#Beep-beep is that my bestie in a Tessie? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alinastracker · 3 years

Note

I MADE SOME BREAKFAST IF YOURE HUNGRY for my beloveds pls if u so wish

ANYTHING FOR U MY LOVE

Better Late Than Never

Mal had been half-watching a replay of the England-Scotland game, half falling asleep the previous night when his phone sent him jolting awake.

Beep-beep, is that my bestie in a Tessie? Fresh blow out, skin on tan, ooh, she ready Bitch, you look goodt, with a T at the end I'ma hype her every time, that my motherfuckin' friend

He knew from the ringtone alone who was calling, so where normally he might pause before taking a call — he'd go mental talking to one more damn scammer — Mal answered instantly, fumbling to bring the phone up to his ear.

"'Ello," he answered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He quickly checked the time on his phone and frowned. 12:30 AM. His roommate slash best friend slash unrequited love of his life never called this late. She was either already home, sitting beside him on the couch watching a bad movie, or settled in her destination for the night. Genya's. Inej's. That asshole she'd been hooking up with.

"Mal?" Alina said, her voice shaky. It sounded like she was crying.

He was up in an instance, already moving to the door, stuffing his feet into slides and grabbing his keys, any thought of sleep long forgotten.

"Send me your location."

By the time she did, he was already in the car, flooring it out of the building's parking garage. Alina was sniffling, trying to hide just how upset she was. But he knew, he always knew.

"Did he hurt you, 'Lina?"

"Mal—"

"I swear, I'll kick his ass. I can call Nikolai for backup, but I'm sure I can take him on my own."

"Can you stop being a stereotypical man for five seconds, please."

He sighed. "Right, 'course. Sorry." Mal glanced at the GPS on his phone. Thank the saints she was close. "I'm five minutes away. Do you want me to stay on with you?"

"No," Alina said, followed by another sniffle that only made him drive faster. "Just hurry. And can we get chips?"

Twenty minutes later, they were back at the flat, Alina with a McDonald's bag and chocolate milkshake in her hands. Her makeup was smeared all over her face, a mess of black smudges. How dare her, he thought, still look so fucking beautiful.

Mal had tried asking her what happened, but she'd only shaken her head.

"I don't want to talk about it," she had said, her voice so delicate that he nearly turned the car around and let toxic masculinity win this round.

Instead he took her to get her food, then drove them home. Let her lock herself in her room, and by the sounds of it, cry some more.

It was morning now and Mal was standing in nothing but his old plaid jim-jams, fixing up breakfast for the two of them. Crepes, because he knew she loved her sweets, and hash browns, just in case she still had a hankering for potatoes. He got out their old wooden serving tray they only ever used when one of them — or more often, both of them — were sick and wanted soup in bed. Mal stacked up the crepes, piled on the hash browns, bringing all the sugary syrup and wicked hot sauce she liked for the respective items, and knocked on her bedroom door.

Alina appeared a few moments later. She was still wearing last night's clothes, her hair up in a clip yet still all over the place, some of the makeup still holding out on her face. She looked tired, and he wondered how much she had actually slept.

"What's this?" she asked, the hint of a smile on her face.

Mal shrugged. "Err, I made some breakfast, if you're hungry?"

"Crepes and hash?"

He nodded.

She smiled a real smile then — the smile he liked to think she saved for him alone, but he knew better. Alina motioned for him to follow her in, and they settled on her bed together.

"This is all for me?" she asked, holding up the single fork he'd brought along. When he nodded, she laughed. "Mal, this is enough food for an army. Go get a fork, you dork." She backed up the statement by poking his side, and Mal blushed.

A moment later, he was back with a fork, and for a while, the two of them ate in silence.

When they had reached the point of only picking at the remaining food, he asked, "Do you want to talk about last night?"

Alina sighed. "I do suppose I owe you an explanation."

"You don't owe me anything," Mal said. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

She looked down, fiddling with the end of her dress. The fabric had started to bunch up, exposing so much of her thigh and — no, nope, this is not the moment, Malyen.

Blowing out a breath, she said, "I went there for a hook up. You probably guessed that. But, I don't know. When it came to actually . . . hooking up, something in me just didn't want it." She was still looking anywhere but his face. "And I told him that, and he stopped. He didn't try — it wasn't like that. But he got really, really angry. Said I had no right coming over and drinking his alcohol and dressing the way I did just to hold out. And then I started crying and he got even angrier."

