(that has a nice ring to it)

anonymous asked:

Do you have a jewelry guide on what to wear during dates/meetings? I love your style in clothing, but how about jewelry? :) Keep slaying!

I think you should always follow the classic Chanel rule when it comes to jewelry and accessories. “Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and take at least one thing off.” I like simple jewelry that compliments your outfit without drawing all the attention. I would wear simple diamond studs, a delicate gold necklace, a simple band ring, or a nice watch. Obviously not all of these things together, just pick one. For watches I love Olivia Burton, Kate spade for bracelets, and you can’t beat Tiffany’s. Forever 21 has a huge selection of cheap jewelry if you’re just starting out.

anonymous asked:

I have this headcannon where the junkmetra proposal is chaotic leading up to it. Like one minute Junkrat has the ring and the next he doesn't and HE'S FREAKING OUT. WHERE IS IT? WHERE ON GIBRALTAR IS IT? And Symmetra comes in, finds the base trashed and hears Junkrat muttering about a ring and where is it. And she's like ... "Are you talking about the ring on your finger?" And he sees it there and he's like "Oh, yeah ..."

Then he drops down on one knee because it might as well as be right now (before he misplaces it again) because he wants her for forever if she wants him too

Picasso by Foster

Unfortunately this one shot was taken down by the author so if you haven’t already read it…yeah…but anyway.

I think this is the cutest camren story to ever exist because of how original the concept and plot were. If you’re unfamiliar, Camila, as a young child, paints a certain shade of green and Lauren comes to life and it continues until eventually Camila starts to lose her eyesight and has trouble painting Lauren. Or does she start to fade. I don’t remember!

All I remember is they use Sinu’s ring (I think) for Lauren’s eyes so she can stay permanently. And Sofi helps and it’s really cute. (If anyone remembers the plot exactly please let me know lol)

It’s a very cute story with an important life lesson that I can’t remember ugh. I would recommend it but that would be useless, but just know it was a very nice read.

Some of you are saying that the citizens of Hasetsu probably think Viktor is just Yuuri’s eccentric foreign boyfriend and I cannot say how much I agree.

“What a nice young man,” says Tamura-san, who used to run the fish shop in town and now usually sits beside the register and chats with customers while her grandson rings them up. She was born before ice skating was declared an Olympic sport and has absolutely no idea who Viktor Nikiforov is. 

“Yes, we’re very glad to have Vicchan staying with us!” Hiroko says of Viktor, who’s standing behind her cradling fifteen pounds of tuna and smiling brightly at Tamura-san. 

“How good of you to follow Yuu-chan home after he graduated!” Tamura-san continues, about ten decibels louder than she needs to. Tamura-san is about 87% deaf in her old age, but nobody has the heart to tell her so. “You must love him very much!”

Viktor, who has no idea what she’s just said to him but who heard Yuuri’s name, just blindly says, “Oh yes!” and grins even brighter. 

“Have you seen Viktor Nikiforov?” demands a rabid paparazzo of some poor fisherman just trying to do his job.

“Who?” asks the fisherman, frowning at the lens of the camera. 

“He’s tall? Foreign? Silver hair?”

“You mean Katsuki-kun’s boyfriend?” says the fisherman. Katsuki-kun’s boyfriend had run by ten minutes before with his poodle in tow, European synth pop blasting so loud from his headphones that it could be heard for a full minute both before and after he ran past. The fisherman doesn’t exactly know where Katsuki-kun found that guy, but he looks at Katsuki-kun like he hung the stars, so the fisherman can’t blame him.

In the end, he tells the paparazzo to go the opposite direction of the one he just saw Katsuki-kun’s boyfriend go.

A girl from Hasetsu graduates high school the summer Yuuri returns from America and is inspired by his experiences to go to college in America as well. She arrives in her freshman year dorm room and is greeted by a poster of Viktor Nikiforov hung up by her roommate.

“Why do you have a picture of Viktor?” she asks, bewildered. Viktor is wearing a pair of black slacks and a bright pink shirt unbuttoned almost to his navel.

“Oh, you know who Viktor Nikiforov is?” her roommate asks, excitedly.

