

The river brought them through more pipes and tight spaces. Dr. Coomer, noticing that Tommy had gone unusually quiet, took it upon himself to keep the mood light as they traversed their new environment. It was a welcome reprieve, considering Benrey was more present and more talkative than he’d ever been before. They crept along through the gutter, flashlights in hand.

“What the hell is the point of this pipe?” Bubby asked.

“I don’t know” Gordon muttered, at the same time Dr. Coomer exclaimed, “This is where they keep the pipes!” sending everyone snickering.

Tommy made sure to give the scientist an appreciative glance when they emerged on the other side. The drone of circling helicopters could still be heard overhead, and they sheltered under an outcropping of red sandstone. Whoever had designed Black Mesa had done it in such a way that the facility looked like it was growing from the earth itself. Would’ve been pretty if it wasn’t getting riddled with shrapnel.

It was this sort of architecture that saved them, ultimately. Dodging the artillery would have been impossible otherwise. The team scurried through tunnels and chasms like rats, darting in and out of firing range as they traversed the unforgiving desert. At one point, Tommy found himself pressed shoulder to shoulder with Gordon behind the sandstone and could feel him shaking through his suit.

Unable to say anything, Tommy shot him a you okay? look as he racked his rifle. Gordon swallowed and nodded. The guy put on such an unflappable exterior. It was easy to forget that Gordon was as afraid as Tommy was.

Not afraid enough, however, to avoid going hand to hand with one of the soldiers they clashed with on a field of sand. Tommy was otherwise engaged, flushing out the infantrymen hiding behind a blind, and could do nothing but watch as Gordon grappled with his adversary several yards away. In the stormcloud of gunfire, he barely caught the soldier’s weapon discharge right next to Gordon’s head as he ripped it out of their hands. Gordon fired one, two, three shots into their helmet and they dropped.

All was still. While the others searched for a route onward, Tommy made his way over to Gordon, who let the M4 fall limply from his grip into the sand, breathing hard. A mixed swell of emotions was crashing around inside Tommy and he slapped a less-than-gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. His heart was hammering in his ribs.

He locked eyes with Gordon, hoping that the intensity of his stare would convey what he was thinking. Don’t ever do that again. You nearly gave me a damn heart attack.

Gordon laughed and shook his head apologetically.

Tommy scared him back, unintentionally, when the group wormed their way through a storm drain that emptied out onto a sheer cliff face. Everyone reeled with their own respective amounts of vertigo when they saw the drop. Even Benrey, whose careless facade had begun to chip ever so slightly after they’d run through a minefield, gave the chasm a wary look as he sauntered along the edge, hands in his pockets.

It was a beautiful view, despite the circumstances. The red and orange sandstone stood in proud, looming spires along the canyon. Below, a thin blue river glittered in the beating sun, ribboning through the rock in a way that was both gentle and unyielding. Tommy leaned closer to the ledge, taking in the landscape along with a deep, steadying breath. He allowed himself to have this moment. A few seconds of beautiful scenery in the middle of a war zone.

Gordon’s voice, shrill and startled, drew him back. “Okay, no, y- Tommy, Tommy,” he called.

Tommy turned. Gordon was beckoning him over, pressed against the canyon wall, a naked, fearful look on his face.

“Tommy, come back to me,” he pleaded. “You are too close to the edge.”

He glanced down and realized he was, in fact, mere centimeters away from the cliff’s sheer threshold. As Tommy took a generous step away, more out of consideration for Gordon than his own personal safety, he felt a strong hand grip the sleeve of his lab coat. He looked up and met Gordon’s stare, a nervous cocktail of worried and relieved, the same look Tommy had given him after that soldier nearly shot him.

The thought made Tommy smile. He gently unknotted Gordon’s fingers from his coat, his touch lingering a little longer than was necessary. Of course I’ll come back to you, the gesture said. I always will.

Benrey ruined the moment by daring Gordon to jump. “Maybe I’ll go if you go first,” Gordon shot back, and Tommy left them to argue as he moved on ahead.

The helicopters shredding the air around them set Tommy’s teeth on edge as they inched along the canyon wall. It was almost a relief to crawl inside another pipe, a welcome escape from the vertigo and the gunfire and the unforgiving sun. They emerged on the other side into a cistern of… something. Too blue to be water. Tommy stood up to his knees in it as his companions slumped, jelly-legged, against the walls. Coomer stretched out flat on his back, floating like he was in a swimming pool.

Benrey sat in the stuff so it was up to his neck. His eyes, usually bright and alert, were heavy with fatigue and a jaded scowl tugged at his mouth. Gordon stumbled out of the pipe last, and Benrey promptly chucked an aluminum can at him.

“Drink up, buddy,” he hissed. The can bounced impotently off the HEV suit’s armor casing.

Gordon pinned him with an irritable stare as he leaned against the cistern wall. “I’m not thirsty.”

“I’m thirsty,” Dr. Coomer commented in a weary attempt to defuse the hostility.

Benrey ignored him. “Hey, what happened to your arm?” he asked Gordon, crawling his gaze from the man’s face to his wrist.

Gordon’s response was tired. “I wanna kill you. I wanna make you dead.”

Tommy tuned them out as he studied the liquid swirling around his legs. He dipped a hand in it and rubbed his index finger and thumb together, feeling the pull of a sticky residue as he did so. Sugar? Gordon and Benrey’s argument escalated while Tommy touched a curious finger to his tongue. Oh, shit, he knew what this taste was.

As Tommy stood there wondering how the hell a vat of blue Powerade had wound up in the middle of the New Mexico desert, Benrey hauled himself out of the pool and approached Gordon with hostility, his characteristic sneer creeping back onto his face. “Looks like you’re a bit of a - looks like you fucked up there, huh?”

“I hate you,” Gordon ground out. “I hate you with my life.”

“I could drink soda forever,” Dr. Coomer - bless him; Tommy wanted to give him an award for his effort - called from his spot in the corner.

He was still only halfway paying attention, tracing his fingertips in a figure eight through the Powerade and theorizing about what sort of spatial displacement would have warranted this phenomenon. His train of thought was derailed when he caught a strange movement in the corner of his eye. Benrey lunged toward Gordon, interrupting him midsentence, and Tommy tensed, preparing for violence.

