#fern writesss

[fern-daysss]

@sapphicfromthehipweek day 1 is upon us!

Bloodlust spun her knife between her fingers, vaguely looking over the edge of the building she was on the roof of. Being only four stories up felt pathetic but she wasn't prepared to fall more than that, and she knew that Hunter was after her that night.

[2029 words]

OR, I've written an Esmeranna Villain/Vigilante AU, which you can find here on ao3 or below the cut !

Bloodlust spun her knife between her fingers, vaguely looking over the edge of the building she was on the roof of. Being only four stories up felt pathetic but she wasn't prepared to fall more than that, and she knew that Hunter was after her that night.

She had so many better things to be doing, especially when the city's 'heroes' were busy foiling her plans, but being caught off guard by a vigilante would be a bigger stumble than she could afford - especially with the Hunter's fighting style consisting of bold advances and large swings which put her at risk considering most of her movement between her bases occurred on rooftops. She couldn't get seriously hurt, otherwise it would throw a spanner in the works for the project she'd been planning for over a year, so she had no choice but to wait here for Hunter.

The project was ambitious, but the city had fallen into disrepair with a corrupt leader and the vicious heroes patrolling the streets. Somebody, sooner or later, would have to save it and that somebody just so happened to be her. Bloodlust was one of the most notorious villains in the city; wanted posters with her photo were nailed to every doorway and taped to every lamp post, the price above her head was more than most people made in a lifetime. Recently, that price had increased and she couldn't help but wonder if the heroes knew the threat she really posed to their reign of terror.

Bloodlust was going to kill the King.

But that could wait for later, right now she was waiting for Hunter to show her face so that she could get on with her night - there were important moves that she would have to make soon and this 'Hunter' character was really slowing her down.

Bloodlust put her knife away and let go of her sheathed sword handle with the other hand. If she could seem vulnerable enough then maybe Hunter would come out of her hiding place and attack. It was a risk, sure, but one she was willing to take because she knew that Hunter was young (compared to her, any mortal was young) and new to fighting so Bloodlust was certain it wouldn't be too hard to beat her in a scrap.

She waited for a few minutes but Hunter didn't show up and she was getting impatient. Recklessly she took out her communicator and checked her inbox, satisfying herself that there was nothing important, and stayed like that for a few more minutes, even sitting down. Surely only a fool wouldn't take this opportunity (even if it was a clear setup) because getting the first hit on her would be trivially easy.

It was only when she figured that maybe Hunter wasn't coming for her tonight and she started to get up that there was a large thud from behind her.

Bloodlust spun around and unsheathed her sword quicker than she could even process what was happening, coming face to face with Hunter herself.

"So you decided to turn up. You took your sweet time, you know." Bloodlust drawled, her tone flat.

Hunter took a step forward, holding her sword out in front of her. Hunter's sword was thinner than Bloodlust's; more aerodynamic and lighter, but Bloodlust preferred her own - it felt more familiar in her hands and the weight allowed her to make stronger and more vindictive swings.

"I didn't know there was a correct time to turn up, Bloodlust. Mind sharing your calendar with me so I won't miss next time?" Hunter quipped, but her tone was disengaged and she clearly had her eyes on Bloodlust and her weapons.

Bloodlust stayed still and, predictably, Hunter advanced again. They got closer and closer, circling each other like eagles, until their swords were almost touching and Hunter suddenly moved to attack.

The clash of the two swords hitting each other was loud and out of place in the still night air, and Bloodlust knew she had to end the fight soon lest a civilian saw them and alerted the heroes of her presence. If any heroes found them, the result would not be pretty.

"You better wrap this up quickly if you don't want a hero to come." Bloodlust warned offhandedly.

"Don't think you could handle a hero, Bloodlust?" Hunter poked.

She chose not to respond.

They continued the cycle of swing, block, swing, parry for the next few minutes but neither of them managed to get an upper hand in the fight and Bloodlust was beginning to worry. Suddenly, Hunter swung her sword again but managed to evade Bloodlust's block and move the blade towards her stomach.

Bloodlust was a skilled fighter and managed to dodge the sword, mostly by virtue of well trained instincts, but the split second in which Hunter held her weapon to the side after the attack was enough for her to hit it clean out of Hunter's hand.

Before she could protest or grab the sword, Bloodlust had Hunter in a headlock with a knife against her throat and her sword safely sheathed at her side.

Neither spoke for a moment.

"This is your chance, Hunter." She whispered into her ear, voice smooth and sweet like honey.

"My chance for what? You're going to kill me and leave me in an alleyway until some poor soul finds my body! I'm never going to get a chance to do anything."

"Your chance to join me. I only take the title of villain because I hate the heroes and I know you must too.” Bloodlust paused. “Why do you insist on wasting your life as a vigilante when you could be working to dismantle the system that keeps them in power?"

Hunter visibly considered the offer.

"You have a chance to do something real, you have a chance to actually change this city."

"I don't have a choice if I want to live, do I?" Hunter asked. She sounded tired, on the verge of jumping off the building herself.

"I'd let you go if you swore not to tell anyone about tonight. I don't think you'll choose that, though."

Bloodlust put her knife back in its pouch and loosened her grip on her. Hunter stood in silence, looking at her sword which had rolled to the edge of the roof and gotten caught in the gutter.

"I'd train you to fight better and I'd give you a place to live." Bloodlust said, more of a question than a statement.

After a long moment, Hunter replied.

"Alright then. Yeah. That sounds nice, Bloodlust."

