As far as it takes

Title: Finding You

Pairing: CHARRILLA -Lana Parrilla/Charlize Theron. (Dear god, what have I done?)

Rating: M for motherofgod, holysweetjesusfuck

A/N: This is my first RPF, and the first thing I’ve written in second person since… high school, probably. Don’t hold it against me. (And don’t ask me about the ending. I honestly have no idea.)

Disclaimer: The following is a work of FICTION. I obviously do not own the two actresses it contains, the characters they play, or the movie referenced. This story is not meant for profit or any other reason than my own twisted amusement. And for the love of all that is holy or otherwise, there is to be absolutely NO tweeting of this story to any of the persons it contains.

Dedicated and entirely blamed on siddymouche and madameshocking.

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October 25^th, 2011

4:02 pm

It had begun innocently enough. A chance meeting at a matinee of a movie you’d both seen a hundred times before, but for obvious reasons, felt the need to see again. The theater was tiny. It had been part of the appeal for both of you. Lana because she’d been stuck inside all of the previous day, nursing a ridiculous hangover. (Too much, too fast at the launch party, she told you. But then that little smirk of hers when she’d said it had been worth the hangover just to see Ginny dancing with Megan on the table.) Today, she desperately had wanted to get out, but not to a place where there’d be crowds of people.

And you… well, you’d been extremely grateful for the distraction the movie had offered.

Since production had been ground to a halt (and yes, of course you know it wasn’t Kristen’s fault she’d torn a ligament. These things happen, but damn it was annoying), you found yourself with nothing to do and no one to do it with.

And when it was that movie playing, who could resist a bit more character research?

You’d been the only ones in the theatre. And oh, how amusing it had been when the light of the preview had been just right to show Lana in profile, making sure her phone had been silenced. And how you wished you could have silenced yourself to keep the gasp of recognition from falling from your lips. Of course you recognized her; you’d seen her on your tv the night before. (Because really, how could you not have watched?)

And when her head had snapped up and backwards at your gasp, lips pursed and brow crossed in an obvious glare, you wished you could disappear. Because it had been that glare. The one that in your mind, would now be forever associated not with Lana Parrilla, but Regina Mills.

You thought about leaving, then. Of just getting up and running away before things could get worse. But it had only taken a moment or two for her expression had softened, slowly recognizing you, and she’d broken into a radiant grin. And when your name had first fallen from her lips, with that tiny, almost-question to it, you knew you were in trouble.

You’d always had a thing for brunettes.

“So you found me,” you’d laughed, unsure of yourself. “Or did I find you?” a strange look in her eye, of more than mere recognition, but then she shrugged, so you continued, glancing at the screen. “Character research?” you’d asked, pleased that your voice was steady and just as amused as you wanted it to be.

She’d laughed- a rich, beautiful sound- and shrugged again, almost guiltily. “Yep. You?”

You’d grinned in reply, “The same.” It was unlikely she knew about the movie, yet. But she also didn’t seem surprised by your answer. She’d only smiled again, and inclined her head towards the seat next to her in obvious invitation.

So it was that long before the opening titles, you’d ended up sitting next to the woman who was playing the tv version of your character, but not. And together, you watched the dramatic entrance of the animated version of your character, but not. You turned your head to watch her face when the mirror first spoke in verse. You could feel her eyes on you, doing the same, when the Queen had spoken her first line, and you knew she was watching your lips move silently in tandem with the words. You knew it by heart. You both did. The first touch had been Lana’s hand on yours as you both quoted. “Now, begin my magic spell….”

The potion was downed, the transformation from Queen to Hag begun, and the look on Lana’s face could only have been described as pure glee when she whispered in your ear: “I can’t wait to do that!” And you’d laughed and agreed.

You were proud of yourself for not crying when the vultures had swooped down after the Queen’s fall from the hillside. She was the villain, of course, and this version of her had very little in the way of redeeming qualities… but still, your heart beat faster in your chest to watch her die. Or perhaps that was only from glancing at Lana, and noting that her own eyes were shining. And her lips… god, those lips… slightly parted, in thought. Her eyes turned to you shortly afterward, her hand clenching yours with the thumb lightly caressing over your fingers. And you had to wrench your eyes away from her lips to meet her eyes.

It had been Lana’s idea to go for beers afterward, but it was you who suggested the place. And when you’d told Lana the burgers there were to die for, well, it had morphed into having dinner together. Burgers, you learned, were her guilty pleasure, as long as they were good. Burgers and beer.

A little more beer than you’d intended, really.

The shine of melted cheese on her lip was more appealing than you’d ever thought possible. You didn’t even recognize that you were leaning forward to remove it before it was too late. Your eyes met hers a fraction of a second before your tongue made contact, scraping over her chin and ridding her of the unruly morsel. You pulled away, judging her reaction with your heart sunk deep your chest like a stone. Her eyes had closed, her chest rose and fell in a deep, considering breath. When they opened again, your own breath caught in your throat, eyes riveted to her lips. She was smiling again.

“So beautiful….”

How exactly you’d both made it back to the hotel room (hers, not yours) was lost in a flurry of cautiously passionate touches and kisses. Though the kisses were never directly square on those lips. It was unspoken that they would not be. Any time she tried, you veered slightly, giving her the corner of your mouth, or the jutting edge of your lower lip. You felt a little unworthy, you knew, of those lips on yours. And she seemed to understand after a while.

Personally, you felt those lips would be far suited for other things. You were not wrong.

