AN: Sometimes self-realization leads to pain. My first entry for @bisexualreginamillsweek Day 1. Regina realizes she’s bisexual. FFNet
Her neck was intriguing: the slender line of it, the way her veins twitched with the quickening of her pulse, the smell of her skin and how soft it was under her fingertips as she squeezed harder. Would she taste as good as she smelled? The girl’s gasping breaths fell softy on her ear, her first startled intake like music. The sweet song of a siren. The allure of the forbidden. Mother would have been so ashamed. A lady does not behave this way, and certainly not a queen.
She can’t even remember her name anymore, just another peasant that crossed her path. A lowly street rat. But she remembers her eyes, the way they danced with mirth. While the rest of the village cowered at the arrival of the queen, she was unfazed. She stood tall, her smirking eyes locked on Regina, a glass of cider outstretched in her delicate hands, and a challenge in the tilt of her head. Never had a subject been so bold.
It had been months since the last sighting of Snow, months of searching with no reward, months of returning to the cold walls of her castle empty-handed. Her patience was at an all-time low. She was exhausted. She needed a distraction, so if the peasant wanted to play games, well, the queen knew she could give as good as she got.
The cider was sweet, but her tongue was sweeter - spiced with cinnamon and bourbon, laced with the poison of promise. It’s been over thirty years, but she remembers the warmth of her mouth and the way her breath felt on her face. She can still remember the soft murmuring sounds of the villagers in the distance, the panic that would linger in the air until she would return to her castle, replacing panic with grief. She shouldn’t have been there. She wasn’t supposed to stay. But warm cider and soft curves were too enticing to resist.
She doesn’t recall how it happened, when they went from drinking together to pressed against each other. She thinks the peasant moved first, ever bold and unafraid. She was rambling on about village’s crops, her honeyed voice drawing Regina nearer and nearer. At some point, she must have realized her audience wasn’t listening, too distracted by the way her silky curls bounced with every animated gesture. Too distracted by the dewy glow of her skin in the light of the furnace.
The room smelled of cedar and dust, of rusted hinges and bitter ale. It was not a room befitting of a queen, but the lavender smell of her skin was enough to make Regina forget her status. She was soft in a way Regina had never experienced. She still thinks of her, of the silkiness of dusty auburn locks and the sweet apple smell of her breath. She remembers her laugh in the winter, when the fireplace warms her skin and the room smells like cinnamon. She thinks of biting kisses and stinging regret, of husky words of seduction whispered in her ear.
If she closes her eyes, Regina can still hear the drumming of her pulse, the excitement she felt at the thrill of the illicit. She can still feel her soft body pressed against her, firm but pliant, and the warm, wet feel of her blood as it dripped from her fingers, long nails leaving behind deep crescent marks on perfect skin. She gasped for breath as she struggled against a vice-like grip. Regina savored the change in her eyes when she realized the queen was no longer playing her game - the cloud of lust replaced by the clarity of panic. Do you want me? She had whispered. Never ask a question you don’t want answered.
She remembers her shame the most, the clawing cloying panic of realization. Who did this peasant think she was, to dare to touch the queen? It was a rouse after all, wasn’t it? A way to pass the time, to chase away boredom. A game of cat and mouse with a challenging opponent. Do you want me? She asked as if a lady of Regina’s station could ever stoop so low. She could have had any man she chose to warm her bed. To suggest that a queen would sully herself in such a manner was inexcusable. Her mother didn’t raise a fool. The price of this indiscretion must be high.
She never told anyone about the peasant. She’s never told anyone how alive she made her feel, how her kisses felt like freedom. She thought it was a fluke, a boredom-induce thrilled. She couldn’t let people remember. She wanted to forget, to erase every trace of this woman from the Earth, to bury her hatred so deep inside, it would never be recovered. She can still hear the sounds: the thud of the girl’s body falling to the ground, the shrieking of villagers when Regina walked out with blood on her hands, the crackling roaring fire of the village being burned to the ground. No one could ever know.
AN: This is what happens when you make a joke on Twitter that if Regina killed everyone she was attracted to, there would be no survivors. And because no one hates Regina Mills like Regina Mills hates herself. Sometimes she just takes it out on others. Have some pain. Special thanks to @the-notsoevil-queen, @bigina-mills, and @x-wishes-on-fallen-stars-x for the encouragement and the sounding board. Extra thanks to Sarah (bigina-mills) for giving this little fic a look over. It’s very out of my comfort zone, but it was kind of therapeutic to write. I can definitely relate to a little self-hatred over my sexuality. I hope you love it! Go easy on me please!
