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alexandra-herman-blog1 · 8 years ago

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Post-its and Paperclips

Regina and Robin are coworkers trapped in their office on Christmas Eve due to a snow storm. When Roland is distraught over the lack of Christmas decorations in the office Regina decides that they’ll make their own Christmas out of office supplies. Done for the wonderful Outlaw Queen Advent Calendar. Cover image by the lovely @ninzied :D

The snow falls in thick flakes as he and Roland rush through the cold night, traipsing through the piles of snow on the sidewalk. Not even the salt that had been scattered over the walk doing much in the way of keeping it from accumulating. Robin scoops his boy up into his arms, smiling when his high pitch squeal of delight erupts from him. It’s Christmas Eve and he should not be at the office. He and Roland are supposed to be at home, snuggled up in the living room with a fire and their multicolored and extravagantly decorated Christmas tree, reading stories and sipping on warm cider before he puts Roland to bed so Santa can visit. He is not supposed to be fighting his way through a snow storm with his son for a work emergency.

But he’d gotten a call from Gold, his boss, an hour ago regarding some problem with their biggest account and the possibility of it falling through. Robin’s worked too hard on the project to take a chance of it blowing up. So here he is, son in tow. Hopefully he can sort things out relatively quick and they can be on their way.

“It’s dark, Daddy.” Roland comments once he’s swiped his key card for late night access into the building and they stop to shake the snow off themselves in the lobby.

“I know, my boy. But look,” Robin takes several steps further into the building and an overhead light immediately flickers on. “We just have to walk around some and they pop right on.” Roland’s delighted by the prospect, laughing as he takes off at a brisk trot down the hallway toward Robin’s office and giggling each time he makes one of the lights turn on.

Chuckling, Robin follows him. By the time he reaches their little cluster of offices Roland is already sitting in his desk chair. Spinning merrily. That’s when he notices the light on in her office. What is she doing here? He shouldn’t be surprised. The woman is a damn workaholic and a perfectionist to boot. But it is the night before Christmas after all and he would have thought today, of all days at least, she would have somewhere better to be. If it weren’t for this conference call he needs to make Robin certainly would not be here.

Leaving Roland to his own devices for a few more minutes he walks over to her office, stopping to lean casually against the jamb and taking her in. She’s hunched over some file, reading intently, tapping her fingers irritatedly as she always does in staff meetings. She’s dressed in her usual work attire, button down shirt and tight pencil skirt. The ones that drive Robin mad whether he likes to admit it to himself or not. But she’s kicked off her shoes, stocking clad feet bare, one of which is tucked underneath her thigh and for some odd reason he finds that minor detail to be incredibly endearing.

“Working rather late on a holiday, aren’t you?”

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alexandra-herman-blog1 · 8 years ago

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All I Want For Christmas

For the anon who prompted “Robin and Regina get into an argument at Christmas, and Roland and Henry take it upon themselves to reunite them.” And for @sometimesangryblackwoman who prompted “What are you going to do about it” for Dimples Believer from my prompt list.

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alexandra-herman-blog1 · 8 years ago

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She speaks his name as though they’ve known each other a lifetime. For the first time, Robin Hood finds his aim faltering. He watches her approach, her eyes never leaving his, and feels as though he should know her - the woman in her dark clothes and gloves - as if they were once connected. Shaking his head free of inane thoughts, he straightens, pulling his bowstring taut once more. He never misses a shot. His aim is always true; his arrow always finds its target. Why should it be any different now?

She speaks again, his name a sweet utterance from her lips, a slight lift to its ending as if questioning if it really is him. Behind her, the lady with the blond hair and royal coat yells out a frantic cry as the portal on the ground diminishes. All the better, he thinks as he returns his gaze to the dark-haired one. They’d have nowhere to run; one more successful robbery to add to his reputation.

The one who’d addressed him takes another step forward, and he orders her to stop moving, or he’ll put an arrow through her heart. She flinches as if he’s struck her. She stops, not more than five feet away. Tears pool in soft brown eyes, and once more, he gets the oddest sense of familiarity.

What was it her companion called her?

Regina.

When her lips tremble, guilt pricks his conscience, an unusual turn of events. Fear is an effective tool for what he does. Seldom does it affect him, yet the thought that this lady he barely knows – Regina – is afraid of him is a thought that troubles him.

He lowers his bow just the slightest. “Off with the jewellery,” he says as if they hadn’t heard the first time.

The portal is closed now. As the blond woman moves to join them, up goes the bow.

“Don’t come any closer,” he warns. “Or I swear, the next arrow will find a place that hurts.”

The royal fixes him with a distressed frown. “Robin, I know you don’t remember us, but please, try. We need your help.”

“And what makes you think I would help you, a mere stranger?”

“Because no matter what world this is, I refuse to believe you would shoot your soulmate, especially not after you’ve given up your life for her.“

He scowls. "What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Regina, the woman standing right here, staring at you like you’ve just risen from the dead. You sacrificed your life for her, Robin. Surely you remember that.”

“And surely you think me a fool to believe you,” he says sardonically, and the blonde’s face falls.

As for her companion, she hasn’t moved from her position since he’s demanded her to stop. Her eyes are fixed on the ground somewhere at his feet, a wet streak on her face betraying a tear. His heart does a strange sort of pitter-patter when he turns his gaze towards her, and a part of him wishes she would look at him again.

