#(and in so doing this helped mend the Unspeakable Awkward there.)

[regallibellbright]

[ID: A Retweet by Joseph Earp @Joseph_O_Earp, containing a screenshotted excerpt of the Australian Antarctic Division's Separation Guide. The excerpt is a bullet point reading, "What is your motivation for working with the Australian Antarctic Program? If you're looking to escape a difficult relationship or situation, Antarctica is not the answer." Joseph Earp's tweet reads, "Immediately sure that the phrase 'Antarctica is not the answer' will now live in my head for the rest of my days." End ID]

Aspencore

[musicallisto]

Hello love,

Congratulations for the 800 followers! You absolutely deserve this and so much more! I'm happy to see how your blog grows and that you're still providing all of us with wonderful content. You're one of the first blogs that I've started to follow here on Tumblr and I'm so lucky to have found your blog ♡

As for your celebration event, could I please request a 🍨 vanilla milkshake with a male Peaky Blinders Character?

I'm more on the curvy side (and insecure about it) and I'm ALWAYS wearing black (which I love, no matter what others say or even more if they object). As for my personality, I'm a highly complex, paradox and complicated individium. I'm unbelievable patient, timid, awkward, kind, forgiving, open-minded, compassionate, thruthful, gentle and calm and I've been told that I have a calming effect on others, that I can easily ground anyone and anything, no matter how troubled their mind is. I prefer vintage over modern things. I think rather deep which often leads me to overthinking everything, which in turn leads me to doubting (very much) myself. You would be surprised how timid and reserved I am, I'm sure you wouln't notice me in a room full of people if it wouldn't be for my different appearance (but I like it this way). I'm always well-meaning, yet often misunderstood (maybe because it's hard for me to articulate myself). I can be incredible lazy, clumsy and forgetful. I've always felt like I don't really belong anywhere, so I've started to distance myself from others a while ago. I'm a outsider, weird, a dork, not normal, a loner and I fucking love it, because I like to be different, I would hate to fit into just one box and to be like everyone else. And I like people who are not ashamed to be their 100% true self, no matter how different that is from the mainstream. I'm the most loyal person you'll ever find, once you earn my trust, I'll always be on/by your side, no matter what. That says a lot, because I'm hard to scare away. Sometimes I feel alienated from the people and things surrounding me and I'm sure that I annoy and bore them. I'm very nervous and insecure around others, which is why I try to avoid people and why I'm not talking all that much around them (though, I'm a really good listener). I'm easily overwhelmed by large crowds and much light/noise, that's why I don't like to go outside, I prefer to cozy up at home. I would never intentionally hurt a animal and I'm not eating any meat, which is very important to me. I believe that there isn't a ounce of cruelty inside me. I'm unassuming and understanding, I only believe what I've witnessed on my own and I have endless acceptance for almost everything. Due to my Insomnia, I'm a night owl. I have strong personal values, am very opinionated and I'm really in-touch with myself and even though I'm extremly insecure, I would never reduce or change myself and views/opinions for someone and I neither have a problem to challenge authority and advocating for my beliefs. I'm a perfectionist and sometimes I really hate it. And, as you can see, I'm unable to be brief. My favourite colours are dark green, black, gold and dark purple. My greatest passion is music, even if I can't sing or play an instrument.(I prefer rock/punk/pop/80s/90s) It's the most calming and therapeutic thing when it comes to my anxiety and depression and I could never live a day without it. You will never see me in the street without headphones in my ears and even when I'm at home there's music playing almost all the time. I could talk for hours about music and what it means to me. And otherwise I love to watch films and series (I like fantasy, horror, psychological thriller, science fiction and psychological drama and almost anything from the 70s, 80s and 90s). I love rainy days and to go outside while it's pouring big, fat drops. What I love the most is to drive around without a destination, while talking and listening to music. And I love to spend time with my cat, if I could, I would have endless animals who live peacefully and loved with me. I enjoy to have deep talks and to be challenged to think. I love to take late-night-strolls, while gazing into the sky and watching the stars/moon. I have a fascination for dark and macabre things.

I really hope that's not too much? But thank you anyway ♡

Have a good day!

thank you so much for your kind words, you have no idea how much it means to me to know that I was one of the first blogs you followed ;; here’s your vanilla milkshake - and it’s also my first time writing for peaky blinders, but I hope it’s alright; and I hope finn shelby will find the portrait I paint of him accurate enough...

Birmingham was a drab and disheartening place enough without the war adding to its joylessness; but somehow the streets are even worse to bear deserted than when they’re bustling and fetid. Especially for a ten year old boy who wants nothing but to play with someone, to talk to someone, to see someone.

With his brothers off fighting somewhere in France and his aunt too busy with her businesses (adult stuff that Finn has absolutey no interest in attempting to understand), the youngest Shelby has been fighting off an affliction worse than consumption and measles, because much more insidious for a boy his age; boredom

and he’s so sad, so irrevocably sad, with no one to bruise his knees with and throw mud at, that he just aimlessly wanders the empty streets whenever aunt Polly isn’t looking, to find a semblance of stimulation

(he used to enjoy the solitude, it gave him time to imagine delirious stories in fantastical worlds and read the most enthralling of novels, but not anymore. four years of reclusion is an awfully long time for a little boy.)

and it’s during one of his escapades that he first meets you

you’re a little girl his age, dressed in a pretty dress, wearing pretty booties and holding a pretty little woven basket, but your face is stuck on the most grouchy frown he’s ever seen on a little girl, and you don’t walk, you stomp down the wet pavement like a wrathful titan

And it’s probably the first time in four years that he’s been this close to making a new friend, so he walks up to you, despite how rusty his communication skills have become

“Girls don’t frown. It’s unbecoming.”

(Yes, pretty rusty indeed; but in his defense, he’s ten, he’s bored, he’s lonely, and he’s only ever heard Ada say it, and Ada is the most level-headed of his siblings, so anything she says must be true, right?)

“Shut up.”

(Well, if it was unbecoming of you to frown, it’s even more to rebuff someone so rudely. You don’t even spare a glance and continue walking; he has to hurry to catch up to you.)

“You can’t say that. It’s a bad word.”

“How do you know that?”

“My family says it all the time, but they told me I can’t say it.”

“Well, my family is not your family. And I hate my family!”

You’ve yelled the last words at the sky, so loud that the crows on the neighboring roofs have taken off in a startled flight.

“They want to wear this stupid dress to go to the stupid market to buy stupid meat. I don’t even want to eat meat, that’s cruel! And I don’t even want to wear a frilly dress! I want to wear black!”

And in saying so you tugged at the pink and white ribbons that encircled your waist.

And Finn couldn’t help being extremely intrigued at this little girl who said bad words and refused to eat meet and wanted to wear black. It was the most exciting thing to ever happen in all the duration of the war.

“You want to wear a black dress?”

“Yes, but my mama won’t let me. She says it’s too sad because of the war. But black isn’t sad! Black is beautiful!”

“Maybe I could find you a black dress. I’m sure my sister must have one. Where do you live?”

And, loyal to his promise, the following morning he had run to your doorstep and snuck into your house - a proper Shelby talent, to be able to go unnoticed or make a ruckus depending on the occasion - with an old, crinkled mourning dress of Ada’s, that had probably belonged to his mother and had been mended several times

And it was obviously five sizes too big for you and you looked more like a ghost from one of Finn’s horror novels, your arms floating in the sleeves and the hem of the skirt pooling at your feet, but your smile was the brightest light he’d ever seen in this whole damn town.

“Do you like it?”

(He didn’t really know why he sounds so nervous. Maybe it was having a friend, a real friend, and doing something personal for them... or maybe it had to do with how fast his heart beat, watching you in that gigantic, shapeless dress)

“I love it! Thank you so much, Finn!”

From then on started one of the most wonderful friendships Finn would ever have, and what would bring a ray of light to the grim existence of a little boy in the midst of a global war

Despite the ration cards, despite the loneliness, despite the worry that tugged at his stoic aunt’s eyes for her son and nephews across the Channel... he found an unspeakable solace in your friendship

And one day, without a trace, you were gone

He knocked on your door; gone. He asked all the neighbors what had happened to the family that lived there; gone. He wrote you letters and sent them to the confines of England; gone. He got scolded by Polly for marking numbers at random on Tommy’s state-of-the-art telephone; gone.

Suddenly he was back to the bleak existence he had battled with before meeting you, and the hollow inside his chest only grew wider as the days went on, because he had no explanation as to what had happened to you, and worried every single day

Thankfully, the war ended not long after, and his brothers came back home, all alive and unscathed - well, for the most part

Fast forward more or less ten years, and much has changed in Finn Shelby’s life and in old Birmingham, but the memory of you still stugs at his heartstrings

One evening, he’s tasked by Arthur to run some errands, send a few messages, scout a few places; the most dangerous thing his older brothers will ever let him do

His task leads him to a bar in the center of town, one that pours its joyous light and music into the street outside; he’s there to meet with a client, arrange a meeting; nothing he’s hasn’t done already

But the evening takes a turn for the unexpected when he recognizes the girl sat alone at a table, enjoying the musicians’ jazz with an air of pure bliss on her face

It’s been ten years, of course, but... it’s unmistakable. That face, that silhouette, and the black ensemble from head to toe... and he’s always had a knack for remembering faces, especially those that mark him deeply

Suddenly he’s frozen on the spot, and he has forgotten why he came to the bar in the first place, what his target looks like - all he knows is you, and how beautiful you look in the dim light of the bar, and the undisclosed and unknown feelings he had for you at the time come flooding back.

Except this time, he understands, and he fears them, because he doesn’t have time for any of this, and it’s way too dangerous for you and him

But he can’t just pass you by and not say a word?

He swallows, hard.

And walks up to you.

“Y/N?”

You open your eyes, and your face flashes with recognition, and a little bit of pain as well. Even if you fled without a word, and left him hanging all these years, he’s incapable of rancor

“Finn... wow, you’ve changed so much.”

“You haven’t.”

He gestures at your face, your clothes, how you savor the music like the finest drink in the world, and you laugh and blush, sending his heart into overdrive

“Where were you all this time?”

“I’m so sorry, Finn... my brother died in the war, and... my mom sent me to live with my grandparents in Scotland. We were all destroyed by grief... I needed to get away.”

“Without explanation? Not even a word?”

“I wanted to write to you, so bad, but... I couldn’t remember your address. I couldn’t remember anything about Birmingham at all...”

He nods, slowly, in understanding.

The war opens wounds that never heal, even after all the most beautiful friendships and love stories in the world.

“But I’m really glad I found you.”

His heart is pounding in his throat. Maybe it’s a sign of destiny that he found you here, tonight, alone, and ready to welcome him back. Maybe it’s a word from fate, that you can never truly be apart.

So he takes the seat in front of you, and you smile, that shy but bright smile of yours, and he forgets all about his mission, his client, and his brothers.

They’ll have to understand.

800 follower sleepover

[chaoswillfallrpg]

REGINA ROWLE is TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD and an UNSPEAKABLE in THE HALL OF PROPHECY at THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. She looks remarkably like LOGAN BROWNING and considers herself aligned with THE DEATH EATERS. She is currently OPEN. 

→ OVERVIEW:

Intelligent and curious, Regina Rowle needed to know everything about anything. Born to British Pure-Blood socialite DEMEAS ROWLE and Witch  ATIYA ROWLE Regina and her younger sister ROWENA were brought up in a loving household just outside the city of Cambridge. Their mother, an exceptional witch moved from the North West of Africa after her school years at Uagadou in order to attend one of the most prestigious universities out there, Cambridge university, it was here that she had met Demeas and they fell madly in love. The pair had a whirlwind romance and married quickly, much to the dismay of Demeas’ family, Atiya’s dreams of becoming a writer put on hold for another dream of hers, motherhood. Regina and Rowena were raised in a clash of cultures, neither parent wanting them to miss out on their European or African magical heritage. Their father would tell them stories of Hogwarts, Regina’s eyes lighting up whenever he did so, excited to get up to the same mischief that her father had. Rowena on the other hand delighted in the stories their mother told about her childhood in Africa. Despite the differences between the two sisters and the three years that separated them the sisters were inseparable, wherever Regina went Rowena would follow, not because Regina was bossy or Rowena weak willed, but more because they couldn't stand to be apart.

