thrill power

exchanges (m)

Summary: In which Jeon Jungkook is that friendly neighborhood superhero, you’re the face in the hallway that saved his high school career, and he can’t ever seem to get a grip around you. Even when he makes you scream after a fated accident—not for the reason you may be thinking; get the thought out of your head! 
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader 
Genre: Fluff/Smut; Spiderman AU 
Word Count: 14,838
Author’s Note: Honestly though, it was only a matter of time before I got around to writing a story like this. I am obsessed with Spiderman, so this might just be the foundational guideline for many future Jungkook Spiderman AU drabbles to come in the future. 

The story was also heavily inspired by this photo that made me cry for seven days and seven nights. +photo credit !!!!!!!

.

(the present)

If Jeon Jungkook is against anything in his life, it’s one’s ability to exaggerate certain situations or problems to make those things seem much bigger than they probably were. Well, actually, take that back. It’s not that he’s against it per say, it’s just that his peer’s daily struggles of pop quizzes and missing the morning bus aren’t exactly headliner news—especially in comparison to what he has to go through.

Jeon Jungkook is against exaggeration, probably because he can’t get away with it himself. It’s not that he doesn’t like to exchange his fair share of embellished stories or fabricated events weaved into true experiences, it’s that he can’t afford to do so. Sharing stories of his nightly routines and dashing superhero adventures may seem great, but only if he could manage the burden of a personal life and a masked life intertwining.

As an 18-year-old boy, he can probably say it’s safe to assume that he cannot. Manage the overwhelming, opposite pressure both of his lives take him, that is. It’s difficult enough being a college freshman, a tiny fish in an ocean of whales and sharks, but throw in his late night Spiderman facade would be too much of a tale to share with other people and peers who probably ask too many questions and know too much about him. He’s never liked the exposure that comes with being in the spotlight, and he can’t hide behind his mask if people knew who he was.

Oh. Right. Speaking of his Spiderman facade, that’s who is he. Haven’t heard of him? You know, the dashing hero of Seoul, red and blue spandex attire with a web shooter, fine tuned senses and amazingly quick reflexes? The boy who swings around the city, volunteering for trouble and always coming out right on top? The boy who constantly maintains that casual, slightly amused tone throughout a majority of his rescues?

Yeah, well, that’s Jungkook.

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Gary Cooper and Helen Hayes in a publicity photo for the pre-Code drama A Farewell to Arms  (Frank Borzage, 1932)

“Not only the best film version of a Hemingway novel, but also one of the most thrilling visions of the power of sexual love… No other director created images like these, using light and movement like brushstrokes, integrating naturalism and a daring expressionism in the same shot. This is romantic melodrama raised to its highest degree.” - Time Out London

then and now…

  • Tumblr: We demand female characters who are proud of their bodies and confident in their sexuality! Stop suppressing women's sexuality and agency in fiction!
  • Female Character: *is proud of their body, confident in their sexuality, is in no way suppressed, and has full agency*
  • Tumblr: STOP OBJECTIFYING WOMEN! THIS IS MISOGYNY AND SEXIST!

anonymous asked:

Who do you think would be the best at eating someone out ? I wanna hear your opinion on this !

yoongi, taehyung, jimin = the top 3, in my humble opinion.

they’ve all got the tongues for it (length wise and they just can’t keep their goddamn fucking mouths shut like??? we get it?? you want to eat everyone out we KNOW) and, like, yoongi?

