#very gentle preemptive reminder that it is not nice to tell someone they were more attractive in the past 👍

[chubbychiquita]

PLEASE post some new b/a’s I beg

evolution

[scxrlettwxtches]

a life with you | hwang hyunjin

genre: assassin au, epilogue(?), inspired by @chaninfused​ “row, row, row your boat” universe

description: when you have doubts about your future with hyunjin, the assassin is more than happy to reassure you that all he wanted was to be with you. 

word count: 2.8k+

a/n: i am officially a month late and terribly sorry, furat dear. TT happy (very belated) birthday to you! thank you so much for screaming with me about hyunjin, rrryb, and everything else in between. most of all, thank you for being such a dear friend. <3 i really hope you enjoy!

For the first time since Hyunjin became your friend, your confidante, and then your darling, doubts about your relationship began to fester into gnarly thorns, sitting in the deep recesses of your heart. 

It didn't have anything to do with your love for Hyunjin. On the contrary, your love for the man was stronger than ever, built upon a bond of trust and deep care for one another. Hyunjin had stood by your side through the highs and the lows, just as you had watched him discover what it means to love someone, watched him discover that he himself was capable of being loved. 

No, your doubt stemmed from an instinctual fear that the two of you were simply not compatible because you would never be able to assimilate into the lifestyle he grew up in. 

You thought you could do it, at first. After all, what's so hard about being well off? What's so hard about being able to splurge a little extra money on your clothes, your food, your overall lifestyle? 

You quickly learned that noble life wasn't quite as simple as that. 

For one thing, it was overwhelming to the highest degree. Ever since you agreed to attend the banquet with Hyunjin as his significant other, you'd been thrust into an endless cycle of dress fittings, shoe fittings, and practically any other type of fitting that exists. The party itself was also an overstimulation of all your senses; there was so much to see, so much to comprehend and hear and say that it all just got a bit too much for poor you.

So that was why you were here alone, standing on an empty balcony to find some fresh air, some quiet, and some peace. The wind felt nice against your skin in comparison to the stuffy rooms and banquet halls, and you couldn't help but wonder guiltily if you could head home by yourself. You didn't want to bother Hyunjin, of course, who was born noble and was probably enjoying himself. 

“Oh, thank goodness, I've finally found you!” 

As if the stars had heard you, Hyunjin stepped out into the balcony, his expression wrought with relief as he made his way towards you, taking your hands in his. 

As you gazed upon him, those long lashes, those soft lips, and above all, those gentle eyes that held nothing but love, affection, and concern as he studied your face, you found yourself once again falling deeper in love with him, as if that was even possible. 

“Why did you abandon me in there?” The assassin almost whined, and you fought back a smile as you rubbed your thumbs against the back of his hands.

“I just needed some air, and you seemed preoccupied,” you explained, ducking your head slightly as Hyunjin shrugged off his long coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“But you didn't need to escape so quickly without telling me,” he argued like a petulant child when his eyes suddenly flashed with a sharpness that you hadn't seen in a while, “Unless...did something happen?” 

Damn Hwang Hyunjin and his ridiculously fine-tuned awareness. 

You shook your head, running your hand up and down his arm, “Nothing happened,” you smiled soothingly. 

“But you look unhappy,” he insisted, cupping your cheek with his gentle hands, worry filling his dark brown irises, “My darling, please tell me what is wrong.” 

Inside, Hyunjin was panicking. He knew you better than he knew himself, and he knew the look of uncertainty on your face when he saw it. Were you beginning to have second thoughts about him? Was being with him becoming more of a burden than a blessing to you? Was the constant little weight in his coat pocket something that he’ll have to throw away soon?

Logically, Hyunjin was almost sure that any of those possibilities weren't true. You loved him, and you loved him dearly. The two of you have been through thick and thin together, and he knew your love for him was as deep as the darkest oceans and as pure as the sunrise sky. But yet, the coil of doubt could not totally recede from his mind. After all, you were always so much more than he could ever dare ask for. 

“Hyunjin,” you spoke softly, your smile so knowing that the assassin felt more at ease just at the sound of your voice, “Relax.”

“So something is wrong, my love?” 

You sighed, cursing at Hyunjin’s endearingly insistent nature. Hyunjin was a fixer at heart. Whatever was bothering him, whatever was bothering the people he loved, he was proactive about finding a solution. He’d go to the ends of the earth to find one if need be, which was what he did for your precious daughter all that time ago. 

But this, this wasn’t a problem that you were sure he could fix.

“I don’t know if this is going to work, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin had never experienced such physical heartache until this very moment. His eyes widened with alarm, a terror that he could hardly keep clamped down, but ever the gentleman, he waited for you to finish before interjecting.

“I know you were so eager to introduce me into this world, to give me luxury that I didn’t experience before, but truthfully, I don’t enjoy this lifestyle,” you confessed, gesturing to the ballroom where the party was still ongoing, where the lords and ladies chatted and drank the night away, “It’s stifling for me, Hyunjin. But this is your life, and I don’t want to take that away from you--”

You found your answer in the searing kiss that closed the gap between his lips and yours. Hyunjin’s kisses were passionate, palettes of red and orange that swept you off your feet time and time again, but they weren’t all consuming. His fire was warm, homely, loving, and you quickly found yourself wondering why you had any doubts in the first place.

“Is that what was worrying you?” He murmured, pulling away with bright eyes as he brushed the hair away from your face, “That I wouldn't want to leave this life for you?” 

“Oh, I didn't doubt that you'd leave if that was what I truly wanted,” you assured him, your hands resting against his chest as he listened intently to every word you said, “And that worried me. I don't want to make you choose between me and your life here.” 

Hyunjin shook his head, brushing your cheek with his gentle, yet calloused fingers, “You've got it all wrong, my darling,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours for a short moment before pulling away, “Come with me?” 