Being part of Pure-Blood wizarding society meant attending certain events and parties, Rowena found them rather boring and immediately wanted to leave whereas Regina enjoyed them for one reason and one reason only. Their cousins, THORFINN and CAMILLE ROWLE would always attend the same events, and although they were never introduced to one another due to a row their fathers had many years ago that only worsened with time Regina was very intrigued by her cousin Camille. The girl was a puzzle that Regina wanted to solve, she made no effort to hide her hatred for her brother and Regina’s ever present curiosity got the better of her. When the sisters were not attending parties their mother was teaching them magic, getting around the underaged magic law by using traditional African spells and methods instead of the European way of using a wand. Regina listened intently to her mother but got nowhere with the spells, she practiced in her room almost every night but quickly lost interest due to her lack of ability, hoping desperately that she would improve, secretly scared that she was a squib. Her sister thrived with her mother's guidance and there was no doubt that she had magic flowing through her veins, the family all waiting with bated breath for Regina to show some magical abilities, they finally got their wish when she picked up her mother's wand one day and accidentally turned the cat pink. 

Along with her Hogwarts letter, Regina received the news that her mother had been commissioned for a book and would be leaving for Africa the day after she boarded the train. Knowing that Rowena wanted so dearly to immerse herself in her African heritage her mother decided to bring her along, the pair living there until it was Rowena’s turn to leave for Hogwarts. Excited by the opportunity to immerse herself in to another life and to finally step out alone she took everything in her stride, made friends with the right girls, stayed away from the wrong boys, and most of all, introduced herself to her estranged cousin Camille who had already made a lasting impression on the cohort of Hogwarts despite only being in second year. She rode on the coattails of her cousin's reputation, asking Camille for help whenever she needed it. Camille was happy to do so as she wanted to leave the perfect legacy of the Rowle name behind when she left the school a year before Regina would. Camille pointed her in the direction of BRIDGETTE DE MONTMORENCY, EVORA TRAVERS and LUCINDA TALKALOT, a group of girls that held the same priorities as she did and Regina fitted in perfectly. The group would often be found pretending to study in the library whilst actually talking about anything else, quickly getting thrown out by the librarian they would laugh all the way to an unused classroom on the fifth floor that the girls had claimed as their own. When it came to actual work Regina was happy to find out that with a wand her magic worked excellently, she shone in Charms and Transfiguration and also had a special knack for Divination, a trait her mother said came from her. 

Three years into her school career her sister Rowena joined Hufflepuff and Regina got a shock when the young, naive sister that she remembered was not the girl to arrive at Hogwarts. She had changed, grown up and Regina no longer knew where she stood, she wanted terribly to be close to her again, but she also wanted to give Rowena the space that she needed to grow into her own person, the space that she herself that was given by having three years without her sister. In her final years of Hogwarts Regina and her friends grew close to WALDEN MCNAIR and WILLIAM GOYLE, a pair of Slytherin boys that brought out the more mischievous side to the group of girls. Becoming increasingly closer to Walden, the pair fell into a relationship, partly because it was what Regina thought she should do and partly to stop the expectant glances sent her way by her friends whenever she was close to him. They became exceptionally close but Regina felt the relationship was off, something was missing and never one to shy away from an awkward conversation she brought it up several months into their relationship much to Walden’s relief. They talked on the astronomy tower for hours on end, well past curfew and came to the conclusion that actually they much preferred the company of their own genders when it came to romance. Ending on good terms they became best friends and laugh about the event now. 

Leaving Hogwarts behind Regina felt free to explore her feelings fully and it could be said that she left a string of witches in her wake, always living in the moment she got as much enjoyment she could out of someone and happily moved on to the next when she was through. Working for the ministry as an Unspeakable in the hall of prophecies was a sure fire way to attract witches, the mystery that surrounded her job did her well when it came to her love life. ALEXANDRA ROSIER was a witch that fell prey to her charms, they met through her cousin Camille during one of her many visits to the magazine to gossip with her, she got introduced to Alexandra and the pair hit it off. Both on the same page the witches had an agreement of sorts, no strings attached, just fun. Working at the ministry has also brought out her childhood curiosity, except now she finds gossip about her colleagues most intriguing, she thrives in knowing about everyone's business, infact, Regina gossips so much about others that it is almost ironic that her job title is ‘unspeakable’. Her curiosity has gotten the best of her on a few occasions and has in fact made her most unliked by one RITA SKEETER who is severely annoyed over the fact that Regina can spread gossip much quicker than she can publish it.

Living with Walden in a large loft apartment in Camden town meant you could either find the pair in the bars and clubs below, drinking far too much and seeing where the night would take them or you would find them moping about the morning after strewn across their living room. The pair dont have a secret between them and it is well known amongst the two that they have a problem when it comes to their love lives, they would spend hours complaining about the unfairness of it all and would have to go on another night out to make themselves feel better. It's not that Regina didn't enjoy the single life, it was more that she was worried she would never find the person who would make her want to give it up. Her fears however dwindled slightly when after drinking far too much she tripped and fell over her far too high heels and broke her ankle, Walden, the ever perfect best friends apparated her to St Mungo’s where MARIANNE MACMILLIAN was the mediwitch who mended her leg. Regina found herself entranced by the delicate way the witch healed her, her softness overwhelming her. She found herself afterwards coming up with excuses to visit the hospital, she would pop in to visit a friend who was never there, or grab some fliers about dragon pox from the reception even though she had already had them. She did all this with the hopes of catching a glance of the witch that seemed to occupy her mind far too much lately. Not yet ready to give up on being single though Regina vowed to continue as she was and if she happened upon Marianne naturally then it was meant to be. 

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood, Vampire

Pronouns → She/Her

Identification → Cis Female 

Sexuality  → Homosexual 

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education →  Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Ravenclaw)

Family → Rowena Rowle (sister), Camille Rowle (cousin), Thorfinn Rowle (cousin)

Connections  → Bridgette De Montmorency (best friend), Evora Travers (best friend), Lucinda Talkalot (best friend), Walden McNair (best friend), William Goyle (close friend), Alexandra Rosier (romantic liaison), Marianne MacMillian (potential love interest), Evangeline Selwyn (friend/colleague),  Rita Skeeter (adversary)

Future Information → N/A

REGINA ROWLE IS A LEVEL 5 VAMPIRE.

[newwavestarchild]

So I’d like to preface this by saying that I haven’t read The Royal Romance book 3 yet so like while I’m aware other things must be going on during the time that this is set I don’t actually know what specifically.

To say Liam was surprised by the sudden invitation to Valtoria he had received that morning would be an understatement. After turning down his proposal at the Statue of Liberty Ariella had been rather distant. Part of the strain on their relationship was his fault as well, and not just because of his duties as king. Being around Ariella was unspeakably hard, and Liam was sure that Ariella was aware of that fact and was keeping her distance in an attempt to let him mend his broken heart in peace. He had to believe that. The only other reason he could come up with was that he had well and truly ruined things by proposing and he didn’t think he could handle his life without Ariella in it at all. So he waited, tried to move on and heal, and now, finally, Ariella had reached out. From the moment Bastien had brought him the envelope Liam had been overwhelmed by the anxiety of what this could mean. Ariella wanted to see him as soon as possible. He couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste, it might be his last chance ever to see her on good terms. So he cleared his schedule as best he could and sent out a response saying he would arrive in the early evening.

When he finally arrived at Valtoria and was led to Ariella he was surprised to find that she was the only other person in the room since Lady Hana had moved in not long ago. Ariella smiled weakly at him as he entered. He wasn’t sure if the smile was because a part of her was genuinely happy to see him or if it was just out of pity. As though Ariella could read his mind she told him that she thought it’d be best if they were to have this conversation alone. That way hopefully it wouldn’t get derailed. Liam felt as though an angry swarm of bees had taken up residence in his stomach as he took his seat across from Ariella in what appeared to have been converted into a sitting room.

“These chairs are lovely. Did you pick them out?” Liam asked, trying desperately to force the awkwardness of the situation away with small talk.

“Hana did actually. It took us quite a while to find any that we found suitable. She insisted we find some that were both stylish and comfortable, that way when Drake visits he won’t be able to complain about them.” Ariella said, a fond smile appearing on her face at the mention of Lady Hana.

“I’m certain he’ll enjoy these quite well. Drake has always been a fan of chairs you seem to sink into.” Liam replied.

“So I’ve noticed. He almost got you a recliner as a gift when you were engaged to Madeleine.” Ariella said with a chuckle.

“That does sound like something he would do.” Liam replies with a chuckle of his own.

It was nice talking to Ariella like that. He’d almost forgotten how at ease he felt around her, how normal. Unfortunately it seemed as though his luck had run out as Ariella cleared her throat before speaking the words he’d been dreading all day, “So, about why I invited you here-“

 Normally Liam wouldn’t interrupt, he knew it was terribly rude, but his nerves got the better of him and so he blurted out, “La - Duchess Ariella, I am terribly sorry for any discomfort my actions have caused you. Had I known that you were in love with Lady Hana I assure you I never would have proposed. I would never want to stand in the way of your happiness like that. The two of you are among my closest friends and I treasure you both dearly, but if you would prefer to keep our interactions to a minimum from now on I understand. I only hope that someday we can attempt to rebuild our friendship.”

 “Liam what are you talking about?” Ariella asked, her brows scrunched together in a way that Liam couldn’t help but find adorable.

 “Haven’t you invited me here to ask me to keep my distance? I know you haven’t exactly been keen to see me lately so I just thought...” Liam replied, looking down to where he was twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

 “Oh Liam, no. I haven’t called you here to end our friendship, and I sincerely apologize if my keeping my distance these past few weeks has made you think that’s something I wanted. The truth is I’ve been...well I’ve been trying to think of how to go about this whole conversation. I thought I finally had it, but now that you’re actually here in front of me I don’t think I did, or that I ever will.” Ariella replied looking up to the ceiling and taking a deep breath.

 “If not to break off our friendship then why did you invite me here?” Liam asked.

 “I called you here to thank you.” Ariella replied.

 “Thank me?” Liam asked.

 “Yes. I realized after the events of homecoming that I never really did get a chance to thank you properly.” Ariella said.

 “Ariella, you don’t have to thank me for making you a duchess. My doing so was what was best for Cordonia. You belong here Ariella, you make everyone around you better. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Court as lively as it’s been since your arrival.” Liam said.

 “I wasn’t talking about making me a duchess, though I am of course grateful for that too. I just meant... Liam do you even realize how much you’ve changed my life? Before we met I spent most of my time in this quiet sort of awareness that there was something else I could be doing, something else I should be doing. Then you showed up and gave me this glimpse of wholeness that I’ve only ever experienced a few times before. Usually in flashes when visiting my friends back home. I won’t lie and say I knew right away that this was what I wanted to do with my life the moment we met, but when Maxwell found me the next day I knew whatever change was about to come would be for the better and I was right. Liam if you hadn’t looked twice at me that night none of this would ever have happened. I would never have seen Cordonia, I never would’ve met Hana, I certainly would never have become a duchess. Liam you’ve done so much for me and I wish so much that I could give you back even half as much. You deserve all of the love that the world has to give Liam, and believe me when I say I wish I could be the one to give it to you.” Ariella said, tears brimming in her eyes by the end.

 “Oh Ariella, I never meant for you to think I did those things for you because I wanted something in return. Did I want you to love me back? Of course, but I could never hold it against you that you don’t.” Liam said, walking over to kneel before Ariella and taking her hands in his own.

 “Logically I know that, but god Liam I felt like a monster turning you down. The sweetest man I’ve ever met proposed to me and I said no. I almost didn’t, you know. I looked at you and thought to myself how could I hurt you like this? But then I realized saying yes would’ve hurt you more. You would always be able to tell that something was off, that my eyes wouldn’t reflect the same look of love back to you. And on top of that saying yes to you would’ve destroyed Hana too. I couldn’t do that to either of you. It’s funny in a way. Loving you took time, but knowing that I had to break your heart hardly took any at all.” Ariella said, tears now falling freely.