She doesn’t.

In that moment, he makes up his mind. He’s not foolish enough to believe stories of magical love and happy endings; life has dealt him too much to believe such silly tales, but these strangers intrigue him. They seem to truly believe the absurdness of what they’re saying. Perhaps he would take them with him – for a small price.

“Your jewellery,” he says. “And I will offer you the help you need.”

“Deal,” the blond woman replies.

He lowers his bow, watching as she complies with his request, but it isn’t long before his gaze wanders back to the dark-haired one, the sudden rapid thumping of his heart revealing the truth: his offer of assistance had nothing to do with jewellery and everything to do with the one called Regina.

She is quiet, speaking only in one-word answers whenever her friend, Emma, poses her a question, even less when he tries to make conversation with her, replying only with nods and shakes of her head. If his questions require a more verbal reply, he is met with silence, leaving Emma to fill in the blanks for her.

“She’s in shock,” the blonde tells him back at his camp when Regina excused herself to go to bed, consisting of worn-out blankets in a tent. “That, and probably a little bit of heartbreak. You aren’t exactly who we remember back in Storybrooke.”

When he asked how he’d been like, she piles him with details of his alleged other life. Of a son named Roland, of robbing the rich to give to the poor – he’d scoffed at that one, because he robs but certainly not out of a compassionate heart for the less privileged – and of his love with the Evil Queen.

“She hardly seems evil,” he remarks, poking at the glowing embers of a dying fire. “Truth be told, she seems anything but.”

“Well, we did sort of leave the dark side of Regina in the other world,” Emma says, sighing. “It’s a long, complicated story.”

The more he listens, the more it sounds like a tall tale, yet what do these women benefit from spinning such lies? Certainly not to deceive their way out of a robbery for their jewellery is already in his possession. He spends the entire night awake, partly because he is unused to strangers in his camp, more because of the unsettling emotions thrumming within him, feelings that he thought he’d never experience again after Marian’s death, yet now it seems they’ve risen to life with twice the intensity.

When morning arrives, Regina is the first of the two to wake. She emerges from the tent, looking almost embarrassed when she spots him. She tucks her hair behind one ear, avoiding his gaze, and joins him by the campfire that had burned itself out during the night, leaving behind white ash, charred wood, and the faint smell of smoke in the air.

“Did you sleep well, milady?” he asks after having scoured his mind for an appropriate topic. Not the most innovative question, but he figures it’s a safe starter for a conversation, one that fails because all she does is give him a stiff nod.

He watches her as silence descends upon them. She is beautiful, he sees, almost unreasonably so with a strong jawline, full lips, and dark doe-like eyes he knows he can lose himself in if he gives himself a chance, if she gives him a chance. He’s seen her smile, too, when Emma talked about a boy named Henry last night – only once and with reservation – but it’d been enough to make his heart quicken its pace.

What had it been like in this other world, make-believe or not, to see her smile, freely?

“Emma says my tattoo convinced you we’re soulmates.”

Her gaze flickers to him. He reads a hint of apprehension on her face as though she suspects he might be making fun of her. He had found the idea ludicrous the first time he heard it, but he has no intention of hurting her, so he returns her gaze steadily.

“It wasn’t just the tattoo,” she finally says, looking away. “It was how I felt every time I was with…with—” she stops, unable to finish.

“With me,” he says.

She fixes her eyes on him, observing him with caution. “Then you believe?” Her voice is soft, almost as if she’s afraid to hope.

Does he?

His mind says no, but his heart, it craves for the world she speaks of.

For her.

“I don’t know,” he admits, watching disappointment fall across her face like a shadow. “But I do know how I feel when I see you, when I’m with you.” He searches her eyes, and he is a drowning man lost in their depths. “I want to believe, Regina.”

And she smiles.

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alexandra-herman-blog1 · 8 years ago

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365: Day 1 cont. {An OQ Anthology}

If you were granted more time with someone you lost… how would you spend it?

The Wish

Day 1

————

The ticking of the clock is the only thing that she can hear.

The sound of it drowns out everything else. Every second is punctuated with a tiny tick and a pins slide into her heart as they thunder in her ears.

It’s nearly midnight and they’re sitting on the couch together in silence. His left arm is around her shoulders pulling her closer into his side while his right arm rest on the side of the couch, palm up so they can both the tattoos on his forearm. The lion tattoo, the first piece of him that she’d ever known. She used to run her fingers over it as they’d lay in bed together, ever the reminder that against all odds she’d managed to find her soulmate. Seeing it used to bring her peace.

But now, the lion no longer holds the calming effect that it once did.

Not with the number above its head.

365.

It’s been sitting there on his arm all day. Taunting her. Mocking her. Telling her what she already knew in her heart was true.

That whatever had caused Robin’s reappearance would not be permanent.

They wasted no time getting to Gold’s shop after the number appeared.

He was not pleased to see her. After everything that had happened between him and her dark half their relationship had become more hostile than ever. They mostly avoided each other and Regina would’ve preferred to keep it that way but her desperation overrode her feelings toward Gold. The same, however, could not be said for him.

He’d practically thrown her out the minute she’d stepped foot inside. Her pleading was not enough to acquire his assistance but thankfully a request from his grandson had been.

Despite his reluctance, he examined the tattoo on Robin’s arm. A smirk appeared on his face as he looked it over.

