inki fingers

the first poem
I ever wrote
was all about you
the page stained
by my inky fingers
a bleeding pen
crying about
forbidden feelings
in a quiet rain
—  and nothing has changed,not really - a new you, but same old feelings, @celtic-poetry -FnyM
  • Friend: are you okay?
  • Me:
  • Me:
  • Me: [ Kaz slowly becomes more comfortable with physical contact with Inej. They share a bed on her ship and he always slips his gloves under his pillow. Inej won't allow him under the covers if he doesn't. Without gloves or not at all. Sometimes the dark harbor and dead bodies creeps back through his dreams and he bolts from the bed in a cold sweat, thinking the body he holds is Jordie and the lapping of the water is the harbor. Kaz escapes onto deck looking over the inky black water,his fingers flexing over the lifeless wood. Sometimes Inej will slip from the sheets to go stand silently beside his side until his hand seeks out her warm fingers, reminding himself who she was. That she was alive and breathing. That he wasn't that eight year old boy anymore. Sometimes she stays in bed and he doesn't return till the morning. ]
  • Me: I'm fine

Here is an example of how different qualities of light can effect the same plant!

Both of these guys started out as cuttings from the same parent plant. They may look like two different varieties, but genetically they’re exactly the same. They’re both kept lightly moist, in the same soil mix, and are pruned and fed at roughly the same rate.

The only thing that differs between them is light. The one on the left in the pink planter is kept in a corner between two windows, so it gets light from north and east. It only gets some direct sun in the late morning.

The one on the right in the blue pot is in a sunroom that gets light all day. There are windows facing north, east, and south. It’s on a ledge a little to the side of the south windows, and gets about an hour of southeastern sun in the early evening.

Both plants are happy and growing like crazy (I just repotted the right one). The extra shade is what helps the plant on the left to keep its deep magenta colors. The bright green of the right plant is likely extra coloring to protect the leaves from too much sun. Excess sunlight would cause the leaves to bleach, and not enough light would cause them fade.

Henry and the Ink Machine Part 7

Another chapter, at long last!

Once again, it’s a bit short, but here’s part 7/Chapter 5 (on AO3 as well)!

Inspired by @thelostmoongazer‘s sketches here and here, and @the-vampire-inside-me’s, here.

Quick Summary: Bendy, having been living in the human world for the past 30 years, received a note from his creator, and is lured back to his once home. But what will he find there? And will he ever leave again?

First Part  Previous Part  Next Part


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Some More Show!Universe stuff

Well , I was wondering why Show!Hiccup isn’t bothered by the fact that he was ridiculed for 10 years , and then after I re watched few episodes of RTTE it hit me .Show!Hiccup Wasn't ridiculed .

Because think about it , why would he be ? The main reason given for Movie!Hiccup being bullied that is given to us , is because he is not physically strong.  

However Show!Hiccup is continuously shown to be stronger than most people he encounters.

In DOB Tuff just assumes that Hiccup is able to render two beserker guards unconscious .

And in RTTE Hiccup is shown to to be able to use a giant battle axe easily , knock over two dragon hunters twice his size just by kicking them and is able to punch out three of Snotlout’s teeth.

And to explain thaw fest  I think that Snotlout was only a little stronger than Show!Hiccup who would be able to show him up in strategy  anyway , so thaw fest would be the one time of year the he could outshine his cousin ( I’ll analyse Show!Snotlout some more in a later post )

So since Show!Hiccup is a decent enough fighter and a great strategist he would have probably have led training battles when he was a kid .

This explains why Show!Hiccup is such an eager leader  , he’s never considered himself to be anything  else .

Yes i know that this one’s a bit bland and it makes Show!Hiccup kinda boring but the Show writers hold such disregard for canaon that gotta rewrite the entire movie just so the shows make sense

BTW you asked me if i had a tumblr account , yes i do right here https://the-inky-fingered-sphinx.tumblr.com .

- Submission by @criosphinxed​


Oh! If you have a tumblr account then feel free to just tag me in posts like this. Submissions are just sort of awkward for me. They erase who sends them, the formatting’s hard to follow (imo), plus formatting it is left to me, the recipient, which is a pain, and, yeah, they’re all around a confusing pain in the butt XD

And this point in particular is where we’ll definitely disagree.

I’d like to direct you to THIS POST for a collection of links each leading to a post or response detailing why.

