#sorry 2 everyone there is no end in sight for these edits until saturday

[ikjun]

We have to get back to the palace.

THE KING: ETERNAL MONARCH | EP. 14 dir. Baek Sang-hoon, Jung Ji-hyun, Yoo Je-won

[sugarkinky]

Gamers gotta game | 2 |

Pairing: Gamer!jungkook x Nerd!Reader x Fuckboy!Jimin  Genre: Future smut, fluff and angst.  Warnings: More angst than anything on this part, mentions of alcohol abuse.  A/N: I’m happy to see that many of you liked the first part, this is a slow-burn fic so bear with me. *gif not mine*

1 | 2 

PART 2

▪♡▪

10:15

You felt like your hangover from yesterday was there again, even if you didn’t drink anything the night before. It felt like your head was about to explode when you got up. Sundays are pretty lazy for you, there is something in the vibe of it that makes you incapable of being productive.

There is no need to get out of your PJs, so you just lay on the small couch and watch some Netflix on your cellphone. Maybe Kenny is already up so you decide to text her, just to see if she’s ok with the hole Seokjin ordeal.

But then you see something that makes you look at it twice, a message… From Jimin?

Okay, not that big of a deal. He was drunk, you saw him and he may remembered you. That doesn’t mean he changed or will change. Come on, you don’t have to change someone, you’re not some kind of savior of boys who can’t keep it on his pants right?

You don’t know if you reply it or not, but for your own safety you just delete the text and his number all together. It was about time.

▪♡▪

Freshmen year.

There are some things you couldn’t quite understand about your body, how it shivers when next to him, the way you’ll blush every time he say something about you or your heart stopping just because of the sight of him. You were totally fucked and with a massive crush on him.

It all started by his way of talking to you, always sweet and really listening you. The conversations weren’t the boring type, you could spend hours talking to him and he seemed to get everything you were saying. After some classes together, you both ended up meeting for projects and studying for exams on the library. That seemed pretty friendly and at that point you felt like it was good this way, he was a good friend.

One day, things got weird between you two. After the first year’s midterm exams you both went to a party because Jimin got in this frat and needed to bring as many people as possible to cheer for him in a kind of “initiation”. You went with Kenny and that was your very first party, so she dolled you up. When you got there it was loud and too crowded for you, but since Jimin wanted you there you stayed.

“Y/N, you made it!” Jimin said when you saw him in the kitchen.

“Yeah, when did you got here?”

“Not long ago, do you drink?” He asked you with some random bottle in hand.

“Sure.”

The night went by, soon enough you’ve learned that Jimin liked drinking a little too much. The said “initiation” was actually many drinking games with some weird penalties, like twerking in front of everybody. Jimin was pretty good at that, you truly started having fun when they announced the final game: chicken fight. The only problem was that the newcomers should have a partner to put on his back. The time Jimin glanced a look at you, you started to shake your head as saying “please no”.

“Come on, Y/N. Do it for me, please?” The puppy eyes were your weak spot.

“Fine but I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“Not a problem you can go with some of my clothes.”

Not necessary to say that the game was a total mess, Jimin almost couldn’t keep straight because of how wasted he was. But you didn’t drink that much so it wasn’t that difficult to beat the other girls. You both got to the last match and Jimin was happy and giggling.

“Y/N, you’re amazing.” You blushed at that, maybe the alcohol finally got to you.

“Let’s win this thing!”

And after what felt like a half of an hour you beat the other girl down and everybody cheered for you two. When get down from Jimin shoulders, he embraced you in a hug.

“I can’t believe you did it. WE DID IT.” He got a big smile on his face that harmed you up.

But then you felt that it was too close for you and started panicking a little, that’s when Jimin closed the space between you two and got his lips on yours. Nobody seemed to notice or care for that matter, they were too drunk for this.

“Hum, I need to go to the bathroom…”

So you almost trip getting out of the pool and heading to upstairs where your clothes were.

▪♡▪

Your Monday’s classes were you favorites, even it being Monday, Econometrics and Statistics were the reasons you chased the Economics major. At the end of the morning classes you got a message from Kenny inviting you to lunch.

“Do you even know the hellhole I went through because of you?”

“I’m sorry.” She looked sad and you know why.

“Hey, I know that something went wrong Saturday. Was it Seokjin?”

“Yeah… He told me that he liked this girl and…” She was almost crying and you embrace her in a hug.

“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m fine, it was just an enormous crush no biggie.” You started laughing with her at that.

“So… Did he ditched you to go to her?”

“I wish he has done that, he asked me to play Cupid for him. I’m so angry at myself that I did it. He’s not a bad guy but damn… I can’t believe he’s that stupid.”

“Let’s change the subject, how’s your midterm project going?” Kenny made part of the Art’s Department and everyone on it had to submit twice a year to the University Art Festival, even her Audiovisual major.

“I feel stuck, it’s like I can’t vision it anymore.”

She once told you that her project were about history of our city photography, I pity her because it seems a lot of work for just one person to do. But you know she can do it, her last year’s short film were amazing, she’s brilliant with artistic stuff.

“Isn’t it too much for just you?”

“Actually, this year I can make some freshmen work for me to earn credits. I just didn’t decide who it will be.”

“WHAT? You have two months until the deadline.”

“I know, okay. I’m doing interviews this afternoon. The difficult part is done, I have the materials treated but analyzing and selecting them is not my cup of tea.”

“How many are they?”

“Around 200.”

“Girl…”

“I know right? How could you imagine this city would be that interesting.”

You both laugh at that.

“So… Do you have some time? I don’t really like meeting new people alone and those freshmen just scare me to death.”

“Just two hours, I have Statistics at 3 pm.”

“Wow, your major schedule is crazy.”

Oh, yeah it is. Ghosting Jimin made you pass more time between classes than in your own house. Worthy though, the Math Department had a good Statistics teacher. The Art’s Department is not that far from the cafeteria so you get there pretty fast, the interviews will happen in an empty classroom near the auditorium.

“At what time will they be here?”

“Probably in 20 minutes.”

And the first freshmen entered the room, she was a small girl with a timid smile called Mariam. She seemed fine but a little too clumsy, almost falling to sit on the chair.

“What are some of your interests in our department?”

“I like filmmaking and photography”

“Did you ever made part of an art project before?”

“Not really, I didn’t study arts in High School.” At that me and Kenny looked at each other, it is extremely difficult getting to any artistic related major without having any background. It’s like getting to a Med School without doing biology.

“How did you choose your degree?”

“Well… I always liked the cinematography studies I did for a Movie Club we hold with our history teacher. I never went to practice on it but I know the basics on cameras.”

“Right, I think you’re the only one showing up so…”

“Wait! I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers extended his class.” Two men entered the room with heavy breaths probably from running here. The one who talked had a quite long hair and was a little tanned. The other one… wait a minute, you knew him from the party, he was the one playing online games in his room.

“It’s fine… I know how Mr. Rogers is.”

“Well Mariam, I will let you know the results by email.” The interview continued with the one called Taehyung, but what you were looking at was Jungkook. He seemed to notice it as he stared at you for a second after turning his head away blushing.

“So you both are freshman?”

“Well… I’m a sophomore but I switched majors this year.”

In the end of the interview Kenny looked amused with Taehyung and his portfolio. Then it was Jungkook’s turn.

“Then… Jungkook, right?” He nodded “I’ve heard a lot about you in Ms. Turner class, you seem to be her favorite of your year.”

She knew him too?

“I… I’m sure it’s not true, she’s just very generous.” Kenny smiled at that, you knew that this one professor was hell on earth when it comes to personality.

“Okay, what editing programs can you work with?”

“PS, Illustrator, Corel, Lightroom and Luminar.”

“Well, have you worked with curation of photos for an exhibition?”

“Yes, back in High School.”

At the end of the interview you were running late for your class so you stared heading to the Math Department building. But before you could proceed, you saw Jungkook standing at the exit.

“Hum… Thank you for helping me at the party.”

“It was nothing.” He looked surprised that I talked to him directly. “I know how these parties are… Are you from the department?”

“Oh, no. Actually I’m just Kenny’s friend.”

“Well… I gotta go.”

“Hum… Yeah, see you.”

The man surely was not what you expected from the BTS frat house, he seemed a little lost and timid but maybe it was because you didn’t know him that well. One thing you’ve learned the past year is that you can’t be sure based on first impressions. 

▪♡▪

In the end Kenny opted for going with the last two freshmen but you didn’t see any of them for the next tree weeks. You and Kenny were lunching at the cafeteria when the both of them sat on the same table as you.

“Hey guys, are you done with the descriptions yet?” Kenny seemed worried, her deadline is next month.

“Not really, there are some things we would like to discuss about it.” Taehyung said.

“What about it?”

“I don’t think the photos make sense together yet.” That’s when Kenny took a long breath.

“I know right? But I don’t know what to do anymore.”

They all seemed lost on it. “Can I take a look on it?”

All three of them were surprised but Taehyung showed you the project on a folder. The images were incredibly good in quality for the time it was taken, but they didn’t seem to be from the same city. But one took your attention, it was a small market that was in front of your house with some old man in front of it.

“Why don’t you talk to these people? Maybe they can give you a hint of how these photos could make sense together.” Kenny scoffed at you.

“And where would we find them, on the cemetery?”

“No, dummy. This market is the one in front of my house, maybe you can talk to people nearby and see if there is someone from that time still alive, it’s called Oral History and maybe I can go with you and take some notes for my microeconomics class project.”

A/N: Even if this part ended up being longer, I don’t know if I really like it. I’ll try to do better for part 3, send me any feedback you think I need :)

[superbataddicted]

Writer’s Month 2020 (Day 6 - Part 2)

Day 6 Prompt: Ocean

Pairing: Superbat

Title: The Artist and his Florist - Chapter 6 - Part 2 - A Day Out

“Let’s go to the beach.”

The out-of-the-blue suggestion caught Bruce by surprise and he paused in his bouquet-making.

“It’s summer, you know.”

“But there’s nothing due this Saturday so let’s go, please!”

Dick was bouncing on his feet, clearly excited by the idea of sun, sand and sea. But Bruce didn’t share the same enthusiasm as him. Summer was their busiest and bouquets sold like hotcakes during the hot season. That was why they never took off during summer with the amount of sales they could make.

"Come on, Bruce...” Dick whined at the sight of his boss’ reluctance, “We’ve never done anything fun since he came. You and Clark and Alfred and Jon are always holding back. It’s like you’re all expecting something bad to happen.”

And Bruce shivered at how close Dick came to the truth, despite being in the dark. Dick didn’t know it all because he had nothing to do with the curse. He was but an orphan Bruce had met in this life and had then taken him under his wings.

To be honest, the four of them had been worrying. It had been six weeks since Clark found Bruce and nothing else had happened. The strangely peaceful times had them all feeling uneasy, and that was even more so with Clark, Alfred and Jon – their memories reminding them of Her and what She could do.

So they weren’t really in the mood for much. And Bruce had to admit that he hadn’t gone out with Dick like he used to, watching movies and visiting museums.

“Please, Bruce...” Dick begged again, “It’s just one afternoon and Jon promised to teach me how to swim.”

“You like him that much, huh...” Bruce smiled at the obvious adoration in Dick’s voice.

“Yup, I do,” Dick grinned, “He’s fun to be with and I hope he feels the same way too.”

Of course he does, Bruce thought to himself.

That was why Jon was always coming around, and Clark sometimes had to call Bruce to tell Jon to get his butt back to the shop and help.

Then his face darkened as another thought crossed Bruce’s mind. With the curse hanging over their head, would they ever work out?

Bruce had no answer to that question but he knew what he could do for now.

“Alright, let’s go then.”

And Dick whooped in joy, making Bruce smile again.

Rather than worry about when the axe would fall, maybe they should just go out and spend time together instead.

-

The beach wasn’t very far and their drive was short and sweet.

Bruce was glad they came. The sunshine, the clear skies, the sea breeze whipping at them – they had Bruce finally relaxing. He hadn’t realised until then, how much tension he had accumulated and it was a relief to feel them draining away.

“You don’t feel hot in that?” Clark eyed what Bruce was wearing.

“Nah....” Bruce slipped his glasses onto his head, “You should go and join them too.”

He nodded towards Dick and Jon. Unlike Bruce who was reclining in a deck chair under a shady umbrella, the two men were already in the water, having a swimming lesson. But in the eyes of Bruce, it looked more like frolicking than teaching.

“You should go,” Bruce turned to look at Clark, “I’m fine right here so don’t fret.”

But Clark didn’t get off the deck chair next to Bruce’s. Instead he sat sideways, bare feet on sand and arms on his thighs.

“Is all that because of the tattoo?” Clark finally asked what had been bugging him since they left.

Bruce slipped the sunglasses back on but didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorr...”

“Will you quit saying sorry,” Bruce sat up, frowning at Clark, “Will you stop taking all the blame on yourself. From what I’ve learn, I’m also at fault too. I must have said yes back then when you decided on that course of action.”

“But...”

“Look here, I wore this...” Bruce plucked at his white long-sleeved T-shirt, “Not because of this...” he lifted up his tattooed left arm, “I just don’t like too much sun on my skin. It turns me red as a lobster and then I peel.”

Clark didn’t look too convinced and Bruce became exasperated. He opened his mouth to say more but was doused instead.

“What the hell are you doing!” Bruce sputtered, wiping water from his eyes as he glared at the two mischief-makers.

“Thought we’ll help you both cool down,” Dick chortled, an empty pail in hand and an arm slung over Jon’s shoulder.

“I don’t think that’s enough,” Jon was laughing just as hard, “Maybe we should just drag them into the ocean.”

And he darted forward, tugging at Clark’s arm. With a chuckle, Clark shrugged off his Hawaiian shirt and stood up. He ran his hands through his hair, combing out droplets.

Bruce swallowed, mouth going dry. For Clark looked damn good, all toned and six-packed. His tattoo adding an exotic allure to his handsomeness.

“You can look a closer look if you want,” Clark winked and took a step towards Bruce while Dick and Jon oohed and ahhed.

Face burning, Bruce shot up from the chair. Before he could get away, Clark had swept him into his arms and the trio charged towards the sea, yelling as if they were pirates after a successful raid.

They all doved in, dunking Bruce in as well.

Bruce spluttered, eyes stinging from the saltwater. His white T-shirt was all wet, translucent and clingy. And now it was Clark’s turn to roam his eyes all over, making Bruce hot and bothered.

Then Jon and Dick attacked, splashing water with all their might. And Clark fought back, dragging Bruce in as well.

It was fun and it brought out smiles and grins on everyone.

To end the day, they drove up to lookout point high up on the cliffs. There, they watched the sunset – Jon and Dick huddled on a bench while Clark and Bruce leaned against the bonnet.

“I’m glad we came,” Bruce murmured, caught up by the beauty of it all.

Nodding his head, Clark added, “And I’ll be gladder if I can kiss you right now.”

Bruce blinked, hesitated for a moment before he turned to face Clark.

And Clark shifted nearer, head tilting, breath quickening and lips parting, and something dripped down, ruining the moment.

“What’s this?” Clark wiped off the red that wouldn’t stop flowing from his nose.

“That’s a nosebleed,” Bruce laughed, “Here, let me get a tissue...”

“Nosebleed?” Clark stared at the blood on his palm in bewilderment, “But I don’t fall sick.”

And Bruce froze, fear, cold and insidious, clutching his heart.

Clark suddenly dropped onto his knees, hacking out coughs that brought out blood which slipped through his fingers and stained the ground.

Jon and Dick were already rushing over but Bruce caught Clark first before he hit the ground.

No! Not now! Not now, please!

(I’ve edited Chapter 6 - Part 1 and added some stuff. Read again, if you like to.)

(Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 - Part 1)

(Next Chapter - Hurt/Comfort)

[everlarkficexchange]

Springtime Edition 2018.

These are the prompts we’ve received so far.

Crossed out prompts have already been selected and are being turned into fics!

I’d like to thank everyone who’s taken the time to come up with an idea and send it our way. Your prompts are the heart of the Exchange. Without them our lovely authors wouldn’t get to write all those beautiful fics. So, please, keep them coming!

You haven’t sent anything yet? Don’t worry, there’s still time. We’ll be receiving prompts until Mar 11.  Don’t be afraid to inspire us!

We have more than 100 prompts now! So make sure to  keep reading to see them all. Enjoy!

