about her {niam!blitz}

Tucked within a strong and comforting embrace, Tweed knew she was safe. A solid roof was over her head and sturdy walls surrounded on all sides, and they were quite a contrast from the warehouse’s holey and creaking structure. No chains rattled above, no water dripped steadily, no smells of musky mold; only burning, crackling pine logs and Duncan’s familiar earthy scent filled her nose, spreading a warmth throughout her body that nothing else could provide. Enveloped in this contentment, she felt herself becoming drowsy, and so she hid her hazel eyes behind closed lids and let herself sink into the soft couch. Her fingers remained intertwined with his on the hand whose arm draped over her, and her thumb continued to lightly stroke his skin, which was merely a habit she had picked up over the past few weeks.

Up until a few months ago (or had it been longer? The days had started to mesh together so much that she could hardly recall when they first met, or even what she had been doing before Duncan came along) the redhead had been sticking out on her own on the streets and she had preferred it that way. Not becoming close to anyone would make everything easier: no one else to watch out for, no hunting for extra food or water or clothing, and no bickering with her plans. But she was lonely; cold nights spent by herself, curled up in a forgotten alley with only her holey blanket for warmth, were terribly taxing on her emotions. In those times of shivering and hiding her face from no one, Tweed’s mind would wander back to her mother, whose memories alone possessed a particular warmth that was both good and made her heart ache. Though the images were vague, she could still feel how lovingly her mother looked upon her and her father, and, despite how young the redhead had been, she could easily remember how tenderly she and her father looked upon her mother.

But her father died, and later, heartbreak claimed her mother.

Tweed knew how sweet love could be, how deeply one can succumb to it, and the sudden absence of it was destructive and deadly. She knew she had a decent fear of love only because of her mother’s death, and despite that, Tweed subconsciously found herself becoming closer, and closer, and closer to Duncan Bowers-Fox, and already she knew she wouldn’t leave him. Duncan had provided a sense of relief for those freezing nights alone and had even invited her into his home, which she had not once turned down; she had seen him through tragedy and held his hand tightly when the ice was too thin to stand on and laughed with him until her stomach hurt, and no matter the pain they endured, she steadily found that merely his presence was starting to give her the same peaceful warmth that originally could only be found in her memories.

And whenever she thought about it, she realized she had not once been alone ever since meeting him.

She liked the way his warm breath tickled her ear whenever they laid down on the couch, how his massive body encased her from behind, how she could feel every little movement he made, and how she knew that, for once since her mother’s death, she was important to someone.

Tweed nuzzled the back of Duncan’s hand and felt him take a breath before hearing her name being uttered in that very smooth and homey baritone voice. Still rather drowsy, she only replied on a small exhale. “Mm?”

In the crackling quiet that followed her reply, Tweed nearly fell asleep. She found it strange how comfortable one could be with another person, entrusting so much to them in a time of unconsciousness; Duncan was so much bigger and stronger than her that, in the very beginning, she hardly trusted him. He could overpower anyone and she was extremely protective of her few possessions, though soon after, she realized he was nothing but an over-sized pup.

But then she labeled him as a thief, and the only thing he had stolen was her heart. However, it was his for the keeping.

She didn’t think it was possible for her to rely on simply someone’s presence alone. Duncan didn’t have to say anything and Tweed was content to just rest against him since his embrace spoke far louder than words. Uncertainty gathered whenever she attempted to pinpoint what exactly it was that made her feel so at ease with him: the way he intertwined their fingers when they held hands, when they first started to inch closer together during cold nights in alley ways, how he never seemed to frown, how he always became so absorbed in his journals when writing, or even how she felt so small and safe tucked in his gangly arms.

Gently Tweed pressed the back of his hand to her lips, and stopped as soon as she heard his question. A home? A genuine home? Hazel eyes opened to see a hazy sideways fireplace and an overwhelmingly fuzzy feeling swelled inside. That would mean no more freezing nights, no more holey blankets, no more scrounging, no more mildew, no more pavement beds, no more anger—

A small smile drew her lips upward. “Yes,” she answered quietly, no more than a muffled mumble. “Yes, I’d love that very much.”

