awful-aus:

"There's only one plug in this entire coffee shop and you're sitting right in front of it and you're not even using it, and my laptop is about to die in the middle of this online exam I'm taking, so whatever I don't care how intimidatingly attractive you are I'm sitting down at your table to plug my shit in." AU

Regina Mills hated Starbucks. The lines were too long, the coffee tasted burnt, and the tables were always full of hipsters with beards and knit beanies working on the next Great American Novel. But she had an hour to kill before picking Henry up from his playdate, and in this neighborhood, her only options were Starbucks or Taco Bell. She bought herself a soy latte, settled into the only open table in the store, and opened the Kindle app on her phone to do some guilty pleasure reading.

She was engrossed in Gone Girl when an accented voice interrupted her. "I'm terribly sorry, but it seems you have the only available plug in this room. Do you mind if I plug in my laptop?" She lifted her head, ready to say that she did indeed mind, very much so, but the blue eyes that met hers made her pause. He definitely had a beard, but this was no twenty-something flannel-wearing hipster. He looked to be about her age, well dressed, with sandy blonde hair and a set of dimples that made her heart skip a beat.

"No, no-" she stammered. "Go right ahead."

She expected him to plug in the computer and stretch the cord to the table where he had been sitting. She did not expect him to pull out the chair opposite her own and make himself comfortable at her table. "Thank you. I'm halfway through a test for my license renewal, and if my computer died now, I'd have to repeat the entire 3-hour bloody course."

Technically, that was a bit of a fib. Robin Locksley has surveyed the room looking for a plug, and his options had been either to interrupt the two teenage girls who seemed to be having a very serious discussion about Justin Bieber, or take a chance on the gorgeous brunette who was nursing a coffee and staring at her phone. It wasn't a difficult decision, really. He had maybe 15 minutes left on his fair housing exam, and then when he was done, maybe he could try to work his charm on the brunette.

She seemed surprised when he sat down across from her, but offered no argument. Her left hand was clutching her coffee cup, and he noted with satisfaction that there were no rings on her fingers. He wasn't in the habit of hitting on strange women at Starbucks, but then women such as this were apparently not in the habit of coming into Starbucks, so he was going to take advantage of the opportunity.

Just as soon as he finished this stupid test.

Regina tried to ignore the handsome stranger and focus her attention on the book, but it didn't seem to be working. She kept looking up to steal a glance at her companion, taking in the way he bit his lower lip as he concentrated. It was very distracting.

"You're staring," he said, without looking up from his screen. She could feel a blush creep along her cheeks. "Sorry," she replied. "My mind was just…wandering." Wandering back to that bottom lip.

Snap out of it, Regina, she told herself. You do not ogle strange men at Starbucks. And with eyes and dimples like that, she was sure that he got more than enough attention from women without adding her to the list. She furrowed her brow and turned back to her book, determined to ignore him until it was time to pick up Henry.

She kept her eyes firmly planted on her phone screen. If she read the same paragraph four times in a row, well, he didn't need to know that.

Once the final question had been answered and the pop-up had assured him that he had passed, Robin closed his laptop. His companion was ignoring him completely, refusing to look up from her phone.

"Well then," he said. "I passed, thanks in no small part to your generosity in letting me share the table. May I buy you a fresh coffee as a thanks?"

She looked up and smiled. "That's not necessary. Besides, I've already had enough caffeine for the afternoon."

"A cookie, perhaps? Or a cake pop?"

She shook her head, her smile brightening. "No, thank you."

"Well then, will you at least tell me your name, so that I may thank you properly?"

She extended her right hand to shake. "Regina. Regina Mills."

He grasped her hand, pleasantly surprised at the firmness of her grip and the softness of her skin. "Robin Locksley, at your service."

"Pleased to meet you, and congratulations on passing your exam."

"Thank you. Now may I ask what it is that has you so enthralled on your phone there? Facebook? Candy Crush? Dostoevsky?"

She laughed, a deep-throated chuckle that made Robin shiver a bit. "Not quite Dostoevsky, but close. I'm reading Gone Girl."

"Ah. I haven't read it, but I did see the movie. Quite a chilling take on modern relationships."

