ONCE UPON A TIME: The Bell Tolls at Midnight
Author:magic0logy:
Title: The Bell Tolls at Midnight
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Character/Pairing: Ruby/Graham
Word Count: 877
Rating: T
Summary: And the wolves come out to play
A/N: Written for onceuponaprompt, midnight. Part of the Life Ain't a Fairytale series.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
The Bell Tolls at Midnight
The clock strikes midnight.
Well, it doesn't actually strike midnight, since, you know, the clock tower doesn't actually work, but Ruby knows the time. She always knows things when there's a full moon. Something about the way it glows must sharpen her senses, Granny used to say, back when they had a good relationship.
She doesn't recall them ever having a good relationship. She's learned not to let this bother her.
Outside the moon is bright and Ruby pretends to dry dishes while she worries.
Worries because it is long past Henry's bedtime, and there is never any crime in this stagnant town.
A shiver runs up her spine, the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end, and she looks up as a car parks-screeches-out in front of the diner, headlights blinding, sirens off-as usual. She briefly wonders what felonies she would have to commit to get those sirens to whine, to wake the town.
Don't ever make it seem like you waited, warns Granny in her mind, unwavering, unwanted, unneeded. Ruby turns her attention back to the dish she's been drying for the past half hour.
The bell at the door chimes and Ruby doesn't need to look up to know it's him because she has everything about him memorized, from the tread of his boots as he tracks mud on the linoleum she's just cleaned to the sound of his jacket as he unzips it and tosses it onto the coat rack. Maybe she does have a routine memorized for everyone who frequents the diner, but only his makes her heart skip a beat.
And that scares the shit out of her.
"You're late, Sheriff."
"I'm sorry," he answers, frazzled, and then he's behind her, his arms intertwined around her waist and his lips burning, circling in patterns down her collarbone.
"I tried, but Regina-"
Ruby stiffens.
"Never mind. It doesn't matter." He kneads out the knots in her shoulders, kissing where his fingers leave off. She doesn't move. He spins her around.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
His collar is lopsided. His buttons are done up wrong. His hair is rumpled and all she wants to do is tangle her fingers in his curly locks and make it worse.
Maybe any other night she would give into his desperate charm, kick off her high heels and do things that would make Granny tut. After all, being everyone's favorite girl is what she does best. But she knows exactly why he looks so...exhausted, and while she doesn't care so much about being the only one, she has to be the one that matters.
You smell like her, she wants to say, but she doesn't.
Ruby fiddles with his collar and smooths out the creases in his shirt.
"How was she tonight, Sheriff?"
She toys with his top buttons before she undoes them and drags her perfectly manicured fingernails down his chest. He winces.
"Did she touch you like I do?" she hisses, her grin coy.
She tugs him down and catches his lips in hers. She bites, hard, and he groans and leans in, his hands tugging at her apron strings. She slaps them away.
"Did she kiss you like I do?" she purrs, and licks the metallic taste of blood from his mouth.
"Ruby," he breathes out.
She takes his hand and plants a kiss upon his palm; her scarlet lips stain his fingers. He stares, eyes wide.
"Does she love you like I do?" she whispers, soft and sweet and just a little bit scared, because she's never put her heart on the line, because somehow she always gets baited and torn.
One hand squeezes hers, his other grips her waist. When he lets go to bury his fingers in her hair, her pale skin blushes in the shape of his palm. "Ruby, some people come here to forget," he says, his lips grazing her ear. "I come here to remember. To remember who I am."
He lifts her onto the counter in one smooth motion and she leans back against the freezing tile as a yelp of indignation escapes her. Her feverish breath warms his cheek. "You keep me sane."
"Sanity is overrated," she laughs. "We're all mad here."
He chuckles. "Maybe your madness keeps me sane."
Her lips part to say something, but he kisses her and the words are lost, transformed into whimpers. He's kissed her before, but only now does he realize she tastes of strawberries-not the kind you buy at the market, either. The wild sort that sprouts and flourishes in the woods, against all wolves and weather and odds. He's not sure how he knows what wild fruit tastes like, but he is quite sure of her, sure that she is the only real presence in this world.
When he surfaces, he swears he sees her eyes flash a shade of gold, but then he blinks and they're hazel again, green-speckled hazel.
"I love you," he murmurs, and kisses her again. This time he doesn't let go.
Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howls as dishes are left abandoned and a bell chimes twelve times; tick, tock, it's midnight and there isn't much time 'til morning.