 “What do you mean loving me took time?” Liam asked.

 “I mean I don’t think love at first sight is really a thing. I knew I was drawn to you from the night we met, but I didn’t really love you until I got to know you better throughout the social season. Love is something that takes time, you have to know someone before you can know how to love them.” Ariella replied.

 “I suppose that’s fair. I do hope I didn’t take too long to love. I know we didn’t get to see each other very often due to my responsibilities.” Liam said.

 “Not at all. You might not have been the fastest, but it was certainly easy once we were finally able to find moments to speak.” Ariella said with a grin.

 “Oh? Then who was the fastest? If you don’t mind my asking.” Liam questioned with a grin of his own.

 “That would be none other than Maxwell Beaumont himself. It didn’t take me long at all to realize that he was the sort of man I would jump off a cliff with. Honestly I’m sort of convinced he’s my soulmate, platonically of course. I don’t think I’ve ever had as much in common with anyone as I do with him. After Maxwell came Hana. The moment we met it was like lightning struck me and the need to make her happy and keep her safe was seared into my very being. It wouldn’t develop into love right away, but god Liam, if Maxwell is my platonic soulmate than Hana is my romantic one no question. It’s funny too because it’s nothing like I thought it’d be. I thought someday I’d meet this person who would love me and understand me completely without having to try, and while I know Hana loves me I also know there is a lot about me that she doesn’t understand. That’s one of the things that makes her so wonderful to me though, nobody else I have met in my life has ever wanted to know everything about me as much as she does. She sees all these things in me that she doesn’t understand and instead of loving me in spite of them she pursues them relentlessly and it’s so nice. It’s so good to feel that wanted; to know that someone who already knows so much and is so wonderful looks at me and considers me worth learning about. After Hana came you. Every time we spoke you continued to be the same kind, sweet, and caring man you seemed to be when we met. How could I not love someone who would treat me as their equal when by all means they had no reason to? You amazed me at every turn and I will be eternally grateful for the fact I have been fortunate enough to get to know you. Last of all came Drake. Really it wasn’t until the night with Tariq that I began to see Drake as he really was. When he came in and he stopped Tariq I realized two things: one Drake really did care about me and two Drake was a genuinely good man. There are plenty of men out there who would’ve realized what was going on and done nothing, but Drake stepped up and did whatever he had to to keep me safe. A point he further emphasized at homecoming when he took that bullet for me. At first I thought Drake was an asshole, and I still do, but now I know there’s more to him than that. As jaded as he is about the world Drake still opens himself up to it, in his own way. He loves fiercely and when he’s not busy moping he’s actually quite fun to be around. Drake Walker is a good man, and I love him with all of my heart for how good of a friend he has been to me even if I did antagonize him as much as he did me in the beginning.”  Ariella replied, a wistful smile on her face.

 “That’s beautiful Ariella, and since I didn’t say it before you’re welcome for all of the changes I’ve inadvertently brought into your life. However, if we’re thanking each other for good changes then I believe I owe you a few thank yous of my own.” Liam said.

 “You’re welcome too. Looks like we’re stuck with each other since we keep making each other’s lives better.” Ariella said with a laugh.

 “I suppose you’re right.” Liam said with a laugh of his own.

[team-shithead]

I know you said Alex and John get married eventually but are we ever going to see their wedding?

I mean, in theory, in nine hundred years, when I finally get to that part in the story.

But, with the knowledge that this shit takes me forever and we could all be dead tomorrow, here’s some stuff about it, most of which I think I may have mentioned in other posts? 

*

Alex rejects John’s first proposal. Which, frankly, is well deserved. John puts off proposing or even discussing marriage with Alex for years once Eliza comes into the picture. This is mostly because he knows that Eliza has always imagined her future wedding and has always thought about getting married and has always wanted to get married, whereas John didn’t think about the future at all until he met Alex. He thinks that Eliza deserves to marry Alex, if she wants, but she insists that John should be the one to do it. Alex and Eliza love each other deeply and all three of them live together (and, at this point, have children together), but John is still more-or-less Alex’s primary partner. (Plus, on their first official date, one of the first things Alex says to her is, “I’m going to marry John one day.”) So they spend years arguing about it and it takes on the tone of arguing over who has to marry Alex instead of who gets to marry Alex.

Eliza eventually accidentally recruits four year old Philip to her side when he overhears an exchange between her and Angelica (”How’s your husband?” “Good. How are yours?”) and she explains that she’s not married to Daddy because Papa is going to marry Daddy. Which leads to Philip asking John why he and Alex aren’t married and John trying to explain the intricacies of legal marriage and that it has nothing to do with how much he loves Alex, etc. Eliza eventually points out that if Alex and John get married, they’ll have some sort of legal connection to each other’s biological children, and John finally caves.

He finally mentions to Alex, “Hey, so, do you wanna get married?” and Alex drives the entire room into dead silence when he says, “No.”

It’s only for a few seconds, but they’re the longest, more awkward seconds of everyone’s lives. The kids are there, of course, but also the Washingtons and Angelica and Church and their baby. John is fucking floored, just totally mute with shock. So is everyone else. But Alex doesn’t let the silence stay for long before he goes off on John and Eliza both for treating this like a game for all these years, for not even asking him for his input, for acting like marrying him is some terrible burden, for turning the idea of their marriage into a joke. 

Eliza and John are both chastened by this. Alex, dramatic as ever, storms out of the dining room to brood in his office, and after some self-flagellating, John follows him and apologizes and they talk a little bit about why John’s avoided the marriage issue for so long and how Eliza fits into everything and John’s guilt, etc. And they’re okay, after (Eliza apologizes, too), but they don’t talk about marriage again for a little while.

*

The second time John proposes, he puts a lot of fucking thought into it. He doesn’t tell anyone at first, except Philip, who’s sworn to secrecy, and only then because Philip is out sick from school on the day John has to go to the jeweler to check out the ring he commissioned. Eliza eventually figures it out (Philip is not good at keeping secrets), which is fine because John has to recruit everyone they know anyway. There’s a big parapsych conference that’s coming to town, and their whole extended family is using it as an excuse to visit. He sets up a big breakfast the day before the conference starts–Eliza and the kids and the other two Schuylers and their spouses and kids and Laf and Adrienne and Georges and Mattie and Jo and Frances and the Washingtons and Herc and even Burr and Theodosia and Theo Jr. 

This time he plans out a whole speech in the days leading up, but forgets most of it the moment he stands up and clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. The actual speech he gives is pretty good, though, and Alex cries a lot and does, of course, say yes this time.

*

Eliza plans most of the wedding, because she needs something to funnel her energy into in order to keep from being too bummed out. Because she is a little bummed out–she loves John and she has always known that he and Alex were going to get married, but now that it’s finally happening, she has to put away the dream that she had of her own wedding. It’s never going to happen and it hurts a little, knowing that, despite all these years of preparation. She’s very happy with her life–she loves her job, she loves Alex, she loves John, she loves their children–but it’s not the life she imagined for herself and this is the last part of that dream that she’s finally putting to bed.

But she doesn’t want to be mopey and unhappy and she doesn’t want John to feel guilty, so she decides the best thing she can do is be too busy to mope and throws herself into planning. She also knows that John and Alex would be happy with hiring a wedding planner and calling it a day, but that her doing it will make it more personal since she knows them better than anyone. Also, she’s a huge fucking control freak and the idea of anyone else planning this thing for her family makes her pretty anxious. Angelica lectures her a lot about emotional labor and the weird sort of masochism inherent in planning your boyfriend’s wedding to someone else. Eliza doesn’t know how to make her believe that this honestly makes her feel better–Angelica has never fully understood how her relationships with Alex and John work, both individually and as a unit, and while she’s accepted it at this point, occasionally she has to remind Eliza that she just Doesn’t Get It.

She ends up doing a lot of work with Herc, whom the boys recruit to officiate the ceremony. She’s always liked him a lot and she likes him even more now–he’s very aware of her complex feelings and supports her through all of it, even though Alex and John are his friends. He also knows everyone and is able to help her haggle down to very inexpensive prices for most of the things they need. They’re not wanting for money at this point, but there’s nothing wrong with being thrifty.

The one thing she does politely refuse to do, however, is participate in the ceremony. It feels wrong to her, awkward and uncomfortable, and even though Alex and John come to her both together and on their own to try and change her mind, she’s firm in her refusal. She’s happy to plan the thing, to herd the kids during the ceremony, and to watch from the audience.

*

John, who stayed stoic through his proposal and mostly finds the entire planning process tedious (they’ve been functionally married since he was twenty-three, this all seems absurd), makes it two sentences into his vows and then starts sobbing and doesn’t stop until after the ceremony.

*

John and his dad are on okay terms by the time of the wedding–Ella’s about two at this point and right after she’s born, Henry makes some overtures of mending fences–but some of the things that John mentions during the ceremony strike a chord with him. He doesn’t bring it up during the reception, but he sends John a very awkward email a few days later. John sends him an equally awkward email back. It’s not a replacement for the family therapy they probably should have had when John was thirteen, if not when he was seven, but it’s a start.

*

They don’t go on anything resembling a honeymoon, really. They’ve got two kids and Eliza discovered she was pregnant a month or so before the wedding, plus they both have about three different jobs each, but they do spend a long weekend alone at a hotel. It’s both very nice and very weird. They haven’t been alone with absolutely nothing to do in literal years. They spend just as much time reading silently and catching up on Netflix as they do having sex (which is to say, they do A LOT of both).

*

The first time Alex calls John his husband casually and out loud, he freezes and almost starts to cry, which is mortifying, but mostly he’s distracted by being so unspeakably happy that it almost makes him dizzy. He didn’t think that titles and legal documents were such a big deal–even when he got upset after John’s first proposal, it was more a matter of feeling disregarded and disrespected than any longing for a marriage certificate–but it does mean something. Symbolically and as a matter of professional optics, but more than that, the knowledge that John stood up in front of all of those people and promised to love him forever is still overwhelming. All that they are to each other and all that they’ve been to each other isn’t easily summarized or explained, but having this connection feels like an important symbol, an important piece of the puzzle. In this simple, ancient way, he and John officially belong to each other–something he never dreamed of having as a child and something that he can never imagine being without going forward.

[the-wig-is-a-metaphor]

Stab Right Through

by Yuudan

Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Time Travel

Angst

Harry's Life Sucks

Time Travel Fix-It

Thinly Veiled Antagonism

Set In Harry's Sixth Year

Unspeakables

Summary:

Getting lost in old memories is a dangerous thing for anyone, but in Harry’s case the whole situation is slightly more literal, and - as it always tends to be - much, much worse.

Chapter 1: Arrival

“Merlin’s beard, Tom!” yelped memory-Slughorn. “Seven! Isn’t it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case . . . bad enough to divide the soul . . . but to rip it into seven pieces . . .”

Slughorn looked at the young Riddle with a disturbed expression, perhaps starting to realize his true nature for the first time. Harry tried to meet Dumbledore's eyes, wondering what the old man thought of this, but the Headmaster appeared entirely focused on the memory playing out in front of them, seemingly refraining from blinking lest he missed something of importance.

If he was getting this right, didn't it mean Voldemort had split his soul seven times? Even contemplating it made him sick to his stomach . . .

And even leaving aside the unnatural act of ripping one's soul apart multiple times, this probably meant there were seven pieces of Voldemort's soul to somehow get rid of before he could even contemplate killing the man – or whatever he had become.

“This is all hypothetical, what we’re discussing, isn’t it? All academic,” Slughorn was saying, though Harry could tell he was regretting the conversation very much. After reassuring the Potions Professor, memory-Riddle left, but not before Harry had glimpsed his face – it looked feral.