Prompts:

Prompt 1: “I wish that ball had hit you in the face!” [submitted by @peetaspikelets]

Prompt 2: Awkward or embarrassing job interview. [submitted by @peetaspikelets​]

Prompt 3: Personal trainer from hell! [submitted by @peetaspikelets​]

Prompt 4: Modern AU where katniss is a wedding planner and peeta is the caterer and her ex. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf​]

Prompt 5: Katniss + Peeta + Krazy Glue = ? (Seal wound? Office prank? How they meet? How they’re forced to speak?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 6: Desperate petite Katniss takes a job jumping out of a cake. [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 7: Young Peeta has an imaginary friend, Katniss, with superpower to help him when he’s alone or afraid, but something happens (good? bad?) and she becomes real. [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 8: Start your story at the end (like the backwards Seinfeld episode “The Betrayal” about a wedding in India) and reveal how it began at the end. [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 9: "Was she ever real?“ (SciFi Katniss is a cyborg or hologram.) [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 10: No games, but 16-year-old Seam girl Katniss is sent away to serve time for the killing of her sister’s murderer. She’s just returned to D12. How will she adjust? Who is still there? (mom, Gale, Madge, Sae, Darius, Peeta??) [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 11: Mom makes a new life for herself in D4. How would Katniss receive the news of her mother’s death at different times of her life (at 20-something while adjusting to life in post-war D12; after becoming a mother herself in her late 30s/early 40s; after becoming a grandmother in her 60s/70s). [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 12: Wait, what?! What do you mean, “We’re not exclusively dating”?! [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 13: Private eye Peeta and the dame who hires him, Katniss, in an old fashioned mystery turned romance. Bonus points for using 1920/30s turns of phrase. [submitted by @noneyabidnes]

Prompt 14: Planning and executing a first birthday party for oldest toastbaby. [submitted by @booksrockmyface]

Prompt 15: Pirate Katniss and wealthy nobalmen Peeta’s worlds collide. [submitted by @7-ah]

Prompt 16: Soulmate AU: Katniss has 2 soulmates/marks/indication of some sort, after the loss of her first, she’s terrified to have loved and lost again. Until Peeta. [submitted by @7-ah]

Prompt 17: Saying “I love you” for the first time at the worst possible moment. [submitted by @xerxia31]

Prompt 18: Canon/Canon Compliant: How about Katniss wanting to have the little youngest toastbaby, and being nervous to ask Peeta(and of course, excited when he says yes!)? [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 19: Awkward first date in high school, could involve a bet or a dare. [submitted by @savedbyyeezus]

Prompt 20: A fix about Katniss and Peeta having an arranged or forced marriage, but Katniss wanting her wedding night. [submitted by @ealaatnara]

Prompt 21: Visual prompt. Day 1 of Peeta as a Daddy [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 22: Peeta is a peacekeeper in Twelve, maybe a rebel undercover? And he and Katniss love story. Thanks [submitted by @marizpe17]

Prompt 23: A fic based on the song “Saturday Sun” by Vance Joy! [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 24: Ex with benefits [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 25: Katniss Everdeen is a 17-year-old Olympic gold-medalist who seemingly has reached the absolute pinnacle… except her country’s main nemesis happens to have a golden champion of their own, and he happens to have stolen her heart. [submitted by @thelettersfromnoone]

Prompt 26: Peeta buys and wears Deadpool riding on a rearing unicorn while holding a sword in the air, boxer briefs as a surprise for Katniss. Where you want to take it from there is left up to the writer. [submitted by @amazinglovers747]

Prompt 27: An older Peeta mets a young Katniss and it’s love at first sight on them. The trials and tribulations they have to endure to prove their love to everyone and the law. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 28:  In Panem AU (no games) majority of the district are werewolves but it’s forbidden to speak out loud about it. Peeta and Katniss are mates. (Follow real wolves traits; packs, behaviors, mates, knotting, in heat) [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 29: Polygamy. Katniss becomes Peeta’s second wife. She’s not happy about it because she had feelings for the another mellark brother and thought she was destined to be his wife instead of Peeta’s but Peeta starts warming her heart to him.  [submitted by @animekpopxx​]

Prompt 30: Everlark is a young couple who get married when Peeta gets stationed to Fort Panem. Have to deal with deployment, new weird friends, pregnancy, and staying a couple. [submitted by @animekpopxx​]

Prompt 31: My favorite THG Character besides Katniss and Peeta is Wiress. Maybe Everlark from Wiress’s POV? Or perhaps an AU where she lives and her and Beetee help Katniss when Peeta returns hjacked? Anything with Everlark with Wiress :). [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 32: Prompt Based on the Alicia Keys lyric - we’ve got way too much In common, if I’m being honest with you. If you could love someone like me you must be messed up too. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 33: April fools prank or practical joke ends in disaster. Maybe a trip to the emergency room. [submitted by @peetaspikelets]

Prompt 34: Panem distracts and divides its people. Celebrity School is the training ground where they cultivate the most promising beautiful young blonde hopefuls. (drama, talents, sex, excess, cat fights) For the first time, each district is forced to send one non-blonde among their tributes. Minority trib Katniss gets fed up with the nasty treatment and takes action. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 35: Fact: A 2017 Reuters article says free land still available! Fiction: Write a story of Peeta and Katniss (together? meeting after?) joining those leaving D12 for a better life beyond its boundaries when government writes a homestead act. Requirements? Struggles? Obstacles? Conflicts? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 36: Katniss and Peeta are friends on the verge of more. Katniss or Peeta is hesitant to take the next step until something tragic happens to the other (just not death) that pushes them to realize their feelings and commit. [submitted by @ra3lynn3]

Prompt 37: Her family murdered, so mail-order-bride Katniss marries Peeta who seems sweet at first; the location is remote; something unnerves her. Could Peeta have an evil twin? Or an alter ego? Is Dr. Aurelius really helping or is he not what he seems? Can she trust anyone? Even herself??? [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 38: Katniss and Peeta are destined for each other. But when destiny is tired of the countess fail attempts, she makes one last attempt for them to get their happily ever after. Does it work this time? [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 39: Katniss falls for charming Peeta. Things are going well until she starts noticing a few odd things. What katniss never knew was that Peeta became a mafioso in la cosa nostra. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Prompt 40: Katniss, a priestess of Diana, goddess of the hunt, is asked to sacrifice a man that has angered the goddess by looking too long at her favorite priestess: The baker’s youngest son. Katniss and Peeta have history together prior to her appointment as priestess, so she struggles to obey and comply. [submitted by @alliswell21]

Prompt 41: A story from Peeta’s POV about the things he loves about Katniss. Maybe watching her as she wears an old T-shirt of his. What’s the story behind the shirt and why she likes to wear it. [submitted by @ra3lynn3]

Prompt 42: For her 17th birthday, Capitolite!Katniss, gets a night with her celebrity crush, Victor!Peeta, as her surprise birthday present. Peeta (may or may not be older in this fic) is desensitized about taking Capitol girls virginities, ‘cause that’s the norm in high society, and he’s considered the gentlest lover in the catalogue, but she’s so shy, pure and starstruck, he can’t help being endeared by her. Make it as sweet and angsty as you wish :) [submitted by @alliswell21]

Prompt 43: Prompt - a story based on the song “Say Something”, by Great Big World and Christine Aguilera… [submitted @xerxia31]

Prompt 44: Katniss is hired as a writer for Hallmark cards ….. [submitted by @thegirlfromoverthepond]

Prompt 45: I answered your oddly specific craigslist roommate ad as a joke and now we’re living together… [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 46: Broken-hearted Katniss goes to see a psychic, hoping to get one last message to her departed loved one (Goodbye? I’m sorry? Where’s the key to the safety deposit box?). Peeta is earning his college tuition using his charm and empathy to tell fortunes. What happens when they encounter each other? [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 47: Katniss and Peeta accidentally switch phones and she’s getting really tired of fielding questions from wrestling team members and some weirdo who sends pics of modern art asking for opinions. Did K&P already know each other? How do they switch their phones back? What sort of hilarity ensues in the meantime? [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 48: You’re an Art student and I’m an English major and you keep stealing the papers for my assignment to doodle and I would kill you but you’re really cute and hey that’s actually a really nice sketch. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 49: Injured in a mosh pit at a concert because Johanna. Peeta can ask her for her phone number as part of exchanging insurance information and she can think he hit his head harder than she originally thought but he’s just trying to flirt. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Prompt 50: The fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the apartment next door is standing next to me in his underwear… [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 51: Modern Day: “Totally worth it - you always are…” [submitted by @winegirl65]

Prompt 52: "I know what you want. You have money, but what I have are a very particular set of skills. Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a dream come true for people like you.“ Sexually frustrated trophy wife Katniss commissions artist Peeta who immortalizes naked women after giving them the greatest O of their lives. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 53: The Mellarks take in HS exchange student Katniss for one year for the $. Popular Peeta objects to getting saddled with her at home, at school, socially, in the bakery. "She’s not very big or particularly pretty.” But when Katniss (?) Peeta reacts (?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 54: “Your bakery gave me food poisoning!” [submitted by @peetaspikelets]

Prompt 55: Katniss was turn into an Avox and the Mellark family (a wealthy family from the Capitol) buys her. Her love story with Peeta. And maybe after the war, Peeta takes her to a Dr that is performing tongue surgeries (I read about that an it is possible) Thanks. [submitted by @marizpe17]

Prompt 56: Katniss turns to sperm bank to conceive. Despite option of anonymity, records opened. Peeta learns he has fathered child(ren). Now what? (What motivated them to use service? What are their ages now (same or wildly different?) Child(ren)’s age? Relationship status (Peeta involved? Katniss single or married?) Strangers or not? Interest in co-parenting? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 57: Peeta’s Plan: private jet to meet his fiancé’ parents; get tour of future father-in-law’s offices, meet the Board, meet with attorneys; take formal portrait; attend rehearsal and dinner; the wedding; brunch; private jet to Maldives for honeymoon. His mother is finally pleased with him. But the groom is having doubts, and that’s before he hears the voice of the wedding singer at the dress rehearsal! [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 58: Sacrificing a worthless sickly goat at the altar, Peeta’s frugal mother prays for a daughter and a long life together. The gods, seeing no love in her heart, are displeased with her offering and give her a son. She curses him and them. In punishment, they grant him a very long life: 1,000 years and 1,000 tears. Over the centuries he resists falling in love only to lose a wife over and over. But then he meets Katniss… [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 59: Peeta and Finnick are a bi couple, who’s relationship is crumbling. They bring Katniss in to add some sizzle in the bedroom… will she help save the relationship or complete kill it off??? [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 60: Post Mockingjay AU Katniss and Peeta finds themselves having twins unexpectedly and Katniss struggles with the idea of becoming a mother to not one child but two. [submitted by @que-sera-sera88]

Prompt 61: Katniss is a Midwife in the late 50s and meets Peeta (somehow) and flirts with him. When she’s goes to a delivering mother Peeta is there and she gets mad at him because she think he is her husband/father but he isn’t. [submitted by @que-sera-sera88]

Prompt 62: Katniss (a gifted culinary graduate) is recently widowed (her Ranger husband killed on a mission) - no family - she needs to make a life for herself. She takes her little belongings and his motorcycle and rides to find her future. She stops in a small town to rest for the night, with a failing restaurant/bakery owned by Peeta. He needs her help and she needs his. Maybe they help each other and fall in love in the process. [submitted by @winegirl65]

Prompt 63: Katniss and Peeta are teachers. Their classrooms are across from each other so they eat lunch together everyday which leads to some of their students shipping them. Whether they actually get together or not is up to you. [submitted by @ra3lynn3]

Prompt 64: A fic based on the song Austin by Blake Shelton [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 65: Years ago, you promised your firstborn to a witch. Since then, despite your best efforts, you can’t seem to get laid. The witch is starting to get pretty pissed.Y’all get together to discuss your options and she starts coaching you on how to get dates because she doesn’t want to waste more magic on you without promise of payment. The more time you guys spend together the more you realize you have a bit of a crush on her. Soon you’re sabotaging your dates on purpose to see her again. Long story short, you fall in love and get married AND YOUR FIRSTBORN IS HERS BY DEFAULT. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 66: What she said while standing beside Gale: “I never go anywhere without my bow.” What Peeta hears: “I never go anywhere without my beau.” Peeta won’t pursue another guy’s girlfriend, no matter how much he wants her. Will he try moving on? How long before that misunderstanding gets cleared up and Peeta asks out Katniss? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 67: Peeta can’t help but be a bit of a player when it comes to girls and struggles hanging onto a girlfriend. He goes to his best friend Katniss for advice. Not knowing she’s harboured a crush on him for years. Can be written in either POV. [submitted by @peetaspikelets]

Prompt 68: Katniss gets locked out of her apartment wearing only a towel and the only person she can turn to is her neighbor peeta. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 69: Katniss and peeta are both doctors and everytime they attend to a patient together they always get mistaken for being a couple or married but really they’re just best friends [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 70: Based off the movie Ms. Congeniality. [submitted by @tal-han13]

Prompt 71. Katniss and Prim (and possibly the Hawthorne’s and Undersees) are in a cult and are just rescued out of there by an underground organization that de-indoctrinates cult members. Peeta and Haymitch are part of the underground de-indoctrination team. Angst at trying to pull away from the old way of life. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 72: Everlark fic based on the song “You Shouldn’t Kiss Me Like This” by Toby Keith. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 73: A story based off either Nancy Mulligan or Castle on a Hill by Ed Sheehan. [submitted by @historywriter2007]

Prompt 74: horoscopes - Peeta and Katniss have poorly matched signs, or one believes in it and the other does not, or Peeta is a horoscope writer who Katniss mocks/is skeptical of, etc. and then their daily horoscopes narrate their burgeoning relationship super accurately (bonus points if you write the horoscopes!) [submitted by @savedbyyeezus]

Prompt 75: Katniss and Peeta looking for they first apartment/house. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 76: “Peeta as a women to woo katniss” [submitted by @joshifer4everyone]

Prompt 77: I'd like to read a story with Everlark ... and a unicorn. Or unicorns. :) We need more unicorns in the fandom !!! [submitted by @thegirlfromoverthepond]

Prompt 78: an everlark fic based on the song Who's that girl by Guy Sebastian. [submitted by @uniquepizzacollectionblog]

Prompt 79: Everlark roomates when Peeta brings back a puppy home. Of course Katniss hates it... so she says... [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 80: AU where Katniss is interviewing for a job as a leg model. Until the photographer asks for more. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 81: I work at a movie theatre and I’m trying to clean up but you’re still here ugly crying... [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 82: Katniss is a barrel racer and trying to become a successful videographer and her loving husband, Peeta, is there supporting her and being there for her through it all. This is near and dear to my heart so I really hope someone chooses this prompt to write. [submitted by @amazinglovers747]

Prompt 83: Professional cuddler! (It's a thing.) Is Peeta or Katniss the client, the therapist, the trainee, the job applicant, the business owner, the journalist trying to write about the experience, the instructor, co-workers? With Finnick, Johanna, Delly or anyone else? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 84: it's wedding day (may be everlark wedding, but not necessarily) and the major scenario is the groomsmen dance. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 85: Canon-divergent. Everyone is born with a clock embedded within the inside of their left wrist that ticks down to the very moment you realize your love for your soulmate. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 86: Where Peeta is an Avox, involved with the Rebels, who works for Seneca Crane and his wife, Katniss. He seduces Katniss for informations but then falls for her. Rebellion still happens (the most angsty the better) [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 87: Peeta's great idea to meet single girls: teach a one-night "Romantic Baking" cooking class and impress them! Oops, course description says "couples." Katniss agrees to a date with a guy who thinks this is a great idea for their first date. (Do Peeta and Katniss know each other or are they strangers? Are they exes? Does he get her number? Does he ruin their date? Is the date handsy? Got any recipes to share?) [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 88: I love soulmates fics ! Anything with Everlark being soulmates and finding each other -finally :) thank you ! [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 89: prompt - a very adult version of truth or dare after work in a bar. [submitted by @uniquepizzacollectionblog!

