Multi-Fandom One Shots

Poison, Savior (Marilyn Thornhill)

A deep humming echoed around the topsy-turvy ginger. Marilyn Thornhill, expert of all flora, had pricked her finger, thoughtlessly, on the tiny spikes on the stem of a Tube Dalpane, less commonly known as Malus ciliaris. She'd just wanted a leaf or sample of some sort in order to replicate it. Dalpanes didn't produce pollen, seeds, spores. As far as Marilyn could tell, Dalpanes didn't reproduce. She wanted one. 

The world Marilyn observed had a crooked pixelized blur to it. It fell down around her and she felt like she was being lifted. The redhead groaned sickly at the ill feeling. She rolled over onto her side so if she got sick, she could get it out of her mouth. Dark spots blinked in and out of her vision, which came and went. Maybe that was just her blinking. Her mind moved slowly, as if wading through tar. 

A slow clicking trickled into her sense and killer legs accented by half-plaid folded ankle boots slowly came into view. The person obviously a female knelt beside her. Bare knees turned Wednesday white as they met the hard ground. Warm hands Marilyn could hardly feel explored her throat and face. The backs of her helper's hand trailed to seek her temperature. Sure fingertips felt for swelling. One of Marilyn's useless eyes was pried open. It was near blinding after acclimating to the dark so well she didn't even realize. 

The woman limp tried to say the offending plant's name, or give instructions to save her own life. That was the worst part; Marilyn knew the antidote and she couldn't tell her attempted savior. The Nevermore teacher knew this was her end. She felt a touch on her hand. 

Yes! See the blood!

A sharp prick startled the woman until she saw a syringe on the ground before her. She felt the cotton against her chin. 

You were having quite a good day before this. Your flax seeds had come in and your best friend had just told you about her raise when you'd heard the thud in the back of the garden-greenhouse. Little did you expect one of the most beautiful, gothic women you'd ever seen to be a limp and dying victim of your favorite carnivorous plant. Luckily, you carried the antidote with you, even if the town council made the community garden start carrying it in the first aid kit. You felt the woman's pulse slow and the heat in her arm fade into 98° and her heart stopped. Your blood turned cold as you feared a delay or forgone revival. Like clockwork, the beauty was dead no longer than a minute. She wasn't even dead a minute. She didn't wake up, but you didn't expect her to. Not so soon. 

*

You paced anxiously outside the head herbalist's office. It was your office, technically, but it had recently become the recovery room for the florally poisoned. You hadn't called your mystery victim an ambulance, confident in your own abilities. But she'd yet to wake up. Maybe she was exhausted or overworked. Maybe she was dead. Or brain dead. Your mind raced in fear. 

Slow, silent breathing suddenly came up deep and healthy. At the sound, you perked up and slipped into your office. The recovering woman was moving slowly, halfway sat up, and frozen mid-blink. On the flip-side, her eyes went comically wide when you helped her sit all the way up. Next came a glass of water. You handed it over and, a hair away in case she couldn't hold it, hovered by the armrest of your couch, her bed. "How are you feeling?" Should you have called an ambulance?

A sure hand took your forearm. "Thank you." Something told you she knew exactly the danger she was in. 

You nodded, wanting to ask why she was handling you Dalpanes, but thought perhaps you shouldn't have had such a lethal plant in the community garden, multiple warning signs be damned. You slid down to sit beside her. "I didn't call 9-1-1, but I'll take you to a hospital if you feel you need it."

"If you gave me tileroot extract, you know enough to keep me safe," she responded breathlessly. 

You raised an eyebrow. "If you know the exact antidote and, therefore the plant, you do too."

The woman looked abashed, but amusedly so. "I'm Marilyn Thornhill. I'm the botany teacher at Nevermore."

The eyebrow rose to meet the 1st. "Oh, so, you're- you're-" You waved a wrist, swirling your finger. 

Marilyn shook her head, watching your gay panic too happily. "No, I'm the 1st Normie teacher as a part of their outreach program."

You nodded as if you understood anything Outcast. "That's nice, I guess. Do you like it?" You suddenly frowned in concern. 

Marilyn laughed. "Well, there's rarely a dull moment," she giggled out. 

You smiled at that. "Brightsides," you mumbled hopefully. 

The ginger smiled still, leaning back. She must've been feeling better, the ease she was moving with. "And what about you? How long have you been running the garden?" She ran the backs of her fingers up your forearm. She went back and forth, then started tracing with her knuckles. 

You shifted in your seat, feeling heat curl in your stomach. Marilyn smirked knowingly, which made the heat spread and amplify. "A- a few months. Since April."

Marilyn nodded, maternally understanding. "So you're the one who's been introducing the exotic flora. Very impressive." She raised her hand to card her fingers through your hair. Your scalp tingled at the feeling of her touch. "You're quite remarkable."

You giggled nervously, going to pull away. Marilyn gripped your shift tight. "You can't leave me alone yet," she practically scolded, tone firm. "And you know it." She slowly leaned in. "So, what shall we do with the rest of... my vulnerability?" Her eyes begged you to take advantage. 

The mere thought horrified you. Marilyn would be in a weakened state for at least another half hour and you'd never treated another human with anything other than respect. "I should get you back to Nevermore."

Marilyn nodded, her closeness nearly mashing your lips together. Still, slow as she moved, her lips grazed yours. 

The heat and intimacy coaxed your eyes shut. "I've already locked what must be locked. Can you walk?"

Marilyn- such a sexy name - nodded again, eyeing your lips. She nearly devoured you when you evaded by standing straight, fast. She took your wrist next. "I'll need help. You should hold me tight." She grinned wide, predatory.