A smile remained on Tweed’s face even as he retracted his hand. The thought of having an actual, warm home to return to everyday thrilled her; the warehouse had been alright, but that had to be taken with a grain of salt. Every fogged window had been broken, holes in the roof allowed steady streams of rainwater to fall inside, and jagged debris littered the floor. Nothing more than four walls with a holey roof, but none of that mattered anymore. Duncan had granted her refuge with him, her only friend, and there was no way she would have turned that down for the world.

His fingers uncurled to reveal a crumpled piece of paper and her hazel eyes watched it carefully until he indicated that it was for her. ”Me?” She murmured, reaching up and taking it. On one side there were stenciled letters and numbers and the word ‘Bakery’, nothing interesting, so she turned it over and saw a very familiar scrawling font that only Duncan could produce.

Tweed wasn’t the best at reading and so she kept silent as she went word to word, sounding them out in her head. The sentences stirred up memories of the first time she met Duncan on that very frigid day: how she had subconsciously been edging closer to him that night in the alley in order to keep warm, and how he hadn’t scooted away at all. However, her eyes lingered on a specific line that struck her: ‘I think she’s lost something too, but I’m sure we’ll find it.’ A pain ached in her chest but she shoved it down; he didn’t know about that yet, and she wasn’t ready to tell him.

A small, rather forced laugh escaped her in a wispy breath. ”You thought I was scary?” Tweed flicked his hand playfully. ”You’re pretty neat too.”

She could feel him fiddling with her hair and the gentle tugs and twirls were calming. Tweed allowed her eyes to close and the smile remained on her face, broadening when he murmured close to her neck, his warm breath tickling her skin. A laugh sounded from the redhead. ”I’m not that short.” Though, truthfully, she had always been shorter than her peers; as a young child she had been looking up to others, and even nowadays she was glaring up at people. Particularly with Duncan, he was as tall as the sky itself, but craning her head back was always rewarding. Looking up into his vibrant eyes was similar to seeing two dazzling stars lighting up the night sky that had always been her shelter on the street. Both were comforting and, to her, were considered home.

And when he pulled her around, she saw those two stars looking directly at her. She lifted her gaze as she usually did and let her gaze follow along the contours of his face: every crease, every bump, every soft edge. More so than the stars, Duncan was her home now. It didn’t matter what roof stood over their head because she was completely at ease whenever he was nearby. She didn’t need the stars anymore. Tweed brought her hand up and gently ran her fingertips along his jawline, gaze dropping to his pale lips, and she pressed her mouth against his.

For years there had been an odd yearning for the lanky boy that kept her nearly glued to his side despite the extra effort it took to keep them both safe and fed. However, he provided much needed company; Tweed still didn’t think that Duncan had properly grown into his lengthy legs and it amused her to no end watching him trip over seemingly nothing. Slowly and steadily she had outgrown the assumptions she had of him in the beginning, and instead found a boy that she was suddenly very comfortable with, even if he did find her scary when angered. Her eyes closed and she pressed harder against him, fueled by pent-up passion and a burning desire to finally be able to submit wholly to a trustworthy person.

She was wrapped in a consuming passion that took her by force, losing herself completely in Duncan with his embrace and touch. Tweed let her hand snake around the back of his neck to pull herself toward him, closing any and all distance between them. She wanted all of him, here and now, and for the first time in years, she felt the void in her chest starting to fill.

Losing her mother had been a devastating blow and set the solid foundation for the walls guarding her emotions. Since then, Tweed hadn’t opened up to anyone but the tall boy with the fluffy hair and stack of ragged journals. It had been a slow process; warming up to Duncan enough to share stories required many nights huddled together to fight off the cold, working seamlessly together to acquire food and clothing, and the fulfillment of hopes that he’d still be there in the morning when she awoke despite the nasty jabs she’d taken at him during the daytime for not sticking strictly to her plan.

He had delivered, and he had proven himself to her many times, so she had fallen hard for the one who hadn’t given up on her.

Tweed sucked in a breath and buried herself in him as he nuzzled her neck. The aroma of muddy earth, wood, and moss hit her all at once, reminding her of the times she had begun to look at him more than just a survival partner. Sleeping next to each other had become something she looked forward too, and his scent comforted her since the beginning; nights had become far less lonely and threatening. In his arms, she was safe, and even tucked with him on the couch, there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

”Not a chance,” she murmured, closing her eyes and curling up into him, thumb gently stroking the side of his neck. A genuine, light smile pulled the corners of her mouth upward as she hugged him close. ”You’re all I have and I love you.”