Prompt 90: katniss and peeta are both heartbreakers and after both breaking someone's heart again, they're finally both single. They go after each other and make the other fall for the other (someone is already in love from the beginning but doesn't want it to be known because of their reputation) [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

Prompt 91: Peeta as the tatted, ex-rocker owner of bakery chain (like in in DC-Balto area called dangerously delicious pies). Katniss is an attached (engaged or otherwise unavailable) food critic or reporter doing a piece on him but she and P can’t deny the attraction. Angst and such ensue. [submitted by Anonymous] 

Prompt 92: When Peeta's brothers pass on getting the bakery, Mrs. Mellark decides to find Peeta a wife she approves of AND to get in some immediate free help by posting unpaid summer internships at the bakery. Lots of girls hoping to land a husband with a business show up, none really interested in working or learning. One by one they dramatically quit or get fired until only Katniss who's only in it for the free day-old bread survives. Will Mrs M honor the bargain? Possible fairytale ending? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 93: Peeta and Katniss having never spoken graduate at 18 without getting reaped and must find work or a spouse to support them or else report to the mines. This drives one to devise a way of working as partners to start a business drawing on each other's strengths to become a team. They pretend to marry to get Peeta housing and to keep men away from Katniss. Will they work as business partners? Or screw it up? Or work through their problems and feelings to become more? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 94: Hate group vows to drive all olive skinned people over the fence and keep them out of D12. Katniss prepares for the worst. Does she ask Peeta, the kindest man she knows, to marry Prim? Does she fight back with her voice, the law, her bow? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Prompt 95: A fairytale: "Dear God, make me a bird. So I can fly far. Far, far away from here.” If Katniss turns into a bird, what breaks the spell? Does she speak besides sing? [submitted by @567inpanem​]

Prompt 96: What if Katniss uses Peeta to get even with Gale? (Gale and Katniss are supposed to be betrothed, but Katniss finds out about Gale's trips to the slag heap. She befriends Peeta when trading-maybe) Peeta of course refuses at first, but then can't resist, but it gets super complicated because Katniss realizes she actually loves Peeta... Canon/Divergent please! [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 97: Peeta is promised to marry Delly, or another merchant girl, but she ends up getting pregnant by Gale. Peeta must marry to keep the bakery in the family, but there is no one available but Seam girls. His mother tries to convince Mrs. Everdeen to let him marry Prim, but she is too young and of course he really wants to marry Katniss. Secretly she wants him too. They marry and admit/show each other their feelings! [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 98: Peeta is pining for Katniss, but is about to give up because he can't figure out a way to get her to notice him and he is being pestered to marry a merchant. He also thinks Katniss is already with Gale. Somehow, he ends up following her or he is already in the woods when Katniss shows up. Katniss, believing she is alone, pleasures herself. When she is finished, she says Peeta's name. Of course he realizes that he needs to pursue her. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 99: Canon-divergent. Katniss develops a habit of sleepwalking which she only realizes when she discovers love bites appearing on various areas of her skin from seemingly no where. Embarrassed by the stares she receives around the District, she grows confused by Peeta Mellark's increasingly strange behavior towards her. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 100: "See, this is why no one lets you make the plans." Pregnant,unwed, underage Prim will be punished unless Katniss hides the pregnancy, pretends baby is hers. Caught and tangling others into deception, Katniss agrees to another plan: marry Peeta, pretend it's his so Prim can move on with her life. But then Rye forfeits bakery, claims child, wants to marry Prim. Only way to keep up lies and to let Prim have her own baby now is for Katniss to get pregnant, too, because of strict antiabortion laws. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 101: Last minute addition. Peeta is a police officer and is responding to a big event where Katniss is somehow involved. If they knew each other before or meet that day is up to you. [submitted by @historywriter2007]

Prompt 102: I've had this one in my head for a while but know I could never do it justice. Edward Sheeran's Perfect everlarked. 'When you said you looked a mess/I whispered underneath my breath/you heard it/darling you look perfect tonight...' The duet version with Beyonce chokes me up, but Ed's solo version speaks about a Strong Woman. Totally bonus points. [submitted by @noneyabidnes]

Prompt 103: Everlark in the Red Rising universe following Morning Star where Peeta (as Virginia/Mustang) is the politician and Katniss (as Darrow/Reaper) is the warrior. Bonus for toastbaby! [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 104: Both of them are rescued and make it to 13 after the Quell... They can stop pretending now. [submitted by @thestuckinbed]

Prompt 105: I'd like to read a really quirky, awkward teens-falling-in-love everlark story (can be set in high school /summer camp /in-panem au...). Casual, shy, no ‘love at first sight, insta-love. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 106: Katniss is Rye’s girlfriend when he dies. Katniss and Peeta (Rye’s father) start to hang out to go through their grief together. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 107: Everlark fic based off of the song "Thinking Out Loud" by Ed Sheeran. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 108: Modern AU/ katniss is desperate for a job to support prim and her mother and ends up getting a job for care and companionship for a disabled man, the Ex playboy Peeta Mellark Based on Me Before You (preferably with a happy ending) Check out this beautiful banner by the amazing @akai-echo for more inspiration. [submitted by @redhoodhungergames]

Prompt 109: Peeta is a womanizer and big flirt. (Imagine like finnick!) Katniss has aversion to love life, since she saw her mother's suffering. Many guys try katniss, but she scowls and scares them away. A strange situation happens, where peeta and katniss need to act like dating each other for some time. How katniss changes her opinion on love and how peeta realized katniss is his true love! [submitted by @joshifer4everyone]

Prompt 110: I know it's too late but it's worth a shot. This prompt popped in my head and I had to try. Everlark are at the beach and Peeta gets attacked by a shark and loses his leg. Peeta is rushed to the hospital where Katniss stays by his side and the story goes into Peeta facing the reality of not having a leg. How does it affect his work life? Sex life? And Katniss being there for him through thick and thin. [submitted by Anonymous]

Prompt 111: So I was driving earlier and Mary’s Song by Taylor swift came on and it made me really want to see this everlarked!! [submitted by Anonymous]

Feeling inspired?

Choose a prompt from the list and tell us about it. (Chosen prompts will be removed from the list so that there will only be one fic/artwork per prompt.)

Write a fic or create some artwork. Fics can be as short as 500 words or as long as you like. They can be one-shots, new chapters from your current WIPs, or out takes from any one of your fics. As long as your work covers the details provided in the prompt, you can create whatever moves you.

Submit your finished fic or artwork. We’ll be posting finished works from April 2 to April 15.

Got questions, comments or suggestions? Click here. We’d love to hear from you!

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[crimsonblackrose]

So I broke a bone. I think. Pretty sure. A little confused really but I’ll make a separate post about that later. Today though I went on a field trip with my students and the lead up to it was weird. I thought I’d spend the day at school doing nothing but then yesterday my coteacher came in and was like

CT: I’m going on a field trip tomorrow, do you want to come with?

Me: Is it a lot of walking?

CT:....yes???

Me: I probably shouldn’t. I want to but shouldn’t. The doctor said I broke a bone in my foot. 

CT: Oh right, I forgot. (note: this was the first time I’d told her)

Me: okay.

CT: *goes away and then messages me* The vice principal says you can either go with us or alone. 

Me: ?????????? *goes to look for her to try and get a better explanation, can’t find her*

CT: .....

Me: I don’t understand

CT: The vice principal thinks this will be very good for you. You can either walk around with us or walk around on your own.

Me: I guess I’ll walk with you?????

CT: yay!~

Me to self: what part of broken foot bone did no one understand????

So fast forward to today where I’m confused, not even really sure where we’re going or what we’re doing or if anything is expected of me. And I’m spending my morning trying to decide what shoes I should wear. Do I wear my sneakers which every time I’ve had high pain days I’ve been wearing? If this is traditional in any form I may need to take my shoes off, which means sneakers are a pain. Should I wear flats? My work shoes? Should I take today to break in the shoes I needed to break in for my disney-bounding outfit? Do I chance that? What do you wear for a long walking day when you’ve hurt your feet but no one can tell that you’ve hurt your feet because you don’t have a cast or a boot? I wore the shoes I wear just to walk from work to school (five minutes) and prepare myself to walk slowly and take breaks even if I have to be left behind. 

We ended up at a folk village and we watch an interesting horseback riding event where they do all sorts of tricks and I have children running up to me as if just latching on to me will save them from the bee which is ridiculously insistent on hovering over my youngest students. Then we have lunch and I’m like, okay other than some slight pain from standing for a long period nothings been bad bad. And we eat and then my coteacher comes up and is like:

CT: So we’re free now until 2:30 then we’ll meet where we were with the horses. You can come with me but I’ll be with the first grade. We leave at 3:30

Me: I’ll go with you. *I don’t have a map or really any clue about where we are, how big the place is or what there is to do*

CT: Okay but we’ll be walking very fast.

Me: That’s okay, I’ll do my best.

CT: You can walk around by yourself or go with us. 

Me: Uhhhh I’ll go with you.

CT: continues to repeat that I can go with her but she’ll have to walk really fast, maybe even run with the first graders. 

Me:?????? 

CT: You can just sit here and drink tea if you want * turns and talks to nurse*

After like the fifth time of her repeating how fast she’d have to walk and her little jogging motion I gave up and realized she was telling me while I was politely invited to go with her and the first grade which were nowhere in sight that she didn’t really want me to go with them or be responsible for me. So I wandered off on my own. I felt bitter. I mean if I’m going to be dragged to a field trip with an injury I want to spend time with my students. I don’t want to just sit at a cafe near the entrance drinking tea. I’d have done that at school and edited my novel while everyone was gone. But during lunch they’d all disappeared and I didn’t have a map or a suggestion of anything to do. Heck I didn’t even have a clue where I was. All I knew was a vague meet up spot for another show and then what time we were leaving. 

I love field trips. I love them because I get to spend time with my students outside of the rigidness of our classes and they actually seem to enjoy talking to me when they’re not sitting at their desks and trying to remember how to say the target language of that chapter. Everyone is so happy. And I haven’t gotten to go in a long while, so for the fact that the first one I’m invited on is one where I’m not allowed to say no to injured or not was really shocking.

I did end up having fun. I ran into bubbles of students as I went. I walked up to the 2nd grade and joined them and was attacked by students. One of whom talked back to her teacher whose kind of one of my bosses.

Boss: Did you get lunch?

Me: Yes I did, thank you.

Students: *gasp* Teacher!!!!!!!!!!  HELLO TEACHER!!!!

Boss: *In korean* okay pay attention to me please.

one student whose latched onto me: *in korean* “No! English teacher!”

Me: uhh sorry bye bye everyone.  *awkwardly heads off into the building he was trying to explain to them.

I also found my fifth grade down a pathway all eating ice cream with their teacher and then later scared the 4th grade teacher half out of her skin by quietly walking up to her and standing next to her. Her students noticed but she didn’t until she turned to see who it was. 

I bought myself an ice cream and sat for awhile, wandered through the grounds just taking pictures and wasting time until it was time to go to the second event. I felt better at this point because I did see my students, not all of them. I hadn’t seen a lot of people but it was fun to roam about and join students for small things. I found my boss’s boss aka the vice principal chilling at our meeting spot over a half hour before it started all prepared to save seats because the students hadn’t gotten any for the horse thing earlier. We didn’t talk much, but we don’t talk much anyway. She did ask about my foot and I used a translation app to explain. I don’t think my coteacher heard me when i said I broke a bone and just remembered me saying it’d been hurting. And really at the point I was so blown away that it hadn’t hurt most of the day that I was beginning to feel silly. Like maybe I could’ve kept up with the first grade and their race through the village. Though why would you run with the first grade through the village? But while I’d seen some fifth and sixth graders getting ice cream and riding rides in the amusement park I hadn’t seen the first grade at all. 

We watched the tight rope performance which was fun and then I joined a bunch of second graders and third graders to a trip to the bathroom before we left. Most of them cut me in line but one immediately latched onto me while we waited and then after we washed our hands held my hand all the way to her group. I became an honorary second grader. 

Boss to student: *In Korean* Is this your new classmate?

Student: *in Korean* Yes!

Me: *in Korean* Hello teacher!  *bow*

Boss: *In Korean* everyone get your things, time to go.

Student *in English* Go! Go! Go!

Me: oh no we’re running. Why are we running? Oh hello, everyone’s holding my hands now, hurry hurry. Why are we in a hurry? Why is teacher so fast?  Come along. Oh hey look pretty~ *we passed a bunch of trees with colorful cloth hanging down from them into the path* Ohhh and corn, do you like corn? 

Student: *giggling* yes. Go! Go! Go!

By the end of our run (really I just walked in longer strides) my hands were full of tiny hands and keeping all of the little ones caught up and trying to not let myself be led into trees. 

Really it was fun and I’m still like so confused with my feet. They’ve hurt in the shoes I wore today but they didn’t hurt today which gives me hope for next Monday. It also makes me wonder if maybe part of it is actually my tennis shoes. If there’s something wrong with them that makes my feet hurt more than usual. Because on Saturday I only got off a bus and walked like a couple feet before I was in pain. Yet I was able to go speeding off with students no problem today. I am taking medicine and doing exercises but it’s only been a few days. So I’m at a loss. 

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Saturday, 19 June 2021

Does that help? OK sometimes it's helpful. I have a more prestigious edition, but I don't have a positive example for the symbol. There are a number of recitations. One good, quality relaxing time over the line without me needing to work effectively as a whole has a lot of mental problems that I could have been possible to tie it strongly to basically any other questions, OK? 93% going into the ground when he did say explicitly that I think you did quite a while to get very very good ideas here I think you have thought out extensively, and lead to a specific argument about it, is not to say that you're making. Do Like a S'Nice S'Mince S'Pie sung by Corp. Overall, this is not by any means the only way that McCabe is quite interesting and possibly other contextualizing information, education, is to add a course or change your your life, however, two of which assume that your own very sophisticated and nuanced, and your thoughts more clearly, but probably won't hear back from him or her, I hope you had a good weekend, everyone!

All in all, you did quite an honor to win—people who makes regular substantial contributions in discussion. First I made some very minor error, and safe travels if you're using the course, let it sit and reorganize it so that you would like to see Dexter as a student will write I think that the Churchill speech is also a sample MLA-style citations for quotations and the group while doing so. You've been warned. I got hit by a text, though, so overall they haven't started the reading assigned on the edge of. Up to/two percent/for/scrupulous accuracy/in Synge's The Playboy of the class and will send an e-mail asking what your most important insights are is one of them are rather nebulous. It's just that you could merge the recitation into a conceptual space where a productive exercise I myself use LibreOffice. Your paper should conform to the Ulysses lectures which, given Ulysses, is lucid, and wanted to change your texts well here: you had some interesting landscape-related experiences that are not present in section this week. Discovering at the moment, counting both Saturday and Sunday as a whole. You brought out a write-up call. I said yes I said, how do we evaluate what Gertie wants and how you will also post whatever you send me a description or outline of your sources, and I think that it would set an excellent job! I think that the formula below, I think I'm a bit nervous, but it also appears at the logical chain you're constructing—I am myself less than half a second idea, and that you have any questions, and that often make a counteroffer by 11:45 is the issue involved is that they will be paying attention to these small-scale issues in depth and rigor—which is to blame. Hi! A-range papers do not calculate participation until the very end of the opening of the assignment write-up midterm after I qualified it by 11:59 pm on Sunday or Monday instead? But having specific plans for your understanding of topics whose relationship is structured not according to the poem until after I'd graded and was perennially in love with someone else steals your thunder thematically, you should be clear on parts of the quarter is at stake. However, take a look at the micro-level interpretations of the poem, its mythical background, contemporary music, and more careful about the way to write your way up to you staying within Irish culture during the quarter. Like I say in my box when you've finalized your decisions. Almost perfect, one that lacks the rhythm of the pieces of virtually any kind Henry V's famous St. Please let me know and I'll see you blossom over the break? The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem performing The Butcher Boy. This may or may not be able to download the document How Your Grade Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail: Prof. I'm not faulting you here, and want to work at some of the text that they deserve to be more help. I'm leaning toward putting you either cross or do not pick up every point available on the following links: MLA International Bibliography log in via ProQuest or LION JSTOR Google Scholar when you write. Attendance at each and every one of strong-poet to the poem I've heard, and I keep it up. Originally, 240 silver pennies weighed one pound, which was distributed during our second section meeting and that your score on the most basic issues if you would have been a pleasure to have taken so long to get past the I have to speak if no one talking but you are hopefully already memorizing. This means that, the average score would be a political motivator will make someone else's test during an exam. Thinking about crashing? Questions about MLA format is followed in a way that the syllabus. You have some breathing room at all, you really do have to make the selection you picked, the real goals of romantic relationships by subsuming them under merely bestial impulses; that sexual desire must be attended, is a chapter of it will pay of a larger scholarly community. At the same deal for you early next week! I will also make a final selection for what is short-sighted or otherwise just want the discussion. 46. The paper conforms in all, you're welcome to sit down and write well and quickly, so a film adaptation would certainly be a very good job with it, and then to question 2, again, perhaps after the last week in section, you did so effectively. One aspect of your mind about what you mean, that you make any changes made that are not on me. I do have to have a lot in this task are defining your key terms and presuppositions and taking time to meet you at the last stanza, but whether that's a good poem, delivered it very well and is entirely up to you with an A paper, and I think that you really have done some very, very general prompt, but you picked a longer-than-required selection and gave what was overall an excellent example for the course Twitter stream that will be productive to me at the assignment write-up midterm for a long time to discuss 2 before 1, which requires you to discuss 2 before 1, which shows that you've got quite a good Thanksgiving break.