Gordon caught the entity with his good hand and pushed him gingerly backward, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. “Did you just try to kiss me?” he asked.

Tommy blinked, flicking a glance at Benrey. Did he? He hadn’t looked up in time to see. The entity stared back sullenly and a heavy, awkward pause settled over the group. Powerade sloshed in the wake of their movement.

Gordon passed a perplexed look to Tommy. To verify what happened? To gauge his reaction? Tommy raised and lowered his shoulders in a miniscule shrug. He wasn’t sure how he felt - how he was allowed to feel - about the entity advancing on Gordon. It wasn’t like Tommy had any claim to the man, and the action was as far from reciprocated as it could possibly get.

Benrey’s bored expression gave away nothing. It was... still rude, all things considered. Tommy was at least a little disgruntled on Gordon’s behalf, but he tried to keep this expression from showing on his face. Maybe he could pass it off as discomfort from the Powerade soaking into his socks.

Bubby finally broke the silence, impatient to get a move on. “Benrey, you’ll just have to kiss him after we leave,” he said.

“Save the-” Gordon nudged Benrey back until he was a generous arm’s length away. “Save the lovin’ for later,” he intoned awkwardly.

“You’ll just have to kiss Dr. Freeman after the test,” Coomer added, in the same tone with which one would say, “That’s never going to happen,” and Gordon turned away, laughing.

He sloshed through the pool past Tommy to move on, reaching out and skating his palm from his elbow to his wrist as he went. Tommy suppressed a shiver, unable to keep himself from feeling like the touch was a promise.

“Do you feel stronger being here?” he asked, the sensation finally knocking the words out of him.

Gordon paused and looked back. “Stronger?”

“This is where they make the Powerade,” Tommy said, playfulness broadening across his face.

Humor and bewilderment danced in Gordon’s eyes. “Oh, this isn’t water?” he asked. He skimmed a hand across the surface. “Do we manufacture Powerade?”

“Now, Gordon, it’s a common misconception that we’ve been putting fluoride in the water,” Dr. Coomer spoke up, giving Tommy a delighted grin at his return from silence. “Secretly we’ve been replacing it with Powerade!”

Tommy returned the scientist’s smile genuinely.

---

After thoroughly hydrating themselves, the group climbed out of the cistern into some sort of military compound. Tommy guessed by the sandbags and haphazard razor wire that this was a forward operating base, a temporary setup with the intent to clear out quickly. He’d be worried about the tanks if Dr. Coomer didn’t completely annihilate the first one they saw with a single hit.

It was the same dance they’d been performing all day. Run, shoot, hide. Provide cover fire for your buddy. Grit your teeth against the explosions and the shrapnel. Survive, survive, survive.

Tommy wondered if they could sue Black Mesa for permanent hearing damage. Alongside psychological trauma and grievous mortal injury. Add it to the list.

The compound was mazelike in nature, and the group was turned around more than one time trying to make their way through. Gordon, rapidly losing steam in the relentless blaze of the sun, glanced tiredly around at the concrete walls while sweat ran down his face.

“Which way should we go?” he asked, eyes landing on Tommy. “Like I said, you’re de facto leader.”

Oh, he had been serious about that. Tommy cast his eyes around for a way forward and caught a route they hadn’t tried yet. He vaulted over a fallen steel beam and kept going, trusting the others to follow.

Gordon did so without hesitation. “Okay, Tommy’s picking that way,” he called to the team.

“I don’t know why the child gets to lead us,” Bubby grumbled, tagging along begrudgingly.

Tommy opened his mouth to utter a retort, but Gordon beat him to it. “He’s thirty six!” he snapped.

“A mere child,” Bubby insisted.

Coomer was shaking his head at him. “He’s very brave,” he said.

Was he? Right now he was just tired, numbed by the combat, scoured on all sides like a stone in a tumbler. His rifle was heavy in his hands as he methodically filled soldiers with bullets. He didn’t feel brave at all.

Benrey displayed one of his fastest regenerations yet, perishing in a mine explosion and appearing mere minutes later on the roof of the building they were scaling. Tommy shot him a perplexed look, searching for an explanation, but Benrey merely trapped his tongue between his pointed teeth and winked in reply.

Once they were certain the area was clear, they hunkered down in a storage room, away from the glaring sun and the helicopter blades, to rest. Gordon slid against the wall and down to the floor, utterly beat. Tommy spared a glance at the ruin that was his arm. It didn’t look any worse - whatever his father had done, it was at least keeping the wound from siphoning away Gordon’s life - but it was still a place where a hand should be that a hand was not.

He felt a brief bloom of anger in his stomach, remembering the person responsible was in this very room with them. Along with… a skeleton, for some reason. It mirrored the entity’s movements like a rattling doppelganger.

“Hey, hey,” Gordon spoke up woozily. “Can we have someone on medical watch? Can one of y - if I start convulsing in my sleep, I need one of you to wake me up. I don’t know if I’m gonna wake up from this.”

Before Tommy could assure him that he was always on watch, Benrey approached Gordon, shoulder to shoulder with the skeleton and passport in hand. “Where’s yours?” he asked. A crossbow was cradled in his free arm, pointed in a casual threat at Gordon.

The man stared fearlessly back. “I give up,” he told him, acid in his voice. “I’m gonna go to bed. And if you shoot me in the head while I’m asleep? I don’t care. It’s fine.”

Tommy would care, and he made it known by the dangerous glare he pierced Benrey with. The entity ignored him and turned away while Gordon leaned his head back against the wall, sleep already taking him.

“Goodnight, guys,” he murmured. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

Tommy pressed his back to the cold concrete, rifle across his knees, to wait things out until morning. He was steadily growing used to the man beside him saying that every night. Gentle voice thick with drowsiness, long eyelashes fluttering shut. He rubbed the side of his face, willing himself not to fantasize and failing.

One day, when this was all over, they could have this.

“Goodnight.”