“Thank you, Harry,” said Dumbledore quietly. “Let us go back now . . . ”

Harry was all for the idea, really – they had a lot to discuss after this particular revelation, and Dumbledore must have some more information to add – but the universe didn't seem to agree. Instead of soaring weightlessly, or being automatically ejected like every other time, the opposite seemed to be happening – it felt like he was being dragged down by force, like someone had grabbed his legs and was refusing to let go. He looked down at once, and saw Slughorn's carpet, on which he'd been standing, had started to swirl and collapse around his feet, forming a vortex he was already knee-deep in.

"Profesor!" he shouted at the disappearing figure, "Professor –"

Dumbledore noticed his plight, and alarmedly tried to grab a hold of his outstretched arm, even while being in the process of being expelled by the memory.

"Harry, don't let go of my hand!" the Professor said urgently, gripping his own sweaty hand with his good arm, "Focus on your mind, and try to – "

But he never found out what he had to try, because Dumbledore was violently blown away like a leaf in the wind, and disappeared in the distance, presumably out of the pensieve.

Meanwhile, the scene around him – Slughorn alone in his office, eating candied pineapples with a perturbed expression – dissolved like the rain had washed it away, replaced by a thick white mist that didn't let Harry see anything further than his nose.

He tried yelling for help, and tried focusing on his mind – whatever that meant – but with every pasing moment he was getting dragged deeper. Before he knew it, he was submerged to his waist, and thought he glimpsed an endless expanse of sand through the mist . . .

He heard Dumbledore yell "Harry!" from somewhere far, far away before the world turned black and he had the dinstinct feeling of falling down from a great height.

And then he did fall, with the sickening crack of broken bones, on what felt like metal spikes.

He made a squeaky sound like a dying seal, but in his defense his back hurt really badly and he couldn't feel his left arm.

"Why, hello there," a calm, if slightly confused voice intoned from beside him, "And who might you be?"

Harry jumped, or at least tried. Big mistake. He almost screamed with the pain.

But that voice . . . he cautiously turned his head to the side and realized a number of things simultaneously. For one, it wasn't spikes he'd fallen on, but Dumbledore's desk, which was more or less the same thing given the many metallic and pointy instruments that populated his worktable. Secondly, that was indeed Dumbledore who was staring at him perplexedly, but not any Dumbledore. Oh no. It was an auburn-haired Dumbledore, with marginally less lines on his face and an even bolder – if possible – taste in fashion. His arms were also both perfectly fine. In fact, he resembled very much the one he'd seen in the other memories he'd been shown. The one from fifty years ago.

Harry opened his mouth, to answer the question or to splutter he didn't know.

What came out was a feeble, "Merlin's saggy ballsack," before he passed right out.

"Are you awake, lad?" a brisk female voice asked as soon as Harry opened his eyes. He didn't need to ask where he was, the white ceiling all too familiar after years of waking up to it. He was in the infirmary. That was nice. It meant it had all been a bizarre dream – Voldemort hadn't created seven horcruxes after all and he hadn't been sucked into a memory vortex-thing, and –

And that wasn't Madame Pomphrey. And Dumbledore, who was standing next to his bed, was still red-headed and perplexed.

Blast.

"Am I?" he answered wryly, "No, I don't think I am,"

The unknown nurse – blonde, with an unfortunate nose – started to fuss around his head with her wand, muttering to herself.

"I fixed his back, but his arm needs rest and a bone-mending potion every day for two weeks," she said, presumably talking to Dumbledore, "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with his head,"

"Nothing? Are you sure?" Harry croaked, "Maybe you should check again,"

The nurse sent an unimpressed look his way, but repeated her spells and confirmed, "Your head is perfectly fine,"

Dumbledore nodded and said, "Thank you, Madame Spleen. I'd like to exchange a few words with our guest, if it's all the same to you?"

Madame Spleen nodded and left them alone in awkward silence, at least for Harry. Dumbledore seemed impervious to such pesky things as awkwardness, even as a slightly younger old man.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said hopefully, "I don't suppose you know who I am?"

It was unlikely by a long shot, but who knew? Maybe the headmaster had simply dyed his hair and the situation had nothing to do with him, for once.

. . . Yeah, right.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I've ever seen you before. And I make a point of knowing the names and faces of everyone in the castle," the headmaster said pointedly, "I also make a point of checking the anti-apparition wards every month . . . would you mind explaining who you are and how you got in my office?"

"I'm Harry, and . . . I'm not sure what happened, Professor," he said honestly, trying to sit up without jostling his arm, "I was in your office, watching a memory in the pensieve, and then bam – I was sucked into this vortex thing and fell on your desk,"

Dumbledore blinked at him a few times and started to say, "In . . . my office? With me?" but then something seemed to occur to him and he asked cautiously, "If I may ask, what memory were you watching?"

"My potions professor's memory from 1943," he replied honestly. No point in lying – maybe he was still dreaming, but if he wasn't Dumbledore was sure to be the only person who could help him out of this pickle.

The professor stilled, and stared at him at length with those eerily penetreting eyes of his. Finally, as if accepting that he was telling the truth, he said quietly, "Today . . . is 1 September 1942,"

Harry's eyes widened and he repressed the knee-jerk reaction of yelling 'Lies!' and shutting his ears. But it did seem extremely unlikely . . .

Dumbledore, seemingly reading his mind, twirled his wand murmuring "Tempus," and sure enough, the numbers wobbling two-dimensionally in the air confirmed what the professor had said.

Minutes and minutes of silent, dumb-struck denial ticked by, until Dumbledore cleared his throat and assumed a very grave air.

"I can't help but notice that you seem to know me personally, Harry, and if you were watching a memory in my office, a memory that has yet to happen . . . I'd have to deduce that you travelled here from the future, however unlikely that sounds,"

Despite Madame Spleen's reassurances, Harry's head felt like someone had used it as a gong and it was still ringing.

"But sir . . . ! How's that even possible? I wasn't doing anything related to time at all – I was watching a memory, taken from Professor Slughorn's head! If anything I should have ended up in his head!"

Dumbledore, still looking remarkably calm, replied, "Magic cannot be taken lightly, Harry, especially when interacting with the mind. It is entirely possible that your Professor's memories acted as a gateway between the present and the past – or for us, the future and the present,"

Trust Dumbledore to start theorizing in three seconds flat. "A gateway?" he repeated somewhat dazedly, "But you were with me sir! Why was it only me who ended up here?"

"Such things cannot be divined without proper study, my boy. Time, mind and magic are the most enigmatic and incomprehensible things in existence, and you seem to have run afoul of all three at the same time,"

After that they fell into helpless silence, Harry trying to come to terms with it all, and Dumbledore looking like he was terribly curious about something but at the same time dreading to hear about it.

"Aren't you going to ask why we were watching Slughorn's memory of 1942 together, sir?"

Dumbledore looked guilty for a moment, then said firmly, "Such matters are best handled by the people most qualified to – I'll contact the Department of Mysteries at once, Harry, so you must refrain from revealing anything until then,"

"The Department – ? But . . . I need help," he said with a truly pathetic amount of desperation, "I need your help. I'm sure – if you just hear me out for a moment, I'm sure –"

The professor raised a hand to stop him, and said sadly, "I'm sorry, Harry,"

Harry tried not to feel crestfallen, and failed. Even knowing that this Dumbledore didn't know him, the cold rejection stung.

Dumbledore stepped away from Harry's bed and headed for the door, "Wait here, I'll firecall Unspeakable Croaker, he should be here shortly," he said, then he paused and turned around, looking more vulnerable than Harry had ever seen him, "You mustn't tell me anything, Harry. I proved it, time and again – I cannot be trusted with this kind of power,"

Then he disappeared in the corridor, and Harry gave a half-hysterical snort.

"And you think I can?!"

Waiting with nothing to do, Harry tried napping a bit, hoping to Merlin and Morgana and every deity he knew that he'd wake up and find out he'd dreamed the whole thing. And yet, when he woke from his feather-light fitful sleep, his broken arm was there to remind him that no, everything was real. He was in the past. In a past where he hadn't been born yet – hell, his parents hadn't been born yet – where nobody knew him. Where Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen and Dumbledore wasn't yet old and all-knowing.

After a while he tried to get up, but doing that without moving his back was sort of impossible, so he gave up. Dumbledore had said an Unspeakable would be coming. Surely, he would know how to send him back to his time – he did remember from last year's escapade to the Ministry, that the Department of Mysteries had a Time room, full of Time-turners and whatnot...

Just then, the door opened and a tall man with glasses and an odd moustache stepped in, his almost black eyes immediately finding Harry and staring unblikingly at him. Dumbledore lead the wizard to Harry's bed and said, "Harry, this is Unspeakable Croaker, he studies time, as it happens, and would be very interested to know the circumstance of your accident,"

Croaker opened a briefcase and handed him a folder, saying, "A pleasure, Harry. You understand this sort of thing doesn't happen every day, but enough that there is a procedure to follow – firstly, you must fill in that form – you may leave out things if you wish, but I must warn you that the paper is spelled to prevent untruths from being written upon it, so please refrain from lying,"

Harry didn't bother looking at the form and demanded, "You'll return me to my time, right? You have a Time room at the Department, so you must know how, right?"

Dumbledore stilled and Croaker looked at him sharply, his eyes lingering on his lightning bolt scar, and he said softly, "Now how would you know that, Harry?"

But he didn't want an answer, Harry could tell. He would have thought an Unspeakable, and one who worked with time at that, would be especially interested to know everything he could grill out of Harry, but apparently Dumbledore's friends were as wise as him.

"No, I'm afraid we haven't the means necessary to do that just yet," Croaker answered to his earlier question, "But your accident may help us get closer sooner,"

Harry lowered his eyes to the form even as a weight plunged into his stomach – he'd never go back to his time, never see Hermione and Ron again. Or Ginny...

Or well, wizards lived long lives, so he'd probably live to see them be born and grow up, but they'd never be friends like they were now – had been – never share all those adventures...

His sight became blurry and he was mortified to discover that he was, in fact, crying.

Croaker and Dumbledore tactfully refrained from commenting, and he was able to calm down and pretend nothing was wrong without incident.

He filled out the form in a matter of minutes, detailing what had happened to the best of his capabilities, hoping against hope that it would help the Unspeakables send him back. He wrote only his first name, not quite trusting the document with his full, famous name. Then he described the vortex of sand and the swirling white mists, and the sensation of falling down that had resulted in a literal fall on Dumbledore's desk. The form asked for a description of his background, which he refused to share as his background was not only distinctive and rather unique, but also something he preferred to keep to himself. The rest was normal enough – blood status, would-be date in his timeline, school he'd been attending and so on.

When he was done, Croaker skimmed it interestedly and asked clarification on some points, ("what color was the sand?", "How far did they extend?", "Was there a sun?" and so on) then stuffed the form in his briefcase and pulled out a roll of parchment marked by an official-looking seal.

"Don't worry about the form – it will appear blank to anyone outside the Department," the Unspeakable tried to reassure him, "Now this, this is a contract of sorts, also part of the procedure for time travellers. It will stop you from spilling the beans on things like politics, wars, natural disasters, economy and so on,"

After his drop of blood had been spilled where indicated, Croaker looked him in the eye and said, "The contract is not perfect, as you may have guessed, but then nothing human-made is, is it? I would still advise you not to divulge too much, as our department will be keeping an eye on you,"

Harry nodded distractedly. This seemed all pretty inconsequential before the looming knowledge that he would not be getting back to his time, would not get to kiss Ginny or avenge his godfather, or even get to see Ron and Hermione get married like everyone knew they would. Would they miss him? Would someone else fullfill the prophecy in his place?

Irritatingly, a picture of the Dursleys celebrating his disappearance popped in his head.

"The contract will keep you from revealing anything of great impact, but you'll be able to talk about innocuous tidbits normally – which I'd be careful with, by the way," Croaker stressed, "We will try to keep an eye on you, of course, but you have more than that to worry about. I don't know if it's the universe, the forces of time or magic itself, but something always happens to people who are more loose-lipped than they should. Many time-travellers suffered a horrifying fate for their carelessness,"

"Horrifying? Like what?" Harry asked, fascinated and nauseaous all at once.

