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callemreine · 3 years

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Brave face, talk so lightly(hide the truth)

'All my life, I've just wanted to make things easier for them.'

Au August

Day/Prompt: Day 26 - Soulmate

Ship: Prinxiety, brief logicality, creativitwins

Word count: 3k (I'm so sorry I got carried away)

Cw: swearing / brief murder mention / implied death / crying / nightmares(?) / anxiety mention / caps / claustrophobia(?)

A/N: the prompt is your dreams are your soulmate's memories. The title is from the song "Sick of losing soulmates" by dodie. I wrote the first 1/4 of this a few days ago and the rest in one sitting and I couldn't care less about proofreading it so Im so sorry if there are any mistakes ;-;

@tsshipmonth2020

I see a girl in the distance. She has her back turned. Long chocolate-colored hair tied in a low messy bun. My hand is reaching out to her. I feel this sudden longing to be held by this woman. Craving her caring and loving words. Telling me that everything is going to be alright.

Wait. Why is she getting farther away?

She looks back at me with a sad smile. Everything gets dark. I let my eyes stray from her to look around. When was I in a hospital corridor?

"I'm sorry, Pumpkin. You're gonna have to continue our adventure without me. But, fear not, Little one. I'll always be there by you. You just gotta learn to know where I am,"

She caresses my cheek, giving me the warmest smile I have ever received.

She's gone, suddenly. I touch my cheek, still feeling the ghost of her warm touch. Along with… something wet? Am- Am I crying?

"Roman!"

I don't move. I feel stuck. But, also free, somehow. Just unsure of what to do, I guess?

"Roman! Wake up. You idiot!

"Roman!

"Oh, thank all things unholy! I thought someone was in our room, trying to murder us! You were crying, and- and whispering stuff! And it's creeping me the fuck out! And I'm not easily creeped out, you know that" Remus exclaimed as he sat on Roman's chest, grabbing his twin’s shoulders.

"Man, you're soulmate must have some twisted memories," He continued, getting off of Roman and returning to his own bed across the room.

'Yeah. Twisted…' Roman thought.

~*~*~

"You okay there, Sweetie?" Roman heard from where his head was buried on the kitchen counter. "Yeah... Just thinking about my soulmate again," he admitted.

"Another bad dream?" His mom inquired as she sat next to Roman, patting his back. "It's not just that. It's about the move. Like, we're never really sure which of our memories they see, right? But, they've seen all my memories from this place. Like, they know where I've been my entire life…" he trailed off.

"I'm just not sure how they would feel seeing a whole new different place… They don't seem to be in a place to experience a big change right now. All my life, I've just wanted to make things easier for them. And, yeah, my dreams don't really change that much. But, I make an effort, y'know?" Roman looked up at his mom to seek at least some kind of reassurance.

"I understand what you mean, and I think that what you're doing is great. And I know that you're gonna be the bestest thing that's ever gonna happen to them. But, I'm really sorry. We don't really have any choice with this move. I know your soulmate is in a dark place right now, but you can't always do everything for them. You're also your own person," His mom hugged him.

Roman felt like he was hopeless in this situation. And, he was always hoping for the best. For his soulmate or otherwise. Maybe his mom was right about putting himself first sometimes.

~*~*~

Virgil was in his first period when someone he didn't expect to walk into his classroom… walks into his classroom… They were wearing an army green shirt, a denim jacket with neon green highlights and spikes at the bottom, ripped jeans, and platform boots with more spikes and vulgar words written on them. To say that this man was familiar was an understatement. He KNEW this man's entire life THROUGH his dreams.

Virgil felt like he was trespassing someone's life. Like, he wasn't supposed to know the man. And that, they shouldn't be in any way related. Especially to their sibling.

He wasn't really ecstatic about meeting his soulmate. IN SCHOOL NO LESS. It wasn't really an ideal 'meet-your-soulmate' place for someone like Virgil.

"Alright, students, I'm sure you've all noticed that we have a new student right here. Now, why don't you go and introduce yourself, Mister," their teacher said to the denim jacket guy.

"Umm. Sup? I'm Remus Duke Kingsley. Nice to meet you all. And, if you see a guy that looks like me but without the mustache and wears red all the time, he’s always loud, you can’t miss him. That's my twin brother, Roman. The boring one," Remus says, yawning by the end of his introduction.

'HOLY FUCK, TWINS?!' Virgil thought. Fortunately(or unfortunately, depending on which part of Virgil's brain you're asking), Remus already gave him a vague description of who to look out for.

~*~*~

Virgil continues his day and falls into his daily routine, which mostly includes attempting to avoid being perceived by anyone. It usually succeeds if you exclude his friend, Patton, from ‘anyone.’ He only hopes that his soulmate also sees Patton in their dreams cuz, to be honest, Patton is the ray of sunshine everyone needs. Yeah, he was also friends with Logan, but he’s more like a moon if you ask him.

Virgil goes into the cafeteria and sits at their usual table, his back facing the entire cafeteria. He takes out a paper bag from his bag and grabs the sandwich he bought earlier, not waiting for his friends.

A few moments pass before Logan and Patton reach his table. “Hey, kiddo! You alright?” Patton says as he sits down. Virgil just gives them a nod and continues to eat. “I heard this morning that there were new students,” Logan inquires before Patton interrupts “Oh yeah! They’re twins! I have first period with one of them. He’s really nice. Oh! Hey! Roman! Over here!” Patton shouts and waves his arm toward a student that just entered the cafeteria. “Hope you guys don’t mind that I invited him over to sit with us,” He continues and flashes both Virgil and Logan a smile no one could say no to.

“Hey, Patton.” The guy says to Patton. “Hope you guys don’t mind me crashing your table. I’m Roman by the way,” Roman says to the other two. “Pleasure to meet you, Roman. I’m Logan. And, no, we wouldn’t mind at all,” Logan answered him back. Roman looked over to Virgil who just nodded and said his name. Roman then proceeded to sit next to Virgil but not paying him any mind.

And, though Virgil seemed to be calm about the situation, his mind is currently in flames having his anxiety and his gay panic fight over each other. Virgil is currently waiting for who would win, that's why he seems so calm on the outside. After finishing his sandwich, he was trying to think of something he could do to keep himself from leaving and be noticed. He looked over to Logan, attentively listening to Patton talking about the dog he saw this morning. Roman was silently eating his lunch, also listening to Patton, but looking around the cafeteria every once in a while.

It seems that Virgil’s anxiety won the fight because he decided that he doesn’t want to stick around with his friends and his apparent soulmate without doing anything. So, he stands up and excuses himself from the group. "Hey! Wait!" Roman calls after him. Virgil stops a few feet from the table to look back at Roman who was already jogging towards him.

"Virgil, right?" He assures.

Virgil nods. "Ok, there’s just something I wanna ask you. Are those two soulmates?" Roman throws his thumb back, pointing at the two left at the table. "Cuz, as much as how adorable they look together, I kinda don't want to be stuck as a third wheel," he continues.

"Oh. Yeah, those two are soulmates. Sometimes, I wonder if they ever do notice me every time I leave the table," Virgil elaborates, looking back at his friends with a slight smile.

"Umm. Class doesn't start for a few more minutes. I was wondering if I could join you for a while? Wherever you were going…" Roman trailed off, realizing he didn't know where the shorter male was headed.

"Uhh. Yeah, sure. I was just headed to the courtyard to pass the time,"

'Shit. Virgil, why are you doing this?! Why did you agree?! You have anxiety!' Virgil mentally scolded himself.

"Ok. Cool. I'll just go get my stuff," Roman flashed Virgil a smile before heading back to the table.

'Fuck. I am so screwed,' Virgil thought.

~*~*~

"So, what's the deal with those two? I mean, how did they deal with the soulmates thing?" Roman finally spoke a few moments after they found a bench to settle on. "Uhh, well. Logan is my childhood friend and the first day we started high school here, they both had a dream of roll call the other had that day, I guess? They both heard each other's name and boom. You got your glasses gays," Virgil discussed, reminiscing the events that happened that day.

Roman let out a chuckle at Virgil's last words, causing the other's heart to skip a beat. They remain silent for a while, watching the other students passing by.

"What about you?" Roman spoke up.

"What about me?" Virgil glances back.

"I mean, what about you? Have you met your soulmate? Do you know who they are? You just seem like an interesting individual to me, having to stick around knowing you're third-wheeling all the time yet valuing your time with them and your time with yourself all the same. Well, either that or I'm just embarrassed that I think you're uncomfortable with me here…" Roman rambled, rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Virgil chuckled, "Nah. I just get anxious when meeting new people. Plus, I think you're a pretty nice guy." They smiled at each other, Virgil feeling his face heat up, and looks away immediately. "And, about the soulmate thing. I think I have a clue of who they might be, I just…" he trailed off.

"What's holding you back?" Roman muttered, lowering his head, attempting to catch the other's eye. "I… I just think that my memories aren't that… for them. They're just this amazing and joyful person… I just don't think they deserve to see my bland memories every night,"

The pair fell silent, Roman feeling sympathy for the other. Virgil felt Roman shift in his seat before speaking up, "I don't think anyone's memories are ever bland."

Virgil looks up at Roman who has a far-off look with a slight smile on his lips. "I think that our dreams are what shows us what we're missing in life. What our soulmate has that we need and what we have that they need. You know, what makes you both feel complete when you're with each other," Roman smiled.

Virgil pondered on the other's statement for a while. "Is that... Is that how you feel when you're with your soulmate?" He said, being careful with his words. Roman sighed but remained smiling, "I haven't met them yet. But, what you said earlier reminded me of them. I always think they're a little different. My moms said that dreams are supposed to show my soulmate's memories. But, no one is ever sure which ones we see. Well, my dreams always have one thing in common… There's darkness every time…" Roman trailed off, looking more sad as he continued.

"Sometimes, they walk out of their house and, suddenly, everything goes dark and I see pairs of eyes staring at me as I walk. Or sometimes, they lie in bed and, suddenly, it's dark again and I'm stuck inside a box too small for me. But, there’s always this one dream that always repeats itself. Though, I'm not sure my soulmate's gonna be comfortable with me sharing," Roman finally snaps out of his trance and looks up at Virgil, looking embarrassed.