One | Two | Three | Four
Title: The Bell Tolls at Midnight
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Character/Pairing: Ruby/Graham
Word Count: 877
Rating: T
Summary: And the wolves come out to play
A/N: Written for onceuponaprompt, midnight. Part of the Life Ain't a Fairytale series.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
The Bell Tolls at Midnight
The clock strikes midnight.
Well, it doesn't actually strike midnight, since, you know, the clock tower doesn't actually work, but Ruby knows the time. She always knows things when there's a full moon. Something about the way it glows must sharpen her senses, Granny used to say, back when they had a good relationship.
She doesn't recall them ever having a good relationship. She's learned not to let this bother her.
Outside the moon is bright and Ruby pretends to dry dishes while she worries.
Worries because it is long past Henry's bedtime, and there is never any crime in this stagnant town.
A shiver runs up her spine, the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end, and she looks up as a car parks-screeches-out in front of the diner, headlights blinding, sirens off-as usual. She briefly wonders what felonies she would have to commit to get those sirens to whine, to wake the town.
Don't ever make it seem like you waited, warns Granny in her mind, unwavering, unwanted, unneeded. Ruby turns her attention back to the dish she's been drying for the past half hour.
The bell at the door chimes and Ruby doesn't need to look up to know it's him because she has everything about him memorized, from the tread of his boots as he tracks mud on the linoleum she's just cleaned to the sound of his jacket as he unzips it and tosses it onto the coat rack. Maybe she does have a routine memorized for everyone who frequents the diner, but only his makes her heart skip a beat.
And that scares the shit out of her.
"You're late, Sheriff."
"I'm sorry," he answers, frazzled, and then he's behind her, his arms intertwined around her waist and his lips burning, circling in patterns down her collarbone.
"I tried, but Regina-"
Ruby stiffens.
"Never mind. It doesn't matter." He kneads out the knots in her shoulders, kissing where his fingers leave off. She doesn't move. He spins her around.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
His collar is lopsided. His buttons are done up wrong. His hair is rumpled and all she wants to do is tangle her fingers in his curly locks and make it worse.
Maybe any other night she would give into his desperate charm, kick off her high heels and do things that would make Granny tut. After all, being everyone's favorite girl is what she does best. But she knows exactly why he looks so...exhausted, and while she doesn't care so much about being the only one, she has to be the one that matters.
You smell like her, she wants to say, but she doesn't.
Ruby fiddles with his collar and smooths out the creases in his shirt.
"How was she tonight, Sheriff?"
She toys with his top buttons before she undoes them and drags her perfectly manicured fingernails down his chest. He winces.
"Did she touch you like I do?" she hisses, her grin coy.
She tugs him down and catches his lips in hers. She bites, hard, and he groans and leans in, his hands tugging at her apron strings. She slaps them away.
"Did she kiss you like I do?" she purrs, and licks the metallic taste of blood from his mouth.
"Ruby," he breathes out.
She takes his hand and plants a kiss upon his palm; her scarlet lips stain his fingers. He stares, eyes wide.
"Does she love you like I do?" she whispers, soft and sweet and just a little bit scared, because she's never put her heart on the line, because somehow she always gets baited and torn.
One hand squeezes hers, his other grips her waist. When he lets go to bury his fingers in her hair, her pale skin blushes in the shape of his palm. "Ruby, some people come here to forget," he says, his lips grazing her ear. "I come here to remember. To remember who I am."
He lifts her onto the counter in one smooth motion and she leans back against the freezing tile as a yelp of indignation escapes her. Her feverish breath warms his cheek. "You keep me sane."
"Sanity is overrated," she laughs. "We're all mad here."
He chuckles. "Maybe your madness keeps me sane."
Her lips part to say something, but he kisses her and the words are lost, transformed into whimpers. He's kissed her before, but only now does he realize she tastes of strawberries-not the kind you buy at the market, either. The wild sort that sprouts and flourishes in the woods, against all wolves and weather and odds. He's not sure how he knows what wild fruit tastes like, but he is quite sure of her, sure that she is the only real presence in this world.
When he surfaces, he swears he sees her eyes flash a shade of gold, but then he blinks and they're hazel again, green-speckled hazel.
"I love you," he murmurs, and kisses her again. This time he doesn't let go.
Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howls as dishes are left abandoned and a bell chimes twelve times; tick, tock, it's midnight and there isn't much time 'til morning.
One | Two | Three | Four