"Well, you know," she shrugged. "People are nuts."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Certainly not all people are nuts. I'll have you know that the women I've dated would all agree that I am perfectly normal, if a bit messy."

Dated. Past tense. Hmmm. "Perhaps. But if it's a lengthy list – the women you've dated – maybe you are nuts and just don't know it."

He nodded. "Fair enough. There's only one way to test this theory. Have dinner with me." Regina's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Had he just asked her out? On a date? "What?" she finally choked out.

"Have dinner with me," he repeated, and there was that smile and those dimples again.

She leaned forward, elbows on the table. "How do I know you're not a serial killer who stalks innocent victims sitting alone at coffee shops?"

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. "My card, Regina. Feel free to google me to put your mind at ease." After a brief hesitation, she accepted the card and tucked it into her purse. She glanced at her phone. Shit, it was already 4:30. She had to go get Henry.

"I have to go," she said, fumbling with her bag and coffee cup.

He stood as she gathered her things. "Regina." She looked up into those blue eyes again. "It was a pleasure to meet you. And now that you have my card, I will be expecting to hear from you once you've determined that I am not a serial killer." He walked her to the door, and as she turned to say goodbye, he reached for her hand. He brought it to his lips and brushed a chivalrous kiss against the back of her hand. "Goodbye, milady," he said with a grin.

She watched him stroll across the parking lot. Perhaps she would call him, after all.

otpprompts: Imagine person A, after months/years of grieving, finally able to move on from the death of Person B.

Zelena's patience had worn thin, he knew that. Knew that she expected him to be delighted with his new life, delighted with sharing a home with her. Delighted to be tending bar and sweeping up after rowdy drunks at the end of the night. And he was, he supposed. This was the life he'd chosen when he'd asked Zelena to be his wife. He had vowed to walk away from Robin Hood and embrace Robin Locksley, a stalwart, upstanding citizen who abided by the kingdom's laws and never, ever stole. He had agreed to all of this willingly, and he was committed to making his future with Zelena work.

It would have been fine, if it hadn't been for that one afternoon where he had finally seen how much more his life could be. That two hours before the wedding that he'd spent with the bandit Regina Mills. She had stood up to him, and challenged him, and made him laugh. She had grit and determination, and she was by far the most stubborn woman he had ever met.

He was quite accustomed to stubbornness; to the man, his followers were a surly and self-centered bunch. Even Zelena had a fearsome temper and would never back down when she wanted something. Regina, though – the stubbornness that she had shown wasn't borne of privilege, or of pride. She wouldn't knuckle under because she knew that giving in meant, quite literally, the difference between life and death. For Robin, playing the merry outlaw was a game. A game he took seriously, of course – he relished in every successful theft because he knew that he could provide for the poor in his village – but for Regina, being an outlaw was the only option she had left.

Well, he supposed that she could have married. Found a wealthy husband to secure her fortune. He remembered her flashing eyes and fiery temper in the tavern. No, a wealthy husband would not have been enough for her. She needed a partner, an equal, someone to ride side-by-side with her, headlong into danger and damning the consequences.

\To this day, he was still ashamed of how close he had been to offering himself to fill that role. Mere hours before his wedding, and he'd been ready to chuck it all and follow her down whatever path she chose. If Zelena had not come looking for him in that tavern, he might have done it.

What was done was done. Regina had walked out of the tavern, and Robin had put her out of his mind, sure he would never see her again. And yet she'd shown up at the church, just as he was to say his vows. He'd felt her presence before he saw her, and when he looked at her, he saw eternity and freedom just waiting for him in her warm brown eyes. The vicar and Zelena were both watching him, waiting for him to repeat his vows, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from her. Couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face at the sight of her, clutching the church door nervously.

\Something had drawn her away, though, and as she disappeared through the door, his traitorous thoughts had fled. The pressure on his wrist brought him back to the present. Zelena was clutching his hand, squeezing hard enough that her nails were digging into his flesh. He had shaken loose the image of Regina's sweet smile and repeated his vows.