Confused, excited and only slightly worried, you followed him wordlessly, placing your safety in his hands without question, as you've always done. Hyunjin led you back inside the estate, but not back towards the party that you were so obviously trying to avoid. Instead, he took you somewhere the music seemed to blend into the peaceful silence and where the mindless chatter faded  into nothingness. 

"Am I even allowed to be here?" You were pretty sure you had no need to whisper, but you still found yourself doing it. 

“I'm allowed, so you're allowed by association,” Hyunjin said with a smile, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face as he laced your fingers together, tugging you down the hallway until he stopped at a particular room. 

“Miss?” He bowed dramatically, making you giggle as he opened the door, pulling you in. 

You looked around the space, a quaint little thing with a small office desk and a simple bed, but everything was clearly expensive and high quality. Even though most of the design and decor was quite minimal, there were little touches like the choice of wooden, the scent of the candle, the distinct stuffed animal that you remembered was once Nari’s. It all just screamed Hyunjin.

“Is this your room?” You asked with a soft laugh, brushing your fingers against the wooden surface of his drawer before picking up the small stuffed bear.

“Yes. I didn't need much space, and I'm not here often, so I just took one of the smaller guest rooms,” Hyunjin chuckled before turning and seeing you with the familiar stuffed animal in your hands. His expression morphed into one of nostalgic happiness at the memory of someone that meant the world to him and pain at the reminder of his own failure, “Oh, that was one of Nari's stuffies.”

“I remember,” you found yourself smiling sadly, lost in the memories as you squeezed the stuffed animal gently. 

Hyunjin walked over, eyes distant as he gently placed his hand on it's head, “Wherever I used to watch over Nari while you ran errands, she always wanted me to play with this stuffed animal in particular,” he chuckled softly, “I always want to have a part of her in my life, so I held onto it. I hope that's alright with you.” 

Your eyes watered as you gazed up at the man who you loved unconditionally. Such a gentle soul, a person who'd treasure all that were close to him, a man who had such a natural instinct to nurture and care for others. 

“Of course, it's alright,” you smiled, placing the stuffed animal down, “I-it's more than alright. She always loved it when you came around to see her.” 

Hyunjin chuckled, wiping the corner of your eye with a delicate swipe of his finger before gently guiding you to his desk, “Close your eyes, my darling.”

“Why?” You raised a suspicious eyebrow as your hip leaned against the desk and Hyunjin stood before you. 

“Because!” His lips curled into a pout, “I have a surprise for you.” 

“You better not have bought me another shawl, darling. I don't mind that the last one got a small tear in it,” you berated him preemptively, worried that Hyunjin had fallen back into his habit of overly indulging you for the sake of making you happy. 

Hyunjin’s eyes sparkled, and you wondered briefly if he was the only person who seemed to enjoy being nagged at, “Just close your eyes, darling. Please?”

Oh, he wasn’t playing fair anymore, not as he flashed those irresistible puppy eyes, and you could do little more than let your eyes flutter shut. You felt his hands take yours, guiding you to open your hands with your palm facing upward. Giddy with anxiety, your confusion was palpable as you felt a featherlight weight fall into your hands.

“Alright, open.”

When you opened your eyes, you could barely hide your puzzled expression as you inspected the piece of paper that Hyunjin placed in your hands. Unfolding it, you scanned through the contents to get to the chase and then--

The paper fell to the ground as you let out an audible gasp, whipping your head up to glance at your lover. It was his sheepish, excited and slightly anxious expression that truly made it real to you.

“Was that a good gasp or a bad gasp?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“It’s…” you swallowed, still trying to sort through the plethora of emotions that were clouding your mind, “it’s real.”

Hyunjin couldn’t fight his smile, realizing that he’d made you speechless for one of the first times in his life, “It is, darling.”

“B-but, it’s right in that secluded area outside of town, the place that I always--” you spun around to face Hyunjin, utterly dumbfounded, “How did you know?”

The assassin laughed, picking up the deed which you had rather unceremoniously dropped on the floor, “We were taking the carriage back to your bakery once, and I noticed the way you looked at the cottages in that area. Plus, you mentioned once that you’d want to live a simple and secluded life, and this location fit your description quite perfectly. It’s nothing really--”

Your lips pressed against his as you shut him up with a sweet kiss, cupping his cheeks and holding him close, “I love you,” you murmured without an ounce of hesitation as you pulled away from Hyunjin, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

Hyunjin looked dazed, utterly lovestruck as he gazed into your eyes, pulling you towards him as he sat on the edge of his desk, “Do you like it?” He asked softly, playing with your fingers and making you smile. Oh, Hyunjin, always so eager to please, so eager to do things right for you, to make your life easier. You wondered how you ever deserved such a lover. 

“I do,” you smiled softly, looking down at your hands.

“It’s a small cottage, but it has enough space for us and...more...if that situation ever arises,” Hyunjin’s ears seemed to redden, and your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he was so gently insinuating. 

“I love it,” you whispered, watching as your fingers laced together. 

Hyunjin’s eyes brightened, “You do?”

“I do,” you smiled at his eagerness, “Do you? Do you want this life? I won’t fault you at all if you do not--”

“Oh, my darling,” Hyunjin murmured, gazing into your eyes as you drowned in his loving gaze, his bottomless affections for you that gave you the butterflies even after so long, “When will you realize that I want nothing more than to live a quiet, simple life with you? When will you realize that some of my most treasured moments were with you and Nari in your cramped little bakery? All I've ever wanted was to find a nice, quaint little location that wasn't too far from the town, and for us to grow old there together…”

Your eyes welled with unshed tears as you brought his hand to your lips, kissing it gingerly, “That’s all I want, too,” you confessed, “I want to live quietly and happily with you, put our suffering behind us…”

Hyunjin was silent for a moment before he tugged you towards him, “If that’s what we both want,” he trailed off, red dusting his cheeks as he looked down, “would you like to get married?” 