At this point, Virgil is now entirely sure that the person in front of him is his soulmate. He feels tears cloud his eyes so he looks away to play off wiping them away before looking back at Roman with pity in his expression. This is exactly what Virgil was afraid of, having his soulmate also experience the darkness that clouds him every day he wakes up.

"Wow… They- I- I don't know what to say… What are you gonna do when you meet them?" Virgil glances at Roman, pity still in his eyes. Roman let out a sigh but smiled, "I'm gonna give them the biggest hug they've ever received and reassure them that I'm always gonna be with them and that they'll never have to feel alone all the time ever again." Roman looked at Virgil with a smile. But, before he could notice the tear that fell from the other's eye, a loud shrill of their school bell rang throughout the courtyard, signaling the start of their next class.

"Talk about first impressions," Roman said with a chuckle, standing up. "Well, see you around, Virgil. I got a few more 'Hi, I'm Roman' to do," he continued, leaving Virgil on the bench.

~*~*~

I hear my converse squeak as I walk through the hallway. There are people around me, but they're all just silhouettes of the same familiar darkness. I'm walking to what seems to be the cafeteria. I sit down and grab my lunch from my bag. A few minutes pass, two figures sit in front of me. There's something familiar about them despite being two black silhouettes.

"Hey, kiddo! You alright?"

Patton?

"I heard there were new students," Logan?

Wait. Am I…

"Oh yeah! They're twins!"

Oh.

"I have first period with one of them. He's really nice. Oh! Hey! Roman! Over here!"

Before I could look over to… me…

Darkness. Again.

I hear muffled voices. Too muffled to be recognized.

I stay in darkness for what felt like hours before I get surrounded by light.

Too bright.

There's a silhouette in front of me. It doesn't have any facial features but I can feel it stare at me. Slowly, the light around me doesn't feel too bright anymore. It feels… warm and comforting. Similar to the feeling I have in my chest, along with a squeezing feeling. I feel tears cloud my eyes, but I feel happy, somehow?

I feel someone embrace me. I look up to see the silhouette. Its arms around me, like it's protecting me. I feel secure. I feel loved.

I hug back, breaking down in its arms.

"You don't have to be alone anymore"

I hear my own voice. I break down sobbing, seeking more of the silhouette's warmth.

I stopped sobbing after a while but remained in the silhouette's arms for what felt like hours.

"You gotta wake him up!" I heard a distant voice say in a hushed tone.

"No, he hasn't slept like this since who knows when… Something must've happened yesterday..."

I feel myself slowly drifting from where I was standing.

"We can just tell the school he's sick"

"On the second day?"

I feel someone caress my cheek.

"You can stay too if you want"

"Hey, sweetie," Roman opens his eyes to his mom in front of him.

"What's going on? Why are you all in our room?" Roman asks as he sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He eyes Remus standing in front of their mama. Their mom is sitting on the edge of Roman's bed, facing him.

"Well, sweetie. You see, you just had a full night's sleep," their mom explained.

"You looked so peaceful too," their mama added with a smile. Roman stopped to let the events of his dream last night come back to him.

"Roman, is everything ok?" Their mama walked over to him, tucking a few strands of his hair behind his ear. "Yeah… Yeah, I'm okay!" He flashed a smile to his moms, meaning what he said.

~*~*~

Roman hadn't been able to sit still ever since he got to school. 'Late', he should add. Apparently, he overslept while Remus and their moms decide whether to wake him up or not.

When they got to school in the middle of first period, they were excused because their moms were there to explain. With a slightly bent truth, of course.

Roman had to wait three(and a half) classes to talk to Virgil. They didn't have any classes together, to which Roman was bummed to find out. When the bell rang, signaling their lunch break, Roman hurriedly headed to the cafeteria. When he got there, he spotted Virgil just about to sit down at their usual table.

"Uhh. Virgil? Can I talk to you for a sec?" Roman felt awkward, to say the least.

"Uhm. Sure," Virgil replied, standing up. Roman led them under a tree in the courtyard, away from other students. They stayed silent for a while before Virgil spoke up, "So… what'd you wanted to talk about?"

Roman just stared at Virgil for a few moments, examining him, before enveloping him in a tight hug. Virgil stood frozen for a while, surprised at the gesture. He slowly placed his hands on Roman's back, still confused at the sudden affection.

"You're not alone anymore, Pumpkin," Roman said in a gentle voice, cradling the other's head. Virgil froze when he heard the nickname. His expression then softens and hugs Roman tighter, burying his face on the taller male’s shoulder.

"How did you find out?" Roman heard, slightly muffled by his jacket. "Had a dream about yesterday," Roman simply stated, not elaborating more. "What about you? You said you had a clue. Oh! That rhymed,"

They both laughed.

"I have first period with Remus and I recognized him right away," Virgil replied, his face still buried on Roman's shoulder. "Oh, I'm so sorry you have to deal with him," Roman chuckled.

"No, I'm sorry you had to deal with him your entire life,"

"Well, we're not alone anymore now, are we? Roman asked with a serious tone. Virgil parted a few inches from Roman, still holding on to him. He smiled as he looked up at Roman, "No, we're not."

This might be the last one I'll do for AU august but I'm also deciding if I should go back to the prompts I missed when I was sick hmm

I wish I included Remus more in this but it was already 3k words and thats the longest I've ever written so maybe its for the best XD

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shade-romeo · 4 years

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S.. sanders sides... b..ba...band au..

(There's a shit ton of info under here but I'm gonna reblog with even more :) ))

(Also let me know if I need to tag anything, I'm not sure if there's anything triggering down there, since it's mostly just a brain fart)

Roman plays guitar.. Janus does drums... Remus is lead vocals... Janus and Roman both also sing backup....

Their band is names Epifany. A misspelling of Epiphany because Remus liked the sound of the word, but he changed the spelling because "Ph doesn't deserve to take away all of F's hard work."

They're all in highschool together, (Seniors, the twins are 18, and Janus is 19, so they're not minors. Just putting this out there so Remus' stage outfit isn't like.. bad.), so in order to keep everyone off their back, they never reveal who they really are when they do band things in public, so like.. they all have what is essentially a celebrity persona.

Roman calls himself Prince, obviously.

On stage, Prince wears a black long sleeved shirt, with a red vest that is absolutely covered in patches, no pins tho, cuz they rattle and the mic might pick up that sound. He also wears like.. grey pants, that /look/ like dress pants, but they actually aren't, they're super comfy and flexible, but they give off the vibe of like.. professionalism. And then of course some nice heeled boots, that you really can't see because of the pants, but they're there.

And then when doing interviews, he wears a white button up, with black tight jeans, so he can put on his pretty boots and actually have them be seen. He also likes to wear his white silky gloves to interviews, cuz silk feels really nice, all slippery when he rubs his hands together, but sometimes he doesn't, mostly because he forgot to put em on that day. And he only ever remembers as soon as they're at the interview and he gets so upset, cuz now he can't rub his hands together and have it be all slippery :'(.

Two things Prince is never seen without though? His mask, and his crown. His mask is a deep red, with white around the edges, and lil crowns in the corners. And his crown, it looks like one of those plastic crowns you get at like party city, which.. it is, only because it has the foam inside to keep it on his head, otherwise it would fall off constantly.

Remus goes by Duke. Again, duh.

On stage, Duke wears a dark like forest green tanktop, with tons and tons of bracelets on his arms, they aren't loose, because if they were, they would clack together, and that's not good for the sound on stage. He also wears a black choker with spikes and a hoop on the front. It literally looks like a dog collar, and lots of fans speculate that it actually is a dog collar that he bought at pet smart. Anyway, uh, he also wears black shorts, and fishnets underneath because bitches wanna be hot, alright? And of course he wears platform boots because yes bitch. And makeup. Bitch goin off.

To interviews, he wears literally the exact the same thing, except with WAY more jewelry, like, necklaces, piercings, bracelets, most of which are loose so he can just shake his arms and it makes maraca noises which is just fuckin awesome.

Remus has decided that instead of a face mask to hide his identity, like Roman and Janus use, he will wear one of those things that goes over your eyes, and makes like.. the electronic eyes?

These!!! He wears one of these, and like controls the reactions during interviews, on stage he normally switches them between songs, and bases it on the vibe of each song. Like if it's a love song, or a song talking about being in love at all, he'll put on the hearts. Then if its a song about like.. death, he'll put on the X's over his eyes.

Janus is Serpent. Honestly I'm not too good at original names.

Snake, on stage, wears a brown leather jacket over a black t-shirt, the t-shirt has a picture of a yin-yang on it. He also wears jeans, and work boots. Very casual on stage to be honest.

During interviews tho? Bro.. u better be ready to simp bro. He's got on a yellow button up, with a black vest, black dress pants and dress shoes, literally just dressin up all sophisticated and hot.

Though Serpent is never, EVER, seen without his bowler hat or gloves. Ever. He has both items on at all times, though he has two separate pairs of gloves for when he's on and off stage, the onstage pair having hidden grips so his drumsticks don't slip out of his hands. He also wears a face mask to hide his identity, though his is different from Roman's. His mask covers the bottom half of his face, but also covers the left side of his face. The bottom half of his mask is a darker yellow, brighter than mustard yellow, but still a darkish yellow, with black accents, while the part that covers the rest of his face, is green and looks like scales. He figures if Roman's gonna play into his Prince thing as much as he is, then he can have a mask with scales. Fuck off.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #band au

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riderdrauggrim · 4 years

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Bored at the Hotel Storytime.

So last week when I was at the West Edmonton Mall to see the spectacle of it all, and check out the new Drive! indoor electric multi-level go-kart track, I wandered past a Build-A-Bear. It was only 8:20pm but most of the shops were shuttered closed, including this one.

I knew of Build-A-Bears, but I'd never seen a store in person, so I lingered and peered through the gate at the plush displays inside.

And that's when I saw.

Him.

I'm a sucker for Werewolves, always have been, since the day my dad gave me a Monster In My Pocket trading card he'd found on the ground outside a 7-11 back in '91. It was a little scuffed from being on the ground. But it was beautiful.

