This is a prompt fic, requested by Yukiheart19. *PLEASE NOTE THERE ARE TWO VERSIONS OF THIS STORY. ONE G!P, ONE NON-G!P* Please read the entire author's notes for details on where to find each one.

The prompt was for a student/teacher, G!P Regina, Regina chasing Emma fic.

I tweaked the prompt so that both Emma and Regina are teachers, the rest remains as requested in the original prompt. This will be a slow burn fic, and way longer than I intended it to be. I hope you're ready for a loooong ride.

Please note:

This version of the story, with G!P Regina, is the one posted here on Fanfiction.

****If you do not like G!P and want to read about CIS gendered women, please go to Archive of our Own. I have this exact same story (same title, same author) changed so that both Regina and Emma are CIS gendered women, no mentions of cocks or penis or anything of that nature ****

Emma adjusted her shirt for the umpteenth time that morning, trying desperately not to feel nervous and failing miserably. She was once again the new kid- well, not a kid, since she was an adult but nonetheless, she was new- and she was feeling all those old feelings of anxiety and insecurity. She shouldn't, she knew that. There probably wasn't going to be anyone in this school who would pull on her hair, or call her names, or make fun of her clothes. Nonetheless, Emma worried. She chewed on her lower lip, reminding herself that she was an adult now. There was nothing to worry about. She was a professional now. She was a teacher.

A teacher.

She was finally living her dream of teaching at a primary school, her old primary school no less (one of them, anyway), teaching English to (hopefully) eager fourth and fifth graders. Emma swallowed down her fears and anxieties, those old what if they don't like you, what if you don't fit ins coming back to haunt her.

The kids didn't scare her. Oh no. Emma was good with kids, understood them. The teachers, however. They terrified her. She had no idea if she'd fit in with them, no idea if they'd be nice or if they'd be cruel and snobby and exclude her, especially once they learnt that she'd been a high school drop-out who had only recently graduated. What would they say if they learnt of her past?

Emma had spent a few years on the street as a teenager instead of focusing on her studies, doing less than legal things (luckily never getting caught) but getting close enough to finally scare her straight a few years ago. She'd returned to school, working nights and weekends and basically any spare moment she had trying to save up to afford just one more class, one more textbook. She'd shown up for her courses bruised and battered and tired after spending yet another sleepless night chasing a bounty. But the pay was unlike any other, and she was good at it, could have made a career of it, but that wasn't what Emma wanted. She wanted to teach, so she persevered and eventually put herself through teacher's college. She was a fighter, a survivor. She was no longer that homeless, lonely girl who was always hungry and dirty, looked down upon and rejected, unwanted by society.

She shouldn't be worried about the other teachers, Emma reminded herself as she got into her car. She was a completely different person from that girl and these people wanted her. The school had come after her before she had even finished her degree. She knew the reason they wanted her had a lot to do with the principal, one Miss Mary Margaret Blanchard, who had been one of Emma's favourite teachers (she had kind of taken Emma under her wing when she'd been her seventh grade teacher, becoming a substitute mother at school). When Miss Blanchard – no, Mary Margaret, Emma corrected herself, you're no longer my pupil, Emma. Please call me Mary Margaret when there are no students around – had learnt that Emma was due to graduate in June of last year, she had reached out to her and offered her a teaching position at her school. Emma knew teachers were in high demand, and she could easily have found a position at a more prestigious school, with a better paying salary, but there was something comforting about returning to quiet Storybrooke and knowing that her favourite seventh grade teacher was there waiting for her.

So Emma had packed her bags right after graduating, had moved in with Miss Blanchard – Mary Margaret – upon arriving in Storybrooke, and spent the next two months becoming reacquainted with her old teacher (who really was only twelve years older than her) and the town that had once been her home. It had been a blissful two months, and they had flown by quickly. Emma had prepared herself for today, had gotten herself ready two hours early before taking the route to Storybrooke Primary School, butterflies fluttering nervously in her belly. When she arrived, Emma parked her car in the parking lot. She then headed up towards the front of the building, where she identified herself to the front office, before being escorted to the principal's office. It was strange now, to be headed there for reasons that didn't involve the bruises on her body, or the fact that she was always hungry, or that she was sleeping in class again. Emma shook her head, a smile coming easily to her face when she spotted the woman who had so eagerly welcomed Emma back into her home and into her life.

