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the-siren-and-the-sailor · 3 years

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Part One of a story I'm working on with Daphne and Leonora! There will probably be three parts. This is the story of how they split up and found each other again. It also deals with the Apollyons rather than the Interlopers this time.

Tag List: @kissthe-gogoat @caloroso-cosmos Let me know if you want to be added or taken off!

“Leo, stop!” A young Daphne shrieked and giggled as she was pelted with berries.

“Say it! Say that I’m the prettiest, you know I am,” Leonora giggled back from atop her perch in the tree.

Daphne playfully stuck her tongue out at her sister, bobbing in the pond below. “I’d never. And you won’t be saying that after this!” And with that she slipped below the algae covered water.

Leonora watched in amusement, waiting for Daphne to realize. The mergirl tried, and tried some more, but the tail she wanted never appeared.

“It doesn’t work in freshwater, you dummy!” Leo called.

Daphne surfaced, flicking her hair and accidentally slapping her face with it. “Well how was I supposed to know that, wench!”

“Oh, Daphne, don’t say words like that!”

“Oh what’s it matter? We’re not supposed to call each other these nicknames, either- yet here we are!” she laughed.

Leonora paused, a stricken look crossing her face. “Yes… We should probably go back, mother would be furious if she found out we were here.”

Daphne groaned. “Leo, chill out, would you?”

“And we need to stop using the names, too.”

“Leonora-“

“My name isn’t Leonora!”

Daphne recoiled, frustration rising. “You go, I don’t want to.”

Leonora put a hand to the back of her neck, brushing over the gem embedded there and causing it to glow a brilliant emerald.

“Leo, stop it! Please!” Daphne cried, panicking as her own gem flashed sapphire.

“Stop calling me that! I hate it when you call me that!” she snapped back, the scenery around them twisting and bending until they now stood in their mother’s starry hall.

And there she sat, Iýa, in all her shining regality. The look on her face was hard to see through its concentrated starlight, but both sisters knew it must have been twisted with disdain.

“Goofing off again, it seems,” her voice doubled and echoed all around the two, like a terrible chorus. “Have I taught you nothing?”

The princess tried her usual tactics. “Mother, you are an excellent teacher, I implore you, show-”

Iýa cut her off. “Princess Lisianthus, you are meant to be studying to be a leader. And Delphinium, you are supposed to follow behind.”

The princess bowed her head and stepped back. The lady-in-waiting, however, was starting to bubble over. How tired she was of this rubbish treatment…!

“So I’m, what, the backup then?”

“You will speak only with permission, of which you currently have none.”

“I don't need anyone's permission to speak but my own. You said you loved us both, and yet here you are acting like a tyrant.”

“Hold your tongue, Delphinium,” she sneered.

“And that’s another thing! You don’t even have the decency to call us by the names we choose. Instead you force us into these positions which we both do not want.”

Lisianthus was desperately shaking her head, Iýa glaring at her through gritted teeth.

“There is so much more life in the ocean and beyond it, yet despite it being my nature to be there, you-”

“I said silence! Both of you are to stay in the Library studying from now on. I don’t want a peep more!”

“Come on, Delphinium, let’s just go.”

Daphne only went for the sake of the opportunity to be away from Iýa. Perhaps her outburst was a mistake, but she was starting to consider it a mistake to stay. And so, perhaps her dear mother was right. Maybe some studying was in order, after all.

~*~

Lisianthus sat scribbling notes, placidly reading only the appropriate materials.

Daphne took a much more frantic approach. If the Library was truly infinite, then there must be knowledge from the people across the ocean somewhere. As could be knowledge of how to get to them.

“You’re not to be discovering those,” Lisianthus said quietly as Daphne thumped a pile of scrolls down on the desk.

“Shush, you. I’ve been following this one for months- it seems to be a journal of some kind. But I can’t read the characters, they’re so forgeign.”

“So put them back!” she hissed.

Daphne instead ignored her, unraveling the parchment. “Such an inefficient way to write,” she mumbled. A passage at the bottom of the page caught her attention. A smaller, more practiced handwriting, a cipher of sorts. Translating their own to a different language. Daphne took out her own translation key. Yes, it matched with one she had!

She spent hours pouring it over, slowly learning the scroll’s language by cross-referencing to the ones she already knew.

They told of a city-state, by a queen who claimed ownership of an empire built on slavery and blood magic. And by the looks of it, Daphne had an idea of where this empire may be.

Snatching her cloak, Daphne looked for a Way to lead her there. Finally!

“Don’t do it, Delphinium! Those people will use you and throw you away like garbage!”

“I have to learn more. I can’t go on here- I need to see the world for myself.”

“You’ll be killed. If not by mother, then by them. You need protection!”

A devilish smirk graced Daphne’s face. “Then by all means, come with me, sister.”

Lisianthus hesitated. Daphne thought she may actually be considering. That was until the gems glowed once more. Iýa was watching. And that was never a good sign.

The mother goddess tore into her, cursing her to never step foot in the Library again, to never see the ocean even one more time.

What was more, she was stripped of her tail, her glow, even her ways of bending the water. She would only have her abilities returned to her if it was ever required that she take the throne. But if her sister was immortal, who's to say that would ever be necessary?

Daphne left her nightsky hall in tatters and tears not an hour later. Fleeing to her room, now forever barred from the places she loved most. She should’ve know something like would’ve happened, and yet she was stupid enough to, to…!

There was nothing she could do. It would take a miracle to get her out of this.

A feeble tapping sounded from her door. Lisianthus, no doubt. Daphne let out another sob and her sister opened the door.

“Come to gloat?” she choked out.

“Not at all! I wanted to apologize…”

“What for? Tapping your gem so Iýa would find me out?”

Lisianthus sat down on the bed next to Daphne. The mergirl, now without her prized scales and instead a pair of dry and dull legs, couldn’t even bring herself to call the goddess ‘mother.’

“She can activate them as she pleases. You know that.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Daphne mumbled, going back to wetting her pillow with tears.

Lisianthus continued to watch her sister. She risked a peak into her mind, only to find it full of the unrecognizable script of the scroll found earlier.

“You truly love the ocean, even though Mother has forbidden it of you many times. And you have a thirst to learn about that which is beyond it, even though your place is behind me.

“Thanks for the reminder,” Daphne snipped. The more she cried, the drier she got. That couldn’t be good. Her hair was going from blue to silver to white all too fast.

“...Does it make you not want to live?” She already knew that answer, she had seen into her sister’s mind, but she wanted to hear it.

“No.”

Well, that didn’t help. The princess was after a reason. The only thing in Daphne’s head was more of that bloody script!

Lisianthus sniffed. “Fine! I was trying to help, but you obviously don’t give a damn. Stay here and rot if it so suits you!”

Daphne sat up as Lisianthus stood. “Read my mind like you always do, you horrible sister! Then maybe you’d bother with a shred of encouragement!”

Lisianthus, sighing, and eager now to avoid argument, did as her sister told. At last, a translation!

It was from the perspective of a young slave, rightfully unsatisfied with their life.Taking to parchment, they wrote the ways of a god they believed would save them. Pillars of sorts, core beliefs- those of determination, strength, and will. Plans of escape.

But the plans were not the writer’s, they were Daphne’s.

“Why escape through death when I can simply escape through the waterways?”

“Delphinium, no! Mother would find you, she’d-”

“I know what she would do! I can’t stand it anymore than I can stand how you act like her doting lap dog, always taking orders with your head bowed, like you don’t hate this as much as I do!”

Lisianthus recoiled at her sister’s outburst. “I don’t do that…”

“Oh yes, you do. Iýa continues to try and turn us into dolls, useful chess pieces for her to control. And you go along with it, encourage it! You’re as much to blame for this entrapment as she!”

“I don’t want this-!”

“So act like it, coward! Say something for once in your pathetic life!”

“My life is the one that’s pathetic? Look at you! Dramatic, a compulsive liar, and a selfish prick at every turn! Have you ever told the truth once in your life? Ever done something for others?”

“I can’t because she’s always putting you first! I have no opportunities to do anything worthwhile because she’s too busy with you! And when she’s not, she’s beating me down!”

“I have my own problems to tend to- don’t try and saddle me with yours! And perhaps you’re the coward for not doing anything!”

Daphne fell into a venomous silence. Lisianthus feared what a taste of her thoughts might reveal.

“Fine. Then watch me do something.” Daphne began to gather a few things; a cloak, a moonstone. A satchel full of paper and charcoal pencils.

“Delphinium, please, no, I didn’t mean it…”

“My name is Daphne.”

And with that, and the last of her water, she liquified and drizzled down under the door frame.

Lisianthus flung it open. “No, please, please stay! I didn’t mean it!”

Her sister was nowhere in sight. That form was so painful for her to take, now that the curse was setting in- if she didn’t get to water quickly it’d kill her. Lisianthus fell to her knees, begging and crying after the last place she’d seen her. But she was not seen again.

#writing #my writing #📝 written in the history books 📜

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james-bucky-barnackle · 5 years

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Two Night Stand (Part 12)

Synopsis: (AU) You found yourself at a club drinking away to forget about the stress of your shitty job as the assistant of the biggest Editor in New York, and end up hooking up with the man of your dreams only to wake up to a nightmare when you find out he’s the son of your boss.

PART 11 | 2NS Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1,162

A/N: I’m back, and it’s short, I’m sorry! I’m rereading all the chapters and studying them so I make any unnecessary plot holes. It’s been a while since I’ve updated it. Thank you to everyone who’s read it and is reading it!

“You’re kidding me,” I stare at Pietro who’s pulled all of us to the fire exit. He’s wearing a face mask covering the bottom half of his face. “You’ll get caught.”

“I won’t, it’s like you don’t even know me.” He fixes himself, stretching his arms, and jumping up and down.

“You still remember your way around… right?” Wanda asks, reminding both of us that it’s been years since Pietro stayed here, and although he’s fast, he’s not exactly good with directions.

“How hard can it be? It’s just a bunch of streets…” he slows down, realizing his weakness, “with buildings that look the same.”