It wasn’t a sudden proposal. Hyunjin and you had vaguely mulled over the idea for months now, especially since it was becoming increasingly clearer that the two of you loved no one but each other. But to hear those direct words falling from his lips, with no lighthearted quips or jabs to deflect the sincerity of it, it utterly floored you.

The assassin took your silence for doubt, and he looked back up at you with shining eyes, “I know you had bad experiences with your past marriage. My line of work isn’t exactly stable either. But, Y/N, I’ll spend my life showing you that a future with me will be worth your while. Would you,” he swallowed nervously, “would you let me do just that, my darling?”

“Oh, darling,” you murmured, reaching forward and cupping his cheek with your hand. He leaned into it almost desperately, “You have nothing to prove, nothing to show. We’re equals in this relationship,” you smiled, standing on your tiptoes and gently pecking him on the nose, “And yes, I’d love to marry you, Hyunjin.”

The childlike sparkle in his eyes made you giggle as you watched him physically process your words. Slight confusion, then disbelief, then awe. 

“Really?! Oh, my love, I’m so happy!” Hyunjin lifted you in his arms, spinning you around as you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. When he placed you down, he fumbled around in his back pocket, eyes wide, “I-I can’t believe I forgot this! We were having such a soft moment and the question just slipped out of my mouth--”

Giggles burst from your lips as Hyunjin finally managed to pull out a black velvet box, revealing a small, simple, yet priceless diamond ring. It was so undeniably Hyunjin to get so caught up in proposing that he’d forget to present the engagement ring to you, and you found the two of you chuckling about it up until he gingerly slipping the silver band onto your third finger.

“Oh, I do have a request from Jisung, who wants to be present at the wedding,” Hyunjin said when the two of you were finally curled up in his bed, embracing each other’s warmth.

“I’d be happy to invite him,” you chuckled, looking down at your finger and at the glimmering stone that now rested on it, “It’s beautiful, by the way. The ring.”

Hyunjin smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your hair, “I passed a jewelry shop when I was running some errands for your bakery, and it just reminded me so much of you,” he said, brushing his fingers across is, “Elegant and beautiful.”

“Such a flatterer,” you complained to hide the heat in your cheeks.

“Oh, no no. There will be much more of that now that we’re engaged,” Hyunjin teased, tickling your waist, “I hope you’re prepared.”

And you were prepared, alright. All of the trials, tribulations, and the joys of marriage, you were ready for all of it as long as Hyunjin was by your side.

fin.

[the-final-sif]

could ya tell me more about Kat drawing? like one of favorite headcanons ever and mainly because of you. bruh Katsuki hakamata au really made uwu with his sketchbook i would love to know more headcanons on that

Okay! Katsuki drawing is one of my favorite smaller headcanons for him!

He draws almost exclusively realistic stuff. If he’s drawing for fun, then he’s drawing memories and moments from his life, sometimes scenery, and sometimes on his worst days scenes from his nightmares, but all things that he’s seen somewhere else. He also draws out designs for costumes/weapons, but they tend to be pretty realistic/technical drawings.

That’s because art is a form of processing for him. Katsuki has a lot of trouble with processing and understanding his own emotions. He wasn’t taught any self-reflective skills or emotional control skills when he was younger, and as a result he often experiences intense emotions that he doesn’t even understand let alone know how to handle.

Art is one of the few methods of dealing with those emotions that he has. It lets him reflect on the day, thinking over how things went and deciding how he feels about something as he sketches it out. It also lets him thing about his own actions and what he might want to change about them.

When he’s designing stuff, it’s still a form of processing, but it’s more of him processing his ideas and figuring out what he wants the design to be/do. A lot of it tends to reflect how he wants himself or others to change in the future.

That can mean redesigning his costume to be better for rescue work, but sometimes it means drawing up a redesigned version of Izuku’s costume which has better protective features on it, because Katsuki doesn’t know how to express his concern to Izuku in anything even approaching a healthy way, but he knows how to design better arm and leg guards. That’s much easier.

The only thing he never draws is himself. No part of him is included in his sketches, only ever the world around him. Even when he designs new upgrades and versions of his costume, there’s no Katsuki inside the costume.

He doesn’t like to think about why he doesn’t draw himself. It’s a line he doesn’t cross. Deviling too deep into feelings and ideas he isn’t ready for.

Drawing is a quiet period for him, time when he lets himself be alone with his thoughts and his feelings. And those are not thoughts and feelings he wants to deal with.

In the Katsuki Hakamata AU, that starts out being times when he’s truly alone and knows nobody else can come in and see him drawing. It’s one of the few times he’ll actually feel safe and let himself experience his emotions properly. So much of his life is spent shoving his emotions down and pretending that he doesn’t have them, that having a bit of time to himself to feel those emotions again is vital for him. Only ever when he’s sure he’s alone though, and nobody else will know he has feelings. It’s too dangerous otherwise.

But slowly that changes. As he learns other methods of emotional processing, and as he learns to open up and trust others again, he starts drawing around other people. Art is still a very important moment of reflection for him, but it’s a form of reflection that he can share with other people too.

With enough time, his class adjusts to Katsuki drawing around them. People learn quickly that if he’s drawing, he’ll be fairly quiet and focused on it. They can ask him questions about the artwork if they want, he may or may not feel up to telling them, but often times he will. They always try not to bother him with questions about other stuff though, otherwise he might lose focus.

It takes until well into their second year before Katsuki feels comfortable enough with his classmates and his artwork to start giving it to people.