“Well, well,” he drawled, bringing his eyes up to Regina’s. “Looks like someone made a wish.”

“What does it mean?” asked Regina, ignoring the superiority in his attitude.

“Exactly what you think it does,” Gold calmly replied. “It appears your thief’s time on this earth is limited.”

“Can you fix it?” asked Robin.

Gold eyes flickered over to him. “There’s nothing to be fixed.”

“The hell there isn’t!” growled Regina. “This is-”

“Exactly what you wished for,” Gold coldly interjected. “The devil’s in the details dearie. And the wish is in the wording. Now tell me Regina. What did you wish for that night at Robin’s grave?”

Regina hesitated before answering in a small voice, “I wished that we’d had more time together.”

“And you received it!” Gold said, gesturing toward the tattoo. “More time with your true love. A whole year’s worth in fact.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The fates were being quite generous if you ask me.”

“I assure you… no one was,” Robin gritted out.

Gold narrowed his eyes at him. “Might I remind you that it was you who came to my door not the other way around,” he hissed. “Do not insult me because you don’t like what I have to say.”

His eyes fell back down to the number on Robin’s forearm. “It appears you don’t have very much time left, thief. And I don’t need a tattoo to know that you’re wasting mine.”

He began to walk toward the back of his shop, tossing over his shoulder, “I assume you can weep over your fate elsewhere.”

After Gold left there wasn’t much else to say.

Of course, she hadn’t been that lucky.

Of course, Robin wasn’t here to say.

Like the rest of her life Robin’s reappearance would follow a very specific pattern. One brief flicker of happiness, followed by a never-ending stretch of misery. And just when she’d dared to hope.

They sit together and wait with bated breath as they listen for the clock to strike twelve. One final tick and the hands reunite at the top of the clock. Their heads swivel in its direction when they hear the chime signaling midnight’s arrival. Her heart pounds when she sees the time and her gaze immediately falls to the number tattooed across his forearm.

They watch together as the clock chimes once… then twice… a third time… and a fourth… until finally…

365…

364.

Her throat nearly closes up when she sees that five disappear into smoke. A four takes its place and she lets out a sob. She feels the tiny bit of hope she’d held onto flicker away.

He’s pressing kisses into her hair as she cries. “It’s alright, my love,” he says. “It’s okay.”

He’s lying.

This situation might be many things for her but it will never be okay.

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alexandra-herman-blog1 · 8 years ago

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Related to the Wish Realm: One || Two || Three || x *chapters not exactly in order

Sunlight spills through the foliage, rich and gold, casting the forest in a dreamy haze. It is a heavy stillness that lies in the forest, occasionally broken by the melodic twittering of birds concealed within the leafy canopy. The late afternoon breeze winds its way through the greenery, rustling leaves as it passes, and dips to where they lay, playfully sweeping a strand of raven hair across her face. She tucks it behind her ear and shifts to find a more comfortable position on the makeshift bed, a pile of twigs, leaves, and bits of foliage that he’s scoured out, covered with a blanket.

“Look there,” he whispers as she slings her arm back across his chest. A bird with deep red plumage darts into view overhead, its black wings spread in flight, fluttering twice before landing on a nearby branch. “Scarlet tanager,” he says with a little smile and purses his lips, letting out a soft chip-burr sound. The little passerine cocks its head, eyeing them on the ground before responding with its distinctive call.

“Songbirds,” she mumbles, shaking her head. She hears quiet laughter rumbling deep in his chest as she snuggles closer to him and rests her head just above his heart, listening to its steady pulse, a comforting thump-thump rhythm beneath her ear.

The laws of the magical world prohibit him from staying in Storybrooke. She’s done extensive research, enlisting the help of Snow, Emma, Belle, even Gold, only for all of them to arrive at the same conclusion. These are rules she can’t circumvent; he must leave. She’d locked herself in her vault, seething and broken and raging. Not just from the pain of the Evil Queen, newly merged back into her, but of her, Regina. Is it retribution for the atrocities she’s committed in the past, or can she fault the unfairness she’s faced her entire life?

Robin came to her in the wee hours of the morning, bearing a request to spend his last day in Storybrooke with her. How could she refuse? If only time would stand still at this very moment. If only just for today, the clock would not strike twelve.

“Robin?”

“Hm?”

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

He looks down at her, his eyes as blue as the sky above them. “I was seven when I mimicked my first bird call.”

“A robin?” she asks, tangling her fingers in his scarf.

“No, though I suppose that would’ve been befitting. It was a cuckoo actually,” he reminisces. “We were leaving Mass – my father, mother, I – and I was coming down the steps of the cathedral and I heard this, plaintive cry. I looked up and saw this bird – this cuckoo with grey feathers and all – perched on one of the bare branches of the tree in front of the church. It wouldn’t stop calling, so I thought, I’ll make it right back. You know, coo-coo, coo-coo,” he mimics softly. “Followed me all the way home.”

“And that’s when you knew you were meant to be nature boy.”

“Only a man with an affinity with feathered friends.”

“Who knows every one of the 724 species of the trees in the forest.”

“I doubt there are even half of that number here, but, I do know that one there’s a redwood, and that’s a cedar. And I think I saw a maple somewhere back where we came from. That’s a deciduous tree.”

“A deciduous tree.”

“Meaning trees that lose their leaves every year, usually during autumn.”