  • yoongi could probably just hold his breath and dive in for a good minute, to two minutes, without needing to even come up for air. every single second he had, he’d make count, and god, would you feel it everywhere. his fingers would come into play, too, just to spread you out as far as he can - he’ll spit on you a little, get messy and go slow just when you need him to go faster, because teasing is fun and fucking hot and there’s nothing that satisfies him much more than hearing you beg
  • jimin? jimin seems like he’d absolutely be the arrogant/subservient type, all wrapped up into one? he’d get a massive kick out of making and watching you cum and then having you push his face back down (imagine him moaning into you and panting when you let him come up for air????? just…Imagine……It) - and he’s a bed-grinder, pushes his cock against the bed / sofa / his own hand, whatever’s available; getting messier and more out-of-control as his own pleasure grows
  • taehyung - sweet, playful, even a little silly, until he just isn’t. then he’s pinning you to the bed by your hips, pumping you open with his fingers - slowly, so fucking slowly, watching the way you push yourself against his hand; a mixture of fascination and amusement and the thrill of a power trip in the making. he’ll tease you, have you aching for him, for anything; shaking and saying please and just as you break, he’s between your legs and he’s so eager you almost forget the way he looked at you when you told him you were his, all his, and you’d do anything for him to just use his mouth on you
Home, Sick

For one of the most amazing writers on Tumblr, @funkzpiel . Also I thought I was being clever playing on “homesick” and “home sick” for “I’m at home, sick” so yeah. I’m really bad at titles. Sue me (don’t, really).


It’s a Monday when Percival Graves falls ill, not that he admits that. His nose is runny and itches horribly, his throat is scratchy, and his eyes keep watering to the point he looks like he’s in constant tears. Because he’s not. Crying, that is, or sick. He doesn’t get sick. Anyone who says he gets sick is getting fired. When Percival walks into the Major Investigations Department, leaning a little more heavily onto his cane (which he won’t admit he needs whilst his knee is healing from the Grindelwald fiasco, but really no one is surprised he’s being so bull-headed) and with perspiration lining his paler than usual face, his people immediately look to the schedule they have drawn up on the whiteboard. They call it the “Percival Graves care chart”, and they each take turns to try to get the director to admit he’s sick and try to get him to go home. They don’t always succeed, and sometimes it takes a combination of cajoling from several people and threats from Madame Picquery that she’s placing him on house arrest to get the man to, very grudgingly, concur that he’s not feeling well and needs rest. Their current success rate is at a 5 to 2; the 2 failures were when two Aurors, on two separate occasions, thought they could take the director on in a duel. They ended up being sent to the medical wing, each suffering a nasty concussion and a warning letter to never, ever challenge Percival to a duel again. Ever.

It’s Auror Goldstein’s turn today to try and get Percival to go home and rest, and she groans when her colleagues give her pats on the back and murmuring their sympathy, although she knows they’re all secretly relieved it’s not their turn. Because of course it would be her turn just when Newt was back in London. Of course it would be her turn when their sure fire backup plan can’t work because there’s no Newt to back them up. Not that Percival gives in that easily to Newt; the man is determined to prove his Aurors wrong when he hears about this supposed theory that Newt is able to get him to do things no one else can. Because Newt can’t. Percival does things because he wants to, not because Newt bats his blue eyes and those freckles look oh so charming and – No. Percival Graves does not submit to Newt Scamander. Or anyone.

Anyway. Tina squares her shoulders and readies her wand before she goes into Percival’s office, just in case. It’s a good three hours of shouting and banging and wincing from the Aurors (Madame Picquery’s made an appearance to remind them she’s not dealing with the paperwork that comes from either person killing the other on a Monday) before they both emerge. Tina’s breathing heavily with disheveled clothes, dragging a barely conscious Percival by the collar. He’s using what little coherence he has left to grumble at Tina -you’ll be stuck in Wand Permits for the rest of unintelligible slurs- but Tina has zero fucks to give. She forces him into his coat and makes him stand properly so they can leave the Woolworth building with his dignity still in- Mr Graves I swear to god if you don’t stop whining, you’re going to explain to everyone why you’re hog tied and floating through the entire building. He shuts up, not entirely, but enough that she can properly Apparate them to his fancy apartment without splinching them. Because Newt is a mother bear and frankly, she’d rather take on an angry Percival and not an angry Newt and his band of creatures, who’ve come to be ridiculously protective of Percival.