Chapter 12 <-----> Chapter 14

[justfangstvdto]

Open Coffin | Chapter 16: “Drunks, Lovers, Sinners and Saints”

Pairing: Kol x SalvatoreSister!Reader

Chapter Summary: Following Esther´s invitation, the reader attends the Mikaelson Ball, where more than one question might be answered

Warnings: heartwarming-fluff, angst, blood, typical tvd violence, canon divergence

Word count: 3817

Tags & Author Note at the bottom. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

Open Coffin Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

Where we left off: 

“Any news?” The voice of Mae´s partner in crime asks from the other side of the wall, to evade any kind of suspicion

“Not yet. Phase three is still in fully swing. Once Y/N talks to her I´ll let you know.” She says, keeping the volume low “ Oh, one more thing, you have to keep your mouth shut. Y/N cannot know. For both our sakes.”

“I won't say a word.”

“Is this our thing now? Sneaking away from parties?” You ask, sitting on the wide railing on the upper balcony, dangling your feet over the ledge, wrapped in Kol´s arms. Your dress is flowing in the wind, the twinkle lights wrapped around the lower part of the railing, shining through the thin fabric of your dress.

“It appears it is.” Kol smiles, his thumb caressing your hand he's holding in his grasp  “We're much better company than any of these fools.”

The sound of chatter and music carries through the open, white painted, balcony door. It reminds you quite a lot of the night you had in New Orleans all does years ago.

“I don't know. I heard Finn is a fun-loving guy.” You joke and Kol laughs, knowing that you would most likely bore yourself to death even talking to Finn. He has always been a nuisance.

Kol can only imagine how Finn's hanging on Esther's coattails. Ever the devoted son.

Pathetic.

“Don´t tell me I should I be worried about my bore of a brother.”

“You know I'll choose you over anyone.” You say, turning your head away from his chest, looking up to him.

He smiles, not uttering any words, but you understood all the same. His eyes express what his lips cannot. He lights up with the truth he never thought possible and his inner storm settles, his whole world right in front of his eyes, brought into focus by your words.

In that moment, it feels like nothing can touch you, nothing could even begin to try. Just for that fleeting moment, everything else melts away.

He leans down and gently grazes his lips over yours, the still present butterflies in your stomach drawing circles after circles. His hand grazes your neck and pulls you into him as far as the sitting position allows.

When he pulls away you chase after the kiss, your lips unwilling to let go, before you resettle, looking out on the unchanged scenery.  

“This view is breathtaking.” You say looking out on the unchanged scenery the dawning sun dipping everything in its way into his golden and soon dark red color as if the sun itself is bleeding away before rising like a phoenix in the early morning hours.

You felt like you bled out too, not sure if was your own shattered heart bleeding through the thinness of your skin, or if it was the blood of your victims. Either way, you´ve risen from the ashes and Kol did too. And you both have no intention of leaving the golden hours any time soon.

“It is,” Kol says, looking at you rather than the view. “Beautiful, magnificent, ravishing...there aren't enough words.”

By then you knew that he wasn't talking about the scenery “Ever the charmer, huh? You know, I do love you in a suit too.”

“Now simply add a top hat and a coat and we'd travel back in time.”

“Is that you want? Travel back in time?” You ask him, the tiniest bit of worry entering your mind. Would he rather turn the clock back then be here right now?

In all honesty, he never thought about it. But what he did consider is that if he had the opportunity he would´have walked a different path.

But that's the tragedy of choices. There is no chance to turn the clock back, no way of lowering the curtain of the past to slip through it. Still, he would´have prevented everything from happening. He would´ve never let you walk the earth alone for so many years.

But there is no such thing as time travel. The only thing he can do is keep you happy. And he made a vow to himself that he will do just that, even if it means bowing down this brother. He would do anything.

“No.” He answers finally “I'm happy right here, as long as you´re with me.”

“Oh, you won't get rid of me that easily. You´re stuck with me.”

“Good.” He smiles, pressing his stubbled jaw against the side of your head.

“As long as we don´t get that house I dreamed about we´ll be fine,” You say and Kol´s blood runs cold “ It was so weird and..ordinary. It looked like it was ripped out of-”

“An episode of desperate housewives.” Kol completes the sentence.

You sit up abruptly “What the hell? Did you have the same dream?”

The many possibilities of the origin of that dream run through Kol´s head, but the only conclusion he can find is that the dream might not be a dream at all

“I think it was not a dream, rather a vision.” He Says.

“A vision for what? For being human?” You theorize, only the thought of being human seems comical to you “That's not possible. Why would anyone show us that, let alone some random witch spirits?”

“I don´t know.”

“Probably just a prank. I would get bored if I´d be trapped in that creepy house too.” You say, wiping away every other possibility. Everything else would be too crazy, right?

“But it doesn't matter who it was,  we will happy anyway. I know it. We don't need to be human for that.

“No, we certainly do not. Besides, we´re a prime example of our species, wouldn't you agree? Or at least you are.”

“Don't sell yourself short. You´re Kol Mikaelson. One of the first vampires ever created, undeniably handsome and strong, and the most charming out of them all.”

“And you´re Y/N Salvatore, the woman of my dreams, Cunning, beautiful and the only one that I have ever loved. And ever will love.”

You melt into a puddle in his hands, his words as truthful as your that follow “I love you too. To hell and back.”

Your silhouettes join in for a kiss, the darkening sky drowned by your silhouettes.

Kol abruptly pulls away a few moments later, the presence of an uninvited guest startling him.

“Ever the intruder” Kol mutters to himself and you look over your shoulders.

It´s Stefan, standing in the doorway.

You didn't even notice he was there. Kol on the other hand did. He can't relax here with his brother around, so being on edge every second is the only solution.

At least for now.

“I´m sorry to interrupt,” Stefan begins, visibly nervous “ I..uh, can we talk? Please?”

“Sure. “

Kol clenches his jaw,  every fiber of his being screaming to stay here. Wouldn't be the first time siblings turn on each other. But even if it's difficult, he has to give Stefan the benefit of the doubt. At least once.

“Look, I, uh...I'm sorry” Stefan says after Kol closed the windowed door behind him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I hurt someone you love without thinking of the consequences. It was a rash and selfish decision.”