Milk, eggs, lip balm, the damn poster board her wonderful son needs tomorrow that he forgot to mention until this morning at breakfast. Yes. That’s it. Right? Still, it feels like something is missing. Where is that list? Ah, yes. Milk, eggs, lip balm, poster board… shit. Glue. Henry needs glue for his science project. Regina’s heels click as she turns around and marches hurriedly to the back of the supermarket. She’s cursing the layout of this store for keeping the school supplies on the back two aisles almost as much as she’s cursing the long day that kept her at the office later than usual. She really should have changed before this. These are heels made for sitting in an office, not walking on concrete floors and standing in long lines. But, her son has homework to do and a bedtime to meet, so she’ll bear the pain and before bed, she’ll have a nice, long, calm talk with her 8-year old about procrastination. Then, she’ll pour a glass of wine from this lovely cabernet sitting in the cart and throw these murderous heels in the trash. She’s already dreading waiting in line as she walks back to the front. There are never enough cashiers.
She’s almost made it to the front and is walking straight to the lit up number 3 and the cashier with the shortest line when a man comes bumbling in front of her, cutting her off. He’s not paying attention, is speaking rapidly into the phone pressed to his shoulder and dropping items on the ground from the pile haphazardly thrown in his arms. She’s so stunned by the nerve of this man, that she’s speechless for a moment, staring wide-eyed at his back as her jaw drops in indignation. She regains her voice with an irritated “excuse me” as he piles his items onto the belt and continues his phone conversation without noticing her.
She catches bit and pieces of his call, knows he’s talking to a woman named Belle. Hears the English lilt of his voice as he asks “did you try the airplane thing?” and the obvious frustration at whatever her answer must be. And really, this is ridiculous. She tries to get his attention again – Regina Mills has never been one to back down – with a louder “Excuse me!” and this time he turns around, flustered, confused, and gorgeous. Her stance falters before she takes a moment to find her composure and stare him down. She is not going to be distracted by blue eyes and a pretty face.
It’s clear she’s caught him off guard. He frowns at her a moment before quickly asking the woman on the other end of his call – probably his wife, get it together, Regina – to hold on a moment before he addresses her with a polite but perplexed “May I help you?” She takes a deep breath and sends up a prayer to whatever higher being may be listening that she doesn’t look as flushed as she feels. She’ll blame the pink that colors her cheeks on her ire rather than admit to the unexpected and sudden wave of attraction she feels for this rude stranger. With her exhale, she finds the sass she’s known for and tosses it at him with a “Yes. You can help me by getting off the damn phone and paying attention to what’s going on around you. You cut me off.” He flushes red and blinks at her in stunned silence before turning away and muttering into the phone “Belle, I’ll call you back. Tell him to hold on, daddy will be home soon.” As he speaks, she looks at the belt in front of her. Children’s ibuprofen, tissues, pedialyte, a little stuffed monkey… oh. Oh. Suddenly she knows why he was so distracted, and she feels like an ass.
As he turns around to face her again, she gets a better look at him. He looks wrecked. He has all the sure signs of an exhausted parent, from the worry lines that shadow his face to the bags under kind blue eyes. In a moment, she goes from simmering irritation to sympathy. She’s been there. The sleepless nights with a warm, fevered little body curled up next to you. The worry that comes with every temperature spike and hacking, chest-rattling cough. The absolute helpless desperation of watching your child suffer and knowing all you can do is wait. Wait and watch and do everything you can to make him comfortable. So you hover and you provide warm blankets and whispered words of love and butterfly kisses, and still your heart aches at every sniffle.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t…”
“How old is he?”
He’s barely begun to utter an apology when she cuts him off, and it’s clear she’s caught him off guard again.
When he only squints at her in confusion, she repeats herself, “Your son. How old is he?”
He stammers for a moment, trying to figure out why the beautiful stranger before him is no longer scowling.
“Um… four. Roland is four.”
Her eyes warm at that as a small smile grows on her face and Robin feels his heart stutter at the sight. Really, how did he not notice her before? He’s cursing his distraction as he gazes into deep brown eyes. What an excellent first impression to make. Way to go Robin, you look like an absolute git.
He worries for a moment that he said that last bit out loud as she lets out a barely audible chuckle. But as he focuses on her now instead of internally chastising himself, she speaks again and he’s lost to her velvety voice.
“Ah, I remember that age well.” She says with fondness.
And, oh. She’s a mother. Well, of course she is. It’s not likely that someone so stunning would be single. He’s sure she must have a doting husband at home currently running around after her own children.
The thought gives him pause. Why should he care so much about the relationship status of a perfect stranger? But perfect is the operative word isn’t it? He’s not sure he’s had this kind of reaction to another woman since his wife passed two years ago. But he’s enchanted. Everything about her is lovely, from the little spark of fire in her eyes that he caught a glimpse of a moment ago to her dark flowing hair that looks as soft as silk and has his hands twitching with the thought of running his fingers through it. Full lips hide straight white teeth that he catches a glimpse of as she reveals a nervous smile and shit. He’s staring at her. Snap out of it, Robin, before she thinks you’re also crazy.
The moment is broken when they both turn their heads at the sound of the cashier calling for a price check. It appears that the little old lady in front of him is going to be holding up the line for a bit. He hears the woman beside him groan and mutter something about wanting to light the lady’s coupon book on fire, and yes. He likes this woman, sass and all.