As the church bells rung out, he escorted his bride through the vestibule. It was only then that he'd seen her, lying deathly still and covered with blood. He'd run to her side, knowing that it was not his place to be there, knowing that Zelena would be outraged that he'd abandoned her like that, but finding himself not even remotely able to care.

\He'd tucked an arm under her head and muttered empty reassurances, but Regina would have none of it. She was no fool; she knew she was going to die. So he had promised her that she wouldn't die alone, and he'd held her head and stroked her arm until her eyes had closed.\

It was the single most devastating moment of Robin's life.

Months later, talking to Will after the tavern had closed and the two men had finished off the dregs of a cask of ale, Robin had confessed that Regina's death had nearly broken him. The thought of her leaving Sherwood Forest to seek greener pastures was bad enough, but he could have lived with knowing that she was out there somewhere, wreaking havoc and creating her own fortune. What he couldn't live with was seeing the life slowly ebb out of her and knowing that there was nothing he could do about it. Knowing that if he'd just followed her out of the church, as he had so desperately wanted to do, he could have prevented her death.

"Mate," Will had said, "You only met her that day. What were you supposed to do?"

He'd opened his mouth to answer, but words failed him. How could he explain himself to Will, when he couldn't even be honest about his feelings to himself?

"I just-" he had paused. "She was incredible. I've never seen the likes of her before, and I never will again."

"Probably not," Will had replied. "But she's gone, and you're here, and your wife looks fairly miserable. And I can't say that I like her all that much, but you look fairly miserable too. So find a way to make it better, or I'll have to start drinking elsewhere."

Will was right, Robin knew that, so he set about trying to banish the memory of Regina lying on the ground. He brought Zelena flowers for no reason. He focused on making the tavern a successful operation. He embraced his wife in the dark of the night, trying to focus on her red curls and blue eyes, trying to remember all the things that had drawn him to her in the first place. Eventually, he was able to see Zelena when he closed his eyes. Eventually, he was able to laugh with her without feeling like he was betraying the ghost of the person he so wished he could see again. He would go several days without thinking of Regina, and when her face popped into his mind, he found he could tolerate the image. He could look back and smile about her complete unwillingness to say thank you, rather than focusing on how he'd let her down in the end.

Eventually, there were just two people in his marriage, not three. Until the day his first child was born, a daughter that had a shock of brown hair and gave him such a look of determination and anger when he held her in his arms that he was once again reminded that he'd made the wrong choice.

17:"What is _ doing in the freezer?"

Regina stood in front of the stove, stirring a batch of risotto. She looked up as Robin padded into the kitchen, clearly following his nose to the scent of garlic and sauteed onions. "Please tell me that will be ready soon," he said with a hopeful smile.

"About five minutes," she answered. "Can you get the basil out of the freezer for me?"

Robin opened the freezer door, then slammed it shut with a yelp. "Regina! What is your bloody heart doing in the freezer?"

Her heart? She dropped the wooden spoon on the granite countertop. "What are you talking about?"

Robin opened the freezer door and pulled out a frozen red lump. "What is THIS?" he demanded.

She bit her lip, trying to keep a straight face. "It's not my heart, Robin," she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "It's yours."

"What?" he snapped.

"Well, after last night, I thought you could use a little cooling off."

Robin grabbed at his chest, patting his palm against the fabric of his shirt as if he were feeling for a hole, or scars, or something indicating that he was missing a vital organ. She couldn't hold back her laughter. The more she laughed, the darker Robin's eyes got.

"You're funny, Regina. Hilarious." He crossed his arms over his chest, still holding the icy lump in his hand. "But I still would like to know what this is."

She wiped the tears from her eyes. "Science project, Robin. It's plastic. Henry molded it this afternoon and put it into the freezer to firm up."

Robin nodded, a bit abashed that he'd immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion. He placed the plastic heart gently back into the freezer and fetched the frozen basil.

"Thought I could use some cooling off, milady," he said from behind her, wrapping one arm around her waist and brushing the icy cold basil against her cheek with the other. "I rather thought," he said, his lips brushing her ear and sending shivers up her spine, "you liked me hot."

otpprompts:

Imagine your OTP with their first, young kid (like 1 year old) and the kid gets sick for the first time and your OTP doesn't know what to do, so they call their parents and whatever happens next is up to you.