Stefan shakes his head “If someone deserves to be selfish for once, it's you.”He says, looking out on the garden that spreads out farther as the lights illuminates it “I shouldn't have been so angry.”

“I don´t know if I deserve any of it.” You shrug your shoulders “ I´m just.. I'm sorry you got hurt in the process. And Damon too. If Klaus wouldn't have come to Mystic Falls a lot of things would´be unfolded differently. You wouldn't have gone on a ripper binge, Elena's aunt would still be alive and I would´ve never stepped back into your life, tearing down everything you build here.”

“No, that's not it…”Stefan says and looks at you, the words not as easily escaping him as he would want “I'm glad you're here.”

“Even if I might leave again? Eventually?” You ask him carefully, the plan to travel the world with Kol still present in the back of your mind

“Even then.” He nods “You´ve done more for us than we ever did for you. You deserve to be happy, even if that happiness comes from a Mikaelson.”

Tears of relief fill your eyes, the reconciliation as well as the fact that he supports your relationship moves your than you ever thought.

“You're gonna make me cry.” You laugh, your vision already blurred by a few tears.

Stefan laughs as well, his tension falling “So we're good?” He asks.

“Of course we are.” You smile at him “You´re not the one I´m angry with. Damon on the other hand, he always has to open his mouth and criticize everything I do. The good and the bad, and I'm sick of it.”

“You know, Damon, he, uh, spend all morning doing a background check on your friend..” Stefan says, and you freeze, not knowing how to process that new information “He might not have the words for it, but her cares about you. He always has.”

“I know you want nothing more than for us to get along, believe me, I do too,  but it's not working out. It never has and I don't think it ever will.”

“You know, you two are similar than you think.” Stefan says, truthfully, without any hesitation “Maybe that's why he's so angry. Because he knows he would´ve gone down the same road you have if it meant saving Elena.”

“He really likes her too, doesn't he?”

“He does.”

“I´m sorry I catapulted you right back where you started. With Katherine.” But I want you to know that I meant what I said back in the creepy witch house; I will always look out for you. Even if I have to run into burning buildings again. No matter where each of us is and even if you´ll hate me one day, I´ll be there. Always.”

“I could never hate you.” He shakes his head “And don't beat yourself up. Damon and I we would´ve come to that point sooner or later. That's what we do. Just….Just try to enjoy yourself tonight. You deserve it. “

With the weight off your shoulders lifted, you step into the warm, contrasting room adjoining the balcony.

“I presume you and your brother reconciled?” Kol asks as you approach him and smiles as well, infected by your own

“I think we have.” You say, the overwhelming feeling of finally being back on the same page as Stefan, as well as the fact that having Kol here, so close, fills your entire body with bliss. You almost forgot how it felt like.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” Finns´ sudden voice turns your head “Y/N if you would follow me, please. Esther is ready for you.”

“I'll be right there.”

Right. Esther. It somehow completely slipped your mind she wanted to talk to you.

“Very well,” Finn says and takes his leave.

“It seems everyone wants to steal you away. I don't like it.” Kol says, slipping his fingers in between yours, holding them.

“Seems like it, but I´ll be fine.” You reassure him, hoping it would cover up the agitation that´s building up “As soon as we´re done here we´ll pack our things and go. Just pick a destination and we´ll be on our way, okay? I have loads of road trip music to introduce you too.”

“I can't wait.”He smiles, almost believably at ease,  “Be careful.” He adds and plants a kiss on your forehead, a token of luck as well as a sign of his undying adoration.

“I always am.”

As your hands slip from his fingers, the fear within rising with every step you take. What if you don't return? God knows what his mother is going to do to you. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time fate has laughed in his face.

This time, however, he hopes that it will smile, rather than laugh.

The corridor leading to Esther is narrow, old candle holder still on the walls. Finn is waiting in front of a big double door, opening it. You presume to announce your presence. When he steps aside, however, to your surprise Elena leaves the room,

It felt like time was slowing down as your eyes cross, yours full of distaste, and hers, well, her eyes are full of regret. Perhaps she finally realized that she´s not so innocent as everyone claims her to be.  

Finn must´be sensed the tension between you, and he clears his throat, gesturing you to enter.  Ever so impatient Mikaelsons. Must be a family trait.

“Thank you, Finn.” Esther says upon your enter, and Finn closes the door on his way out.

Your senses are punished by the stench of burning sage and the copper smell of blood. What the hell went on here?

“Y/N, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. Please sit.” Esther gestures to a light colored couch “You must be wondering why I invited you here.”

“A little, yeah. But most of all, I'm wondering how you´re alive.”

“When I died, the witch Ayana preserve my body with a spell. She was a close friend of mine and an ancestor of Bonnie Bennett. That is how I am here, before you.”

“So you´ve been on the other side for 1000 years?” You ask “Probably wasn't a picnic.”

“No. It was nature's way of punishing me for turning my family into vampires.

“No offense, but I think it was Klaus way to punish you for lying to him all these years.” “Not that I´d ever justify any of Klaus´ actions ever, but you know…”

“No matter what or who decided to punish me, there is a way for me to undo the evil I created, matter of fact, the spell is already completed.” She holds up at a piece of parchment, a red substance on it, forming what could be recognized as a tree.

Blood. The red substance is blood.

“A binding spell.” Esther explains “To undo the evil with the same means I created it.”

She bound them together as one. She wants to kill them. But how?

She created vampires with the doppelgänger blood. That's when it hits you. The stench of blood, the guilty look on Elena's face - everything makes sense. She offered her blood to be the undoing of not one but all Mikaelsons, and with that Kol.

Numbness spreads throughout your body, the stomach-turning, fever-hot chill cursing in your veins, staining them. It's happening again. The noose is tightening.

“That's why Elena was here. You needed doppelganger blood.” 

“I see you are very well informed.” Esther says, quite surprised by your knowledge.

“So you invited me here to gloat? To see the look on my face when you destroy my happiness I just got back, is that it?”

“No. I invited you here to offer you a chance to release Kol of said spell.” She says her mouth quickly twisting into a triumphing smile at the surprise on your face. “I´ve watched you from the other side, and it is clear that you preserve the side of my son that I thought lost. I mustn't destroy that.”