He chuckles and her eyes go wide. Caught. “I have a feeling neither of us are rushing off to our sons anytime soon.”
He deflates at that and looks dejectedly to the collection of items he’s piled onto the still unmoving belt. With one comment, their little bubble of levity has burst and she’s regretting her words instantly.
“He’ll be fine. I know it hurts to watch them hurt, but kids are resilient. You’ll be chasing after him again in no time.”
She’s not sure why she feels the need to comfort this stranger. Perhaps it’s the kindred feeling of another parent lovingly nurturing their child. Perhaps, it’s just the way his dimples melt her a little as they peek out with his weak smile. Either way, she’s glad to see his smile, even if it’s small.
“Rationally I know that. I know that the flu is only temporary” He sighs out a weary breath and looks heavenward. “I guess this is all a bit new. So much has changed lately. And this was so much easier before. My wife and I had a system. We figured it out together and now she’s gone and I’m in a new city with a child that adjusted to the move and the new daycare by getting sick for the first time in years. And of course the bloody facility didn’t call me to let me know he was poorly. So I arrived yesterday after work to a feverish and grumpy toddler that won’t eat and won’t sleep without his favorite toy that I’m fairly certain was lost in transit. I’m still living out of boxes and I’m sure my son is infecting my sister with his virus as we speak….”
He’s rambling. He knows he is. But he just can’t seem to stop. That is until she cuts him off with a soft “Hey” as she gently grasps his arm. If she’s bothered by his little outburst, she doesn’t show it, just holds on to his arm for a moment longer and looks at him with so much sympathy that he has to tell his tired brain not to cry in front of this kind stranger.
She takes a deep breath, and it reminds him to do the same. God, he’s exhausted. He’s suddenly acutely aware of what a mess he must appear to be. She’s probably counting down the minutes until she can be free of him.
She doesn’t let him stew in his embarrassment for long. She smiles gently at him and removes her hand from his arm. He misses the warmth instantly.
“Parenting alone is hard. No parent is perfect. All you can do is love them and do your best, something you’re clearly doing. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
There’s something in the way she says it. A sort of genuine understanding. But the moment is gone before he can question it as the belt holding his items suddenly moves, startling him. It appears the woman in front of him has finally finished.
He looks to her and remembers what started their conversation with a burst of embarrassment.
“Would you like to go first? I did cut in front of you, after all.”
She scoffs at the very idea, “nonsense. Your son’s medicine is more important than this.”
He begins to argue with her but she cuts him off with a glare that turns into a satisfied smirk when he rolls his eyes in amusement and gives up. She thinks she catches him mumble something along the lines of stubborn woman as he turns to greet the cashier politely. And if she happens to glance appreciatively at his form as he does, well, she’s only human.
This time, he’s the one with a smirk as she glances up to see him looking at her. And ok, that wasn’t very subtle, was it? But as her cheeks heat, he simply returns the favor as he gives her a slow once over that makes her want to squirm followed by a wink that makes her scoff and roll her eyes to hide her embarrassment.
“Don’t be so smug.”
He chuckles at that and bites that tempting bottom lip to hide his smile.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He’s playing at innocent, and good god almighty, this man is adorable.
Before she can answer him, the cashier is calling out his total and it appears their moment is over. He pays her and takes his few bags as he glances back at Regina. There’s a hesitation in his eyes that she feels echoed in herself. But he has a sick little boy at home and she needs to get home to Henry to cook him dinner and help him with whatever this silly poster board is set to become.
He smiles warmly at her one more time and tells her, “It was nice to meet you.” He takes a deep breath and adds a sincere “And thank you. You were really very kind to the jerk that stole your spot. I’m sorry I talked your ear off.”
She shakes her head and tells him with a smile, “Just don’t let it happen again, thief.”
His chuckle is rich and full and warms her to her toes as he tells her “Yes, ma’am.”
But still, “Don’t call me ma’am.”
“Ah yes of course, your majesty.”
He completes his ridiculous statement with a dramatic flourish of a bow, and she can’t help but to laugh.
“Better.”
He smiles at her one last time and tells her goodbye before reluctantly turning to leave.
He’s made it a whole three steps from her when she shouts “Wait!” making him turn back to her as the people behind her grumble about her holding up the line. She gathers her nerve and walks to him with all the air of confidence she can muster.
He looks at her questioningly as she pulls a card and a pen from the purse that rests over her shoulder. She jots a few things down on the back and hands it to him.
“Here. If you’re looking for a better nursery, one that will actually call you when your child is sick, Granny’s is the best in town. It’s where I took my son when he was younger. That’s her number on the back as well as my cell number. It’s a hard place to get into, but if you use my name, it’ll help. I have a bit of pull around here. And if she still won’t let Roland in, call me.”
He turns the card over to read the front. Regina Mills. Storybrooke Mayor. And well, he supposes he wasn’t all that far off when he jokingly called her your majesty. Small town royalty, it would appear.
“Regina”
He utters her name with such reverence that she can’t look away from him.
