A/N: Again, mostly run ons. This is only twenty-five because I ran out of words. Reviews are love. Thanks for reading. -Taryn(:
Some people think she loves him because he is handsome, or because of what they've been through.. maybe even because of the guilt, but really, honestly, she loves him most because of his kindness.
The tap of her fingernails on the counter as they argue, the tap of her elbow in his ribs when he says something a notch too loud, and even the way she taps her finger against his nose, makes him shudder a little on the inside.
She hates roses, a lot, and he knows, but not primroses, surely, so he picks a few on his way home from work and when he gets there to find she's on the couch, curled up with an infant at her breast, he tucks the yellow primrose behind one of her ears and she smiles sleepily at him, grey eyes bleary, her face flushed as he crouches in front of the couch, using the other flower to tickle the child's face, downy petals dragging at flawless pale skin, as Dandelion cries out in mirth.
She watches from across the street, arms crossed over her chest, feeling faintly amused as her husband lifts their four year old daughter onto his shoulders and shouts about the new raisin bread special, as Dany echos her daddy word for word, waving around a flier above his head of blonde curls, the citizens of District 12 passing them and the bakery by with a free sweet in hand, laughing at the sight of her husband juggling both daughter and a bag of cookies.
Her legs straddle his hips as she leans over him, shaking his shoulders at first, then her fingers are tracing the edge of his long nose and gliding down his jaw, jabbing him on the cheekbone, asking over and over again for him to open his damn eyes, but he cherishes her worry too much, the smile slowly building and building until he's laughing and she is pissed, because she thought he was actually hurt when he fell.
She is tired and she is having one of those days where getting out of bed is just too much, so he tries to get along all on his own, he tries to get the kids ready for school, but Dany's hair proves to be too hard and he just condenses all of the long blonde hair into a fist and uses a rubber band, the poor girl running down the street, all goofy grin and a bobbing knot of hair on the top of her head.
They want to cut down her woods, make new houses, build more stores and a hospital and she watches the machines cut down the ancient timber... her trees, her home, her life, while sitting on top of the bakery roof, trying desperately not to cry as his arms pull her into his chest and he strokes her hair, promising her that they can't take away her memories.
She runs her hand across the dyed white dress that he has just thrown across the bed and she wonders where he found something so beautiful... so stunning, its beaded, pearled fabric like her old wedding dress, but not, but more genuine and less regal and perfect, the slight threadbare damage and old smell reminding her that hundreds of other brides in District 12 had worn the same thing.
09: Booth (AU)
He always waits for her, even if the day is a busy or a slow one.. he paces behind the bakery's front counter, keeping one eyes on the empty booth in the farthest most shadowed corner of the shop, a fresh cheese-bun on hand, waiting for the strange girl with such stunning black hair and misted grey eyes that the poor, average baker boy could not help but be pulled under by her mystic.
10: Coffee (AU and sheepishly, the worst run-on)
She blows the strands of hair out of her face and adjusts the apron tied around her waist when she sees the handsome blonde haired and blue eyed regular enter the shop, and she knows it's silly, and that the other girls mutter behind her back.. and it wasn't always this way, she used to treat him just like any other customer.. that was until he began flirting, and she couldn't deny that no one had ever treated her like that.. like this.. so when he steps up to the counter and her co-worker Sue moves to take his order, she can't help but smile when he shakes his head, frowning, and points at her.
He is snappy today and she is tired and both of them are fighting hard to stay out of their broken shells, to stay in the right reality, both of them wanting nothing more than to slip into either anger or depression... but still, they smile strained smiles when they pass each other in the hallway, both of them bouncing either a crying child on their hip or a wailing toddler in their arms, and the house is a mess at their backs, clothes and hair askew, unbathed; a complete and utter disaster.
There is something tragically beautiful about the way she stalls in her walk at the sight of Gale Hawthorne outside their house and when her face flairs into equal parts shock, and pain, and anger... but even he can't deny that the way she throws herself at Gale, beating one fist after another into his chest, makes it hard to misunderstand how much she must have loved him before he let her go.
