#malvie

Day 4: Scar

The bathroom mirror was kinder in low light. Stevie had discovered that weeks ago. If she kept the door only half open and left the bedroom lamp on instead of the overhead light, the reflection blurred just enough that she could almost ignore it.

Almost.

She let the towel slip from around her shoulders.

The scar down her abdomen had faded from angry red to pale pink, but it still caught her eye first. It traced a line she never expected to have, a permanent reminder of the day her cyst had burst at work, of frightened faces she usually saw from the other side of a resuscitation bay.

The emergency surgery.

The mass on her ovary.

Waking to discover the surgeons hadn't just removed it — they'd removed her uterus too.

She rested her fingertips lightly against the skin.

Then her eyes drifted upwards.

The port sat beneath the skin just below her collarbone, a small, unmistakable bump. The bruising was long gone, but she still hated looking at it.

It made everything feel... visible. Like her body had become a map of everything that had gone wrong.

"You disappeared."

Stevie startled.

Mali was leaning against the bedroom door, dressed in leggings and one of Stevie's oversized hoodies, her hair curling under her chin.

"I knocked."

"I didn't hear."

"I guessed."

For a moment neither of them spoke.

Stevie instinctively folded her arms across herself.

"I know," she said before Mali could say anything. "It's stupid."

Mali frowned. "What is?"

"This," She gestured vaguely towards herself. "I look..."

The words refused to come.

Mali stepped closer, stopping just within arm's reach. "You know what I see?"

Stevie looked unconvinced.

"My girlfriend."

"Mali."

"The woman who steals my hoodies."

"They're my hoodies."

"The woman who insists coriander tastes like soap."

"It does."

"The woman who secretly cries at animal rescue programmes."

"They always find the cats homes."

Mali smiled softly.

"And the woman I happen to think is ridiculously beautiful."

Stevie's eyes dropped.

"You don't have to say that."

"I know."

"You don't."

"I want to."

Stevie swallowed. "I hate looking at myself."

The admission hung heavily between them.

"I see the scar first."

Mali nodded. "Okay."

"And the port."

"Okay."

"I don't recognise..." Stevie's voice cracked. "I don't recognise my own body anymore."

There it was. The truth she'd been carrying alone.

Mali reached for her hand rather than pulling her into a hug. "I won't tell you to love your scars."

Stevie blinked. "I'm not there yet."

"No."

"And I won't tell you they happened for a reason."

"Thank you."

"They happened because you were desperately ill."

Stevie nodded once.

"But they also happened because you lived."

Silence.

Mali lifted Stevie's hand and placed it gently over her own heart.

"This body got you here."

Then she covered Stevie's hand with hers and guided it back to the scar across her abdomen.

"This body survived surgery."

Her fingers moved carefully to the port beneath Stevie's collarbone.

"This body got through months of chemotherapy."

Tears blurred Stevie's vision. "I don't feel brave."

"I didn't say brave."

"No?"

"I said survived."

Something inside Stevie loosened.

Mali stepped closer then, giving Stevie every chance to move away.

She didn't.

Instead she let herself be gathered into warm arms, resting her forehead against Mali's shoulder.

"I miss feeling like me."

"You will."

"What if I don't?"

Mali kissed her temple.

"Then we'll learn this version together."

Stevie laughed through the tears.

"'We'll'?"

"Always."

For the first time in weeks, Stevie looked back at the mirror. The scars hadn't disappeared. Neither had the port.

Day 2: Goodbye

Morning arrived quietly, slipping through the gap in the curtains and painting pale gold across the bedroom walls. Somewhere outside, a neighbour's dog barked once before the street settled again.

Stevie was only half-awake when she felt the mattress dip.

"You should still be asleep," Mali murmured.

"I'm trying."

"You're terrible at it."

"I know."

Stevie smiled without opening her eyes. A familiar hand brushed gently through her hair, careful and unhurried, until she finally blinked herself awake.