“I like it. It suits you. I’m Robin, by the way. Robin Locksley.”
Regina tamps down her blush at his compliment as she reaches for his outstretched hand and shakes it in greeting.
He holds on for a moment as warmth floods them both before he hesitantly releases her to look at the card again.
“Thank you. This means a lot.”
“It’s nothing, really.”
“It’s so much more than nothing.”
“Go. Your son is waiting.”
He sighs before he nods and thanks her again then bids his final goodbye. That night she goes to bed thinking of blue eyes and his warm voice. He falls asleep to the snores of his little man and the memory of her smile.
Author’s Note: Hey, lovelies. Thanks for reading! This is my first fic so I hope it’s not too terrible. I haven’t written much in years. Special thanks to Clare @its-a-story-of-love for looking over this for me and convincing me to publish. I’m going to hide now. Please be gentle! :)
Trigger warnings for mentions of car accidents and cancer
He doesn’t call her.
He wants to - pulls the card smudged in her elegant script out of his wallet so many times that he’s surprised it hasn’t fallen apart yet. His fingers hover over the screen of his phone daily, itching to type in her number. But really, what would he say? Hasn’t he made a fool out of himself enough with this woman? She was lovely and kind and humored him far more than he deserved after his rude interruption into her life. And he can’t stop thinking of her.
He thinks of her in the quiet moments of his days, as Roland sleeps off his fever and Robin unpacks boxes. He thinks of her as he runs his fingers through the messy curls of his toddler’s hair, and he wonders after her own son. Is she reading him a bedtime story as he reads to Roland? Does she sing her child to sleep with that lovely warm voice of hers? Will she watch him drift off before she curls up in her bed with a good book and a glass of wine from the bottle he spotted in her cart?
Does she think of him as he thinks of her?
He tries to focus on other things, so he busies himself. He’s certainly not lacking in things to do. Every day, this new house begins to feel a little more like home, as boxes finally empty and the walls are adorned with family photos and the messy, treasured Crayola creations of his child. They’re adjusting, him and his boy, settling into a new routine. Roland finally got past that nasty virus and has returned to his normal level of world-spinning, eardrum-shattering exuberance. He’s come home from daycare the last two days carting stacks of finger-painted masterpieces and chattering on and on about his new friends. It’s adorable and his heart melts at every giggle.
Regina was right. All it took was mentioning her name and suddenly there was a spot for his boy at Granny’s. Though he expects that the “pull” she claimed to have with the woman he now knows is Eugenia Lucas has less to do with Regina’s status as mayor and more to do with the warmth in Eugenia’s voice as she speaks of her. There’s a story there, and as it seems to be with all things related to Regina, he wants to know what that story is. He wants to know her.
As luck would have it, after a week of daydreaming about her, he finally sees her again. It’s so unexpected that he squints his eyes shut for a moment thinking he must still be fantasizing. But when he opens his eyes, she’s there, real and only a few feet away. And of course she is. It’s a small town. It’s really not so unusual that they would bump into each other, or rather that he would catch a glimpse of her dark tresses from across the playground. He’s suddenly very glad that Roland asked to go to the park last night as he tucked him in after bedtime cuddles.
She hasn’t seen him yet. She’s perched regally upon a bench, eyes intent on the young boy that’s running towards her. Her son. He’s older than Roland - 7, maybe 8 years old. He’s talking animatedly to her as she adjusts the warm scarf around his neck and tenderly wipes a smudge of dirt off of his nose. He squirms at the gesture, embarrassed, and she pokes at his side until he lets out a ringing peal of laughter. And she’s just…stunning. She’s smiling – beaming really – with all of the pride of a mother and she just looks so soft and care-free that he can’t look away.
He feels the swing and pull of Roland’s hand as he practically drags Robin along, eager to run to the swings. “Papa, look!” The gasping excitement of his boy pulls him out of his thoughts and steers his attention away from Regina and in the direction of an outstretched little finger.
Well, that’s a sight to behold. A rather elaborate little castle stands in the middle of the play area, brightly colored and full of all manner of twisting, turning parts. No wonder Roland is so excited. “It looks just like the castle in my book!”
“Yes, my boy. I suppose it does. Ready to go defend the castle, good sir?”
Roland nods with all the seriousness of a four-year old playing pretend and Robin does everything he can to hide his smirk. “Lead the way. Where shall we go first?”
Roland hums and wiggles his fingers against his chin, “can I slide?”
“I think that’s a fine idea, Sir Roland.”
Just as Robin reaches his hand again to bring him to the slides, Roland stops him, “Papa, no. I can go by myself.” And his heart sinks.
“Are you sure, son?” Robin always waits near the bottom of the slide, ready to catch his boy if he falls. But it appears his little man has other ideas today.
“Yeah, Papa. I can do it. I can.” He’s so brave, his little boy. He’s handled the move far better than Robin could have hoped for, and now he’s ready for a little independence. Robin’s chest fills with pride as his heart fills with an unshakable sense of loss. His baby is growing up, and he has a sudden desire to freeze time. But time continues and it’s him that’s frozen as he watches Roland run off onto the soft mulch covered ground and right towards the slides.