Percival’s half gone by the time she gets the door open and the wards disarmed, and she’s grateful because at least he’s not fighting her tooth and nail. She’s gentler now, coaxing the tired man to remove his shoes before helping him into his room. He’s at least cognizant enough to change into more comfortable sweatpants, leaving his upper torso bare, to which Tina blushes because he’s her boss and he has a rather attractive chest, sculpted but not overly so, with a sprinkle of greying hairs and several scars. She busies herself by Summoning several blankets but doesn’t magic them on and around him. One by one, she wraps the layers of blankets around the drowsy man, snug enough that he feels warm but not too tight that he might suffocate. She nearly coos when only the top of his head is visible from the blanket wrap she made, but refrains and lowers him onto the bed. He’s out before she’s even done, and she tenderly brushes his now loose hair away from his face. He looks softer, less severe and the perpetual lines on his face are lighter. She thinks he looks terribly snuggleble (neither Tina nor the writer are sure if this is even a word) and that Newt’s presence in his life might have something to do with it.  

Newt’s not due to be back for another day, and Percival makes her promise, under pain of death and the loss of her job, that she’d not contact the magizoologist and call him away from his duties. So Tina stays for the day, and Queenie joins her. He wakes up several times, during which either sister is always on hand to make sure he drinks enough water and eats the warm soup Queenie’s prepared. He barely speaks 10 words to them, communicating with grunts and occasional growls but Queenie isn’t as deterred by his crabbiness as her sister is.  She merely offers him her usual bubbly smile and she catches fragments of thoughts which feel like grudging acceptance and a hum of contentedness underneath the sick and the grump. She even spies a tiny smile when she’s singing whilst cleaning up the clutter in his home. The blonde thinks it’s a nice smile, and tells him so. She thinks the shy Percival that emerges then is her favourite and pecks him on the cheek. The spot where she kisses him is bright red and so is his entire face.

Percival makes the Goldstein sisters go to work the next day, and insist that he’ll be fine alone. They aren’t convinced, but his fever has gone down and he’s well enough to bark orders at them, so they go to work, leaving abundant supplies of warm meals and instructions to call them because good grief Mr Graves, if Newt comes home to find your dead body, I’ll tell your corpse I told you so. He’s strangely touched at the care they’ve shown him, and he makes a note to put in Tina’s name for a promotion that’s coming up next month, and to send Queenie an order of baked goods from that No-Maj bakery downtown that she seems to love. He’ll deny these accusations when they ask him about it, after Tina gets her promotion and Queenie is surprised by a Mr Kowalski delivering the baked goods to her, but Tina offers him a bright smile now whenever she passes him and Queenie gives him the best coffee ever every day, so he thinks he’s not as successful at hiding his actions as he thinks he is.

Newt comes home in the evening, tired after a long journey and ready to cuddle with Percival, when he notices the apartment is deathly quiet, and Pickett is chittering about a smell of sickness in their home. Cautiously, wand out, the red-head makes way to their bedroom, with Pickett nervously peeking from the top of his pocket, leafy limbs swaying. There’s the muffled sound of cursing coming from inside the room, which confuses the man because isn’t Perce supposed to be at work now? He throws the door open, and is greeted by the sight of Percival Graves sprawled on the floor, blankets pooling around his legs. The sight is both adorable and confusing at the same time, even more so when Percival’s swearing becomes louder and he switches between English and something that sounds like Gaelic.

Newt, being Newt, blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. He’s not entirely sure why he says that, either.

“Oh, hello.”

Said swearing stops, and Percival cranes his neck upwards to take in the lanky form of his partner. He blinks, then tries to stand up. It’s a testament to his sheer bullheadedness that he manages to get halfway upright before wobbling and pitching forward, and it’s a good thing Newt’s limbs are long enough that he catches the falling man before his face meets the floor. Percival thus finds his face buried, somewhat uncomfortably, in the soft woolen material of Newt’s coat. His familiar scent of light sweat, his creatures and the fresh sting of grass, courtesy of Pickett no doubt, tickles Percival’s nose and makes him feel slightly better about being found face down on the floor.

