#delivering a request for literal icon justqueeerious! <3

[lesbianlotties]

a one shot marla x fran fic request for the one tru queen titled “I know I'm young but if I had to choose her or the sun I'd be one nocturnal son of a gun” inspired by this beautiful lesbian fanart from twitter https://twitter.com/sombergeist/status/1382073638715801612?s=21

it took me some time but !!! here it is. i hope you like it <333

read on AO3 here.

Their bedroom was perfect. That was something both of them agreed on. They had designed it together, obsessing over every little thing until they felt they wouldn’t change a thing about it. Marla made a bigger effort on style, and Fran convinced her of splurging on their whims. So, the blonde was in charge of picking the few decorations, and the brunette insisted on the fireplace and the television. Mostly, though, it was all a joint decision. For example, Marla was an early bird, unlike her girlfriend, who requested the best curtains to keep out the sun in the mornings, but Marla got to pick the color. The bookshelf they filled together. Their favorite books, a couple of photo albums, and just the right amount of incriminating content from all the past lives they lived until they got where they are. Then, there was the bed. A magnificent thing they considered for hours in several stores until they were satisfied with the result. They barely left it during the first day it arrived at their home.

One morning, Fran was lying in that wonderful bed of theirs. Everything around her felt soft, and warm, yet not quite enough. She was alone in bed. Sun was peeking through their curtains in the careful way it did when Marla gently rustled the fabrics after her wake in hopes that her lover would rise up sooner rather than later. As her mind started to catch up with her, Fran registered the strong and familiar smell of coffee. That convinced her to open her eyes. Just a little shifting in bed and she found what she was looking for.

“Happy birthday,” Marla said as soon as her girlfriend’s sleepy brown eyes met hers. Her heart skipped a beat just watching Fran blink. Long eyelashes resting atop impeccable cheekbones for an instant. When Fran opened her eyes again, her stare was instantly sharper.

Fran grinned and snuggled deeply into their bed, then she yawned. “Morning, baby,” she sighed afterward and stretched a little. She tried not to look away, not for one second, from Marla’s beautiful smile. As fascinated as she usually was by the blonde’s shark-like grin that could conquer empires, Fran preferred that one smile. That soft tilt of lips, so close to shy that nobody else would believe Marla Grayson would ever look at anybody like that.

“How do you feel about thirty?” Marla asked, then took a sip of coffee.

The swift movement made Fran notice the love of her life was wearing only a white robe and holding on to a steaming cup of coffee. Speaking of which, there was a cup on the nightstand, waiting for her to take it. “Hm, nothing special, really,” the brunette replied, and sighed pleasurably after the first taste of the hot beverage.

Marla tilted her head, studying her. “It’s still young,” she said, almost in a whisper. She would have sounded playful to anyone but the one woman in the world that knew the exact meaning behind those teasing words.

Fran blinked. She took another sip of coffee. Then she sat up straighter in bed and stared at Marla with all that breathtaking confidence of hers that was the mythical power that years ago got to break down Marla’s walls.

“Is this the part where you try to insinuate I should leave your heinous, old, but wickedly sexy self?”

Her words make Marla actually throw her head back laughing. “You’re impossible,” the blonde said, fondly, then worked on finishing her coffee. As an answer, she only received a precious grin from the other woman.

Her love for Fran, the realest, more honest thing she had ever known, didn’t come without complications. It was a feeling that blossomed showing dozens of new layers as the months passed. First, she wanted Fran like a whim, like one more prey. Then she wanted her more fiercely, almost as a dare to herself to get over the deeper feelings she hadn’t yet acknowledged. Later, she gave in to the feeling of wanting, needing, loving Fran like the summer sun on her skin, not just vital but delightful, necessary but simultaneously a luxury. Still, there would always be a part of her that only wanted Fran as far away from her as possible. She shouldn’t have a weakness, and Fran deserved better than a barely legal life that someday would come to collect the deadly price for all their glorious sins. That, however, was the mindset of someone that feared death, the future, losing, weaknesses, and prices to pay. Marla wasn’t, Marla refused to be that person. So, she comfortably settled into that bold and devoted love the two of them had kept burning on brightly for years, and she swore to keep it burning on until the day she died.

“I got you a gift,” Marla announced, breaking out of her own thoughts.

“Oh yeah? Show me,” Fran easily replied. She abandoned her coffee mug on the bedside table and leaned in forward. Her intentions were clear.

Marla saw no choice but to indulge the birthday girl. She got up from the bed and walked closer to Fran, leaned in to kiss her, kissed her deeply, bit her lower lip… “You’ll have to wait,” she whispered.

“Why?” the brunette sighed. her fingers found the back of Marla’s neck, and she tugged on the short blonde hairs she found there.

Marla’s knees threatened to give in, so she sat down beside Fran and let their kisses continue for a moment longer until she had the words to answer. “Because the police are likely on their way here for another useless interrogation,” Marla said, pulling back with a distinctive smirk, “and since you so charmingly refused to leave me, now you’re going down with me, baby.”

This time, Marla was genuinely playful, but Fran’s reply was completely earnest. “We’re in this together,” she said, meaning every word, “Ride or die.”

“I love you,” Marla said, a little breathlessly, as if the words had just demanded to be said in that instant in specific, “more than anything, you know?” There was a small but serious frown on her forehead, and her hand cradled Fran’s jaw with the utmost adoration.

“I know,” Fran replied gently. “I love you too,” she whispered as her lips brushed Marla’s one more time.

As Marla walked away to get dressed for the day, Fran couldn’t take her eyes off her. Distantly, she noticed the police sirens in the background, and didn’t wonder too hard about the way they felt like the perfect soundtrack to Marla Grayson applying her red lipstick. It certainly wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last time that police sirens chased them or, perhaps more worrying even, worked along with them. It also wasn’t the first time that Marla had attempted to suggest Fran would be better off without her, that she should leave her and her corrupt ways.

As if she could, Fran thought with equal parts fondness and amusement. As if there was even one atom in all of her that could ever picture leaving Marla. It wasn’t even about this brilliant vision in front of her now, this methodically constructed image of a picture-perfect caring, protective, and nurturing woman about to fool the entire legal system and steal from the vulnerable. No. It all comes down to the exact feeling Fran experienced the moment she woke up and Marla was the first thing she saw. Marla in her bathrobe, with her coffee, her crystal clear blue eyes as honest as they were capable of and her smile secretly tender. At that moment Fran just knew, the world could come crumbling down, it could be heaven and hell against the two of them, life or death, and no matter what, she would choose Marla, knowing Marla would choose her as well.