Forbidden Game fic. Even though, like, one person will get it.
(Toooooodd REREAD THE BOOKS. And then whine with me.)
Title: So in my veins
Summary: Jenny thinks about flowers.
Author's Notes: Sometimes, all you really want is your OT3, no explanation or setup. Title from Keats' "This Living Hand".
Julian is always gentle with Jenny. She's so used to that now, accustomed to his featherlike touches and his starving-tiger eyes, that the oddity of his care with her only comes home when she looks at him with Dee.
The thing about Dee, Jenny knows, is that she suffers softness from no one. Dee looks at the world like a chance for a fight, taking every step like she dares the ground to object. Jenny knows that Julian needs that. He might want to be what she wants him to be, but Dee's ferocious, wild grins sharpen his smiles and make them real in a way Jenny doesn't. She isn't sure he knows that.
Dee is hard as any boy, and harder than most. The grace and panther-black muscle that Jenny has known all her life can still shock her, even in the moments when Jenny finds the softness in her. It's an edge of gentleness that Dee only gives to Jenny, and it always makes Julian's mouth quirk in a fascinated smile -- "Beautiful Deidre," he murmurs -- and that will make Dee sneer at him before she bites at his lip.
Julian is Dee's excuse to fight. He's her opponent, now that she's made her mother's computers work for her, and Jenny knows that Julian knows that. She doesn't think he minds. Julian is still a Shadow Man, even if he leashes that for Jenny's sake, and he needs someone who will push at his edges.
Dee wouldn't know who she was if she wasn't pushing.
The blue-eyed devil and the night-dark warrior goddess, and Jenny, pinned between them, always loses herself in Julian's soft, persistent mouth and Dee's callused, clever hands.
Julian knows Jenny better than she knows herself. Dee has known Jenny all their lives.
It's kind of like a garden, Jenny thinks now, looking up from her weeding at the sound of Dee's laughter, watching them move as they spar. Some flowers only thrive in combination.
It's the only way they can really blossom.
-- Finis
Title: So in my veins
Summary: Jenny thinks about flowers.
Author's Notes: Sometimes, all you really want is your OT3, no explanation or setup. Title from Keats' "This Living Hand".
Julian is always gentle with Jenny. She's so used to that now, accustomed to his featherlike touches and his starving-tiger eyes, that the oddity of his care with her only comes home when she looks at him with Dee.
The thing about Dee, Jenny knows, is that she suffers softness from no one. Dee looks at the world like a chance for a fight, taking every step like she dares the ground to object. Jenny knows that Julian needs that. He might want to be what she wants him to be, but Dee's ferocious, wild grins sharpen his smiles and make them real in a way Jenny doesn't. She isn't sure he knows that.
Dee is hard as any boy, and harder than most. The grace and panther-black muscle that Jenny has known all her life can still shock her, even in the moments when Jenny finds the softness in her. It's an edge of gentleness that Dee only gives to Jenny, and it always makes Julian's mouth quirk in a fascinated smile -- "Beautiful Deidre," he murmurs -- and that will make Dee sneer at him before she bites at his lip.
Julian is Dee's excuse to fight. He's her opponent, now that she's made her mother's computers work for her, and Jenny knows that Julian knows that. She doesn't think he minds. Julian is still a Shadow Man, even if he leashes that for Jenny's sake, and he needs someone who will push at his edges.
Dee wouldn't know who she was if she wasn't pushing.
The blue-eyed devil and the night-dark warrior goddess, and Jenny, pinned between them, always loses herself in Julian's soft, persistent mouth and Dee's callused, clever hands.
Julian knows Jenny better than she knows herself. Dee has known Jenny all their lives.
It's kind of like a garden, Jenny thinks now, looking up from her weeding at the sound of Dee's laughter, watching them move as they spar. Some flowers only thrive in combination.
It's the only way they can really blossom.
-- Finis