“You sure this will work, right?” Bucky interrupts.

“Of course, JB.” He snaps his neck side to side, and smirks. “Unless you want the most obvious choice.”

“No one’s fake dating, Y/N!” Bucky snaps. My eyes grow wide as Wanda and I look at each other, snickering. Bucky grabs my hand and rubs his thumb. “Sorry, didn’t mean to shout. Just no more fake dating, god this is exhausting.”

“Whatever you say, JB.” Pietro replies. “You guys ready?”

“Uhm, errr. What other choice do we have?”

“I need to get to school! Today’s the bake sale!”

“Let’s get to our positions!” Pietro mimics military commands as Bucky shakes his head clearly unamused. He kisses my forehead before he makes his way towards the window by the fire exit. I’ve put on a gray hoodie and some sunglasses on, and nod towards the door. Pietro opens the door for me and I make my way down the stairs. I see a couple of teens with their cameras up and I lower my head. What the hell? I might need a new apartment… if only I could afford it. Pietro closes the door behind me and proceeds with part two. I slowly make my way down the stairs and Nick is nowhere to be found. Thank God.

I peep through the glass by the door and see the sea of cameras flashing in broad daylight. Okay, it’s time. By now, Wanda has positioned herself by the window, and should open the blinds just enough so that the paparazzi will look up. Bucky will have run out the balcony stairs and hopefully has gone out safely. Pietro on the other hand, Pietro… He would’ve already started preparing for his act.

“New York City! Have you ever seen the fastest man in the world run?” Pietro shouts running to the paparazzi and pausing in front of them to jog in place, Wanda takes this as her cue and opens the blinds up my bed room.

“She’s opening her window!” One of the media person shouts. Everyone whips their heads up and this is my time to exit the apartment. I hear loud snapping, screams of my name telling Wanda to look at the camera and show her face. I walk like I’m in a walkathon.

“Buddy, can you move?!” One of the guys shove Pietro, failing miserably.

“Move over!” someone else shouts. By then, phase two would begin.

“What are you doing?”

“What is he doing?”

Oh my god, this is phase two?! Pietro starts kicking off his shoes, I bite my lip looking at him from the next block behind a tree. He then pulls his sweater over, then his shirt. By this time, Bucky should be getting down the fire exit stairs. I look at my phone, anxious if I should check on him when I hear one of the paparazzi’s shout.

“Hey! Give me that!” Pietro has run off, naked, with three cameras in hand, the rest talking photos of his butt naked body running in broad daylight. Good morning to everyone, I guess.

I hug the bottom of my sleeves tight and start walking away, Wanda will have to get out on her own, her red hair will be enough for the paparazzi to give up. I hope the paparazzi doesn’t see or recognize her to be my roommate in my Instagram posts. Gosh this is such a mess. Now, I have to drop by the office wardrobe to change into something more decent and I haven’t even showered. I wonder if Bucky got out okay.

“Y/L/N!” I hear my name called, I look around and see a black Subaru slow down by the street. I pull my hoodie, how smart are these photo hogging – “it’s Steve! Get in!” What? I peep down my sunglasses and I see his blue eyes through the small crack in his window. He waves me over and I quickly get in.

“Hey! How did you-“ I get cut off, “Bucky!”

“I texted him as soon as the whole thing started.” I hug him tight, almost leap into his lap… oh who am I kidding, I leaped hard into his lap.

“This is Peggy,” Steve continues, and my cheeks heat up. “Peggy, this is Y/N.” I loosen my arm around Bucky, embarrassed at my sudden outburst, but he pulls me closer and buries his head in my neck.

“oof! Hi Peggy.” I say, feeling Bucky’s breath on my skin. He’s obviously still sleepy, as am I to be honest.

“Huge crowd you guys have.” Peggy says, and I shrug.

“Might have to move into a new apartment after this, change my name, hair, get a nose job maybe?”

“Shhhh.” Bucky nuzzles into me, pulling me closer.

“You can stay in my hotel for the time being.” Peggy offers and I’m very flattered but confused. She doesn’t even know me, I don’t even know her. Although this has become a general concern, I am not about to bombard her with my issues.

“She’ll stay in mine.” Bucky pulls away and straightens.

“Uhm, I don’t think that’s smart.”

“Y/N’s right, Buck.” Steve laughs.

“What do you suggest?”

“Peggy’s would be smart.”

“I’m thankful for the offer but I’ll have to pass, I’m sure you’ll miss your privacy. I’ll find somewhere to crash in later.” I’m already making a mental note to ask Nat. The list of things I owe her has been piling up.

__________________________________________________________

So much for coming to work early and “borrowing” clothes from the wardrobe department, Peggy has let me borrow one of her free-sized dresses. These look uhm, too posh for my taste, but it’ll have to do considering I even had the opportunity of showering before heading to the office. The moment I get to the office I’m already scrolling through memos and things that needed to be done today when Peter rushes to my side with his iPad.

“Have you seen this, Ms. Y/N?!”

“What?” I get a closer look at the image he’s showing me, “Oh god.”

It’s a photo of me and Thor, beside a photo of Bucky and the girl in the orange camisole, with a cut out of Dolores’ candid, doodled on with “oops.”

I read the title saying, “Dolores Wang or Y/N Y/L/N? Who really is she?” I think I’m going to faint.

____________________________________________________________

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etherealwaifgoddess · 5 years

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Friday Night Tradition (a What He Wants AU short)

Main Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s first week at work with you comes to an end and you establish a sweet Friday night tradition. Set in the AU of What He Wants, which you can read HERE if you missed it.

Warnings/ Content: Primarily sweet fluff but there is implied smut and reference to a panic attack (not Bucky’s for once!)

Word Count: 1348

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! We’re back in the What He Wants AU :) I am so excited to start sharing a few little shorts with you all now that I’m back from vacation. I spent the past week on a beach just chilling, drinking, and letting my mind live in this little AU I created. I got this first piece scrubbed finally (sorry I’m a procrastinator!) and hope you all enjoy diving back in where we left off. Also, for the tag list peeps: I’m tagging all the original WHW tag list, if any of you want removed, or if anyone new wants to be added, just let me know.

XOXO - Ash

Friday Night Tradition

“What a week.” Bucky groans as he flops down on your bed. It’s barely seven o’clock on Friday night and he looks like he’s ready to pass out.

Everyone at the therapy center had been so happy for your return and they welcomed Bucky with open arms. It had still been a long week though. You were getting caught up on everything you had missed and the new patients who you had yet to meet while Bucky was slowly finding his place. He was eager to help out and his efforts were appreciated by everyone. Bucky was surprisingly adept with a tool kit and put himself to work without being asked, repairing little odds and ends that no one else had the time or knowledge to fix. He liked to stay busy and the small jobs made him feel like he’d really accomplished something by the end of the day.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him lying on the bed, concerned you’ve pushed him too far, too fast. “You were amazing, babe, really. I don’t think we would have had as much success with Brighton if you hadn’t been there.”

Josh Brighton is a 21 year old vet who had lost his right leg in a land mine explosion eight months ago. He’s still getting used to his new prosthetic and suffering from PTSD, depression, and crippling anxiety. Josh had been a VA referral to the center and they had just started working with him the previous month. Earlier that morning he’d had an episode when a chair Bucky was repairing slipped and crashed hard on the tile floor. The sound had triggered something in Brighton, causing him to throw his own chair and pull a table back into a corner to shield himself from some unknown assailant. The counselors had come running but Bucky held a hand out, stopping them. He knew from painful experience what the younger man was going through and had talked him through the episode with soft, measured, tones, repeating his name, the date, where he was, and that he was okay. After a few minutes Bucky had helped Brighton up and they took a long walk around the grounds until it was time for his appointment. During his session Brighton had openly spoken about his triggers for the first time and the therapist called the progress he’d made remarkable.

Bucky nods and sighs hard, remembering the anguish in the younger man’s eyes when he had gotten past the blind fear and realized he’d had another panic attack. Bucky is thankful he was there to help him but knows it’s going to be a long recovery process and he hopes that Brighton takes his advice and comes a little early next week to walk with him again. Bucky rubs his right hand across his forehead like he’s fighting back a headache. “He’s a good man, he just needed a little space to get back to himself.”

“Yeah, and you recognized that.” You climb onto the bed next to him, wrapping your body against his and pressing a kiss against the cool metal of his left bicep. “I know it was a lot, especially for your first week, so if you want to take a long weekend we can. Or if you think you might want to start out part time and drop down to two or three days a week that would be okay too. Just tell me what you want, Buck.”

Bucky opens his eyes and rolls so his body is pressed up against yours, wrapping his right arm tightly around your waist. “What I want is to stay right here in this bed with you for a little bit longer, order some delicious, greasy, Chinese food, and watch that new Disney movie with the blonde chick and the snowman.”

“Frozen isn’t considered new anymore.” You chuckle.

“Hey, I remember when Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs came out. As far as I’m concerned, anything after Bambi is new to me.”

“I forget sometimes that you’re just a little old man.” You tease him lightly.

“Oh come on, I’m only a hundred and six.”

“And you look damn good for your age.” You plant a kiss on his forehead and then wiggle to pull your phone out of your back pocket without moving out of his embrace. Bringing up the menu for your favorite Chinese place you scroll through the options hunting down your favorites. Your wiggling had some unexpected consequences however and Bucky grinds his hips against yours, pressing his hardness against your hip.

“Hey, mouse.” He whispers against your shoulder, “I thought of something I want more than dinner.” He rolls his hips again, pressing as firmly as he can against you.

You roll your eyes and turn off your phone, knowing exactly what he’s doing. You can’t really be annoyed with him though, he’s been so much better about telling you what he wants and asking for things. Every little request is progress; Bucky taking control of his life and no longer being bound by circumstances beyond his control. You watch the mischievous glint in his eyes as you ask, “And what, James Buchanan Barnes, do you think you want now?” You bite the inside of your cheek trying not to smile.