“Do YOU?” the girl asks, incredulous. Viktor is known to her as “That foreign guy that followed Yuuri back from America when he came home” and also as Viktor-Who-Puts-Jam-In-His-Tea-Like-Who-Even-Does-That. Certainly not as Viktor Nikiforov, Five-Time World Figure Skating Champion and definitely not as Viktor-Who-Deserves-To-Be-On-Someone’s-Wall.

Come October, Viktor has started introducing HIMSELF to people as Viktor I’m Yuuri’s Boyfriend. While half of Russia reads articles about Figure Skating’s Living Legend, a sleepy town in Japan wakes up every morning to Yuuri’s Boyfriend Viktor wheeling through town on his bike with Yuuri and Their Cute Dog.

Viktor loves Hasetsu.

Victor is so open and transparent with affection toward Yuuri in public and I feel like Yuuri is really quiet and discreet but super sly about it when others are around 

(The entire skating fam has come over for a Victor’s birthday/Chritmas dinner)

Victor: and then the girl ringing us up at the market goes “are you Vict- *stops dead in his tracks and opens his eyes REAL big* 

Yuuri: *has placed his hand directly on Victor’s crotch under the table, but continues eating without skipping a beat* 

Victor: OH. MMHKAY.. sh-she goes ”aa-are you Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki!?“ ..anD.. d’ya WANNA tell them the r-rrest honey??? 

Yuuri: *calm and collected* oh no, it’s way funnier how you tell it. Go on.

Victor: allLLRIght THEN!! th-the girl was scanning…eggs wh- *Yuuri adjusts his hand’s position* WHEN I ANSwered “yes actually, nice to meet yoo-O-ou” and then Yuu- *under his breath* fuck Yuuri

Yuuri: *has a small smile on his face but carries on normally*

Victor: OOOKay hEy UM Yuuri, c-could you help me.. check THe.. check on the f-ffish.. the baby fish, yeAH ,,, see if they’re eating enough *gets up and all but sprints to their bedroom*

Yuuri: *smirking and shaking his head* we’ll be back in a few minutes… The baby fish and all *goes after him*

Yurio: wait a fucking minute….. they don’t have any damn fish

Had to sketch this dapper boi!

Heard he has no name yet, so my friends and I settled on calling him Jackson Edward Daniels, or just Jackson for short. Sounds fancy and has a nice ring to it! :D 

I also like picturing him smoking one of those fancy pants cigarettes from the old times. I wonder what his character is for and like? Either way, looked awesome in the pictures!

Might colour this in soon! Really liking this one! 

I'm On My Knee

Hi babes! This is a marshmallow-soft story about the reader and Tom having a special inside joke. That inside joke being Tom dramatically falling down onto one knee to tease her after she accidentally tells him that it’s always been how she wants to get proposed to. The inside joke makes the both of them think a lot about their future and cuteness ensues! I hope that you like it!

Side note: The film was everything I wanted it to be and more? It owns my entire heart? The cast did so well and I’m so happy for all of them and my heart is just overflowing with love and I’m going to see the film again tomorrow!

I’m On My Knee

“He makes me want to wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.” She murmured to her boyfriend, utterly and completely inebriated. “I want to learn how to cook so he can always come home to a hot meal. He makes me want to learn more so that I’ll always have new things to talk to him about, and he makes me want to take care of myself so that I can look good for him. I wanna read every book on the planet earth and watch every film, just so I have stories to tell him before we go to sleep. But, mostly, he makes me wanna wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.”

    Tom smiled, securing a strong arm around her waist before she had the opportunity to slip from the barstool she was trying to twirl on. Holding her still, he questioned, “anything else you want, darling?”

    Lurching forward, she twined her arms around his neck and moved to perch on his knee. She shoved her face into Tom’s neck and breathed in deeply, dragging her hands across the expanse of her boyfriend’s chest. He smelled of french cologne, the fabric of his shirt felt soft beneath her cheek, and she was so close to him that she could count the beats of his heart. “I love you.”

    Supporting her frame, Tom kissed the top of her head, “I love you more.” She sighed into his chest and Tom helped her to her feet, making sure that he still had her locked in his arms. “Let’s get you home now, drunky.”

“I want him on his knee like in the old films,” she added before she allowed Tom to guide her to their parked car.

    Truly, Tom felt the same way about her, but there was no way that he wouldn’t tease her about her intoxicated confession every chance he got. He’d been dreaming about how beautiful she’d look walking down the aisle to meet him since their third date and it comforted him that she seemed to feel the same way.