Obviously it starts with the designs. He knows he’s good at designing shit, and he’s got god knows how many different designs for various people tucked away. Hell he’s made designs for heroes he’s never met before just because the idea struck him. The support department loves and hates him for all the designs he’s got for his own stuff. And some things about his classmates’ costumes or items were bothering him too much to stay quiet about.

So he gets proper blueprint paper, double checks all the support department’s regulations and design rules even though he knows them all by heart, and he draws up a few improvements and new items. New padding and bracing for Izuku because holy shit he needs it. A better electricity regulator for Denki because he’s been zapping himself more lately and Katsuki might be a bit worried about that. Some hidden weapons for Ochako, because she’s got those so many damn places to hide them and Katsuki knows she’d put those weapons to good use.

Once he’s got the first round of designs done, he’s not quite sure how to give them to the others. He doesn’t want to have to explain shit, and he’s already feeling kinda embarrassed about it.

So he.... doesn’t. Kinda. Katsuki slips the drawings under their doors when he knows they’re out instead. Each tucked into a nice envelope and address to them. They’ll still know it’s from him, because of course it is, but this way he doesn’t have to figure out what to say.

That becomes his new routine, slipping drawings under his classmates’ doors with upgrade ideas for them. They always thank him, with big smiles and hugs and excited chattering. He’ll huff at them and look away, but he still loves seeing them using the new stuff. It makes a warm feeling bubble up in his chest when he’s out on the field and sees something he designed come in handy.

It’s not always just his classmates either. He may’ve designed better eye guards for Aizawa-sensei, ones with built in eye drops to make it easier on him. Just maybe. Hawks finds designs for a jacket that’s easier on his wings on his desk.

All-Might’s not a hero anymore, so he doesn’t need any support weapons or costume changes. But when winter comes around, and cold starts to burrow it’s way into his old bones, he finds a thick homemade scarf on his desk in the teacher’s lounge. It’s extremely warm, and he knows who made it, even if there’s no note. He wears it all winter and well into spring, and doesn’t miss how young Katsuki’s face seems to soften a bit when he sees it.

It’s not until their third year that Katsuki works up the courage to give away some of his art that isn’t a design. To anyone other then Auntie Inko that is.

The very first gift to is to Aizawa, at the start of the school year, when Katsuki can already see the nostalgia creeping into his teacher’s gaze, his preemptive worry over his kids heading out into the ‘real world’ even though he knows they’ve been there for a long time. 

He goes through his sketchbook and he picks out the very best of his pieces, those of his classmates and his teacher. Sure, he’s got more of some people then others, but he tries to keep it an even amount of each person. Some of the pieces need little touch ups or fixing before he’s happy with them, but once he is, he makes copies of each piece for his own collection, and the originals are bound together into a careful book.

This time he doesn’t leave it on Aizawa’s desk like he might a design. This is too important for that. He can’t quite look Aizawa in the eye when he hands it to him after class, but he does manage to mutter out a “Happy last year with this hell class.”

He doesn’t stay to see Aizawa’s reaction, but his teacher finds him afterwards and hugs him anyways. He tells Katsuki that he loves it, but comments very lightly that there’s someone missing from it. Katsuki knows, but he doesn’t have an answer for that yet.

Other people start getting artwork from Katsuki after that. They usually get copies rather then the originals, and it’s usually artwork of them. Izuku is the exception, he always gets the original copies because Katsuki knows he likes those. Most of it is just memories that he thinks they’ll want to hold onto.

Tsunagu gets drawings, of course he does. It’s less then Katsuki gives to other people, because if he’s giving artwork to his dad then he wants it to be good, but he still gets some. Tsunagu treasures each piece, but he notices the same pattern Aizawa does.

There’s pieces of Tsunagu in battle, pieces of him on his own, or with Kugo, or Hawks, and even one of him sitting beside Aizawa. Pieces of him rescuing civilians, or holding various children he’s met. But none of him and Katsuki. None of Katsuki at all.

He doesn’t press at it, but he mentions it offhand every so often. Gentle as he can be.

Katsuki knows, and it’s not until he’s almost graduated that he finally works up the courage to do what he hasn’t managed since he was a child.

He’s been working on the piece all year. His very first piece that isn’t a memory, isn’t a scene from real life or a future design. Something created from his own mind. It’s a big one. It’s got all his classmates in it. Aizawa-sensei. Mic-sensei. All-Might. Eri. His dad. Auntie Inko. Kugo. Hawks. Everyone’s there. Most of it is done, most of it but not the center, the focal point of the piece.

Drawing himself into the piece, one in which everyone is smiling and happy, had felt wrong each time he picked up his pencil. Felt like a lie, felt like he was sullying something perfect with something that didn’t belong.

Even now as he sketches himself into the picture, the last person missing from it, it still feels wrong. But he does it anyways. He pushes past the clench of his chest and reminds himself that he belongs here. He belongs in the picture too, smiling like everyone else is.

It takes longer then he would’ve liked, but he finishes the piece. When he puts down his brushes, done with the coloring at long last, and he takes it all in, that’s when it feels right. To see himself smiling with his family all around him.

Each person in the photo gets their own copy of it, each person but Tsunagu, who gets the original which he gets framed and is hung up in his living room. Katsuki doesn’t keep a copy of it for himself, he doesn’t need to. If he ever feels like seeing it, then all he needs to do is go visit any member of his weird, giant, amazing family.

[polishandpaperbacks]

Hey everyone! Today on the blog I have an excerpt post from one of my favorite author’s next books, Chosen. Chosen is the second book in the series, and it takes place in the world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  Presumably there are spoilers from the first book below this line, so don’t read on if you haven’t read Slayer. Instead, go out and buy Slayer and devour it immediately!