But to summarize:

Hiccup’s problem in HTTYD was not because he was small. Hiccup’s size was not definitive to his character. He was hardly smaller than Astrid for Thor’s sake. It was because “his way” wasn’t the “viking way”. Hiccup was not a complete victim of bullying and harassment and being generally misunderstood. Hiccup was trying to fit in, failing to fit in, and insistent on fitting in while doing things his way, and ultimately being a hazard to the village. Which made him a pain in damn near everyone’s ass. It definitely didn’t win him any points with his peers.

Hiccup had confidence as well as pride in his work; he was just made to feel ashamed of it. He already had qualities of leadership (which you’ll probably find examples of if you click any of the links), and by HTTYD2 he had not changed himself, but rather he had changed his environment, and we, the audience, were left to see the result of Hiccup thriving in said environment. He didn’t change, he thrived. With qualities he already possessed and exhibited.

And even with the TV show you seem to be making a few leaps and bounds with the assumption that Hiccup’s “led a few training battles” for strategies. I mean, I get that your point is to show how much the TV show has disregarded movie canon, but this sort of brings me back to people being so blindsided by the Hiccup in HTTYD2 – both physically and his attitude – that it made me wonder if they watched the first movie at all, or just delved into exaggerated pre!httyd1 whump fics and got confused.

pairing: tattoo artist! taehyung  x reader
genre: angst
wordcount: 970

Originally posted by bts-jimin16

There comes one problem with dating a tattoo artist.

But at the beginning, it was wonderful. Taehyung was wonderful. From the day you first met him - brought along by a mutual friend and introduced to you with good intentions - he was mysterious glances and playful laughter. A flamboyant yet cavalier appearance and a bright personality underneath. You fell for him right there and then.

And like a miracle, you caught his attention as well. Large dark eyes that kept glancing at you, flirtatious jokes and an offer for a drink. At the end of the night, he kindly accompanied your tipsy mind back home, and before he left his name and number were carefully saved in the contact of your phone. kim taehyung. All in lowercase and not even an emoji, oh so sleek and intriguing.

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Hogwarts House Aesthetics
  • Gryffindor: alcohol burning in the back of your throat, s'mores, lighting bugs at dusk, biting your nails, the smell of gasoline in the heat, linking fingers, crunchy leaves, music that pounds in your chest, Polaroids, thunderstorms, hot tears running down your cheeks.
  • Hufflepuff: dust floating in the sunshine, twirling in a new dress, wind chimes, the stickiness of melted ice cream, pricking your finger, walking barefoot in cool grass, hugs that sweep you off your feet, coin jars, honey in your tea, hand-stitched quilts, blood rushing in your ears.
  • Ravenclaw: footprints in fresh snow, velvet, whispers in the dark, clothes lines billowing in the wind, snow globes, a hand on the small of your back, tiny paper cuts, raindrops that remain on windowpanes long after the storm, inky fingers, record players, cursing to the wind.
  • Slytherin: a string of pearls, feet sinking in wet sand, gliding on fresh ice, a static shock, black coffee, the stillness after the lights go out, skipping stones, fingers in your hair, the crunch of an apple, dragonfly wings, the bitter taste of harsh words.
Summer showers

Prompt: A campfire, lightning bugs, a note 

Just Kurt fluff, because I’ve missed this little fluffy blueberry

Kurt x gender neutral reader

Master list

Originally posted by linneaquigley


You stared into the mirror, checking over every detail of your outfit. The note, along with a single flower, that had been personally delivered by one of Kurt’s little bamfs, in the middle of a class full of giggling teenagers, still sat on your dresser, it simply read, ‘meet me in the lobby at 8 o’clock, all my heart your fuzz ball.’ The scrap of paper may have been simple, but the beautiful words imprinted on it were held close to your heart.

Eventually satisfied with your outfit, you slipped on your shoes and headed out of your bedroom door, and down the long corridor to entrance hall, where Kurt was already waiting patiently, looking dashing as ever with his freshly pressed shirt, his jacket folded over his strong arm.