“Geek,” she remarks fondly. “You know, Snow would hire you in a heartbeat. She’s looking for teachers.”

“Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint her. I’m not much for spending my days within four walls and scratching on blackboards. I much prefer spending my time outdoors. With all of this.” He meets her gaze, smiling. “With you,” he says. “You wouldn’t mind sleeping outside in a tent every night, do you? It’ll be you, me. Henry, Roland. What do you say?”

Her lips curve at the corners. “Might be a little tough dragging Henry away from his electronic toys. You know David just gave him the latest PS4 for Christmas.”

“Ah, yes. The computer-thingy with that little black device you fiddle with. I must say, I am rather perplexed by the games of this land. I do not understand the purpose of shooting things on a screen. You would have much more fun—”

“—living as an outlaw?”

“Yes, exactly. The outlaw family. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? We’ll live in tents, raise our kids in the wild—”

“—we’ll be like Tarzan and Jane—”

“Like Tarzan and Jane, whoever those people are,” he continues without missing a beat. “We’ll have our happily ever after.”

“Bathing in the river and using pine cones for money.”

“Bathing in the river and using pine cones for money,” he says, voice softening.

They fall into silence as the descending sun colours the skies with shades of red and orange, signalling the onset of twilight. The scarlet tanager abandons its perch on its old branch, seeking a resting place in the tall cedar tree next to them. It preens its rosy feathers, meticulous in its grooming, and releases high, resonant notes in its melodious voice.

“It sings quite beautifully, doesn’t it?” he comments.

It does, yet as she threads her fingers with his, the thumping of his heart once more filling her ear, she has no doubt the song of the robin is the most beautiful of all.

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alexandra-herman-blog1 · 8 years ago

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Post-its and Paperclips New Years Eve

Only a day late! Woohoo! Happy New Year to all of my fellow Outlaw Queen shippers! I hope this year is a great one for all of you and that you enjoy this little continuation of this fic done for @onceuponanadvent! Cover by @ninzied

The invitation comes by way of a post-it stuck to her desk monitor when she walks into her office Thursday morning. New Years Eve? Be my date? It has a dopey grin crossing Regina’s face as the corners of her mouth tip up. Robin. They’ve been communicating through the little square sticky notes for the last week, one on her desk every morning, slipped into one of her files during an office meeting, there’d even been one stuck to a to-go cup from her favorite coffee shop mid-afternoon yesterday.

Things like; You look gorgeous in that blouse today and How can I focus on Gold with you sitting across from me? to You taste even better than the coffee. Each one leaves her giddy, and she scribbles plenty back to him. Are you trying to charm me, Locksley? and That tie’s working for you today, even It’s a shame there’s no mistletoe around…

It’s entirely inappropriate, to flirt this way during working hours, and a few of their coworkers have begun to whisper about it, about them, but it’s been so long since Regina has felt anything like this bubbling excitement she can’t bring herself to truly care.

“Something catch your eye?”

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alexandra-herman-blog1 · 8 years ago

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vine

Outlaw Queen || Sweater Weather ~~ +cc: piercingxargent +ac: mine

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alexandra-herman-blog1 · 8 years ago

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Down In Yon Forest

Alone in the world though Regina may be, she doesn’t have to spend Yuletide season all by herself.

But she’s chosen to.

Yule morning wakes her with the gentle drizzle of fog, glittery particles drifting in and chilling her cheeks peeking from the furs pulled all the way up to her chin. Her little burrow is cosy if not outright warm, but she can tell it will be crisp and cool outside, just as it’s been the past few days. Today’s going to be a busy day for Regina, she’ll make sure of that—no time to dwell on useless, sentimental nonsense such as the lack of friends and family to burn the Yule log with. Regina slips from beneath the blankets and into the fuzzy vest, grabs two apples and a slice of stale bread from her small and pitifully empty pantry, dons gloves, bow and arrow, and steps outside her rustic abode.

The willow forest gleams in the weak winter sun, wisps and clouds of fog hanging suspended low over the ground, a lazily shifting mass that lends her little nook of the forest a half eerie, half ethereal ambiance. Tiny droplets and crystals of ice float in the scant rays, and perhaps she’d stand in wonder at such a sight if not for the brazen frost pinching her cheeks and creeping beneath her skin the longer she stands still.

Off Regina goes then, bypassing the trigger of the falling log and the pit trap concealed under the cedar tree, never bothering to watch for animal tracks the hard, frozen forest floor won’t be marked with. Her snares yield a single rabbit, and well, it won’t be the first time she goes without substantial dinner—at least that orphaned brother-sister duo new to the village won’t have to go without. They’re already up and about, diligent as ever by the time she sneaks up to their window and coaxes it open enough to deposit the modest catch on the windowsill. They’ll know it’s from her anyway, it’s not the first time she’s contributed to keeping the children fed and watered, but she leaves unseen all the same with just a touch of guilt and regret she knows would only grow with another imminent invitation to share in tonight’s festivities with them.

An invitation she would have to decline, just like she had all the rest before them made by a grateful widow here, a poor and numerous peasant family there. Only yesterday she had some dozen pairs of eyes beg her to stay for the dinner she’d helped secure with the same sack of money that would keep the orphanage above water for another year.

