#xmeadowes

[toujourslamcur]

█✬▌@xmeadowes​​┊continued.

   ❝ Some muggle reference, I’m assuming. ❞    Her better efforts to avoid getting attached fail in this particular case. Dorcas has a way of searing herself to the hearts of the people around her. Though she may seem cold at time, Andromeda is hardly immune to such an affliction.     ❝ Come here, I’ll teach you how to properly stitch a wound. ❞

[thefabiansociety]

( continued. ) @xmeadowes

              After a moment of careful consideration, ❝ Nah, I don’t think I can. ❞

[thefabiansociety]

( continued. ) @xmeadowes

              For a brief and rare moment, he stills. Not quite as desperate to get her to simply look at him ( there is a fat chance he’d manage to hold her gaze anyhow ) Fabian’s horrendous posture wilts even more. It nearly stops him from asking the question, the words are close to being caved in but such as the case of so many times before, they find their escape route.

                         ❝ With me? ❞

[thefabiansociety]

“Don’t apologize. I don’t want that from you.”

                                ( meme. ) jessica jones

                 He rolls to his side, rolls to face her, to pull her wrist closer to him. He forgets his apology ( if he’s being honest he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for in the first place ) and searches her face.  

                            ❝ What do you want? ❞

[fortisleaena-archive]

            ❛ D'you ever think about what's waiting               for     us     when     we    graduate   ?❜

[fortisleaena-archive]

            Slender fingers grasped at white fabric, unable to             find a place to rest without fidgeting. The butterflies             in her stomach weren't the problem, no. It was the             absence of father, mother, and sister on what was             easily the most important day of her life. Sniffling,             a dark lock was tucked behind her hair as she tried             to regain some sort of composure.

            ❝         How do I look? ❞

[xmeadowes]

   ”Stop, Fabian.”

   ”I’m trying to be cross with you.”

[thefabiansociety]

   ”Be cross and kiss me. Multi-task, Doe.”

[thefabiansociety]

     There was a reason why his shirts were her favorite. For one, they were amazingly soft, and she thought that he'd refuse to wear anything less than that. They smelled distinctly like a cologne, not too strong, and one that she could never pick up when he wasn't in the room. A few times she'd wondered if that was his natural smell, that pureblood wizards were born with a specific fragrance, something that she'd never be able to achieve, but laughed it off quickly.

     She liked to bury her nose in his chest and was grateful when she wasn't pushed away. Her fingers traced over the fabric or clutched it in her fist. Sometimes it was discarded and left on the ground, completely forgotten until someone (in most cases, Dorcas) picked it up and adorned it once more.

      And then he was gone, and his shirts were left unfolded in piles that sat in the dresser. She could tell which on he'd worn last due to that potent scent. The soft cloth between her fingers would have brought tears to her eyes had she not already wept until they were dry. So instead of sadness, it ignited anger in her. With empty eyes, trembling hands, and an unruly appearance, they were put to flames. She was close to doing the same to the house, which he had tainted with that poisonous odor.

                   She hated it, she hated the shirts, she hated him. She hated how much she loved him, and that her love wasn't enough to keep him alive.