Bloodlust spun Hunter around, holding onto her shoulders and looking at her directly again. Her cheeks were slightly flushed - probably, she reasoned, from physical exertion - and she had a small smile on her face. She looked unreasonably good while illuminated by the pale moonlight and Bloodlust had to quickly move to her side to stop Hunter from seeing that a blush was forming on her cheeks, which would be obvious on her unnaturally pale skin.

After a too-long pause, Bloodlust figured she might as well carry on with her plans. Hunter liked being thrown straight into action, apparently.

"There's a lot to do tonight, Hunter, and as my new Henchwoman I suggest-"

"Henchwoman? I didn't agree to that," she interrupted, her voice gaining emotion at record speed, "you really need to make this deal clearer, Bloodlust."

Gently grabbing Hunter's chin and turning it towards herself, Bloodlust purred out her next words,

"Hunter, would you like to be my new Henchwoman?"

Hunter took a moment to think, but Bloodlust already knew her answer.

"You would make such a pretty accessory, wouldn't you? I bet you'd-"

"Yes, yes I'll be your Henchwoman. Bloodlust, you're going to kill me." Hunter blurted out, flustered.

Bloodlust leaned forward and left a small kiss on the other's cheek, something that could be brushed off as friendly, before realising that she also left a bright red lipstick stain. Really solidified the whole Henchwoman deal.

"Good, good, now let's get to business." She murmured, trying to get both of them back on track.

Bloodlust grabbed Hunter's arm and pulled her along the rooftop, wanting to regain a sense of order and realising that she had things to do.

"Where are we going?" Hunter asked. If Bloodlust thought about it, yeah, her face was definitely more flushed than before.

"To get a few supplies and steal some documents that we need. Are you in?"

"You're taking me on a heist?" Bloodlust nodded. "That's so hot."

(Tonight was going to be a long night. Bloodlust realised that she didn't mind in the slightest.)

*

Walking down the stairs that led to Bloodlust's secret evil lair (Hunter's words, not hers) the pair were engaged in conversation about their shockingly successful robbery.

"What do these documents have in them, Bloodlust? I forgot to ask earlier."

'You don't have to keep calling me that, you know. My name is Esmeralda. Unless there are others around, Bloodlust is awfully formal, sweetheart "

"Esmeralda." Hunter whispered, eyes gleaming. "That's a beautiful name. It suits you well."

"Thank you darling." Esmeralda grinned, relishing in the praise.

"I'm Anna by the way. I would've told you earlier, but I forgot to mention it."

"Anna." She liked the way the word felt in her mouth, and Esmeralda had the feeling that she could get used to saying it. "Very fitting. Gorgeous, just like you."

Anna blushed, but managed to divert the topic since they'd just made it to the bottom of the staircase. The 'evil layer' was a large room with two doors at the back and a carpet down the middle. It looked like it had at some point been some sort of a warehouse but Esmeralda had managed to make it look very glamorous, fit for crime planning. She stood for a second, taking the room in.

There was a glittering chandelier hanging from the ceiling, right in the centre of the room. To its left was a table with blueprints laid out on it, crafted to look like a pool table and surrounded by intricately carved and gilded bookshelves.

To the right, a glamorous looking red velvet sofa was pushed up against a wall with a large map of the city behind it. Certain areas were circled and highlighted and Anna could see what looked like some routes across rooftops marked, but she was sure there was plenty of time to ask about that later.

There were black velvet cushioned stools on either side of the sofa, which each held a terribly intricately decorated vase - one painted with a small dagger in red and the other with a rose in black. Neither vase had any flowers in it.

Esmeralda was already dragging Anna to the doors on the other side of the room before she could think to ask any questions about them, so Anna decided to leave it be and look at what Esmeralda was showing her.

"This room," she started, pointing to the left door, "is my bedroom. We will sleep there later."

Anna looked at her pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

"I have bunk beds. Don't go getting ideas into that head of yours." Esmeralda said, mock-sternly, as she tapped Anna's head to emphasise her point.

"What's that room then?" Anna asked, once again trying to change the topic.

"The storage room. Don't go in there unless I tell you to; a lot of weapons are kept in there and we wouldn't want you getting hurt now would we?"

Anna laughed softly, unsure of whether the question was rhetorical or not.

Esmeralda clicked her fingers a few times and chewed on her lip, seemingly thinking.

"Right. I have a lot to show you. Let's get to it."

*

The two studied blueprints and shared ideas together for hours, and for once Esmerelda's 'lair' was filled with laughter and chatter unlike its usual cold silence.

They had fun planning fantastical ways to take down the heroes, and if they both stole extra glances at each other and thought too hard about the lipstick stain still on Anna's face, then that was nobody's business but theirs.

[fern-daysss]

@sapphicfromthehipweek day 7!

The day that Butch had gifted her the record, Annabelle had run into their arms and hugged them until they had to drop her because they couldn't breathe.

Pure Annabutch fluff for the soul <3

{song: heaven is a place on earth by Belinda Carlisle}

[1406 words]

Read here on ao3 or under the cut!

The day that Butch had gifted her the record, Annabelle had run into their arms and hugged them until they had to drop her because couldn’t breathe. It was instantly her favourite record, and when she insisted on playing and replaying it Butch couldn’t help but feel a bit proud that the album they’d bought was her favourite.

Butch also loved the album, not because they cared much for music but because it reminded them of Annabelle every time they heard it playing from the living room when they visited her house, and every time they heard it play in the shopping mall or leisure centre.