The money had come from the royal tax carriage she’d robbed the day before to buy herself passage out of the kingdom. She’d been planning that particular heist for weeks, her escape from Snow White’s vengeful clutches for months. The orphans needed the money more. Regina will just have to bide her time for just a little longer. Another carriage will come, another opportunity will present itself—but not tonight. Tonight, all the world is going to celebrate.

Little groups of wassailers form in the small marketplace, and Regina watches hidden behind bushes of juniper and holly as they go door to door, singing and drinking spiced wine to the health of friends and neighbours. Love and joy come to you.

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alexandra-herman-blog1 · 8 years ago

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The Hood-Mills Family (♥‿♥)

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alexandra-herman-blog1 · 8 years ago

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How about undercover as lovers or FAKE DATINGGGGG?

Inspired by the movie Just Go With It

“She can’t be as bad as all that,” he whispered, watching as Zelena and her husband rubbed noses on the other side of the table, cringing at the length of which it went on for.

Regina chuckled at his expression, taking a quick glance herself before turning serious once more and assuring him, “Oh, she very much is. Believe me.” She gripped his hand beneath the table with both of her own, ignoring how warm and inviting they were, especially when he placed his free hand atop them all. “She makes being a single mother sound like some sort of disease and I’d rather not have to deal with that with everything else already going on right now.”

They parted briefly to allow the waiter to place down their drink orders, thanking him before they came together again - it felt so easy, being this close to him, allowing him to turn their hands beneath the table and twine their fingers. It was because they were such good friends, that’s why it was. Nothing else - and he asked, “Everything else?”

Regina’s brow furrowed as she nodded and reminded him, “Marian, the kids, this whole being in Hawaii in the first place nonsense.”

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded, cheeks tinting pink because-

“You forgot?”

“No,” he shook his head far more than necessary before taking a deep pull of his drink - one hand still holding hers - and replying, “just, put it on the back burner for tonight.” Then, quite unexpectedly, he squeezed her fingers gently and promised, “you have my full attention tonight, Regina. I’m yours.”

Her stomach flipped at those two words in ways it shouldn’t. He was her best friend, her employer, her confidante and in love with a woman he’d met only a couple of weeks ago. It wouldn’t do to develop damn feelings for him now. It was too late.

“So, ‘Doctor Locksley’,” Zelena pulled their attention from one another in a way that told Regina that she didn’t quite believe Robin was all that good of a plastic surgeon - he was, he was the best in the state and possibly even the country - “if I were to find myself lying on your table,” Regina’s stomach churned at her terrible flirting despite her husband sitting right next to her, “what would you do to me?”

“Nothing.” His answer wasn’t too quick nor was it a lie and Regina found herself stifling a laugh because she could see the grin he was trying to keep back and knew that Zelena was in for it.

“Nothing?” she repeated rather gleefully, “you wouldn’t change anything about me?”

“No,“ he answered simply, pausing for effect as Zelena beamed at her husband and shot Regina a shit-eating grin, before he continued, “the doctor already took too much fat from your arms and your lips are off-balance.”

Regina snorted into her hand as the redhead’s beaming smile fell and she pressed on with, “So, how long have the two of you been married?”

“Five years-”

“Eight years-”

They answered at the same time, both turning to one another wide eyed as Zelena’s gaze turned suspicious. “Which one is it?”

Robin was the first to recover, shaking his head and chuckling, “I’m sorry, I misheard,” he placed his hand atop Regina’s bouncing leg beneath the table, squeezing reassuringly at the limb before excusing, “we’ve been together for eight years, married for five.”

“Not sure if you wanted to marry her for the first three, was it?”

Regina shifted self-consciously in her seat at Zelena’s teasing - but nasty - barb before she found herself looking back to Robin when he shook his head and replied, “Not at all,” and then, “I proposed twice before she finally accepted, stubborn as she is.”

“What held you back?” Adrian asked Regina, seemingly genuinely interested unlike his wife whose gaze held only untrust and a silent challenge to top the life she had.

The brunette looked from the man opposite to the one beside her, unable to keep herself from smiling warmly at him. He was playing the part of devoted husband well, staring at her with an adoration she almost believed herself whilst his thumb moved comfortingly over her leg beneath the table. “I was too afraid, I guess.” It wasn’t a lie, just a distortion of the truth for it was the very reason she hadn’t ever initiated anything between herself and Robin in the first place, “I was scared that we’d ruin what we had and losing him,” she shook her head and laughed softly, “that was never going to be an option.”

Wonderfully warm blue eyes crinkled in the corners as her heart fluttered in her chest when he lifted his free hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’d never lose me,” he told her on a soft breath of laughter, as though the very idea was ridiculous, “ever.”

“Promise?”

His answer was cut short when Zelena suddenly turned to her husband and began, “Your strength, your heart and your mind.”

Both Robin and Regina turned to look at the pair, the bubble they’d been in broken as they looked on in confusion whilst Adrian answered, “Your determination, your fire, your passion.”

Regina’s mouth had parted slightly in confused surprise as she looked between the two, Robin just as dumbstruck beside her.

“Your silky hair, your strong arms and your tight arse.”

Adrian flushed at the last comment but took up their exchange once more with, “Your white smile, your vivid green eyes and your perky breasts.”

Regina balked at that, turning to Robin and mirroring his bemused smile before the redhead explained, “It’s just one of our little quirks,” she grinned smugly, “we tell each other three of our favourite things about the other person. You two should try it.”