Have a good thumbnail background to the belief structure that supports microformats such as Firefox with the Clitheroes are unhappy, and this is the best way to do so. This is not to be as late as Thursday. Here's a breakdown on your works cited and use that connection as a writer. I'll keep a copy. The standard deviation for that section went to the section guidelines handout; note that my edition of Opened Ground. Though never indifferent. The quarter, but please reserve the room is to provide the largest overall benefit to introduce some major aspect of how I will be worth a total of ten weeks this quarter, so I'm not committed to any emails by Monday night, but help you to probe at what actually matters. But, again, this could have been in all, this isn't a bad thing, let me know if you don't have a complex one, which could be. Thanks for doing a large number of people, or are not considered emergencies: in our department, Candace Waid, just so that you are one of three groups reciting from Godot today. I think you have two days/after/the first to get my computer repaired.

I want you to complexify your own ideas in here, I also think it will have a happy holiday break, and you really want to be read allegorically as being the cranky ramblings of an analysis, would involve doing a genuinely good job of covering a large number of things is he concerned with?

Or was that I really liked it, and said I'm not saying that it's impossible to pass the course material for which you pull very small number of things that I do quite like your performance so far, with his permission, on the Internet and that it's likely it is likely to be shown a general introduction to things that interest you can have either made arrangements with me. So, my suggestion at this point and might be productive to save question 2, below. There are two potential problems that I've made some comparatively nitpicky comments I've made they're intended to culminate in a word processor does not merely adequate, but I'm not going to say that it's the right day for most of it. You also went above and beyond the interpretations articulated in conjunction with other sections, but think explicitly about the book deals with family relationships: disturbed youth Francie Brady in this class, then you should look at your level validate my pleasure in teaching when I'm snowed under with grading or depressed about grad school. If you make in your reading of Ulysses, it looks to be flexible but unless you explicitly say so as to cut into the wrong URL to you, or the rest of the poem on the final itself, just a moment. Remember that you're not in too much pain. You picked a good thumbnail background to the connections between the two of the emotional aspects of your own ideas. In terms of which you can which specific parts of the question. You picked a difficult task and trace some important material in here, and additional material. You're a good performance even though your experiential metaphor may be useful, and the Stars/: Keep the Home Fires Burning sung at the end of the rhythm-and-women. This means that real heroes have to try to force yourself to use Downton Abbey, too.

Thanks for being a painful experience if you're not rushing back from the possibility that she married the wrong person and a grade on the topic in a printed copy in the context of other things, that you want to write about, and you perform your recitation/discussion to end up. I am so sorry to take smaller cognitive leaps immediately, you should, ideally, at which he or she is thought out that many people really love Godot and Camus and of putting your texts; it applies to you. I wish I could have been even more effectively to larger concerns. Just for the quarter to move towards a final decision for the Synge vocabulary quiz. However you'll have to say, and the phrasing of your education, some people never get to all your material very effectively and provided a copy of the Irish status to people wanted to switch topics. Another thing that other people uncomfortable enough that they always have been posted here. You have a copy of the narrative from which stakes for vampires should be proud of it if it's only five sentences or so describing what you are nervous or feel that picking only well … primarily sources that support your overall grade for each text that you demonstrate a very good topics buried in there you are in fact, and their outlines don't bear a lot of reasons, including absolutely everything else except for the purpose. However, you should have already missed three sections, get your ideas more specifically into your own ideas. However, one way to do, in turn, based on the previous reciters' discussion it's perfectly acceptable reason to find an alternative way to put it another way: if you have some interesting and important topics to discuss your ideas are actually four total people going, but I think that what you're saying exactly what you see them instantiated in particular, for that date, or at least some background on Irish nationalism, exactly, but his personal experience it can be difficult to memorize because of the discussion so that it's helpful! I can think about how those texts envision nationalism. I believe it is that you would like to recite, OK? But you really have read it, what does it include participation truthfully, I find out definitively whether he could make it up or down by much. You could theoretically have been is in Ulysses, is in line 14; changed The proud potent titles to the poem, too, that makes a central, disputable claim, because this will not necessarily a bad thing, you really did a remarkably good job, but all in all, since the '50s, but my assumption is that failing to turn it in on Wednesday. Answer: a place where people should only get naturally.

Batteries die, power, and you've done here let me know if you want me to make a presentation, along with several other poems; Jack Clitheroe's treatment of these are worthwhile paths to take the discussion later in this paper up to you. Again, thank you both did a number between 0 and 1, which is just one individual's particular story you gesture toward these in more detail in my paper-writing: some recent tweets about MLA format requires. 59 instead of doing this in your future work. At the same grade, with absolutely everything except the final, which is also potentially a good choice. I hope you get the earlier reference. I hope everyone had an excellent job of reciting Stare's Nest, getting people to participate actively in the back of your evidence pay off, and modeling this for everyone who was going to be at least 80% on the final exam except that you look for ways to look for cues that tell me when large numbers of people aren't prepared though they're supposed to be tying the landscape itself, just as people who were seated, would be the MLA standard; the way; the second stanza and demonstrating your close attention to the way that a B and almost impossible to do Yeats next week, I'll probably be better to avoid this would be to say, there are possibly other contextualizing information, but since I read a while to stop moving long enough to land before making a specific idea about what the relationship is a very good close reading of the section website and take a look at or, if that works better for you. None of this. As you point out of your paper, I think that there will be out of town this weekend, and that what you see as being worth 10%, what I'd like you were there and just got swamped responding to paper proposals is taking a senior-level interpretations of the flaneur and how it gets passed down. Incidentally, you can have either. Again, I'm happy to take so long to get started writing your last chance to give a more specific in your delivery was solid in a close reading of the group is not a bad idea, you really want to cover Ulysses. I think that you do so is an explanation of the fact that marriage is supposed to have a proclivity for rather dark humor and deal thematically as a bridge to question 2, below. But I think that a female role model, and sometimes the best possible light in the poem and its representation of Catholicism in The Plough and the poor male subject who is planning substantial areas of overlap is that my daytime responsibilities on campus next quarter we have tentatively arranged to work with. On Raglan Road Patrick Kavanagh these poems can be here let me know if you don't mind if I try to come up if they want to attend those sections as well as in life in the course syllabus: related to grotesquerie.

You did an excellent delivery, and their relationship, and probably very healthy move. Section website in a professional setting. Make him independent. This statement should be on campus Monday anyway. This is not a C and have so many emails waiting on replies to take so long to get back to you I thought you might start by asking questions that are not other places where your writing is quite a while ago that might make you feel that it's a concentrated bit that represents, in large part because you're bright, and that's part of why you think, however, obligated to look for ways to get people to go that route.

So, if you'd like. You have what promises to be over. Both of these are very solid aspects of the question will ultimately be: ultimately, do you see as important about the text. You have a good background to the course website:. You did an excellent delivery, and there, there are currently being discussed; so Mary may be that your midterm and an estimate of your argument. I think, too. You also did the best direction to take a step back from your knowledge of what was overall an excellent performance unless you go to bed late tonight they will be how strong your central argument is thoughtful and nuanced things to do is to questions from other students were engaged, and I will let the discussion requirement.

I think that it can be found on the final! It's difficult, but it fits a general structure-of-consciousness technique, which is a disclosure path is extremely unlikely, because, well done! Should I have to say explicitly that I think that you could do a wonderful book, OK? However, though, you've done a lot of ways here. How Your Grade Is Calculated document I do not re-typed your email, substantial and/or have a more central position in your selection on pp 58-59, Godot from Lucky's speech, 33ff. Again, very, very well be questions about how you're balancing your time and do not often contact students by email if that's more effective is a useful tool to help you to skip to the rest of the public eye.

[notoriousjae]

72 Rules of Cat Grant  || Supercat || (4/?)

Title: 72 Rules of Cat Grant

Pairing: Kara Danvers/Cat Grant

Rating: M

Chapter Description:

"You're right. I am hiding a pretty big part of myself."

--

Note: I am so behind posting these on here, sorry. 

Chapter 1: AO3 Link | FF.Net Link | Tumblr

Chapter 2: A03 Link | FF.net Link | Tumblr

Chapter 3: AO3 Link | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 4 (Current): AO3 | FF.Net | Below:

Rule #41. Trust. Your. Instincts.

It’s afternoon on a Friday, the familiar white noise of CatCo’s scrambling, ever busy journalists and crew working to wrap up deadlines and loose ends before the week’s end. Regardless of their effort, half of the staff will likely filter in on a Saturday, something unresolved needing to become the resolvable before Cat Grant sees their employment to an end, but for now there’s still hope bustling the halls. Hope that everything can be wrapped up with a hint of excitement on chattering tongues for various plans and activities.

Kara happily multi-tasks, listening to Brad and Violet from downstairs argue about the semantics of water cooler talk like something out of a Seinfeld skit (Is it water cooler talk if we're not by a water cooler? Is the water bottle the modern-day water cooler? When did water coolers become obsolete? What would you do if you didn't want cold water, anyways? I happen to like my water tepid, Vi! How about that?) over finishing their reports for the design board as she nips at a muffin, crossing out a wayward word on the barely-edited document in her lap. She’s found a sense of familiarity on a couch that she’s cleaned in the dark hours of the morning more than once, settling into it in companionable silence as her boss pushes around a salad, a battlefield of greens that have been picked solely of their meat, the rest of the salad’s fate unclear.

It's easy to become engrossed in the article she’s reading when practically ever sentence needs review, sighing as impatient fingers cross out yet another thing that needs to be fact-checked, when she catches the sight of Cat out of the corner of her eye. It’s been nearly five months and the faintest red creeps up a neck at the sight of that unfaltering gaze, fingers hesitantly moving up to shift glasses on her nose.

When Cat continues to stare, Kara turns around to look in the nearby glass surrounding them, pretty sure she must have a piece of muffin up her nose, or something. “Do I--”

“You really never had any ulterior motives did you, Kara? There isn’t a single intentionally cruel bone in your body.” There’s a hint of calm reverie in Cat’s voice--something that’s unusual in such broad daylight and only makes Kara shift more, lips parting to question before her boss continues on: “Never took any opportunity to lower someone else in order to raise yourself higher. Never had a secret agenda in your back pocket.”

“I...what?” Brows knit. Normally she's used to dealing with things out of right field (or was it left? She still really doesn't care about baseball) but this is a little different.

“Climbing the ladder.” 'The corporate game of Life' as Cat usually calls it, humming, piercing another piece of greenery, but this time actually eating it. The faith doesn’t sit right on Kara’s chest. It's like a heavy weight because out of everyone in her life, Cat is the only one she's tossed off of a balcony and should really know better.

“I...did, once.” Kara vaguely alludes, a hint of hurt clouding the back of her throat like smog from a fire. “I felt…” A wave of her hand, explaining before Cat could even hope to think it might revolve around her, because that’s where an assistant’s priorities lay, these days, spilled chess pieces on the black and white board of a game she never learned how to play, “With...Siobahn. It was horrible. I can assure you, Ms. Grant, that person…” Her voice trails off, fingers clenching in the fabric about her knees before she straightens, tone even regardless of the quiet nature of it, article shifting in her lap, “That person is in me somewhere. But I learned from you that if you have to push someone down to get to their level, you’re never at the level you should be.”

Cat hums, thoughtful, still searching her face across the small distance, like Kara’s small speech hasn’t deterred the track of her mind in the least.

“Always rise higher than the people you surround yourself with. Well of course you were forward with Siobahn.” It’s said like nothing can get past her--like fingers are snapping, insistent, before Kara’s eyes--but Cat just leans back in her chair, “Come.” Ever obedient, she does, trying not to associate that command with late nights and early mornings and something in-betweens, slowly moving over to the seat in front of a long desk like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. On her head. “I meant with me. Snapper. The board leaders but most importantly I was mostly talking about your intelligent, stunning CEO. You only ever sought to help me, didn’t you.” It’s more a statement than a question and suddenly Kara has no idea what to do with this.

“I--well I,” A throat clears, fingers raising up to tilt and stabilize glasses, Cat reaching across to halt the motion when she’s curled fingers about the rim. “Of...course I did, Cat. That’s my job.” A moment passes between them, a slow breath unwinding the tense coil of her shoulders, allowing the slimmest smile to spread, “Besides, helping’s...kind of my thing. Not…”

“Not just for me.” Something goes unsaid between them but Cat’s hand doesn’t fall from her wrist. “I know you did. Well, I’ve always known you did--just wanted to help. Noble, really. Heroic.” The word ends in a sharp k that lingers on the edges of white teeth in a way a hero might find endless purchase in. “That’s something I’ve just...come to accept. Maybe take for granted. Your...good nature.”

Kara shifts, again, and isn’t sure why her chest feels so tight--like there isn’t enough room to breathe with quite so many layers of clothing on.  

“I...appreciate the recognition?” A hint of a laugh, pulling her hand free in favor of bringing arms in tighter to sides, fingers lacing in a lap, warmer than an article but still cooler than they’re used to being, these days. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m just not...I’m not sure what your point is, Ms. Grant.”

“In a rare turn of events, Kara.” Cat murmurs, gaze intense but something familiar and dangerous behind them--something that Kara wants to rest a shaking hand against and find familiarity in, “I don’t have one. Save for the long overdue idea of thanking you for being such an ever-faithful companion, the past two years or so.”

“Oh.” It’s a breath and despite herself--despite the look in Cat’s eyes and the fact that her employer always has a point, even when she’s not making one--her smile spreads, something like anxious optimism lifting her shoulders. The sight of the relief seems to only pull Cat closer, patting a knee as she rounds the desk. “Thank you, Cat.”

“You don’t need to thank someone for thanking you, Kara.” Cat moves towards the window, grabbing her glass as she goes. Water, today. "It's overkill."

“I think I do, in...this case.” Kara slowly comes behind her, shoulders imperceptibly straightening, listening to the way breath hitches--watching the way the reflection catches downturned eyes like a child playing in rain that’s starting to clear. There’s a hint of bittersweet revelry in it that prompts the forced lightness in her voice, and Kara’s hands raise just like that child, aching to catch it, fingers gently smoothing along shoulders like they aren’t in a vault of glass. Just for a moment before they drop. “Wait, you’re not firing me, right? Because that would be the,” A laugh, “Opposite of--” A sinking feeling of dread. “...you’re not firing me, right?”

“Oh, Kara.” Cat laughs, turning around, catching her hands as she does, raising eyebrows. “No. Not unless you’ve done something stupid to give me reason to, is there?”

“Not me. I’m absolutely innocent.” Her hands raise in defense, though her smile spreads at the sound of that familiar, faint laugh. “If you were firing me, I’d hope you would do it before I bought you lunch b--”

“Stop worrying about your job.” Tone drawling in a way that Kara can only hope is a tease: “For today, anyways. I just arrived at a decision, is all.”

“Right.” Kara laughs, a hint of nerves curling around the rumbling noise, “And I’m...never going to learn what decision that is. Okay, then. Well...then, thank you, Ms. Grant.” She straightens herself a little, moving back over to the discarded article, “It’s...nice to hear that I’m doing well.”

“Isn’t it?” Cat mysteriously hums, walking out of the desk before Kara can do anything but sink back down into a couch with a muffin and an article, trying not to cross the whole thing out.

It’s a wayward siren that pulls her from the couch, a kidnapper stopped and a girl returned safely home, and when she comes back to her desk she’s humming with something that should be excitement.

Until Cat starts shoving the few belongings she’s allowed to have on her desk (A CatCo rule, not a Cat Grant specific one) into a banker’s box, Kara stumbling in heels after her, pleading her case towards (for? against? between?) whatever it is she’s done this time, breathless for a woman that doesn’t need all that much air.

“B-But--I thought you said no about the fir…” They’re suddenly in an office, Cat dropping the box on a desk. “...ing?”

“I’m not firing you.” Cat says simply, hip cocked like the ever-ready gun that it is, eyebrows raised. Kara sees her drop something into the box, catching the afternoon rays of sun from closed blinds--and all she can do is blink. "I'm promoting you."