Bucky’s lips curve upwards in amusement. “You know what I want.” He captures your hand in his, pulling it close and pressing it against his chest so you can feel his heart beating wildly.

“I don’t think I do.” You’re smirking now, unable to help yourself.

“It’s what I always want.” Bucky hisses out a breath as you push your hips back against his when he rolls them again.

“And what is that?” You’re all but panting now, ready to end the silly game you’ve started.

“You.” Bucky crushes his lips down on yours at last, pulling you impossibly close, and then running his right hand up your shirt. “It’s always you.” He says while he trails kisses down your throat. “From the minute I wake up to the minute I fall asleep, and in every dream. It’s always you.”

You moan, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Your body ignited by his words and the feel of his lips against your skin. The plans for Chinese food and a Disney movie are quickly forgotten as your clothing is tossed the floor and you discover that Bucky’s way of unwinding after a long week is exactly what you needed too.

Hours later when you’re sprawled out across your large bed, breathing heavily, limbs tangled together, Bucky remembers he’d had other plans for the night and pulls up the menu for your favorite Chinese place on his phone. He calls in an obscene amount of food and grumbles when he discovers Frozen is no longer on any of your streaming services. He finally settles on Moana right as the food arrives and you curl up with him to eat dinner on the sofa. Bucky looks inexplicably happy perched on “his” end of the sofa, sitting with his legs crossed under him, sex-mussed hair falling around his shoulders, and a ridiculous plate of Chinese food on his lap. “What’s up, doll?” He asks after he swallows his giant bite of crab rangoon.

“You seem happy.” You say honestly.

It catches him off guard and he pauses for a moment to think over your words before responding. “I am. I think I like working at the center. Especially if we get to do this every Friday night and then have a whole weekend to be lazy.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

And just like that your Friday night tradition is established. It doesn’t matter if it was a good week or a bad one, every Friday night you head straight home from work to relax for a bit, order take out, and find a different Disney movie to watch. It’s quiet and simple, exactly what you want in your life, and you’re forever grateful that it’s what he wants too.

Tag List Lovelies: @my-current-fandom-is @blacklightguidesnic @amazonianbeauty@ladyemofhousestark@abswritesfandoms@rupestria @dark-night-sky-99

#Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #Winter Soldier #marvel #Marvel Avengers #marvel fanfic #Marvel fangirl #MARVEL FANDOM #what he wants

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legitlaur · 6 years

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Golden Hour // p.p

Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Cheesy, awkward social encounters, the occasional swears, not edited (very well)

Summary: You didn’t think having a photography class with Peter Parker would be of any significance to your life, that is until you were with him at Golden Hour.

You checked the room number one last time, and shoved your phone in your back pocket. Adjusting your backpack, you walk into your last and hopefully favorite class. Photography.

The classroom was average sized, with big windows letting in lots of natural light. There were rows of computers, with a backdrop in the corner. Looking around to find a friend or an empty seat, you noticed everyone else squinting at the whiteboard. You turned your attention to the board and smiled when you saw a seating chart projected on the screen. Your name and horrendous school picture was somewhere in the middle row, near the end. You squeezed past people as you tried to walk through the tight row. You finally found your seat, and carefully sat down.

You pulled out your phone and saw a text from Mimi. She was sitting by George, her crush in physics. You told her to flirt her way into his heart.

“Um, excuse me. I think, I think you’re in my seat.” A shy voice whispered.

You turned around and saw a nervous Peter Parker. He had on another one of this nerdy graphic t shirts.

“Oh, you sure? I think this one is mine.” You assure him.

Tightening the grip on his backpack, Peter nodded, “Positive,” he pointed to your name then counted the seats until he reached the computer next to you, “Looks like you were off by one.”

You nodded, grabbed your bag and slid into the correct seat, “Sorry about that Peter.”

He smiled, “It's, its. No worries y/n.”

You leaned back in the swirly chair waiting for your teacher to go over announcements and the disclosure. She was waiting at the door, greeting students, when the bell rang she shut the door and began the lecture. She went over the basics, class fees, procedures, expectations, and rules. You sat patiently waiting for her to finish and get on with the assignment. As you drifted in and out of listening you heard her say the worst three words a teacher can say.

“Let's introduce ourselves,” She clapped her hands together.

In unison the class groaned, “Now now, this is the easiest way for me to remember your names. I’ll go first, my name is Ms. Hewitt.”

Going around the room, each student stood up, said their name, and why they took the class. As it got closer and closer to you your stomach tightened.

“My name is y/n y/l/n, I took this class because I like taking photos. I also thought it’ll be a nice change from all my ap english and humanities classes,” You sat down and hid your red face.

“Hi, um I’m Parker Peter. No no I mean Peter,” He took a deep breath, “Sorry. My name is Peter Parker. I took this class because my boss said I’d get a raise if I take some photography classes.” He plopped back into his seat.

“You have a job? Where at?” You whispered.

Peter shrugged, “I freelance,” when he say your confused face he continued, “I take photos for the Daily Bugle. They won’t give me a staff job so I freelance.”

“What kind of photos?” You nudged him on.

He looks around, and hesitates.

“Come on Peter,” You urged him.

“Spiderman.” He mumbled.

“You take photos of Spiderman? Dude that’s sick. Wait? How do you take photos of him? Do you have any I can see?” You rambled.

“Sshh, yeah. Um, keep it quiet.” He turned away and pulled out his phone.

Somehow you’d been rejected by Peter Parker, the nerdiest kid at Midtown. You turned your attention back to the teacher, who was introducing herself as a feminist and a dog lover.

A few minutes later Peter handed you his busted up phone, “Here.”

You took the phone and started scrolling through the news article, once you got to the bottom you saw a photo of Spiderman. He was swinging through the city.

You looked up from the phone and stared at Peter, “Holy crap. These are amazing, do you have a portfolio?”

“Peter, y/n would you care to join the rest of the class? Or would you rather continue your conversation in the hallway?” The teacher called out.

“We’ll join the class,” You peeped.

You looked at Peter whose face was carefree moments ago, it was now full of anxiety and red.

“Now for the next month or so you will be put in a partnership. Every assignment will need to be done together. This will help with your creativity and help you learn new perspectives,” Ms. Hewitt began again.

“Do we get to pick our partners?” A girl in the front asked.

Ms. Hewitt shook her head, “No, partnerships will be the person next to you. Computers one and two, three and four, four and five. You get the point.”

You looked at the corner of your computer, number 15. You looked over at Peters he was number 16.

You smiled knowing you’d be able to take photos of Spiderman.

“So I guess we’re gonna be partners.” Peter muttered.

“Yeah. I’ve got a pretty full schedule so wanna give me your phone number? So we can figure stuff out,” You pulled out your phone.

“Sure,” He pulled out his phone, you texted yourself on his.

“Okay got it,” You started packing your stuff up once you realized the bell was going to ring. You noticed Peter already had his backpack on and was standing.

“So I was wondering if yo-” The bell interrupted you.

Peter ran past you like you were invisible. You were pretty bummed, he had some really cool photos you wanted to ask him about.

You texted Mimi that you weren't in the mood to socialize, popped in an earbud and headed for the subway.

Swiping your metrocard you breathed in musty New York air. The school wasn’t walking distance, but only a few subway stops away from your apartment.

You stood waiting for the train, they were never on time. When the train finally came into sight; you pushed through the crowd, trying to get into the front. Once it stopped the doors slid open, you ran in hoping to get a seat. With the subway it's a hit and miss. If you go at a bad time there's no seats, right before and right after school are always bad times. Lots of parents picking up their kids, kids trying to get home, tourists, then there's always those few randoms that no one understands.

Being the first day of school your mother forced you into a skirt. Standing on the subway would be a risky move. Fighting through the people you found an empty seat.

“Hey y/n.”

You quickly looked up and realized the horrible mistake you’d made.

“Flash Thompson? How could someone like you be riding the subway?” You sarcastically asked.

He looked at you slowly, starting from your head his eyes followed your body to your feet. Licking his lips he answered, “Spiderman needed to borrow my car, he busted it up. The whole side was scraped up, my dad won’t let me drive it anymore.”

“You know Spiderman too?”

He looked flustered, “You know Spiderman?”

“No,” you smiled, “but Peter Parker does. He takes photos of him for the Daily Bugle.”

Flash laughed, “Don’t tell me you believe that piece of crap.”

You stood up, “As a matter of fact I do believe Peter Parker,” You leaned in closer to Flashes stunned face, “I believe the smartest kid at Midtown, and you should too,” You stomped off in rage.

As you traversed across the moving train you reached for a pole, when the train came to an abrupt stop. Your body flung backwards; nearly falling on your butt, you landed in someone's arms instead.

Please don’t be Flash

You looked up and realized it wasn’t. You were in the arms of a stranger. A stranger with long, beachy, and blonde hair. You looked into his deep blue eyes as he tightened his grip.

“Careful,” He laughed.

You blushed, “Sorry about that.”

He got you stable, “No need to apologize. It’s not everyday you catch a pretty girl on the subway.”

You look down at your feet, “Umm, thanks.”

“I’m Jonah, by the way.” He stuck out his hand.

You shook it firmly, noting the veins popping out.

“This is the part where you tell me your name, and hopefully your number.” He smirked.

You nod ferociously, “Right. Sorry. I’m y/n,” you exchange phones, “He-crap. This is my stop, gonna go. See ya Jonah.”

You slipped out the closing doors, and caught your breath.

The train started again, leaving you in a crowded subway station. You looked down at your phone and realized it wasn’t your phone.

Looking at the Iphone X in your hand you scream, “Shit!”

You had Jonah’s phone.

TO BE CONTINUED

tag list: @victorianfatmycroft

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blackcroweamon · 7 years

Text

Black Crow- Part 1: Angel of Death

Hey. It’s been a while since I was on this blog. I just didn’t have the motivation to continue with Eamon and I just went on what could’ve been a permanent hiatus for him.

Yet, I found myself starting to miss him and, eventually, I decided to go back and write about him again. This might turn into an ongoing series, but I won’t make any promises like I did before.