Mal couldn't help it. He pushed the breakfast tray away and wrapped his arms around her. Alina relaxed against him, tucking her head under his chin. She always had been tiny like that.

"I was just really scared. So I ran out and I called you. That's it, that's all that happened. It was my fault—"

"Don't you dare," he whispered into her hair. "It's not remotely your fault, Alina. I don't care what you drank or how you dressed. You should know that more than anyone, miss self proclaimed raging feminist."

Alina laughed, and it was better than any song he'd ever heard. Just hearing her laugh after last night, after hearing how upset she had been. He hadn't really relaxed, he realized, until that exact moment, with her safe and laughing in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Mal," she said softly, taking him by surprise.

"Sorry for what?"

"For doing this to you, every time. Any mess that I get myself into, I always call you, and you're always there. Every time."

"Of course, 'Lina. You don't have to apologize." Mal swallowed the lump in his throat and hoped she hadn't noticed. "That's what best mates do, huh?"

"Right," she muttered. "Best mates."

"You don't sound very pleased with that," he teased, disguising the sting in his chest.

The room was dark for a Sunday morning, storm clouds ruining any chance for sunlight. But he could still see the look on Alina's face as she pulled back, the same look she got when she was doing something new, whether it be riding his skateboard for the first time or asking out a stranger, nervous but determined.

"You're right," she said, softly, firmly. "I'm not pleased with that."

Time was moving too fast. In a blink, Alina was closer than ever, pressing her lips to his. And like an idiot, he froze.

She pulled back when he failed to respond, disappointed but not defeated. "Sorry," she said. "There's a reason none of my hook ups have been working lately, and I just had to try."

Mal shook his head, trying and failing to form words. So he forced time to slow and kissed her instead. Softly, firmly. An exploration he had imagined so many times, and none of them held a light to the real thing.

Alina curled her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer. She was so soft, from her lips to where his hand rested on the small of her back. When she ran her tongue along his lower lip, Mal opened for her, and they moaned into each other. She tasted sweet from the syrup with the occasional lick of heat from the hot sauce. Though there was plenty of the latter between them already.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment when they finally pulled away, sucking air into their lungs. But their eyes were locked, and after all these years, they never needed words.

Alina was on him again in moments, their kiss no longer soft and sweet, but hard and desperate. Mal bit down on her lower lip, she felt her way across his bare chest, left scratches down his back when he started kissing her neck.

He's not sure which one of them kicks the breakfast tray off the bed. Maybe they both had a role. But at the sound of crashing dishes, they broke apart once more.

"Oops," Alina mumbled.

"Shit," Mal breathed. "We should probably clean that."

"Yeah, 'suppose. Ants or whatever."

A moment of silence stretched between them as neither made a move toward the mess on the floor.

"I mean, the ants won't move too fast," Mal reasoned.

"Not at all. We're on the third floor, anyway."

One look, and Mal reached for her again. Alina giggled as his mouth found her neck once more, her hand taking hold in his hair, directing him. Meanwhile, he was positive he currently had the most throbbing erection of his life. As if sensing this, Alina rolled her hips against his, and when she gasped, he knew she had felt it.

"'Lina—"

"Saints, Mal. You're . . . wow."

He was blushing again. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Why the hell are you sorry?"

"Because you were just talking about that twat pressuring you for sex! Not exactly time for the erection from hell!"

Alina laughed. "Mal, I didn't want fuck him. But I've wanted to fuck you for five years."

"Well now you tell me."

They both laughed then, and Alina pulled him into another kiss.

"Better late than never?"

Mal groaned as she rolled her hips again. "Definitely."

That morning, after living in their flat for three years, Mal and Alina got their first noise complaint.

Two Months Later

Mal was half-asleep, half-watching some shitty horror movie on a lazy Sunday afternoon, when the sound of his phone had him jolting awake.

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home You're my, my, my, my Lover

He didn't have to check before answering. Mal knew exactly who was calling.

#malina #malina fanfic #alina starkov #malyen oretsev #fanfic #writing #grishaverse fanfic #oretssev #userseva #I HOPE U ENJOY THIS MY LOVE

60 notes · View notes