    She knew that she had majorly screwed up the next morning when Tom dropped down onto one knee, offering her a bottle of advil and a glass of water to soothe the pounding in her head that refused to be ignored.

    “On my knee, baby, just how you wanted!” Tom smiled, his curls flopping down in his eyes in the most endearing of ways. She hated that he looked so cute while he was so successfully embarrassing her.

    Groaning, she brought her hands up to cover her face, “Tom, stop! I told you that I was just drunk. Let it go!” She pleaded, blush spreading as far as the tips of her ears.

    Her boyfriend feigned hurt feelings, “well, if you were truly joking, guess I’m out of here. Gotta go get me a girl who’s in it for the long haul.” Tom joked as he moved to walk out the door.

    “Tom,” she whined before rushing forward to keep him in place with a hug. “Stop being so dumb and help me make pancakes. You flip them better than I do.”

    Smiling down at her, Tom took of her hands within his own and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “One day, I’ll be way more than just your boyfriend who flips pancakes better than you do. One day, I’ll be your husband who flips pancakes better than you do.” Tom laughed, picking her up to spin her around the kitchen.

    She was happy that Tom was focused on not dropping her or running into anything because she was even pinker than she’d thought previously possible and she was positive that the smile on her face was so huge that her face would crack into halves. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have the greatest job, it didn’t matter that she was absolute shit at math, in fact, she couldn’t think of anything that mattered to her more than what Tom had just said. He was planning on a future with her and she was so elated that she spent the entire rest of her week floating from place to place on a bed made of cotton candy clouds.

    The next time Tom dropped to one knee for her, it was in the flower shop while she was sifting through bins of tulip bouquets for their friend’s dinner party. “Because I love you,” Tom said, holding out a bundle of daisies.

    Rolling her eyes, she took the flowers and bent forward to kiss Tom tenderly on the mouth. “Because I love you,” she repeated back to him before taking both bouquets to the register while Tom struggled to free his wallet before she could pay for her daisies.

    The time after that, Tom fell to one knee when she had come home with smudged mascara and tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. Hurrying off the couch, he dropped to one knee in front of her, pulling her to perch softly onto his popped knee. “What’s the matter darling?”

    Shrugging her shoulders, her lower lip trembled and she merely hid her face in Tom’s neck.  Stroking her hair and mumbling the words to ‘Moon River’ into her ears, Tom waited for her to tell him what was upsetting her. He did his best to search his mind for anything he could’ve done, anything her friend’s could’ve done, anything at home that could have upset her and came back with nothing. Tom briefly had a fleeting feeling that he was failing as her husband until it clicked in his brain that he hadn’t ever gotten down on one knee before her to present her with an actual ring.

    That night, while she snuggled into the crook of his arm, her face hidden so close to his neck that Tom could feel her lips press into his skin, he looked up some photos of rings. Each time Tom found a particularly nice ring, he’d zoom in and envision it on her lovely hands. Looking down at her hand that was loosely curled around his waist, he murmured to her sleeping form, “nobody, not even the rain,has such small hands.” His girl had been on an E.E. Cummings kick and clearly the poetry she read aloud to him had rubbed off on Tom.

    Placing his phone back into it’s charging station on their nightable, Tom laid down and  made sure to lace his fingers through her own before he shut eyes to sleep, agreeing with E. E. Cummings  that nobody had such small hands. Such small hands that a glittering ring would only compliment.

    The next weekend, as she and Tom strolled through the supermarket to grab some fresh vegetables and fruit, and maybe a loaf of bread to go along with dinner, Tom spotted the baked goods aisle. Getting completely sidetracked, Tom stood staring at the pastries while she carried on in search of the produce section. Glancing at her retreating figure and then back at the deserts, Tom grabbed an armful of cookies, cinnamon rolls and cupcakes before hurrying after her.

    Her eyes widened when she saw her boyfriend nearly skipping towards her, arms overflowing with pastries. “Tom,” she started, cocking her hip and raising her brows, “that is ridiculous. Pick one thing, we already have too many snacks as it is!”

    “No, no, darling, you don’t get it. We’d leave the cinnamon rolls for breakfast, and we could eat the cookies as a snack, and then the cupcakes could be after dinner.” Tom tried to ration.

