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salmon_pinkTitle: Thornily
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairing: Cruella/Ursula
Rating: G
Words: 250
Timeline: Pre-Season Four's Poor Unfortunate Soul
Notes: Spoilers for Season Four's Sympathy For The De Vil. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
femslash100, prompt "rose".
The cabin is ghastly. Wooden walls, homely touches, the overpowering smell of forest.
It’s enough to turn Cruella’s stomach.
Ursula’s taste in music adds a little refinement to the surroundings, at least.
Cruella’s already halfway through her second bottle of wine. She doesn’t do well with patience, with being holed up in this grotty hovel. There’s little here that matches the jumbled mess of the attic she grew up in, but the sense of time standing still reminds her of it just the same.
It doesn’t help that Ursula’s been distant since they entered Storybrook, since she set eyes on that dashing leather-clad pirate that clings to the saviour’s arm. Ursula’s clearly caught up in her own head, in her own plans, which Cruella can understand, because she has her own reasons for seeking out that wretched author.
But it does make things dreadfully boring.
There’s a vase of roses on the table. Cruella watches as Ursula’s fingers trace over the petals.
“For the longest time,” she murmurs, so low that Cruella can barely hear her over the crescendo of opera, “I longed for the beauty of the surface world.”
Cruella’s hand closes around the flower, squeezing tight until the petals feel damp and broken in her palm. “The only beauty in this world, darling,” she purrs, pressing into Ursula’s personal space, “is sex and violence.”
Ursula hauls her close with a satisfying viciousness.
Cruella smiles into the kiss, ready for a far more pleasing way to pass the time.
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairing: Cruella/Ursula
Rating: G
Words: 250
Timeline: Pre-Season Four's Poor Unfortunate Soul
Notes: Spoilers for Season Four's Sympathy For The De Vil. For
femslash100, prompt "rose".The cabin is ghastly. Wooden walls, homely touches, the overpowering smell of forest.
It’s enough to turn Cruella’s stomach.
Ursula’s taste in music adds a little refinement to the surroundings, at least.
Cruella’s already halfway through her second bottle of wine. She doesn’t do well with patience, with being holed up in this grotty hovel. There’s little here that matches the jumbled mess of the attic she grew up in, but the sense of time standing still reminds her of it just the same.
It doesn’t help that Ursula’s been distant since they entered Storybrook, since she set eyes on that dashing leather-clad pirate that clings to the saviour’s arm. Ursula’s clearly caught up in her own head, in her own plans, which Cruella can understand, because she has her own reasons for seeking out that wretched author.
But it does make things dreadfully boring.
There’s a vase of roses on the table. Cruella watches as Ursula’s fingers trace over the petals.
“For the longest time,” she murmurs, so low that Cruella can barely hear her over the crescendo of opera, “I longed for the beauty of the surface world.”
Cruella’s hand closes around the flower, squeezing tight until the petals feel damp and broken in her palm. “The only beauty in this world, darling,” she purrs, pressing into Ursula’s personal space, “is sex and violence.”
Ursula hauls her close with a satisfying viciousness.
Cruella smiles into the kiss, ready for a far more pleasing way to pass the time.