Starting an argument with her is like engaging a wild bear, poking a feral dog that hasn't eaten in three years, taunting a mutt with razor sharp, inch long claws, that thirsts for blood, so, of course, whenever the opportunity presents itself, every single time, he smiles and pokes all the right spots, loving the way her anger animates her.
He laughs, every time, loudly, joyously, whenever he sees her waddling down the street of District 12 toward the bakery and all the customers glance at him in startlement or amusement, until he runs outside to offer his pregnant wife a hand.
There is no doubting the waste of life and people and objects the Capitol citizens were... even when she admitted it, Cinna was no exception to this, all his life wasted on something as silly as fashion designing, so when the new trends start to come back as deformed district and Capitol combinations and her teenage daughter really wants them, she gets furious at the waste of money her husband uses to oblige their little girl.
When he makes dinner it's always bread and grain and cheese-buns, when she makes dinner it's always her most latest catch; squirrel, fox, bird... when their daughter tries to make dinner for the first time on her thirtieth birthday, home early from school, she makes burnt pasta and diced, day old frozen fish... and her parents choke it down with smiles.
Sometimes he thinks she's racing him when they're in bed, like it's a game to her, making love, and he can't help it when she continues riding him, hard-pressed on not letting go, and he has to clutch her close to his chest, just to keep a hold of their rhythm, because she's just sprinting through the pleasure without feeling it.
Throughout her first pregnancy she had been snappy and easily angered and brash in many ways, so no difference, really, but she never was weak, that wasn't until the second pregnancy, with her little boy, and every other word out of Haymitch's mouth made her begin to weep and burst into sensitive displays of emotions, before running home to vomit away her morning sickness, all the while blaming Peeta and refusing him his place in their bed until come the day of the boy's birth.
There is a cold glint in his eyes as he shakes the hand of the new mayor of District 12, and she can't help but wonder why, until later that night, when he is smiling at the dinner table, burping a baby on one shoulder and bouncing their daughter on the other knee, and he laughing tells her he only wanted to make sure the mayor still thought him crazy.. that way he could get away with nearly anything and blame the Capitol.
Wait, she'd always breathe against his chest, when he was close and she would continue to twist closer to him, rocking her hips back and forth, rolling her body against his and then away again, biting into her cheek, trying desperately not to cry out, that is until his mouth latches onto a breast, tongue darting out, hot and wet, another hand rubbing at her thighs as he thrusts in one or twice; she lets go, finished, sucking in harsh breaths as her leg muscles and lower abdomen wither in a pleasure so potent it only seems right that he cries out along with it.
21: Freaked out
He's always freaked out when she stays out in the woods for too many hours or even over night, and the children start to look up at him with wide eyes from their breakfasts in the morning when they don't see their mommy before school, and he knows he shouldn't, but he yells at her when she gets home anyway, and she always gets cold, then tender... once she realizes how terrified she still makes him.
He is ashamed of the way he stares at her, sometimes, especially if she's holding a baby in her arms or she has Dandelion by the hand.. still, he stares, noting the wider hips thanks to motherhood, loving the sweep of her breasts against her shirt, that sweet narrowing of her waist, braid whisking back and forth with her rounded-out backside... yes, very ashamed.
Their son is super sensitive, like the father, Haymitch likes to tease, so when she irritatedly smashes a moth that had been gnawing at her shirt, their five year old son flies into a furious, tearful defense for the dead insect and promises he hates his mommy forever, and the look of hurt in her face, the widening of those grey eyes as if she just realized she made a huge mistakes takes his breath away.
He moans and she is silent, most of the time... so when they have a flurried love making outside the back of the bakery in a patch of grass next to a replanted apple tree, he is being.. more forceful than usual, as he roughly picks her up by the thighs, effortlessly lifting her and pushing her back into the tree, sucking at her neck as he thrusts into her, almost animalistically, and this time she is the one biting back moans and cries of pleasure, fingernails digging into his upper back.
When she refused him, he would suck it up, he grew used to it, hardened himself to it over their years of turmoil love, but when he refused her, she slipped into a dark place where nothing was right, where the lines were blurred between cold and warm, crime and justice, kindness and cruelty, until wounded, he came to her again, and did not refuse her love.