    “Tom, I’ll eat them all and then get bigger and you know I’m trying to look good this summer!” She whined, shaking her head and silently pleading for Tom to at least put one of the items he was holding back.

    Shuffling the food around in his arms, Tom attempted to clutch all the food with only one hand. Gently moving her hair away from her eyes, Tom kissed her temple. “Darling, you know that you’re perfect. There’s nothing wrong with how you look, and nothing would be wrong with how you look even if you decided to inhale the entire pastry department on your own. I love the way you think, how kind you are to others, and you’re one of the smartest and least arrogant people that I know! I love you for your heart, and your brain. I thank the universe every night for your lungs and your kidneys, because they make you. You’re sweet-ass body just happens a perk of loving you.”

    Tom kissed her one last time before dropping down onto one knee before her, “c’mon angel, please?” He asked one last time.

    Rolling her eyes at her boyfriend’s cheesiness, she placed the cupcakes and the cinnamon rolls in her basket before leading Tom over to the fruit and asking him to pick out the crunchiest apples for their salad.

    When Tom fell to one knee again, it was after she had gone shopping with her friends and was currently modeling her new purchases at his request. She had exited the bathroom in which she was changing in, wearing an extremely short, white dress that left very little, if anything to Tom’s imagination. The dress was littered with small, red roses and had straps that were tied into a bow. As she twirled for him, Tom could see that the straps were the only thing holding her new dress together and by the time that she’d stopped her spinning, Tom was on one knee.

    “Should I take this off myself or do you wanna get up off the floor and help me?” She giggled, toying with the bow sitting atop her shoulder blade.

    As Tom carefully untied her dress and watched it fall to the ground, he muttered, “pretty ring would go nice with the roses.”

    She could barely hear what Tom had said, let alone comprehend it, as he began to pepper her exposed body with warm kisses. Stuttering out an barely audible, “uh-huh,” as Tom mouthed over the sensitive spot she had just beneath her ear.

    As time went on, “I’m on my knee,” became a phrase that she would hear from Tom almost as frequently as he said “I love you.” He’d drop to his knee in public, private, essentially everywhere they went. She was nearly convinced that Tom on his knee wouldn’t ever mean anything other than their inside joke, but little did she know how Tom feeling.

    Each time he dropped down onto one knee before her, it always made him long to obtain a ring to present her with. Considering that he was on his knee for her essentially everyday now, so much so that even the press was completely desensitized to photos of Tom on his knee before his girl, he was legitimately out and about looking for rings.

    He’d recruited his mother to assist with the search, begged Harrison, Jacob, his brothers, his father, and even her mother to help him with the search, but none of them could find a ring that Tom felt was worthy of her hands. Each time someone would send him a photo of a ring that left Tom dissatisfied, which was often, he’d simply send back the verse from ‘Somewhere I Have Never Traveled, Gladly Beyond,’ regarding the smallest of hands. At this point, nobody was sure what he meant. Once Harrison had tried to clarify what exactly the rain having tiny hands had to do with the ring search, but he came back describing a look of genuine craziness in his best mate’s eyes and decided to drop it.

    It was only after Tom had wandering into an antique shop with his mother that he found something perfect for her. The wedding ring was vintage and even came with an engagement ring, and after Tom had spent countless hours on the weekend thrifting and wandering in an out of hidden gem shops with his girl, he knew that she’d love it.

    Tom could only hide the ring for about a week. He was utter and complete shit at hiding things, especially from her, and the ring felt as if it was burning a hole through his pocket. He couldn’t wait to let the whole world know that she was going to his forever and he’d be hers for just as long. Tom just needed to create the perfect moment.

    Luckily for him, the perfect moment came the very next morning. Tom trailed behind her, kissing the back of her neck softly as she laughed and threaded her fingers up through his curls. They were deep within the poetry section of the most massive library Tom had ever seen and when she reached up to grab a novel, Tom felt as if the wind got knocked out of him. In her hands sat a copy of E. E. Cummings collected poems and while she sifted through the pages, Tom prayed inwardly to the universe for her to read the poem that he knew was destined to be hers.

    Not allowing her time to chose a poem, Tom dropped down to one knee while her back was still turned on him. Digging the ring out from the confines of his pocket, he could only get the last few lines of the poem out. “I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice in your eyes is deeper than all roses.”