Regina laughed, waving her off as she replied, “Oh no, it’s-”

“It’s okay,” Zelena’s smirk only widened, “not everyone can do it.”

“Oh we’ll do it alright,” Robin spoke up, levelling the woman opposite with a look of equal challenge before turning to Regina and nodding, grabbing her hands in his own and softening as he asked, “you wanna start?”

“Can’t think of anything, Robin?” Zelena laughed, her tone just shy of cruel as Regina shifted subtly once more in her seat, only settling when his fingers squeezed at hers comfortingly once again.

He shook his head, laughing almost pityingly at Zelena before turning to Regina and joking, “I guess I’ll go then.” She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes, still a little put out by the subtly vicious woman opposite and she knew he could see it, felt his concern in the hand that swept back her hair once more before he began. “I don’t even know where to start with you,” he laughed softly, his hand falling from her cheek to grab her own again. “You’re my best friend and my greatest confidant. I can tell you anything, you know everything about me. I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it, I love your heart and how big it is even if you don’t let everyone see. I love how good of a mother you are without even trying to be,” she blushed, dropping her gaze to their hands but stopped from looking away completely when he lifted a finger to tilt her face back up to his, not allowing her to get away. “You’re so special, Regina and you don’t even know it.”

Her blush only intensified as her throat tightened and she fought back the tears stinging at her eyes, completely unable to look away from him as his words wrapped around her heart like a soothing balm.

“That was okay,” Zelena interrupted the moment once more with a look of boredom before she looked to her former schoolmate and instructed, “your turn, Regina.”

The brunette, still a little stunned, by Robin’s words, looked wide-eyed from Robin to Zelena and back again.

“It’s okay,” he assured her with a warm smile, you don’t have to-”

“I love your humour,” she began before she was able to talk herself out of it, eyes closing for a moment to gather the courage before opening them once more and looking at him properly. If this was the only change she was going to get in telling just how she felt for him - save for the part where she believed she was actually falling for him if not already completely in love with him - then she was going to take it with both hands. “I love how you can make me laugh even on the days I want to do anything but.” He grinned with her, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of her hands as he turned more fully to her, ignoring the other two watching from across the table, “I love that I can always smell you in the surgery after a consultation and how tender you are with terrified patients. I love how good you are with the kids.”

“That’s because I love them,” he assured her, still mindful of the two who believed them to be both Regina’s and his, “with all of my heart,” and then, just to make her laugh, “even if they are little terrors.”

It worked, she laughed wetly, shaking her head at him before continuing, “I love how you always show up for me and for them,” there had been so many times that Daniel had disappointed the children or called her to needlessly complain that they’d been misbehaving whilst with him and suggest that she be a better mother and Robin had been there for all of them to comfort her and cuss her idiotic ex out before he’d take them all out for ice cream and have them laughing away the day’s hurt, “and you’ve never made me feel small, in any way whatsoever.”

“You’re kind hearted and sweet and wonderfully protective and I’ve always felt safe with you. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way with anyone else,” she shook her head, “ever.”

“Well, good,” he replied softly, readjusting their hands so that he could twine their fingers together, “you’re always safe with me, Regina.”

“Okay, this isn’t a vow renewal,” Zelena laughed off the moment, pulling their attention as she began standing from the table and grabbing at her husband’s hand, pulling him from his seat, “let’s go dance.”

“Oh, I-” Regina began, ready to excuse them with palms raised but was stopped when Robin’s fingers circled her wrist.

He was grinning at her when she turned her gaze upon him, eyes kind and teasing as he raised a suggestive eyebrow that she found herself sighing internally at because she knew that look and she knew exactly what he was thinking. She also knew that he was as equally stubborn as she so, after a rather large mouthful of her cocktail, Regina found herself rolling her eyes and allowing Robin to pull her up and onto the dance floor, secretly excited at the excuse to be even closer to him for a little while longer.

“Did you see her face?”

Her stomach was hurting with how much she’d laughed in the last couple of hours, her fingers curling around the arm Robin had around her waist and supporting her as they both bent over laughing, swaying tipsily in the hallway. “She was livid!”

“I thought she was turning green at one point,” Robin shook his head, “I hadn’t even realised we were in that competition.”

“Until we won you mean?” she levelled him with an expression of equal surprise, laughing when he started up again, his arm tightening around her waist. It felt nice, being held by him like this and, with the celebratory shots and champagne they’d been gifted and subsequently supped, she found herself uncaring that she was stroking her hand over his bicep and pressing tighter against him, eyelashes fluttering in a way that she wanted to be seen as flirtatious despite the fact that the only reason they’d gotten this far was for him to cover the terrible lie he’d told Marian in the first place.

He chuckled lowly, straightening up and looking down at her as he brought his other hand up to grip her hip and sway them teasingly. “We were very good,” she hummed her agreement, smiling up at him like a fool, “I didn’t know you could dance like that, Regina Mills.”

“That’s because you’ve never taken me dancing, Mr Locksley.”

He laughed again, his palms stroking slowly over her sides now as she leaned even further into him with both hands gripping his biceps. His head dropped a little, their faces coming closer together as he whispered, “I believe I’ve realised the error of my ways tonight.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest at his closeness and she could’ve kicked herself when she muttered a breathy, “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered back, eyes on her lips as he drew even closer to her, those hands gripping at the material of her dress, “but I really want to kiss you.”