They felt lightheaded every time they thought of Annabelle - even though they weren’t uselessly pining anymore, they weren’t any less in love with her as their girlfriend - and hearing her favourite songs reminded Butch of the way Annabelle would sing and dance, and how beautiful she was when she let herself get carried away by the melody.

*

Ooh, baby, do you know what that’s worth?

Ooh, heaven is a place on earth

It was their first real date - not robbing a bank, not walking aimlessly through a local park, not spending nights awake and whispering to each other until the sun rose and they would fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

Mr Parker had insisted on giving them a ‘proper first date’ that he would organise and they’d all landed on a restaurant date. Unfortunately, there weren’t any good restaurants in town that would be nice (or safe) to go on a date in so he’d decided to organise it himself in their house. He brushed off any concerns about his ‘incredible’ cooking, and the two had resigned themselves to an evening of eating overcooked pasta - it would only be bearable because they were together.

The table in front of Butch had a large white cloth draped over it and a vase of blood red roses in the centre, and they thought absentmindedly that they really had to thank him for setting it all up. Between the dimmed lights, the quiet music and the flickering candles, the atmosphere was incredible but the only thing in the room that they were really focused on was the girl sitting across from them.

Annabelle was gorgeous. She wore a bright red dress that the two had picked out together a few days prior and had a matching red lip - which, Butch thought, made her smile look even more beautiful. They’d never seen her wear bold makeup like it before (and, quite honestly, didn’t know where she’d gotten it from) but after the dinner was over they were going to politely request that she did it more often because god, it was making them blush.

They say in heaven, love comes first

We’ll make heaven a place on earth

“How’re ya feeling, handsome?”

Butch stared at her dumbly for a few more seconds before replying.

“Your pa’s done a real good job with the setup here! I’m- yeah, I’m feelin’ good.” They smiled shyly and glanced down at the table for a split second.

“You’re not nervous are ya Butch?”

“Nervous? Well, when you’re as beautiful as you are tonight Annie it’s hard not t’ be.”

Annabelle grinned at their response, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and standing up. Careful to not let her hair near any of the candles, she leaned across the table and planted a small kiss on Butch’s nose and watched in satisfaction as their blush only deepened.

“Annie! You can’t just do that to a person!” Butch exclaimed indignantly, albeit quietly because they didn’t want Mr Parker to them.

“Sorry Butch, I think I jus’ got too lost in your eyes.” She giggled.

Butch giggled quietly at their girlfriend’s antics, watching as Annabelle tilted her head and smiled to herself.

“Y’know, sometimes I think that I love you even more every time I see ya.” she said softly, barely audible over the music in the background.

“I think I feel the same ‘bout you Annie,” Butch almost-whispered, just loud enough for her to hear them, “I feel like I’m falling for you all over again every day. I wouldn’t trade the feelin’ for the world.”

Ooh, heaven is a place on earth

Before Annabelle could respond, her dad walked in with their meals - predictably, two plates of rigatoni and tomato sauce - and served the two. He’d put a few basil leaves and some parmesan on each dish, a touch that Butch appreciated if only because it made the dinner feel more ‘official’, like something they might find in an actual restaurant.

“Thank you Mr Parker.” Butch obliged.

“Thanks papa,” Annabelle echoed, “love you.”

“Love you too Annabelle, and have a lovely evening you two. I’ll give you some space, if you need me I’ll be upstairs.”

“Alright pa!” she replied impatiently, shooing him away.

“Just make sure you stay out of trouble.” He warned as he walked towards the stairwell.

“We will!” Butch promised, grinning at Annabelle.

*

They two spent the rest of the evening chattering while they ate, making stupid jokes and singing together, content just being in each other’s company. Inevitably, the evening ended and dusk came and went.

*

The sky outside was dark. Butch looked out of the small window and into Annabelle’s garden, where they saw a glimpse of the full moon.

“Annie,” they whispered, “do you want to stargaze together?”

She looked deep into Butch’s eyes in the dim light of the room, and nodded her head softly.

“That sounds lovely, Butch.”

When the night falls down

I wait for you to come around

And the world’s alive

With the sounds of kids on the street outside

As they wandered outside, both of them had their eyes transfixed on the sky above. Thousands of stars glowing bright white against the inky black background, so intricate and perfectly placed, a brief and beautiful glimpse into an entire universe.

Butch gazed up in awe, slowly taking in the sight before them. They realised, quite suddenly, that even with a whole galaxy laid out before them for the first time in their life they would rather be just where they were. With Annabelle.

They look slightly to their side, glancing over at her and revelling in her awed expression. Annabelle was transfixed on the sky, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide in shock of its excellence.

Butch was content to watch Annabelle’s face morph from shock to wonder to something with a hint of fear and back again, simply taking joy in seeing her face wear so much expression. They stayed like that for a while, until Annabelle eventually noticed her partner.

“Butch! Look at t’ stars! They're so magical, they look like summat right out of a story. They remind me of you a little.”

When you walk into the room

You pull me close and we start to move

And we're spinnin’ with the stars above

And you lift me up in a wave of love

Butch wrapped her in a tight hug in lieu of a response, only letting go when Annabelle squirmed out of their grip.

“Butch, let's stargaze. It would be just like in those movies,” she giggled, “we could be just like Lucy and George.”

Butch sighed, exasperated by Annabelle’s infatuation with terrible romance movies, but gave up on their annoyance quickly and laughed along with Annabelle. It would be nice to be just like the couples in movies.

They let themselves be pulled along by their wrist, further into Annabelle’s garden. Their shoes were already wet with dew and they were nearly shivering from the cold, but they didn't protest when she laid down on the lawn and quietly lay down next to her.