As soon as he spotted you, his already handsome face lit up, fangs just say poking out from between his full lips. “mein Schatz’ he murmured into your hair as he wrapped his arms around you, his scent filling your nose, as you buried your face in his chest. “will I need a coat?’ you asked as you pulled away slightly, unsure of where you would be going, ‘you can have mine, if you get cold darling’ he reassured, taking your hand and leading you out of the grand double doors, ‘but I don’t want you to be cold’ you protested, ‘well then, we’ll just have to snuggle together to keep warm’ a flirtatious smile playing at his lips, as you strolled into the gardens, the fireflies dancing amongst the flowers, as the stars twinkled above, in the inky velvet  sky; fingers still intertwined as Kurt lead you to a small hill, where at the very top, sat a bottle of wine, two glasses and a blanket for the pair of you to sit on. You couldn’t help the broad smile from spreading across your cheeks, as you made your way to the very top, where the pair of you flopped down onto the blanket, bumping shoulders.

“This is beautiful Kurt’ you complimented, giving his cheek a sweet kiss, making those little fangs peep out once more, as you cuddled into him, ‘are you cold?’ he asked, already draping his jacket over your shoulders, ‘no, I’m just stealing some of your warm’ you murmured.

The pair of you chatted for hours, about everything and nothing, perfectly content in each other’s company, watching the fireflies waltz together, until a drop of water dripped onto your nose, followed by another and another. “Hang on, storm warned me it might rain’ Kurt rambled as he reached behind him, grabbing a large umbrella, as the heavens opened, rain pouring from the midnight sky. Kurt pulled you back into his side, fingers knotted together, as he held the umbrella with his tail. You would have to thank Ororo in the morning.

 

Have a great day and be safe

@fiddlesticksimagines

timeless

wassup wassup i’m actually deceased and i’m posting from the grave but this is draft i’ve had forever and i’m honestly so sorry for being shit in general its just school and new shows and fics and ahhh 

word count: 2k 

1934 

The first time Steve ever saw you, he just about tripped on his untied shoelaces in his too big shoes and fell on his face, too distracted gawking at how damn lovely you looked. 

He could’ve sworn you were an angel because you were heavenly - he was sure that no dame in the whole of Brooklyn could ever be as captivating or charming as you were, smitten with you at first sight. Steve was a complete sucker for romance, a hopeless romantic at heart and when they spoke of love at first sight, he was sure they meant you. 

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Pages fluttering in the quiet – how many lives were lived here? How many souls touched by inky fingers? Leather lent warmth to icy hands, but now the leather is torn and silent.
Their only reader is the wind. Their only audience is the quiet.
—  abandoned library // abby, day 158 // prompt for @universe-of-random-thoughts

anonymous asked:

Drabble prompt: Dinner party :)

Thanks nonnie! This went a little bit overboard but hey, it’s me. And I did canonverse!!!!




Candles burned bright, still in their infancy and Erwin wondered how far down the wicks would get tonight. Usually he would snuff the flickering glow just before it was lost in the final stub of wax, often turning to light another in the dead of night.

Today was different though. No work. Of course he’d finished it all early, never one to leave things outstanding and he rubbed at his inky fingers, trying to erase the signs of frantic scribbling and almost endless signatures, the usual cramps taking hold. It wouldn’t do to have dirty hands today.

Erwin washed up in cold water, checked his desk for the hundredth time, eyes scanning over the items to ensure they were perfectly placed. Which they were. They were the last time he looked too, but Erwin had a nervous churning in his stomach that required an answer so he complied, glancing every so often to avoid another kind of anxiety.

A light tapping at his door made Erwin jump and he grinned, probably a little bit maniacally so he toned it down, cheeks less wide and teeth no longer on show. The delicate knock could only belong to one person, a recognisable sound which Erwin had become in tune with - he was able to gauge what mood Levi was in by his knuckles alone, could adjust his own behaviour depending on the look in Levi’s eyes, his stance, how far down his shoulders had slumped.

Erwin opened the door slowly so as not to send a draught to the candles, a gentle smile meeting tired grey.

“Long day, Levi?”

“You know it was.” Levi studied Erwin, found fatigue etched into weary lines but also a lively sparkle in blue eyes, reading the man as clearly as he could be viewed in return. “What have you done?”

“Me? Oh nothing.”

There was a child-like mischief about Erwin, something Levi had only seen once before and it sent an excruciating heat through his veins, the sensation taking up residence in Levi’s stomach, rolling and lurching. He wanted it to stop, however he also craved more.

Levi tutted and swept inside, boots clicking on the hard floor as he avoided being seen, hiding in the shadows to mask the blush which rose rapidly on his pale cheeks.