Nina continues to learn how to use her slayer powers against enemies old and new in this second novel in the New York Times bestselling series from Kiersten White, set in the world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Now that Nina has turned the Watcher’s Castle into a utopia for hurt and lonely demons, she’s still waiting for the utopia part to kick in. With her sister Artemis gone and only a few people remaining at the castle—including her still-distant mother—Nina has her hands full. Plus, though she gained back her Slayer powers from Leo, they’re not feeling quite right after being held by the seriously evil succubus Eve, a.k.a. fake Watcher’s Council member and Leo’s mom. And while Nina is dealing with the darkness inside, there’s also a new threat on the outside, portended by an odd triangle symbol that seems to be popping up everywhere, in connection with Sean’s demon drug ring as well as someone a bit closer to home. Because one near-apocalypse just isn’t enough, right? The darkness always finds you. And once again, it’s coming for the Slayer.

And onto the Excerpt!

Chapter 1 1

THE DEMON APPEARS OUT OF nowhere. Claws and fangs fill my sight, and every instinct screams kill. My blood sings with it, my fists clench, my vision narrows. The vulnerable points on the demon’s body practically flash like neon signs. “Foul!” Rhys shouts. “No teleportation, Tsip! You know that.” Even while playing, Rhys can’t help but be a Watcher, shouting out both advice and corrections. He’s not wearing his glasses, which makes his face look vague and undefined. Cillian passes him, mussing Rhys’s carefully parted hair into wild curls and laughing at Rhys’s frustration. I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head of the impulse to kill this demon I invited into our home and swore to protect. “It’s just soccer,” I whisper. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even like soccer.” “Football, bloody American,” Cillian sings, neatly stealing the ball from me. His shorts are far shorter than the January afternoon should permit, but he seems impervious to cold. Unlike those of us who are translucently pale at this point in winter, his skin is rich and lovely. He passes to Tsip. Tsip is a vaguely opalescent pink, shimmering in the sunlight. She paints her claws fun colors when we do manicure nights, and I try desperately not to miss Artemis. I stay rooted to the ground where I’m standing. Tsip caught me off guard, but that shouldn’t matter. I like her. And the fact that I went from trying to score a goal to plotting a dozen ways to kill my opponent in a single heartbeat is frankly terrifying. I can’t get my heart under control, can’t shake the adrenaline screaming through my veins. “Gotta take over for the Littles. I’m out.” I wave and jog from the field. No one pays me much attention. Jade is lying on the ground in front of the goal, the worst goalkeeper ever. Rhys and Cillian are bodychecking each other in increasingly flirty ways. Tsip keeps shimmering and then resolidifying as she remembers the no-teleportation rule. They’re all happy to keep going without me, unaware of my internal freak-out. I’ve deliberately kept them unaware. Things here are going so well. I’m in charge. I can’t be the problem. So none of them know how I can’t sleep at night, how my anger is hair-trigger fast, how when I do manage to sleep, my dreams are … Well. Bad. They don’t need to know and I don’t let them. Except for Doug, his bright yellow skin almost nineties Day-Glo levels in the thin winter sun. Annoying emotion-sniffing demon. He watches me from our goal, his nostrils flared. I can’t lie to him the way I can to everyone else. I shake my head preemptively. I don’t want to talk about it. Not with him. Not with anyone. There’s only one person I want to talk to about it, but Leo Silvera’s not exactly available. I do a quick sweep of the perimeter of the castle. Leo loved me. Check the woods. Leo betrayed me. Check the locks on the outbuildings. Leo saved me. Pause and just listen and look, feeling for anything pushing against my instincts. I let Leo die. I keep walking. Leo loved me, betrayed us, saved us, and then died, and I can’t be sad without being mad or mad without feeling guilty or guilty without feeling exhausted. Past the meadow, the tiny purple demons are taking turns pushing each other on the tree swing. That, or they’re trying to push each other off. It’s hard to tell with them. With nothing else needing my attention outside, I end up at the front stairs to the castle. “Hey, Jessi.” I wave halfheartedly to our resident vengeance demon. She’s leading the Littles through an elaborate game of hopscotch. George Smythe, bundled up and barely able to see under a floppy knit hat, is shouting each letter as he lands on it. “G!” “What?” Jessi snaps at me. “E!” “I can take over for you.” I find the Littles soothing. They might be three incredibly hyper children constantly needing snacks, entertainment, and education, but at least none of them ever randomly triggers a kill reflex in me. “A!” “No,” Jessi says, her voice as sweet as summer fruit. “G-E-what-comes-next …” “O!” George course corrects, wobbling on one short leg before jumping to the required O. “Good! Oh, you’re so clever. Priya, how are your letters coming?” Priya, a tiny moppet with shiny black hair, is crouched over her own chalk work, which looks more like Klingon than any alphabet I’m familiar with. “Very good, darling! You’re really working hard. Hold the chalk with one hand, like we talked about. Thea, love, fingers out of noses, please—that’s a dear.” And to think, we once considered these children the entire future of the Watchers. I watch as Thea spins until she falls flat on her bottom. Actually, the future of the Watchers is pretty accurately captured here. I pat Jessi on the arm. “So, you can take the afternoon off.” Everything sweet in Jessi’s voice turns to ice. “I said no. I don’t trust you with these three precious wonders. We have an entire day’s curriculum to get through, and we haven’t even done story time yet or finished our art projects. Are you going to do any of that with them?” “I—I could?” “You were going to turn on a cartoon and read while their fertile minds were filled with weeds.” Jessi doesn’t have her powers anymore, but I’m pretty certain if she did, I would have been vengeance-demoned right into something oozing and seeping. She’s already turned away from me and back to her three charges. Her whole face is full of gentle warmth and absolute love. “R!” George declares, hopping emphatically down on it. Jessi claps like he’s cured the common cold. Thoroughly dismissed, I skulk up the stairs and into the castle. Jessi could at least pretend to be nice. She’s got a lot of enemies out there—vengeance is a nasty cycle—and without her powers she’s vulnerable. We took her in despite her obvious hatred for everyone over the age of ten. There was some debate, given her history, but my mom argued in her favor. It’s a little easier to forgive a vengeance demon who made it her immortal life’s work to avenge children than a vengeance demon who specialized in, say, fantasy league sports rivalries. But Jessi’s dismissal leaves me with nothing to do. I used to have my medical center and my studies, all my little Watcher duties. Even with so few of us, the castle ran as near to Watcher traditions as we could manage. Which in retrospect was absurd, since we didn’t have a Slayer and weren’t actually doing anything Watchers should. But now everything has changed. We lost Watchers—Wanda Wyndam-Pryce, sulking off into the sunset, good riddance. Bradford Smythe, murdered. Eve Silvera, secretly a succubus demon and murderer, smushed thanks to my actions. Artemis, off to find herself with her awful girlfriend, the thought of whom makes my jaw ache as I grind my teeth. And Leo, who didn’t warn us what his mother was (and what he was) but fought her to give us enough time to stop her from opening a new hellmouth. And now we have a Slayer, again some more, thanks to Leo somehow returning the powers his mother stole from me. I don’t know how he did it, and it hurts too much to think about, like everything else. I spend so much of my days trying not to think, and it’s harder than it should be. I used to believe that all Slayers did was act without thinking. I was wrong, but I wish it were true. There’s so little acting and so much thinking these days. It’s good. It’s all good. It’s good, I remind myself, over and over like a chant. Sanctuary, what we decided to turn our castle into, is just starting out, but it’s exactly what we dreamed it could be. We’ve taken in demons who had nowhere else to go. We’re keeping them safe, and ourselves safe, and we’ll keep looking for those who could benefit from the generations of knowledge and abilities we have. We’re protecting, not attacking or destroying. Between our new demonic additions and existing Watchers, everyone has tasks and times to do them. It’s more work than anyone anticipated, keeping everyone taken care of and fed, making sure the castle runs like it should. But so far everyone is happy. Everyone is safe. I sink down against the wall, feeling the cold of the stone radiating outward. The unpellis demon, all four gentle eyes soft and brown and hopeful, snuggles up to my side like a dog. It’s more animal than human in nature, nonverbal, and still recovering from its frequent de-skinning treatment in Sean’s demon-drug manufacturing scheme. I saved Pelly from that cellar. I didn’t save everyone, though. I wrap my arms around Pelly and close my eyes. Everything is exactly what we dreamed it could be. Except I feel Leo’s loss everywhere, and I miss my twin, Artemis, with a constant, physical ache. And, worst of all, with enough time after Tsip surprised me to calm down and remind my body there’s no danger … I still feel like killing something. 