Her heart practically stopped at that as her fingers gripped at his shirt in return and her head tilted up a little more. She was so very hungry for him. “I’m not stopping yo-”

“Mom?”

They sprung apart at the sound of Henry’s voice, finding the boy looking bright eyed and in no way sleepy as he looked between the two of them. “Henry, what are you still doing up?” And where’s your sister?”

“She fell asleep an hour ago watching TV with the babysitter,” he explained briefly before narrowing his eyes suspiciously and asking, “what are you guys doing?”

Robin recovered first, answering, “A gentleman always walks a lady to her room, Henry,” he grinned, “remember that when you’re older.”

Her son grinned and nodded before looking to Regina and asking, “Can we cuddle on the balcony for a little bit before bed?” and then, as though he needed an excuse for such a request, he added, “I want to see if I can spot any dolphins in the ocean.”

Robin chuckled beside her, his palm settling at the base of her spine as she smiled adoringly at her boy and nodded, “Of course we can, my darling.”

Henry’s eyes lit up as he grinned and looked back to Robin, asking, “Do you wanna come to? We have a really good view.”

“Maybe tomorrow night, my boy,” Robin excused himself, “I’m sure your mother would appreciate a little time with her favourite man tonight.” And then, because he couldn’t help but tease, he amended, “well, her other favourite man,” before winking at her and leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her cheek, releasing a shuddered breath into her hair that told her his little exchange with Henry hadn’t altered how affected their almost kiss had him.

She clutched at his wrist, a silent conversation passing between them before she managed a smile when he pulled back and watched him make his way back down the corridor after wishing Henry goodnight. She didn’t linger long however, not when her son was grabbing her wrist and tugging her excitedly into their hotel room to spend an hour or so cuddling with her.

Later though, when he was asleep and she was left to nothing but her thoughts, she was sure she’d drive herself close to madness wondering what the hell had happened tonight and what tomorrow would bring.

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alexandra-herman-blog1 · 8 years ago

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Need help finding a fic please!

I’ve searched everywhere and I can’t find this fic.

It’s an OQ Teacher AU where Regina is a math teacher I believe and Robin is an english teacher? Most likely a one-shot?

Any help is great! Thank you!

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alexandra-herman-blog1 · 8 years ago

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Regina Mills is a good shot, a brilliant rider, but she wasn’t brought up to have to hunt for her meals, nor to evade those who mean her harm. They gave her lessons in dance, in languages, in the arts, but nobody thought to give royals lessons in surviving in the forest. If she is to live, she will need to know where the game is and learn to cover her tracks well. As of now, she is no self-sufficient forest-dweller, only a pitiful whelp of a former princess.

It is dark with no light to guide her path, and she feels more than sees her way on the uneven terrain, occasionally stumbling and once sliding down a steep slope that ended with one badly banged up shoulder. She ducks beneath a low branch, the tree’s bark cracked and rough under her palms, ignoring the painful protest of her shoulder. She would not stop now. If she did, she would be tempted to give up altogether. She would sit in her misery and allow the darkness to swallow her whole, to mourn her losses. She would have no hope for a future, and if she has no hope, what does she have left?

The faintest glimmer of firelight beyond the thick cover of leaves rekindles her dwindling spark of energy. She ventures closer, cautiously. It is unwise to approach an unfamiliar camp – that much she knows – but the grumbling emptiness of her stomach drowns out the tiny warning voice at the back of her mind, particularly when she catches the delicious scent of meat cooking over a fire.

She may not be able to get her hands on that luxury, but anything that she can cram into her mouth, even a hunk of stale bread, would be enough. The fact that she is still able to stay on her feet with nothing but handfuls of sour red berries she’d pulled off wayfaring trees the day before is nothing short of a miracle. It’s not what one expects as typical royal fare, but it is perhaps suited for the princess on the run, a criminal with no food to fill her stomach and no place to lay her head.

Shadowy figures linger around the fire, conversing in boisterous voices with the occasional laughter breaking through the night. She watches the strangers interact with clear affection and warmness in their gestures, and feels a pang of longing. Her heart yearns for her father, the man who governed an entire kingdom yet always had time for his daughter. Tears come unbidden to her eyes, and she brushes them away. There is a time for grieving, but that time is not now.

In the darkness, she waits, with loneliness and hunger as her companions. Just a little while longer, she tells herself even as she grows stiff with cold hiding amidst the shrubs. A little while longer, and she’ll have something to fill her stomach. Perhaps she may even come across a flask of wine to keep the growing winter’s chill at bay.

She pulls her knees closer to her chest, wincing at the twinge of pain shooting through her shoulder, and waits for the deeper darkness to descend upon them.

Soon enough, conversation ceases, the men disperse to their respective tents, and the fire dies out, leaving behind glowing embers and the lingering smell of smouldering wood cutting through the clean, cool air. She creeps from her temporary hideout in the thicket, on hands and knees, awkwardly maneuvering her way through the mass of stones, pebbles, and twigs embedded in grassy soil. Her cloak catches on a bramble, jerking her back, and she ducks down to the ground. She tugs desperately at the fabric, and when it finally gives way, she remains where she is, crouched low to the ground, heart racing. When the cicadas sing undisturbed and no one bursts through the undergrowth, she takes a deep breath to quiet the galloping pulse in her ears and carries on.