That’s when he saw the reason for Erwin’s odd behaviour, breath catching in his throat. The desk usually occupied by papers and ink wells was covered in a blanket, topped by an array of foods. They were mostly standard-issue, nothing out of the ordinary, a bottle of wine easy enough to come by, however something about the presentation and care hit Levi’s emotions harder than anything he’d experienced.

Every day he stood by his Commander’s side, rode to his right during missions, spent evenings in this very room, countless hours together which he viewed as enough. Levi knew that in this life, to have such companionship was precious so he never really begrudged not being anything more, told himself that to be able to sit opposite Erwin as the candles melted away night after night was sufficient.

Levi couldn’t help but wish, though. The dreams of a madman, perhaps…either way, the yearning in his bones told the truth more than Levi’s own mind did.

Erwin fussed and shuffled around, metal lids removed from containers and plates set correctly, one candle in the middle and he straightened, arm out to invite Levi into the chair.

“Shall we?”

He might have seemed collected on the outside but Erwin was far from calm. His fingers buzzed, left leg jiggling up and down without him realising, heart in his mouth. This had been planned for weeks, no months, but he always put it off, found an excuse to shelve the idea as laughable and crawl back into his well-crafted shell. The sheer volume of death notifications this week had changed his decision.

So now Erwin found himself more afraid than when facing open jaws of terror, completely out of his comfort zone and stripped bare, sure that Levi would see through to his intentions. Wasn’t that the point, though? Nobody else had even come close to the amount of trust and faith he had in Levi, feelings that naturally had led to much much more, feelings that he couldn’t fathom. Sometimes you just had to see, he decided. Jump in head first and hope to surface on the other side.

Erwin was being watched, Levi’s gaze narrow as he circled the desk, flopping down as if this was a normal evening but the slight stiffness to his posture screamed in Erwin’s ears. Cautious. Ready to bolt. Confused.

He sat too, passing food across to Levi in as nonchalant a way as he could muster and Erwin poured two glasses of wine, holding his up and thanking the walls when Levi matched the gesture.

“To living another day.”

Erwin was about to take a drink, a long fucking drink when Levi placed his wine delicately back on the wood, arms crossed. They paused, staring with unbroken contact and Levi jutted his chin out, motioning to the small feast.

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Levi…”

“I said bullshit. This dinner party isn’t about living another day. That’s every fucking day.”

The way he spoke each word caused a stir in Erwin’s core, Levi’s sarcastic delivery not quite overshadowing the real message and he smiled, raising his glass once more. Levi followed, silent vows crossing between the two and their eyes softened, unnoticeable changes to anyone else but they knew, they knew one another inside and out and they knew what this was.

Their meal was shared in quiet reverence, occasional discussions held and glances caught like young lovers. Neither said anything direct, they didn’t have to. Behaviour and body language yelled for them instead.

Levi didn’t know how much time had passed but he could see Erwin’s exhaustion, needed to get him to sleep even for a few hours - this happened frequently, shouts and curses ordering Erwin to bed at least once a week yet that tact seemed unacceptable now and Levi stood, walking slowly round to stand behind his companion.

Erwin closed his eyes, allowing the peaceful evening to continue in whichever way Levi decided. He’d made the first step, opened that gate. It was Levi’s turn to answer.

A hand far more gentle than imagined landed like feathers on Erwin’s cheek and he sighed, too loud to go astray but Levi didn’t comment, simply held his touch, thumb on the nape of Erwin’s neck. He rubbed up and down in tiny sweeps, trembling fingers finding their place tentatively as Levi felt the weight of Erwin melt into him, relaxing back into his small hold.

They eventually came to a rest, the Commander’s head on Levi’s shirt and Erwin reached up, his own hand covering a petite one.

This was better than sleep, more rejuvenating than twelve solid hours of slumber and Levi smiled broadly, the ache in his chest swelling as he let his face drop down, nose ghosting against blonde hair.

The candle light dwindled, burnt to the base but they didn’t notice.

the-inky-fingered-sphinx  asked:

I've seen a few people confused by this, and I just wanna to clear it up. Witch!Hiccup (at least the one I dreamed up) is not sympathetic to Astrid and the gang. When his people betrayed and marred him, something broke inside Hiccup. He became completely unempathetic towards humans (kinda like what happened to furious in the books) and views them as either tools or enemies. He does develop a mutual respect for one of Astrid's other foes (who will feature in a drabble i'm writing) but that's all

Ahhhh! Okay, so “dark-timeline Hiccup” in my head.