He attempts a smile, which is so pathetic that Newt feels something in him melt, and on one hand, he just wants to cuddle his sick partner and nurse him to health. But sick Percival is a very rare occurrence and really, quite an adorable sight, and a (very small) sadistic part of Newt is thrilled that the normally powerful and unflappable man is so helpless and has to rely on him, and frankly, the little pout on Percival’s lips makes Newt wish he stays sick, if only so the pout stays. That’s not a very Newt-like thought though, so he quickly shakes it off and helps the sick man untangle his feet from the blankets and back to bed. That’s a thought he’ll be saving for the next time they’re both feeling adventurous. And not sick.

He’s tucking the blankets snugly around Percival and leaving to get some warm soup, when his partner catches him by the hand, and with a surprising amount of force, pulls him down for a kiss that’s at once sweet and soft and demanding. The red-head is blinking owlishly when Percival lets him go, a devilish grin on his still tired face. Despite his previous thoughts about Percival being at his mercy, Newt is blushing furiously at how dominant the other man is being, and he stammers an excuse before rushing off to the kitchen, long limbs nearly flailing. The older man snorts and smiles indulgently as he settles back into the pillows; that’ll teach Newt to leave him alone for so long (even though Newt’s been pacifying him since before he left, really Percival, it’s only 3 days you big baby! No, I have to leave n- STOP IT YOU KNOW I’M TICKLISH THERE). He sighs blissfully at the soothing sounds of clanging pots and pans and Newt’s rich tenor voice floating in from the kitchen, and his eyes flutter close as Newt’s singing about castles and rolling fields and going home and the last coherent thought he has before dropping off to sleep is that he’s glad he’s found his home in Newt.

Newt returns to their bedroom, warm soup and bread in hand when he’s greeted by the sight of Dougal curling around Percival’s head, the latter snoring peacefully as the Demiguise carefully grooms him. Dougal turns his bright yellow eyes at Newt and huffs softly, as if reminding the lanky man not to disturb Percival’s sleep. He’s always had a soft spot for Percival, sensing the hurt festering within the broken man after MACUSA managed to rescue him from Grindelwald. In a way, he was the one who initiated the relationship between Percival and Newt; the magizoologist was visiting Tina after she was reinstated as an Auror when Dougal forced his way out of the suitcase and leapt straight at a very surprised Percival. Their first meeting thus consisted of Percival trying to coax the determined Demiguise to relax his grip on his neck, not knowing if he should laugh or yell at Newt, and Newt mumbling an apology for Dougal’s behaviour.

Setting aside the soup on the nightstand with a stasis spell to keep it warm, Newt climbs into bed with Percival and Dougal, who carefully climbs over to the other side to accommodate Newt’s presence. Pickett, who’s still in his friend’s pocket, climbs out and nestles itself in Dougal’s warm fur, and Newt, still tired from his journey back from London, is lulled into Morpheus’s arms by the gently crooning of his Demiguise and Percival’s warmth. It’s really the best feeling ever, being home, and even though Percival’s hair tickles his nose and his snores are a little louder because of his stuffed nose, Newt thinks he’d not rather be anywhere than here.

No pouting Percy

Newt when he sees Dougal cuddling with Percival

Which book would you jump into?


The Book Jumper by Mechthild Gläser

Amy Lennox doesn’t know quite what to expect when she and her mother pick up and leave Germany for Scotland, heading to her mother’s childhood home of Lennox House on the island of Stormsay.

Amy’s grandmother, Lady Mairead, insists that Amy must read while she resides at Lennox House—but not in the usual way. It turns out that Amy is a book jumper, able to leap into a story and interact with the world inside. As thrilling as Amy’s new power is, it also brings danger: someone is stealing from the books she visits, and that person may be after her life. Teaming up with fellow book jumper Will, Amy vows to get to the bottom of the thefts—at whatever cost.