Butch breathed out slowly, letting their heartbeat sync with Annabelle's and watching their breath condense in the cold air and drift away above them. They gently took hold of her hand, almost letting themself get lost in the stars.

A year ago, if you'd asked them they would've said that they could never comprehend something as vast as the universe but now, with Annabelle by their side, they felt like they were maybe beginning to understand things that were larger than their life.

Ooh baby, do you know what that's worth?

Ooh, heaven is a place on earth

They say in heaven, love comes first

We'll make heaven a place on earth

[fern-daysss]

@sapphicfromthehipweek day 5!

Bella's almost lifeless body lay on the floor, blood pooling around her head where she was shot.

-Bella's final thoughts.

This is romantic, and I will die on that hill

[1283 words] +obligatory @solar93 tag

Read here on ao3 or below the cut!

Bella’s almost lifeless body lay on the floor, blood pooling around her head where she was shot.

She could vaguely hear her bitch husband saying something about Jimmy, but she could barely process what had happened and he sounded very far away. He was moving further away each second.

Suddenly, Bella was in complete darkness and silence.

Her whole life flashed before her eyes, right up to the gunfight where it all got a bit blurry. The very real notion of her death hit her like a brick.

She didn’t deserve to die. Sure, she was a bad person and a worse mother but there was still something innately human inside of her that couldn’t be said about her father or any of his cronies.

Her human side was weak and pathetic, something she’d come to resent - too easy to dig a knife into and draw blood from. She’d hated how she was born for too long. Unfortunately, no matter how hard she prayed or how many stars she wished on, every day she woke up and knew that she was still made of flesh and bones.

Her human side had other weaknesses too, ones that her father would exploit and extort. As she was mentally rifling through all of her memories before her inevitable end, she got stuck on one particular image. Someone she’d once loved laying on the floor, writhing in pain, and her father standing and watching.

*

Gemma had soft, mousy brown hair that Bella liked carding her fingers through whenever she was anxious. Even after they drifted apart, Bella found herself subconsciously smoothing over her own hair whenever she felt that all-too-familiar stomach drop and it would always remind her of the woman she’d loved. The woman she still did love.

Gemma used to scrunch up her nose when she was trying to hold in a laugh, and she hated how Bella would call the expression cute. Even when she was gone, Bella would still find herself thinking of Gemma whenever she saw Jimmy scrunch his nose in disgust at a vegetable he didn’t want to eat.

Gemma would snap her fingers when she was thinking, and it would endlessly annoy Bella when they lived together. When Bella was alone - not alone in a room, but the real kind of alone where there was no one in her life she truly loved - just something like a tap on the window would remind her of Gemma and the sounds of their old home.

*

The image wouldn’t leave her mind. She begged her brain to remember a time when she and Gemma were happily in love; buying each other flowers, going on a date, moving in together or anything else that was sickly sweet so that when they found her body, there might be a discernable smile on her face. Her brain did no such thing. It was just the image of Gemma crying because of the pain in her stomach, and her father’s bruised knuckles.

*

“Where do you want to live?”

Bella grinned at the question, scared at how easy it was to fall headfirst for the idea of spending forever with Gemma.

“With you,” she said, always a little too honest, “other than that I don’t mind.”

“We have to decide if we want to live in the states or here first.” Gemma gestured around herself.

Bella sighed. She didn’t know how her father would react to the idea of her leaving, and she wasn't ready to find out. She couldn’t stand living in New York and knowing that he was close, but she didn’t think she could deal with his ‘consequences’ for trying to leave.

“I’ll ask my father about moving here when we visit mine. I think the weather here is better.” The lie was obvious, but Gemma didn’t correct her.

“I’ll help you. You don’t have to be alone, ever again. You know that right?”

Bella nodded, suddenly unable to respond.

*

His face was twisted into a horrible expression, grinning at Gemma’s pain. Bella wanted nothing more than to see him in agony, to see him in Gemma’s place and have her love safe in her arms. Unfortunately, she’d never gotten what she wanted.

Bella hated him more than anything else on earth. If she could squeeze her hand around his neck until his face turned red, then purple, then stopped changing at all, she would - she would choke him until he was wheezing and gasping and begging for air, and she would fucking enjoy it.

*

They were sitting at a small garden table, tucked away behind a few trees in their local park. The leaves rustled in the gentle, early autumn breeze and the sounds of kids playing in the nearby fields faded into the background when Bella looked into her girlfriend’s eyes.

“Happy anniversary, darling.” Gemma said, smiling.

Bella grinned back.

“I can’t believe it’s been four whole years. I still remember the first day we met, and the girl who was too afraid to talk to me.” she teased, watching Gemma wince slightly at the embarrassing memory. “These four years have been incredible.”

They’d been the best years of Bella’s life, and she wanted to spend all of the rest of her meaningless time on this earth with Gemma too.

“I love you. As embarrassing as that day was, I would never take back meeting you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Bella’s heart ached, because the words were all too true. Her eyes stung, and she had to physically stop the tears from streaming down her face because she was not going to cry in public.

She had so many words to say, and no sentences to say them with. Instead of babbling nonsense, she simply reached out a hand for Gemma to take.

“I love you too.”

The two spent the rest of the afternoon sitting amongst the shrubbery, walking through the park and picking flowers for each other in a haze of love. As the sun slowly sank below the skyline and afternoon bled into evening, they finally walked towards the park’s exit.