Henry had never been sick, not as a baby. Sure, there had been nights where he had cried for no reason, nights where she had worn a groove in the floor, walking with him and trying to soothe his tears. Nights where she had called Whale at 3am and demanded that he come to her house, only to be told that he had a cold, and babies have colds, and maybe she should relax a little bit.

He had not gotten truly sick until he was four, and he could tell her where it hurt, and as much as she hated to see him in pain she knew that she could fix it.

She could tell by Robin's face that Roland had never gone through this either. That in Roland's first years, the only sickness he'd ever feared was Marian's. And now the two of them were standing in the nursery, with Regina holding Merry and Robin rubbing her back, both terrified of what the night would bring.

She was struggling to breathe, the baby. Gasping in a way that made Regina's own heart stop, gasping in a way that made Robin's jaw clench every time she struggled for breath.

"We have to do something," he said evenly, trying to remain calm because he could see that Regina was on the verge of losing it. "Call the hospital. We're going."

Regina bundled up the baby. Only two months old, and already she'd had to fight through a difficult birth that had resulted in the death of her mother. Two weeks in an incubator in the NICU, but the doctor had given her the all-clear to go home, and Regina had thought that it would be the end of their struggle. That whatever power she possessed would be enough to protect this child that she couldn't help but love.

Robin was on the phone to Emma, asking her to come to the house and stay with Henry. Of course this would happen on the night that Henry was staying in his bedroom on Mifflin Street. Of course the call for help would make her feel like she couldn't even take care of her son. How could she take care of this baby?

Mother, she thought. Mother, tell me what to do.

It was a reflex for Regina, a call to the woman who had borne Regina to climb to heights she herself could never ascend. Cora had never loved her as she'd needed to be loved, but when her mother had died in her arms, Regina had finally learned that Cora had loved her in the only way that she could. And because she was her daughter, Regina had never stopped looking for her mother to make things better.

You stopped breathing when you were a baby, came the answering voice in her head. I've never been so frightened. I thought I would lose you.

It was a story Regina had heard over and over as a child, her mother telling her how desperately she'd wanted a daughter, and how afraid she'd been when Regina had fallen sick and Cora had no idea how to help her.

I asked the maids to bring up hot water, she had said. I locked us into the privy closet, and I paced back and forth with you, surrounded by steam and the smell of rosemary. I thought you would die, but you didn't. You fought for every breath, and by morning, you were breathing easily again. And when you did, I knew that you were the greatest gift I'd ever been given, and I would have died a hundred times over to protect you.

Regina would have gladly done the same for Meredith, the baby that was never supposed to be but had claimed her heart all the same. She ran down to the kitchen and lit the burner, still clutching the tiny bundle in her arms. Tea kettle, rosemary, faith.

She held her niece – her daughter, her flesh and blood – in her arms, and breathed in the vapor. "Please hold on, baby girl," she whispered, and she felt like Merry's breathing came a little bit easier.

Robin's arms encircled her from behind, and she felt him lifting the tiny bundle from her arms. "Whale is waiting for us," he said. "Get your keys."

Regina fished her keys from the crystal vase in the front hallway, and as she followed Robin and Merry out the front door, she heard her mother's voice. You were a survivor, Regina. You always will be. And that's what makes you my daughter.

That's what makes you my daughter, her thoughts echoed, and the claws of panic that had been gripping her heart eased. That's what makes you mine.

thecitricacidcycle:

Outlaw Bandit: Robin sneaks into Regina's hideaway to ambush her (in retaliation for something she's done to him probably), but waits too long and she starts undressing.

She'd pilfered his bow. Of all things, the wretched woman had pilfered his bow. He and the men had been having a knees-up in the tavern, celebrating a most successful haul. He'd been lulled into a false sense of security by the company, and the size of the purse they'd snatched, and most definitely the strength of the ale. He'd seen a woman lurking in the shadows, face hidden by her hair but curves on ample display in a barmaid's dress, but he had thought nothing of it. Until, of course, it was time to leave and his bloody bow was gone.

Regina. She was going to be the death of him, if he didn't kill her first.