Hard Headed

Prompt: Imagine overworking your powers because you’re afraid of disappointing Charles, bu because of that, you collapse when working with him

Pairing: Charles x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, probably

Notes: Thank you to @marvel-imagines-marvel-fandoms for inspiring me and letting me use these! And not beta’d so if it sucks, that’s why. Thank you for reading!

————-

Laying in the warm sun on an open patch of the garden, with your eyes closed, you let your mind drift. You didn’t think about all the assignments due by the end of the week, how you missed your family, how your powers were enough to make you a freak but not enough to do anything. Every other student at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was amazing. Everyone had a special power or mutation that made them helpful, powerful…meaningful. And here you were, a simple telepath with weak electricity manipulation. You could barely guess the number someone was thinking when they asked you to nor could you barely get a spark going. Your powers were found out when a guy pushed you in a pool a year ago in your second year of college and the thrill jolted your powers, causing everyone in the pool to be electrocuted. They were okay but you weren’t–you’d never be the same after that moment. The juice wasn’t strong enough to hurt anyone badly, just enough to jounce them.

Being that you were a telepath, the head professor, Charles Xavier, took to training you. It was the most daunting task you’d ever faced. He was handsome, clever, incredibly gifted and intelligent, and you were somehow supposed to focus on your weak powers around him. Charles had discovered that your telepath powers came at a much younger age but you didn’t realize it. All this time you thought knowing the things you did were commonplace. You always knew what you were getting for Christmas or for your birthday or what really happened to that pet goldfish of yours. You thought you just had an uncanny ability to tell when people were lying, but the actuality of it was you could some how feel the truth in their thoughts.

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Home - A Sirius Black Imagine

Here it is, sorry it took me so long! <3

Disclaimer : okay, YES, it’s written at the first person. I understand it’s not for everybody and it’s different from what I usually do. But I felt like writing it this way!;

Warnings : Some cursing, but mostly some angst and some fluff. 

Masterlist

I’m not in the mood for anything today. I look at the time and minutes seems like hours. You could tell I’m bored but I think I’m just worried. About everything and anything.
There are rumours. The tension at the Ministry of Magic it’s at its worst. Everybody is divided. The Dark Lord have returned?
Nobody believe it.
Or nobody doesn’t want to believe.
I don’t know what is the difference anymore. I used to believe some things that weren’t true. And I used to discard some truths.
So, I feel like I don’t want to get involved. Not yet.
But there’s something wrong, I know it. I’m giving up. I just need to get some fresh air. I can’t focus on anything.
When I get home, there’s a few pile of mail next to my door. I roll my eyes.
My parents are probably worried about me. But I don’t feel like writing to them right now. I just want to be left alone.
I remember the last time I saw them. It was two years ago, I think.
‘You sure you are okay honey?’
‘Yes, mum. I’m fine.’
'But he’s out and I know he broke your heart!’

My mum never had it when it came to reassuring me. Nor my dad.
'I wonder how that deranged man escaped. I always told you he was trouble, that Sirius Black!’
I sigh. Not writing back today.
I feel like there’s this heavy weight on my shoulders. I’m useless.
There’s a knock on the door.
Who the hell could it be? 