"Emma! So good to see you. Thank you, Ariel, for bringing Emma to my office."

"It was no problem, principal Blanchard. Nice to meet you Miss Swan."

"Did you find your way here okay?"

Emma chuckled.

"Even if I hadn't spent the last two months exploring this place again, this town is the size of a peanut and nothing has changed. I'd have had no problems finding my way back."

Mary Margaret smiled warmly at Emma. She walked over to her new English teacher, nodding at her.

"Well, good. You look very smart this morning, Miss Swan. I believe the children will love you."

Emma grinned.

"I'm hoping so, though I'm not too worried about the kids. It's the other teachers that make me nervous."

"Don't worry about them. The faculty here is very kind."

Emma wanted to believe her, the problem was, Mary Margaret was nice to everyone and believed everyone was kind. Emma, in her life, had experienced the exact opposite. People scared her, worried her, and she was wary of them. Trust did not come easily to Emma like it did to Mary Margaret.

"I'll show you around the school quickly, but then I have to get going. The first day of school is always incredibly busy. Most children will start arriving around eight thirty, and you're expected to arrive at eight at the very latest in the morning. You're welcome to arrive earlier, but given that this is the first time you've woken up before ten since you arrived, I'm guessing I'll be seeing you here at eight and not a minute sooner."

Emma gave a sheepish grin.

"Yeah, not much of a morning person."

"That's fine. There's a coffee machine in the staff room that you're more than welcome to use. It's the first stop on our tour."

Emma's ears perked at the words, nodding eagerly as she followed Mary Margaret. She had downed a coffee this morning, but she was definitely keeping that information for future reference. If she could sleep for an extra few minutes by grabbing a coffee at school, she was most certainly going to do that.

"Wow, this is really nice," Emma complimented, taking a look around the sizable room.

"I took great care to make the faculty lounge as warm and inviting as possible for my staff. Your job is stressful and you're underpaid and underappreciated. The least I could give you was a comfortable place to relax. You don't have to come here, some of the teachers prefer to stay in their homerooms, but it would be a great opportunity for you to meet your colleagues if you did eat here, at least for the first couple of weeks."

Emma nodded her head, wondering if she'd be able to make friends here. As a kid, she'd had a very hard time making them. It was hard to develop any kind of friendship when you were being bounced around from place to place, even harder when you were the new kid and you wore hand-me-down clothes that were two sizes two big and about two decades out of fashion. A lot of Emma's memories of school weren't very good, but Storybrooke Primary School had been one of the better places she'd been at. The teachers had been pretty kind and the kids, well, they hadn't taunted her, and that was the most Emma could ask for at the time. The kids had accepted her into their groups when she'd been assigned group work, though they never invited her in outright, and they didn't put up a fuss when the teachers asked them to show her around or to explain something to catch her up to the rest of the class. They didn't make fun of her for not knowing the answer, and a few even helped her along by whispering it to her. She wondered if any of her old classmates still lived in sleepy Storybrooke or if most of them had moved away.

Emma's thoughts were interrupted by Mary Margaret inviting her to follow her as she began a quick tour of the school. Truth be told, Emma vaguely remembered where things were still (she hadn't wanted to visit the school before today, too afraid she'd panic and run if her anxiety got the best of her), and the more she walked around, the more her memories returned. Emma remembered the squeaky floorboard in the music room, the door handle that stuck in the janitor's closet in the girl's washroom (why that hadn't been repaired, Emma had no clue). The walls had been painted and some of the classrooms had changed location (and had magically gotten smaller than they had been when she was 12), but for the most part, everything was the same. Well, except for one glaring difference.

"What's with all the Spanish?"