(Photo from an Ebay sale)

I remember saving up my holiday money and being taken to Toys 'R' Us on 87 Meadowvale Drive, St. Catharines (still there!). I picked out a pack with a Red Werewolf, because Red was Cool. He was the leader of my assorted monsters and plastic animals.

Look at that poise! That drama!

One thing led to another, in the late 90's and early 20's I collected Werewolf: The Apocalypse RPG sourcebooks. Eventually got damn near every book in my collection. Bought the Glaive. The mug. The hat. The necklace (still wear it). The novels. Chased down Rage CCG cards at comic shops throughout the Golden Horseshoe.

Funded the Kickstarter for the 20th anniversary reprint/master edition, even went in for the limited metal plate cover version.

Still have never played a single game of it.

Lamented at the lack of GOOD werewolf movies. Dog Soldiers (2002) and Van Hellsing (2004) are about the only ones I'll accept stylistically. But I'm just picky.

So back to WEM. There's this little dude. Smiling up at my with his badass 90's skater boy getup. My hyper fixation locked in. I spent the night looking up Build-A-Bear online. Turned out he was last year's special, so these must just be extra shells kicking around.

There was some sort of sale on. Buy one, get one (equal or lesser value) 10$. Shit. How could I not. I found the PERFECT critter for Garwik. The next day, I returned.

I was nervous, at first, was it weird? A grown person getting a custom stuffed animal? And then I overheard another dude sheepishly admitting to the cashier that the one he'd made was for himself. He'd got one for his nephew and liked it so much he wanted one too. Awww.

Okay so, maybe a little weird, but apparently not uncommon.

The cheerful staff member picked up the unstuffed shells I pointed out, and with me manning the air blower and her working the body around, we socially distanced assembled the plushies. In go the hearts. In go the optional smell satchettes (vanilla in the head for my werewolf, bubblegum in the body for Garwik's monkey). Now to go pick accessories.

Oh.

Ohhhhh.

THIS is how they "get you". Sure, I was getting two foot tall plush animals for like 40 bucks total. But the outfits. The outfits.

8 bucks for a hat. 15 bucks for a pant/jacket set. 18 bucks for a Star Wars tie-in outfit. Boots. Things to hold. Glasses. Pants. Shirts. Accessories. Iiiiiii get it now.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

So while I'm Hrmming and Hawwwwing about what top looks cool, a gaggle of young adults stumble past in the concourse.

"Build-A-Bear!" one of them exclaims loudly, slowing down. The other pause. A mixed gender group, I didn't take a headcount but about three guys and three gals. Mid-20's at the most.

"Lookit all the stuffed animals!" someone else says. At first they're making fun of it, but within seconds someone declares "We should all get one!" This idea is an immediate success. "Yah!" "We should!" "Let's all get one!" "Can we come in? Do we have time?"

It was 20 minutes to closing but the worker gamely let the young people past the social distancing barrier, and they swarmed the unstuffed body display, pointing out which ones they were going to get. She scooped up the decisions, moving the whole pack over to the stuffing blower, and had them operate the air as she filled their choices. The scent options ramped up the group's already palpable excitement.

As she offered the first plushie to the owner for a squish test, and then flipped it around for the heart insertion, a decision was made. "No, we're gonna put the hearts in all at the same time!" This might have surprised the employee, but she laughed and went along with it. Several nearly completed bodies later, she had them each choose a heart and instructed them each to hug it. And then. Rub it on their hearts. And then rub it on their heads! Now rub it on their toes!

I'm cashing out while all this was going on behind me. It was complete goofery. The enthusiasm of the worker was the same cheerful joyous supportive silliness as a camp counselor leading a group of six year olds in a game. And these young men and women were LOVING it. They did every ridiculous maneuver they were instructed, laughing at the 'childishness' of it all, but not a one complaining, or calling it stupid.

I don't know why, but that incident made me unbelievably happy.

I think, too often, people are so stressed to 'grow up' and 'act your age', that they forget how much fun it can be to just. Enjoy silly things. To spin in a circle and rub a cloth heart on your tummy. To buy a stuffed animal with your best friends.

I wish them all the best.

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gaiyofanfiction · 7 years

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If you get a chance,Am I allowed to request a Monsta X Jooheon Mafia AU where you're new to the city and he falls in love with you and your passion for life but have no clue what he does for a living so you're always wondering why everything goes so smoothly for you like finding a job, getting an apartment, people being nice to you, etc after you meet him. I'm not sure what sort of genre would be best for this so can you help decide that? Thanks! :)

Thanks for your request Anon! Jooheon is my bias from Monsta X and I’m totally excited to write this! I hope you like it

Reader x Jooheon Mafia!AU - “Precious Thorns”

You have just moved to Chicago and finally settled into your new apartment. Peering out your window to look at the skyline you sigh and say,”wow, this is it! The Windy City! I may have spent most of my savings to move out here, but I think I can go for a few drinks. Mama needs to wind down.” You start to put on your outfit; a cute slim black dress that went down to mid-thigh, fishnets with a rose design, and black boots with studs. Last but not least, winged eyeliner, a little bit of mascara, and a maroon matte lipstick to top it off.

Walking down the street you’re in complete awe by the bustling streets and the beautiful lights. You stumble upon a night club and decide to go in and have a little fun. The music is loud and there must have been at least a couple hundred people in the building. You squeeze your way to the bar and order a drink, “vodka and cranberry with a lime please.” Taking a few sips here and there you start to people watch and enjoy the view.

“You’re not going to dance?” asks a young, handsome man in a black suit with a cherry red tie. “Oh, haha. I’m a terrible dancer. I prefer to people watch and enjoy the music,” your say nervously. ‘He’s really good looking. I don’t know how he can make dark brown messy hair look so sophisticated.’ “So, why aren’t you dancing? What’s your excuse?” You take a sip of your drink while keeping eye contact. He moves a little bit closer and you try not to show that your heart is ready to jump out of your chest. “Well, unfortunately the only girl I want to dance with is busy people watching,” he gives you a sly side smile. “Well played, sir, well played.” You reach your hand out for him to grab and guide you to the dance floor.

“I’m serious though, I really don’t know how to dance, I might even step on your nice expensive shoes,” you jokingly say, but being very honest. “Just follow my lead, sweetheart.” He twirls you around like you’re a beautiful princess in a ball gown. Suddenly he brings you closer and his hand sits at your lower back. “You know, I don’t think our dancing matches the upbeat club music.” He stops. “You’re right, but who wants to conform?” He winks at you and smiles. ‘This man is killing me. He is way too charming.’

After a few drinks and getting to know each other a little more you finally ask, “So, how does a man like you become interested in a girl like me?” You twirl your straw around. “What do you mean my dear?” He tilts his head. “Oh c’mon, I’m just another punk city girl and you’re clearly a big businessman. The suit, nice shoes, and you even have a Rolex watch.” You raise your eyebrow challenging him. “Even so, it doesn’t mean I don’t know when to appreciate a beautiful rose such as yourself.” He leans against the bar table like he just won. “And every rose has its thorn,” a snide comment only you would say. He claps and chuckles at you. His phone rings and he answers it. “Ah, I see, I’ll be there in five minutes.” He hangs up the phone. “Well, it looks like I’m needed for a late press conference.” He slides a business card to you. “I’ll leave it up to you to make the decision on whether or not our paths will cross again. Till then, Y/N.” He winks and walks away with his hands in his pockets. ‘He is TOO good.’ You look at the card and read: CEO Lee Jooheon. ‘Ugh, he even has a sexy name.’

Two Months Later…

“I’m home!” You come walking in to your apartment and immediately take off your work shoes. “My dogs are killing me! Babe, could you please give me a foot rub?” He motions for you to put your feet up on his lap. “Anything for my jagiya. Now, tell me how was work?” You had explained to him that waitressing is really taking a toll on you and you’re not sure how you’re going to make rent this month. He genuinely looked sympathetic for you, but you didn’t want him pitying you. “It’s okay. I make things work out.” You giggle and head off to the kitchen. He remained on the couch thinking to himself.

The Next Week…

“You did what!? How!? I-I don’t understand.” You start to pace back and forth. “Honey, baby, relax. I have contacts everywhere. I told them how much of a hard worker you were and besides, they owed me a favor. So, I got you a new job as an executive assistant for a major law firm.” He gives you a silly grin. “I’ve been a waitress ever since I can remember! How am I supposed to fit this new role!?” You start to freak out. He grabs you and kisses you. “You deserve more. Just please give it a chance?” He stares at you with his puppy dog eyes. You couldn’t resist.

Another Month Passes…

“The people at the law firm are so nice to me! I’m so used to customers complaining about their meals that it feels like I’m getting the special treatment. Do you have something to do with this?” You furrow your brows. “Me? Whaaat? No way. Don’t be silly.” His phone rings and he continues to sit there and look at you. You roll your eyes, “aren’t you going to answer that? You pretty much get a call every five minutes.” He let the call go. He quickly pulls you in close and grabs your hand to kiss it, “you’re more important.” His phone rings again. You let him answer it this time. “DAMNIT WHAT!?” He explodes leaving you suddenly anxious. “You fucking get the shit situated and I’ll be there as soon as possible. Do not let him go.” He slams the phone on the coffee table and lets out a long sigh. You were left completely speechless.

‘I have never seen this side of him. He’s always been so sweet and full of charisma.’ You tug on his suit. His shoulders drop from being tense and he turns around to face you. “I’m sorry you had to see that. *Ahem* It seems we’re having trouble with a client so… I need to go to work and sort this out.” He kisses your forehead and heads for the door. “By the way, I have you scheduled to move into my condo tomorrow. I suggest you start packing.” He blows you a kiss and closes the door behind him. ‘He did not just…’

Several Months Pass…

You have never been happier. You have a wonderful job, you live with your handsome boyfriend in his massive condo located in on of the cities most expensive high rises, and he even bought you a new car. But, you start to wonder. ‘It’s… It’s way too good to be true.’ It was your day off and you were totally bored with yourself. You start to think even more. ‘To be honest, I have no idea what company he even works for or where he goes most of the time. He never bothered to show me.’ You go snooping into his belongings and stumble upon his laptop. You went to Google maps and decided to track his footsteps. ‘God I feel terrible doing this… But, I have a right to know my own boyfriend and his whereabouts. Right?’ Your fingers clicked away on the keyboard. You finally found a destination he’s been to almost every day since the day you met him. You printed up the directions and headed for the door.

