This is my collection of Twilight one shots. Yayy! Most of them are random ideas I've thought of and just felt like writing, so I thought I'd put 'em all together. : ) I'm trying to work on my perspectives and writing styles, so any criticism, help, or comments you can give are well appreciated! Enjoy, and please review!

I've written quite a few already, and this is one of my favorites.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. She owns all.

Characters/Pairings: Bella/Edward

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Reverie

Reverie: rev·er·ie (rev-uh-ree)

-noun.

1. A state of dreamy meditation or fanciful musing: lost in reverie.

They lay in his bed together, peaceful and serene, the silence somehow powerful. He has his arms around her, lips in her hair, she is relaxed against his chest.

She closes her eyes, imagining, her mind drifting off into wonderful reveries. If only he would let her be in charge of how far they could or couldn't go, they wouldn't be so still right now. No, they would be doing something completely different.

First she would bring his mouth down to hers, make him kiss her like they'd never kissed before. She would open her mouth, slide her tongue into his, and he wouldn't protest, wouldn't pull away. Just hold her tighter, wrap his arms around her.

Then her hands would slide down to his chest, pull his shirt from his shoulders. And her fingertips would dance on the icy planes, the beautiful marble sculpture that belonged to her.

Still kissing her, his hands would move from tightly around her waist up to her blouse, begin to unfasten it, his fingers lingering at her neck, making her shiver. And his fingers would move down to the next button, and the next-

2. A daydream.

"What are you thinking, love?" He prods her back to reality, out of her reverie.

She can feel her cheeks heating. "N-nothing," she mumbles. "Just daydreaming."

"About me, I hope?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. Oh, how he loves the flush on her face.

"Always."

3. A fantastic, visionary, or impractical idea: reveries that will never come to fruition.

She had so much faith in him, believed him to be much more than he was. He wasn't good, he wasn't an angel like she thought. She loved him too much, much more than he was worthy of.

He felt like a dirty liar, letting her believe this. And he tried to convince her otherwise, as often as possible. But still she believed the best. She was naïve, innocent, trusting. He was dangerous, misleading, selfish. He wasn't enough for her.

He felt guilty that he couldn't give her a normal relationship. Instead they had to hold their desires back, always being careful. He knew what she wanted, but she didn't understand that he wanted it just as much as she did.

He imagined himself holding her to him, leaning in and kissing her. Properly, this time. Not a chaste peck, a real kiss. Deep, endless, and perfect. Running his hands over her body, touching her the way she wanted to be touched.

Never going to happen. Implausible. Beautiful, satisfying, but unrealistic.

This was a reverie, nothing more.