cupid smokes cigarettes
This is an accident, she whispers, mouthful of gin and cigarette burns on her fingertips.
You're a fucking accident, she works to keep the venom in her voice, works to keep her hands off Regina, works to keep herself together.
Your mother never loved you, and I don't either, that's worth another shot of gin, and this one goes down worse than the last. It burns, burns, burns, and all Cruella can do is chase it with a puff of cancerous smoke. She wonders if Regina is a cancer. If she's some sort of disease that she isn't strong enough to fight.
Everyone loves an accident.
cupid tries to cope
Cruella often thinks about Cupid. She imagines a deformed infant, limbs twisted and shriveled, trying to balance a bow and arrow on shaking fingers. She thinks about him whenever she sees Regina. It's becoming a habit, but Maleficent calls it a coping mechanism. Gin is her coping mechanism, and lately, Ursula has been emptying her bottles before she can get to them.
Regina is a Greek goddess.
Regina is Aphrodite.
Regina, Regina, Regina.
Cruella feels like Ares, trapped in the witch's web, and she tries and she tries, but silk feels more like chains, and she can't free herself. She doesn't even think she wants to.
cupid gets his first kiss
The first time she kissed Regina, it was at Granny's. The pedestrian place that wasn't good enough for either of them. The diner that sold frozen cheeseburgers and lukewarm Coca-Cola. Coke sounded good. Cruella had sniffled, tossed back one too many shots, slid her hand around the back of Regina's neck, fingers encasing her throat like claws.
"What are you doing?" Regina's voice dripped with malice, the kind of tone that said "fuck me, don't kiss me." But her mouth was bruised black and blue by the time Cruella pulled away, little droplets of crimson peppering her own lip.
The queen tasted like sin.