It was late and Jooheon already texted you that he probably wouldn’t be home till tomorrow because of an emergency business meeting. You were just a few blocks away from the destination. Your heart was pounding and you felt so uneasy. ‘Why do I feel like I’m being a horrible person? Oh my god, I’m stalking my own boyfriend!’ You arrive to the location. You sat in your car for what seemed like hours, but was only a few minutes. Swallowing the lump in your throat you take a deep breath in and head out to the building before you.

The location was fairly secluded on the outskirts of the city. You walk towards one of the side entrances and try to take a peak into the windows. Unfortunately all the windows were covered by closed blinds so you had to look around. “Ah, jackpot!” You found a basement entrance. The door was surprisingly unlocked and you let yourself in. There was nobody around. It was an interesting room. The only things in the room were a wooden desk with one lamp and some scattered papers.

You looked at a few papers and started to notice a pattern. Each one had a picture of a man or woman with a written profile of the person. All of them had an ‘X’ over their faces except for one. You read that one’s profile. “…Several fraudulent accounts… Millions of dollars stolen… Five accounts of… MURDER??? And… RECENT ASSOCIATE OF JOOHEON!?” Your head was spinning and you had to prop yourself up against the table. ‘I’m starting to think I know nothing about my boyfriend.’ You hear yelling in the adjacent room and a loud crash. You try to peak in through the cracked door.

“I didn’t take you under my wing so you could eventually undermine me and my work. I came from nothing and built an empire of my own from the little amount that I had. Did you really think that this would slip past me so easily?” You see Jooheon pistol whip the fallen man. You cover your mouth with a shaky hand. Jooheon starts to circle the man. “Do you know what we do with people like you? People that steal from me and my mafia?” He crosses his arms and whistles to his men. A couple men in black suits start to drag the man away.

“Also, will someone please bring in my beautiful jagiya. We are not monsters here. Please show her some manners.” Your heart stops and knees become weak. You try to bolt away, but a strong man drags you into the empty room and forces you to sit in a chair. “My dear, I’m sorry you had to see such a sight.” He caresses your face with the back of his hand. “W-what is the meaning of this? Joohoney? I d-don’t understand… Why -” He covers your mouth. Tears start to fall down your cheeks and onto his hand. He licks the tears from his hand. “Are you afraid my precious flower?” He lifts your chin up although you flinch. “I think you will get used to it. Just let daddy do his work…” Suddenly he pulls your hair back making you shriek and he’s face to face with you. “But, if I ever see you back here again meddling in my business, we’re going to have a problem.” He gives you a kiss on your cheek.

“Every rose has its thorn,” he says before he laughs maniacally and exits the room. You’re left in the chair, alone, and with an empty mind. You say to yourself with an insane look on your face, “and now I bleed from picking the rose with the most thorns.”

#GaiYō fanfiction #requests #submissions #monsta x mafia #scenarios #kpop scenarios #monsta x #monsta x au #lee jooheon #joohoney #fluff #monsta x fluff #angst #monsta x anst #au #mafia #blinded by love

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benbarnesescape · 7 years

Note

So I'm taking you up on your offer, love! ☺️ so I thought about Ben (obviously) & a sassy reader always hanging out with the same people, but not knowing each other directly 😏 and one day their friends set them up for a blind date without them knowing... and it's all sweet and fluffy 🙏🏻 I hope you can work with that, love, I'm a sucker for this sort of romantic suspense... 😄 Anyway, thank you so much, again, for your stories! They often constitute the best part of my day. Cheers, your fan.

So I kind of twisted it the blind date angle but hopefully you like this @la-fille-en-aiguilles! I can always give you a sweet Ben date story as well :)

Tequila and the Jets

Imagine: Waking up next to Ben after a fun night out.

A/N: This is smutty….my first Ben SMUT and I blushed all the way through it…..I think it was worth it. Enjoy! :)

You felt the hangover, even when you realized you were laying down and hadn’t opened your eyes yet. You groan, digging your face deeper into your pillow as you hear a phone chirp beside you.

‘Please shut up, please shut up’ you will internally to no avail. You sigh, rolling to your side to grab your phone when you stop. This wasn’t your bed. The navy sheets stood out against the sun rays peering in through the window.

“No, no, no….” you mumble, throwing a pillow over your face. That’s when your heart stops. You knew that smell. The perfectly mingled scent of spices and fresh linens played against your nostrils and you sat up in bed. You took in the decor of the room…you were in a hotel but not your hotel room. This was room was far nicer. You noted the clothes laying on the ground - your dress lying on top of jeans and a dark T-shirt you remembered seeing a handsome fellow donning the night before and you lose your breath.

You were in Ben’s room.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….” you mumble as you throw off the sheets to find that you are indeed naked and despite your panic can’t help but smile. Did you get plastered with Ben and then sleep with him? You ran your hands through your hair, willing the events from the night before to enter your brain. You were in New York to visit a friend and ran into Ben. You didn’t know Ben that much - you both had been introduced mutually through a friend a long time ago but aside from a few run ins occasionally there was nothing else to your friendship. Ben had wanted to go to a concert and you figured it would be fun - you had just bought a sexy little black dress that you were eager to show off. That and you knew you were looking good - leather jacket to accentuate the dress, cute ankle boots to help tone down your style and you had just left the salon, your hair looking fresh out of a Loreal commercial.

You remembered watching Hoozer, then there was a bar but after that….all a little fuzzy. You went through your hook up list once again.

Angry hangover.

Check.

Naked body under sheets.

Check.

The only thing missing was…

“You’re up!” his deep, baritone voice cuts through your sluggish brain and you look up to see Ben smiling down at you, two mugs of coffee in his hand. His shirt was off and his boxers hung dangerously low on him, licking some untamed fire within you.

Yea….you probably hit that.

“Thank you…” You mumble, taking the mug from his hands and leaning back into the bed frame. You take a sip of coffee, letting the caffeine work its magic in your body as you try to keep your eyes in front of you. Finally after moments of silence you say,

“So…..”

“So?” Ben asks, raising a brow. You become very aware of how naked you were and try to casually cross your arms over your chest before asking,

“What the hell happened last night?”

He gives a large sigh, falling back beside you and takes a large swig of coffee.

“….I was going to ask you that actually.”

“Shit.” you mutter under your breathe, causing him to laugh. He takes another drink before commenting,

“I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t happy to wake up next to this gorgeous naked woman but…I don’t remember how we got here. Naked and all.”

You can’t help but smile at his natural charm. Of course you slept with him. Tall, dark looks. British accent. Witty intellect. A tad bit nerdy. A gentleman. You had a type and this man fit it to a tee. You were probably all over him the minute you met up at the concert.

“Agreed. I remember meeting you at the concert. We danced and listened to music together while friends abandoned us….” you rubbed the side of your head, trying to conjure up some memory.

“Right,” he tilted his head to look at you, “I remember asking you for drinks afterwards.”

You shook your head, the memories starting to come back to you.

“Yes! We went to a bar close to your hotel because you are a very smooth Casanova,” he pushes you with his shoulders though the smile on his face betrays him. You continue, “We went to the bar and I convinced you take tequila shots with me…..and that about answers that on my end.”

You laugh, shaking your head. You take another sip of coffee and Ben nods.

“Oh yes. You were dancing on the bar to Benny and the Jets. You convinced the bartender to treat the whole bar to shots - which he did because let’s be frank you looked very good in that dress you were wearing - and then I asked you to come upstairs. But only to make sure you were okay!” he made sure to say the last part quickly, his cheeks growing red and you can’t help but die inside from how adorable he was.

“I’m sure you did Mr. Casanova. Admit it - the minute you saw me last night you had planned this whole thing. Tequila and the Jets.” You begin to hum the tune, causing him to give a deep, throaty laugh. It’s not long before you’re joining him in his laughter, relieved that he found this one night stand as amusing as you.

When you both have simmered down he says,

“I may not have planned last night,” you shoot him a look and he raises his hands in defense, “but I’m happy I ran into you. Never expected to see you again, especially out here.”

You shrug, finishing your coffee and placing it on the nightstand beside you.

“Jen and I have been wanting to see Hamilton and I haven’t been in New York for a while so alas.”

You stretch your arms and legs, not missing Ben’s eyes raking over your body, that same goofy smile plastered on his face.

“What?” you ask, knowing your cheeks were just as red as his were, suddenly self conscious of how he was looking at you.

“Nothing…” he stretches over you to place his coffee mug beside your own.

“You just look really beautiful right now.” he whispers, his face inches from your own. You could hear your heart beating out of its chest as you looked back at him. You liked him. He was funny and smart and knew how to make the best out of an awkward situation and you liked him. The hell you were going to let him know that though.

“Is that the best line you have Casanova?” you whisper before his lips fall on yours. You feel his smile underneath your mouth as you wrap your arms around your neck but you don’t care. You’re just happy that you’re kissing him and you’ll be able to remember it. He captures your bottom lip, gently sucking it before his tongue mingles with your own, causing you to groan involuntarily. He grunts in approval, slowly pushing your body back into the soft mattress.

His mouth trails from your mouth down to your neck, playfully biting and kissing you. You throw your head back in pleasure, running your hands through his thick hair. This was what your brain was going to make you forget.

You’ve said it once and you’ll say it again - you were never going to drink tequila again.

You instantly forget this as Ben pulls the sheet from your chest, his mouth now trailing down to your breast, capturing a breast in his mouth and sucking on it eagerly. You involuntarily arch your back as he moves to your right breast, his hand teasing your left nipple. You bite your lip, wondering if you’re dreaming. Then he nips at your breast again, causing you to whimper before moving his lips back up to you.

Nope this was real.

“You are so beautiful.” he mutters under your skin and you can’t help but blush as his mouth finds your again.

“You’re not bad yourself handsome.” you smile, when he pulls away and he gives a cocky half smile, causing you to bite your lip. It was the smile you’ve seen a million times on screen - a smirk full of hidden secrets that only he knew.

You feel his hands caress your body, trailing down your torso until it dangerously reaches your already slick opening. Your breath involuntarily hitches, causing you to arch into him as his fingers flicks against your clit.

