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 somewhat
angsty 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 for the smut. SMUT I SAY!
A/N: HR in this instance stands for Human Remains. There’s no gore or graphic violence in this, but there is a healthy dose of angst. Thank you @peetabreadgirl for pre-reading.
My boots scrape the pavement as I stop to stare up and down the parking lot aisles. I find at least four Jeep-shaped vehicles under black covers and sigh, drop my bag on the pavement, and search through the pockets for my keys. Not even my car keys, either. Customs fucked up my packing job and I’m pretty sure they wound up back in my footlocker. I find the keys 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 home keychain. Yanking them out, I listen to the jingle of home with the distant growl of a C-130 spooling up its engines. The humid North Carolina air presses down on my lungs and I blink in the fading light.
It’s late. I’m exhausted and hungry. And the red REMOVE BEFORE FLIGHT tag on my keys is a one-two punch to the face. I don’t even know where he is right now. He was supposed to be home sometime last week, although I don’t know the exact date, but the fact that he wasn’t here to meet me means he was delayed somewhere. Or something far worse that I am not prepared to contemplate on four hours of shitty sleep on a cramped rotator flight and an empty stomach.
Pocketing my car keys, I slam my footlocker shut and lock it back up, hefting my bag back on my shoulder and hauling the trunk onto its wheels to continue my solitary trek. I hit the lock button on the key fob twice and hope my battery didn’t die while I’ve been gone. I’ve got jumpers, but no one I feel comfortable inconveniencing. Most of the others have already gone home. Prim couldn’t be here this time, unable to get away from med school. 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.