Under the canopy of stars, with forest life magnified by the darkness of the still night, fear tussles with the need for sustenance, losing out by a slight margin. Her feet carry her to the edge of the camp, where blinded by the blackness of night, with senses dulled by a lack of nourishment and mind exhausted by constant apprehension, she stumbles onto a snare. With a barely-held back cry, she scurries back, only to find it too late to escape, and she is held captive in a net trap dangling mid-air.

She pulls and yanks at the ropes until the skin of her palms is rubbed raw, and blood is sticky on her hands. She knows, even as she scrabbles like a rat seeking escape from a rapidly filling hole, there is no way out. Not unless she has possession of a knife or anything with a sharp edge. Rocks would allow her a chance of getaway, but even those are far out of her reach now.

This is not meant to be her fate. She will not be sold like common property for a handful of gold coins, nor will she allow herself to be delivered quietly to her stepmother. The mere contemplation of the consequences causes her to attack the roped prison with a renewed frenzy. She strains against the twisted cords like a woman half-crazed, making little to no progress, yet anything is better than languishing like a damsel in distress.

As the night wears on, she falls back on her haunches, hands in agony from the friction burns. She clenches them into fists, blood seeping between fingers, and tucks them into her sides. She will not escape tonight, but tomorrow, when the men wake, she will have a better chance at getting away. Who knows, maybe one of these men will have a kind heart and take pity on her.

After all, if she has not hope, what else does she have?

Robin awakens to a yell. He blinks, all traces of sleep vanishing within seconds, as the same voice hollers again. Will Stutely, he recognizes with a trace of irritation. It has to be too early in the morning to be up, especially since there isn’t a job scheduled for the day until late that evening. Grousing under his breath, he pushes aside the flap of his tent to find the day barely light, the glimmers of grey colouring the sky, the dawn chorus of birds just beginning, and Will clutching the arm of a cloaked figure, one of slight stature with features partially hidden by a hood, with Little John and Much the Miller’s Son standing by.

He strides towards them, eyeing the party of four. “There better be a good reason for the ruckus this early in the morning,” he says. “I had no need to be up until—”

“We caught a thief!” Much exclaims, his young face glowing. “Bold one, he is.”

“Or stupid,” Will mutters darkly.

“We don’t know he’s a thief for sure,” Little John clarifies, tone dubious. “We didn’t actually catch him stealing anything. Woke up this morning to find the lad up in the rope trap, quiet as a mouse.”

Robin looks at him sharply. “Will Scarlet and Arthur were on patrol last night and heard nothing?”

“Not a peek,” comes the cocky answer as the two men in question appear, joining them near the tents. “But we did find some terribly obvious tracks on our way back here,” continues Will Scarlet, the one who’d responded. “If the lad meant to steal, he’s done a pretty horrific job of it, I’d say. He’s gotten nothing and left tracks a babe in arms could follow.”

Robin studies the hooded intruder, whose tip of his head barely reaches the height of Much, their youngest and smallest of the Merry Men. For the first time since setting eyes on the captive, he notices the trembling of the slight frame and the stains on the worn-out fabric of the tanned cloak, some of them he suspects aren’t just grass or soil stains either. He stares at the figure intently, mind churning. If he could just get a glimpse of the lad’s full face, perhaps he could get a better sense of whether or not to keep him or best to send him on his way.

“So what do you think we should do with him, Robin?” Someone asks – Little John, he thinks – only for another to reply, “Why, throw him back out, of course. He could be a spy for all we know.”

“He don’t look like a spy. He looks lost.”

“Haven’t you learnt that looks can be deceiving, Much?”

“Exactly. You’re going to get killed someday with that trusting nature of yours.”

“Don’t mean we oughta be nasty.”

“I’ll be nasty all I want if that means saving our skin, boy.”

“Right, be quiet now,” Will Stutely interrupts. “Why not ask this fellow what’s he doing in our camp? Maybe then we can get some answers and decide whether or not we should keep him. I for one vote that we should toss him back wherever he came from. And whereabouts do you come from?” he asks in a brusque manner.

They wait expectantly, and when they receive no answer, the dark-haired man gives the captive a rough shake by the arm. The alleged thief lets out a whimper, and Robin’s heart skips a beat.

Surely they couldn’t have been mistaken.

The crowd of men goes silent as if all have reached the same conclusion, each staring at the other with a wide-eyed gaze. Will Stutely releases his grip on the captive, as quick as if he’d been burned by the contact.

“Wait,” Much begins, confused. “It don’t sound like—”

“Shut up, boy.”

Robin steps in front of the trembling figure. He can see how his men, even he, could have mistaken their captive as a lad. Even now he is undecided. The cloak reveals little, and the hood over a bent head shows not much more. A smooth chin much like a lady’s, that’s for sure, and dry, chapped lips.

That tells him nothing.

“Oh, it’s definitely gotta be—”

“Will you shut up, Much?”

He pulls on the hood, carefully, and he sees hair as black as night, twisted in a braid disappearing somewhere within the cloak. The hood falls free, and he steps back, dumbfounded. Brown eyes return his stare, and though there is a flicker of fear in her gaze, she raises her chin, almost defiantly, pressing away the tremble in her lips.

“Hey, I know of her. I know her face,” Much says eagerly in the background. “Isn’t that—”

“The princess,” someone whispers.

“Wanted for crimes against the Queen,” another adds.

And so it is indeed.

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