“Jeeeezzz….” you mumble and he smiles, his hooded eyes watching you in pleasure. His lips crash down on you once more before you feel him enter you. His head throws back in pleasure as your hips buck up to meet him. You feel him slowly enter you before pulling out slowly, repeating the process.

“Fuuuuuuucccckkk Y/N.” he mumbles, falling onto you as he pumps into you again and you wrap your legs around him, causing him to go deeper in you.

“I promise…I’ll make love to you later…. I just need to feel you.” he manages out, as he slams into you again and you shake your head, unconcerned for later needs.

“Please don’t stop.” you whimper out, following his lead as you grind your hips with his own.

“You feel so good.” he moans in your ear and you nod, your nails digging deep into his back, sure to leave marks. You were in ecstasy as another orgasm hit you, causing your body to involuntarily twitch.

“That’s right baby. Cum for me.” Ben whispers in your ear, his cock hitting your soft spot again. You scream now, amazed at how much pleasure your body can handle. Ben takes this opportunity to sit up, bringing you up with him. You moan as his cocks moves deeper into you, biting down on his shoulder as he grinds into you.

Once another wave passes by, you grab his face, moving on top of him deliberately, causing his eyes to roll into the back of his head.

“Feel so damn good Y/N” he moans again, his pace quickening with your own. It’s not long before you feel his seed enter you and his head is buried in your neck, his grip around you tightening as he explodes into you.

You fall back onto the bed, Ben falling on top of you and you both try to catch your breathe. After a few minutes Ben rolls off of you, bringing you to his chest as he softly caresses your back, a huge smile plastered on his face.

A couple of minutes go by and finally he says,

“Remind me to thank Jen for ditching us at that concert.”

You look up at him from his chest and shake your head, smiling.

“Not planned this my ass! I knew you were trying to get me into your room.”

He shrugs, peppering kisses on your forehead before saying, “I had to find some way to get your attention.”

#ben x reader #ben barnes #imagines #benbarnesescape #Smut

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everlarkbirthdaydrabbles · 7 years

Note

Hi! My birthday is April 24th and I'd love to read everlark where Peeta thinks he's lost Katniss somehow, like a misunderstanding or even some kind of accident, but everything works out in the end. Love the drama/angst, and I'm down for any rating (but let's be real, the smuttier the better bc it's my birthday lol). No infidelity please! Tytyty! You are awesome!

Happy Birthday! There is definitely some angst in this one. Thanks for having a birthday so we can all enjoy this great story! And thank you to @katnissdoesnotfollowback for writing and submitting it. She’s been a MAJOR contributor to this blog, as have many others, and we can’t thank her enough. Links to part one & part two if you haven’t read them yet. Enjoy! I know we did.

Happy Birthday! Hope you enjoy this somewhatangsty story. Hugs and lots of love to you on your special day!

All’s Fair - Part 3

WARNINGS: RATED E for language, PTSD, and smut. Mostly the rating is forthe smut. SMUT I SAY!

A/N: HR inthis instance stands for Human Remains. There’s no gore or graphic violence inthis, but there is a healthy dose of angst. Thank you @peetabreadgirl for pre-reading.

************************

My boots scrape the pavement as I stop to stareup and down the parking lot aisles. I find at least four Jeep-shaped vehiclesunder black covers and sigh, drop my bag on the pavement, and search throughthe pockets for my keys. Not even my car keys, either. Customs fucked up mypacking job and I’m pretty sure they wound up back in my footlocker. I find thekeys I need underneath a half empty bottle of Gatorade and unlock my trunk,rummaging around until my fingers find the canvas ribbon on my at homekeychain. Yanking them out, I listen to the jingle of home with the distantgrowl of a C-130 spooling up its engines. The humid North Carolina air pressesdown on my lungs and I blink in the fading light.

It’s late. I’m exhausted and hungry. And the redREMOVE BEFORE FLIGHT tag on my keys is a one-two punch to the face. Idon’t even know where he is right now. He was supposed to be home sometime lastweek, although I don’t know the exact date, but the fact that he wasn’t here tomeet me means he was delayed somewhere. Or something far worse that I am notprepared to contemplate on four hours of shitty sleep on a cramped rotatorflight and an empty stomach.

Pocketing my car keys, I slam my footlocker shutand lock it back up, hefting my bag back on my shoulder and hauling the trunkonto its wheels to continue my solitary trek. I hit the lock button on the keyfob twice and hope my battery didn’t die while I’ve been gone. I’ve gotjumpers, but no one I feel comfortable inconveniencing. Most of the others havealready gone home. Prim couldn’t be here this time, unable to get away from medschool. Mom’s too sick to travel. Gale’s still somewhere in Fallujah, I think.At least, that’s the last place I ran into him.

Finally, my car honks back at me and I trudgethree aisles over towards the sound. Think it’s rough remembering where youparked your car after a thirty minute trip into a grocery store? Tryremembering where the fuck you parked it in a long term lot after a year longdeployment. I drop everything when I reach my Jeep. Unceremonious and messy.Fuck the Army and it’s obsession with order.

It takes me a few tries to get the cover off mycar and folded up enough to shove it in the back. My footlocker and duffle goin next. The pack goes on the front seat since it contains my wallet, such asit is. I climb into the driver’s seat and roll back enough of the canvas sothat I’ll be able to feel the breeze. Keys in the ignition and I freeze, oncemore staring at the bright red tag.

Peeta gave it to me right before my firstdeployment, in a black velvet box that looked like it contained a fancynecklace. Which it did. A single, luminescent pearl on a silver chain nestledunderneath a layer of padding, but on top had been this keychain. I’d laughednervously and shoved his face away from me when I saw the tag, but then he’dshown me what he’d bought for himself...a red, white, and blue double Akeychain. The emblem of the 82nd Airborne. My unit. They were meant to be asymbol. When we saw the keychains that ought to belong to each other, then we’dknow we were home.

The C-130 must be warmed up because the tone ofit changes, softens as it faces a different direction. Turning up the taxiway,preparing for takeoff. I wonder what they’re doing tonight. Dropping bundles?Cargo? Jumpers? Or maybe they’re just making proficiency runs. Either way, Iknow Peeta’s not with them.

“Come on baby, don’t let me down,” I mutter andcrank the engine. She starts rough but she does turn over. I throw my coveronto the passenger side floorboard, needing to feel the wind in my croppedshort hair after months of it being stifled beneath a kevlar helmet.

As I leave the lot, I make a last minutedecision, turning towards the airfield instead of the main gate. I just want tobe sure. I’d call, but my phone’s buried in the back and I didn’t think to pullit out while I was searching for my keys. And maybe I’m not ready to face thesilence of an empty house.

The drive is refreshing, but when I reach theairlift wing’s long term parking lot, I realize what a mistake this was. Theirsis almost as full as ours. I drive up one aisle and down the next, slowing everytime I see anything that might be silver. I find it in the fourth aisle.Peeta’s dark silver Mustang, parked next to a black Silverado, a layer ofpollen coating it, obscuring the color. I grip my steering wheel and stare atthe car for a moment. Then I force myself to leave.

I’ll be going home to an empty house.

The lights in town feel blindingly bright.Foreign after a year in the desert. When I tip my head back, I can barely makeout a handful of stars as they emerge into the night sky. At a red light, agroup of teens in a Tahoe with all the windows down stops next to me, laughingand singing along with their music. Once more, I’m massaging my steering wheeland trying to find my place in this world. It’s familiar and still disturbing.The lights and the colors too bright, the sounds too much like a dull roar, apounding in the skull.

It’s when I pass a McDonald’s and my stomachgrowls painfully that I realize I’ll be going home to an empty pantry, too.There might be a can of soup or something, but nothing fresh. No one’s lived inthat house for six months and I didn’t think to ask Eddy, our neighbor’s kid,to stock the pantry for us. He was just keeping an eye on the place,maintaining the yard, and bringing in any mail. It’ll all be junk, but it’sbetter than leaving it to piss off the mail carrier.

With a sigh, I pull into a grocery store thatlooks new, hoping they have a deli still open so I can get something alreadycooked and warm. I make it quick, though I do spend a few minutes debatingbetween macaroni or potato salad to go with my rotisserie chicken.Choices...something else that feels incongruously familiar. They’ve got abakery, too, and I add a loaf to my basket for dinner, and a couple bagels soI’ve at least got something to eat for breakfast, not caring that they’ll be alittle stale. I’ve eaten worse. I’ll come back tomorrow for a real groceryshopping trip.

I use the self checkout lane, though, becausethe last thing I want right now is attention called to me in the form of achatty cashier or someone wanting to thank me for my service. Most of them meanwell, but sometimes it’s hard to know what to say in response. ‘You’rewelcome?’ Arrogant. ‘Thank you?’ For what exactly? Thanking mefirst? ‘Just glad to serve my country?’ Yeah, tell that to Darius andhis family… I shake myself and gather my groceries before rushing out of thestore.

Once I’m safely back in my Jeep with nounnecessary human interactions, I breathe easier. She starts up like a dreamthis time and I drive home, only freaking out at one plastic bag as the windmakes it drift across my path. Pretty good, considering.

“Here goes nothing,” I say and reach up to pressthe button to my garage door opener. Nothing. Car battery lasted. Remotebattery did not. Time for the car and door dance. By the time I get my Jeep inthe garage, I add grouchy to my list of feelings. My pack goes inside with meand my food. The rest can wait.

The house is dark and smells musty. I open a fewwindows to air it out, humidity be damned, and flip on a couple lights so it’snot as depressing. Then I eat -- with a real fork, off a plate that I’ll haveto wash -- in about four minutes. Which is savoring my meal, by the way.

Once I’ve placed my leftovers in the fridge, Iget the rest of my shit inside and in the bedroom, glaring at the neatly madebed. Starting the shower, I toss crap from my trunk until I find my phone andplug it in. Then I wait for the thing to turn back on and for the water to warmup. I’ve got one voicemail from Prim. I’ll call her after my shower.