Their hands were laced, and Gemma had an oxeye daisy tucked behind her ear.

“It’s so unfair that evening has to come.” Bella breathed out into the cold autumn air.

Gemma laughed giddily, squeezing Bella’s hand and pulling her through the small, rusted gate and into the street outside.

“It doesn’t matter, Bella. We’re going to spend forever together, we can go to the park again tomorrow.”

The two looked into each other’s eyes, taking a moment to process the idea of a lifetime spent with the other.

“Yeah, let’s do that my love.”

A withered brown leaf fell to the floor in front of them.

The pair looked up towards the nearby treetops with leaves that were golden and umber and rusty brown, watching another slowly fall down.

*

Bella couldn’t stop thinking about everything that she hated. She hated that Gemma had left her, she hated her father and she hated herself. She hated that she still had a beating heart in her chest that yearned for Gemma every day she’d been gone.

Her heartbeats faded beyond recognisability, and her skin began to turn cold.

Just like that, Bella had spent the final few moments of her life in the same way she’d spent the rest of it - full of hatred and resentment. She’d opened Pandora's box and let the diseased thoughts out, let herself become infatuated with anger and she’d barely given any thought to the poor, damaged butterfly at the bottom.

Her final heartbeat was dedicated to Gemma, the only person she’d ever really loved.

[fern-daysss]

@sapphicfromthehipweek day 3!

"Juno." she said quietly. "I thought it was a pretty name."

[1641 words]

OR, Angelina helps her wife find out who she really is.

Read here on ao3 or below the cut!

"Juno." she said quietly. "I thought it was a pretty name."

She stared up into Angelina's eyes, her angel, and wished more than anything that she would see a bout of approval from her wife. It was such a simple thing, just a name suggestion, but it felt like she was holding her beating heart in her hands and offering it up to the woman above her; like she'd just told her deepest secret.

Angelina had a small (pitiful) smile on her face and nodded at the name (probably, she reasoned, because she hated the suggestion and wanted to spare her wife's feelings.)

"That was a stupid suggestion sorry," she mumbled "I don't know why-"

But she couldn't get any further before she was wrapped in a tight hug and pushed firmly against Angelina's chest, effectively smothering her mouth and slowing her streak of self- deprecating thoughts. They stood in that embrace for a few long moments before Angelina loosened her grip and lowered her head just enough to whisper in her ear:

"It is a pretty name. Juno is a gorgeous name and it suits you well, I love it."

(Maybe she was lying to make her feel better. Would her wife lie about that twice in a row?)

"I honestly do."

"Do you really? Angel, you don't have to save my feelings." There was an embarrassing voice crack halfway through the sentence and she hated that it showed the doubt she had in her wife.

"Yes. Really. It certainly is not a stupid name and if anyone ever tells you that it's silly I'll gladly do to them what I did to my father."

She spoke with such assertion that the shorter woman had no trouble believing her, and it put her mind to rest. She did like the name Juno, and so did her wife. She looked back up into Angelina's eyes and saw nothing but love in them this time.

When Angelina cupped her face and kissed her, it was finally Juno who kissed back.

*

"I don't know, Angel. Maybe dresses aren't for me."

Juno blushed slightly as Angelina held her shoulders and tilted them slightly to the left, trying to help her get a better feel for the dress. It was Juno's first time trying one on (properly, not just as a joke in which the punchline was that she would never be able to really dress like this) and-- it felt weird. The euphoric bliss that she was looking for, like what she felt when her hair grew out, was hidden under layers of embarrassment and shame. Wearing anything more feminine than a kilt made Juno distinctly uncomfortable and she wasn't sure why.

"That's quite alright darling, would you like me to get a skirt for you to try or do you want to call it quits for the day?" Angelina asked, unphased.

It didn't make any sense to her. When Juno imagined what she wanted to look like she'd picture herself in long, flowing dresses and ball gowns, so why did wearing a dress make her skin crawl?

The dress was simple, just a plain white frock that stopped at her shins (it stopped at Angelina's knees but she wouldn't let that bother her) and it had little detail. Both of them agreed that trying on a plain dress would be a better first step than something difficult or uncomfortable and they'd landed on the sundress when looking through Angelina's wardrobe.

Looking back in the mirror in front of her, Juno turned to the side, tilted her hips, crossed her arms and sighed. No matter what she tried, the fabric of the dress didn't frame her like she'd wanted - it was loose around her chest and exposed her boxy shoulders, the waistline sat just below her hips and let the skirt fall down flatly, just high enough to show some of her wiry leg hair.

"Juno? Are you in there?" Angelina whispered gently as she slowly came to wrap her arms around her wife's shoulders.

She didn't answer. Nothing felt right, like she was betraying herself by daring to think that the reflection she saw in the mirror wasn't the woman she thought she was. The dress began to feel claustrophobic and itchy as she worked herself up.

"Juno?"

"It's not the dress, Angel, it's me. I'll never look right wearing a dress." Juno sighed, but her wife prompted her to keep talking. "I'll never look in the mirror and see a real woman looking back at me." Juno confessed, staring at her feet. Tears were forming in her eyes and blinking them back was futile so she let them roll slowly down her cheeks.

Angelina pulled both of them back into the chair behind her, positioning Juno on her lap and pulling her into a tight hug. Juno was properly crying now, her body shaking from the force of her visceral sobs, babbling nonsense and apologies to the woman above her. Angelina made a point not to try and reason with Juno while she was in this state, just holding her and murmuring sweet, affectionate words into the space around them until Juno's crying slowed down.