_______________________________________________

And now for even better news...Chosen is on sale on January 7th!!! So go to wherever you buy your most anticipated reads and make sure Chosen is on your list. I will have a review of this one up **hopefully** within the next week or so.

[avaalons]

Chris Evans Fic: His Girls Episode 2 (Young and in Love Part 5)

Just be warned that the following deals with issues of postpartum depression.

All parts to this series:

Young & in Love

Part 1: Beard & Glasses & Pushed Back Hair

Part 2: At Some Point

Part 3: The Dogs Aren’t Allowed Upstairs

Part 4: His Girls Episode 1

Part 5: His Girls Episode 2

***

After settling Annie in her crib, Chris had checked on you and had found you starfish style on the bed, still wearing your dress with your heels on and your make up, but completely passed out on your back on top of the comforter. He had hoped that would be the case. His mind had been overflowing with questions when you stumbled into the family room but he also knew that it wasn’t the time to be starting something that was potentially going to lead to an argument. He’d wanted to gauge your reaction to him, and to Annie, and he’d been left feeling more than a little confused.

Approaching you, his socked footsteps muted by the thick carpet, he noticed how in sleep he felt like you were more the woman he knew. More vulnerable maybe, and with the mask gone, your brow was furrowed. Clearly, even the alcohol wasn’t dulling whatever was bothering you now that you were out cold.

‘What’s going on with you, baby girl?’ He whispered to himself defeatedly, feeling more than a little hopeless and powerless now that he had seen your strange demeanour with his own eyes. Chris realised that he’d half-hoped his mom had got it all wrong, but he too had felt like he was stood in a room with a stranger.

Nevertheless, he set about making you as comfortable as he could without disturbing you from sleep, starting with your feet. He undid the thin ankle straps of your shoes and slipped them off, massaging your soles slightly to stretch out your toes and stop the muscles from cramping after being at such a high gradient all evening before standing them up in a pair in the empty space on your side of the closet. Next was your jewellery, carefully and methodically he removed your bracelets, necklace and earrings, all of them pieces that he’d given you over the years either bought for special occasions or just because. Like the shoes, Chris returned the jewellery back to its place of belonging, finding some strange comfort in being able to do this, knowing that not everything in his life or his home was now a mystery to him.

Having decided that your dress could stay where it was as its loose swing design and thin material weren’t going to cause you too many problems, he retrieved the thickest, softest blanket he could find from the trunk at the end of the bed. Pulling it over you from your feet, he covered you up, only stilling his movements when you shifted towards him, rolling on to your side and pulling your knees up, curling inwardly on yourself. Confident that you were still fast asleep, he tucked the blanket around your form and slowly sank down to perch on the mattress next to you, in the cove you had created with your legs, running his fingers lightly over your forehead and stroking your hair out across the pillow.

There had always been so much love between you. He adored you, and you him, of that he had always been sure. He remembered how nervous you had been to tell him that you were pregnant and couldn’t help but wonder now if those nerves were less to do with telling him and more about having a baby in general. But if that was the case, you’d never let on during your pregnancy. Chris sat, wracking his memories of the last nine months, trying to find something that he might have simply overlooked at the time but that would easily explain all of this strangeness away. He came up empty.