I leave my cams on the floor in a pile. I’llshove all of it in the washing machine later. The good thing about shampoo andsoap is that they don’t go bad, although there’s a strange crust around thecaps. I wash quickly, watching the murky water drain away sand and three daysworth of funk layered over remnants from months of half-assed showers.Normally, I’d be in a rush. Limited water and somewhere to be in five minutesmeans that when we got them, showers weren’t luxurious or even very efficient.They were just fast.

Standing under the clear, steaming stream, I tryto relax. To enjoy the luxury. But I can only manage a few extra minutes beforeI start to feel ansty and get out. It’s silly, but once I dry off and am standingin my underwear, staring at my drawer full of pajamas, I hesitate. Instead, Iyank open one of Peeta’s drawers, finger the neatly folded cotton shirts beforefinally dragging one over my body. The shirt smells stale as well, from it’smonths untouched in storage, but as long as I don’t inhale too deeply, I cansort of pretend that it’s his arms holding me. I comb through my hair andsettle on the bed to call Prim.

“Hey! Welcome home!”

“Hi, Prim,” I say and smile for the first timesince stepping off the plane.

“Oh my gosh! I can actually hear you! Nostatic!”

“Just one of the many perks of being stateside,”I say and look around the room. Prim prattles on for several minutes aboutschool and how excited she is to see me in a few days. I try to remaincheerful, but it’s not easy. All I can think about is how her life continueduninterrupted while I dodged bullets, sent a friend home in a casket, and camehome to a stale house.

“You okay?” Prim asks, cutting into my thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say automatically. “Why?”

“I asked if you’d be bringing Peeta when youcome home in a few days and you didn’t answer.”

“Sorry, Duck,” I say. “I spaced out. It was kindof a long flight home.”

“I’ll bet,” she says then waits for my answer.

“I don’t know. He was supposed to be back lastweek, but he’s not, so…”

“I’m sure he’s okay,” Prim says and goes on tosuggest that he can always catch up to us after he gets back, but her wordsopen the gates of fears and worries that I’ve kept carefully under lock andkey.

I maneuver awkwardly through the rest of ourconversation until I remind her how tired I am. When we hang up, I sit rigidand at war with myself. And even though I already know what's going to happen,I press Peeta's name and hold the phone to my ear.

Straight to his voicemail, but I listen anyways.Just to hear his voice for a few seconds, something I haven't heard in sixmonths. I disconnect before the beep and power my phone down then toss it onthe nightstand to charge the rest of the way, wondering if he ever called myphone during those six months he was here and I was not, just to hear my voice.I hug a pillow to my chest before laying down. I squeeze my eyes shut and ordermy body to sleep, but as exhausted as I am, I can’t seem to relax. The sheetscarry a musty smell of their own that makes my nose wrinkle, and they feelcold.

Four months. I haven’t seen him in four months,and even then, it was thirty seconds from a distance and a twist of luck. On atarmac in Baghdad while we were piling into the back of one plane, he waspre-flighting another. At least, I think it was him. We didn’t get a chance totalk. And I’m not even sure he saw me or knew I was there. Since his deploymentwas six months versus my year, we kept in touch better while he was stateside.Skype and e-mail, when I was lucky to stop at a base with internet. Theoccasional letter or phone call. But once he was in the desert too, all but theemails stopped. We just kept missing each other and it was more frustratingthan anything else.

With a low growl, I shove myself off the bed,dragging the spring green duvet into the living room with me. I plop on thecouch and turn on the TV, hoping it will numb me into slumber.

It doesn’t.

News channels covering events I know littleabout, since I was isolated from current events at home for a year other thanthe tidbits Mom, and Prim, and Peeta while he could, would send to me in theirletters. When I stumble across war coverage on one channel, I pause, butquickly move on. I live it. I don’t need them telling me what it’s like.Besides, there’s a small part of me that’s terrified that the next breakingstory will be about a plane crash.

The rest of the channels disappoint just asmuch. Petty squabbles on reality shows. Commercials and other fluff. It’s justlike talking to Prim only magnified. This used to be my life, I think as I turnthe TV back off and wander into the kitchen. I eat one of the bagels I’d meantfor breakfast just to have something normal to do.

When I finally shove myself back into bed, it’swith little hope of sleeping. Still, I try, and I must succeed because I seethings, some of them real, others more difficult to pinpoint. Sergeant Chaffyelling over the pop of gunfire. A woman racing into the streets to enfold herchild into the black billows of her dress before collapsing and crying over hisbody. Peeta’s smile. The ringing in my ears when a grenade went off close by,drowning out the shouts and gunfire that followed. A door kicked in beneath atan boot. Darius laughing the second before the IED went off. A fireball and atower of smoke against an azure sky, the twisted wreckage of a plane’s tail.

I gasp and wake up, sweating and trembling.Slowly, I manage to get ahold of my breathing and stand, walking slowly to thebathroom to splash water on my face in the dark. I gulp down a few handfuls andthen return to bed, stripping the duvet off first and using only the sheet.Staring at the ceiling as I wait for morning or sleep, whichever arrives first.I can’t tell which one it is, drifting in and out of dreams. Even when I see myroom, there’s Gale, detailing a strategy for clearing a street, his neckbandaged. My mother humming as she rocks in a rocking chair and sews. Theconstant, choking brown haze of a dust storm.

I am a stranger in my own life.

When I wake again, it’s late afternoon. Atleast, that’s what my clock says. The room is dark, the curtains drawn, so I’mnot sure that I’m not still asleep. I roll onto my stomach and stare throughscratchy eyes at what should be the empty space beside me. Only, there’s a bodythere, stomach down and faced away from me. My mouth goes dry and I hope it’snot a nightmare. I wouldn’t put it past my twisted brain to imagine him lyingdead beside me.

Reaching out, I poke his ribs and he startles.It takes him a moment, but he finally turns his head to look at me, his eyesbloodshot and dark circles beneath them.

“You look a little rough for a dream,” I tellhim and he blinks at me, confused. “And quiet, too. That’s how I know you’renot real. If you were, you’d have already said ten witty things.”

“Too tired,” he mumbles behind a yawn.

“You should've already been here,” I mutter, thefear of what could go wrong still clinging to me.

“Plane broke and we had to divert to Turkey.Then we got stuck waiting for parts. I called you as soon as we had a takeofftime from Canada, but your phone was off,” he says and I shrug.

“No one I wanted to talk to,” I tell him.

“Ouch,” he says and I scoot closer, hoping dreamPeeta feels half as good as real Peeta. He opens his arms and I snuggle againsthis body. My subconscious has at least gotten the incredible warmth that heemits right.

“You smell good,” I murmur and fist his shirt inmy hand.

“I better. I just got back two hours ago andtook a shower first thing.”

“You got naked without me,” I accuse. “Who’s incharge of this dream anyways?”

“You were out cold when I got in. Didn't want todisturb you. How long have you been home?”

“No idea. Tell you when I wake up.”

“Katniss,” Peeta says softly. “You are awake.”

I open one eye and look up at Peeta. Reachingout, I pat his cheek and he smiles.

“You didn’t wake me!” I shout and scrambleupright in the bed and put space between us. I’m not sure if I’m more angryover the fact that he climbed into bed without waking me or that by leaving myphone off, I missed the chance to be there for him when he landed. But he justlays there, watching me with tired blue eyes.

“I didn’t wake you,” he says softly, one handreaching for me and falling short on the bed, “because you looked so peacefuland wonderful, and all I wanted to do was to sleep next to you for a few hours.Just sleep with the knowledge that I wouldn't be alerted soon, and withouthaving to block out the sound of mortar shells.”

“How's that working out for you?” I ask,resenting the fact that he's the one who brought it up, reminded me that hewasn't all that much safer than I was over there. He shrugs.

“Not so well. It's so quiet here.”

“Yeah,” I say and fold my hands in my lap as weadd to the silence. Staring at one another, neither one of us knowing what tosay, and I wonder if I will feel like an interloper in this part of my lifetoo, caught in a world I no longer understand. I search his blue eyes for somehint of the person I left a year ago. His eyes are the same color, but they'reguarded. Maybe even frightened. And defensive. I don't know how to talk to thisperson.

“This is weird, isn't it?” I whisper. He bracesa hand on the mattress and sits up so our eyes are on the same level, but hedoesn't reach for me again.

“Feels that way, doesn't it?” he asks.

“Prim wanted to know if you’d be coming with menext week.”

“Yeah. If you want me too,” he says and I nod,because what am I supposed to say to this cautious dance around each other.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“I could eat,” he says. We make our way into thekitchen and eat the rest of my chicken, salad, and bread from dinner lastnight. In silence. And we don't touch one another.

I try to summon some sort of feeling. But I'm sotired of fighting and I know he must be too. Maybe it's too late for us.

Two years of visits here and there while he wentthrough his training pipeline, existing on phone calls and quick weekends inwhich we tried to cram months worth of time missing each other. But there wasalways another absence looming on the horizon, and in those absences, it becamenecessary to survive alone. Without each other.

He fought to get an assignment that somewhatmatched up with mine, requesting an airframe that others in his service oftenlook down on, shocking his superiors when he wanted and pursued a heavy insteadof a sleek shiny fighter. Requesting a base slated for closure just because itwas attached to the fort I was assigned to. Fought to line up our deploymentsso we weren't waving at one another as we swapped places. And now, each of ustwo deployments in, I wonder if we spent so much time and effort trying to betogether that we don't know how to exist together anymore.

He flicks crumbs across his plate as we sit insilence, his foot bouncing nervously beneath the table. It's a twitch he'snever had before and I don't know what to think of it. Shouldn't we be happy?Crawling all over one another and ravenous?

Peeta takes a deep breath and I look up to findhim already watching me. “Think I'll unpack...since I'm awake now.”

“Okay,” I say, pushing away the guilt that Iwoke him after so little sleep when I’ve wasted almost an entire day moping inbed.

We move around one another, returning personalitems to their places, shoving one load after another into the washing machine,wiping away the fine layer of powdered sand that’s accumulated on almosteverything. We barely speak, just two ghosts sharing a house. I'm not even sureI'd call it a home.

“Grocery shopping?” he suggests after we'vestored our footlockers in the garage and I nod. I can't even look at him as wedress, afraid I'll find new scars or markings on his body that tell the talesof whatever horrors he lived through. And I don't feel his eyes on me either.

“Your car or mine?” he asks softly as he doubleknots his shoes.