Sorry, when you dropped the suggestion in my inbox I sorta ran away with it. My version of witch!Hiccup is very, very morally grey, and traumatized, and holds a deep anger and mistrust towards Berkians, but he doesn’t loathe all humans. It’s human behavior that he is disdainful towards, and pack ignorance, and the damage it can cause (which is why the sitings of Hiccup on a dragon are often seen with him rescuing other stake victims and saving other dragons, painting him as a bit of a villain). He’s met enough humans (most also misunderstood) to know they’re salvageable if you get them on an individual basis.

Hiccup might be tiny, but it’s his larger than life personality that made him such a huge and admirable figure in many fans’ eyes. His ability to forgive and understand and adapt. He’ll never return to Berk, but he can still spin himself into a positive influence on human-dragon relationships on the whole. Just takes a bit of therapy and time to get to that point XD

You just had to squint.

Sam would think about it in the shower sometimes. He would look down at his leg and really try to make it out. He had been eight years old and determined as hell but he still can’t believe he had convinced Dean. Sure it was faded and underneath the hair that had grown in there but he could feel its phantom throb, like a ghost.

                                                   ***

“You’re not gonna tell Dad are you?”

“Dude, if Dad knew I was letting you do this I would be the dead man, not you. Now c’mon already. You wanna do this or what?”

Sam was seated on the edge of the tub in their tiny motel bathroom, shivering as the cold porcelain chilled him through his boxers. Dean kneeled in front of him, knife poised at the ready.

“Yeah, umm … right here.” Sam pointed at a spot high on the front of his right thigh, glancing at his brother for confirmation.

Dean shifted over closer, tilting his head to get a better view in the sickly fluorescent light. He held the knife with a steady hand and lightly traced a capital letter ‘D’ about the size of a quarter.

“No De, the other way.”

“Sammy, it’s gonna be upside down when you stand up.”

“Don’t care, it’ll be right to me. I’m the only one ‘spose to look at it anyway.”

“Okay buddy last chance, you sure?”

“Positive. Come oooooon.”

“Shaddup, no whining. Now don’t move.”

Dean had sharpened his knife special just for this. He applied just enough pressure that Sam’s skin parted easily under the blade. It slipped soft and wet through layers of skin until the blood beads pooled together and dripped lazily down his inner thigh. Sam didn’t even flinch.

Dean reached for a white hand towel he had wet in the sink and wiped away the blood to get a better look at his handiwork. Then came the cheap motel pen, the one with Lonely Oaks printed on the side, the bottom pulled off with his teeth. Removing the ink tube he used the knife to slit the plastic open with surgical precision and scooped a pea sized amount into his finger. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he used his clean hand to sweep the hair out of his brother’s face as he met his eyes.

“Sammy, this is gonna be here forever.”

“Promise?” Sam beamed.

Mirroring his smile Dean dabbed the ink into the fresh cut skin and rubbed it in small deliberate circles until the exposed flesh underneath was stained. Then using the towel again he wiped away the excess until all that remained was a dark black ‘D’.

“Okay, my turn. No stoppit Sam, don’t touch it.”

Sam complied obediently as Dean lowered the toilet lid and sat. He stood to get closer and Dean batted him away.

“Dude, you’re in my light. Just wait a second.”

Sucking his lower lip into his mouth in concentration Dean began. One smooth fluid motion carved a ‘S’ into his thigh in same spot. He had made the top curve a little smaller than the bottom. Just so you could tell when he stood up, his was upside down too.

“Dean, you didn’t have to do it the exact same way you know.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

“I dunno kiddo, looks right to me.”

More rubbing, more ink mixed with blood sinking into open wounds. After a quick wipe with the towel now made black and red with ink and their blood, Dean motioned him over.

Sam dropped down and rested his chin on his brother’s knee, considering the mark for a moment. He grabbed the remnants of the pen that was discarded on the floor and dipped his finger into the last traces of ink. Pressing a flushed pink cheek to Dean’s thigh he slowly reached forward to trace an inky finger over the ‘S’ until the line was smeared in black and blood.