Other than that, I hope you like it ^^.

(Side note: If there’s any suggestions on how I can improve on this, let me know)

I wonder how long I’ve been doing this? Walking through life, putting on an act by day, and peeling back the layers by night. It gets tiring, but somehow, I’ve managed to get through it all.

After a few moments, I turned off the faucet, allowing my face to simply float in the water for a moment before stepping back. My reflection hasn’t gotten any better. I stared back at the person in the mirror; a pale-skin kid with green eyes and brown hair. Water dripping down from his disheveled hair and onto his face. The bags under his eyes made it clear that he’s gone several nights without sleep. Yet that was the life of Eamon Brown, the Black Crow.

“… Back to it then.”, I sighed.

I walked back over to my laptop on the bed. Nearby, the TV was still tuned in on the news. Recently, there hasn’t been any reports of crimes going around; causing me some problems. Not that no crimes weren’t good, but it was becoming difficult to meet my manager’s quota every month. I might have to start taking more visits to the nearby prison if I wanted to catch up.

Not that there was any rush to do so. I had already turn in my mask a few days ago for this month’s quota, but it was better to start on the next month’s quota rather than waiting for the last second.

After a moment of getting situated, I started to scroll through my messages and alerts, but it was just the usual. Notices for quota deadlines, concert schedules for next month, old updates on crimes, and messages from Horace, the Leghorn Chicken, regarding our training sessions. I clicked on the later, a smile creeping onto my face as I read it. It seems he wanted to meet with me tomorrow.

Training with Horace was probably one of the only two things I enjoy doing. He’s a bit eccentric and seems a bit foolish, but he’s a great mentor. He also seems to be the only one in the company to care about my wellbeing as well.

A loud beep shook me from my thoughts as I turned my attention the new alert that appeared on screen. It was a police report from New Haven street. The report seemed to mention an on-going hostage situation that was taking place in the abandon Aaron Company warehouse. Three armed thugs and a single hostage…

Quickly, I grabbed my hoodie and made my way toward the door, grabbing my mask as I went. Looks like another hunt for the Reaper…

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I arrived on the scene about ten minutes later. Already the warehouse was surrounded by a blockade of police cars and vans. Men and woman rushed around to position themselves; the dogs braying wildly as they tugged against their handlers’ leashes. Didn’t look like there would be anyway to get in and out without being spotted, but, if there was one good thing I can say about my manager, it was that he knew the right contacts.

As was expected, Officer Roy was waiting for me in a nearby alley. Even to this day I was uncertain what sort of ties he had to the company. Whether he was being bribed to help me or was secretly part of the company, I was never sure. Yet, every time I’ve gone after these cases or sneaked into the prisons, he was always there as the inside man.

After a few moments, he spotted me and waved with that disarming grin of his. You’d think he was a clean guy if you didn’t know anything about the Sirens.

“Was wondering when you’d show up.”, Roy said, extending his hand in greeting. After a few seconds of realizing that I wasn’t going to shake his hand, he shrugged. “Had to try every once in a while.”

“What’s the situation…”, I asked, allowing my annoyance to creep into my voice.

“… A couple of days ago, we got a tip on a new drug gang opening up shop near the Delta train station. Nothing major, just a few punks looking to make a quick buck, but, well, you know how it can escalate. Small time drug dealers are one thing, but it starts to become a problem if they get themselves organized.” He stepped back and leaned against the wall. “Anyway, we busted their operation, but a few of them managed to escape. They nab a bystander and barricaded themselves in the warehouse.”

I gave him a small nod and prompted, “Is there a way in?”

“Yea. There’s a ladder in this alley that can reach the roof top. From there, you’ll have yourself a thirty foot drop down onto the warehouse itself. Most guys might break their legs jumping down, but, well, I’m sure you got that covered.”

I touched my mask. “You could say that.”

“Figured as much. Though the problem will be the drug dealers themselves. Two of them are armed with pistols and they’re all paranoid. They hear even a peep and they’ll pull the trigger on the hostage.” He rubbed his face wearily, like a person that was about to ask something difficult. “I know who you guys are, but... I ask that-“

I place a hand on him, cutting him off. “I won’t let them kill the hostage.”

I understood what he meant. The company I work for doesn’t just take the lives of a single group. They go after everyone. Young, old, innocent, or corrupted. It didn’t matter. All that mattered to the company was taking the life force of others.

A look of relief passes over his face. “Oh… good. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it.” I moved back. “Now… show me where this ladder is.”

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That was a pretty big drop.

I felt my stomach quiver when I peeked over the edge. I wasn’t afraid of heights, I’ve been on the upper balconies at the company building before, but this was the first time that I was actually going to jump off and hope to land on the warehouse instead of the street floor a hundred feet below.

I took a few deep breathes to calm my nerves. It wasn’t as bad as I was making it out. I had a large margin for error so it wasn’t likely that I was going to miss the landing. Plus, I had my mask in my pocket.

Pulling it out now, I allowed myself a few seconds to look at it. It was quite the ornate piece of work. The mask was a mix of black and white with a black nose piece and gold outlines. Musical notes danced under the right eye socket. It looked like something you would find in an opera house, but it’s purpose was far more sinister.

Taking one last breath, I put the mask on. In the brief moment, a strange sensation overcame me, culminating onto my back. Flexing, my wings spread out to either side of me, the black feathers blending into the shadows around me.

Suddenly I felt calm; my body relaxing as I looked back over the edge. Truthfully, I never used my wings in this fashion before. Despite appearances, we couldn’t fly, but Horace had taught me how I could use them to glide. Though this would be the first time I’ve every tried it outside of a training session.

“No second thoughts now.”, I whispered, jumping off the edge. I allowed my wings to spread out parallel to me as I was taught and, for a moment, I feared that it wasn’t going to work. However, my wings soon took effect and I started to glide down onto the warehouse.

I stumbled as I landed; wincing in pain as I fell down onto my hands and knees. I turned my hands over and, sure enough, my palms were scraped. Could’ve been worse, I thought to myself as I stood up. Fortunately, it didn’t appear that anyone had noticed my sudden landing.

Carefully, I looked around for an entry into the warehouse and spotted a door. As I got closer to it though, it was apparent that it was boarded and locked on the other side. I slammed my fist into the door in frustration. All this effort and I can’t even get in.

I closed my eyes, furious, but then I froze. I could hear the sound of fluttering wings. Opening my eyes, I looked over my shoulder and spotted a crow perched on my wing. It’s beady, black eyes stared at me for a moment before flying past me into the side of the door. Curious, I walked around to the side and spotted a hole.

It wasn’t that big, but the wall itself seemed to be crumbling apart in certain spots. Seeing it as my best way in, I tore at the hole bit by bit until I had myself a hole big enough to crawl through if I removed my mask. I smiled slightly as the crow cawed at me. Seems like this wasn’t a waste of time after all.

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The voices were starting to get louder as I neared the bottom floor. Peering through a crack in a wall, I could make out a larger room. Crates and broken-down cars dotted the room. Overheard, support beams and walkways overlooked the room. A few windows shined into the room, but, otherwise, it was mostly dark. The two front doors outside were completely closed off by crates, but there appeared to be a side entrance that the thugs appeared to have left open if escape was necessary.

One of them, a nervous looking kid in ragged clothing, muttered, “David… what are we going to do? They have us surrounded.”

Out of sight, a gruff voice replied, “Shut up Daniel! We’ll be fine. They won’t be try anything while we have the hostage.”

“B-but what if-“

“Will you just chill?!” Another man in a hoodie walked into sight. “Don’t you think I want to be freaking out now? Just calm down and don’t worry so much. Ma told me to look after you and I’m not about to let my little bro get caught, ok?”

“O-ok Zack…”

The kid seemed to calm down as his body relax slightly. Though it was obvious that he was tense… and for good reason. It would be safe to leave him last when I start taking them out. However, first I needed to locate the hostage.

I quietly made my way onto one of the upper walkways and quickly spotted the hostage tied up and gagged against one of the pillars in the room. She appeared to be around my age; her black hair roughed up and her dark skin bruised from their mistreatment. Yet, her green eyes were alert and defiant as she stared at one to the other.

The last thug, a big guy in a white top and black pants, was looking out through one of the windows. As far as I could see, no one was paying any real attention to the hostage. Perhaps they were confident that she couldn’t escape or incompetent in general, but now was the perfect time to act.

Carefully, I climbed down onto the warehouse floor, making an effort to not make a sound, and carefully moved toward the girl. After a few seconds, her eyes widen as she made out my figure in the shadows, but she was smart enough to look away as one of the thugs, the hooded guy, Daniel, turned to her.

Time seemed to go by slowly as the thug checked her bindings. A small, irrational part of myself feared that they would hear my rapid heart beat as they drew close to me, but, eventually, the thug walked away.

I allowed a few more seconds to past before crawling up to her. Quickly and quietly, I undid her bindings, making sure to not make a sound as I worked. As she reached up to pulled away her gag, I grabbed her hand and whispered as quietly as possible, “Leave it on until you’re out of here. I need you to be as quiet as possible.”

I looked into her eyes to make sure she understood before removing the last of the bindings. Gently, I pushed her toward the side entrance, placing the crates between us and the thugs.

Perhaps some six-sense warned him or maybe we made a noise, but, suddenly, the big man turned around, shouting as he pulled out his pistol. Unconsciously, I pushed the girl aside as a burning sensation burrowed its way into my side.

I gasped as the pain wracked my body, but I ignored it and shoved the girl towards the door.

“Run! I’ll be right behind you.”, I lied.

She looked like she was about to stay and help, but, after looking into my eyes, she simply nodded and quickly ran through the door. Meanwhile, I crawled behind one of the nearby crates as the sound of the thugs’ footsteps came closer.

“Shit! She got away.”