    As Tom neared the end of the poem, she turned and opened her mouth to say the last verse with him. “Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.” She smiled, completely prepared to meet Tom’s eyes as she finally faced him.

    At first, the only thing her mind could register was that her boyfriend was on his knee, as always. It took her a second to take in the ring that glittered off of the library’s bright ceiling chandelier. Pressing a hand over her lips, she struggled to breath, her small hands gripping the open poetry book in her hands. “Do you mean it, Tom?” She questioned, her eyes flicking down to the ring he was presenting her with.

    His eyes were glassy in the light, and Tom smiled, “course I do, darling. I’m on my knee after all.”


‘Pathfinder’? Don’t you mean… 'Space Wayfinder’? OwO

2

23/3/17 I’m working on a physical geography practical write up right now about glaciers and it’s really tricky because I’m not sure how I should be answering the questions! It’s due in at 2pm, and its 10am now so I’m going to knuckle down and get it done. I pressed a flower I picked the other week, and its sitting next to my thermos today. It has the quote that inspired the name for this blog on it! Yesterday I got a helix piercing and went and read the lord of the rings in the gardens, so it was a really nice day, but I didn’t get much work done! xxx emily

Bitty set the pie in the oven, made sure the timer was set and then continued telling his long-winded story to Jack, who was sitting at the kitchen table, avidly listening with his chin resting on his arms folded on the table. 

Bitty turned to the sink as he spoke and began to do the dishes, “-and then there was this whole to do about the store-bought jam at the bake sale and Moo Maw said to Mrs. Jameson, who lives one street over, that she can take her store-bought jam and shove it up her-”

“I think we should get married.” 

The pot Bitty had been holding fell into the sink and caused a wave of soapy water to splash onto Bitty’s front, and Bitty staggered to the side, clutching his heart and holding the counter for support. When he finally found his voice again he scolded, “Jack Zimmermann are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

But Jack had that look on his face, the one he has when he’s lining up the puck, or the one he has after he’s just got back from a 10 mile run, the one he had before he kissed Bitty for the first time.

“We’re practically married already anyway. I think we should make it official.” Jack said, still not taking his eyes off Bitty.

Bitty spluttered for something to say, “Jack - we’ve - we’re - I don’t think - We’ve only been dating for two years. You’ve only been out for 6 months!”

“So? Timing couldn’t be better.” Jack said, a small smirk forming on his face.

BItty sinks into a chair across from Jack. “Jack I swear if this is some sort of joke, I don’t get it.”

“I’m not joking. And this isn’t a proposal by the way. But that’s coming.” Jack nodded.

“Jack!” Bitty squawked, “I haven’t even graduated yet!?”

Jack got up from the table and pressed a small kiss onto Bitty’s temple, then walked to the door of the kitchen. “Fiancé has a nice ring to it eh?” Jack said with a smirk over his shoulder.

He didn’t see, but rather heard, Bitty’s muffled squeak as he headed up the stairs with a blinding smile on his face.

Back in the kitchen, Bitty’s face was buried in his hands, but he was grinning ear to ear. “This boy.” He muttered.

Mouth o’ Mine

Harry X Reader: Angst, smut

In which Harry’s no good with his words but he sure is good with his mouth.

Request? Yes:

some harry face sitting action maybe?

Author’s note: This is a continuation of “Mess o’ Mine.” I would suggest reading that first, if you haven’t already. I thought this was gonna be the end but then I fucked up so… there’s also a part 3. Hope you enjoy! I did!

Part 1: Mess o’ Mine // Part 3: Mind o’ Mine


You’ve been running through the events that have occurred, confused at the escalation and the outcome. No issues have been resolved, and there wasn’t really a conversation or discussion. You don’t know any more than you did when you heard Harry singing your poems. Has he used your writing in more songs on his album?  Has he read your whole journal? God, you hope not. One poem is bad enough.

Harry hasn’t been around, hasn’t tried calling for the two weeks since he showed up on your doorstep. You’ve flipped the channel whenever he shows up on your television and scrolled at record speed when he’s popped up on your social media feeds. Maybe you should feel relieved and cleansed of his toxicity, but you don’t. Instead, you feel a little broken, like your stomach is splintering into pieces, and your mind still feels split open. Not only that, but you can smell him, feel the weight of him on top of you, taste the foreign flavor of his mouth. This isn’t what you need.