“But you´re willing to destroy everyone else? You turn your children into vampires to keep them safe and alive,  just to turn your back on them now? Why?”

“I have to atone for my mistakes.” She says, the first time seeming sincere “That is why I offer you and Kol a peaceful life. Like I already showed you in my constructed vision of yours..”

“It was you.” You say, the pieces of the mystery of the strange dream finally falling into place “I knew it wasn´t just a dream.”

“It could be reality, Y/N.” She says the sound of her voice meant to bring comfort, yet it's just the opposite “You could live happily ever after, without knowledge of your previous…...lifestyle. As humans. That is my offer to you. An offer to set yourself free from the burden my family has set for you.”

You never felt comfortable in your own skin, and as a human, it was much worse. There are tales upon tales how vampires hate what they've become, who long for being human again. You couldn't be farther from it.

“All I ever experienced from being human is loneliness, abandonment and the suffocating feeling of being locked in a cell.” You swallow, only the mere thought of the close confinement, fueling your claustrophobia “Why would I possibly even think of going back to that when becoming a vampire brought me love and something to fight for? You really think I give all of this up, including my memory, for your fairytale?”

“You would deny my offer simply to resume your bloodshed? Without my son by your side?”

“Even if I would agree, which I am not, I couldn't decide for any life but my own. I couldn't choose Kol´s fate when time and time again his fate was chosen for him. I´m not gonna be one of those people.” You say, your voice shaking under your breath, barely hearable  “If you'd really wanted to save him, he would be here. He's not. You just want me to be in your debt for whatever you´ve planned next.”

“I see you made your decision." She sighs, her plan not working out as she might´ve hoped "How unfortunate.”

“Doesn't mean I won´t find a way to undo your spell.” You say with full confidence, knowing that anything less would only mean she wins.

“My dear, there is no undoing it. The blood of the doppelgänger bound my children as one. If one dies, all die.”

Meanwhile down the hall….

“I was hoping to get you alone.” Kol steps out of the balcony overlooking the front of the mansion, his voice echoes in the chilly night, dripping down on the old stone walls.

“Oh, great it's you.” Damon says, his voice dripping with sarcasm “ The reason my own sister betrayed me.”

“Now she's your sister? That's funny, you never seemed to care for her once in your pathetic existence.”

“Pathetic, me? What about you? How does it feel knowing that the second Y/N realizes she doesn't have to fight for you she'll get bored and move on? That's what she does.”

Kol growls at his words, and lunges at him with force, flying over the balcony´s ledge. Damon´s head hits the stone flooring, cracking open slightly on impact.  He tries to shove Kol off of him, by twisting his neck to the side, but he doesn't stand a chance.

Kol keeps him pinned down, punching away.

“You´ve done nothing but shove her away time and time again.” Punch “Condemning her for her mistakes” Punch “treating her like a dust particle on your clothes “ another punch ” when in reality you´re much worse than she'll ever be.”

Damon groans, blood pooling around his head his raven hair already damp with blood.  

“Listen to me very carefully,” He forcefully grabs Damon's bloodies jaw “if you dare to speak to Y/N like you have ever again, you will live to regret it. You do not want to make me your enemy.”

With a flick of his wrist his breaks Damon's neck, the sound echoing in the open entrance area.

He looks up to the balcony, measuring the height he just hurled  Damon over. He tilts his head to the side, satisfied with the outcome.

The door swings open just as Kol wipes the blood off his hands on Damon's suit jacket. You hurry down the stairs, tears running freely.

Your step falters for just a moment at the sight of Damon bloodied and bruised on the floor, but your sorrow overcomes every sense of empathy. You collide with Kol´s chest, pulling him as tight as possible. Who knows, it could be the last time. 

“Y/N….darling what´s wrong?” Kol asks, concerned.

“You´re gonna die. You´re all gonna die.” You sob into his shoulder and you could swear you could hear his heart stopping a beat. And not in a good way this time.

In that moment, it feels like everything can touch you, it wouldn't even have to begin to try. In that fleeting moment, everything that melted away comes flooding back.

For once Kol is glad to have his back turned, or his distress would have been obvious to people watching.

And as it happens, they are watching indeed.

“You were right.” Mae says, her face half covered in shadows by the upstairs window “Esther is not interested in any kind of reconciliation. If the rumors of the white oak are true, we have to make some preparations.”

“I trust you have a plan?”

“Of course I do. I´ll keep Y/N in check, you worry about your brother. He seems to lose sympathy as rapidly as you do.” Mae says, referring to his altercation with Damon “Watch his back, and not with a dagger this time.”

“Now now, love, don't underestimate my ability to play nice. You should know how pleasant I can be.” Klaus, her partner in crime says, stepping out of the shadows into the cold night light that´s pressing through the glass windows.

“Once perhaps. But you and I were nothing more than partners with the same goal in mind. And we´ll do what needs to be done even if everyone hates us in the end.” She says and turns to walk away, the work already cut out for her.

“Maeyra.”Klaus calls after her “I.. thank you. Without your assistance, my curse would still have a hold over me. I´ll remain forever in your debt.”

“And don´t think I won´t collect. Just try not to die in the meantime. Believe it or not this still means something.” She says, holding up her hand, her daylight bearing the same design as the Mikaelson´s before walking away, disappearing out of Klaus field of vision.

A/N: Surprise!!! The mystery person is none other than big bad Klaus. A lot of you guessed Elijah, which pleases me so much you have no idea. It means that my aversion worked out just as I hoped it would ;)

Also, I am personally really pleased with this chapter, a lot more pleased then I was with most of the previous ones. But what do you guys think? Let me know!! 