Croaker leaned forward, an intense look in his eyes, "A woman who told everyone who asked about the future under the guise of being a seer, one day became inexplicably and incurably insane. They had to strap her to a bed until the end of her days. Another example is the man who published everything he knew on the newspapers looking for fame and money, and ended up paranoid and unable to get out of his house. he killed himself soon after that,"

Satisfied that Harry was suitably disturbed, Croaker cocluded, "It might just have been that living in a time not meant for them messed them up, but . . . you'd do well to be careful, anyway,"

At Harry's coscentious nod, Croaker got up and extracted a contraption that Harry recognized after a few seconds as a camera. Bloody hell, did it look old. The unspeakable muttered some spells on it, swirling his wand in small circles, and said, "Now if you would, I'd need some photographs,"

After that, throroughly documenting his appearance from all angles in what Harry suspected would become moving pictures of his puzzled blinking, Croaker left.

Dumbledore, perhaps interpreting Harry's pale face, reassured him, "He's mentioned only the blatant cases. It's actually a lot more common than you would think, for someone to be misplaced sometime else, and the great majority of them manage to live a normal life just fine. No need to worry, Harry, I'm sure you will be alright,"

"I hope so," he muttered, but he was still spooked and jittery.

After a few minutes in which Harry contemplated the complete joke that was his life and Dumbledore looked out of the window, Madame Spleen made another appearance, this time with a tray of about ten different-sized, different-coloured potions hovering about her elbow.

Harry made a face, but the routine of being in the infirmary and being fed foul-tasting potions was actually calming in its extreme familiarity – he'd been at it since first year, after all, and this almost seemed just one more of those adventures that had seemed insurmountable when he was living them but had ended up mere memories over time.

Except this time there was no clear enemy to defeat or person to save, no clear course of action that lead him to his objective, that is going back home – which had been deemed impossible by both Albus Dumbledore and the head Unspeakable . . .

But there had to be a way, and goddammit, he was going to find it if it took him decades to do it. So what if those old geezers thought it was impossible? He was Harry Potter, his very existence and survival had hinged on impossibilities since he'd been one year old.

They thought travelling back to his time was impossible, but then he bet they would say the same about surviving the killing curse.

[brookeap3]

DOQ prompt: Regina and Robin discuss sexual fantasies and one of them mentions threesomes.

To Be Loved { Part Two }

Day 4 of @doqweek. Things get a little wild in the missing year with Mal ;)

{ ffn } { ao3 }

Naked skin.

Soft and tempting. Like rose petals beneath his fingertips as Robin slowly strokes his hand up and down Regina’s spine, across her bicep. Her skin is still warm and flushed from their latest tumble in her bedchamber. It would seem it’s one of the rare times that she allows him to hold her after they’ve brought each other to the heights of pleasure.

Whatever it is that they have between them, this physical pull, emotional tether, uncharted chemistry, whatever label one would call it, feels stronger in these quiet moments. More intimate. While it’s not something that Robin could have ever anticipated feeling when he and the queen had met, he can’t say that he isn’t intrigued by it.

Where Robin would love nothing more than to delve into the depths of her soul, to learn every nook and cranny of what this fascinating woman is made of, Regina isn’t ready for that yet. Barely gives him anything more than the physical. And he can’t really blame her for it. What little he has learned of what she’s gone through, from Regina herself, as well as the princess, is that she’s been forced to endure pain and suffering for most of her life.

The loss of her son has prevented her from opening herself up to anymore pain.

So he will give her whatever he can, whatever she needs from him. If that means this stays merely sex, a distraction, Robin can accept that. Will bide his time and support her until she’s ready to give him the pieces of her heart that he craves. For she’s stolen his own out from under him.

Her leg slides over his, her thigh settling between each of his own as she tucks her chilled toes beneath his calf. It makes Robin chuckle and wrap his arm more securely around her shoulders as her head rests on his chest, just above where his heart rate is slowly returning to something resembling a normal rhythm.

“Tell me one of your fantasies.”

He can feel her frown, the wrinkle of her brow against his chest as she questions, “A fantasy?”

“Yes,” Robin answers easily, letting his eyes fall shut as he picks up the lazy patterns he’d been drawing over her skin again. “Something you’ve always wanted to try in bed.” His free hand shifts, cups her breast in his palm as he thumbs her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, enjoying the quiet groan the action elicits from Regina. “Surely the queen must have some wild, sexual fantasy in the back of her mind.”

For all her stunning beauty, and the men he knows would have easily fallen to her feet, from the time they’ve spent together, Robin doesn’t think Regina has all that much sexual experience.

But he wants to bring her pleasure, as much as he’s able. To expel that haunted, contemplative expression he notes on her face all too often. He wants to learn her deepest secrets, whatever she might want that he can give her Robin will. This turn of conversation seems an able method to that end.

For a moment, he doesn’t think she’s going to answer and he waits with baited breath before she whispers, “Well, I’ve always been curious…” her voice trails off, a hint of embarrassment evident in her tone as Robin urges her softly, Curious about? before she finishes her sentence with, “curious what it might be like with another woman.”

That takes him a bit by surprise. It’s not an answer he’d been expecting. Though it’s nothing he’s at all uncomfortable with. “You mean having sex with another woman?”

But Regina shakes her head quickly, correcting him, “No. I’ve been with women before. Well… one woman. Someone who I used to be quite close with,” as she buries her face into the crook of his neck, not quite able to hide the faint blush that rises to her cheeks.  

That intrigues him, something about the way she says it, open and vulnerable, two things he rarely sees from her. Pondering it for a moment, images of her over the last several weeks flicker through his mind’s eye before clarity washes over him.

Maleficent.

She has to be the woman to which Regina is referring. He’s seen the lingering glances between the mysterious queen who has captivated his attention from the moment he offered her his hand in the woods and the quiet, brooding dragon. There’s not much he doesn’t notice when it comes to Regina, after all. And though he’d sensed their bond, even with the awkwardness that occasionally hangs in the air around them, he’d never suspected it to be more than a rocky friendship.

Though thinking back now on the encounters he’s witnessed, Robin can see how there was some sexual tension between the two women. Subtle undertones that are easier to notice when given all the information. Not that he really has that either. His voice is casual as he questions quietly, “Maleficent?”

Regina’s head lifts at that, propping herself up on an elbow to stare at him curiously. “Yes,” she answers, confusion drawing a line between her brows, “how did you know that?”

“I pay attention, milady.” Robin answers with a slight grin, reaching over to let the tips of his fingers dance over her skin. He wants her again already. Can never seem to get enough of her and these little trysts are much too few and far between for his liking. If it were up to Robin, he’d have her in this large, luxurious bed every night.

Harrumphing, she lays her head back on his chest, focusing on the steady and even beating of his heart beneath her ear drum once more. “There hasn’t really been anything to pay much attention to lately. Mal and I haven’t been together that way since well before I cast the dark curse.” She’s tried to mend their friendship some, but there are a plethora of bruised feelings between them. It’s been difficult for both of them to move past.

Still, he’s managed to surprise her. But then the damn thief is far too observant for his own good. Sees too much. Can read her too easily. Only one more reason why she shouldn’t be doing this. Letting him into her bed, being even fractionally vulnerable with him (even if it is for just a short time), is a terrible decision. The trouble is, Regina doesn’t seem to be able to stop. Probably due to that damn tattoo on his wrist. Her heart knocks painfully in her chest as her eyes dart down to the black inked flesh. She won’t allow herself to consider what it means. What this man could potentially be to her. If she did, she’d never allow this, and, frankly, it’s one of the only things getting her by these days.

So it really shouldn’t come as much of a shock that he’s been able to read the silent vibes between her and Maleficent, but it does all the same. Partly because Regina hadn’t really realized that those feelings still might linger until this very moment.

“Even so,” Robin’s voice breaks through her silent musings, “there’s something there. I’m not shocked to hear that you two were intimate at one time.”

He doesn’t seem to be bothered by that fact either. Something that Regina is grateful for. For all his flaws, Robin is ever non-judgemental of her. Shocking really when you think about it. The Evil Queen. A woman who has done unspeakable things, remains unjudged by the one man who is supposedly tethered to her.

However, they’ve gotten off task, and Robin had asked a question that he’s quite interested in hearing the rest of her answer to. “Back to this fantasy of yours. Then you mean…”

Regina lifts her head, rests her chin on Robin’s chest and meets his gaze as she confirms, “Yes. What it would be like to have a woman join me and my…” Her voice trails off for a moment before she stutters over the word, “partner,” for lack of a better term, rolling her eyes at the pleased glint that instantly shines in Robin’s gaze, “in bed.”  

Robin merely hums, mulling over the idea. “Would certainly be an interesting experience, I am sure.” He smiles as Regina rolls her eyes at him and collapses back on his chest. No doubt, she will kick him out before much longer. So he relishes the time that she grants him. Even as his mind swirls with possibilities.

…

It stays with him.

The image of Regina and Maleficent. He’s positive that they had to have been breathtaking together. And over the course of the next several days he watches their interactions a bit more closely. There’s distance there now, but as he observes them, Robin thinks that it might be rooted more in caution than actual lack of feeling. Especially as the blonde watches her walk away, eyes lingering over the sway of the Queen’s hips in her tight leather pants and dresses that cling to her like a second skin.

A week after their discussion, Robin grows bold, settling across from the dragon at dinner, much to the confusion of both his men and the other inhabitants of the castle. They’ve never spoken before. Maleficent is much too quiet, prefers to seclude herself rather than participate in their war council, only speaks to Regina privately on occasion.

Merely raising one defined brow at him, she questions, “Something I can help you with, thief?”

Her voice is sultry and deep, and the shiver that runs down Robin’s spine at hearing it is unexpected. The use of Regina’s nickname for him does things to him as well. Not that it’s not true. He is a thief. But no one other than the queen refers to him as such here.

Robin studies her, takes in the voluminous blonde curls, the defined cheekbones, plump lips. Then there’s those eyes. They’re truly captivating. Draw him in until he’s rather mesmerized. Tearing off a hunk of bread from his plate, he takes a bite, swallowing it down with a swig of ale from his cup before he comments, “You care for her.”

Recognition and surprise flicker through the depths of those sky blue irises, and neither of them question to whom he is referring. “And if I do? What’s it to you?”

She’s barely touched any of the food on her plate. He’d watched her for several minutes before sitting down, and the woman across from him had done nothing but nibble at the array of meats and cheeses before her. Even now, she continues to ignore the plate in front of her as she watches him. Waiting for him to answer.

“So do I.” Robin finally replies, studying Maleficent’s face closely for her reaction. There’s no surprise in her gaze, merely a considering expression as she murmurs softly, I know. And apparently he and Regina haven’t done quite so well a job at hiding their relationship (if one could even call it that) as she would have liked. Or perhaps this woman is just more observant than most. Or she cares more than the rest.

Either way, it makes what he’s about to propose a bit easier for him to manage. Taking another sip of his ale, Robin watches her, as Maleficent does the same to him. Almost as if she’s trying to draw some conclusion, seeking an answer to a question Robin is not privy to.

Finally, Robin caves under the intensity of Mal’s gaze, setting his goblet aside as he tells the other woman, “Regina and I had an… interesting discussion the other night.”

He thinks he sees a slight twitch to her lips a moment before her features return to something neutral and she asks, “Did you? And what’s that to do with me?” Her fingers drum lightly on the wooden table, an idle movement.

Heat rises to Robin’s cheeks as his tongue darts out to wet suddenly dry lips. It’s not every day he asks a powerful sorceress to join his and his lover’s bed, after all. But there is interest in the blue eyes that study him. It’s not blatantly obvious, but it’s there. Just under the surface. And it’s enough for him to power through his request, hoping to hell that he’s not about to be burned to a crisp for his audacity.

“Regina mentioned you and she have a… history. Something I’d worked out for myself, but she brought to light other more… intimate aspects to your relationship.” Maleficent remains silent, only the slight lift of her eyebrow any indication that she’s listening to him. Swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat, Robin carries on. “And her interest in how it might feel if you were to perhaps join us one evening.”