He’s snapped out of his moment of melancholy by a voice, her voice. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
His grin is instant as he turns to face her and gives her a small bow in jest, “Good afternoon, your majesty.”
He’s enraptured by the roll of her eyes, “Hello, thief. Here to run me over again?”
“Hmm the thought hadn’t crossed my mind but now that you mention it…” her amused scoff cuts him off and he bats his eyes playfully, “Actually, if I promise to behave myself, would you consider sharing your bench with this lowly peasant?”
She hums in consideration and makes him wait just to watch him squirm. But she smirks at him and tucks in the corners of the blanket he’s only just noticing covers her lap, eyeing the space next to her in silent permission. He sits slowly, careful not to crowd her. It’s then that he gets a better look at her.
Gone are the high heels and dark make-up from last week – replaced by warm, wool-lined boots and a softer looking Regina. The tailored pantsuit has been traded for a pair of equally enticing jeans and a warm knit sweater. Her hair flows in soft waves, framing her lovely face and damn he’s captivated by this woman.
The clearing of her throat alerts him to the fact that he’s been staring. He can feel the heat that spreads to his face as his eyes snap up to lock onto hers. And oh, she’s amused, holding back laughter as she raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him.
He remembers her words from last week and directs them back to her with a grumbled “Don’t look so smug.” She hmms at him playfully before she turns her attention back to the park in front of her and the little boy swinging from the monkey bars.
“Papa, look.”
Roland’s voice brings his attention fully to the boy just as he was starting to look for him. He’s sitting at the top of the small slide waiting for Robin to watch. With a smile and a wave from his father, Roland giggles all the way down the slide, and Robin has to stop himself from running to him when he stumbles a bit and trips at the bottom. But Roland doesn’t seem bothered by his little fall, just stands back up and runs to the bench Robin and Regina are sharing.
“Did you see me, Papa?! Did you?” Roland’s little voice is full of joy as he comes barreling into Robin’s knees.
Robin grunts as he bends over to pick up Roland and set him on his lap. “Yes, my boy. You were very brave.” Roland just giggles and pats his father’s cheeks until Robin makes a silly face at him.
Regina is pulled out of watching the sweet scene before her by Roland’s soft and curious voice. “Who’re you?” She stares startled into his big brown eyes for a moment before Robin comes to her rescue.
“This is Papa’s friend, Regina.”
His answer is so simple, and yet it fills her with warmth. Friend. When was the last time someone wanted to be her friend? She can count the people close to her on one hand – the few that see the real her, see past the reputation she has as Cora’s daughter, see past the defenses she puts up. How has the man, this stranger, already managed to weasel his way into her good graces? What is she doing?
She hears them continue to speak as Robin’s hushed voice whispers conspiratorially to his son. “Roland, do you know what Regina also is?” At the curious shake of the boy’s head, Robin looks to Regina and winks. “Regina here is the mayor of Storybrooke.” He says it like it’s a secret and the boy’s awed gasp shows his excitement.
But then he scrunches his face in confusion and asks “What’s that?”
“Well, that means she’s in charge. She works in a big office and makes sure everything in the town works just right. She takes care of everyone here.”
Roland looks at her like he’s in wonder, and his excited question of “So, you’re like a queen?” makes her laugh and look at Robin accusingly.
“I swear, I didn’t put him up to that. He just likes fairytales,” he chuckles.
She scowls at Robin then ducks her head down to speak to Roland, “I guess you could say I’m a little like a queen. But, I don’t live in a castle, and I don’t wear a crown.”
“That’s ok. You’re still pretty like a queen.” Oh, this kid is adorable. Her heart swells at his innocent compliment and his adorable dimples.
“Why, thank you, Roland. You’re such a little gentleman.” She taps the end of his little button nose and he grins and fidgets in Robin’s hold.
“Papa, can I go play more?” At his father’s approval, the boy is back on the ground and running off again with a shouted “Bye, Papa! Bye R’gina!”
Regina and Robin both sit back and chuckle as they watch him play. “He’s adorable.”
“That’s all his mother. That boy is the spitting image of Marian.”
She shouldn’t ask him, she really shouldn’t. But she finds herself wanting to know this man as she asks “When did she pass?” and at his intake of breath, she regrets her question. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to…”
“No, it’s okay. Talking about her…” he sighs “It helps. It’s been two years.” At her sympathetic smile, he continues. “It was cancer. She hadn’t been feeling well for a while. By the time they caught it, it was too late.”
“I’m so sorry.” She reaches over to give his hand a squeeze and he holds on for a moment. She knows that feeling, the helplessness that comes with losing your everything. It’s been 10 years since she lost Daniel, and she can still remember the sound of the doctor’s voice as he told her that they did everything they could. All it took was one rainy night and slick roads to turn her world upside down.