Leaning forward slowly, he pressed a gentle kiss against your cheek and whispered against your skin, ‘Hi sweetheart - you’re right, I have missed you. I always have done and I always will, because I love you, you know I do, more than I can put into words. But this time I’ve come home and I still miss you, because I’ve not actually seen you yet. I don’t know what’s happened in the two weeks I’ve been gone, so you’re going to have to help me out a little here, okay?’

After sitting in silence for a few more moments, replaying the heartbreaking moment he watched the mother of his child not even acknowledge her own daughter and wondering how he was going to fix this, he rose wearily and padded to the bathroom for some painkillers and a glass of water before leaving them on the nightstand next to you, figuring you would need them in the morning.

Ensuring he had the monitor, he descended the stairs and moved through the house, checking the doors and windows were locked before letting Dodger out of the utility, who was excited to finally be reunited with his human.

‘Sorry bud, had some things I needed to take care of. You’ve been so patient, good boy.’

Chris ruffled his dog’s fur and rubbed his belly before indicating for him to follow him upstairs. In the nursery, Chris settled in the armchair again, Dodger curled up at his feet, calmed by the quiet breathing of his daughter. Glancing at his watch, it was still only half one in the morning, meaning it was half four in Boston and his mother would definitely be asleep. He’d call her in the morning and let her know he was back in LA to sort everything out. And he would. He had to, or he’d be failing as a father and as a partner.

***

For the second time, Chris awoke to cries. His eyes shot open to find Dodger startled from sleep and staring at the crib, his posture defensive, shortly followed by the door flying open and Helen scurrying into the room. Seeing Chris half out of his chair, she stopped and immediately apologised.

‘Sorry, Mr Evans, I didn’t realise… do you want me to take her?’ she gestured towards the crib with her head. She was dressed for the day so must have been up and about for a short while at least.

'Don’t worry Helen, I must have fallen asleep here last night. Please, call me Chris. I’ll see to Annie this morning, it’s nice to spend some time with her. Has it just been you around this morning?’

Helen nodded and made to back out of the room the way she came, 'I’ll go and make a start on prepping the milk.’

'Thanks Helen.’

Despite his reservations when his mom had told him about the hiring of a nanny, on first impressions he thought that Helen seemed a good choice. She was probably in her late fifties, seemed polite and efficient and like she knew what she was doing. He wondered idly if she had family of her own; she did have a sort of maternal air about her. She kind of reminded him of your mom, and maybe that’s why you had employed her. He also reminded himself to check that you’d had her sign an NDA, especially with everything that was going on at the moment. The last thing any of you needed was this all leaking to the press via an 'undisclosed source’. But, he mused wryly, it seemed unlikely that undisclosed sources were needed when you were out every night anyway. Please, please let you have been going to discrete places. The tabloids and magazines would not be friendly to a celebrity mom of a six week old being spotted out drinking and clubbing every night. Maybe it was time to get PR involved and do some preemptive damage limitation - as much as could be done anyway.

'Let’s get you fed and ready for the day, Miss Evans. It’s going to be a busy one.’

***

Chris had tried, over the preparations for Annie’s breakfast, to pump Helen for information, but there seemed to be a lot she wasn’t saying. That was a good sign of her ability to be discrete at least.

'She’s… done what she can. She has been very busy, with her work and the events she has to attend for networking, so she’s not had a lot of time really.’

'I believe you met my mother a few days ago?’

'Yes, Lisa - I hope you don’t mind, she told me to call her that - stayed for four days. She really dotes on little Annie, doesn’t she?’

Chris smiled at that, 'Yeah, that’s my mom. All these grandchildren but each one is just as special as the first for her. How were things while my mom was around?’

'Easier… I think. But I could tell that Lisa found it all a bit strange. She tried to get information out of me too,’ a knowing grin brightened Helen’s features, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, 'You’re very similar. Now, you should know I’m not in the habit of gossiping or talking behind someone’s back, especially when the topic of conversation is a new mother, but do understand that however you think she should be behaving at the moment, she is trying her very best. That 'best’ might only be acknowledging her baby and holding her a couple of times a day, but if she’s struggling already, then those couple of times will be the hardest thing she does in every twenty four hour period.’

Chris looked down at the cherubic bundle in his arms and couldn’t imagine having to force himself to hold her. He was at loss to imagine how this had happened - he’d had four weeks with both his girls before he’d had to leave and you’d seemed such a natural. The birth had been a little traumatic and drawn out but you’d both come through, safe and sound and had settled, seemingly, into a good routine. How things could have changed so dramatically in such a short space of time, Chris had no idea.

'Do you think there’s something wrong with her?’ Chris asked, somewhat reluctant to hear the answer.

Helen was silent for a moment, possible responses flashing across her face, thinking about how to respond to one of her employers who she had only met for the first time last night, and who was clearly frightened by what he had come home to. Except for the fact he was cradling his daughter, Helen thought he looked just like a scared little boy, not knowing how to proceed or what to do for the best, just trying to keep it together.

'I think… she’s a little overwhelmed and unsure about the mother version of herself. It’s really hard, a few weeks in, when the visitors have stopped, daddy goes back to work and the shock and adrenaline is wearing off, and you realise there’s no going back now, that you’re in charge of this tiny little life. I think she’s going to need you to be as patient and as understanding as you can be, even though you must be confused and frustrated.’

Chris inclined his head in acknowledgement.

'I thought everything was perfect. We’re a family, everything we’ve ever wanted, how can it not be perfect? I’d never felt happier, until I heard from my mom.’

'Perfection is hard thing to live up to, in my experience. Striving for perfection in all things can often do more harm than good. No parent is perfect, Chris.’

'You think she feels like I’ve put her under too much pressure?’