Sam knew the repetitive motion had to hurt but Dean didn’t say a word. His own mark had stung but it now blossomed into a burn, warm and comforting. Traveling up his leg and through the bottom of his stomach until it wrapped around his heart and filled his chest to bursting. He felt Dean’s fingers running through his hair and closed his eyes. Two boys just touching and breathing and branded together, forever.

“Okay Sammy, let’s get that covered.” Dean’s voice broke the comfortable silence and Sam raised his head reluctantly; pulling himself back up to his perch on the tub. Dean sorted through bandages in their first aid kit until he found one just the right size.

“Now it’s gonna itch, but don’t pick at it okay? You’ll ruin it and it won’t scar right. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Dean paused, his face inches from the fresh cuts. Sam held his breath and watched. His big brother, his initial. A sorry excuse for a tattoo but it was there. A little part of Dean in a little part of him. Dean closed the distance and softly pressed a kiss to the spot, holding his lips against him. Sam felt the vibration of a chuckle before he pulled back and stuck the bandage over, trapping in the warmth of his lips.

“There. Whatcha think Sammy?”

Sam just shot him another blindingly bright smile and flung himself forward, tucking his face under Dean’s chin where the soft breath of his words would tickle the skin there.

“Just you and me. That’s all we need right De?”

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and held on tight. And Sam felt surrounded in every bit of pride and protection and love he had in his touch. He tried to drown in it. Sam swallowed against the ache swelling in his chest and let Dean squeeze so hard that Sam was sure that he was gonna crush him. Sometimes he loved his Dean so much it hurt. But Sam never complained.

“You know it kiddo. You and me, come whatever.”

                                                      ***

So Sam would think about it when he got out of the shower sometimes. He would look down at his leg and really try to make it out. Dean had been twelve years old and his entire world but he still can’t believe he had gone along with it. Sure it was faded and stretched along with his skin but you could still see the gray traces of lines like a ghost. You just had to squint.

the-inky-fingered-sphinx  asked:

hey , much like my last theory , that last ask was an embarrasing thing i sent at 11PM. TBH i was a f*cking lair , i originally meant for Astrid and Eret to be grey villains and Hiccup to team up with Camicazi . And then that thing that anon sent and I was like OOOOOHHHHH SHINY!

LOL! What happens to you late at night? It’s like me when I day drink and get on Amazon.com (still remember that time I had a leg-lamp costume delivered to my house with no recollection as to why).

See, that sounds like a sweet little set up there – one with lots of book elements and Hiccami moments. That sounds hella cool!

Sadly, I’ve already got a movie-friendly version cemented in my mind where I’m kinda attached to HPo5 perspective (probably brought on from writing a certain Astrid-centric epilogue to an old fic), but I love this all, tbh. There are so many sides to this entire AU.

 Also… get ready for a line art later T_T

That Jumper

Sirius adored Remus, had done for the past year now.

He adored everything about the man. His constantly inky fingers, the way his hair forever fell into his eyes but he refused to do anything about it, the fact that he always had a book open, even if he wasn’t actually reading it. He loved the multitude of knitwear the man seemed to own. He loved how soft they always were from constant wear but, there was one jumper the wizard couldn’t stand.

Just the one, out of what could quite possibly be hundreds.

It was grey, a plain and simple grey, nothing was offensive about the shade and there was no garish pattern or design. It was what it represented. Mary Macdonald had taken up knitting and despite Sirius’ reluctance to admit it was rather adept at the craft. This said jumper was one of her creations and had she not had an obvious crush on the man for whom she knitted Sirius wouldn’t have had an issue with it but, she was his competition and he didn’t like that.

The jumper was frustratingly adorable on Remus, the sleeves were too long and it was far too wide swamping him in that cuddly sort of way. Sirius hated it.

There had been no proof that Remus was even interested in the witch, or had even noticed that the witch admired him. He didn’t show her any extra attention and seemed completely oblivious to any attention she seemed to show him.

She wasn’t the one who had the man sneak into his bed when he was cold and, let her lay her head in his lap in front of the fire whilst he read. She wasn’t the one who he spent time with helping her through her essays late into the night, or the one whom he shared his secret chocolate stash with. No that was Sirius. Yet despite this, Sirius was still completely clueless as to whether there was anything more to the wolf’s actions or if this was just simply natural Remus behaviour and, despite being a Gryffindor, Sirius was far too terrified to find out, the thought of rejection hurt too much.