He strokes a thumb over her finger and takes a deep breath. “Honestly, I didn’t know how I would survive when I lost her. She was so strong, you know. She never seemed to be bothered by anything. Loving her was more than I could ever ask for, and being loved by her was more than I deserved.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. I can tell you’re a good man.” She can see him retreating, can see the self-loathing on his face as he speaks, and it’s heart-breaking.
“She made me better. She met me at a low moment in my life, at a time I wasn’t proud of myself. She never gave up on me. And she gave me the best thing in my life.” He doesn’t need to say it. She knows he’s talking about Roland.
“You’ve clearly done a good job with him, Robin. He’s such a sweet boy.”
“I’ve tried. It’s hard without her. She was such a great mom, so patient and loving. On my bad days, I find myself asking what would she do? I hate that he’ll never know her. He deserves so much more.”
“Robin, look at me.” He looks at her with those clear blue eyes, so filled with pain she understands and she’s desperate to chase it away. “You’re giving him everything he needs.”
He exhales heavily and nods. “What about your boy’s father?”
She spots him now. He’s swinging almost high enough to make her nervous. That child is the light of her life, and she can feel how she’s beaming in his direction when she tells Robin, “Henry’s adopted. It’s just the two of us.” She leaves out the fact that she always planned to adopt a child with Daniel. They’ve just gotten past one emotional moment, no need to bring up her past pain.
“That’s admirable. And I wouldn’t have guessed. He almost looks like you.” And he’s looking at her with so much affection that her breath catches in her throat.
“Hmm, we’re a good example of nature verses nurture. That sass is all me. I’m not looking forward to his teenage years.” Her groan is playful and it makes him squirm in his seat.
“Oh, I can imagine.”
She shoves him for his remark and he looks at her in mock offense before a gust of October air makes them huddle together.
“Here.” She lifts the corner of her blanket in invitation at his shiver. He looks a bit surprised, but scoots over anyway, entering her personal space and overwhelming her senses with all things Robin.
She tries to ignore the warmth of his thigh pressed against hers and the way she can smell him now, making her want to lean over and breathe him in. God, he smells good, like pine and sandalwood and soap. This man is going to be the death of her.
They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying this new found closeness. Somewhere in their readjusting, he’s taken hold of her hand again, their fingers tangled gently. He looks a bit nervous about his boldness until she strokes her thumb over his, and he lets out a relieved breath.
They make small-talk, getting to know each other while they watch their children play. She learns he’s a landscaper and that he moved here from England to be close to his younger sister. She’s surprised to learn she actually knows his sister, Belle. The young librarian is always kind to Henry when she takes him for new books. The library is one of their favorite places to go together.
They watch in awe for a moment when they see Henry and Roland playing hide and seek. He’s taken aback. The two boys aren’t close together in age, but Henry is happily letting Roland follow him around. It’s a heart-warming sight. He compliments her on the kindness of her child, and the brightness of her smile could rival the sun.
She tells him about her job as mayor and how she was raised by a political family. He learns that she used to spend her weekends crammed with her books into a booth in the back of the diner that Granny also runs. “That woman practically raised me. She used to snatch my books away and make me eat.” She laughs at the memory of granny scolding her. You have to eat, Regina. Get your nose out of that book for a minute and take care of yourself.
“Sounds like she cares about you a lot.”
“Mother was...” she searches for a word to describe Cora and settles on “difficult. It was nice to have Granny. She looked out for me, kept me sane. And she’s so good with Henry. He loves her as much as I do.”
“I’m glad you had her. And I can’t thank you enough for helping me. Roland loves it at Granny’s.” He’s still stunned by her kindness.
“I knew he would. I was happy to help. I know what it’s like struggling on your own.”
He stares at her for a moment and she can’t place the look on his face.
“You’re brilliant, you know. Positively stunning.” They’re closer to each other than before, and she honestly doesn’t know who leaned in first. All she knows is she’s entranced by the way his breath feels on her face and the soft way he’s playing with her hair. She can’t look away from him.
Just as he’s leaning into her, they’re jolted out of their little bubble. He hears a crash and a cry and suddenly his heart is racing for another reason. Roland.
He looks away from her tempting lips and towards the playground where his boy sits crying as Henry tries to comfort him. Him and Regina both jump into action, leaping from their seats to run to their children.
Through Roland’s cries, he can hear Henry. The boy sounds nearly as upset, is apologizing to his mother and to Roland. They were playing chase, running too quickly, and Roland lost his footing. He can hear her voice, soft and soothing as she presses a kiss to Henry’s forehead and tells him not to worry. Accidents happen, sweetheart. Good. One child taken care of.
He looks to Roland, fat tears running down his little red cheeks, and tries to soothe him. He’s holding his knee, won’t let Robin look at it, and he certainly fell hard enough to tear a little hole in his jeans. He’s speaking soft words and asking his boy to be brave. Papa just needs to look, my boy. It’s alright. He hears Regina murmuring to Henry, her soft voice asking him to get her forgotten bag from the bench, then she’s kneeling down next to Roland, stroking a soft hand through his curls.