It’s not exactly what she had said. Not in so many words. But neither had she denied her continued interest in Maleficent. Robin may have drawn his own conclusions, but he is certain that Regina would not be opposed to the woman sitting across from them in her bed alongside him. He can only hope that the dragon is as opened minded and accepting of him.

She hums, lifting her glass for a sip of the rich red wine in it. “That is interesting. Though you seem to be managing things fine on your own.” There’s a hint of jealousy, or maybe not jealousy so much as possessiveness, in the way that Mal says it. So she’s been watching them more closely than Robin had realized. It would seem she’s not quite over Regina either. “Why would I consider such a proposition? From you and not her no less?”

How to answer that question?

As Robin tries to come up with a worthy answer, Maleficent watches him with interest. To say that she isn’t intrigued by the thief and his relationship with the queen would be a lie. They had seemed an odd pair to her, though upon further thought Mal had begun to understand the appeal. Regina had always been attracted to the less refined, earthly men. And he seems to understand her in a way that not many people seem able, even if Regina does push him away half of the time.

That in itself is telling.

Maleficent can’t deny that he’s quite attractive. The rough stubble along his jaw, the solidness of his build, those dimples that even make butterflies erupt in her stomach. She certainly can’t fault Regina for desiring this man. Suddenly, the image of that stubble tickling along her skin, those strong hands stroking over her body, fills her mind and heat stabs low in her abdomen. Intriguing indeed.

Robin’s response is all it takes for Maleficent to make her decision.

“Because it’s something we can give her. Something we can offer to help ease her heartache, even momentarily with a bit of uninhibited, indulgent pleasure.” He angles his head to the side, hoping he won’t be skinned for his next statement. “And I think you still care about her enough to want to do that for her.”

…

His back slams into the stone, his skull scraping slightly, enough that Robin would be seeing stars if he weren’t more concerned with the way Regina’s mouth has latched itself onto his. She’d cornered him in the corridor after a rather infuriating council meeting. They are no closer to defeating her wicked witch of a sister and she’s angry and frustrated and wants to work off a little steam.

What better way to do that than delicious orgasms courtesy of the thief?

Regina presses her body into his, soft breasts crushed against his chest as his hands find purchase on her hips, squeezing slightly as her mouth wars with his. Her tongue sweeps through his mouth, relishing Robin’s unique flavor before she nips at his lower lip, sinking her teeth into it, all while rocking against the thigh wedged between her owns. She wants him. Now. Here. Regina doesn’t care who might wander by their little darkened hallway. She needs a distraction.

So when Robin stills her with a hand to her jaw, pulling his mouth from hers, and a murmured, Wait, wait… Regina grumbles and glares at him. “What’s the matter? I don’t want to talk.” Shifting impossibly closer, Regina brings her mouth to his ear, whispering huskily, “I want you to make me scream.”

Lord. Her words go straight to Robin’s cock and his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head as he struggles to reign in the fierce want for this woman. But there’s turmoil in her eyes that breaks his heart a bit. And he has a surprise for her. One that will not be happy to be kept waiting while they linger in this corridor.

Her mouth sucks strong kisses along his jaw and down his neck, nearly distracts him from his aim once more, but somehow, miraculously, Robin manages to draw the queen away from him again just enough that he can gaze into her eyes. If both of them weren’t so worked up already, her little huff of annoyance would likely amuse him. He strokes a thumb over her cheek, gazing into the storm brewing behind those gorgeous chocolate colored eyes he adores, before requesting, “Take us to your chambers.”

Robin doesn’t miss the gleam of satisfaction in Regina’s gaze a split second before they are caught in a cloud of purple smoke, her magic surrounding them until they land in her room. Her mouth is on his again instantly as she groans into the kiss, her tongue running along the seam of his lips, and her fingers tangling in his hair as they stumble toward the bed.

“My, my, isn’t that a lovely sight to behold.”

The soft, feminine voice startles Regina out of the kiss, wrenching her mouth from Robin’s as her head whips around to find Maleficent lounging on her bed. She’s dressed to kill. A long, black sheer nightgown covering her down to her ankles, matching robe adorned on her shoulders. Though neither hide very much. Hints of alabaster skin peek out, Mal’s breasts framed by the low neckline, her pink nipples just visible through the lace that covers the bodice. She looks absolutely divine.

But what is she doing here? Regina’s gaze lingers on her friend and former lover for a moment before turning back to her current lover with a puzzled expression. “What’s going on here?”

Robin bites his lower lip, a sheepish look crossing his features as his eyes dart over to Mal on the bed. Though Regina doesn’t miss the way they darken visibly at the sight of the dragon either. Meeting Regina’s gaze again Robin answers, “I couldn’t quite get what we talked about the other week out of my head. About your fantasy. Your and Maleficent’s history.” There’s a light blush to his cheeks as he says it, tilting his head slightly to the side as he flicks his eyes quickly to the other woman and then back to Regina. “Maleficent was quite intrigued by the idea as well. We thought it might be something you’d enjoy experiencing.”

Oh. Well then.

“You’re saying the two of you talked about this?” Regina’s eyes move between Robin and Mal.

“Yes,” Robin replies.

The idea of the two of them discussing anything about her should upset her, but strangely enough it does not. Quite the opposite in fact. Them being friendly toward one another is an interesting idea to be certain, and picturing Robin and Mal together… well it’s not something Regina would mind witnessing.

Her eyes find Maleficent’s familiar blue, questioning, “And you’ve agreed to this?” It almost seems too good to be true. And good things do not happen to Regina Mills. Ever. Beyond even that, she and her relationship with the other woman remains rocky. She never would have thought that Mal still had an interest in any sort of intimate or sexual relationship with her.

A slow smirk forms over her face, eyes twinkling as she replies, “I have. I must admit I found the proposition rather compelling, darling. And was impressed with the forwardness of your thief.”

Her thief.

The phrase reverberates through Regina’s mind, her heart, causes a shiver to run through her. Maleficent has no idea how true those words may be. But if they do this, if the other woman gets a glimpse at that tattoo that adorns his wrist she will know. For Regina had once confided in her the tale of a man with a lion tattoo and the possibility of a second chance. And then there will be no more running away from the reality of what Robin could be to her. Not if Mal knows.

But she’d spoken true during that late night conversation. She is curious as to what it would be like. The chance to have not only that, but to have it with Mal and Robin, is too tempting for Regina to turn down.

Turning back to face him, she asks, “And you want this as well? It’s not just for me?”

Robin smiles, brushing a lock of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. Of course this is for her. He’s come to find that he would do just about anything for this woman, shocking as that revelation had been. But he is also quite sure that he will enjoy it immensely. The attraction he feels toward Maleficent had taken him a bit by surprise as well and he is keen on exploring it. Not to mention he would be a fool to turn down two beautiful women. So this is for him just as much as Regina. “Yes,” Robin answers, “I do.”

Then what are they waiting for?

Regina grins, grabbing the lapel of Robin’s tunic with one hand and tugging him to her for another frantic kiss as they continue to walk backwards to where Mal is waiting for them on the bed. When her knees hit the mattress, Robin chuckles and draws back. Then she feels the bed shift behind her a moment before Maleficent’s heat is at her back.

She’s always overly warm, Regina supposes due to her dragon nature, but the familiar way Mal’s arms wrap around her waist, settling her hands over the brunette’s lower abdomen as she places light kisses along Regina’s throat is comforting all the same. Robin watches her movements for a few seconds, admiring the sight of the two of them before he leans down to kiss along Regina’s chest as well. He follows the line of her corset with his tongue, dipping it between the swells of her breasts and Regina moans and closes her eyes.

“So responsive already.” Mal murmurs against her skin, sliding one of the hands around her up to cup her breast through the material of her corset, the other heading in the opposite direction to rub between her legs. The hardness in Robin’s trousers presses against the back of Mal’s hand and she grins at both of them. This is going to be fun.

Regina hums, rocking into Mal’s touch and opening her eyes in confusion when both of their mouths leave her skin. When she’s greeted by the sight of Robin and Mal kissing over her shoulder, she can’t help the groan that rumbles in the back of her throat. They are so beautiful. The both of them. And for tonight she gets to have them together. Sweet anticipation skitters up her spine.

Robin’s hand skims down Maleficent’s arm as their mouths open and part for one another and both of them press closer to her, as if trying to reach each other through her. One of Regina’s hands lifts to thread her fingers through Mal’s blonde curls, the other squeezing between her and Robin’s bodies to lightly stroke his erection and he gasps into Mal’s mouth, pulling away to look at them with dark eyes.

“Gods, I want you both.”

Maleficent grins and then moves away from them to settle back on the bed, though Regina misses her warmth immediately. Regina turns to look at her, Robin’s chest pressing against her back as they take in the delectable sight of the other woman. Her lips are a touch swollen, a bit redder than usual from the pressure of Robin’s mouth. Blonde curls tumble down around her shoulders, the ends teasing the tops of her breasts, and, God, she looks good enough to eat. The thought has Regina growing even wetter between her thighs. It’s been far too long since she’s tasted Mal.

“I want to watch you two. Undress your thief, Regina. Let’s see what the forest has to offer.”

Happily, Regina thinks, turning to the side as Robin moves to stand beside her, in full view of the blonde. He’s smirking at her, his dimples winking out. Clearly he’s enjoying himself as much as she is and they’ve barely even begun.

Raking her eyes over his form, Regina sinks her teeth into her lower lip, lifting her hands to caress up and down his chest, tickling her fingers along the open v neck of his shirt and the hint of bare skin it teases. He’s watching her intently, letting her hands roam wherever they please as he wets his lips with his tongue. Then her hands are gripping at that collar and pulling it apart, ripping it down the middle to reveal Robin’s toned torso, the smattering of light hair that starts just below his bellybutton and trails down to his pants. He really should look into obtaining some finer clothing. Although then it wouldn’t be nearly as easy for her to do what she’s just done, and what a shame that would be.

Robin and Maleficent both chuckle at Regina’s little display of force and the mingled sound of their laughter eases some of the pressure that is ever present in her chest. Quickly, Robin divests himself of the tattered remains of his shirt as he snakes his hands out to tug Regina to him. As his hands slide up her spine, he makes quick work of the strings on her corset, loosening them bit by bit until the material falls to the ground and her glorious tits are at last on display for his and Maleficent’s viewing pleasure.

Both naked to the waist, neither of them waste any time in ridding the other of the remainder of their clothing, all the while kissing and sucking at each other’s skin. Robin buries his face in the crook of Regina’s neck, biting lightly up and down her throat. Her scent fills his nostrils. Lavender and just a hint of apples and it has him growing even harder. The proof of exactly how much he wants this woman now visible to them all.

Her arms wrap around his neck and Regina’s nails scrape along his shoulder blades, leave angry red marks as she tosses one leg over Robin’s hip. She’s slick and hot already and as his cock slides easily along her sex, all three of them release twin groans.

The sound of Mal from the bed diverts both of their attention from each other and back to her. She’s watching them as they make out hungrily, her pupils wide as she caresses her breasts, cups them in her hands and pinches her nipples between her fingers through the thin lace of her night gown. Mal has certainly never been shy about pleasuring herself, but somehow, the sight only spurs Regina and Robin on. “You two are gorgeous,” the blonde sighs.

Regina smiles, glancing at Robin, before letting her leg slide back to the floor and turning to the bed. “And you, my dear Maleficent, are wearing far too many clothes.”

The other woman grins mischievously, lifting her hand and snapping her fingers until she too is naked as they are, spread out for them. Disappointed for the briefest of moments (she’d wanted to strip Mal out of that sinful excuse for nightwear), the feeling quickly vanishes as she takes in the sight before her. She’s magnificent. Every inch of her skin, her long limbs, legs that go on for days and how wonderful it feels to have them wrapped around her. Regina can’t wait to touch her.

Climbing onto the bed, she lays beside the other woman. Finally, finally, kissing her with a fiery passion that feel so natural, so familiar between them. Regina hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this until just this moment. Mal’s fingers thread through her hair, stroking the dark locks and settling into their depths. Her tongue darts out to lick at Regina’s upper lip, sweeping into the cavern of her mouth when she opens easily and eagerly for her.