Mali was already dressed in her ambulance greens, fleece on, boots still missing. Her curls were slightly damp from the shower, a mug of tea balanced on the bedside table where she'd undoubtedly forgotten about it.

"You look knackered," Stevie mumbled.

"I could say the same to you."

"I went back to sleep after you first got up."

"You still look knackered."

Stevie reached blindly until her fingers found Mali's wrist, tugging her down onto the edge of the bed.

"Five minutes."

"Mmm."

"You've got time."

"I've got..." Mali glanced dramatically at the clock. "Four and a half."

"Close enough."

She came willingly anyway, leaning against Stevie's shoulder. They sat in comfortable silence, wrapped in the sort of quiet that only existed when you knew someone well enough not to fill every gap.

Stevie rested her head against Mali's.

"You smell nice."

"That's shampoo. Might actually be yours."

"Still counts."

"You've set the bar incredibly low."

"It is six in the morning."

"Fair."

Stevie laughed softly, the sound still a little rusty these days. She tired more easily than she used to, even weeks after finishing chemotherapy. Most mornings she woke up feeling as though she'd run a marathon in her sleep. Today wasn't quite so bad, but her limbs still carried that familiar heaviness.

Without saying anything, Mali reached for her hand.

Her thumb traced lazy circles across Stevie's knuckles.

"How're you feeling?"

"Good."

"The actual answer."

Stevie sighed.

"...Pretty good."

"Better?"

"Better."

Mali studied her for a moment, the way she always did now — not anxiously, not hovering, simply checking in.

"I'm glad."

"So am I."

There had been months where mornings like this had felt impossibly far away. Hospital appointments. Medication alarms. Days measured in blood counts and nausea instead of ordinary things.

Now they argued over whose turn it was to buy milk.

Stevie much preferred this version of life.

"You'll text me?" Mali asked.

"When I get to work."

"And if you're tired…"

"I'll tell someone."

"And you'll eat lunch."

Stevie pulled a face.

"You've become very bossy."

"I learned from the best."

"I am not bossy."

Mali raised an eyebrow.

Stevie couldn't help laughing.

"Oh, go to work."

"I was trying."

Instead, Mali leaned forward and kissed her.

It wasn't hurried or dramatic. Just warm lips, familiar and lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

When they pulled apart, Stevie caught the sleeve of Mali's fleece.

"One more."

"You are clingy this morning."

"I've decided to embrace it."

"So brave."

The second kiss found the corner of Stevie's smile.

"I love you," Mali whispered.

Stevie didn't answer immediately. She simply looked at her, taking in the face she'd come to know so well — the sleepy eyes, the damp curls curling under her chin, the tiny crease between her eyebrows that appeared whenever she was thinking too hard.

It still amazed her that this was her life.

"I love you too."

Mali squeezed her hand once before standing, pulling on her boots by the bedroom door.

"I’ll lock myself out, alright."

"Okay."

"And don't over exert yourself."

"No promises."

"You absolutely will."

"I might."

Mali laughed as she collected her keys.

At the front door she glanced back one last time.

Stevie was still tucked beneath the duvet, hair a complete mess, smiling at her like she'd hung the moon.

The door clicked shut a moment later.

Queerfic June #13

Magic Practice Date

⚠️Trigger Warnings⚠️: F/F romance, physical affection, fantasy magic.

Ship: Mal x Evie

Fluff

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The afternoon light filtered through the stained-glass windows of Evie’s dorm room at Auradon Prep, scattering soft rainbow patterns across the floor.

Mal lounged on the plush violet couch, twirling a strand of purple hair around her finger as she watched Evie move around the room with effortless grace.

“This is supposed to be benign spells, right?” Mal asked. “Because if you make me stitch another dress with magic, I’m turning the thread into snakes.”

Evie laughed, the sound bright and warm. She spun around, her blue-and-gold outfit flaring slightly as she crossed the room with a glowing spellbook tucked beneath one arm.