“Mine,” I say automatically, and he nods butstill tucks his keys into his jeans pocket. I catch a brief glimpse of hisairborne keychain, dulled a little but still attached to his house key.

We limit our conversation to the necessary whilewe drive to the grocery store, and while we fill our cart. At one point, herests a palm on the small of my back as he leans around me to grab a box ofcrackers while I read a label and try not to fall apart at the minute touch.The heat of his hand sears through my shirt, and I lean back into it. When hemoves away, the disappointment rushes through me, swift and painful.

He tosses the box of crackers into the cart andlooks back at me, a small and hesitant smile curving his lips up just on oneside. And I can't take it anymore, pretending like everything's normal and fineand I’m not five seconds from falling apart. I drop the saltines on the groundand fling myself at him.

He only hesitates a second before his arms surgearound me and he buries his face in my neck, releasing a quiet shuddering noisethat might be a sob or a sigh of relief. I still shake with fears anduncertainties, my fingers digging into the back of his neck to make sure hedoesn't vanish from my arms. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips touchmy neck. And I don't care that we're in the middle of a grocery store with adozen people muttering in discontent as they have to maneuver their cartsaround us.

“What’s happening to us, Katniss?” he whispers,and I know he’s not talking about the nightmares or the shortened tempers, butthe apathy. The need to not make a big deal out of things, not even a reunionafter an entire year apart. Or the fact that it’s easier to ignore the possibilityof hurt or death or worse because if you think about it, you’ll go mad.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“I missed you so much it physically hurts,” hesays, his arms shaking against me for a moment. I think about how many timesthese arms have been my refuge from the world. Always so warm and strong.

“Me, too,” I admit. But we’ve opened thefloodgates and words pour forth from his lips.

“It was bad enough being here and watching thenews. I’d go fucking crazy watching it, looking for you in the footage, hopingI’d get just a glimpse of you and dreading it at the same time. But being therewas a million times worse. Every time we got called for medevac or to moveH.R., I’d feel ill, certain that I’d be seeing your face or your name on acasket and knowing it’d be more than I could bear. Katniss, I don’t know if I’dever be happy again if I lost you.”

My eyes burn with unshed tears. I should tellhim about my nightmares, too. RPG’s and planes shot from the sky. The wordsstick in my throat, and then someone behind us clears theirs impatiently. Iswipe at my eyes as Peeta releases me and we step apart enough to look at theintruder.

“Excuse me. You’re blocking the shelf,” shesays, oblivious to or blatantly ignoring the obvious tears in both our eyes. Areminder that this is not the place for either of us to break down. Not with anaudience.

“Thank you for your patience,” Peeta says toher, bending to scoop the dropped box of crackers off the floor and depositingit in our cart as we walk away. Only this time, we join hands and each use onehand to steer the cart.

Our conversation is still somewhat stilted afterthat, and maybe it will be for awhile as we adjust back to each other’spresence, to the comfort of relative safety and the absence of the fears of thenight.

We pay for our groceries and I manage to get ushome without incident. As I cut off the engine, Peeta reaches out a hand tosqueeze my thigh and I look up at him while I press to shut the garage door,the remote now with a fresh battery. His thumb rubs up and down my thigh, asoothing touch along a rubbed raw nerve.

The air around us already hangs heavy withhumidity, but under his steady gaze, it thickens until it’s almost stifling. Heleans towards me and my grip on the steering wheel tightens. Peeta haltshalfway between us, his eyes flickering down to my mouth and then away with anearly inaudible sigh. For now, I will ignore the voice in the back of my headthat insists there’s no point. One or both of us will just be heading back outthe door in six to twelve months. A seesaw of adjustment to life and thensurvival. Or maybe they’re just two different kinds of survival. But I refuseto let this wall stand between us a second longer.

With my hands firm on the steering wheel, I moveto meet him over the gearshift and capture his lips with mine. His fingers onmy thigh clench and he brings his other hand up to hold me to him, his palmwarm on the side of my neck, his thumb tracing a path from the corner of mymouth to the edge of my jaw and back again. And I can't believe we waited thislong. I let go of the steering wheel and grip his shirt instead, yankingroughly on the fabric, needlessly because he’s not pulling back or going anywhere.

He tilts his head and I open my mouth withouthim asking, because I need this kiss right now. Right here. The soft tremorthat shakes through me at the first touch of his tongue to mine. We are sloppyand graceless, but one kiss only makes me want more. All too soon, though,Peeta gently separates our mouths with one last suckle of my bottom lip betweenhis.

“We should get the cold items put away beforethey all melt,” he croaks and I nod, although I’d much rather kiss him for thenext hour. Releasing my leg to open his door, Peeta kisses the tip of my noseand smiles at me.

With each mundane task that we complete, thegaping wound between us knits together. A gradual healing. By the time we’vefinished putting our groceries away and managed to prepare and consume a meallike human beings, I’m thinking of tonight, about spooning with him in bed,less in terms of something we just do and more in terms of the comfort that itmight provide.

When Peeta stifles a massive yawn, I suggestheading to bed, even though I’m not tired yet. He has to be beyond exhausted.Within seconds of crawling into bed, his breathing evens out and I lay in thecircle of his arms, listening to the calm sounds of spring outside our openwindow.

Eventually, sleep takes me as well, and while Istill see things I’d rather not, they’re easier to face with Peeta’s arms warmand steady around me.

Some time during the night, I wake to darknessand feather soft touches drifting up and down my side, beneath my shirt, aroundto my belly and up my ribs, back down and around to my side. Over my hip, thetouches dulled through the fabric of my shorts, igniting on my thighs before hereturns to my torso. For a second, I wonder if he’s even awake, but then hislips brush over my neck and I shiver. Peeta’s touches halt and I bite my lip,wanting him to continue.

“Why’d you stop?” I finally whisper.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers back.

“I don’t mind,” I say and rest my hand over his,guiding it in the soft caresses for a moment before I tuck my hands beneath mycheek and relax into his touch as he continues unguided. Each delicate brush ofhis fingers lulls me deeper into a boneless state of bliss, reminding me ofjust how starved I’ve been for something like this, for the softness of hisloving touches. For the feel of him beside me in the darkness.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” he whispersand kisses the back of my neck.

“No,” I murmur, content to lay here and let himkeep doing what he’s doing.

“I’m thinking about that quart of chocolate icecream in the freezer.” It’s not what I was expecting him to say, but my eyesjump open as the idea takes hold.

“You have my attention,” I say and he chucklesbefore kissing my neck again. Then he’s up and tugging me off the bed. We hurryinto the kitchen, laughing as I slide across the floor in my socked feet. Peetagrabs the ice cream while I get the bowls and spoons. Within minutes, we’reseated at the table and enjoying the frozen treat.

“Dear diary,” I say as I moan around my firstspoonful and then stare at the smeared reflection of my face in the bowl of thespoon. “It has been seven months since my last ice cream. And even then, it wasmelted by the time I got to eat it.”

“That’s just sad,” Peeta says and grabs thecontainer, adding another scoop to mine. “You need to catch up.”

“That’s a lot of empty calories,” I protest andhe shakes his head.

“We’ll burn them off later,” he says, andalthough the comment could be perfectly innocent, my stomach does a strangeflip and warmth pools in my chest in spite of the freezing chocolate in mymouth.

Peeta keeps eating, oblivious to the effect ofhis comment, and so I continue to spoon one bite after another into my mouth,savoring it like I haven’t savored anything in months. In between bites, wemanage to open a little more, share a few of the lighter tales of our timeoverseas. It’s relaxing, sitting here enjoying a midnight snack, him in hisboxer briefs and a plain white t-shirt, me in my pajama shorts and a tank top.It feels like something we could do everyday, made special in its normalcy.Eventually, though, our spoons both scrape our bowls to get the last melteddrops. I tip my bowl up and drink what the spoon can’t get.

“Are they useful calories if they’re slurped?”Peeta asks. When I lower my bowl to scowl at him, he’s grinning, blue eyessparkling in laughter. And for just a second, I see the eyes of the boy I fellin love with in the face of the man I still can’t survive without. My bowl hitsthe table with a loud clink and I wrinkle my nose at him. He bites hislip, like he’s trying not to laugh out loud.

“What?” I ask sharply.

“Nothing,” he says as he gathers both our bowlsand rinses them before loading them in the dishwasher. I toss the ice creamback in the freezer and set my hands on my hips to glare at him. “It’s just,you’ve got some ice cream on your chin.”

I swipe at my chin as unwanted heat floods mycheeks and spreads down my neck. Here I was thinking maybe our relaxing midnightsnack would help us leap the last unspoken hurdle, and I can’t even eat like anadult. Oh so sexy. But Peeta’s smile won’t be contained as he moves to stand infront of me and lifts his hand to my face.

“You missed,” he whispers, swiping his thumbover my chin. “And you call yourself a sharp shooter.”

His hand leaves me and his eyes still dance withmirth as he sucks the ice cream from his skin. In a flash, I am heated andrestless, unable to look away from his pink lips as they pucker around histhumb or the deep pools of blue as he watches me.

“That was mine,” I whisper and he pauses withhis thumb still in his mouth. When he removes it, the silence of the kitchenshatters with the soft sucking noise of release.

“Come and get it,” he breathes. We stare at oneanother for what feels like ages, the moment strung tighter than a bow ready tofire. We snap at the same time, mouths colliding and hands grasping shirts andhair.

Peeta steps forward, forcing me back until I’msandwiched between him and the refrigerator. His mouth slants over mine againand again, ravenous and demanding. I can’t tell my moans from his as Ifrantically relearn the feel of his hair, the back of his neck, his shouldersbeneath a soft cotton shirt. The taste of his tongue and the ridges of hismouth. When his hand cups my breast and kneads it in the same rhythm as thehand massaging the back of my neck, my fingers clench, scraping my nails overhis skin. His hips thrust into me and we both moan as my stomach somersaultsfrom hungry to rapacious.

Peeta flattens his body against mine and triesto say something that gets lost between our joined lips. His arms circle me, asteel band of support and I lift my feet to wrap my legs around his hips,trusting that he won’t drop me. With careful steps, he walks us back to thebedroom, but I refuse to stop kissing him. A year. An entire yearwithout his lips and hands on me.