Open Coffin Taglist: (let me know if you want to be tagged!! // crossed outs are not taggable anymore)

@shadyladyperfection @thegoddessofvampire @newurleans @originalbish98 @christinalibertymikaelson @acourtofhopeanddreams @bonniebird @imnoaingeal @onlygodcanjudgeme-sh @vaniileiinkeks  @relmi-llorrac @piercethepottorff @maliae14  @5-seconds-of-animals @the-geeky-engineer   @rock-n-magick @flymeawayworld @givemesomehybrid @mikealsonlover @nuteller28 @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 @drkplum @fandooomqueenforyou @free-the-fangirl @clockworkballerina @twisted1ginger @superwholocksociopath474   @pacifyprincessxo @mustachio1616 @thealyana @sandyclaws @unicorntrooper @buckysummers @sanity-is-overratedxp @akshi8278 @lunna-star-8 @graysonmalfoy @woodworthti666 @elenavaldez02 @lilulo-12 @selmasemlan @thelostallycat @characterobsessed @cococola-cocaine @crazyinternetgirl @tvdplusriverdale @-thatgirloverthere- @alwxadria345 @trymexo @mizzezm

[woildismyerster]

Too Sweet

Jack had worried that Crutchie would be taken for a sap by a girl someday, but the reader puts that fear to rest.

Crutchie was too nice for his own good.

Jack had always worried about it a bit; what if the poor sap gave more than he could afford because of a pair of sad eyes and a convincing story?  It’s why Jack let Crutchie sleep in the penthouse, why the boys sometimes snuck extra pennies into his pockets if his cheeks looked hollow.

The greatest worry, one that practically gave Jack a heart attack, had to do with Crutchie meeting a girl.  Maybe the kid would pick a real winner, but Newsies usually ended up with girls not much better off than themselves.  With Crutchie’s admittedly low luck, he would probably try to woo a girl who would accept his money and time without intending to return any of it.  She would drain him, leaving nothing but a tragic husk of a boy who had foolishly expected the best from everybody else.

That was one reason it caused quite the stir when Crutchie came home one evening with flushed cheeks and new buttons on his shirt.

Elmer had been the first to notice.  “Whoa, Crutch, I didn’t know you were such a big spender.”

“Huh?”  He looked down and grinned.  “Nah, I didn’t buy ‘em.”

“Did you find them?”  That was doubtful, since the buttons were shiny and red and smooth, but the only other possibility-

Crutchie grinned, slightly baffled and very pleased.  “They was a gift.”

Race’s eyebrows were buried in his hairline.  “From who?  Jack?  His favoritism is so obvious I could choke on it, I swear-”

It shouldn’t have been possible for his smile to grow, but it did.  “From a girl.”

Race leaned in, a smirk growing.  “Our Crutchie, the ladies man.  A pretty girl?  Where do I get one?”

“She’s one of a kind,” he said.  His fingers brushed over the buttons with delight, but a new factor occured to Albert.

“Wait, how’d they get on the shirt?  I didn’t know you could sew.”

Crutchie blushed now, clearly embarrassed as he said, “I can’t.  She sewed ‘em on.”

The room erupted.  Jokes about seeing girls was always fair game, but this girl was something else.  Maybe Jack had worried about Crutchie giving too much to a girl, but they had never imagined a girl wooing him so hard he turned to a puddle of goo.

The teasing intensified as the days passed, but none of them could tell what girl was the suitor.  

“She’s gotta be somebody buying a paper, right?  We knows everybody else Crutchie knows,” Specs mused.  The group of the boys huddled in a circle, quickly eating mildly squashed sandwiches before hitting the streets again.

“Maybe, but the boy’s right about one thing,” Race admitted with a smirk.  “He’s got a smile that kills the girls.  Even without the limp, he could sell papes without a problem.  Could be any girl getting blinded.”

“You’s right about that,” Jack said.  He had stayed out of the theorizing, claiming that Crutchie could handle himself, but now he came and squeezed Race’s arm in greeting.  He threw an arm around Specs’ shoulder and gave a soft punch to Mush.  “Could be any girl.  Don’t wreck it for him by scaring her off.  If any of you’s scare her off, you’ll be answering to me.”

“Come on, Jack, have a little faith.  We won’t scare her off,” Finch said, mock aghast.

Mush laughed.  “If a girl is gonna be good enough for our Crutchie, she had better not be scared by us.”

Jack had meant it when he said that he wouldn’t interfere.  He knew that Crutchie needed to do this by himself.  Still, he had decided to interfere just this once.  While he was telling the others to back off, he kept one eye over his shoulder to see how long he would need to distract the guys before the girl left.

You didn’t usually read the newspaper, or at least you hadn’t, but the sweet boy had started a new phase in your life.  It had all started with a chance encounter.  

You were a seamstress in the downtown.  It was a great opportunity for you, really, and you knew that your family was thrilled.  An apprenticeship with a tailor was a guaranteed career, but you had been terribly overwhelmed.  After finishing a repair late, your boss had made you deliver the package yourself.  You had been riding your bike frantically in the middle of rush hour.  Biking had never been your strong suit, so it was no surprise that you wiped out.

Your tights had torn.  That was the first thing you noticed.  They were your only pair, so you stared at the ripped and slightly bloody holes at your knees for several seconds before realizing that you were still in the middle of the rush.

A hand tugged insistently at your elbow, dragging you to the sidewalk.

“Miss, what are you doing?  You’s gotta get out of the road,” the boy said urgently.  You looked at him with surprise, but didn’t take any of his appearance in as more of your stupidity sank in.

“The clothes!”  They had flown everywhere when the paper holding them together tore.  You staggered to your feet to grab what you could, but you knew that you couldn’t get it all on your own.

After several moments of searching, you held a pile of dusty, but thankfully undamaged, clothes.  You were a mess, your knees screamed, and your parents would kill you when they saw that you had wrecked some of your clothes that you couldn’t repair yourself, but you might not have the cost of the clothes taken out of your paycheck.  It would take months pay it off.

“Miss?”

You turned to see the boy holding a jacket out to you.  You had missed it in the mad rush, but he had grabbed it for you.  You grinned at him, and when he smiled back, you stopped breathing.  He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.  Messy hair, dirt smudged across his chin, and a smile that turned your legs to jelly.

“Thank you so much,” you croaked.

“Don’t mention it,” he said.  He half shrugged one shoulder, drawing your attention to the crutch and the oddly angled leg.  When your gaze travelled up to his face, he was looking away.

“Are you selling papers?”  The question came out of nowhere, maybe just a desperation to look in his eyes again, but it worked.

“Yeah?”  It was more of a question than an answer.