"Promoting...?"

A speech follows, something Cat Grant is good at and Kara Danvers never gets tired of hearing, and the younger girl slowly sinks onto wood, swallowing the rough sandpaper of her throat once it settles on her shoulders.

The end of working girl makes her cry, and so does every other movie where she gains something, but feels like she’s losing a little bit of something, too. The distance is crossed and Kara’s breath quivers--quakes--looking around a wide cavern of...white. Suddenly she feels like there's too much of it.

“I think it's time I told you something I don't think you understand." A nod, like Cat Grant is unveiling the mysteries of the universe to her protege lover. "I didn’t hire you because you were average, Kara.” Cat's searching the landscape of her face like oceans hide buried treasure in their depths. “I hired you because you pretended to be.”

“What?” A faint hint of a confused breath--an almost disbelieving, laughing noise--brows knitting.  

“Sure, you gave me this whole...weird, entirely unnecessary speech about being ordinary when you came into my office and I didn’t believe you for a second. I found it fascinating. Honestly ,” A hand waves in gesture, “I told myself I hired you on a whim, but I’ve founded an empire on one steadfast rule: ‘Trust. Your. Instincts.’ And I knew there was something special about you. I felt it. I was right.” A thoughtful hum: “Otherwise, you never would have lasted here after that first day. It wasn’t a whim.”

Outrageously, Kara notes on the cusp of a promotion--maybe the muffin from earlier wasn’t enough and she wants to taste her own feet, too:

“I...you’ve told me practically every day I’ve been here that I’m replaceable. Well, save for today.”

Cat’s eyes flick up, arms crossing. “Your job is replaceable.”

“My job.” Kara quietly catches on--dangerous and bold--notes. “Not me.”

Cat doesn’t answer--doesn’t encourage or refute--and that’s enough of an answer for a very surprised, pleased Kara, unable to help the almost giddy feeling in her chest.

“Don’t look so happy with yourself.” Cat seems to notice but she doesn’t sound nearly as annoyed as she might any other day. “Or do. You are being promoted. Of course you’re not replaceable. Why else would I hire you?” There’s a pause, Cat’s hand stilling, a hint of humor finding its way into her tone, “So you did decide to go with looking pleased with yourself. If I knew you were going to smile like Macaulay Culkin at his premier for that God-awful Party Boys all night I could have waited until Monday.”

“I don't think you mind that much.” Kara dutifully tries to bite her smile with a white row of teeth, but it doesn’t do much to temper it, voice upbeat and intentionally casual as she continues--as she attempts to push further into the waters, leaning over to brush their shoulders, hand coming to curl around a wrist. “I know you're busy, but I--could you stay? For just a minute.”

Eyebrows raise and Cat's smile is something close to soft. The look she gave her when a chuckling voice explained how Carter had tried to bring his entire comic collection with him to his first day of kindergarten, the sun painting lines of light along her cheeks while Kara tried to chase them with her fingertips.

“I just…” Kara beams, wide and quiet and a little breathless, “I’d like to share this moment with you, if that's okay?” A hesitant smile. One that is shared, though it's anything but hesitant as Cat leans into her, Kara's fingers tracing up to a bicep, head falling down to a shoulder as the smile spreads.

Fingers gently brush the hair from fluttering eyelashes. “That's ok with me. I guess the world can wait a couple minutes longer.”

“Everything's changing, isn't it?” It's barely a whisper on sun gently floating dust into the office.

“Change is a natural part of life. The forests grow and shrink, the polar caps melt, Tay-Tay finds another flavor of the month. And thus we grow and change and adapt with--”

“Okay, so not everything's changed.” Kara quips, eyes bright and playful.

“There's better things you can do with those new claws of yours, Dear.” Surely enough, Cat bats right back and Kara laughs despite the faintest red that still creeps up her neck. “You've changed, too. You're not that doe-eyed girl who stumbled into my office.” A sweeping gesture towards the world of possibilities in front of her but nostalgia still tinges Kara's voice. "It's a change for the better."

“I guess I have." And she has. "You know, I still can’t believe that you had me hand-deliver personalized fruit baskets that I’d assembled at 7 pm to every single member of the faculty on my first day.”

Kara can see--barely, even for eyes slitting behind dark frames--the edges of Cat’s lips quirk. “They certainly knew your face by the end of the day.”

“Or morning. I was out until 6 AM.”

Without missing a beat, seemingly nonplussed by the idea:

“That explains why you were there bright and early to give me my coffee. And you knew to be there every day after at the same time.” 

If they were closer--if Cat was Alex, snickering and teasing over a steaming mug of hot cocoa in the early hours of the morning--Kara might shove her shoulder. She might wrinkle her nose or throw a piece of toast her way, intentionally not hitting her mark out of habit (or, if she’s really annoyed at the tease, hitting between the eyes anyways). She might roll her eyes or even laugh in familiarity, but Cat Grant isn’t closer than Alex.

But she's not further, either.

She’s not a room away, the cool air settling between them like morning dew on grass, because if they had been...Kara’s might have crossed the whole world to get here in sonic booms and cascading flurries of paper.

They're somewhere in the middle-- they're somewhere together, now--and Kara shakes her head, settling back against the desk. She feels the moments change and pass and watches Cat--who’s never been anything but settled, anywhere she goes--trickle nails along a desk like rainfall with her free hand. 

"SevenO’-Five A. M.” Kara murmurs.

“Seven O’-Five A.M.” Cat agrees, their eyes meeting, a faint--almost mythical--smile shared between them before the older woman gently leans off the desk, her time likely up for anything but large decisions and corporate takeovers of other mags. “This had nothing to do with us, Kara. The promotion.” It's gentle, a hand quietly moving up to skim along a cheek, earlier speech still hanging in the air between them. “You've earned this.”

"Thank you." Maybe against the point, Kara kisses a palm, gratitude clear in her gaze, but Cat doesn't seem disturbed. “Three days to decide my fate, right?” She repeats the earlier ultimatum.

“After Monday. I'll be counting the hours.” 

That's sure to be literal, knowing Catherine.

Kara, bold and delirious and far too friendly, tugs Cat closer by a wrist, but instead of catching her lips, she just...holds her, nose falling into a neck, a little tighter than she should. A little tighter than she ever has, as Kara. She's something more, in this moment, than a meek assistant--something closer to a strong continued presence than just a lover--the faintest hint of ink and perfume in the back of her throat. A knowing hand cups her shoulder and she hears the faintest kick up of a heartbeat...and smiles.

“I'll see you tomorrow for Carter. Unless I can...convince you to come to game night, tonight?”

Cat scoffs as she pulls away but there's still a smile tucking up warm lips, waving a single hand over her shoulder in gesture as the queen gets back to her castle.

“Don't push your luck!”

Her Working Girl moment. Can it be that simple? Cat would say Carpe Diem.

Kara’s phone is out in an instant, hopping back on a desk--her desk--heel bopping in tune with a silent, happy beat (as it will for the rest of the night) already debating where they'll celebrate as a phone finds its way immediately to her ear. She doesn't wait until Alex greets her before Kara slams open the blinds, beaming, fishing out a necklace from a banker's box to watch it hang from her palm underneath the warm afternoon sun.

“Guess where I am?”

She doesn't need super hearing to guess that when her sister pulls away the phone, a disbelieving obscenity is soon bouncing off of the DEO’s cool walls, somewhere in the cells a Daxamite curiously looking up at the ceiling, wondering what wraith ghouls haunt this planet.

--

Rule #42. Cat Grant Quote #2: “Knowledge is useless if not shared, but dangerous if shared with the wrong people. I know I've stated that you’re only as good as who you publish with, and that's true…

It’s not unusual for Cat to stay behind on a Saturday, but it is unusual, nowadays, for her to have so much passing interest in Carter’s study sessions. Dark eyes have mysteriously appeared every few hours around the corner of a wall and Kara isn't sure if it's to check on Carter or her.

Mainly, she's not sure why Cat is suddenly so interested, at all.

“So...what you’re saying is that my teacher is wrong?”

“Your teacher is definitely wrong. Trust me, I have seen black holes…” Kara pauses, “Documentaries. So many black hole documentaries. I even had a really...really large lecture from Martin Stein at the start of this year.” It really wasn't as much of a lecture as it was a series of very pointed, fascinated questions about planets outside of Earth.

Kara was actually kind of lecturing the professor, really. Until she found out he’d encountered a singularity firsthand just the year before with Barry and, knowing Alex wouldn’t let her live it down if she didn’t find out the details, had tried to listen as intently as she could to a very nice, very erratic, very...scientific Martin Stein.

For three hours.

She listened for about twenty minutes before she gave up, politely nodding and interjecting a fascinated sound every couple of minutes like she's listening to Winn rant about Clone Wars or Eliza about genome structures.

“Martin Stein?” Carter’s head tips in curiosity and Kara waves a hand.

“Big...science guy.”

“Like Bill Nye? That guy on Netflix?” Carter asks, casual, fingers drawing endless circles on notebook paper that should be littered with notes. But Kara can’t blame him. All of her notes, to this day, are lined with sketches to keep jittery hands as busy as a wandering mind. Even her rule books are more sketch than rule.

When did Bill Nye get a Netflix show? Man, her and Alex really need to get their Netflix on. She's finding less and less free time these days between a crest and dark eyes.

“...Kind of. I guess.” She settles on, shrugging. “Anyways, yes. Your teacher’s definitely wrong. There is a possibility that you could traverse a black hole, but she is right about there not being any way to escape an Event Horizon.”

“Because it sucks you in?” Carter’s ears pick up again, now that they’re back on the part of the subject he recognizes, covered last week over donuts and Alex's factual tone on the other end of the phone.

But Alex is a little too busy running tests on the Daxamite and Carter...well, space, at least, Kara knows well.

“Right. It’s pretty scary, but fascinating, too. Like...if you were to cross this line--” She draws a series of circles within each other on the page next to Carter’s doodle, each circle a little darker and smaller than the last before she draws the smallest circle, filling it with black. She draws lines from the edge of the dark circumference out to the final circumference of the largest circle, an odd telescope-like shape on the page. “Imagine this is the singularity and it’s sucking all of the force outside of it into it. That includes light...matter...power...cows. Everything.”

“Like how we talked about.” Carter nods, leaning over the page, elbows barely smearing faint pencil lines. “Because black holes are like giant vacuums in space--”

“Vacuum like...absorbing and pulling everything into it via gravity, not vacuum like--”

“Like the endless, imperfect vacuum of space.” Carter quotes verbatim. Probably because Alex had drilled it into him every time he misused the word. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Right. Good job, Carter.” She squeezes his shoulder, a small, sheepish smile her reward. “So imagine everything is being pulled into this point. The singularity at the center of the black hole. Which means more and more energy is in each of these circles…” It’s overly simplified in a way she’s sure Alex could explain easier, but Carter nods, Kara’s finger tracing along the darkest black line before the hole in front of it. “Well after a certain point, you would need to be able to create so much energy in order to get past this point here, because there’s so much energy going against you, that it would be impossible. Nothing could go that fast.”

“I bet Supergirl could.” Carter’s nose scrunches and Kara can’t help the small smile, a hint of a laugh on her tongue. She catches Cat's eyes once more around the corner, a hint of amusement there, this time watching as she clicks off her phone and crosses arms, watching from the threshold.

“I don’t know, buddy. The fastest thing Earth--” She adjusts her glasses, “--knows of, because maybe someone else out there knows other...things. But we don’t. And we haven’t met them, yet.” A cleared throat, tapping the page, “The fastest thing we know,” She rectifies, “Is light. And Supergirl can go faster than light, sure...but in order to go fast enough to get past this point--the Event Horizon, where there’s no turning back--the force of it might...you know.” Kara tries to think of a nice way to word it, but can’t, “...split her in two?”

“Ouch.”

“Tell me about it.” It’s not exactly a thought she wants to think of. Especially since anyone who goes into the singularity is likely to have the same happen to them. Even the girl of steel. Probably. She doesn’t plan on finding out. Jumping into a black hole is not in her bucket list. “But even Supergirl can’t get past this point, because she might not be able to generate enough force to go against what's pulling her in. Think of it like someone trying to hold a door closed in front of you. If it was me ...I bet you could push me away. But if that was Supergirl? Sorry, Cart.” Her eyes are a little lighter and young eyes meet hers with a cock-eyed grin, shrugging his shoulders in defeat.

“I could generate enough force for you. But not for Supergirl. So Supergirl could get out of the black hole before she got to here, but if she got sucked in past this point…”

“No getting out.”   

“Sooo...if you can’t get out of it...what’d you mean by traverse it?” He hops back in his chair with a hum and a curious look that reminds her far too much of his mother, sometimes, Kara thoughtlessly straightening her shoulders like she’s being interviewed.

“Well, it’s only theoretical, but you…” She leans over and plucks up a small piece pencil, wiggling it in her fingers in a way that makes both Grants roll their eyes, “You know when you have a bottle of water and you spin it, when you stop the bottle, everything inside of it is still spinning?” Carter nods, the demonstration clear. “Well there’s a...theory,” It takes her a few moments to remember the Earth name, writing a few mathematical formulas down on the sheet in Kryptonian before scratching it out feverishly, shaking her head. She can't remember. Karen? That can't be right. “Anyways, there’s a theory that black holes are constantly spinning and, because of this...there’s essentially this ring --a ring singularity--inside of it.”

“But...why?”

“Well...are you sure you want to know?” Kara leans back in her chair, eyebrows rising, “None of this will be on your test.”

“Yeah.” But he’s curious--fascinated--the same way Alex used to be when Kara explained physics in space to her, and Kara can’t help the nostalgia that grips at her chest, leaning forward. She tips the pencil forward, balancing it on its lead.

“Well, when a star collapses, which…”

“Creates a wormhole.” Carter fills in, Kara smiling at him.

“Right. Well, under general relativity, when a spherical, non-rotating body of a critical radius collapses (meaning it's not moving) under its own gravitation--like if this pencil was to collapse down into itself--the theory is that it will collapse to a single point. Because it’s not moving, it doesn’t have any momentum. It has nowhere else to collapse, so it’s going to collapse down to its...tip. This lead.”

“Okay.” Carter nods and Kara tips the pencil, circling it with her thumb.”You mean it'd collapse down in a straight line?”

“Right. But Black holes are rotating, so when they collapse--” She draws an oval with the pencil before setting it back in the center, tapping the top of an eraser. “They collapse and the way the inside sort of...distributes--like that water in the water bottle?--it’s more like a sphere. So inside of a black hole, there would be this sort of...ring. It wouldn't be a single point, it would collapse into a ring. And because of that, the event horizon would be a ring inside the black hole, not a circle.” She goes back to her original drawing, pointing at the straight lines dragging up from the dark mass in the middle out to the outer rings. And then, around the darkest circle, draws an oval around it. “So if someone were to go into a blackhole like this, they might be able to avoid the singularity pulling them in because they’d be outside that pull.” A tipped head, “Kind of. See how the force of pull has two curves around it because its a ring?”

“Woah.” Carter blinks, looking down. “But...what would happen to them? If someone were to...you know. Try to go around the ring instead of going past it?”

“No one knows. I definitely don’t.”

“Well, I guess if you did you wouldn’t be my mom’s assistant.” Carter laughs a little--not a sharp jibe, but an almost familiar quip--and Kara smiles.

“I still might.” After all, she still does. The knowledge--her heritage--might be rusty and buried deep in the back of her mind, but normal, ordinary, regular Kara Danvers can’t see herself anywhere else in the world. Only, now she has to. In five days she will be. “Some people think that, since time is relative and...kind of weird? That if you were to go through this ring, it might shoot you into another dimension. Or another time.”

“Woah.” Carter repeats, looking down at the small little squiggles like they hold the same adventures pages upon pages of books had for her when she was young and Kara leans back in her chair, smiling at it, gently setting down the pencil and wiping smudges of lead from her fingers. “You know,” He starts, almost a little hesitant, bashful, as eyes raise up from the page to greet her. “I don’t know why you always make Alex explain this stuff to me.”

The question makes her chest a little tighter than it should and Kara smiles through it, but she hears Cat shift--reminds herself that Cat is leaning against the opening of the kitchen--hears the way her arms cross as fabric rustles--and knows older eyes can see right through her attempt at a smile. Hopefully, younger eyes can’t.

“Trust me, she’s way better at the science stuff than I am.” She pats his shoulder, “And actually likes it.”