"This is a bilingual school now," Mary Margaret stated, confused. "I told you that."

"Yeah but like, I thought you meant bilingual as in there we a lot of Hispanic kids."

There had been a lot of them when Emma was here too, but there was definitely no signs or posters plastered along the corridor walls when she was here. Not that she minded or anything, she always liked the Spanish language, thought it was cool that some people could speak two languages (and she loved Mexican food), but it was really strange to see the abundance of Hispanic presence in her formerly English only school.

"There are, but this is also a designated bilingual school. We have a Spanish Immersion program, where some of the kids do their core courses in Spanish and their extra-curricular activities in English."

"Uh, I'm not going to be teaching English to like, non-native speakers am I?" Emma asked. She was definitely not qualified to do that.

Mary Margaret laughed at Emma's terrified expression.

"No, Emma. You'll be teaching English to kids who are fluent in English, though some of your students will be Spanish speaking as well. The kids who are still learning English though are in a separate program altogether. We have teachers who are specially trained for that."

"Oh thank God. I mean, I can get by in Spanish. I wouldn't starve in Mexico, but I definitely can't have a full on conversation or anything."

Mary Margaret chuckled.

"Don't worry. We don't expect you to."

Relieved, Emma followed the woman on the rest of the tour, looking around and taking note of the Spanish signs posted around the school. Everything looked the same, save for the bilingual signs everywhere, and Emma thought briefly to herself that this would be a good opportunity for her to learn the language.

"Okay, come on. Some of the teachers will have arrived by now. I can introduce you to a few of them so you at least know some names before I have to be off."

Regina straightened her skirt as she headed up the steps to the school at which she'd been teaching for the last eleven years, flattening her palms against her blouse as she opened the door. She breathed in the familiar scent of the primary school, a smile touching her lips as she headed directly towards her classroom. She would be teaching the little ones this year, only the second time she'd have a kindergarten class, but she was incredibly eager. Normally, she taught history to the older Spanish Immersion children, but she'd put in a request for something new this year, something different. She was nervous, admittedly, for such a drastic change, but the idea of teaching Spanish through songs and rhymes, the opportunity to revisit her culture through children's stories was an incredibly enticing one. Regina was certainly going to have children whose mother tongue was Spanish, but that was okay. They would help her as she taught the English speakers to learn her native language. It would be a bit of a challenge to balance having half of a class who spoke the language fluently and the other half who were still learning, but it was a challenge Regina was eager to take on.

She headed to her classroom, smiling at the decorations that adorned its walls. Bright colours with the names of each of her students was written in bold underneath, giant pictures of animals (also with the Spanish names above, below, or beside) occupied one side. Big, colourful numbers and letters plastered about on another. The lower half of the back wall were full of cubbies with each child's name written inside. Above were pictures of each child and their date of birth, clustered together by month so that they could easily be celebrated through the year. The rug she had chosen for the classroom was dark blue with an alphabet border. Huge windows replaced what would have been the fourth wall, letting in an extraordinary amount of sun, lighting up the classroom and illuminating its walls. It was a small room, but it was inviting. Regina had spent the last of her vacation days decorating in preparation for her new students. It had been exciting, getting ready for her "kids", gathering supplies and music CDs and story books. The only thing that could have made it better would have been if Henry had decided to help her.

The smile on Regina's face faltered slightly at the thought of her son, who had recently discovered his adoption and was none too pleased with her for not being forthcoming about it. She had chosen to wait until he would be ready to hear the news, until he was old enough to accept it, but he had found out on his own (he had always been too curious, too inquisitive) one afternoon last month when he'd been rifling through some of the boxes at the back of her closet. He had discovered her carefully guarded secret and had reacted atrociously, and no amount of grounding or stern talks or reproachful speeches stopped his admittedly hurtful words. She had been prepared to listen to him, to hear him out, to talk to him about it, but she would not allow him to disrespect her as he had. And now, now she feared what this coming year would bring. He had always been such a good student, an eager learner, but with this new development he had declared that he hated school, that he didn't want to be anywhere near her, that he didn't even get a break from you because you even teach at my school!