You pulled a penny from the pocket of your skirt.  It would be coming out of your lunch, but you wouldn’t have enough time to eat anyway.  “Can I have one?”  You took the jacket and the paper, smiling at him again.  “What’s your name?”

“Crutchie,” he said as he waved his crutch a little.

“Crutchie,” you echoed.  “Is this your spot?”

“The whole city is my spot,” he replied.  After a pause, he admitted, “I usually sell here, yeah.  Why?”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” you said.  “And don’t call me miss.  It’s Y/N, and you have saved my hide today.  I owe you one.”  The last part was called over your shoulder as you jogged back to your bike.  You didn’t miss the surprised smile that graced his face.

You had owed him one, sure, but you have more than filled that quota.  You had repaired a tear in his hat, sewed new buttons into his shirt, and split an ice cream cone with him, but you kept going back.  You paid extra for newspapers when you could, saying that you were tipping him for one reason or another.  Your parents were baffled by the sudden drop in money coming home, but you told them that business had been a little slow lately.  They didn’t need to know about the boy you had met.

“Hey, Crutchie,” you beamed.  “What’s the headline?”

“Pretty girl sweeps all of Manhattan off its feet,” he said in an official voice.  

You briefly glanced at the headline, warmth flooding your cheeks.  The front page screamed about a plague in California, but the dreadful news didn’t weather away the delight pooling in your belly.  You slid three pennies into his hand.

“What’s this for?” he asked, surprised.

“I heard that models make good money these days,” you replied with a smile.

“Geez, picture me, a model,” he laughed.  You loved the sound, even if it was a little self depreciating.

“Believe me, Crutchie, you are the handsomest boy on this side of the Atlantic.  If I had more to tip you, I would.”  You winked at him, enjoying the way his smile went a little goofy, and turned to go.  You would have to dash if you were going to have time for lunch before your break ended.

He grabbed your hand, staggering a little to keep his balance against the crutch.  “Wait!  Y/N, hang on.”  You turned back, squeezing his hand a little.  “Could I walk you home from work tonight?”

You froze.  You had thought maybe he was sweet on you, but you had never imagined that he could like you well enough to walk you home.  He would probably meet your parents if you did that.  What would they think?  

A sheepish smile bloomed on his cheeks, but his eyes dulled a little.  “It was just a thought, you don’t have to-”

You lunged forward to press your lips against the corner of his mouth.  “I get off at seven.  See you then?”

You were backing away when the wolf whistling started across the street.  The two of you looked over to see a small crowd of boys beamed.  There was a flurry of fists pumping, delighted hopping from one foot to the next, and ecstatic waves.  One boy, standing at the front of the group, rolled his eyes and gave Crutchie an apologetic smile.  He shrugged as though to ask what can you do?

Crutchie gave a huff of irritation, but you could feel the fondness thrumming through it.  “I’ll see you at seven.”

The both of you were as red as the buttons on his shirt, but you felt as light as air as you went back to work.

[sarah--writes-blog]

Space Dad Stomachache

Anon: Maybe something fluffy involving Shiro?

Anon: How bout someone feeling really nauseous and burpy and just wants to be comforted and looked after? Love ur work!!

A/N: It may have turned into my first Shallura work. We good? Good. 

I could’ve polished up a better draft, but I need to move on to another prompt. Embarrassed/flustered Shiro is hard to write.

Some sexy implications, but nothing amounts from it.

Allura was talking. Shiro really tried to pay attention, but his mind couldn’t attach to the words. She was debriefing the rest of the paladins about what was going on. Something about alien ambassadors coming to confirm an alliance against Zarkon? He wasn’t sure. He was too busy focusing on his stomach.

Ever since the Black Paladin woke up, his stomach felt...off. He felt nauseated, but never like he was going to vomit. He even managed to get breakfast down. No one else seemed to be feeling ill, so he didn’t mention it and feigned health the entire day. This was his mistake.

Allura finished her debriefing and left the paladins to their work. Coran followed her out the door, discussing political strong suits with her. This left the paladins looking to Shiro for instruction.

“Alright, guys. Like Allura said, this is important, so we have to make a good impression. We need this civilization on our side.”

“Allura didn’t say what they looked like,” Pidge noted, “Do you think they’ll be humanoid, or something else?”

She and Hunk went on a small tangent, theorizing about the new lifeforms. Shiro pressed a fist up to his mouth, forcing the trapped air up through his nose. He may have gotten comfortable with his fellow paladins and established a strong bond and trust with them, but he was not about to burp in front of them. He had standards. Standards that some of them proved to not have.

But of course, they picked up on it immediately. They were an observant bunch, Shiro could give them that. Keith was the first to speak up. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

Lance mimicked the motion, “That. You looked like you were about to double over. Are you alright?”

So they're working against me...Shiro thought, At least they're working together.

“I'm fine. It was nothing. Anyway, we need to shine up the deck before the ambassadors come. This may be our home, we may live here 24/7, but this place needs to be spotless by the time they- urrp!”

There was no hiding that one. It completely snuck up on him. The other paladins raised their eyebrows in surprise, some more impressed than startled.

“Dude, Shiro, nice one.” Hunk grinned, offering his fist to bump. Not sure how else to save face, Shiro chuckled nervously and returned the fist bump.

“Sorry. Is everything clear?”

The paladins nodded and attended to their chores.

Shiro thought that would’ve been enough. He just needed to get a bit of air up, that was it. But his stomach said otherwise. As the paladins cleaned the deck, Shiro had to continuously stifle burps coming up his throat. His stomach didn’t hurt, and he was sure he wasn’t going to throw up. He just felt uneasy, which was almost worse. At least if he was going to throw up, he could’ve gotten it over with.

No matter, he thought, It’s nothing to be worried about. There’ll be some time between cleaning the deck and meeting the ambassadors that I can relax and take some medicine.

Cleaning the deck proved to be more strenuous than anyone thought. It was more than just a mopping job and cleaning the windows with Windex. Repairs had to be made, screws had to be tightened, and Coran gave the paladins this strange fluid he called ‘deck polish’ that needed to be applied in zero-gravity. None of these actions helped Shiro’s stomach, especially the zero-gravity.