It was a typical Hogsmeade weekend in April when Sirius’ opinion on that mentioned jumper changed.

Despite the pleasant warm spring weather Remus chose to wear that jumper, putting Sirius in a rather foul mood almost instantly. He proceeded to sulk for the majority of the day, only cheering up briefly when Remus shared his favourite dark chocolate with him once they had left Honeydukes. Though that happiness was only short lived when the overly soft long sleeve of that jumper unrolled over Remus’ hand and it brushed over Sirius’ in all its wonderfully soft goodness.

He stormed off at that point in a rather childish manner, confusing them all and leading Remus to believe that he had done something to upset him. Remus of course followed and Sirius chose to ignore the heavy footsteps marching behind in attempt to catch him up.

“Pads, slow down, will you? What did I do?” Remus called out breathlessly as they ascended the hill leading back towards the school.

“Just leave it, will you?” he shouted back over his shoulder just as Remus’ hand clasped around his wrist and pulled him to a stop.

“What on earth is wrong with you? What did I do to upset you so much?” Sirius’ heart almost broke when he cast sight on the hurt and worried eyes in the face of the wizard he wished was his. Cursing himself inside when he realised that it was his fault and his jealousy that was to blame.

Taking a leap of faith he chose to be honest “I hate that jumper,” he almost shouted. The declaration taking Remus by surprise.

“What?” he asked, confusion evident in his voice.

“I hate it, it’s too big for you and, too soft and it too bloody warm to be wearing it,” Sirius shouted out gesturing to the now cloudy sky, oblivious the clap of thunder that sounded overhead, or the way Remus was now smiling at him.

“You’re in a mood because my jumper is too soft and too big?” he asked, his smile still in place.

“And because it’s too warm,” Sirius muttered, ignoring the fact that now there were large and heavy raindrops falling around them.

“Pad’s, it’s raining and, you’re shivering,” said Remus, pulling Sirius closer, his hand still grasping his wrist “come here.”

Sirius tried to control his breathing as Remus lifted the hem of his jumper and pulled it over his head trapping them both inside the overly large knitwear. Try as he might Sirius was unable to deny that the way Remus’ body felt push up against his as he were trapped against it was pure bliss. His arms rested by his sides, when really all he wanted to do was place them on Remus chest and feel the hardness of his body beneath his fingers, revealing in all things that were simply just Remus.

His breath caught in his throat when Remus’ hand reached up and tucked his now damp hair behind his ear “Now, how about you tell me what this is really about,” said Remus as he rested his forehead against Sirius’.

Thinking it was either now or never Sirius told the truth “She made it,” he tried to sound confident, but his voice broke when he realised just how vulnerable this admission made him.

“Mary?” asked Remus confused.

When Sirius nodded shyly raindrops dripping off the ends off his hair, Remus couldn’t help the smile from blossoming over his face and encouraging Sirius to meet his eye “You’re jealous over Mary making me this?” he asked gesturing to the jumper they were now nestled in, though he was fairly certain he knew the answer.

Sirius didn’t answer diverting his face back down towards the floor, feeling far too vulnerable at that moment.

“I like you jealous,” that certainly got his attention. His face shot up to meet Remus’ beaming face smiling down at him, bringing his hand up once more to cup Sirius’ face and ran his thumb along his perfect cheekbone his eyes, locking in on Sirius’.

“Do you?” he asked shyly, wondering where on earth was the overly cocky and confident Sirius when he needed him.

Remus didn’t saying anything else, he simply just used his free arm to pull Sirius’ body flush up against his and, his fingers snake round and slide into his now soaking wet hair guiding his face close to his own as he nodded in conformation.

Sirius was almost quite certain that his heart stopped beating the moment Remus’ lips met his own and, then most definitely certain that it had when his tongue grazed against his, quite literally sucking the breath right out of him.

The two stood there as the rain poured down hard around them, lost in one another as Remus staked his claim on Sirius’ lips and Sirius happily let him until they had to break free from one another for lack of air.

Smiling brightly at one another Remus asked “Still hate the jumper?” brushing another soft kiss upon Sirius’ lips.

“Am I yours?” he asked, now placing his hands where they had been itching to be upon Remus chest.

“Mine. And I’m yours,” Remus whispered against Sirius’ lips.

“Then I think I quite like this jumper now,” he replied, moving his hands from where they were and around Remus holding on to him tightly.