Regina took a deep breath and pushed those memories to the back of her mind, swallowing down the wave of hurt that they brought. Her neighbour and colleague, one Mr. David Nolan, had been her saving grace in all of this. He'd helped Henry with his anger and his lashing out, bringing the boy home and helping to discipline him when he ran away. He had agreed to start bringing Henry to school in the morning, given that the boy no longer wanted to come early and hang out with his mom in her classroom as he had done in previous years. David was the school gym teacher and therefore had no homeroom, so he arrived at eight thirty right with the bell. It was a good arrangement, perfect even, despite the fact that it hurt Regina to know that her little boy hated her so much.

Emma was excited. Things were going great for her, and for once in her life she felt at ease in her day to day routine. She got along swimmingly with Mary Margaret both at home and at school (she'd been worried spending so much time together would make them hate each other), and she had even managed to make a few friends by taking her roommate's advice and having lunch in the faculty lounge. Her students were awesome, engaging, and surprisingly well behaved. It had taken her a week to learn everyone's name, but now that she had, it was like she had a secret hold on them. Whenever one acted out, all it took was saying the child's name and they stopped. Emma was loving being a teacher, incredibly happy with her decision to go back to school and achieve her dream. The only thing that concerned her as time started to go on was the student in her class who barely spoke, who seemed to grow more quiet with time rather than less. Emma had first attributed his lack of speech as timidity, shyness in the face of a new teacher, a new classroom, but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into a month, Emma grew concerned.

Quiet, or altogether silent, children didn't necessarily mean there was something wrong, Emma knew that. They could just be shy or uncomfortable having attention thrust upon them, but on occasion, quiet meant there was something the child was trying to hide, a secret they were burying, trying to make themselves invisible in the hopes that no one would notice. Emma always paid attention to the quiet ones, as well as the kids who acted out, because they typically tended to be the kids who had a secret to hide. Not that Emma ignored the other children, of course not, but those two categories of kids were definitely more on her radar. She had been one of those kids, one of those students who sank into her seat, who never spoke unless forced to, who tried to blend in with the wallpaper and Emma vowed she would never let a kid disappear like she had done so many times before. And as time progressed and there was no change in the boy's behaviour (other than the sharp, whispered words he occasionally exchanged with the kid seated in front of him), Emma grew more and more uneasy. Something was going on with Henry, and the weeks progressed, Emma began to see the signs of an angry child, a hurting child, start to come out. He wasn't undernourished, as Emma had stopped by at lunch time to see his meals. He wasn't falling asleep in class, and he was obviously bright as so far all his test scores were in the A-B range. She couldn't see any outward signs of abuse (though that definitely didn't mean they weren't there, Emma knew that). There was nothing obvious about him, but there was something. Emma just hadn't quite put her finger on it yet.

Emma tried to get the boy to talk, tried to win his trust so he would tell her what was wrong, but he dodged her, avoided her, gave her non answers. He was good at deflecting, but Emma knew all the tricks and she kept at him, refusing to give up. He spoke to no one but the boy seated in front of him. Emma thought this was a good thing, observed from her own seat at the front of the class, but she quickly changed her mind when she realised how angry their expressions looked when they spoke to one another. She suspected something bad was going to happen if she kept them so close, so she began a new seating chart. But, the day before she could implement it, Henry chose that day to finally express himself.

"I hate you!" Henry screamed, launching himself at the boy in front of his desk. "Just shut up! I hate you!"

Emma reacted instantly, pulling Henry off of the boy he had jumped and sending them both to the principal's office. She was vibrating, on edge all day until she could get home and approach her roommate. She talked to Mary Margaret about each of them that very night (Henry is a lovely boy, Mary Margaret had said, he's just having some problems at home right now, and Nicholas, well, he's being raised by an overworked single father so he isn't getting the discipline at home that he should be), asking her for her advice on how to handle the situation. Teacher's college had definitely not prepared her for fist fights between ten year olds, and Emma would take all the advice she could get.