"It's okay honey, you can let it all out, I'm here for you." She whispered.

Juno looked up at her angel with her red-rimmed eyes, tears still wandering down her face, and smiled softly.

"Th- thank you. I love you" she choked out before burying her face back in the crook of Angelina's neck.

"I love you too, beautiful." Angelina replied.

She waited for a moment to make sure Juno had gathered herself before asking:

"Juno?"

"Yes?"

"You don't have to look like you were born a woman to be one. You don't have to play pretend and get disappointed when your body doesn't fit the image you have in your head. You are a woman already, and I'm so lucky to have you as my wife."

Juno sat silently for a minute, letting her head swim in the words, and process what Angelina had said. Eventually, she looked back up at her wife and asked a question.

"Was it the same for you when you realised you were a woman? Did you also feel like you were faking it at first?"

"Yeah, mostly." Her wife replied. It was Angelina's turn to look unsure, digging up the part of herself that she had tried for so long to hide from everybody. "It was not exactly the same, I was more worried that other people would think I was pretending to be a woman. I didn't see myself as one for a long time, though."

Juno let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. If Angelina - the most confident, gorgeous, heavenly, loving woman on earth - once felt the same as her, she had a small glimmer of hope that one day she could hold herself the same way her wife did. The future began to seem brighter.

*

"This one's beautiful, don't you think?" Juno asked, walking over to where Angelina was crouched over a patch of crocuses.

She stood holding a freshly picked daffodil.

"I think it would look lovely in the jam jar that you keep on the windowsill, darling." Juno added.

Angelina turned her head to face her wife, looking at the flower she was holding and nodding her head in approval.

"You should pick a couple more of those, I think we could put together a lovely little arrangement if I went and picked some hyacinths and tulips for us."

Juno's face broke out into a grin and she nodded eagerly, skipping down the path to go and collect more flowers.

The two were in a lightly wooded area nearby their house because Juno had bugged her wife to go flower picking ever since the first day of spring, and Angelina had eventually relented. She agreed that it was a fun way to spend an afternoon together and that their house could do with a pop of colour every so often. It ended up being more fun than she'd anticipated, and Angelina was reluctant to admit that she was already looking forward to arranging the flowers when they got home.

Angelina slowly got up, making sure not to forget the wicker basket she'd brought, and picked her way through the woods while trying not to tread on any flowers. She was sure she'd seen some hyacinths off in this direction... there they were! A small patch of blue and pink hyacinths in full bloom growing together by the foot of a birch tree - they were practically begging to be picked.

Humming to herself, she methodically snapped their stems right where they met the earth and collected them in the basket that was hanging from her arm. Just as she was finishing up, she heard footsteps behind her and turned around to find Juno, grinning just as wide as before.

She was holding a small bunch of daffodils in her left hand and a few pink tulips in her right.

"Sorry angel, I couldn't find you earlier and decided to pick the tulips myself. I figured you probably wouldn't mind."

She gently placed the flowers in the basket and began to walk carefully back to the path that they were on, Angelina in tow.

"They're lovely, Juno. Thank you for taking me out here, by the way, I really enjoyed it." She confessed, embarrassed by her previous reluctance.

"I'm so glad you enjoyed it! We could come back here when the hellebores and peonies are in bloom if you wanted?" Juno offered, reaching the path and stepping aside to let Angelina follow her.

"That sounds nice." Angelina answered honestly.

Juno took a step forward and went up on her tiptoes to plant a small kiss on Angelina's lips.

"Love you, angel."

"Love you too, Juno.”

[fern-daysss]

@sapphicfromthehipweek day 2!

Amanda had her head rested on the kitchen table, slowly drifting off.

"Hey idiot, breakfast's almost ready!" Clarissa yelled from across the room, just loud enough to wake her from whatever sleepy trance she was in and get her to splutter out a response.

[1501 words]

OR, diwives domestic fluff, and how it affects Amanda.

Read here on ao3, or below the cut!

Amanda had her head rested on the kitchen table, slowly drifting off.

"Hey idiot, breakfast's almost ready!" Clarissa yelled from across the room, just loud enough to wake her from whatever sleepy trance she was in and get her to splutter out a response.

"Oh thank god, I'm so hungry! I'll lay the table. What cutlery do we need?"

Amanda, being the ever the helpful girlfriend that she was, and got up quickly to give Clarissa all the help that she needed before promptly realising that the cutlery was already on the table and she in fact had the slight imprint on her forehead of the fork she'd almost fallen asleep on.

Clarissa just grinned at her in response.

"You're so cute when you're confused, you know that babe?"

"You've mentioned it before." Amanda responded with her best deadpan expression and monotonous voice.

Unfortunately her best was not very good, because the two broke out in uncontrollable giggles seconds later and Clarissa was soon folded over and laughed herself to breathlessness. Amanda had to rush over and turn off the hob before their food burned, using the spatula which was laid out to serve the eggs and bacon into separate plates.

The plates were from Clarissa’s mother - both lovely, intricate pieces of china that she’d picked up in Italy in the 70s and had handed down to the girls a few years prior when they moved in together.

She rushed over to put both plates on the table before pulling out Clarissa's chair and waiting for her to sit down.

"M'lady." Amanda joked, curtseying as she moved to go and sit in her own seat.

The two ate in relative silence, both too hungry to try and make proper conversation, other than the occasional appreciative hum from Amanda because her darling girlfriend had taken the time to make them both a cooked breakfast. Amanda felt like she fell a little more in love with Clarissa every day.