Henry returns with her bag and she pulls out a first aid kit. Bless this woman, she’s an angel. A very well prepared angel. As he’s rocking his crying little man, she’s pulling out colorful bandages. She puts an assortment in front of him and looks at Roland softly, stroking tender fingers over the tear tracks on his face.
“Roland, do you like superheroes?” she coos softly. At his little nod and wimper, she smiles. She’s gotten his attention. “Really? Because I have all these cool superheroes here. Would you like to pick one?”
He looks to Henry standing behind her shoulder and the sweet boy jumps to action, “Go ahead, buddy. They always make me feel better.”
She looks at her son proudly as he crouches to sit down beside her before turning her attention back to Roland. He’s astonished by this woman as he watches his son sniffle and look at all the superhero bandages. He settles on a Captain America bandage and Henry smiles and tells him “That’s my favorite.”
Robin rocks his son from side to side gently as Regina explains that to get a bandage, Roland has to show her his knee first. He looks back at Robin with watery eyes and Robin nods at him and kisses his forehead. “Go ahead.”
As he moves his hand, Regina oohs gently and tells him how brave he is, and what a big cut, what do you think Papa, should we call an ambulance? She looks over Roland’s shoulder at him and he falls a little harder for her.
Roland giggles at her through his sniffles and holds his knee still when she asks him to. She carefully cleans his cut, soothing his cries as the antiseptic stings. It’s really just a scratch; Roland was likely startled more than anything else. But still, she tends to it and never makes him feel ashamed. She covers his scratch with a bandage and a kiss before she pokes tickling fingers into Roland’s side to make him laugh. She shows the same easy affection to his child that she shows to her own, and his heart fills with gratitude.
As they all stand, Roland happily clings to her hand as she dusts herself off. She’s swinging their linked hands back and forth as she softly asks Henry if he’s ready to go home. Robin’s not quite ready to let go of her yet, and by the looks of it, neither is his boy. So he takes a leap.
“Actually, I was thinking about taking this little champ here for some ice-cream.” He ruffles Roland’s hair. “Would you and Henry like to join us?”
Henry is already looking at her with excitement and begging “Please, mom!” before she can even process the request.
He waits on baited breath as she looks between the three of them giving her puppy-dog eyes. But she chuckles and agrees, and he’s honestly more relieved than he should be. But as they walk away towards the park exit, she links their fingers together and smiles that dazzling smile at him.
He can’t wait to see what happens next.
Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading and a special thanks to Charlee ( ( @regaloutlaws ). There will be a 3rd and final part of this fic that will also use a prompt from OQPP but unless I can make a miracle happen tonight, it’s not going to be ready on time. I hope you enjoy!
Totally un-betaed so go easy on me. Just a short bit for now.
@spookyoq
Prologue: Monster
It’s the quiet moments that deceive you, where the world stands still and all is calm. The peace that comes as the sun sets, as friends bid each other happy goodbyes with the promise of future hellos. The soft murmurings of small town life that fool you into feeling safe. But monsters lurk in the shadows, masked by the rustling of leaves disturbed by the gentle breeze of dusk. Evil. Evil that stalks you in the night, waiting to clutch and claw, and turn your world upside down.
Storybrooke is a town filled with familiar faces, where children run and play and residents sleep with ease without locking their homes. It’s a place where very little seems to happen aside from the occasional mischief stirred up by restless teenagers looking to cure their boredom. So when 12 year old Roland Locksley goes missing, no one knows quite what to do. Everyone has a theory, but no one has a clue, and the days drag on without answer.
They drag on to the sounds of the mad ramblings of his father. He swears he sees Roland in the lights – calling to him, begging to be saved – but really, everyone knows Robin Locksley has been one fall away from lunacy since he lost his wife to childbirth. He’s been barely holding it together for years; he may never recover.
They drag on weighed down by the cloud of guilt that surrounds Will Scarlet. The Locksleys took in Will two years ago when his parents died in that fire. They’ve been good to him. He should have been there. He was supposed to be there, to make sure Roland went to bed on time while Robin worked the night shift. But, what 16 year old sticks to curfew? It’s a funny thing isn’t it? How people seem to get hurt around Will. And maybe, just maybe, he got tired of the kid following him around. And maybe that fire that killed his parents and spared him wasn’t an accident. But that’s just the latest town gossip.
Everyone gives the children space. How can they be expected to understand loss, to bear grief? Their world has been shattered so suddenly by the loss of their friend. So when they speak of other dimensions and demons of the night, no one corrects them. Perhaps it will lessen the pain if they think Roland is simply lost in another world, looking for a way home, running from monsters. No one has the heart to tell them, he’s probably dead.
The mayor gathers the town, assigns search parties and rescue efforts. With every passing day, the nights grow colder and the residents surer that this will be a body recovery effort. No child can survive so long on their own. But Roland is strong. He’s resourceful. They must keep searching. Mayor Mills won’t watch another family be destroyed. She’ll walk into the belly of the beast to bring that boy home if she has to. Little does she know, she’s chasing two boys.