We need to catch up.

When his knees hit the bed, our mouths joltapart and I giggle as we flop onto it, Peeta’s hands and the soft mattressbracing the fall as we bounce and he smiles at me before he resumes kissing me,our hips pressed together as we shift restlessly against one another. My feetcaress over the backs of his thighs and his hands encourage me, skimming overmy legs and grasping my ankle to wrap my leg around him again.

I want our shirts off. I can feel the heat ofhim burning through the fabric that still separates us. I want it unfilteredand undiluted on my bare skin. But I don’t want to stop kissing him to tell himthat either, so I leave the clothes and let the need build and scratch at thehairs on his neck and the back of his head.

After who knows how many minutes of this, hecomes up panting and tears at my shirt. Relieved, I arch my back and lift myarms so he can remove it to throw it across the room. I’m expecting him to takehis off, too, and gasp as he instead fuses our mouths together, the cotton ofhis shirt dragging over my nipples. The unexpected stimulation does wickedthings to my nerves, my legs pulling him closer in response, until the hardridge of his arousal presses into the soft folds of mine. His hips buck in myembrace, the sudden pressure sending a frisson of need all the way out to myfingertips.

“Katniss,” he gasps as he lifts his head to transferhis mouth to my throat. Each word he speaks is kissed into my skin, lower andlower on my body. “Hold. Onto. Something,” he warns, pausing only to give eachbreast one quick, hard suck and a moan of appreciation before he moves on. “Ihave an entire year of not tasting you to make up for.” Until he reaches mypajama shorts and silently slides them and my panties down my legs, lays mebare to his gaze. I slip my hands beneath the pillow and grab hold of it whilehe stares at me.

“Say something,” I whisper when he remains quietand still, staring between my legs beyond the point where I am still confidentin his desire for me.

“Words aren’t enough to describe how incredibleyou are. I’ll just have to show you,” he murmurs.

The bed bounces as he drops heavily between mylegs. With no warning or preamble, he wraps his hands beneath my thighs andholds me open, his mouth descends and he moans loudly as he suckles my folds.At first, I squirm, the sensation of being licked there distant and no longerfamiliar. But Peeta doesn’t let me hide behind shyness or uncertainty. Hismouth is on a quest, and before long, I’ve forgotten time and distance,writhing beneath the onslaught that sets my entire body aflame with need.

I grip his hair and then mine. The sheets andthen his hair again. I watch him until I can’t, my body taking over andbanishing thought in favor of feeling as I crest and shudder, moaning gibberishinto the night.

Instead of stopping, though, Peeta keeps going.His tongue pushing deep inside me to drink of me as I tremble and yell that Ican’t. But apparently, I can, as he sends me careening over another peak whenhe flicks his tongue over my clit then sucks it into his mouth.

Falling limp, on the bed, I gasp for air andgroan in beautiful agony. Still, Peeta gives me no reprieve, sliding his handsover my legs until he grips my calves and pushes my knees up until they touchmy ribs.

“Peeta, please,” I beg, unable to articulate thesearing feeling I can’t escape as his mouth continues it’s sweet torment. Hetakes it to mean that I want another, but it feels so good that each swipe ofhis tongue actually hurts. “Too much,” I finally manage to gasp.

Undeterred, Peeta’s head shakes as though he’stelling me “no,” but the result is a streak of pleasure so acute that I screamand kick wildly, thrashing on the bed violently enough to unseat him.

“Fuck!” I hear him exclaim, followed by a loudthud, but I am so lost in the shudders still wracking my body that I don’trealize what’s happened until the pounding of my heart calms enough for me tohear clearly again. It’s only then that I notice that Peeta’s not between mylegs any more. Not even touching me nor even on the bed.

“Peeta?” I ask hesitantly and his laughterdrifts up to me from the floor at the foot of the bed. Gathering my wits, Ishift to the edge and peer down at him. He’s lying on his back, looking up atme with a pleased grin on his face, one hand behind his head and the otherresting leisurely on his stomach. If it weren’t for the obvious strain of hiscock against the cotton of his briefs, I’d think he was just reclining downthere to get a rest.

“What happened?” I ask, self-consciously runninga hand through my own hair and tucking strands back behind my ears.

“You came so hard, you kicked me off the bed,”he says, but he doesn’t seem too upset about it. He reaches up and grasps mywrist. “Come here.”

I squeal as he tugs me over the edge and ontohis chest, but then I let go any embarrassment or doubt as he pulls me down tokiss him again. This time, it’s leisurely, allowing me a chance to recover fromwhatever the hell it is he just did to me. He reaches up and yanks the duvetdown to cover us both as he ends the kiss, his arms cuddle me to his chest andI settle my head on his shoulder. He’s still hard against me, but doesn’t seemto be in a rush to find his own relief. As it was when I woke earlier, his handtraces delicately over my skin, my back this time.

A restless longing takes place in my breast, andeven though he seems content to take things slow, this kind of hunger won’t besated easily. When he makes no move, I push myself off his chest and sit,straddling his hips.

“Where’re you going?” he asks quietly.

“Nowhere,” I tell him, but make my fingers walkdown his torso towards myself.

His eyes jump between my hands and my face as Iwatch him for any sign that he doesn’t want this as much as I do, but when myfingers curl beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, he lifts his hips fromthe floor and pushes them down his legs. I move my hips, dragging my still wetlips over the length of his cock. With a curse, Peeta drops his hips back tothe floor, his shorts still somewhere on his legs as I take him in hand andkeep up the steady revolutions of my hips over him, sliding him through both myhand and my lips.

“Oh fuck me, that feels like heaven,” he groans,eyes riveted to what I’m doing to him. I bite my lip and brace a hand on histhigh, and even though I just came three times on the bed, I already wantanother. Heat and blood pulse through me as I move and Peeta whines a little,his hands massaging my thighs.

I started this to tease him, but it quickly hasme just as excited as him. I let go of his cock and instead grip his shirt,tugging on it like it’s a set of reins and the only thing keeping me frombucking wildly on top of him.

“Katniss, please,” he begs and bites his lip,lifts his head and smacks it back on the floor in distress. “I wanna cum insideyou.”

With a nod, I shift myself and he aligns us,releasing a string of expletives as I sink down onto him, his right leg kickingin rapid succession as he tries to hold back. Taking his face in my hands, Ibend over and kiss him as we move. Short, sweet tastes as I slide up and downhis cock. Peeta’s arms wrap around me, hold me close as he draws hearts andswirls on my back, guides my hips in riding him. I try to keep it slow, but hekneads my ass and pushes my hips so they roll over him instead of bouncing. Mybody grasps hold of the pleasure and I take it, following his lead until mylegs start to cramp and I have to straighten them alongside his, laying my bodyflat on top of him.

When I can move again, I slide up his body andkeen into the night as he curses beneath me. It’s the best of both, taking hiscock in and out while still grinding my clit against him. I grab his chin andhold him so I can stare into his eyes, foggy with need and deeper than theocean. He whispers to me, dirty words in broken phrases.

“I dreamt about this every night, alone in ourbed and then in my bunk. How fuckin’ sexy you are when you’re on top of me, mycock deep inside you. Jerking myself off when my balls ached with the need tocome. I’d have to bite my lips so no one would here me and blow my load in ashirt or a sock and do laundry the next day. Fuck, Katniss,” he breaks off toswallow and kiss me a moment before I push his head back to the floor because Iwant his words right now.

“I’ve been starving for the feel of your lips anywhereon me I could get them, your legs around me, and fuck, your tits on my chest,god they feel so good there. And your pussy. I’ve needed your pussy on my cockevery day since the day you left. Fucking starving so bad for the clench ofyour walls and the smoke in your eyes as you come for me.”

I grip his shoulder and move faster, his wordsdrawing forth a greater arousal and making the slide smooth and easy asbreathing. But it’s not enough to get me there. I whimper and tell him that Ineed more and he grips my thighs, spreading me wide over him as he bends hisknees and leverages himself on his feet to thrust up into me. He’s groaningloudly, getting close as I still lag behind him. And for some reason I think ofthe night I first mentioned the possibility of our future together. I had noidea where we’d be on this night, but I remember the tremulous way he’d offeredme an out, if I’d wanted it. How scared and brave he’d looked as he tried tohide the hurt that just the thought my leaving caused him. Then how he cededcontrol to me without question and let me fuck myself sore and hoarse on him.

“Pull my hair, Peeta,” I urge and brace myselfto help.

“What?” he asks with wide eyes.

“Pull my fucking hair,” I order him and his handshifts to grip the short locks. Then I borrow the words that sent me hurtlingtowards my own orgasm all those years ago. I’ve never forgotten them. “Now takewhat you want. Your cock wants it so bad. I can feel it. Hot and pulsinginside of me.”

He makes a strangled noise as his fingers tanglein my hair and his hand yanks on me, slamming our bodies together again andagain as pain tingles across my scalp then mellows into pleasure.

“Stop holding back and fill me with your fuckingcum,” I demand and my muscles ache with the effort of maintaining this pace,but he shouts my name and his hips jerk erratically as his eyes squeeze shut.He stops moving, but I keep going, milking him until he grabs my ass and shovesme down onto him even as he thrusts up into me one last time. We remain there,hips suspended above the floor while he finishes with an elongated moan.

When he relaxes, dropping us to the floor, Itake his lips with mine and kiss the shuddering breaths from his throat. Hishands flex and clench on my ass and then start my hips rolling again, andbefore I can think or prepare myself, I shatter with a soft sigh, my clitpulsing against him as warmth and wonderment floods through me.

Peeta makes a sound of contentment in his throatas his leg spasms once more before we lay there, a mess of heavy breathing andfinally sated bodies.

“Too long,” he groans, his voice rumbling in hischest beneath my cheek. “A year is far too fucking long to go without you.”

“Yeah,” I agree. Then, because I am an idiot anddon’t think before I speak when I am a melted puddle spread across him, I saysomething stupid. “How long do you think we can live like this?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, shifting us so thatwe’re eye to eye. “But I’m willing to work for us for the rest of my life, ifthat’s what it takes, Katniss.”

“Me, too,” I whisper and kiss him once more toseal the promise.

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