"I'd sit everyone down and have a long talk about bullying, about respect, and about tolerance. I'd lay down the ground rules, in case you haven't already done it, and make it perfectly clear that you won't be accepting any kind of fighting or bullying or disrespect in your classroom."

Emma was nervous to approach the topic, but her chat with Mary Margaret had definitely helped. So, armed with videos on bullying and memorised speeches and as much confidence as she could muster, Emma forewent her grammar lesson for English 5B and instead spent the entire lesson discussing the topics of respect, bullying, and acceptance. She had made it abundantly clear that there would be absolutely zero tolerance of name calling or bullying of any kind in her classroom, and she felt confident the message had gotten through when the lesson had finished.

She had been blissfully incident free for the two weeks following her bullying intervention day (though Henry still refused to talk to her, Emma was not giving up), but one cool afternoon in mid-October found Emma once again yanking Henry and Nicholas apart on the school grounds, just as the school let out for lunch.

"Hey! What did I say about fighting?!"

"We're not in your classroom, Miss Swan."

Oh, you cheeky bastard.

"You know full well that isn't what I meant, Henry. The rules apply to the entire school grounds, not just my classroom. Heck, they apply everywhere. Do you seriously think you can just beat people up on the street and you won't get in trouble for it? Guess again, buddy. To the principal's office with both of you."

She dragged both boys to Mary Margaret's office, the woman giving each of them a disapproving look before excusing herself to speak privately with Emma in the hallway.

"What happened?"

"Dunno, neither are talking. Caught them both fighting in the school yard though. Again. Last time it was Nicholas who started it, calling Henry all sorts of names or something and talking shit about his mom."

As soon as she mentioned the word "mom", a flash of something crossed Mary Margaret's eyes but disappeared before Emma could even really be sure it was there.

"Emma, language," Mary Margaret finally said reproachfully.

"Sorry. But that's what he did."

The woman nodded.

"Alright. I think it's time to bring in the parents. We had a zero tolerance policy for fighting, and this time, unfortunately, I have to do something about it." Mary Margaret glanced at the clock. "I'll call Nicholas' dad. He should be having his lunch in about an hour, but maybe he can come a little early. Will you go get Ms. Mills from kindergarten C? It's in the Spanish Immersion wing."

"Ms. Mills?"

"Yes, Henry Mills' mother."

"Henry's mom works here?" Emma asked, surprised. How had she not known this?

"Yes. Now will you please go get her? She'll want to hear about this."

"Alright."

Emma made her way down the halls to the SI wing, counting down the classrooms until she finally reached the room labelled 'Kindergarten', under the Spanish sign educación infantil- what? Infant Education?

Emma shook her head. She didn't have time to contemplate the confusing words.

She gently pushed open the door, her eyes immediately finding Miss Mills in the group, kneeling down, singing along and clapping with the children as they sang a song Emma only barely understood. When her eyes landed upon the woman, Emma's breath caught in her throat.

Her mystery woman.

The mystery woman Emma had been trying to meet was Ms. Mills? Henry's mom? Fuck.

There had been a woman Emma would see every once in a while around a corner, down a hall, outside. She'd only ever catch a glimpse of her, never see her for longer than a few seconds. At first, Emma had actually thought there was a ghost haunting the school, but she'd seen the woman too often for her not to be real.

Emma had had no clue who this phantom woman was, only that she was absolutely gorgeous and Emma wanted to meet her. But, she had had no one to ask who this ghost woman was because every time she saw her, she was gone before she could point her out.

Emma had actually tried asking Mary Margaret once, but the woman had gotten quiet and said she had no idea who Emma was talking about. Emma's inner lie detector had screamed that the woman was being untruthful, but Emma had felt unable to confront her about it. She was still being careful, treading lightly, as Mary Margaret was currently letting her live in her house for next to nothing. The housing market in Storybrooke was atrocious at best (not that Emma could afford anything, not yet anyway), and the places that were for rent were currently available for a reason. Unless she wanted to move into a city forty miles away (which, no thank you), she'd have to be careful not to upset her roommate to the point that she got kicked out.