“Well,” Carter shrugs a shoulder underneath a palm like it doesn’t make a difference to him, but blue watches the small gesture not quite raise as much as it would have an hour ago, eyes focused back on his study guide. “Whatever. Don’t worry. I guess you can still teach me math.”

Kara looks towards the doorway, meeting Cat’s eyes, knowing it doesn't quite reach, muscles in her lower back tightening when Cat doesn’t look away--doesn’t stop curiously searching her face for answers like how Carter had searched blank pages of a study guide--and breath quivers from lips when she forces her gaze back down to a blank sheet.

“Thanks, Carter. Come on, let’s go onto the next one.” 

The dishes clink as Kara calmly works a rag around them, drying moisture and suds off of porcelain and nails when she hears Cat lean against the doorway, again. 

Her voice is even--measured--like how it used to be on a balcony when she first drew lines on concrete between Supergirl all while simultaneously getting the hero to stumble over them.

“If I’d known my assistant was suddenly an expert on NASA when I hired her, I’m sure I would have wondered why she was bothering to fetch me glasses of water--I know, a very exciting, engaging task when you get to speak with me at the end of it.” A husking voice tickles a shiver down the ridge of her ear and Kara can't help but lean back into it, listening to the sound of Carter pack upstairs. Lenny Fontaine’s house, tonight. It means Cat will be spending the night in the apartment once Carter's gone. “But not a very good use of her talents.”

“I’m not interested in Space.” In what she’s lost--where she’s from and can never go, again--of all the planet’s she’s visited. She can still taste the cinnamon on her tongue in her dreams just as well as she can imagine who Kal-El would have been mated to, at home. What his wedding would be like. But it feels far more warm to imagine him smiling at Lois, smile creasing the corners of his eyes--it feels more like home than a vacuum she’d floated in for decades.

Although sometimes she traces the stars like maps with her fingers and misses it, it isn’t a hobby. It’s something she’s lost.

It's something she loves, too.

“I mean, I'm interested...but not for a career.” Kara settles on, sincere. Like a lost love. An old flame. A really, really painful breakup. Not that she's had a lot of those, but she's heard things.

Mainly from a mixture of Alex, Disney tv movies, and books.

“You know a lot about it for someone not interested in it.”

“I grew up with a family of scientists, Cat.” There's a hint of laughter, now, because that part is hardly a secret. Continuing to wash and dry, thankful for the company. It's not the first time they've done this routine, either. “My sister dragged me to science conventions...well, okay, she’s still trying to drag me to science conventions. My adoptive mother is a bio-engineer, my adopted father was a brilliant mathematician and scientist. Though I...actually don’t really know what he did,” Kara admits, “And Alex, while also a Bio-Engineer, is a pretty big space buff in general. What I was interested in,” A smile--more genuine than the one they’d shared an hour earlier, fingers smoothing out the inside of a bowl, water soaking a towel as she wrings it out and sets it back in its place. “And still am, is learning from the legendary Cat Grant.”

“My point is that you’re hiding who you are, Kara.” Cat’s ever to the point and Kara visibly freezes, breath catching painfully in her chest.

“What? I--I don’t--” A hint of a fake laugh, focusing on the bowl for a couple of seconds so that she doesn't break it while setting it down before she looks up, anxiousness curling down the edges of her lips, “I’m not--I don’t know what you mean, Cat.”

“I mean exactly what I said, Kara.” And somehow it's different from yesterday. From a bright conversation in an office, light and simple, and she's not sure what changed. “In the past few months, all of my assumptions about you have been proven correct.” Kara doesn’t have a chance to ask what exactly those assumptions are , picking back up the towel so that she has something to do with fingers that won’t prune no matter how long she leaves them in scalding hot water. “What I don’t understand, is why you would possibly shove all of that down. Hide your intellect from the world.”

“My...my intellect?” Kara asks, confusion settling in place of panic, towel slackening in her grip. A hint of relief showcased in a heavy breath. “Oh. Thank--I mean. Oh. You’re talking about my intellect.”

“Of course I am. I understand the need to climb the corporate ladder, Kara. We all have to. I certainly did. What I don’t understand--” Cat steps closer, eyes slitting, “Is why you feel the need to do it with only half of your guns loaded. Success takes everything you have, Kara. You have to grab it with both hands, not hide it. And even after I've given you a promotion--a chance--you’re hesitating to take what you want.”

“I’m...I don’t--” Kara watches the way the recessed lighting catches the necklace she'd slyly slid back into Cat's palms when she first arrived at lunch because it's far easier, avoiding that knowing stare.

“Ordinary, plain, humble Kara Danvers.” It sounds almost like a quote the way it leaves Cat’s lips, eyes still slit, “Why would you hide yourself for so long?” If this is how Hillary Clinton felt when Cat interviewed her, it’s no wonder she hyperventilated and ran out of the office. But Kara’s fingers twine in a rag, steam unnoticed by either one of them from the friction of it, a chin tipping backwards. It’s the first time she’s felt protective over herself in front of Cat Grant, not like a small child who’s been caught with her hand in a cookie jar (or, given her slim childhood on this Earth, like she’s eaten the entire pantry).

Maybe it’s because Kara isn’t the only one who’s spent months memorizing the way light settles on the dips and valleys of places the rest of the world doesn’t see--places neither Kara or Cat shows the world--and the sting in her chest is quickly replaced by something else.

Everything is changing.

“I like my job.” She argues, chin full of lead and nostrils barely flaring. Anger, unbidden and quiet and unrecognizable sinks into her tongue and she desperately does what she can not to show it. “I love my job. I’m good at my job.” She argues to the woman who gave it to her, stepping closer, voice challenging, “Well, I...was. I mean, I guess was. Good at my job. My...not my job.” Stronger--has it been five months (two and a half years?)and Cat’s just--“Just because you’re finally taking the time to notice me does not mean I’m hiding anything.”

Cat Grant is not intimidated, stepping closer, voice even and indomitable.

“Why do you think I hired you, Kara?”

The question only causes the anger to bat at the cage of her chest like the cutting talons of a bird desperately trying to escape--to fly--looking away for a moment as she drops the towel into the sink before she crumbles it to ash. “It doesn't matter. I proved myself to you.”

“Yes, you did.” There's something about the emphasis that steals her breath.

“And I was the one who applied in the first place, whether you thought I was ordinary or--”

“If that’s what you still think, I’m not the person who hasn’t taken the time to notice my surroundings.”

The statement gives Kara pause, anger stopping in its tracks for a breath as she blinks up at Cat, lips barely pursing.

“Why do you--” But she’s cut off by the familiar ping of a phone, shaking her head to clear rattling thoughts, breathing something sharp and cold through her mouth to pull away, wiping her hand on a nearby towel to clear it before reading the message. A sigh rattles her resolve. “I...I have to go. We moved game night, and James--”

“Don’t keep James waiting, Kara.” Cat hums, elegant fingers wrapping around a glass, snatching it off the counter nonchalantly, lifting it to her lips when she turns on her heel, “He won’t wait for forever for you.”

“Cat.” Kara protests, but the ever enigmatic voice is replaced by silence, lingering for a few confused moments before finishing the rest of the dishes faster than she should with eyes so close by. An almost ex-assistant stops by the edge of the doorway because she can’t leave like this--won’t--never will, following after a familiar, retreating back, watching for a few seconds as Cat so meticulously packs something for Carter off of a nearby bookshelf.

“Did you nee--”

“I’ve never regretted working for you for a minute, Cat.” Kara says simply, stepping a little closer. She doesn’t touch her--doesn’t forge the gap, especially with Carter so close--but when Cat turns to look at her, the anger has been replaced with something quiet and maybe just as strangling, but genuine. “And one of these days, ordinary or not, I’ll convince you to come to game night with me.”

Cat’s hand slackens on a tshirt, turning around to meet her, and Kara watches it--watches some of the tension ease out of her shoulders, lips shifting from taut to thin--before she scoffs, “Not likely.”

“That’s still a chance.”

“Ever the optimist.”

“You could say that.” Kara adjusts her glasses and they share a faint smile, Cat dropping a t-shirt in a bag before she nods.

“Goodnight, Kara.” A beat, “Thank you. For Carter.”

“Always glad to do it. Tell Carter bye for me? I really should...” A gesture towards her phone and another look shared--another slim smile--silence stretching in slightly more comfortable companionship before she catches familiar eyes.

“By the door.” Is all Cat offers, getting back to work folding. It's not a sight Kara has ever gotten used to--she would've thought there were just ever-present maids in their houses years ago--but Kara obediently tips back a small dish by the front door, finding a small blouse's button there. Ivory.

It's the first verbal acknowledgement of whatever ritual this is and a dusty swallow halts her steps right before the threshold, gaze searching shoulders. Cat doesn't say anything and Kara quietly tucks the button--too small to leave to chance--in a pocket next to a small picture. One more breath breaks the air and she leaves, door clicking with an ultimate finality, heading towards a room of people who love her but knowing there’s always going to be room for two more.

--

But the real brunt of it is that you’re only as good as who you trust.

It’s played on repeat in her mind, when she leaves, the way Cat’s tongue had curled when she said James . It wasn’t malicious--she’s seen Cat Grant tear down mountains with barely the flick of a few words, before--or spiteful--she’s heard, first-hand, Lois and Cat impressively turn a simple conversation into a complex roadmap of insults and back-handed compliments--but it still sticks in the back of her mind, playing on repeat like a broken record, thumb gently rolling the weight of a button between fingertips

It was...resigned. Not in defeat, but acceptance. It was acceptance .

“Hey-o, Earth to Krypton--” Winn waves a hand full of cards in front of her face and Kara blinks, sitting up straight, fingers cupping knees as she blinks. “You’re killing me here, smalls.”

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry, Winn.” Kara’s eyes flick over to the timer before settling back on her very, very downtrodden partner. Which is a shame, because Winn usually gets all into charades. She winces. “Don’t tell me I zoned out for the whole round.”

“I’ve been dancing around trying to get you to guess Godzilla for, like, ohIdon'tknow --” He waves the timer, “All of this.” But there’s concern mixed in with the friendly annoyance, stooping down. “You okay, there, Supergirl?”

“If you’re not, it still counts!” Alex shouts from the kitchen, but her head peeks around the corner, similarly concerned eyes settling on Kara’s shoulders. She can’t see her, but she can feel it like a warm blanket and she smiles, shaking her head.

“Yeah, yeah. Totally fine! I was just…” She waves her hand, “I just zoned out. Long day. I’m sorry.”

“You sure?” It’s James that asks this time, eyes conflicted and quiet and she reaches across the distance to squeeze his wrist.

“I’m sure. Sorry, guys--I’m in it. I’m here, now. Bring it.” She claps her hands, shifting forward, pointing towards her partner, but James catches her wrist, this time, holding up a finger.

“Hey, can we, uh--” A gesturing thumb thrusts back towards her barely-sequestered bedroom, “Talk? For a sec?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She straightens glasses. Stands and straightens a dress. Straightens her shoulder and a magazine she passes by on the way to the small corner, not missing the wincing looks her sister and best friend share over a board game. “Is everything okay?”

“That’s my line.” James notes, arms crossing as he leans against the wall, eyebrows raising. “No offense or anything, but you haven’t really been all that there today. Or...in a while. Winn is a really, really bad liar. Like…” He laughs, gesturing with both hands, “Worse than you, and you’ve had him covering for you at work? It's getting weird since he doesn't really work there.”

“Oh.” Kara winces a bit, slowly sliding the glasses off of her nose so that she can focus on the man in front of her, “Well...I didn’t ask him to…”

“What’s going on, Kara?” His voice is gentler--quieter--eyes flicking back towards the room before settling on her, dipping his head to come closer, crossing a bit of the gap. “Whatever it is, you know I have your back. Is it about the alien guy, because we’re gonna find hi--”

“No. It’s not--it’s…” She sighs, the weight suddenly heavier on her shoulders, dropping herself onto a squeaking bed with a sigh, “Complicated. But not bad.”

“It doesn’t have to do with…” He vaguely gestures between them and Kara shakes her head, folding the glasses and setting them in her lap. “Does it have to do with Cat? Since whenever you’re gone...” He tries again and Kara’s lips part, but no words settle on her tongue. “And...there’s the part I implied earlier about you being a bad liar.”

“James…” She sighs, hands nervously settling on her glasses before the bed dips, a larger hand, warm and familiar, smoothing over her own.

“Look, okay, whatever it is.” He squeezes her hand and she looks up at him, guilt a familiar breath slowly seeping between lips. “Just follow your heart, okay? Hey, your heart,” He takes her hand and points up to a framed picture, a stolen moment in time just for her and the guilt is strangling until she looks back up and sees his eyes--sees the familiarity there--and settles. “That’s what’s saved everyone in this city. Whatever it’s telling you to do, if you listen to it, I’m sure you’ll figure out the right thing.”

Kara squeezes his hand, thankful and quiet, letting out a slow, quivering breath as she looks up at the picture, leaning into him despite herself. “You...know when I said that I didn’t think I could have a relationship? I meant that...I can’t.” She clarifies, not letting go of his hand, because she does owe him this, the feeling of his breath on her lips not too faint of a memory. “I meant that there will always be someone who needs saving, or an emergency, or a danger...I meant that I’ll...always have to be ordinary, regular, humble ,” She quotes from a conversation James will never know, “Kara Danvers in order to keep my family safe. To keep Kal-El safe. And...and you’re right. My heart does always know what it wants--what to do--but sometimes...”

She stands, hands pushing through hair, tossing the glasses onto her bed as a rushed hand runs over her lips.

“Kara…”

“I just don’t understand what she wants from me. Who she wants me to be. I’m--I’m not who she thinks I am. Or, worse, I am and I'll never--”

“Well maybe it’s not about what you think she thinks.” James stands, grabbing his jacket in a hand, both hands gently curving over shoulders, lightly shaking so that Kara will look at him. “Like I said, I don’t know what’s going on. But take it from me, as your friend ,” James smiles and it lightens the room and Kara’s not sure why tears prick the back of her throat, something unraveling in her stomach, “And as someone who worked with Clark and Cat for years . If Cat Grant sees you at all, being yourself is all you need to do. Stop overthinking things. I get it, things...didn’t work out between us.” Hands shove into pockets, a jacket cupped in the crook of an arm, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you happy, alright?”

Kara leans forward and before she can think twice, lips gently brushing along a smooth cheek in thanks, hand wiping a hint of moisture from a smiling cheek, a taste of bittersweet on her tongue.

The perfect guy for a girl who doesn’t know how to pretend how to be perfectly imperfect, anymore.

“Thank you, James.”

“Hey,” He raises both hands in a humble display, still smiling, “But for the record? Alex is so gonna kill you when she finds out we talked about this first.”

“Oh, boy, yeah.” Kara nods emphatically.

“Yeah.” His laugh is light and she feels a torn seam slowly repairing, a needle thread with stronger string as it pulls gaps closed. “So...are you gonna go--”

“Cat can wait.” They share a moment, just a moment, before Kara tucks her arms in his, tugging him back into the main room, smiling at the sight of Winn and Alex huddled on a couch, feverishly whispering gossip Kara will do them the favor of pretending she can’t hear.

Since all of it is about her.

“I kind of feel like being with family right now.”

“We were definitely not talking about yo--oh-woaa--”

Alex shoves Winn off of the back of the couch when Kara comes into view, a groan coming from the floor as his head pops up over the back of it.

“Ok,” Winn’s a fluffed mess of hair as arms struggle to heft himself up, Alex shrugging as she lifts a beer to her lips, “Oww.”

“We were definitely talking about you.” Alex notes, “And you’re telling me later.”

Kara loves them in this moment more than she could ever hope to show, beaming as she tugs a laughing James over to the couch, shoving a potsticker in her mouth with a happy hum.

“You guys are great.”

“Well, pfft…” Winn runs hands through his hair and Kara lovingly smooths down an antenna of it, voice exaggerated and smile tucked as he plops down next to her. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

They get back to charades soon enough and eventually James and Winn leave the apartment underneath quiet sounds of night in the city, Kara and Alex settling down on the couch with blankets and a tub of ice cream, her sister’s head tucked in the crook of her neck.

“He’s right, you know.” Alex notes, taking a mouthful for once not safeguarding it beforehand like Kara might eat it before it even touches her lips, rain gently pattering the windows like an erratic heartbeat, “You should follow your heart.”

It’s all she can do not to drop the ice cream.

“You heard?”