“We need to get out of here! If they-“

“We can’t. They’ll be looking that way now that the hostage escaped.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We find the person who freed her. They’re still in here. I can feel it…”

As they talked, I had moved myself into one of the crates. I didn’t have a lot of time before they found me. Carefully, I took out my phone and shined the light on my wound. I stared at the wound as fresh waves of pain went through my body. This was the first time I’ve ever been shot and seeing wound made me feel sick. The bullet had gone clearly through my side and I knew I was losing blood fast.

I considered making a break through and try to escape, but an inner voice told me that I needed to take care of these guys first. They were criminals and they were willing to kill an innocent person for their own selfishness. They deserved to die.

Silently, I put on my mask as adrenaline started to kick in. I crawled out of my hiding spot a carefully walked around the crates. The thugs were spread out, peeking around cars and into crates. Without making a sound, I moved toward the big thug. As I got closer, the man turned around to face me, but it was too late. I quickly delivered a jab into his gut, causing him to bend over, before bring my elbow down on the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

The man’s groans quickly caught the other thugs’ attention as they ran over, but I already moved behind one of the cars.

Zack quickly looked around, clearly terrified as he shouted, “Where are you!?”

I stayed silent, which caused them to become more unsettled as they looked around. Carefully, I made my way around and, before Zack could react, I tackled Daniel and dragged him behind another stack of crates; choking him as we crawled behind a stack of pallets.

I could hear the few wild shots Zack had shot at me as I tackled his brother and, now, I could hear the terror in his voice as he searched through the crates. “Daniel! W-what did you do to him!”

As his brother’s struggles slowly came to a stop, I whispered, “Nothing… yet.”

Quickly, he turned to where he thought the voice was coming from, his gun raised. “Who the hell are you!?”

I crawled up behind him, a smile creeping into my voice as I simply said, “The Angel of Death.”

Before Zack could turn around, I flapped my wings and used them to propel me into Zack; elbowing him in the back of his head. His body crumpled onto the ground and I allowed myself a small sigh of relief as I observed my work.

“Now… onto business…”, I whispered as I started to sing.

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I stared at my reflection in the mirror and grimaced. My left side was bandaged heavily and my injuries was covered with enough gauze for several wounds. The landlord of the apartment complex wasn’t the type of person that took things in moderation, but at least he said I was going to be fine. Would’ve been a bit difficult to get admitted into a hospital and explain what happened. Not that my manager would’ve allowed me to go anyway. At least I was alive though. I suppose that’s all that matters. Sighing, I walked back out into the living room; the tv tuned to the news channel as they reported on last night’s incident.

“… the drug dealers were found dead on the site, but there were no signs of what caused their deaths. The hostage, Lisa Jones, told reporters that a male individual freed her and helped her escape the situation. When asked if she could identify the person in question, she said that he wore black clothing and a hoodie, but she was unable to make out his face. Whoever it may have been, we would like t-“

I turned off the tv with a sigh. I was afraid that she would’ve remembered my face. Fortunately, it seems my fears were unfounded. As I laid back on the couch to get some rest before meeting up with Horace, a knock suddenly came from the door. Great, I thought, and just when I was about to get some sleep.

Angrily, I stormed toward the door and swung it open.

“What is i- “I stopped, my eyes staring in disbelief as I found myself face to face with the same girl from last night. A wide grin broke out on her face when she saw me as she held out a CD of one of Tsuba’s latest hit songs.

“Hey! I never got the chance to thank you for last night. My name is Lisa and it’s nice to meet you!”

#eamon #blackcrow #emr #siren #story

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elrosiafic · 7 years

Text

Missing Half

In progress...more chapters to come...

George Weasley sat on his bed in the room he once shared with his twin brother, Fred. He looked over to the empty bed across from him, the blankets still rumpled as they’d been carelessly strewn aside the last time Fred had slept there. He felt a hollowness in his chest, an emptiness somehow so heavy he was pulled down with its weight. An intense pressure had built up behind his eyes from which the tears still would not fall.

George’s mind wandered back to the funeral that had taken place a few weeks ago. It had been a dismal affair. The morning had dawned with a soft blue, cloudless sky, the warm spring air and bright sunshine jarring unnaturally with his somber mood. In his mind, all was winter—full of sleet, snow, driving rains, icy winds, and piercing cold. But the mocking sunshine persisted all day.

George had stood and watched as his brother’s body was lowered into the ground, listening to the sobs of his siblings, the wails of his mother, but all he felt was numb. He moved through the ceremony mechanically. As he listened to the eulogy given by his father, the words added by friends and family, he stood by silently, unable to speak. He knew Fred deserved better, knew he should do something, say something, but he just couldn’t find the words. He stood beside his family as one by one, mourners passed through to offer their condolences, the empty words surrounding him like echoes from a far-off distance. He tried to force himself to respond, but could manage nothing more than a grunt or a nod.

Eventually they’d all gone back to the Burrow, the Weasley family along with their close friends. They ate and drank and talked about Fred, sharing memories and laughing through their tears, but George couldn’t bring himself to join in. He knew Fred would have wanted him to. Fred would have wanted this to be a celebration, a lively party full of the laughter and fun that he had been so full of throughout his life. But George couldn’t find that part of himself anymore. He felt as if all his laughter had died with Fred.

As the night wore on, the guests had begun to disperse. Somehow, he had felt even worse as the numbers dwindled down until he was surrounded mostly by family. Unable to stand the pitying looks in their eyes as they all tiptoed around him as though he were made of glass, he decided he needed to get out of there. Resisting all protests and pleas from his mother to stay, George had returned to his own flat above the joke shop in Diagon Alley. His own flat. The words sent a chill through his bones. It was no longer theirs.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, George dragged himself to his feet. Shuffling over to his dresser, he pulled out a few items of clothing and threw them on. Shoving his feet into a pair of beat up old shoes, he left the room and ambled down the hallway into the bathroom. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at his face in the mirror with a pained expression. Every morning he felt haunted by that image reflected back at him. He didn’t think he would ever be able to look at himself again without thinking of Fred. Bending over the sink, he rinsed out his mouth and straightened back up, staring at his reflection once more. After a moment, he pulled his wand out of his back pocket and aimed it at the face looking back at him. “Evanesco,” he muttered, vanishing the mirror. He sighed, wishing he could have vanished himself along with it.

George moved into the hallway and trudged down the staircase. Reaching the bottom, he pulled open the door in front of him leading into his joke shop. His joke shop, he thought again with a pang. How strange it was to be only one instead of two. He shook his head and stepped forward, moving into the dimly lit shop for the first time in weeks. He paused and let his eyes adjust to the gloom, the only light in the room peeping in from the gaps between the curtains. He thought of illuminating the lamps, but decided against it. He didn’t really want that much light.

Moving through the deserted shop, past quiet shelves full of loud products, George looked around himself at the accumulation of his and Fred’s innovation. Picking up an item resembling a shoe, he read, “Instantly silences footsteps. Perfect for performing pranks, hijinks, and general mischief. Always remain undetected with a pair of Sneaking Sneakers! (Additional shoe sold separately.)” He remembered this one, it had been his idea. He recalled the intensive development process, the long days of trial and error, as he and Fred spent weeks working out the kinks. It was hard work, but it had never felt like work, not with Fred by his side. They’d had so much fun together, enthusiastically testing out new ideas or building upon old ones, while even their failures were a boundless source of amusement to them. George tossed the Sneaking Sneaker aside despondently and moved on. He couldn’t imagine ever inventing anything again. He supposed his days as an entrepreneur were over now. He mulled this over, trying to decide how he felt about that. Shrugging, unable to muster up enough energy to care, he found it didn’t much trouble him.

Suddenly he heard a distinctive hoot, followed by a tapping and fluttering at the shop window. Sighing, he sauntered over towards the front of the shop, squinting in the sudden glaring sunshine that met his eyes as he pulled back the curtains enveloping the casement. Lifting the catch that secured the windowpane, he pushed open the glass, letting a tiny grey owl swoop in.

George recognized Pigwidgeon, his brother Ron’s owl, as it flapped past him, flitting erratically about the room before finally coming to rest on his shoulder. Holding out its leg, it presented a small scroll tied with a red string which George began to unknot.

“Get off it, Pig,” George muttered to the owl as it nipped at his ear, “That’s the last one I’ve got left.” Fishing around in his pockets for some owl treats Pig could snack on instead, he found a few dusty morsels, feeding them to the owl as he broke open the scroll. Unrolling the parchment, he recognized the handwriting as belonging to his sister, Ginny.

Dear George,

I had to borrow Pig from Ron to send this. I hope he gets it to you on time. I told him to take it straight there, but you know how he gets distracted sometimes. I know you haven’t been answering any of our letters, but I’m going to keep writing to you anyway. Mum wants you to come around this Sunday for dinner. I wish you would. She’s driving me mad. She’s got this endless list of household “projects” that need to be done, and keeps us all busy from morning till night. She’s worse than she was before Bill’s wedding. You’d think after we finally defeated You-Know-Who, we could all relax a bit, but she won’t stay still. She’s also made it her mission to try to keep me and Harry separated. She thinks if she keeps us busy enough, we won’t have a chance to get up to anything. It’s completely unfair too, because she leaves Ron and Hermione alone. You’d need a crowbar to pry those two apart. They are practically joined at the hip, and frankly, it’s sickening. At least Harry and I can keep our hands to ourselves in public. Of course, with Mum around we have to. But I didn’t grow up with you and Fred without learning a few tricks about how to get around Mum.

Anyway, we miss you George. Come visit us soon.

Love,

Ginny

George looked over Ginny’s letter before rolling it back up and sliding it into his pocket. He let Pig back out through the window without sending a reply. A vague feeling of guilt prodded at him. He’d been avoiding his family ever since the funeral. He knew it wasn’t fair to them, but he just hadn’t felt like facing them all. Not without…George felt the pressure behind his eyes increase as he thought of who would be missing.

Abruptly deciding he needed to get out of the shop, George slammed the window closed, quickly latching it before making his way over to the front door. Pushing through, he paused only to lock it behind him before proceeding hastily down the cobblestone street. His only thought was to get away.