She had then tried to ask Ruby, but the woman had shook her head and said she had no idea who she was talking about. Admittedly, a sexy woman with dark hair who disappears like a ghost was not much to go on. Emma had given up asking, instead roaming the halls trying to find this mystery woman. She'd never actually gotten the chance to explore the Spanish Immersion wing, but now that she had, Emma was elated to realise that she had found her ghost.

Emma took the opportunity to observe the incredibly beautiful Latina in all of her glory, dancing on the spot as she sang with the children who surrounded her. There was a pile of cloths next to gorgeous brunette, and the woman was currently dancing a black one in front of her body as she sang with the children to an admittedly upbeat tune.

"Negro, negro, me gusta el negro. Negro, negro es el mejor color. Me gusta el negro, ¿sabes por qué? Es porque es el color de mi gato."

She then dropped the cloth to the pile next to her, clapping with the children as the song finished.

"¡Muy bien, niños! Very good, guys! You did so well. Now everyone put on your coats, Miss Lucas will be here soon to bring you to the bus."

Emma's heart fluttered as the side profile she'd had of Miss Mills quickly changed, allowing her to take in the woman's delicate features head on.

"Miss Swan," the woman greeted, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"How do you know my name?" Emma sputtered. She'd only just learnt that Ms. Mills even existed and yet she knew Emma by name?

"It's not exactly a national secret. Now, I'll ask again, why are you here?"

She wasn't exactly being aggressive, Emma noted, but there was something almost… defensive about her tone.

"Uh, Mary- I mean, Miss Blanchard sent me. Henry's been in a fight again."

Regina frowned, anger (and maybe disappointment?) flashing across her face before she adopted a neutral expression.

"Miss Mills? Will you help me with my jacket, please?"

Regina's shoulders relaxed before the little girl, her eyes falling to her tiny face. She smiled immediately at the little girl, who struggled with her zipper.

"¿Cómo se llama?"

"Um, chaleca?"

Regina's soft giggle made Emma's stomach flutter.

"That was a good try. Cha-que-ta. A jacket is una chaqueta."

"Chaqueta," the girl repeated.

"Muy bien. Yes, I can help you with your chaqueta."

Regina gently reached out and zipped up the girl's coat, assisting the others while Emma waited by the door. She was greeted by Ruby, one of the women who had been nothing but friendly to Emma since they'd first met. The woman was in charge of assisting teachers during breaks, at recess, and when it was time to ship the kids onto the buses. Ruby often came to collect the children and walked them to the area they needed to be.

"Miss Lucas is here. La señorita Lucas está aquí. Vamos, niños. Hagan cola."

Emma watched, stunned, as the children queued up and waited patiently for Miss Mills to speak again. The woman gave them each a warm goodbye (hugging the children who requested one), telling them she'd see them all tomorrow. When the last of the children had made their way into the hallway, Ruby smiled at the women and waved.

"Bye, Regina. Bye, Emma. See you guys tomorrow."

So her name is Regina, Emma thought to herself. Good to know.

"Later, Rubes."

"Goodbye, Miss Lucas."

Emma then turned back to the brunette, shoving her hands in the pockets of her jeans as she rocked on the balls of her feet.

"So, we should probably head back to Miss Blanchard's office. We can go together if you want."

"I am perfectly capable of finding my way, Miss Swan. I have worked here for longer than you've had a teaching degree. I do not require your assistance for such a simple task."

Emma flinched, though she knew she had no reason to. She had worked hard for her degree, and she was turning out to be a pretty good teacher, despite the fact that she was still in her first year.

"Geez. I was just trying to be a nice person."

"I do not need any more nice people in my life, Miss Swan. Now please exit my classroom and tell Miss Blanchard I will arrive shortly."

"Yeah, fine, whatever."

Bitch.

The pretty ones were always assholes, Emma thought, disappointed as she returned to Mary Margaret's office alone.