'I don’t know her, or you, well enough to say, but I’d be willing to bet everything I have that she’s putting herself under too pressure, with or without your contribution, as most new moms do. Everyone thinks you’re supposed to be the most happy, glowing, joy-filled person on earth when in reality, you’re running on two hours of sleep, can’t take a shower, can’t clean your house, are scared to go outside, and are basically used as a milk machine. And you’re supposed to instantly feel this incredible bond with the one reason for all of this. It’s a lot to take in.’

'But… look at this baby. She’s so beautiful and innocent. I look at her and feel nothing but love and affection. I just want to hold her all the time. I’d die for her, I’m pretty sure.’

Helen let out a short laugh at that, 'I know, but you men get it fairly easy. Your bodies don’t change beyond all recognition, your hormones don’t turn you into an emotional wreck, you didn’t have to push that little cutie out of you, and I can guarantee she didn’t feel so little when your girlfriend was squeezing her out. You get all the good stuff, and you get to go back to your normal life after a few weeks, while hers has changed forever.’

'I can’t agree with the last part. The rest I get, but my life has changed too. It won’t ever be the same. I might have gone back to my version of normal in terms of the work I was doing, but all I’m thinking about now while I’m there are my girls at home, wishing I was with them, hoping they’re okay, wondering what they’re doing without me.’

If Helen disagreed with that, she didn’t voice it, 'And you seem to have adjusted to that change very quickly and very well. It’s taking that new mother upstairs a little longer, that’s all.’

'Have you got children, Helen, if you don’t mind me asking?’

'Oh, mine are all grown up now. One lives out in New York, career girl, top of her field, and my son lives here in California with his wife and their five year old. A little boy, Jake,’ Helen spoke about them all with pride, quickly showing Chris a few snaps on her cell. They seemed like a stable, happy family and Chris hoped against hope that that was what his future looked like.

***

At around eleven am, Chris asked Helen to take Annie around the block in her stroller. He’d decided he was going to bite back his confusion and irritation and go as gently as possible with you. Clearly, you had not been adjusting to motherhood as well as you had appeared two weeks ago and Chris didn’t want to give you cause to shrink further into yourself or, worse, run.

So he crept into the bedroom, the space shrouded in darkness from the heavy curtains. You must have been dozing, rather than in a deep sleep, because your eyes flickered open as he entered and you made out the shape of him moving through the room.

'Morning sunshine, how are you feeling?’ Chris’ quiet, gravelly voice floated to you.

'Okay-ish, I think. It was a big networking event, you know how clients get when they’ve had a few double mixers,’ you winced as little as you sat up, the pounding in your head intensifying as you moved. Chris sat down on the bed and turned towards you, taking one of your hands in his, but said nothing.

'Thanks for the water and painkillers. I woke up about two hours ago I think and I took them then. Did you cover me up and stuff?’

'Yeah, didn’t want you to be cold. Your shoes and jewellery are all back where they belong.’

'Thanks,’ you said again, quietly, squeezing his hand slightly. 'It’s good to have you home. Why are you home by the way? You’re not due back for another two weeks.’

'I know, but I missed my girls and after speaking to my mom, I realised there were a few things you hadn’t told me in our phone conversations.’

You bristled at that, instantly on the defensive, pulling your hand out of his.

'Your mom?’ you rolled your eyes, unable to stop the reflexive action, 'She told you what a shitshow of a mother I am, I guess?’

'Hey, don’t be like that. She was worried for you, and I have to say, sweetheart, when I heard you gone back to work and hired a live-in nanny without even mentioning it to me in passing, let alone having a discussion about it, I was worried too,’ Chris kept his voice level. He almost said 'Annie’s only six weeks old’ but he didn’t want to sound accusatory, 'Why didn’t you tell me?’

'Precisely because I didn’t want you to worry. I should have known Lisa would pull something like this. Have you racing across the country because your inadequate girlfriend can’t look after your kid,’ you pulled your hand away when Chris tried to reach for it again and pulled the blanket back so you could swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up, 'I thought she’d be happy to see I’d hired someone to look after the baby. Someone much more qualified than me anyhow. I’m taking a shower.’

You spat out the last couple of sentences and stomped to the bathroom. You heard Chris call out after you, more insisting that that wasn’t what he or his mom meant, but you’d shut the door and blocked him out. You switched the shower to the hottest setting, ragged your dress over your head and threw it in a scrunched ball across the bathroom, watching in irritation as it dropped to the floor harmlessly. Leaning on the counter, you looked up to reluctantly gaze at your reflection in the mirror and saw what an absolute mess you looked.

You were pale and pinched under the make up, your dark eyeliner smudged far from where it had been applied. Your lipstick had been smeared off as you slept, leaving a lurid outline of oily colour staining your dry, cracked lips. Your eyes went downwards without your permission, forcing you to look at your swollen, uncomfortable breasts, your rounded hips and the wobbly pouch of a stomach that had once been flat and toned, crisscrossed with violent red lines.

As you looked at it all, the reminder of what you had been through, you felt the fear rising in you. The memories of giving birth came crashing upon you before you could stop them: memories of the blood, of the pain, of seeing implement after implement disappearing between your legs, of hearing the shouts and commands, of seeing strangers faces gathered around, of not being able to breathe or speak or scream, of being unable to focus on Chris’ face, of not knowing where he was, of genuinely feeling like you were going to die. You felt every single one, didn’t even try to fight them because you knew it was useless.

You simply reached over to the shower controls and turned the power up to full, the water now blasting in jets out of the shower head. You figured the noise of it against the tiles would be loud enough that Chris wouldn’t hear your heaving sobs, and hopefully the heat and the piercing jets against your back as you sat in the bottom of the shower with your arms around your knees would be enough to distract your mind from the visions. Hopefully for long enough that you could get yourself together before going out to face him again.