When the two had finished up, Amanda insisted on washing the dishes because Clarissa had cooked, snatching them out of her girlfriend’s hand (then planting a little kiss on her nose because she felt bad.)

“Alright, I’ll be in the garden then - come out when you finish because there’s horsetail in the flowerbeds and I need your help to pull it all out.”

“I already came out!” Amanda sighed, “but I guess I can do it again, just for you honey.”

Clarissa skipped towards the back door, giggling at the stupid joke and muttering to herself about the woes of having to weed their garden.

Amanda took her time with the dishes and quietly sung the tune of a song that Clarissa had played to her a few days ago, swishing her head back and forth in time with its rhythm and cringing when she completely missed one of the notes halfway through.

But if you fall in love with a girl

She’ll make you feel like the world is on your shoulder

When she’s holding your hand

The first time you kiss you’ll smell lilacs on her lips

Absently, she thought about Clarissa’s favourite lip balm - the one she’d bought her a few years ago on her birthday and the one she smelled every time they kissed - it was rose scented. Every time Amanda walked by a rose she spent a few seconds to smell it and think about her girlfriend, which had become a habit that she didn’t even notice until they were walking back from a dinner date a few months ago and Clarissa pointed it out. She continued with the habit consciously, because it gave her more reasons to think about her girlfriend.

Enough’s enough, find your pearl

And fall in love with a girl

She dried the plates and put them back in the cupboard, wandering into the garden and grabbing some gloves for herself. Amanda liked weeding because it was a repetitive task which didn't take too much mental energy, and because if she complained enough she could convince Clarissa to do it with her.

Eventually, it had become a routine for the two to spend sunny (or otherwise) afternoons together keeping their back garden above board when both of them were free. It would never look like a garden that you would see on the front of a magazine and it would never look perfect, but the time that the two would spend together made it one of their favourite places.

Each flowerbed with slightly wonky rows of flowers was a testament to their love and the small vegetable patches told a story of a life that would be spent together - more often than not, Amanda wanted to spend forever in their garden.

When she spotted Clarissa behind the large cherry tree in the corner of the garden, Amanda realised that she wasn’t doing much weeding and walked over to (lovingly) reprimand her and force her to join her with the task.

“Honey,” She called out, “we have to weed this garden at some point, you can’t hide there forever.”

“Come here ‘Manda! I have a gift for you~!” Clarissa yelled back, joyfully.

Out of sheer curiosity, she walked behind the tree and immediately had a small bouquet of flowers shoved in her face. The first flower that Amanda saw was a large red rose in the centre.

“Toby from next door saw me smelling the roses and said I could have one, and it made me think of you so I got a few flowers from the park and a few from our garden so that you could display them in the windowsill!” she explained excitedly, grinning.

“That’s so sweet sugar, they look beautiful. I’ll put them in a vase now because heaven knows the poppies will wilt in a few minutes in this heat. Love you sweetie.”

“Love you too, baby.”

After planting a small peck on her girlfriend’s forehead, she practically bounced back into the house with the bouquet in hand and admired the deep red carnations and the scarlet tulips (god knows where Clarissa got them from at that time of year, the woman worked wonders.) Every flower was some shade of red other than the lilacs which were a makeshift tie that held the bunch together.

Carefully, she placed them to the side of their sink and filled up a clean jam jar with water - their only proper vase already held a bunch of fake flowers that Clarissa kept in her room - then she put the bouquet in it and positioned the jar on the windowsill that looked out on their garden.

She could see her girlfriend making a heart shape with her hands at her through the window, and she blew a kiss back.

“Amanda?”

That wasn’t right. The voice - Clarissa’s voice - sounded like it was right next to her, but Clarissa was outside. In their garden.

A hand was on her shoulder, shaking it gently.

“‘Manda? Are you awake?”

Lifting her head from her hands and looking around the room, Amanda let out a weary sigh. She’d fallen asleep in Clarissa’s room just before Clarissa and Mark’s second date. Clarissa - her best friend. Right.

"Do you think Mark would prefer this outfit," she turned her phone around to show Amanda a photo. Amanda's eyes were glossed over, barely even seeing what was on the screen, "or this one?"

She rubbed at her sleepy eyes and glanced at the pictures.

"You look gorgeous in both honey, I'm sure he'll like either."

"But you need to pick one! You know I can't make decisions without you 'Manda." Clarissa pouted.

“The first one. It brings out your eyes and if you wear it with your gold hoops you’ll be stunning. Mark will love whatever you wear, though.”

“Thanks Ammy! You’re the best!”

Clarissa bounded over to the other side of the room, looking happier than she had in months. Amanda knew she was made for so much more - so much more than her and so much more than Mark. Clarissa deserved everything she ever wanted, she deserved her name in lights and the whole world worshipping her, she deserved to be <em>so much</em>, until she eventually eventually exploded in a supernova and left behind nothing but memories that smelled of saccharine honey.

Clarissa was made to run and run until there was nowhere else her legs could carry her, she was made to quietly walk around a swarming city and watch the people around her, she was made to find her prince charming and stare deep into his eyes forever, never breaking their gaze. Neither of them would ever be her prince charming.

Amanda put her head back in her hands and tried to ignore Clarissa running from her wardrobe to her dresser to her bathroom. She wished she could fall asleep again, and she tried to ignore the tacked on thought that she didn’t want to wake up afterwards. When she was dreaming, at least one version of her could be happy.