I open it. My boss, Alastor Moody, is standing right in front of me. I’d be afraid if I didn’t know him. He’s pretty scary looking. But he’s a fine man.
'Y/L/N, care to explain to me why you left early? I wanted to talk to you.’
I roll my eyes and open the door for him to enter the house. He steps in it but doesn’t go far.
'Well, I’m here now. What did you want to tell me?’
'We should sit’ he says, pointing to the living room.
I’m so not in the mood. If he tells me I need to track down some bloody alleged Death Eaters, I think I’m going to boil with rage.
'You’ve been hearing about what’s been going on lately, you know that the Dark Lord is back.’
'Oh, cut the crap, Moody. I told you I didn’t want to do anything about it until proven!’
'You'are an Auror, Y/L/N, god damn it!’ he shouts at me. 'You should be concerned. What’s going on with you?’
I sigh. I don’t know what to say.
'Maybe I shouldn’t have became an Auror.’
His face twists with anger. I know he tries very hard to not scream at me.
'You are a brilliant woman, Y/N, you’re quick, you’re smart and you’re great at what you do. Your powers are thrilling. But you need to set your game straight again.’
'I’m just tired, okay?’
He shrugs.
'I didn’t only came to see how you felt. There’s something you need to know and… you can’t refuse. We need you with us.’
I frown my eyebrows.
'We’ve been gathering some people lately-’
'Gathering?’
'Let me finish. I’ve been putting a sort of team together, to be prepared if the time comes when we need to fight the evil-’
'What are you talking about Moody?’
He looks at me seriously.
'I wish you to come with me tonight, there’s a reunion at our quarters.’
'Your quarters? Does the Ministry knows you’ve been doing that?’ I ask, shocked.
He shakes his head. 


'They wouldn’t approve, you know it. But come with me tonight, you’ll know what’s going on better if you see everybody.’
'Merlin, Moody, do you know in which position you’re putting me? What if we get caught?’
'We won’t. Just follow me.’
'Right now?’
I’m so mad. I don’t want to follow him. But he’s my boss. But I don’t want to go against the ministry, even if I know there’s something going on that is beyond what they expect. We disapparate in front of my door to reapparate to a place I’m not sure I ever saw before.
'Where are we?’ I ask.
He doesn’t answer. He just freaking knock on the ground and the whole street starts shaking.
Okay they’re really organized. That’s some deep magic. Hiding a place that way means they used a secret keeper. They really don’t want to be discovered by the wrong people…
A house appears between two others, it’s gloomier than the other ones. It’s not inviting at all.
We step on the porch. Moody glances at me, looking embarrassed.
'I need to tell you one more thing’ he says, almost whispering. 'You know I don’t care about any of your little love stories, but there’s somebody inside that house, well, the house belongs to him, that might make you feel like running your way back outside. But be smart, don’t run. Just hear him out.’
Before I can even realize what he just said, he opens the door and pushes me inside. I hear him shutting the door behind us as I try to adjust my eyes to the darkness of the hall.
If outside I thought it was dreary, nothing compares to the way it’s cold inside. The place is in poor condition. I can hear voices at the end of the hall. I turned away to look at Moody. He shakes his arms, telling me to start walking.
'Moody, before I go in there, just tell me where the hell I am-’
'Shh’ he whispers. 'Don’t talk until we’re past the curtains.’
He points to me the wall where velvet curtains seems to be hiding something.
Odd. I’m too irritated to wait for an answer.
'Merlin’s Moody, I swear if you don’t tell me-’
'STAINS OF DISHONOUR, BLOOD TRAITORS!’ screams a voice in front of me.
I look at the portrait, spitting at me with pure disdain. The woman in the painting looks enraged.
I hear movement in front of me and my heart jumps in my chest. I feel like running to the door but somebody prevents me to do so. I try to escape Moody’s arms as I reach for my wand. The cacophony of all the people moving around me and the screams from the painting is unbearable.
'Let me go!’ I shout to Moody but he’s stronger than I am. I finally grab my wand and point it at him. He steps few feet away. 


'What is this?’ I say, pointing my wand at everybody. 'Where the hell am I? Why am I here in the first place?’
I point my wand at faces I haven’t seen in a long time. Nymphadora Tonks, one of my colleagues, tries to calm me down.
'Y/N it’s okay, you’re not in danger.’
But I can’t look at her. I’m only staring at him. He haven’t really changed. He has still the same silver eyes. He looks older, but aren’t we all? My gaze moves to the man standing behind him. I never thought I would see him again as well. Not standing beside Sirius. Remus Lupin is trying to reassure me with his peaceful expression.
'Y/N’ he says, but I point my wand at him. 'I know that’s a lot to take on but we thought you wouldn’t come if you knew he was going to be here. We need to talk to you.’
'I have nothing to say to you’ I shout, shaking with rage.
'Y/N, it wasn’t me’ whispers Sirius with a cracked voice.
The sound of it makes me feel weak. How much time has it been since I heard it?
I can’t tell anymore. I thought I didn’t forget the sound of it. But I was wrong, wasn’t I?
'Just… come and sit with us?’ asks Remus, pointing at the room behind them. 'We made some tea and there’s butterbeer if you want some…’
'I just want to leave.’
Moody pats my shoulder. 