Of course, he supposed, he probably deserved it. She had set her own traps for that carriage, traps that he and his men had meticulously undone. Robin hated to take food from her mouth, but Sherwood Forest was an unforgiving place, and he and his men had to take care of themselves first and the people second. Regina Mills was but a distant third on his list.

That is, until she stole his bow. Her audacity immediately moved her up to to the top of Robin's list of priorities.

He stole quietly through the forest in the dead of night, side-stepping her traps with ease. He had no interest in dismantling her rough security system; he just wanted to avoid warning her that he was coming. He crept into the hollow log that she called home. A quick survey told him she wasn't home; a more thorough search showed that wherever she was, she still had his bow. He settled in a dark corner to wait.

She crept in so silently that he didn't hear her until she was almost on top of him. She was covered head to toe in a dark cloak, and damn her, she was wearing his bow slung across her back. She pulled the bow off and dropped it carelessly on the floor; watching the bow he'd so delicately carved clatter on the stones underfoot almost sent him to his feet. He kept his silence, though; eventually, she'd nod off and he'd be gone with his bow and, no doubt, with something of value to her.

She didn't have much, that much he knew from his earlier search. What little she had, though, she kept in good condition. She was cautious in all things and far more capable than most men he'd met. Truthfully, he admired her for having the gall to steal his bow, and he relished the opportunity to return the favor. Parting the rich from their wealth was Robin's favorite pastime; goading Regina Mills was a close second.

He expected her to drop her cloak and fall into her pallet in the corner; the hour was late and clearly she'd been busy this evening. He didn't expect her to begin removing her shirt right in front of him. Suddenly, he regretted coming here tonight. He had no issue with provoking Regina's temper, but he was not the kind of cad that would take advantage of a woman, no matter how often she irritated him. He opened his mouth to say something, to stop her from revealing too much, but the shirt was over her head before he could speak. Her back was to him, and she had an angry red gash from her shoulder to her mid-back.

"That looks quite serious," he said softly. She jumped and whirled around, clutching her shirt to her chest.

"You," she breathed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He looked to his bow, and looked back up to her, one eyebrow cocked in disbelief. "You have to ask? Now turn around."

She continued to stare at him, mouth agape. One hand was twitching nervously, and he knew that it was itching to find a weapon to sink into his belly. He wouldn't give her the opportunity, though. He reached out and grabbed her shoulders (gently, minding the wound), and turned her away from him. He studied the injury in the candlelight. "Well, it's not deep, but it still needs attention." He pulled a flask from his vest and poured a liberal amount of whiskey over the wound. Her shoulders stiffened and he heard her sharp intake of breath, but she gave no other indication that she felt any discomfort. "Have you any salve to put on this?" She hesitated, then jerked her chin toward a shelf to his left. He poked through the jars until he found the one he wanted, a foul-smelling brew popular throughout the forest for heading off infection. He scooped some into his fingers and began gently rubbing it onto the abrasion. He couldn't help but notice the soft perfection of her skin, the curve of her waist, or the sharp angle of her jaw as she turned to look at him over her shoulder. He gently brushed her braid out of the way. "Hold still please," he muttered. He was mortified to find that his breathing had quickened, keeping in time with his rapidly escalating heartbeat. Of all the things he'd expected to find tonight, a half-naked Regina was not one of them.

She was breathing heavily too, he noticed with some satisfaction, and clutching her shirt over her breasts for dear life. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over her bare skin, and her shoulders stiffened. "It will leave a mark, I'm afraid, but I believe you'll live." She nodded, but she made no move to pull away from him. He stroked a hand along her uninjured shoulder, marveling at the sinew and muscle under his hand. He felt the heat of her coursing through his veins, and he dropped his hand. "Now, milady, I believe I'll take what I came for." He reached down and scooped up his bow, his eyes never leaving hers. He bowed with a smug smile and backed slowly out of her home. She made no move to stop him, nor did she look away. He took the memory of the fire and passion in her eyes with him to his camp.

Well, that and the pendant he'd lifted from the shelf next to her medicinal jars. Turnabout was fair play, after all, and he found he was eager for her to come after it.