Leaving the joke shop, George strode quickly down Diagon Alley, passing the many shopfronts and stalls without giving them a second glance. Having no real destination in mind, he thought only to put some distance between himself and the place he had just left. What he was actually trying to do was put some distance between himself and the great monster that dwelt in his chest, lurking just below the surface, waiting to pull him under. He walked swiftly, keeping up this hurried pace for several minutes, only slowing as the feeling began to subside.

Moving at a more leisurely pace, George strolled around for a little while, idly looking into shop windows until, stomach grumbling, he realized he hadn’t eaten anything all day. Finding himself in view of the Leaky Cauldron, he decided to stop in for lunch and started to head that way. Stepping in past the courtyard and through the creaking wooden doors, George blinked around as he entered the dimly lit pub.

Taking a seat at a table in the corner, George was soon approached by the innkeeper, Tom. Hardly glancing at the menu, he gave his order without giving much thought to what he wanted to eat. All food tasted much the same to him these days. While waiting for his meal to arrive, he stared down at the worn tabletop in front of him, tracing patterns in the wood.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear anyone approach until a tentative voice broke through his reverie. “George?” He looked up to see Angelina Johnson, his former teammate and fellow Gryffindor, standing before him.

“Oh…uh…hi Angie,” he said once he got over the momentary surprise at seeing her there. He felt a mild apprehension as he sat waiting for the inevitable ‘How are you?’ accompanied by the well-meaning but unwelcome sympathetic stare he always got when running into any of his old classmates.

But Angelina just looked at him openly before asking, “Mind if I join you?”

“Er…yeah…of course,” he said, sliding over on the bench to make room for her.

Tom appeared again, looking to Angelina. “What’ll you have?” he asked.

“Just a butterbeer,” she responded. As he walked away, she glanced over at George and added by way of explanation, “I’m not very hungry.”

“So…” George said, making a valiant effort at conversation, “What brings you to Diagon Alley?”

“Just running a few errands. Been doing a bit of shopping, and I’ve got some letters to post, but I thought I’d stop in for a drink first,” she told him.

Just then Tom returned with George’s food and two bottles of butterbeer. As Angelina reached into her pocket, George handed Tom a few coins, waving Angelina aside. “I’ve got it,” he said casually.

“Thanks,” said Angelina with a smile.

George began mechanically to eat his food while Angelina sipped her butterbeer. After a minute, she said to him, “I passed by the joke shop earlier. It didn’t seem to be open.”

George looked over at her, hearing the unspoken question. “Yeah…” he said slowly, “I think we might be closing up shop.” Realizing he’d said ‘we’, he opened his mouth to correct himself, but quickly closed it again, looking down at his plate. He picked at his food as he awaited her reaction. Angelina looked at him for a long moment. George took a swig of his butterbeer, avoiding her gaze. He didn’t really want to deal with any protests or be forced to explain or defend his decision.

When she did finally speak, it was only to say, “That’s too bad. I was hoping to stock up on some WonderWitch love potions.”

Surprising a laugh out of him, George began to cough, choking on his butterbeer. Angelina kept a straight face as she patted him on the back, a slight upturn at the corner of her mouth being her only giveaway.

“You don’t strike me as the type,” said George when he was finally able to breathe again.

“You’d be surprised,” she said, waggling her eyebrows with a grin.

George grinned back at her, his face feeling a bit strange as it stretched into the now unaccustomed expression. He wondered vaguely how long it had been since he’d last even smiled. Sobering a bit, he remembered exactly when it must have been. Grin fading, he went back to his plate, absently pushing food around with his fork.

Angelina continued to look at him warmly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she went back to nursing her drink. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Suddenly Angelina reached over and grabbed the fork from his hand.

“Oi!” said George as she took a bite of his lunch. Smiling unrepentantly, she reached over to take another.

“I thought you said you weren’t hungry,” George reminded her pointedly.

“You weren’t going to eat it,” she countered.

Throwing his hands up in mock defeat, he pushed the plate towards her. “It’s all yours,” he said generously.

She smirked at him as she replied, “Knew you’d see it my way.”

George couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his mouth as she finished off his meal for him. Twice in one day, he thought to himself, I must be setting a record. Throwing back the last of her butterbeer, Angelina banged the empty bottle back down on the table. “Ready to get out of here?” she asked him.

George raised an eyebrow, but responded, “After you.” Following her as she slid off the bench, they left the pub and strolled out onto the street.

Passing through the courtyard of the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley, George paused and turned to Angelina. “Where to?” he asked.

Angelina glanced at George and asked “Fancy a walk? I’ve still got these letters to send off.”

“Alright then,” George responded easily and fell into step beside her.

Heading toward the post office, they walked in silence for a while, George listening to the combined sounds of Angelina’s boot heels as they rang out against the cobblestones and his own worn out trainers as they thudded steadily along. After some time, he noticed their strides had synced up, their footsteps creating a soothing rhythm.

All at once, George realized why this sensation felt so familiar. Until recently, he had always had someone by his side mirroring his footsteps. Not just someone, but Fred. Stumbling slightly, George missed his next step and immediately fell out of sync with Angelina.

She looked over at him. “Alright?” she asked.

“Yeah…fine,” he responded, and falling a little behind, he deliberately remained out of step with her the rest of the way, feeling somewhat relieved at the discordance.

Approaching the post office, George stepped forward to pull open the door, pausing to let Angelina pass through before following her inside. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. The place was packed with owls of every sort. While Angelina approached the counter, George wandered through the shop, taking in the variety of shapes, sizes, and colors of the many post owls.

Coming across a very small, dingy-looking copse owl, George was reminded of the letter he’d had that morning from Ginny. That familiar feeling of guilt crept up on him as he imagined the disappointment on Ginny’s face when she saw Pig return empty-handed. The words of her letter ran through his head. We miss you. Come visit. The truth was, he missed them too. If anyone would be able to understand his grief, it would be his family. But that’s exactly what he was afraid of. He didn’t want to grieve. He didn’t want to face it. So, he kept himself numb, pushing away that awful truth, keeping it at arm’s length for fear that it would get too close and crush him under its weight.

He shook his head, banishing these thoughts, and turning on his heel, went to find Angelina again. As he approached the counter, Angelina turned and looked up at him, her smiling face sobering into a more thoughtful look as she took in his expression. Her hand moved, halfway crossing the space between them, before dropping back to her side.

George cleared his throat. “All done?” he asked her.

Angelina nodded, looking at him for a long moment before responding, “Yeah.”

George found he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Well then,” he said with false brightness, gesturing towards the door, “shall we?”

Following her out, George moved away from the door and began to proceed down the walkway, when he found his progress hindered as Angelina grasped his arm, pulling him into an alley between the post office and the shop beside it.

Staring at her anxious face, George was dumbfounded. “What’s the matter?” he asked her, glancing behind them in confusion, wondering what she was hiding from.

Angelina stared at him intently for a moment, opening her mouth to speak, then closing it again as though she were afraid of her own words. Finally, she opened her mouth once more and said, “I just…wanted to say…I mean, I know you may not want to talk about it, but…” she paused, trying to gather her thoughts.

Halfway through this speech, George’s face began to grow white, and a cold pit of dread fell into the center of his chest like a stone into water, reverberating outward like ripples through his body.

Taking a breath, Angelina said, “I just want you to know that I’m so…I’m so sorry about Fred.” George felt a stabbing pain go through his chest at the sound of Fred’s name. She continued, “I know those words are meaningless, but…he was such an amazing person, and I know it’s nothing to your loss, but I really c-cared about him…and I care about you, and…I’m so sorry that he’s…gone…” She finally trailed off, no longer able to make her thoughts coherent.

Looking at him intensely, her eyes brimming with raw emotion and her mouth pressed into a slim line as she finished speaking, Angelina waited for his reaction. George felt a ringing in his ears as though a bomb had exploded nearby. He could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips. That’s not normal, he thought distantly, bringing his hands up and gazing at his palms absently. Suddenly, he found his view obscured as she slid her hands into his, covering his palms and squeezing gently. Wrenching his eyes away from their now joined hands, he brought them painfully up to meet her gaze. Her eyes held a steady look, bravely meeting the anguish she saw swimming in his own. She seemed to be waiting for something.

George vaguely supposed that he should probably say something, but he found his mind empty of thoughts. He opened his mouth as though the words might just fall out of their own accord. What did come out surprised him, his heart missing a beat when the sound reached his ears. “Fred…” he croaked, his voice breaking on the name. And as if that one word were the catalyst, he felt the dam inside of him suddenly break, the waters rushing in on him, drowning him in his own grief.

He found himself suddenly on his knees, doubled over against the pain, Angelina’s arms wrapped around him as he sobbed uncontrollably. He didn’t notice how he had gotten there, and he didn’t notice anything else for a long time either. Angelina held him silently as he collapsed himself into his heartache, wave after wave of sorrow and anguish overtaking him. Neither of them spoke except for the single word that George found himself repeating unconsciously, “Fred…”

It was some time before George came back to himself. He slowly became aware of his surroundings as his sobs quieted and the river of tears ran dry. He felt his knees pressing into the cold, hard stone as he sat bent over the ground, hands resting on his thighs. Listening to the sounds of his own ragged breathing, he then noticed Angelina’s arms, one wrapped tightly around his middle, while the other cradled his head against her. He felt the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in and out. She loosened her grip slightly as he quieted, leaning back to peer down at him. Straightening, he sat back on his heels, wiping his face with the back of his hand, his eyes still cast downward towards the ground.

He felt the coolness of Angelina’s palms soothing his feverish skin as she gently took his face in her hands, cupping his cheeks in her palms. As she rubbed her thumbs under his eyes, George looked up at her, watching as she dried his tears. He took in her expression of deep concern as her eyes focused on him, her own face wet with tears which she didn’t seem to have noticed. George reached up to return the favor, the backs of his fingers brushing against her skin as he gently dried her cheeks. She captured his hand then, grasping it in hers. She hesitated a moment, looking into his eyes, before pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

Though still filled with an aching sorrow, George somehow felt a little bit lighter. As the storm inside him had passed, he felt something shift within him. Though the weight of his burden remained, it now seemed a weight he could carry. His sight felt sharper, the air in his lungs crisp and clean, sounds were more distinct, and even his thoughts seemed a little bit clearer.

