Purple

The first time you see the purple magic swirling around Regina you're baffled by the response it elicits inside of you. You're supposed to hate this woman for fucks sake, but your body seems to have other ideas entirely. And maybe it's because you've already known what it's like to watch her come four times in a row, body writhing in pleasure. But also, maybe it's because it's always been a lot more than just fucking to you. The only thing that does take you off guard is the violet color her eyes turn because that's just fucking terrifying by anyone's estimate. You tear your eyes away from the sight because she's trying to save you and you do not want to be traumatized any more than you already were when you found out Mary-fucking-Margarete a.k.a Snow-fucking-White is your mother after all the not-safe-for-parent stories you shared with her. Your attention drifts to wondering whether all magic has a scent as the smell of apples wafts from Regina in your direction. And while you can't imagine Regina smelling like anything BUT apples, the disconnect between the scent and the purple baffles you even more. It's something you think you'll come back to later when you're not in immediate danger of dying what promises to be a slow and painful death unless your former — now, you think, current maybe — girlfriend can save your ass. And when this is done you think you're going to just forget all about the fact that she used to be the Evil Queen and see what else she can do with her purple apple magic that involves more lascivious behaviors.