'Come on Y/N, let’s talk, just you and I. Sirius, mind if I use the drawing room?’ says Remus.
Sirius nods and point the room to his left. I try to not look at him while I go inside. Still shaking, I sit on the tiny couch next to me. Remus sits in front of me.
'I know you’re mad-’
'You don’t say.’
He sighs.
'He’s innocent, Y/N. He didn’t do it. It was Peter.’
My face is blank.
'Do you honestly think I am mad because I thought he did it, Remus?’ I say, feeling tears coming to my eyes. 'I am freaking angry at him because he got himself in all that mess, because he didn’t think for a second about anyone than himself! Because he just ran to his own loss! He spoiled everything.’
I’m crying right now and I hate myself for it. I swore I would never cry because of Sirius ever again.
Remus hesitates, then touch my knee.
'Let him talk to you maybe?’
I shake my head.
'I can’t.’
But Sirius is already in the room. I close my eyes. I want to punch him in the face. I want to scream at him, how much he made me miserable. How much he fucked everything up. 


I hear Remus getting up and leaving the room, while Sirius sits in front of me.
'Y/N look at me’ he says.
But I can’t. I just can’t.
'I know this is a lot, believe me, when I heard Moody wanted to bring you here I thought… I was so nervous.’
I can’t face him. I can’t do that.
'But I’m so relieved to see you… You look good.’
I finally turn and face him.
You look good? Really Sirius? We don’t see each other for over than a decade and you tell me you look good?’
He scoffs.
'Damn it, Black. You haven’t changed at all.’
He wipes my tears away and smile. My heart melts.
I never forgot him, did I? After all this time and here I am, feeling like a teenager again, like the first time we ever kissed.
'Some things never change’ he replies, taking my chin between his fingers.
I look down.
'You can’t do that’ I tell him.
'Do what?’
'You just can’t erase all those years by sweet talking to me. Do you know how it felt? Did you ever thought about me? How I had to cope without you? How I had to forget everything we had planned for our future because of your recklessness?’
He frowns his eyebrows.
'You, you, you! What about me? Do you think I was happy there? I was miserable Y/N! Knowing I was thrown away for something I didn’t do! I had just lost my best friend and his wife, but I knew that their son, the one I swore I would protect with my life, was now on his own? Did you think about that? About the dementors surrounding Azkaban day and night, making me relive over and over again that horrible night when James and Lily were killed? Making me think about the fact I would never get to talk to you again? Underfed and poorly dressed, knowing that everybody I cared for thought I was a murderer? What did you have to do? Go back and live with your parents? To your poor spoiled little life?’
My jaw falls. 


'Excuse me? You did this to yourself! YOU ran after Peter, YOU decided to fight him before the Aurors came there! YOU left me!’
He shakes his head.
'You can’t blame me for living my life while you were away! I thought I had lost you forever! Then I hear that you escaped. You didn’t even tried to write to me!’
'I wanted you to be happy! I didn’t want to show up into your life again and wreck your existence!’
'You wrecked it the minute you left that flat of yours to chase Peter, Sirius!’
I was in full tears now. I knew everybody was probably hearing us quarrelling.
'And I am sorry, you know I am, are you?’ he said, stepping in front of me.
I threw myself in his arms and pressed my body on his.
'I missed you so much’ I said, crying in his arms.
'I missed you too, love. How did I miss you’ he replied, sliding his long fingers in my hair.
He put my face up in his hands and stared longly into my eyes. I pressed my lips on his.
It felt like home.