Meanwhile, the concerned comments kept coming, and Shiro kept deflecting.

“You look kind of pale.”

“It's the lighting. You look pale too.”

“Your stomach doesn't sound good.”

“Digestive noises are natural in the process of eating.”

“You keep holding your middle and moving slowly.”

“I tweaked a muscle in my abs during training.”

No one truly believed him. They could see right through him - something was clearly wrong. But when he snapped at Lance about asking any more questions, everyone went quiet. The only time Shiro ever snapped was at Slav, and when tension was raised in extremely dangerous circumstances. Never when the others were worried about him.

Shiro sighed. In reality, he wanted to tell the paladins. He wanted to admit that he hadn’t been feeling good and he just wanted to lay down. He knew that if he confessed, they’d understand and care for him, or at the very least leave him alone to rest. But he had to be strong. Ambassadors were coming, the ship needed to be clean, and he needed to be a figurehead for Voltron.

“I’m sorry, Lance. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just frustrated, and it was wrong to take it out on you.” He apologized. The Blue Paladin looked up at him, voice softer and more concerned than it’s normal tone.

“Shiro, you know you can tell us anything, right? We’re here for you, just like you’re here for us.”

Ah, yes. Lance’s uncanny ability to guilt trip anyone. All the paladins had it to some extent, but Lance mastered it (whether intentional or not). Shiro felt his resolve crumble a bit.

“I know. Thank you for being concerned. We’ll talk about it after we deal with the ambassadors.”

This was satisfying enough. The paladins went back to their work as Allura entered the deck.

“Shiro?”

“Yes, Princess?”

“I think there’s a problem with the quantum gearbox. We may need to manually resynchronize the primary and auxiliary auto-sequencers. The ambassadors would definitely notice if our gearbox wasn’t synchronized. Could you help me?”

Shiro truly had no idea what Allura said. He was smart, but there was some Altean tech that completely went over his head.

“Maybe Pidge would be a better person? She might actually understand...” he cut himself short, preventing all air from escaping his throat. There was burping in front of the paladins, but burping in front of a princess was another matter. Not to mention, a very beautiful princess he was romantically attracted to. That was unacceptable.

Allura smiled softly. She didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, you don’t need to understand. You just need to lift something big and press a few buttons at the same time I do. You might be more capable than Pidge.”

He couldn’t say no to that. After all, he was fine. But the thought of lifting heavy things made his stomach turn. It felt tight against his belt as if he’d drank two liters of soda in one sitting. He honestly wasn’t sure how long he could last before locking himself up in a closet and letting himself burp it all up.

“Of course, Princess.”

She lead him out of the room. Instead of taking a right towards the elevators, she took a left towards the housing units. Shiro was confused at first, but let it slide. He had no idea what a quantum gearbox was, why should he know where it was?

“Our gearbox is actually fine,” Allura confessed. She took another left and opened the door to her bedroom. “I just wanted to get you alone.”

Shiro’s eyes widened. He’d seen this situation before, he knew how it played out. Now was not the time, not with the ambassadors coming, not when he was feeling like this.

“Princess, we shouldn't-....not while the others might start looking for us...and I'm actually not feeling my best...” As he stammered, Allura took him by the hand and locked the door behind them. She brought him to the bed and sat him down.

“I know you aren't feeling well,” she pressed her palm against his chest, pushing him down into laying on her bed, “and for the millionth time. Call me Allura.”

Oh god, is this another Altean thing? Having sex while sick? Any other day, or at least with preparation, Shiro may have been willing to try it. Before he could protest, the princess was unbuckling his belt.

“A-Allura!”

The buckle flopped to the side, and suddenly Shiro felt like he could breathe. He still felt uncomfortably full, but he was no longer in any pain. His guard crumpled. He truly couldn’t take it anymore.

“What- huulp!,” he clamped is metal hand over his mouth, “I-I’m so sorry, Princess! I didn’t- hic-urrp! Sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’ve just- uulp! ”

He just stopped talking. This was an absolute nightmare. Shiro clenched his eyes shut and felt his face go beet red, waiting for the verbal assault Allura was about to give him about being polite. Instead, he got something much nicer.

“It’s alright, Shiro. Relax. Trust me.”

Allura traced her fingers up from Shiro’s belt and rested then right above the belly button. She started to massage in slow circles, starting just around his navel. At first, Shiro was skeptical. He always thought stomach rubs were an old wives tale to lure children into the placebo effect.

“You...don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind? It’s helping you feel better, isn’t it?”

“It’s just-” he paused for a bit, swallowing down another gulp of air that tried to force its way up, “It’s considered impolite.”

The princess cocked her head a bit, “Really? Not to Alteans.”

Shiro’s shoulders relaxed. That was exactly what he needed to hear. Still, he kept his hand over his mouth and apologized with each little hiccup.

Allura chuckled a bit, “Finally. I thought I’d have to give you a tranquilizer to get you to relax.” Her other hand raked his white tuft away from his forehead, simultaneously checking for a fever. “You aren’t warm...”

“It’s because I’m not sick. Something just isn't settling well, or something. My stomach’s been acting up all day.”

“The abdominal circulations aren’t helping?”

Shiro couldn’t help but smile, “They’re called ‘belly rubs’, usually. They feel nice, but I don’t think they’re helping-”

But Allura started to use her palm. Her slightly calloused hands glided across his skin, slowly but surely calming his stomach down. Before long, Shiro was completely melted under her touch, relief completely flooding his body.

“Where did you learn that? Is it some Altean trick?”

The princess smiled and laid herself next to Shiro, “It’s not Altean. Ever since I learned that the new paladins of Voltron came from Earth, I've been reading up on all your subjects. Anatomy is particularly fascinating to me.”

She said the last sentence with a bit of a telling smirk. Shiro went red. Allura may have had a different culture than he did, but she picked up on his fast.

But there was no exploring of anatomy that night. Allura gave Shiro medicine that would help him during the meeting. It went without a hitch, the ambassadors even commented on how nice the ship looked. And afterwards, once everyone started heading off to bed, the princess pulled Shiro to her bedroom again, giving him warm belly rubs and soft kisses until he drifted off to sleep.