AN: Just a short little thing to start, hope you enjoyed it! Also, let’s pretend that I got this in on time, ok. Thank you for reading and stay tuned for the next parts. Stranger Things meets OQ! Much love, Danelle
@bisexualreginamillsweek Day 2 - RedQueen/OQ Teen Drabble
FFNet
Day 1
She started finding them after Graham's party - notes left in her locker, dropped in her gym bag, hidden between pages of sheet music. Someone saw, someone that wants to watch her squirm. She thought they were careful, thought they were hidden away from prying eyes. It was just a kiss, a weak moment fueled by alcohol, adrenaline, and the look of Ruby in that skirt. If mother finds out, she's dead. She needs help, a place to land if this goes south, a friend she can trust. She's put it off long enough. Time to tell Robin her secret.
AN: Just a short thing for day 2. Actually keeping this at 100 words was a challenge. I see why drabbles are good writing exercises. It's un-betaed so fingers crossed! Thank you so much for the lovely reviews from day one. I've been rereading them at work and smiling all day! I'll be back tomorrow with more fic. Thanks again for reading!
Sled shuffled his feet as Vidia prattled on about something irrelevant to his concerns entirely; lately the fast flyer had been spending more and more time in the winter woods, although it clearly wasn’t because she enjoyed his company. He normally didn’t mind (he had learned to just ignore her), but her presence was having a negative effect on his attempts to pursue Zarina once again; somehow, every time Zarina was in close proximity, Vidia was there, throwing weak attempts at flirtation around the alchemist. He knew why- even though the fast flyer thought it was a well-kept secret, most everyone knew about her and Ace- their relationship that had formed and exploded all at once. Not that anyone dared to mention it though.
Today was no different. Vidia arrived mere minutes before Zarina crossed the border, accompanied by Ace.
Ace. Sled and the head fast flyer had never seen eye to eye. It seemed that the stoic sparrow man had it out for him, oftentimes shooting seemingly undeserving glares in his direction. Although Sled supposed the more recent glares were because Zarina had told him everything.
In all honesty, he didn’t necessarily care that Zarina and Ace were spending time together. Considering the two were normally at each other’s throats, it was a nice change. Still, he couldn’t ignore the sting of jealousy that Zarina still preferred his cold, emotionless company to his. But he kept these thoughts to himself, merely offering both of them a small nod as they stopped at the border, waiting for a frost fairy to assist them with their wings.
Sighing, he turned back to Vidia, intending to inform her that he had actual work to do. However, his words were interrupted by her lips pressed firmly against his own. It happened so quickly and with such intensity that he scarcely had time to react; one second they were a safe distance away, and the next she was practically on top of him, hands running through his hair.
Finally he managed to push her off, a look of confusion and anger strewn across his face.
“What in the name of the Clarion is the matter with you?” he spat out, wiping his lips on his arm. After the initial shock wore off, he quickly glanced around the expanse of snow, trying to locate Zarina… to see if she had seen—
But they were both gone. And something told Sled that their disappearance had only just occurred; faint traces of purple and orange dust lingered in the air around them.
She wasn’t sure why she did it; she loathed winter and the sparrow man, for that matter. But there she was, spending an obscene amount of time with Sled, always making sure it was when Ace was around.
Vidia wasn’t even sure if Ace ever noticed them together. If he did, he made zero indication, in typical Ace fashion. Always the stoic one, cold, serious, those gold eyes looking past anything he did not wish to see.
Even though she had been the one to call it off, she would be lying if she didn’t say she missed him. His companionship, that is. They two had been rather inseparable for as many seasons as Vidia could recall. She had been more than willing to resume their former companionship and had immediately stepped back into the role of aiding the head talent in his daily reports. But Ace was less compliant.
His disposition was entirely cold, standoffish even. Although even so he put the good of their talent first; Vidia was one of the best and most reliable, and unfortunately Ace knew it. Their conversations were always brief, few words and no expression, except for the occasional flash of anger that would cross over the sparrow man’s eyes, disappearing quicker than it arrived.
This was why Vidia had left; love was too dangerous an emotion. It turned the most level headed, responsible of fays into emotional wrecks, into dependent saps. Vidia had vowed to herself to never be that fairy; the one that needed her sparrow man there, the one that fell apart just because he wasn’t there.
These were the thoughts that flooded through her mind as she watched Ace cross over the border, that know-it-all alchemist trailing behind. Although not normally one to jealousy, in that moment jealousy was the only emotion the fast flyer felt, consuming her from her toes to the tips of her wings.
Jealous for someone that wasn’t even hers.
She had to do something- anything. From where Vidia stood, Ace had the upper hand, the traces of a smile visible as he shared words with Zarina.
Without so much as a second’s thought, Vidia turned to Sled, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself in closely, and connecting her lips to his in a surge of emotion.