[fern-daysss]

Oksy I finally found my way out of the torture labyrinth 👍 so here's the fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/76135946/chapters/199236611

(aromantic Clarissa and uh . Summary. Yup)

[fern-daysss]

Third Time's the Charm // chapter 2

For group 10 of the improv fic, @kloudien @frenchtoastbuzzbuzz @floofmoon

1093 words

Fire crackled around them, offering flickering light to ease the all-consuming darkness. A small flame jumped at his feet and licked at his skin and he jolted back, yelping. Eventually, you'd get used to the heat. John David had been in Hell for a total of four days and had not, in any way, acclimatised to the scalding feeling of being eternally burnt alive.

He sighed, and the flames danced under his breath. He looked over at Maureen.

She seemed completely fine, and her polite smile never wavered. While he'd been gone, about five and a half days between the two times he'd been revived, she seemed to have become accustomed to the never ending torture that surrounded them. Or maybe she'd always been ready for it, he didn't know.

He slumped onto a rock, grateful enough to have somewhere to sit that he barely cared if it was uneven and jagged or not.

"Do you think you'll be able to get out again?" Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper over the sound of screaming souls nearby.

"I don't know. Alice should be able to save me, I hope."

She nodded, eyes stuck to the ground and chewing on her bottom lip.

"Will you be allowed out again?"

He chuckled.

"I was allowed out on a technicality the first time, and last time they barely had enough time to register me before I got pulled back."

The fires crackled, spitting embers at him.

"But- they know you're not the serial killer of Wolverhampton now. You're filed as such, Beelzebubette made sure of that." She took in a deep breath. "So why're you still down here?"

His face fell at record speed.

"I'm not down as the serial killer anymore? I thought I was still-" He got up from the rock and began to pace back and forth. He didn't flinch when his legs brushed the fire again. "-no. No, no, no. This can't be right. No, no-"

She grabbed onto his shoulders, shaking him out of his trancelike state. Grip tightening, she looked into his eyes and asked the same question again:

"Why're you still down here?"

Neither of them spoke for a few long, tense seconds.

They say eyes are the windows to the soul and looking into John David's eyes in that moment, Maureen knew that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Fire raged around them, hotter than before.

"What did you do?"

**

"Nothing."

She huffed out an impatient breath, tapping her foot on her bedroom floor.

"Nothing else? Not even a cat o-"

"Hah. No." His voice boomed out, echoing around inside her head. Her ears were ringing.

She'd never had to reason with the devil before and, well, he wasn't a very reasonable guy. Her books talked of him as sly, as a trickster, but at that moment he was being very transparent with her. He wanted her soul.

"Look," He started, "I have a board meeting in a few minutes. If you can't ge-"

"I'll kill someone."

She hated how desperate she sounded, how quickly she was willing to offer that. I'll kill someone, like it was nothing. Her hands trembled as she imagined gripping the cold handle of a knife in them.

She was begging for mercy from the Devil himself, God save her.

"No."

The word was like a stab in her gut.

"I want your soul. Do we have a deal?" His voice was becoming frustrated.

Alice-Laura hesitated as her brain went completely blank. No sharp response, no eye roll, no witchy solution to her problems. Nothing.

"Give me a week."

Postponing was a coward's move, but it was all she had left.

A loud sigh reverberated inside her head.

"One day. Final."

Nodding her head before she could even think about it, she spoke quietly.

"Yeah. Yes. Thanks- uh-"

And just like that, he was gone.

Her ears were filled with the deafening silence at the absence of his voice. She waited a few seconds, making sure that he wasn't inhibiting the long shadows in the corners of her room or the black cat outside her window, before flopping down on her bed and shoving her head in her hands.

There was no way this was going to end well for her.

Tiny teardrops fell from her stinging eyes and smudged her make-up, and a few pitiful sobs were muffled by the heel of her hand. Finally alone with her thoughts, she cried quietly to herself.

No soul.

She toyed with the idea for a bit, what it would be like to live without a soul. She imagined the feeling of having her life force torn from her chest, ripped out from behind her ribcage, and stolen.

The whole world went grey. When she reached her hand out to touch the bedsheets she was sitting on, there was no feeling at the end of her fingertips. She sobbed harder but couldn't feel the tears falling down her face, couldn't feel the tears tracks they made.

She shook her head, hard.

Colour seeped back into the world and she was suddenly overwhelmed by all the textures around her. Her breathing became heavier and-

“Alice?” her mum sounded concerned.

She snapped out of it. Clearing her throat of any audible traces of her crying, she replied.

“Yeah?”

“You alright in there?”

“Mhm. Just trying to figure out how to get dad back,” she sighed, “again.”

“Alright then, I won't disturb you. Try to have him back by tea-”

Her voice faded as she began to walk down the stairs.

Alice-Laura sighed again, this time in defeat. She did not want to have to give up her soul, but what else was there for her to do?

She got up and paced around her room, wiping away her tears. Her mascara was streaked all over her face, and she honestly didn't have the wherewithal to care.

There was one last book that hadn't been used for her failed summoning earlier. It was barely a satanic book, just containing mentions of the devil, and as she picked it up she read the front cover again. Engraved and gilded on the front, the title read: ‘Folk Tales from a Time Long Past.’

She didn't have to look in the index to find the page she wanted, just turning to where the spine was broken in and the corners were dog-eared.

Her favourite bedtime story as a child, where a schoolmaster had to fool the Devil himself to save his town.

She took in a deep breath and began reading.

[fern-daysss]

Fern//Lowell//Scott

He/xe/neos

:3

I may or may not tag my writing with #fern writesss and my drawings with #fern drawsss and my shitposts with #fern yapsss

<3