Looking at Angelina, George surprisingly felt no embarrassment over what had just happened, though he did find himself struggling for words, not knowing what to say. She saved him the trouble. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t exactly call this a cozy place to spend our afternoon,” she said as she stood up, then leaned down to offer him a hand. He took it, rising slowly to his feet, his knees creaking after resting so long against the cobblestones, legs tingling as the blood rushed back through his veins.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said George, casting a glance around the cramped and darkened alleyway, “I think it’s quite a charming little spot.” With an appraising look, he added, “A few throw pillows, a couple paintings on the wall, I think we could really do something with this place.”

Angelina rolled her eyes, but a smile was on her lips as she moved toward the street, calling back over her shoulder, “There’s no accounting for taste.”

George lingered a moment before following, rubbing his hands roughly over his swollen face as he took a deep breath. Sighing it out, he ran a hand through his hair before following Angelina into the street. She glanced over at him as he caught up, bumping him slightly with her shoulder. He gave her a half smile and they walked on companionably for a while.

As they approached the Leaky Cauldron once again, their footsteps slowed before finally stopping as Angelina turned towards him. “Well, I guess I’d better go. I’m heading back into London,” she told him.

“Alright,” replied George, “It was…good seeing you again, Angie.” He looked down at her as she gazed up at him, one hand on her hip as the other shielded her eyes from the glaring sun.

“You too,” Angelina replied sincerely, giving him a searching look before adding, “Let’s keep in touch, yeah?”

George nodded, feeling something stir inside him as she looked up at him earnestly. His eyes roamed her face, taking in her smooth skin as they followed the curve of her cheek, lingering on her full lips, before moving back up to meet her deep brown eyes framed by long lashes. “Absolutely,” he said.

Angelina reached out, her hand almost touching his face, but dropping instead to his shoulder. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

George felt her hand slide down the length of his arm before reaching his own hand and squeezing gently. His fingers returned the gentle pressure before letting go. “I will,” he promised her.

Angelina gave him one last smile before turning to leave. George watched her go with a strange mixture of emotion. Then, stuffing his hands in his pockets, he turned away from the Leaky Cauldron and made his way back toward his flat. As he shuffled down the cobblestone street, he looked in shop windows and watched people walking by, catching bits and pieces of conversation as they flowed past him. He felt somehow more aware of his surroundings than he had in a long time.

As George passed by the post office once more, he slowed his steps, lingering on the sidewalk. His hand resting against the door, he paused momentarily before pushing through and walking inside. Stepping up to the counter, he contemplated a stack of parchment and assortment of quills that were resting there, before selecting one of each and scribbling a short note.

Dear Ginny,

I’ll see you on Sunday.

Love,

George

Rolling up his letter, George selected an owl at random and handed over a few coins to the clerk behind the counter, watching as she attached the scroll to the owl before setting it free. As the owl took off, its wide wings creating a breeze as it flapped past, George felt something ease inside of him, a tightness in his chest he hadn’t noticed was there until it had suddenly dissipated.

George then left the shop, stuffing his hands back into his pockets as he began the short walk home. As he approached the building, he decided to enter through the side door, feeling that he wasn’t quite up to entering the shop again today. He muttered the password he and Fred had set together long ago to ensure that only the two of them could enter. Listening as the lock clicked open, he turned the knob and pushed open the door, stepping into the front hallway before proceeding up the stairs. As he climbed up the two stories to his bedroom, he could feel his feet growing heavier with every step. Exhaustion began to creep over him, the events of the day leaving him emotionally drained.

Entering the room, he paused only to kick off his shoes before collapsing face down onto his bed. His throat was dry and his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth. He thought vaguely of dragging himself up to get a glass of water, but instead let the thought drift out of his mind again as he relaxed his body, burrowing further into the mattress. He was too tired to bother. His head felt fuzzy now, as though it had been stuffed with cotton. Turning his face to the side, he opened one bleary eye and looked over to the bed adjacent to his. A wave of sorrow rolled through him then, a distant, echoing feeling, and he closed his eyes again. Rolling over, he wrapped himself in his blankets and curled onto his side. Sighing, he let the exhaustion overtake him, sinking down into a blissful unconsciousness as sleep claimed him at last.

#harry potter #george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george x angelina #angst #fanfic #fanfiction

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fayecallasdatingblog · 6 years

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How Do You Know You Love Him: 21 Signs You Have Fallen For Him

So you’ve been seeing this guy for a few weeks or months, and you’ve got one word on your mind: LOVE. But…how do you know you love him? Is it just infatuation? Lust? Hormones? Or is this actually turning into something real?

How do you know you love him? Pay attention to the signs.

You find yourself singing Whitney Houston’s old gem, How Will I Know, in the shower:

There’s a boy I know, he’s the one I dream of Looks into my eyes, takes me to the clouds above Ooh I lose control, can’t seem to get enough When I wake from dreaming, tell me is it really love

Okay, that’s super cheesy, but my point is: the question “how do I know if I love him?” is eating at your brain. So allow me to help you get to the bottom of this all-important mystery.

How do you know you love him? The following are signs you’re in love with him, so if any (or all) are true, then you probably do!

1. You Talk About The Future With Him

Next Halloween, we should do a couple’s costume.

Hey, do you wanna take a three-week road trip in the spring?

Our kids would be so damn cute!

Topics like these come up with your boyfriend fairly regularly, and he doesn’t run screaming. Neither do you. Huh.

The thought of a future with this guy is something you’re starting to take for granted as a given, which is a pretty good sign you’re in love with him or are falling in love with him.

2. Everything Reminds You of Him

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You’re eating a peanut butter sandwich: This sandwich reminds me of Tommy. He eats peanut butter.

You put on your favorite green shirt: I wore this three days after my first date with Tommy.

You go out for tacos every Tuesday: Tacos start with the letter T! Just like Tommy!

These examples are a bit ridiculous, but they illustrate a point: if you have Tommy (or whatever your guy’s name is) on the brain 24/7, there’s a good chance you’re in love.

And this isn’t just me saying that when things remind you of him, it means you love him: Helen Fisher, an anthropologist at Rutgers University and a leading expert on the biological basis of love, found that people in love focused on trivial events and objects that reminded them about the objects of their affection. Likely, she surmised, this was due to elevated levels of central dopamine and a spike in central norepinephrine.

So if every little thing makes you think of your sweetie…yea, it could be love.

3. You Find Yourself Always Talking About Him

Ask your girlfriends how much you talk about your guy.

You’re kinda disgusted with yourself. You’ve become that girl. The girl (woman, really) who talks incessantly about her man.

Tommy and I were at IKEA the other day…

Tommy loved that recipe. I made it for him this weekend.

I’ll ask Tommy what he thinks about that.

Thing is…you can’t help yourself! It seems like his name falls out of your mouth without you even meaning it to. You try to curb mentions of him to keep your friends from murdering you…but it’s a challenge. How do you know you love him? Ask your friends how many times you’ve said his name in the last hour!

4. You Re-Read His Text Messages & Scroll Through His Photos

It’s the weekend and you’re ready to curl up on the couch for a good read. But instead of picking up that memoir that’s gathering dust on the coffee table…you grab your phone.

You love reading through your past texts with your man. It’s like reading a romance novel. You love scrolling back a mile to when you first started texting to see what the conversation was like way back when. You enjoy seeing when he started sending that kiss-blowing emoji your way.

And while no one else will join you in watching a slideshow of Tommy Pics, you love nothing more than to flick through your photos to gaze adoringly at his face. Here’s Tommy drinking a glass boot of beer. Here’s a selfie of the two of you on the beach at sunset. Here’s Tommy sleeping (er…we might need to have a different conversation if you have one of these!).

And if you wonder why reading these texts and looking at these photos feels so good…science shows that when people look at photos of loved ones, there’s an increase in dopamine (that feel-good drug) in the brain.

So…yea. This is your brain on Tommy.

5. It Never Feels Like You’re Wasting Time With Him

How do you know you love him? Here’s another clue: every moment you spend with your guy feels significant…even if it wouldn’t normally. Maybe in your past life, you wouldn’t have been caught dead staying in on a Friday night and Netflix bingeing with a boyfriend…but now it seems like a fantastic way to cuddle up to the man that you adore.

Even watching him fix his car or play rugby with the boys feels like a good investment of your time. Never a dull moment and all of that.

6. You’re Constantly Curious About Him

Being in love means constantly being curious about your man.

While you went through all the what do you do/tell me about your family/what are your pet peeves conversations early on in dating this guy, you’re still surprised to keep finding out little nuggets about him.

To me, this is the good stuff: all those thousands of little data points that help you really get to know someone you care about.

You find out he’s allergic to clams. That he makes a whimpering sound when he’s having a nightmare. That he’s oddly afraid of cats. That his dream career would be a sushi chef. None of these are very important in the grander scheme of things, but you find them fascinating, and they draw you closer to him.

7. You’re Comfortable With Making Little Sacrifices For Him

If your friends had told you a year ago that you would be waking up at 5 am every Saturday to go for a three-mile hike, you would have said they were insane. Yet here you are, training for a 5K with good ole Tommy.

Or maybe you quit drinking because he can’t drink. Eat vegan because he’s vegan. Whatever the sacrifice you’re making, you’re happy to do it…because you probably love him.

You’re happy to make these little compromises (and he does the same for you) because you know that they’re part of what makes for a happy relationship.

Just a note here: small sacrifices like the examples I gave above are fine, but know where to draw the line. If he’s asking something of you that makes you truly uncomfortable, like lying for him, know that this isn’t love.

No man who loves you would ask you to compromise your integrity for him.