Regina can’t help but touch the other woman, her hand running over her taut abdomen, along the outside of her breasts, down her arm, anywhere that she can reach. Her skin is so soft. Like rose petals. She is quite certain she could touch and touch for days and never get enough.

Mal’s low and throaty moan as she breaks their kiss and tosses her head back into the pillows startles Regina. But then she’s glancing down and realizes what’s caused the sudden shift in the dragon. Robin has positioned himself between her thighs, is currently licking at her sex over and over again, palming her thighs and spreading them wider. He grins up at Regina as their eyes meet and then wraps his lips around Mal’s clit, sucking firmly.

She shudders beside Regina, gasping and moaning as Robin continues exactly what he’s doing. And it is such a turn on. Regina knows exactly how Mal feels, what she is experiencing. Robin is incredibly skilled with his mouth, and uses it in ways that continuously make her see stars. Regina can practically feel the ghost of the sensation and she hums appreciatively.

Wiggling a bit lower on the bed, Regina lays alongside Mal’s body, picking up those light, teasing caresses over her skin again as Robin worships her body. The blonde’s back arches on a particularly hard suck as Robin adds two fingers to the mix, pumping them slowly in and out of her. Lowering her head, Regina takes one of Mal’s nipples between her lips, flicking her tongue over the pebbled peak, swirling it around.

The combined sensation of having both their attention on her is amazing. Blissful. Maleficent hadn’t realized quite how hot this entire experience would be. She’s lived thousands of years, been with a good number of people, both humans and dragons, and so far, nothing has quite measured up to this encounter. Perhaps it’s because it’s Regina, and their relationship has always been special. But her reactions to the thief are particularly surprising. Not unwanted. But surprising nonetheless.

But then Robin’s fingers are stroking that spot inside her, rubbing over it and crooking just so and pleasure blooms and pulses through every inch of her body. One of Mal’s hands grips the bedsheets, crumpling them in her grasp, as the other clenches in Regina’s hair.

“Oh god, it feels so good. You both feel so good.” Mal moans. She hadn’t expected to come so soon, thought it would be much more of a drawn out process. A leisurely ascent to ecstasy. Obviously, she had been wrong. She’s close already, the muscles in her thighs trembling as Robin licks the flat of his tongue over her sensitive bundle of nerves. Over and over again as he pumps his fingers inside her, adding a third digit as Regina sinks her teeth into her flesh, soothing the slight sting with her tongue and massaging her other breast.

It’s all too much, too wonderful, and with a shout that is entirely uncharacteristic of her, Mal comes. Hard. Her walls spasming around Robin’s fingers as he laps up her release enthusiastically. Regina releases her breast with a wet pop, smirking as she watches the way Mal’s chest rises and falls with her erratic breathing. She kisses her way up her body until her mouth meets hers again, tongues tangling for a brief sloppy kiss.

Giving her another few licks, Robin angles his head and kisses along the soft skin of Mal’s inner thigh tenderly, sighing, “Mmmmm, you’re so beautiful. So sexy,” before he’s crawling up the bed to mirror Regina’s position on the other side of her. His heart soaring at the dazed and satisfied smile painted on Mal’s lip as she watches him. He’s hard as rock. His cock aching and begging for attention it has not received enough of. But the sight and sound of Maleficent coming from just his and Regina’s mouths is well worth it.

Regina turns to smile at Robin, cupping his cheek and pulling him into a kiss of their own. She can taste the other woman on his lips and it’s sexy and arousing, has lust shooting straight to her core. When she and Robin break off their kiss, Regina’s eyes dart down to his straining erection, poking along Mal’s side as he bends and kisses her also.

Reaching out a hand, Regina wraps slender fingers around his length, giving his cock several strokes up and down. Robin gasps into Maleficent’s mouth, dropping his forehead to her shoulder and he can’t quite stop himself from rocking into Regina’s grasp.

“We’ve been neglecting you.” Regina hums, twisting her wrist on every upward and downward pass of her hand.

Robin makes a noncommittal sound, his eyes closed as he shrugs his shoulders slightly, kissing along Mal’s collarbone as her fingers play idly with his hair while watching Regina. She tsks, however, adding, “We can’t have that now. Not when you’ve brought us all together.” Blue eyes meet brown, a playful twinkle in them as she asks Regina, “How should we make it up to him?”

She’s venturing back down from her high now, itching for a bit of turnabout. It only seems fair that she and Regina might torture him a bit. Give him the same attention that he’s just shown her.

With a knowing gleam, Regina pumps her hand up and down a few more times before releasing her grip on him and giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. “On your back, thief.”

Groaning, already missing the feeling of Regina’s hand on him, Robin complies, watching both of them through heavy-lidded eyes as they shift around. Thank god for the large expanse of her bed. Some have called her decadent for it in the past, but she’s grateful for her taste for the luxurious now that there’s plenty of room for the three of them to maneuver on it.

She ends up kneeling next to Robin’s hip with Mal opposite her. The blonde leans over and kisses Robin once more, scraping her nails along his chest, scratching over the toned muscles and his belly quivers beneath her touch. Regina’s hand sweeps over Maleficent’s back, stopping to palm at her ass adoringly before focusing on the task at hand.

Gripping the base of Robin’s shaft in her hand again, she gives him a few more of those light teasing strokes before lowering her head and letting the tip of her tongue pick up the drop of pearly liquid leaking from the head of his cock. It’s barely anything, but Robin still gasps into Mal’s mouth and bucks his hips, apologizing immediately when Regina draws back.

He’s aware of her past troubles with this particular act, is always overly cautious to be as respectful as possible whenever she deigns to grant him this pleasure. Just one more piece of herself that she’s unwittingly shared with him. Assuring him it’s fine, Regina smiles slightly, continuing her easy strokes and  meets Robin’s gaze so he can see the truth of her words and then shifting them to Mal’s. She’s got that knowing look on her face. Also acquainted with Regina’s struggles. She’d witnessed her disastrous marriage to the king after all.

There’s a bit of silent communication between them as Mal leans back on her heels so she’s opposite Regina again and then the blonde smirks at her and lowers her head to Robin’s cock, wrapping her lips around the tip of him and gently sucking.

“Ooohh, god—“ Robin exclaims, gasping as the feel of Maleficent’s tongue swirling over the head of his cock hits him. It’s amazing. Wet and warm as she slowly bobs her head up and down. Over and over again, working Robin up even more.

Regina watches them for a few minutes, admiring the sight of Mal’s pink lips swallowing Robin’s cock, slicking it up with her spit as she teases him. She’d been right. The two of them together are quite a delight indeed. It doesn’t take long until she’s eager to join in on the fun, however. Dipping her head again, Regina licks a line up Robin’s shaft starting from the base to where Mal’s lips reside.

Eyeing him out of the corner of her eye, Regina notes the way his breathing is labored, how his stomach expands and concaves deeply with each inhale and exhale. He’s biting his bottom lip again, and, dammit, the habit does things to her. Makes her want to sink on his cock right here, ride him while Maleficent watches them. Who knew voyeurism was a buried kink of hers?

Navy irises latch onto hers and Robin grins, his dimples deep crevices in his face. He’s enjoying this. Obviously. But it pleases her that she and Mal are able to affect him this way. His whole body grows taunt when Regina kisses lower, sucking lightly on his balls for a few minutes and Mal takes him as far as he will go, just touching the back of her throat, before releasing him with a wet pop.

They trade places, Regina’s lips replacing Mal’s as she takes Robin deep within her mouth, sucking on him thoroughly, while Mal peppers kisses at the base of his shaft. Two of her fingers circle around him and squeeze gently, a move that Robin likes very much apparently if the gutteral grunt he lets out is any indication.

His fingers stroke through Regina’s hair, encouraging her, and she sucks him harder, hollowing her cheeks a bit to increase the pressure. They continue their slow torture of him for a few more minutes until Robin is gasping out, “Ugh, alright, enough. Getting too clos—” Neither of them let up though, walking that precarious edge as he moans and shifts his grip from Regina’s hair to the bed sheets and fists them there. “Oh— love. Stop, please. I’m gonna—”

With a final suck, Regina releases him, flicking her eyes up from where she’d been focused on her task and admiring Robin squirming on the bed, the way he struggles to keep himself in control on the verge of orgasm. She chuckles slightly, turns to look at Maleficent who also has a grin adorning her features as she watches Robin, stroking up and down his thighs as he catches his breath.

Laying down beside him, Regina meets Robin’s mouth for a leisurely kiss as she gives him a few moments to recover. The least she can do after tormenting him the way she had. When the pull apart, he whispers into the slight space between their mouths, “You’re a bloody minx, you know that?”

Regina’s laughter echoes around them. A truly beautiful sound if he’s ever heard one. It occurs to him that he and Maleficent have been rather lacking in giving her attention, which had been the whole point of this little endeavor. They’ve gotten a bit carried away it would seem. Though, Regina certainly seems to have been enjoying herself.

Still, when Mal crawls up the bed and hovers over Regina, capturing her mouth with a kiss, Robin makes no objection. Nor does he when the blonde woman slips her thigh between Regina’s, allowing the brunette to grind against it, groaning. He’s still a bit on edge, more than happy to let the two of them have some time with each other. He places a hand at the small of Mal’s back, running his fingers up each vertebrae of her spine.

As Regina hikes her hip up over Mal’s, rocking against her while their lips press together and their tongues dance with one another, Robin props himself up on an elbow and leans over to follow the path he’s just traced with his tongue instead of his fingers, enjoying the shiver the move elicits from Mal, moaning into Regina’s mouth. He can feel the echo of it along her spine.

Maleficent’s hands journey over Regina’s body, caressing smooth skin, squeezing her breasts and plucking at her nipples. Something she knows the other woman to like. She’s rewarded with a loud moan and the feel of Regina’s fingers tightening in her hair. She rocks more insistently against Mal’s thigh, her slickness coating her skin and she can’t help slipping her hand lower, rubbing two fingers over Regina’s clit.

Dipping two fingers inside her, Mal thrusts her fingers in and out, letting her palm slap against that sensitive nub on each pass and Regina gasps and babbles incoherently, her eyes squeezing shut to absorb the pleasure. Robin has shifted, hovering over her as he kisses along her back and Mal’s thighs clench automatically with desire. She wants to feel him. Wants to know what it feels like to have him pounding into her.

Turning to look over her shoulder at him, Mal demands, “Fuck me.”

Robin groans, his hands roaming over her back, her ass cheeks as he squeezes his fingers around her hips. He can see how wet she is and he wants nothing more than to sink inside the warm temptation that is Maleficent’s cunt. Meeting Regina’s eyes over Mal’s shoulder, she gives him an almost imperceptible nod before she’s letting out another gasp as Mal hooks her fingers inside her.

It’s all the permission Robin needs. Gripping the base of his shaft he angles his cock into her, slowly pushing inside. Only the tip of him at first before he’s withdrawing and pushing back in deeper. He repeats the motion over and over again until he’s inside her to the hilt and Mal is moaning as he thrusts into her. She’s still fingering Regina, circling her thumb around her clit and sucking on her nipples. But all Robin can focus on is how hot she is. Wrapped around him like an inferno. It’s amazing. Incredible.

He’s still a bit on edge, and it certainly won’t take him very long to finish. Not like this. With Mal wrapped around him, her warm, wet heat driving him closer and closer to that peak. Robin shifts his hand, maneuvering it between Mal and Regina’s bodies and he rubs at her clit as Mal pounds her fingers in and out of her. Together, they work Regina up, and every movement is effortless. Every sigh and moan music to their ears as they bring her pleasure. She’s needed this.

Suddenly, Mal’s pulling her fingers out of her, bringing them to her lips and Regina groans at both the loss of them and the sight of the woman licking her wetness from her, savoring the taste with a low hum. Her eyes lock on Regina’s as she tells her, “Scoot up the bed, dear. I want to make you come on my tongue.” Regina’s eyes nearly roll to the back of her head at that and she nods eagerly, more than happy to comply.