A whole other wave of confusion has rolled over you in terms of your relationship with Harry, if there still is one. The two of you have crossed a line without any prior thought or contemplation. Years upon years of friendship have been threatened, and you’re not even sure how it happened. Why did he kiss you? How did the two of you end up in bed, naked between the sheets? If you were confused about it before, trying to figure things out has only worsened your introspection.

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Something There

Overview: Four years have passed since the war and you and Draco are now soon to be married. But as his insecurities catch up to him, he begins to wonder why someone like you would ever want to be with a former Death Eater like him. For who could ever learn to love a beast?

Word Count: About 1,400.

Warning(s): Some fluffy fluff.

Note: Draco x Reader Beauty and the Beast retelling loosely based off of “Something There” (see below).


Draco watched as you twirled around the kitchen of the Malfoy Manor, a sterling silver spoon in hand. In a cozy robe and pajamas, he thought you were quite a sight. His favorite sight in the world, nevertheless.

“One more week,” you sang. “That’s seven more days until we’re married.” After placing your dishes in the sink, you sat down at the dining table next to Draco. “Can you imagine?”

“Seeing as we already live together,” said he, gesturing to the vast interior of the manor, “I quite easily can.”

You nudged him with your elbow. “It’s still not the same. Soon, we’ll be Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy.” You paused. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Although he replied with a nod, Draco couldn’t help but frown at the sound of his last name. What was once a word he flaunted about and held to the highest esteem had turned into a scarlet letter after the Second Wizarding War.

He furrowed his eyebrows, dragging his spoon along the rim of his bowl. Soon, you would bear the name Malfoy. Malfoy. A name tarnished and sent to Azkaban and back as nothing more than a patch on his parents’ clothing.

And the more he thought about it, the more Draco realized that wasn’t a burden he wanted to share with you.
__________

A day passed and Draco still had an unsettling feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t uncommon for him to wear long-sleeved shirts, but now he could hardly bare glancing at his Dark Mark.

Is this what being a Malfoy meant?

“Draco,” you said, climbing into the bed as you stared at his back, “what’s the matter?”

He tucked his hand under a pillow. “Nothing, love. Just tired, is all.”

“I don’t believe you.” He felt the mattress shift ever so slightly as you drew nearer to him. “Before all else, Draco, I am your friend. Before being your fiancée, your girlfriend, your anything– I’m still just your best friend.” You peered over at him, his eyes focused on the wall. “So why on earth would you expect me to believe that lie?”

Sighing, Draco turned on his other side to face you, propping himself up on his arm. He noticed the way you scrunched your nose in concern, a wrinkle appearing between your eyebrows.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong, babe,” you pleaded. Your face softened as you examined his tired eyes, bringing your hand to brush against the cold skin of his face. “Is it the wedding? Are we going into this too soon?”

“No, of course not. It’s not–” He took a deep breath, unsure of what he wanted to say. Draco captured your hand in his, pulling it near his chest. He stroked the calloused pad of his thumb against your knuckles absentmindedly. “If I had to describe you in one word, it would be perfection.”

You quirked an eyebrow, unsure of how to react. “I’m no where near perfect, but– Don’t try to change the subject.”

He let out an indignant chuckle. “I wasn’t finished. I only meant…Just look at yourself and then look at me.”

“I see a witch and a wizard.”

“Funny,” said Draco with a straight face. “But really look. Because when I look at you, I see a compassionate, intelligent woman who fights for what’s right.” His eyes darted to his clothed forearm, the black mark almost visible through his white night shirt. “When I look at myself, I see is a monster. A beast. A coward, at best.”

You stayed silent, Draco’s hand still in yours. “I think your perception is tainted,” you said, withdrawing your hand from his to gently push back at his sleeve. He caught sight of a sliver of his Dark Mark, causing him to wince. Draco saw you reaching for a black marker next to your journal on the nightstand.

You uncapped it, taking hold of his hand.

“What are you–”

You silenced him with a brief kiss on the lips. You sat up and moved his arm onto your lap. “When I see you, Draco, I see someone who shouldn’t be defined by their mistakes.”

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