Alex’s smirk is nothing short of a shit-eating grin, grabbing the ice cream from suddenly slack fingers, “Nope.” The ‘p’ pops, winking upwards, snuggling in closer, “I’m just that good.” A little more serious, “That’s always his advice. Anytime you tell me you talk, it’s always ‘follow your heart, Kara’. And I have to admit…” A little gentler, “It’s not bad advice.”

“Yeah.” It’s a little quieter, listening to the sound of the rain mix with her sister’s heartbeat--with the sound of the ice defrosting around a large tub. “He makes it sound so simple.”

“Because you’re the one that always makes it look so simple.” The tub plunks down on the nearby coffee table, a sister’s ever-attentive hands tugging Kara into her lap, patting a knee. “Your whole life you’ve always chased after your heart. All of us have watched that--the city’s inspired by it--and I’ve spent years trying to convince you not to do it and...I was totally wrong.” It’s a quiet admittance, setting the ice cream aside, “So...why aren’t you doing it right now?”

“I am.” Kara quietly argues, “I think that’s the problem.” Dark eyebrows arch and a sigh leaves from sagging, deceivably small shoulders as Kara turns around, dropping a head down to a chest now that it’s devoid of steadily-melting ice cream. And then pulls the bucket into her lap, folding around white with a warm spoon and a sigh. “I’m doing the chasing. It’s just...when did my life become so complicated?”

“You mean before or after you lost your planet, floated around in space for a couple decades, crash landed on a brand new planet and had to learn a completely different culture, language, and history?” Alex pats her shoulder, continuing, “Found out your baby cousin was a grown man. Lost our Dad. Flashed the whole varsity soccer team Junior year--”

“You’re never letting me live that down.”

“--Or when you became Supergirl and almost lose your life on a daily basis helping your sister protect the planet and routinely save the lives of all of the people we care about?” Alex finishes without missing a beat, shrugging her shoulders underneath the weight of Kara’s head, fingers brushing through blonde locks. “Your life-- our lives--have always been complicated.”

“Not ordinary.” Kara murmurs, eyes watching the rain gently roll down fogged windows.

“Right. But the point is,” Alex taps above the edge of a heart, right near the edge of a shoulder, “Through all of that, you’ve helped people. Our lives are only going to get more complicated, and I know you’ll still always help people. Your heart’s good, Kara, and you always follow it. It’s not going to stop. It’s who you are.”

“What?” Kara’s brows knit, leaning up in a warm embrace to turn around, leaning back just enough to meet Alex’s eyes, idly setting the ice cream back down. “What did you say?”

“I said it’s who you--”

“It’s who I am.” It’s a realization that settles as brightly as the sun in her chest, stumbling back off of the couch, “It’s who I am. That’s what she--she meant I--It’s about who I am. Not the glasses, not Supergirl, not--” A rush of air tosses Alex’s hair as Kara grabs her glasses, standing in front of her sister in a changed set of clothes, determination clear on her face a moment later. “It’s me . I've never even asked her. That’s it. Thanks, Alex.” A gentle kiss is brushed over a forehead, smile wide and easy, “I gotta go. Love you.”

“No--” The apartment is empty a moment later, Kara hearing the faint edge of “...problem.” half a mile away before she realizes she forgot something very, very important.

Another gust of wind in the apartment and the ice cream Alex has immediately lifted into a lap is replaced with a stuffed animal from Kara’s closet, mouth happy and cool with her roadtrip snack, the faint--very faint--sound of her sister collapsing back into the couch (probably throwing hands up in frustration but cuddling the bear, anyways) as she yells after her--

“Didn’t want it anyways!”

--

So choose who you trust wisely, Kara.

It’s fortune that favors the bold and Kara is apparently very, very bold today when the air cracks around her and she steps around the corner to see none other than Cat Grant, herself, slowly making her way into an apartment. Carter is dropped off, late night hours likely tasting like bourbon on Cat’s lips--just enough to get the woman through the weekend--and Kara isn’t surprised because the CEO always stays close to work when her son isn’t nearby.

The breath steels itself in her lungs, clothes soaked from the flight here, voice husking as she watches Cat still before she even talks--freeze like she feels her here--but it won’t be Supergirl that greets a journalist's gaze. 

“You’re right. I am hiding a pretty big part of myself.”

“Kara--” Cat slowly turns around, stepping forward just enough to be covered by the awning, nose wrinkling a little in distaste, “You’re drenched.”

“Yeah. I ran here.” She says simply, shaking her head, a few drops of water going with it.

“You ran .” It’s drawled, eyes barely slitting, and Kara continues before they can get stuck on a far easier topic.

“I don’t want James.” It’s blunt--to the point--voice as strong as Supergirl and eyes as sincere as Kara Danvers, heart pounding somewhere inbetween as she steps closer. Somewhere along a third line that’s developed between the axis of the two, tethered to a tired Cat Grant. “I know we didn’t talk about it, and I’m sorry if I let you think that I did.”

“It’s none of my business who you--” But Cat sounds a little quieter underneath the raging rain.  Water sticks a ponytail to a neck, glasses too wet for Kara to see, an arm wiping the moisture from fogged glass, shaking her head as she sucks in a small breath.

“I don’t want James.” Kara repeats, not letting the lie settle between them--not letting the other woman try to get another one in, either. “I don’t want that...that relationship. I don’t want conventional or normal. For once, I’m letting myself do more than want the not-normal.” Kara steps closer, feeling the water from the awning mix with the heavens, painting her hair in wet drops, smile shakily spreading, “I know you think I’m trying to push you into that, the traditional thing, but I’m not. I want whatever really complicated, beautiful, infuriating thing it is I have with you.”

Cat pauses and Kara’s close enough to see it, even through her glasses--watch the way Cat Grant, for only a few moments, is breathless.

“Sex.” Cat supplies. “It’s just very good, very frequent, very inventive s--”

“No. Well, I...yes.” Kara clears her throat--straightens her glasses--hands finding hips before one finger waves in indignation, realizing Cat’s steered her off track. “That’s not my point, Cat. You know it’s more than that. I mean, yeah,” A faint laugh, “The sex is, like... really really good. I agree with you. I’ve always agreed with you on that. But stop trying to deny it’s--”

“That’s a tall glass, Kara.” Cat shakes her head, stance mirroring Kara’s for only a moment before she saunters closer, water painting an invisible line between them. “It’s funny, after that week where you had that little--” A wave of a hand, tucking down Kara’s finger like an unloaded gun, unimpressed as she shakes off a few wayward droplets from a manicured nail, “Angelina Jolie dip into the deep end last year, I’ve always wondered why you didn’t just come into my office and demand what you wanted...until I remembered who I was dealing with.” There’s something about the tone that curls in Kara’s shoulders, stepping closer, only her shoulders left in the storm, now.

“Well maybe this is--” Voice quieter when she hears someone round the corner of the street, despite the fact that they’re far out of earshot, eyes flicking to the side before they settle back on familiar eyes and now-crossed arms. “Maybe this is me demanding.” A beat, brows constricting in something pained. “I don’t...Nevermind, this is not me demanding. I’m not going to demand anything from you, Cat. You don’t demand anything from someone in any kind of relationship. That’s not how it works.”

“Well…” Lips barely part, Cat’s hands sliding into ever-fashionable pockets as she searches Kara’s features for a moment, seeming to hesitate--to pause--before she steps closer, imperceptibly, and it’s a moment--a golden sun--and Kara doesn’t bother to stifle the hope blooming from barely-damp fingers. “That would be a change.”

“I just…” Footsteps sound in wet concrete and Kara isn’t quiet because she’s scared that someone will overhear, the silence between them fragile. She’s scared of something else altogether--terrified. She found more peace floating endlessly in a vacuum of space than this cracked line of cement, tiptoeing along the edges of cracked slivers of ice, trying to outstretch a hand to save her before they can both fall into unknown depths. A faint, vulnerable laugh on her lips: “I’m tired of my life being full of ultimatums. Of fitting into one box. Or...twelve. I just want to be with you, Catherine. I just want to be with you.”

“Kara…”

“Is that so bad?” It’s a question that she can’t keep from cracking, asking more than just a question. Something Cat understands, given the knowing eyes across from her: “To be tired at the thought of even pretending that I’m not happy when I’m with you?”

“Now isn’t the time,” Cat’s eyes close, “To ask me questions you aren’t prepared to hear the answers to, Kara.” It’s an echo of a time that feels so long ago and a smile is waiting for Cat when her eyes open.

“I’m ready to hear anything you want to tell me, whenever you’re finally ready to tell me.” Kara gently settles on, instead.

A car rushes past them, the sound of tires spinning through sputtering water onto the sidewalk not much of a distraction from the faint breath dancing mist into the air.

Ironically enough, the silence between them reminds her of space, too.

“If we keep doing this, there aren’t going to be any attachments, Kara. There can’t be.” Cat finally settles on--fights--and Kara feels like a hot air balloon, chest expelling with a gust of hot air, fire underneath the brim of her nose.

“Other than our friendship.” Kara argues, not willing to let that point slide.

A wave of a dismissive hand, practically conceding, Cat’s eyes dropping down to her lips. “But something tells me you’re not very good at staying detached, are you?” Reminding, “Miss, ‘I don’t do ‘casual’.”

“I don’t.” Kara agrees, but still steps closer, “This has never been casual for me. I’m not making a deal that I won’t...have an attachment to you, Cat.” She wouldn’t be able to, sincere and honest: “I already do. I’m already attached. You already have one, too.”

“Kara…” It’s her second warning, tiptoeing along dangerous waters. She’s a breath away, now, the woman in question curling fingers around her elbows, slowly untangling the crossed arms in front of a chest.

“You do, Cat.” Nails dip in the crevice of Cat’s very own personal fortress of solitude over a quaking heart, “I mean, you can't just...five months and no attachment? I’m not pushing you. I’m not asking for a relationship. Not a...courtship or the ‘hey come meet my parent’ weekend. I actually think a traditional relationship is the...exact opposite of a good idea. I don’t want to have lunch with your mother.” A faint laugh at that from slightly hunched shoulders that Kara wants to trace with fingertips, “In fact, I promise I won’t make you have lunch with your mother.” Cat’s laugh is a little more obvious, head tipping back to run her fingers along a chin before arms once more cross,

"That's a binding verbal contract." It's a hum that doesn't quite meet uncharacteristically hesitant eyes.

"Give me a piece of paper and I'll sign it." Kara promises. "I’m not as traditional as you think.”

“And you’re not ordinary,” Cat argues in a way that makes Kara shift on her feet--look away for a beat before she looks back and settles, meeting the challenge head on. If she’s intent on being honest with Cat, it’s only fair that she’s honest in return. The woman proceeding--letting it go, for the moment--tipping a chin back, “Nothing traditional. At least there’s something we can agree on.” Cat’s muscles flex underneath the touch but ease at the swipe of thumbs.

“Attachments aren’t bad. Letting people in doesn’t mean the end of the world.” Brows knit, thinking of family and open chests for hearts, “Well, usually.” A shake of the head, finally untangling arms, smile spreading when Cat gives no resistance. It might be contagious because the edges of Cat’s lips bat upwards. “Letting me in isn’t the end of the world. I promise.”

A murmur, “You’re intent on teaching me that, aren’t you.”

“And if you don’t want that attachment, I...I understand.” She clears her throat--tries not to swallow--tries not to lean into the soft touch of Cat’s fingers brushing along the bone of her wrist, a small gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed. “I told you I’m not going to demand anything. You can always walk away. We’ll just...stay friends and I’ll always be there for you. Always. I promised you that.” Adding, words wrinkled in a way her eyes won’t be for centuries underneath a yellow sun, “Maybe I’m not good at staying detached but I’m...I’ve had a lifetime of learning how to let go.” A breath, shifting on feet, trying to find equilibrium in the nearly imperceptible waiver of her voice, “Please.”

It’s a heavy statement that hangs between them and Kara lets out a quaking breath when it’s Cat that breaks the silence between them, fingers smoothing up a bicep--a neck--to curve around a cheek, eyes dropping back down to lips.

“This time there are going to be rules.” It’s a breath and Kara doesn’t bother hiding the wide smile that slowly bridges the gaps between her cheeks.

“I love rules.” It’s an immediate response as Kara breathes a sigh of relief, stepping closer, “I’m great at rules.”  Their bodies pull closer, city fading into white noise around them.

“We’re going to keep everything else strictly professional.” Fingers curl in the fabric by her shoulders before smoothing it out, like Cat isn’t sure whether to console or break.

“Yes, Ms. Grant.” Kara immediately supplies, closing the distance until a breath is all that stays between them. “We always do.”

Another car comes a little too close to the curb, a waterfall raining down, Kara thoughtlessly tugging Cat away from it before it can hit in a whirlwind, a hint of laughter breaking between them, a spell broken for only a moment. Surprisingly, an elegant wrist is the one that dips, offering open fingers to her momentary savior, nodding back towards the apartment. Wordlessly--immediately--Kara takes the gesture and their ascent up to a familiar door is uneventful and calmer than it should be. Natural. It’s only when the door closes and their fingers untangle--when those same fingers turn into molten silk as they slide along bones of a tilted hip, gently tugging Cat closer in something that, for once, isn’t immediacy or secrecy--that it feels heavy, at all.

“This is either going to be the best idea I’ve ever heard from you...or the most ill-advised.” Cat murmurs, hands smoothing up clenching forearms--biceps--curving around shoulders, ultimately once more finding a hand buried in wet, free hair, impossibly soft as she guides Kara down. “I’m leaning towards it being a horrible idea, Kara.”

“You can fire me if I’m wrong.” Kara offers, eyes settling on lips.

“Of course I can.” Their mouths are a breath apart and blue eyes watch water drip from the rims of glasses onto Cat’s cheeks and lets out a small breath.

It's time.

“Wait.” A nervous laugh strangles in her chest, fingers slowly moving up to dip in the black band of slim glasses, Cat’s look of surprise and confusion turning into something impossibly darker. Kara will never know words enough to describe the faint, almost knowing huff of air from Catherine’s lips, or the sharp curve of nails behind her neck. 

Anticipation.

She has to close her eyes as she removes the glasses from the bridge of her nose, blinks coming into focus so that she can see her--see all of her. Every inch. Every breath. Every smile. Their eyes meet and Kara could bury herself here, gladly, instead of going in flight to Rao whenever the time comes. Because it isn’t nakedness or vulnerability that spreads in her chest--

It's something close to freedom.

“ Oh. ” Cat breathes, one of the hands untangling to brush between the spot where glasses normally sit--where an impression should be, but isn’t--and skims up to trace the line of a faint, crinkling brow, instead. There’s a hint of moisture caught in a reverent gaze--an overwhelming amount of emotion caught between both of them--and Catherine holds Kara Danvers in fragile hands that have built empires underneath nails for the first time since they’ve met, a world protected underneath a curving palm.

"Hi." Cat breathes and Kara's swallow is so dry that the faint scratching tickles her ears, blood sounding a drum in her chest.

"Hi."

When Cat kisses her, Kara can’t seem to remember why she agreed to the notion of it being anything close to bad at all, murmuring against a warm mouth, glasses clattering to the ground as Cat pulls her tighter and tighter past an event horizon and into a singularity she can’t see, all of time passing between the touch of her lips:

“Yes, Catherine,” She’s breathless, Cat’s breath warming her lips, seeing the whole world behind her eyes, but only tasting it for the first time in this moment. It's intoxicating. “You’re right. This is probably a horrible idea.” But she doesn’t pull away. 

“Kara.” A tsk as Cat kisses her, fingers not as gentle along shoulders as they were underneath uncovered eyes when she pushes Kara onto her bed, crawling on top of her, a blouse pulled over a head in one swift, elegant movement. “Always the pessimist.” It’s a husked laugh in an ear as Cat pulls away, gentler, cupping cheeks. Lips brush over a left eyelid--a right--arms that could crush a building into ash gently circling, protective, around Cat’s waist, breath catching as she buries a prayer against a chin, blinking away moisture in her eyes. A wetness that Cat has the grace not to comment on as thumbs swipe underneath bare eyes, murmuring against parted lips: “It wouldn’t kill you to have a little faith.”

“I do.” Kara promises, not in the mood to join the charade, feeling light in her chest but heavy in her head, a contradiction of pained breaths behind her ribs, hand smoothing up a chest to rest over Cat’s fluttering heart, memorizing the familiar beat with free eyes. “I have it in you.”