Robin is still thrusting into Mal, their bodies moving together with each pass of his cock and she takes a moment to admire them for a minute, the light sheen of sweat to Robin’s skin, the look of pure bliss on Mal’s face as she closes her eyes and absorbs each sensation. Her mouth open on a tiny “o” of pleasure on a particularly deep thrust, her tongue peeking out to wet her lips.

They look marvelous. She wants to watch them like this all the time. Regina hopes to hell, that this will not be the last time the three of them are together. Now that’s she’s experienced what it can feel like, how amazing it is, she thinks she’s a bit addicted to them.

Once she settles more comfortably at the head of the bed, Regina spreads her legs to grant Maleficent access. The blonde smirks as she opens her eyes to the image of Regina before her, a mischievous glint to her blue gaze, and then leans forward a bit more. The shift must do something to the angle that Robin is at inside her because Mal moans loudly, crying out, “Oh, yes. Oh, god, yes. Just like that.”

Pride flashes across Robin’s features and he picks up his pace some just as Mal wraps her arms around Regina’s thighs and tugs her cunt to her face. Her tongue dives into her immediately, flicking up and down inside her and Regina groans. Letting her hands slide up her torso, Regina cups her breasts, squeezing her nipples between her fingers and tugging on them.

“Fuck, that’s sexy.” Robin murmurs, his voice a bit breathless, the effort of what he’s doing distracting him. But the sight of Maleficent between Regina’s thighs as she touches herself is bloody gorgeous. If he weren’t already ridiculously close, that view alone would have him barreling faster to the edge. Robin slows his thrusts some. He wants to watch Mal make her come before the two of them finish.

The blonde protests with a tiny whine, but doesn’t move her mouth from Regina’s sex. She tastes just as Mal remembers her and it’s been too long, she can’t get enough. Switching to suck at her clit, she circles her tongue around the bud, relishing each gasp and moan that the action draws from Regina. Every pass of her tongue has the other woman growing wetter, practically dripping and Mal laps at her enthusiastically.

Robin’s fingers are rubbing at her own clit, his mouth kissing along her shoulder blades as he mutters compliments into her skin. And the damn combination of Robin behind her and Regina before her drives her closer to the edge, her walls fluttering pleasantly around Robin’s cock. That sweet ache inside her growing stronger as he slides in and out.

She knows why he’s slowed down, is well aware of how close he’d been earlier and everything they’ve done since has surely only worked him up all the more. Maleficent doubles her efforts on Regina, determined to have the woman crying out for her. She sucks harder, firmer, switching between the deep pulls and rapid flicks of her tongue.

Regina moans, babbling incoherently, “Please, mmmmm, feels so good, Mal— I’m so close. Just a little bit,” her voice trails off on a moan, back arching against the mattress, thighs closing around Mal’s head. “Oh, yes, right there. Oh—”

Regina comes with a shout of Maleficent’s name, her entire body on fire as waves of pleasure wash over her. She feels warm and sated, her limbs tingling as she manages to open her eyes enough to look down at Mal and grin stupidly. The woman is smiling back at her, a grin that reminds her of a cat that ate the canary on her face.

But Robin’s picked up his pace again, watching Mal making her come proving to be too much for him to handle and he’s driving into her at a rapid speed. The sound of their skin slapping together ringing through the room as Maleficent groans, mixing with Robin’s grunts every thrust. Her forehead drops to Regina’s thigh and her fingers sink into her skin as she tries to ground herself.

It feels too good though. Robin is thick and full, stretching her in a way that she hasn’t felt in a very long time. Every wet slide increasing the friction between their bodies until she’s steadily climbing toward her peek. Regina sits up some then, enough that her hand can move to rub at Mal’s clit while Robin fucks her.

Tipping her head back, Mal lifts her face for a kiss, one Regina happily bends to grant. Her tongue sweeps into the blonde’s mouth, tasting herself and a bit of what must have been wine from dinner. Together, she and Robin focus their attention on Mal for the next few minutes until she is crying out their names, gasping as her muscles clench around Robin’s cock.

He groans, tossing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to maintain control through her orgasm, letting her ride it out for as long as she can. But the fluttering and spasming of her muscles is too much and with a few quick jerks of his hips against hers, Robin is spilling inside her, groaning at the release after so much build up.

The three of them collapse into a heap of limbs on the bed, all struggling to catch their breath. That had been more intense than any of them had anticipated. It doesn’t take too long before they are moving to snuggle together on the bed, Regina sandwiched between their bodies. Mal’s fingers brush the hair from her forehead, trailing her fingers lovingly down the side of her face as Robin’s hand skims down her side, over her hip.

His mouth moves to her ear, whispering, “Was it everything you imagined, milady?”

Regina laughs, a light airy sound that makes both of her lovers smile. “More than.” She sobers for a minute, cupping Mal’s cheek and meeting her steady gaze. “Thank you,” she turns her head, looking at Robin over her shoulder, “both of you.”

He grins at her, a boyish, impish thing as he tells her, “I believe the pleasure was all ours,” his eyes meeting Maleficent’s. The blonde nods her agreement, leaning forward and capturing his lips for a kiss, turning to do the same with Regina before laying back down.

They drift off after that. All of them surprisingly comfortable with their positions.

It might not have been said aloud, but they all know that they won’t be able to keep from doing this again. Not now that they know how marvelous it feels. As they succumb to dreams, all new sorts of fantasies of what they can do to each other dance through each of their minds. It seems the adventure is only beginning.

[alannah-corvaine]

Whispers pls tell us more about Brina (and Jacke ;)

OH HI HELLO/pulls out a chair/offers you a drink/puts on storytime hatlets do this

Rebecca Brianna Cross was born the third child to Rolande and Marietta Cross, a moderately wealthy midlander merchant couple living in Lower LaNoscea. Rolande owned a profitable shipping company based out of Moraby Drydocks, where both the company warehouse and Cross Manor are located. He did business both locally with Limsa Lominsa and across international waters, so their family was never lacking in gil or material comforts.

Rebecca also had two sisters, Lacey and Pippa (whose full name was Philippa, but you didn’t ever call her that unless you wanted the cold shoulder), both older than her. The three were close, though being the youngest Brina was sometimes left out of things. They had their flaws, as all siblings do. Lacey was materialistic and Pippa was vain, hardly surprising when their father spoiled them. But they loved each other all the same.

Brina, of course, is not her real name. As a child she hated the name Rebecca, so she insisted on being called by her middle name. Well, children have a habit of botching pronunciation, so instead of Brianna she’d say Brina. The nickname never stuck, however, and her parents continued to call her Rebecca while her sisters referred to her as Becca. Jacke is the only one to ever honor the nickname she chose for herself.

She was eight years old when she met Jacke for the first time. He was ten then, scampering along the docks with a cleverness and cunning advanced for his age. Brina had been accompanying her father to the warehouse and was left to her own devices while he discussed inventory and profits with his overseers. She’d caught a glimpse of gold in the rafters, and her eyes followed his escape through a nearby window.

She could have told her father. Instead, curious, she’d quietly followed the boy outside to find him caught between tall crates with no escape. He didn’t find it very funny when she’d laughed at him, trapped as he was, and he was sure he’d be thrown in the brig again. But Brina’s never found much use in decorum, and promised to help him out and keep quiet if he’d teach her to climb like she’d seen him do in the rafters. Jacke agreed.

Their friendship has only ever been somewhat of a half-secret. Brina’s never denied that he’s her best friend, and most of the town had seen them together at some point, no matter how stealthy they thought they were being. Often they’d sneak away to Aleport, laughing at how clever they thought they were. For the most part, her parents turned a blind eye as long as she stayed out of trouble.

Jacke taught her how to sneak, how to fight, how to defend herself. He taught her how to watch people and look for their tells. And of course, how to climb. Her favorite nights were those when they’d break into the lighthouse and climb to the top to watch the sun rise. In return, she taught him how to read and the ins and outs of the merchant business as well as she knew.

And then Jacke left. He got caught up with the wrong people and the wrong business, and years later he still won’t talk about the things he’d done. For three and a half years he was gone, and there was nothing for Brina to do but bow to her parents’ pressure to learn how to be a lady.

She sat through endless dull hours of etiquette lessons and learned how to sew, wore corsets and hoop skirts that she hated, and tried to pretend that her heart was in it. In reality, she missed Jacke fiercely. She missed their adventures and feeling free under the starry sky. She missed talking to somebody that understood her, for as much as she loved her family, she didn’t always relate to their overwhelming need to fit into society.

Jacke came back six months before tragedy struck. They’d both changed in his time away; her spine stood a bit straighter, his eyes were a bit harder. It took them time to fall back into the comfort of their old friendship. Jacke especially was different, and wouldn’t say much about his new line of work. Brina began to feel torn between him and her family.

Perhaps it was because he’d suddenly noticed the large class difference between them, but he began keeping her at arms’ length when he never had before. And maybe because she was now sixteen and in puberty’s prime, Brina noticed that he wasn’t just her childhood playmate anymore, but somebody that she cared about so much that it made her chest ache to think about it.

Things were awkward between them for a while. She couldn’t sneak out of the house as much as she could before, her parents expected her to be an upstanding lady now. Jacke, now a fixture at the Dutiful Sisters of the Edelweiss, tried to keep her out of the more dangerous parts of his life as much possible. Still though, they kept in touch and spent time together when they could. Their friendship was slowly mending.

And then one blood-soaked night changed everything.

Rolande Cross had been keeping secrets. He’d been dealing under the table, making promises he couldn’t make good on. They discovered, later, that he’d left a mountain of debt behind, and after his death the shipping company was dismantled and sold off to pay for it.

The Cross family was found in the early hours of the morning, slaughtered like livestock. Rolande had been tossed into the bay with heavy blocks tied to his ankles, and his body was later retrieved thanks to the efforts of the Yellowjackets. Marietta and Lacey were found on the drawing room floor in Cross Manor. Unspeakable violence and horror had been done to them, until the whole room was a canvas of blood. All that was left of Pippa was a trail of blood leading down the hall, as though she’d been dragged.

It was Jacke who found Brina, late in the afternoon after most of the gawkers had been cleared out by the Port Authority. Her mother had pushed her into an old cellar through a trap door hidden beneath a rug in the drawing room floor. She’d heard everything that had happened to her mother and sisters, every scream, every gunshot, every slice of a sword and thud of an axe. She was catatonic when Jacke pulled her out of the house, and she hasn’t spoken a single word in the seven years since.

So she came to be living at the Dutiful Sisters under Jacke’s watchful care. For weeks Brina never left her room and barely ate, until one day she came to Jacke and explained, through awkward signing, that she wanted to do what he did. She wanted to enforce the Code, to keep unruly pirates in their place so that what happened to her family would never happen to anyone else. If vengeance was on her mind, she didn’t let it show.

Knowing that as the sole surviving member of the Cross family Brina would always have a target on her head and not knowing what else to do for her, Jacke agreed. He trained her and introduced her to the guild, who for the most part asked no questions beyond enough to discern whether or not she could be trusted.

Jacke, V'kebbe, and Underfoot became her new family, even as she sorely mourned the loss of her old one. Now, seven years later, she’s gone from blossoming socialite to a silent stalker of the night, delivering punishment to codebreakers at the end of her shortblades. Every year she gets a little closer to finding her family’s killers, though this is something she keeps from Jacke.

Their friendship is stronger than ever, and she feels eternally grateful to him for taking her in when she had nowhere else to go. Still, it’s been an adjustment for both of them. Her silence fills the space between them that was once filled with witty banter and repartee. Now, he does the talking for both of them and she serves as his right hand blade.

And maybe she loves him, but even if she could say it, she never would.

SO ANYWAY that’s Brina’s story. I hope you enjoyed, anon. 😥 Please clean up all popcorn on the way out and tune in next week for tales from Khi’s childhood in Othard! 👍

((Sorry I couldn’t pretty up this longass post with screenshots, I’m stuck at work writing on my phone. 😵 ))