She lay on top of you, naked skin pressing deliciously against your own. Your hands clenched in the sheets, nails digging into them as tongue and fingers and lips drove you just to the edge and left you wanting. Hovering just there. You bucked, whimpering, screaming, almost crying in your need. She only smiled at you, laughing, but not cruelly.

Finally it was all you could do to beg and plead, gasping out for more. Her fingers twisted inside you one final time, that last little push of what you needed, and your eyes shot open as pleasure crashed over you in wave upon wave of bliss. It left you weak, raw, and breathless, voice gone hoarse from countless cries of her name. When your vision finally returned to you after several long, deep aching breaths, her lips were the first thing you focused on: pursed, slightly upturned in a satisfied smirk as her hand slid through your hair. “So beautiful… is this all for me?” they whispered.

They were descending to claim your own while you were still too weak to protest. And it was a shock to your system, your first real kiss. Lightning seemed to crack above and around you, sending pulsing, twisting waves of energy radiating from her into you and back in a vicious cycle, over and over and over. Each wave bringing new sensations, new delights and intimacies until you couldn’t help but cry out again, couldn’t keep from screaming against her lips as they pressed to yours with even more force.

And finally, came the memories. And you knew. Oh gods, you knew everything.

Regina-!

Your eyes opened wide in panic, meeting hers- still open. Open since the beginning, so you could never be sure if she had just remembered too, or if she’d always known…. Warm pools of chocolate and honey had darkened, deepened into coal black- empty of anything save dark, obscene pleasure as she held you, crushing you into the bed with her weight above your own.

“At last,” she purred, lips still on yours, her eyes dark with satisfaction and pleasure. “Three different realities. Three different curses, but I’ve finally found you.” And she pulled away, hand pressing against your throat in an almost-caress while you could only gape at her, screaming without sound as the swirling vortex of memory suddenly dumped into your mind.

Queen, girl, mirror. Oh god, the mirror. The mirror bridging, rippling, changing in a pattern not of your design or your control, arcing and swirling to reveal… her. And she had seen you, and wanted you. And you had fought, but there was no fighting her; no denying her. People thought you’d fled because of Snow, because Snow had defeated you. But it was her. It was always her. Watching, wanting, desiring you. And she came for you. And you ran. You ran and you ran and you ran- through worlds, through realities, through lives. Until finally you’d thought you’d escaped her, and fled to a place that erased your own memories as well.

But no longer.

Despite your disorientation, you struggled valiantly, alert and terrified and now bucking for a completely different reason. Your hand went automatically for your dagger- the dagger- summoning it to you in a way you hadn’t ever done in this realm. Had known to do. It responded sluggishly, the particles so slow in forming in your hand as they rushed through time and space and reality. Too slow.

By the time you gripped the handle, her hand had already plunged deep into your chest, clawing around your heart. You froze, the dagger paused just before you could drive it into her own. You screamed. The mirror above the dresser shattered, so like another had done, when she’d first come. She didn’t care. And neither could you.

Pulsing and gleaming like a treasured jewel in her hand, she pulled your heart from your chest as if she’d done it every day for years. With a strangled cry, the dagger fell from yours, clattering uselessly to the ground. You knew what was coming- how could you not? She squeezed, and you could not fight, could not speak. Tears could only roll down your cheeks as you tried to cope, vision swimming, body spasming until finally, finally she relented. And your eyes refocused once more on her lips as they formed your name. But not that name. Not Charlize.

“So beautiful, Ravenna. My Ravenna.” She smirked. And oh god, you shuddered, because finally, you knew, and despaired.

You had never been so lost, now that she’d found you.



…Bad girls love to rock the fur…

siddysfics:

Accidental Damage
Rated E for Everyone

“Mally!” Regina shouts, suddenly glad that her parents have gone into town for the day. The tiny dragon looks up from her spot on the tree branch, eyes wide, the complete picture of innocence. As innocent as a young dragon with smoke still wafting around its nostrils can look, anyway.

Read More

Chapter II

Title: Inconsistent, Consistently

Summary: AU. Unbeknownst to Regina, there’s a stipulation of her casting the curse: its maker is the one who decides where and how everyone ends up, not the caster. Which means that the mayor of Storybrooke is decidedly not Regina Mills. Eventual Swan Queen.

Regina looked away first, not in retreat, Emma knew, but in defense; Gold was the larger, more immediate threat. “I’m with a client.”

The mayor’s head tilted slightly to the side, his expression becoming something bordering on bored. “Fascinating,” he quipped, toying with the end of his cane. “I don’t remember asking. Get rid of them.”

Read on FF.net Read on LJ

Title: Made a Fortune, and Counted It

Rating: K+ for now

Summary: AU. Unbeknownst to the Evil Queen, there’s a small stipulation of her casting the curse: its maker is the one who decides where and how everyone ends up, not the caster. Which means that the mayor of Storybrooke is decidedly not Regina Mills. Eventual Swan Queen

She expected, she realized, for the kid to be swept into a teary-eyed hug and squeezed tightly. That didn’t happen, and Emma found herself oddly disappointed.

Read on LJ Read on FF.net

Title: Red Meets Black

Rating: M

Pairing: Swan Queen

“So this is what you want? … You want… Mmm… to fuck me right here, in your workplace, forced up against metal bars and utterly at your mercy?”

Emma groaned in a mix of arousal and irritation, two feelings Regina seemed to bring out in her in spades, and pulled back to level a look at her. “I can think of worse places.” Her hand slipped lower, finding the hem of the Mayor’s skirt and sliding her fingers beneath it.

Read on FF.net Read on LJ