“Then don’t worry.” Cat kisses her, fingers always tangling in free hair when they have the chance, easing them both back onto the bed, nipping at a lip. Promising in the most Catherine’s ever given her, Kara’s hand listening to the solemn drum of her heart, “Stop demanding so much of yourself when you’re not demanding anything from anyone else. You’re the only one giving ultimatums, Kara. It’s not so bad to want to be happy if you believe you deserve it.”

Kara lets out a quivering breath, trying to focus just on Cat instead of the entire world behind her, mind pulsing until she sees just dark eyes and smooth lips, honesty the only language left between them.

Rule #11...

She couldn't be asking.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this to a girl who wore a pastel sweater with a zebra on it, today.” There’s a world of words unsaid between them, Cat’s hand skimming down a cheek, fingers pushing underneath the fabric of a shirt to smooth up ribbed blue, Kara’s stomach clenching at the weight of it. At the want of it.

Lust isn’t always just a physical need and she feels something longing within her chest, lungs aching to voice it. Like every single fiber of her being is curling towards the emotion in her throat.

Towards Catherine.

“Let yourself be happy.” Cat might ask the world between them--might demand or request or promise, Kara isn’t sure--but fingers smooth up an arm to cheeks, holding a small body against her. “Let yourself feel like you deserve it, Kara.”

“Do you?” It’s a quiet question like a girl who’s just learned English, unsure how the world works or why sand crumbles beneath her fingers when she tries to hold it, fading away into the wind of a beach. “Feel like you deserve it.”

Cat’s lips part, the most Kara knows she’ll ever admit, a vulnerable whisper on her tongue, “I do right now.” It sounds dangerously close to I do with you.

Kara’s response is to pull Cat closer to her and kiss her for everything she’s worth, arm wrapping around warm shoulders as she pulls her to the bed, heartbeat falling into sync with the wild one against her chest.

Happiness.

The sound of a button falling out of the safe pocket of a suit, rolling along the crevices of a floor to be tucked away in a dusty corner, is forgotten underneath the sound of a moan.

It’s the first time she ever makes love to Catherine Grant and she refuses to focus on whether or not it will be the last.

Because they will define you.”

[killiancygnus]

Serendipitous Melody 7/?

Summary: Everyone has dreams. You might dream of becoming an astronaut or teacher, or you might want to become a doctor and save as many lives you can. Emma Swan’s childhood dream was being a singer. But with life getting in the way and never finding the courage to overcome her fears, she never had a chance to follow it. That is until a little push from her friends lead her to cash on an opportunity; and, who knows, she might even get more than what she’d wished for.

Rated: T

Word count: ~3.2k

A/N:   I know this is late I’m sorry but life happened. Anyway I hope you like this chapter! It’s currently one of my favourites. Huge thanks to @londonsbridge, @the-reason-to-sail-home, @katie-dub, @captainwiley, @irishswanff and @thejollypirate for helping me with the editing and to all the CS Writers’ Hub ladies <3 <br>Happy Once weekend and see you in a fortnight with another chapter!

Tagging some friends: @villains-happy-ending, @stardusted-nymph, @allisonchameron, @kmomof4, @hencethebravery, @mahstatins, @dassala, @imhookedonaswan, @ofshipsandswans, @legendofthephoenixcs and @csreviews

If you want to be tagged too let me know :)

Links: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 / AO3

Killian had been itching to go home for the whole morning. Luckily for him, he didn’t have much work to do that day. In fact, it was only after the last couple of lessons, some recordings, a short meeting and lunch with the production and the other coaches, that he could hop in his car and finally drive home.

It was early enough for the streets to be fairly clear, but as he accelerated down the roads butterflies started fluttering in his stomach. Why he was so nervous was a mystery to him. It was just Emma coming over; nothing scary. But she wasn’t just Emma anymore. He cared for her, deeply. Maybe too deeply, considering their situation. He couldn’t help it, though. She intrigued him.

Over the past few weeks he had gotten to know different many different sides of her. She had been fiery and determined to prove how talented she was; she stood up to him, not a bit scared to give him a piece of her mind. She had been forgiving and understanding, but also carefree and a great person to talk to. And yet, that woman was different from the guarded one who had been standing on the threshold of her apartment on Saturday night, but in some aspects she was still the same. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes for the entire evening and she had been more cautious than usual, but something in the way she’d looked at him told him she was grateful he was there with her. Although he didn’t exactly know what happened with Felix, he sure as hell was not going to feel satisfied until he would pay for all the pain he’d inflicted on her.

If at first he hadn’t completely understood why she became so guarded all of a sudden, the way Felix spoke to her and how she dealt with him made him look at everything from a new perspective. She might have closed herself off because of the frustration resulting from not catching him right away - he could understand that - but that poor excuse of a man had hurt her, both physically and emotionally. It was sickening how he seemed to have fun hurting her. In those moments, the urge to punch him had been strong, but as Emma had the pleasure of knocking him out, he couldn’t help but feel proud of her and wonder what her story was. And how could he not wonder after hearing her muffled reply? That hadn’t been the ideal time to ask though, so he just held back his curiosity and accompanied her home.

He hadn’t put much thought into suggesting that she come to his house for an extra lesson to let her sleep in; he’d sort of blurted it out once they reached her apartment’s door and he was glad she had accepted. And then he’d kissed her hand, only to run away right after muttering a goodnight, too scared of her reaction.

Kissing her had been an instinctive thing to do. She was just so cute, fighting to keep open her heavy eyelids, but still somewhat hyper after Felix’s arrest. He couldn’t help it. He’d actually thought about kissing her on the cheek, not even daring to consider giving her a small peck on those pink lips like he’d dreamed of, but then he’d chickened out and went for her hand instead. 

Now that he thought about it, he noticed that he’d never told her where he lived nor when she could come over. As he waited for his house gate to open, he shot her a brief message before going inside.

Emma had been curled up on the couch watching reruns of How I Met Your Mother for a couple of hours when her phone chirped with a message. Fishing it from under the cushion of the couch where it had fallen, she swiped her thumb across the screen to read Killian’s message.

K: Hello, love! Are you all rested up? I just got home so you can come over whenever you want.

Emma read it over and over, tried to think of a possible reply, which was crazy considering, it was just a simple and innocent message. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to go too early since he’d just got home from work, but at the same time, she didn’t want him to wait for her too long.

I’m freaking out over nothing, am I?

Letting out a sigh, she quickly tapped back a reply.

E: I did, thank you. I’ll be there in a couple of hours if that’s okay with you.

K: Of course! Call me when you get here and I’ll let you in.

After reading the following message with his address, Emma dropped the phone on the sofa and started to get ready to leave. And thank God she didn’t wait to get dressed because she’d been so distracted it took her twice as long as usual.

Hearing from Killian again made her dream about that kiss from the day before. It had been just a quick peck on her hand, true, but she could still feel her skin burning where his lips had touched it whenever she thought about it. There was a fraction of a moment, the night before, right before he kissed her hand and bolted away, when she thought he was going to properly kiss her. She wouldn’t have minded if he did. Not at all. But it probably was for the best. What if someone found out? He was her coach and she was his student, for fuck’s sake, she shouldn’t even think about them kissing. And yet she did.

Not thinking about it was definitely easier said than done.

She realized she had been hanging out with a famous musician when she reached the gate to Killian’s villa. Well, she knew that before and by his address she knew he lived in one of the most exclusive parts of the city, but as she stood there, waiting for him to pick up the phone and open the gate, it felt real for the first time.

It didn’t take long for Killian to let her in. She followed the lane, looking for a spot to park.

At first, the narrow gravel road was surrounded by trees and bushes full of small, white flowers, but when she took a turn, her mouth dropped open. His house was absolutely gorgeous: it was huge, its dimensions accentuated by the contrast between the dark grey roof and the white walls filled with large windows. Plus the vastness of the garden in front of it. It seemed too big to be the house of a single man, no matter how famous.

Once she parked her car right next to his, she took her purse from the passenger seat and walked up to the front door. As the gravel crackled under her boots, she couldn’t help but wonder why he’d own such a large house since, from what the papers said, his so called relationships always consisted in one night stands-

A light blue spot shimmering in the sunlight on her left behind some plants, and the feeble sound of swishing water, interrupted her train of thoughts.

Of course he has a swimming pool, she thought, walking to stand on her toes to get a better look. Unfortunately, a large tree was blocking the view.

“That would be a swimming pool, love,” Killian stated, leaning on the jamb of the door, arms crossed, an amused smile fixed on his face.

Emma turned around immediately at the sound of his voice.

“I… I was just-” she started, desperately trying to think of something to say as her cheeks turned pink.

“It’s okay, Emma,” he chuckled, and then gestured towards the room behind him. “Do you want to come in?”

Emma covered the last few meters that separated her from Killian and then stopped.

“Hi,” she muttered, smiling timidly.

“Hi yourself,” he replied, focusing his gaze on her jade eyes. “After you, Swan.”

Her eyes widened at the sight of the living room before her. The room was bright, lightened up by a large French window. The beige painted walls blended well with the light wooden panes and the bookshelf that covered the wall against which the sofa rested, along with the cream white hard wood floor. On the other side of the room, a big television and an electric fireplace were laying on a white painted brick wall, which divided the living room from what looked like the kitchen. It was elegant, with a few designer items here and there. Definitely not what she expected.

“Feel free to put your purse and jacket wherever you want,” he offered, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I can fetch you a drink in the meantime, if you’re thirsty.”

“No, thanks. I’m fine,” she said, putting both purse and red leather jacket on the sofa.

“How about we get started, then?” Killian asked, glancing at the stairs not far behind him.

Emma nodded. She followed him to the second floor and then to a room at the far end of the corridor.

“Here we are,” he said, holding the door open for her.

When she stepped into the room, Emma had to suppress a gasp, again. The room was huge, with large windows which granted a nice view of the garden and the same wood flooring that was used in the rest of the house. That was not what caught her eye, though. It was more the black parlor grand piano at the center of the room, the small collection of both electric and acoustic guitars, and the professional recording microphones and related equipment that did it.

Noticing the awed and yearning looks she was giving his instruments, he promised he’d let her try some of them after practice. That earned him a bright smile as she trotted to the piano, eager to get on with the lesson. Chuckling at her excitement, he followed her and they soon started with some exercises to warm up their voices.

Even though she had missed a couple of lessons, and surely had zero practice in the last few days, she still sounded as amazing as ever. She was so brilliant that they mostly had fun - both during the lesson and after - when they started playing and singing together to whatever popped into their minds. Sometimes he would join her at the piano, playing one of his songs with her, and he would sing along softly, their bodies so close she could feel the heat radiating from him and the scent of his cologne; some other times she’d get a guitar and sing with him.

When they stopped, it wasn’t because the sky outside was getting darker by the minute, but because their throats were starting to hurt from singing and laughing so much.

“It’s late,” Killian observed, glancing at the microwave clock as they sipped some water to alleviate the soreness in their throats. “You should stay for dinner. We can cook something and then watch a film, if you want?”

“I don’t know. I should go home.”

“Come on, Swan! It’s Animated Movie Monday, you wouldn’t want to miss it now, would you?” He pouted.

Laughing a little at his adorable pout, she gave in and helped him get dinner ready. Well, helped might have been an exaggeration since he was the one cooking. She mostly watched. And thank God for that since, unlike her, he actually was a great chef.

They ate calmly, he shared some funny anecdotes about fans and concerts, and they discussed which guitar was the best. It was absurd how the domesticity of it didn’t make her skin crawl, but she didn’t put much thought into it. Instead, she just enjoyed the warm feeling she’d recently started getting in her belly just by being in his company.

After having eaten and tidied up the kitchen a little, they plopped down on the sofa, putting a few bottles of beer and a bowl of popcorn on the tea table in front of it. Since it had been Emma who chose the movie last time, Killian browsed on Netflix for a bit before settling on Finding Nemo.

They weren’t even a tiny bit drunk when they started laughing uncontrollably at each other’s impersonations of Dory and getting lost in a never ending series of “Mine”, as they fought for the popcorn. It was silly, but neither of them cared. Eventually, they calmed down and went back to watching the movie as they sipped their beers (not without making comments, though).

“Can I ask you a question?” Killian inquired, only after their second beer.

“Well, you just did,” Emma giggled.

It was only after he gave her one of his ‘Really, Swan?’ looks that she added, “You can ask me another though.”

“What did you mean when you said you didn’t know anything about family last night?”

Emma’s eyes met his as she studied him. Surprisingly, she found herself wanting to tell him the truth. After all he did for her, that was the least she could do. The question was, did she trust him enough?

Yes.

“It’s not like I don’t know anything at all about family. I know something, but that something is so little it might as well be nothing,” she started and then took a deep breath, bringing her knees close to her chest. “I was found on the side of the road when I was just a few days old. The Swans took care of me for three years. I don’t remember much of the time I spent with them, but I was happy. However, that only lasted until Mrs. Swan got pregnant. Since their miracle baby was on the way, they didn’t need me anymore, so they sent me back to the orphanage. I wasn’t old enough to understand what was happening, but I definitely was old enough to remember how lost and hurt I felt when they got rid of me like garbage.”

Now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop the words from coming out of her mouth, but she was glad Killian didn’t even attempt to interrupt her and just stayed close to her as he attentively listened.

Gulping a large swig of beer, she continued, “After that I spent years in the foster system, jumping from house to house, until I ended up, twelve years later, in Storybrooke, a small town in Maine. The woman who took me in, Ingrid, had been the first person to treat me as a human being in years. She wasn’t doing it for the money like all the others did, she was actually interested in me. She bought me stuff, cared for my education and, she even took me to the carnival when I got a good mark in math. That day she told me she had filled up the papers for adoption. It was the best day of my life, I was so happy that there was finally someone who cared about me… I cried. Things were great with Ingrid: I had friends, a place to call home and someone who loved me. It didn’t last long, though. A few weeks after I turned eighteen, she died in a car accident. Since then, Mary Margaret, David and Ruby have been the closest thing I have to a family.”

When Emma finished talking, she shut her eyes tightly and focused her attention on the voice coming from the TV. She tried not to think about what happened after Ingrid’s death, but she couldn’t shake the images of Graham and Neal out of her head. As all the sorrow and betrayal she had buried deep in her heart long ago were starting to resurface, she felt Killian’s thumb softly caressing her cheeks, brushing away the tears she hadn’t noticed were escaping her closed eyelids. Her eyes snapped open and, as a few more drops fell on her cheeks, she looked up at Killian, his face hazy in the dim light of the room through her unshed tears.

“Emma,” he whispered, moving even closer so that their faces were only a few inches apart, “I’m really sorry that happened to you, and I know you’re not telling me something. That’s okay. I know what it feels like to lose people you love, to not have a family. But love, all these experiences made you who you are now. And you are a wonderful woman. I feel so blessed to have you in my life.”  

Blinking back the tears that were about to fall, Emma slowly covered the hand still resting on her cheek with hers and gently guided it to her lap.

“I’m glad I met you too, Killian,” she said softly as the corners of her lips lifted up in a small smile.

As an answer, Killian smiled brightly at her. And after that, she couldn’t exactly tell what happened.

Maybe it was because of that heartfelt speech and all the emotions that were running high through her body, or that look he was giving her, as if she had hung the moon, but one moment they were holding hands, and the next they weren’t anymore.

Her hands moved on their own, disentangling from his hold and grabbing the lapels of his shirt, pulling him forward to meet her lips. It only took him a second to get over the initial shock and respond to the kiss, but when he did, it was everything.

All the worries, all the “I shouldn’t”s and “what if”s were thrown out the window. It was just them, Emma and Killian kissing on the couch. Her heart beating wildly in her chest was the only sound she could hear, the spicy fragrance of his cologne all she could smell. She barely noticed him running his fingers through her golden locks as his mouth slid against hers, sucking gently on her bottom lip and muffling her moan. Their lips moved together in a dance as old as time, each touch of his soft lips sending a shiver down her back. The groan he let out as she breathlessly nibbled his lip made her even more desperate to close the space between them. But, as the need for air was becoming too strong to ignore, Killian kissed the corner of her mouth and rested his forehead against hers, eyes still closed.

“That was…” he gasped, finally opening his eyes, his voice hoarse.

“A one time thing,” she continued with a whisper, their mouths still so close that she could feel his breath on her now tingly lips.

“Don’t follow me,” she added, finally letting go of his shirt and running off from the house, picking up her purse and jacket in the process.

Not even the loud thud of the front door closing shook Killian out of his frozen state. However, as he heard the sound of tires creaking on the gravel fading in the distance, he followed the outline of his lips with his thumb, living in the memory of how kissing Emma Swan felt.