“Relax, Mal. No snakes today.” She held up the book with a grin. “We’re practicing control, remember? Your powers are wild and fierce, but they could be so much more with a little flair.”

She leaned down, brushing a finger lightly against Mal’s cheek.

“And I happen to love taming wild things.”

A familiar warmth stirred in Mal’s chest. It wasn’t the chaotic green fire she’d inherited from her mother. It was something steadier. Something that only seemed to exist whenever Evie was near.

Mal caught Evie’s hand and tugged her closer until their foreheads nearly touched.

“You’re the only one I’d let try, princess.”

They started with simple illusion magic.

Evie guided Mal through basic exercises, encouraging her to imagine not just shapes, but feelings woven into the spell.

“Don’t just summon light,” Evie said softly, her hands hovering over Mal’s as green sparks danced between their palms. “Make it dance. Give it personality.”

Mal focused, brow furrowing in concentration. A burst of emerald energy flared to life. At first it crackled wildly, threatening to scatter across the room.

Before it could, Evie’s calm blue magic threaded through the spell like silk.

“Breathe with me,” Evie murmured. “Soften the edges. Add some shimmer. Think of the night sky over the Isle—but gentler.”

The sparks steadied.

Slowly, they transformed into floating lanterns that drifted around the room, casting a warm glow over the walls.

Mal blinked.

“Whoa.”

A grin spread across her face.

“It’s not exploding.”

“See?” Evie squeezed her hand. “You have incredible power. I just help give it shape.”

They spent the next hour experimenting with more creative spells.

Evie pulled enchanted fabrics from her sewing supplies, and together they practiced transfiguration magic with an artistic twist. Mal infused the cloth with protective enchantments drawn from her dragon heritage, while Evie layered shimmering designs across the material.

Golden patterns shifted like auroras.

Tiny embroidered dragons stretched their wings and released harmless puffs of glittering fire.

“You’re holding back again,” Evie said.

She stepped behind Mal, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her chin on her shoulder.

The steady rhythm of Evie’s heartbeat grounded her.

“Let it flow,” Evie whispered. “I’ll guide the colors.”

Mal closed her eyes and leaned into the embrace.

The magic surged.

But this time, it didn’t fight her.

Under Evie’s gentle guidance, threads rose into the air and began weaving themselves together.

“A little more gold,” Evie murmured.

The tapestry shifted.

“Curve that line there.”

The design transformed again.

Soon the fabric swirled through the room like living paint, weaving itself into something breathtaking.

When the final thread settled, they stepped back to admire their work.

A magnificent dragon stretched across the tapestry, coiled protectively around a radiant blue heart. Emerald fire shimmered between its scales while delicate sapphire threads wound through the design like flowing water.

The image seemed almost alive.

Strong yet graceful.

Fierce yet gentle.

Evie’s eyes sparkled as she traced her fingers across the finished tapestry.

“It’s us, Mal.”

Mal looked at the artwork, then at Evie.

A smile softened her features.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “It is.”

She pulled Evie into a hug, pressing their foreheads together.

For once, the restless energy constantly racing through her veins felt calm.

Balanced.

“You make me better,” Mal admitted. “I’ve got the power, but you give it purpose. We balance each other out. Fire and elegance. Chaos and creation.”

Evie’s expression softened.

“I think you give yourself too little credit.”

“Maybe.”

“But I like being right.”

That earned a laugh from Mal.

Evie tilted her head and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way, my dragon.”

The tapestry shimmered behind them, glowing softly in the fading afternoon light.

A reminder that the strongest magic they had ever created wasn’t a spell at all.

It was the way they brought out the best in each other.

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Clexa

Yvonne x Spencer (like I said, I nowadays see them in a polyamorous relationship with Toby)

Faberry

Dantana

Sam and Frodo

Irma and Cornelia

Stellatrix

Malvie

Vernaline

Clony

Zalex

Wenclair

Rayaari