8. You Feel Safe When You’re Around Him

When a man is open and communicative, when he’s loyal and supportive, a woman feels emotionally safe with him. You may have been scarred in the past in a long relationship or even a marriage, so trust and feeling secure are even more important to you now.

Ask yourself: does he make you feel safe, both physically and emotionally? Do you feel like he is your protector, both of your physical wellbeing and your heart? Would he do anything to keep you safe? If so, congrats. You’ve got a good guy on your hands.

9. You Notice Things That You Know He’d Love

When you’re out shopping, do you see and buy things your boyfriend would like?

While you’re at the grocery store, you see the new Peeps Oreos and pick up a pack because your boyfriend loves all things Peep-related. Later that night, you tell him about a concert you saw an ad for online; it’s his favorite band.

It’s like you’re tuned into things that you know he’d appreciate, and it feels kinda awesome.

Again, it’s often not the enormous things that give signs you’re falling in love; it can be the smallest details like these.

10. You Lose Track of Time

One minute it’s Friday evening and you’re headed over to his house to spend the weekend together. You blink, and it’s already Sunday night. Where did time go??

Time flies when you’re in love. It can feel like there’s never enough time to soak up all of his energy, and you’re left wanting more. If only you could clone yourself so that you could both go to work and handle other aspects of your life…and spend 24/7 with him!

11. You Have More Energy

Since you started spending time with this man, you’ve felt powerful and full of energy…like you could conquer any challenge…climb any mountain.

It’s been good for other aspects of your life. Maybe you’re killing it at work, and your boss has given you a pat on the back for all your hard work. You’re working out more, and are in the best shape of your life.

The movie Conspiracy Theory might seem a strange place to find inspiration here, but read this quote:

Love gives you wings. It makes you fly. I don’t even call it love. I call it Geronimo. When you’re in love, you’ll jump right from the top of the Empire State and you won’t care, screaming “Geronimo” the whole way down. I love her so bad, I just… whoa, she wrecks me. I’d die for her.

You don’t really have this invincible I-can-do-anything feeling when you’re just in like. There’s something magical that happens when you start to fall in love that just amplifies everything you do. You are more confident. Heck, you might even be smarter. There should be a scientific study on the IQ of people in love!

12. The World Seems Brighter

Being in love makes everything more vivid.

It’s like you upgraded from a 1950s tv to the latest and greatest 4HD tv. Everything is just…tuned up. You notice everything. The birds tweeting in the morning. The vivid colors of a sunrise. Science shows that your senses are amplified when you’re in love, so if everything’s in Technicolor lately, this is another of the signs you’re in love with him. Enjoy it!

If you’re looking for how to know you love him, just pay attention to the world around you and see if it seems more amplified than normal.

13. You Even Love His Faults

He chews with his mouth open. He farts in his sleep. He leaves his underwear in the middle of the floor. Any little quirk that drove you insane with past boyfriends is somehow…cute with this guy.

What gives? Have you lowered your standards??

No, my dear. This is one of the signs you’re in love with him.

You’ve realized on some level that these flaws are so unimportant in the grand scheme of things. That if he treats you well, it doesn’t matter that he leaves the toilet seat up. And accepting your partner’s flaws is an excellent sign of a long and happy relationship together.

14. You Can Talk to Him About ANYTHING

Not that you have many secrets…but there are a few things that you’ve never talked to anyone about. Maybe you were too embarrassed or didn’t have anyone you felt comfortable with sharing these things. But this guy? He’s different. You can tell him absolutely anything. No judgment. Nothing but support.

You’ve opened up to him in a way that frankly surprises you a little, and it feels pretty good.

Stop for a moment and realize how lucky you are to have found someone who you can trust enough to share your deepest, darkest secrets and thoughts with. Not everyone gets that. How do you know you love him? You hold nothing back.

15. You Can’t Concentrate on Anything

A woman in love can’t focus on anything but the object of her affections.

You’re not hungry. You can’t focus at work. When your friends talk to you, you can’t for the life of you focus on what they’re saying. You’ve been bitten by the lovebug, and one of the side effects is the inability to concentrate on anything…other than his handsome face.

It doesn’t matter if you’re 16 or 60. This is a common sign you’re in love with him.

Just remember though: if you put all your attention on him, it may overwhelm him. Likely he was initially attracted to you because of your well-rounded interests and general kick-assedness. Don’t give it all up to focus on the male. Keep on doing all the important things in your life. This lack of focus will eventually lessen.

16. You Relive Your Highlights Reel

As you fall asleep at night, you play a movie in your head. Tonight’s showing might be that romantic walk on the beach you had last weekend…

Or the mind-blowing sex you had last night…

Or the first time you kissed.

Netflix has nothing on the movies in your head. A woman in love often treasures the memories of her man — especially early in the relationship. Just don’t put so much attention on the past that you’re not fully present because there’s a lot of magic that happens in the moment when you fall in love.

17. You Share His Emotions

When he comes home from work, exuberant after an amazing win, you’re filled with delight. When he’s depressed that his dog died, you’re sad too. It seems like whatever he’s feeling, you feel. Could it be love?

When we care deeply about someone, we celebrate their wins and share their losses. It’s part of being a couple. So yes, if you feel like there’s a string tied from his heart to yours, then it very likely is one of the signs you’re falling in love…or are already there.

18. You Think About Introducing Him To Your Family

You’re ready for h from Meet Positives SM Feed https://ift.tt/2HoBVhN via IFTTT

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travisandersondatingblog · 6 years

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How Do You Know You Love Him: 21 Signs You Have Fallen For Him

How do you know you love him? Pay attention to the signs.

You find yourself singing Whitney Houston’s old gem, How Will I Know, in the shower:

There’s a boy I know, he’s the one I dream of Looks into my eyes, takes me to the clouds above Ooh I lose control, can’t seem to get enough When I wake from dreaming, tell me is it really love

Okay, that’s super cheesy, but my point is: the question “how do I know if I love him?” is eating at your brain. So allow me to help you get to the bottom of this all-important mystery.

How do you know you love him? The following are signs you’re in love with him, so if any (or all) are true, then you probably do!

1. You Talk About The Future With Him

Next Halloween, we should do a couple’s costume.

Hey, do you wanna take a three-week road trip in the spring?

Our kids would be so damn cute!

Topics like these come up with your boyfriend fairly regularly, and he doesn’t run screaming. Neither do you. Huh.

The thought of a future with this guy is something you’re starting to take for granted as a given, which is a pretty good sign you’re in love with him or are falling in love with him.

2. Everything Reminds You of Him

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You’re eating a peanut butter sandwich: This sandwich reminds me of Tommy. He eats peanut butter.

You put on your favorite green shirt: I wore this three days after my first date with Tommy.

You go out for tacos every Tuesday: Tacos start with the letter T! Just like Tommy!

These examples are a bit ridiculous, but they illustrate a point: if you have Tommy (or whatever your guy’s name is) on the brain 24/7, there’s a good chance you’re in love.

So if every little thing makes you think of your sweetie…yea, it could be love.

3. You Find Yourself Always Talking About Him

Ask your girlfriends how much you talk about your guy.

You’re kinda disgusted with yourself. You’ve become that girl. The girl (woman, really) who talks incessantly about her man.

Tommy and I were at IKEA the other day…

Tommy loved that recipe. I made it for him this weekend.

I’ll ask Tommy what he thinks about that.

4. You Re-Read His Text Messages & Scroll Through His Photos

It’s the weekend and you’re ready to curl up on the couch for a good read. But instead of picking up that memoir that’s gathering dust on the coffee table…you grab your phone.

So…yea. This is your brain on Tommy.

5. It Never Feels Like You’re Wasting Time With Him

Even watching him fix his car or play rugby with the boys feels like a good investment of your time. Never a dull moment and all of that.

6. You’re Constantly Curious About Him

Being in love means constantly being curious about your man.

To me, this is the good stuff: all those thousands of little data points that help you really get to know someone you care about.

7. You’re Comfortable With Making Little Sacrifices For Him

Or maybe you quit drinking because he can’t drink. Eat vegan because he’s vegan. Whatever the sacrifice you’re making, you’re happy to do it…because you probably love him.

You’re happy to make these little compromises (and he does the same for you) because you know that they’re part of what makes for a happy relationship.

No man who loves you would ask you to compromise your integrity for him.

8. You Feel Safe When You’re Around Him

9. You Notice Things That You Know He’d Love

When you’re out shopping, do you see and buy things your boyfriend would like?

It’s like you’re tuned into things that you know he’d appreciate, and it feels kinda awesome.

Again, it’s often not the enormous things that give signs you’re falling in love; it can be the smallest details like these.

10. You Lose Track of Time

One minute it’s Friday evening and you’re headed over to his house to spend the weekend together. You blink, and it’s already Sunday night. Where did time go??

11. You Have More Energy

Since you started spending time with this man, you’ve felt powerful and full of energy…like you could conquer any challenge…climb any mountain.

The movie Conspiracy Theory might seem a strange place to find inspiration here, but read this quote:

12. The World Seems Brighter

Being in love makes everything more vivid.

If you’re looking for how to know you love him, just pay attention to the world around you and see if it seems more amplified than normal.

13. You Even Love His Faults

He chews with his mouth open. He farts in his sleep. He leaves his underwear in the middle of the floor. Any little quirk that drove you insane with past boyfriends is somehow…cute with this guy.

What gives? Have you lowered your standards??

No, my dear. This is one of the signs you’re in love with him.

14. You Can Talk to Him About ANYTHING

You’ve opened up to him in a way that frankly surprises you a little, and it feels pretty good.

15. You Can’t Concentrate on Anything

A woman in love can’t focus on anything but the object of her affections.

It doesn’t matter if you’re 16 or 60. This is a common sign you’re in love with him.

16. You Relive Your Highlights Reel

As you fall asleep at night, you play a movie in your head. Tonight’s showing might be that romantic walk on the beach you had last weekend…

Or the mind-blowing sex you had last night…

Or the first time you kissed.

17. You Share His Emotions

18. You Think About Introducing Him To Your Family

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