Hello I Am Wondering If You Are Anti Jegulus In The 'just Not My Thing' Way Or Anti Jegulus In The 'jegulus

Don’t worry, all, the parent AU is in the works :)

I’ll definitely do my best to get oneshots up at least once a month while I’m writing this, though!

I love writing oneshots and that’s most of what I post buuuut I’m currently simultaneously working on 2 big stories/series (story 1 in series 1 is 65 chapters, story 1 in series 2 is 30 chapters).

The first is a MASSIVE werewolf!Sirius AU featuring lots of angst in the past and some less severe angst in the present that follows him from fourth year to adulthood (guys it’s literally huge). The second is a Sirius-is-a-father AU with, again, a shit tonne of angst, both past and present, that has a big focus on recovery. Both feature WolfStar, big Marauders friend-group stuff, and Sirius and Regulus being close (I know right? I started plotting them a while back, which I hope is a sufficient explanation).

Which one would you guys prefer I work on first? I’m gonna get both of them up eventually, of course, but I struggle to stay focused on one thing for long periods of time so I’m gonna take a break between them.

Jokes on you, he crochets as well

Sirius: “No I’m normal everyone thinks Remus is the hottest person alive”

Remus: excuses himself from a party after 10 minutes bc he wants to go knit. Wearing the most heinous jumper even your grandfather would shy away from. Blacks out after one (1) beer. Dies if someone makes eye contact with him. Sits awkwardly in the corner trying not to cry when he has to stay in a party for too long (fails every time). Bones pop 87 times every time he stands up. Cannot sit on the floor or he will need to be picked up bc his back is so bad. Asks Sirius + James + Peter to kiss his booboos bc his mummy used to do it and it made it feel better. Always has at least 3 books on him but needs Sirius to carry them bc he’s too weak. Hates smoking bc he’s worried about cancer. Very awkward. Loser.

Werewolf Sirius and Remus on the full moon!

This is for an AU I’m still working on and will be publishing on AO3 soon enough :) there is reasons that Sirius is more scarred

Casually falling in love with this

Drift

Sirius burst into the Gryffindor dormitory after detention and nearly fainted.  

“Moony…” Sirius stammered, his voice cracking. “That’s…that’s mine.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Remus yawned. He was curled up on Sirius’s bed wearing a pair of red plaid pajama bottoms, gray wool socks and…

And Sirius’s quidditch jersey.

“But…” Sirius’s tongue felt heavy and his brain felt sluggish. He couldn’t make words. He could barely make coherent thoughts.

“Sorry, do you want me to take it off?” Remus asked, sitting up slowly and moving to pull the jersey over his head.

“No!” Sirius said, practically diving across the bed at him. He didn’t know what would be worse for his predicament, seeing Remus in his jersey or seeing Remus without his jersey.

“I just was so tired after my shower,” Remus said sleepily, snuggling back onto Sirius’s pillow. “I couldn’t find my pajama shirt, and your jersey was right on your bed, so I put it on. Then I laid down, and I think I fell asleep, and…I hope you don’t mind.”

Whether or not Sirius “minded” was not really the problem. The problem was how cute Remus looked with the oversized jersey slipping off his shoulder, his fingers just poking out of the too-long sleeves, and the name “BLACK” emblazoned across his back. The problem was how Sirius’s pillow would smell like Remus’s woodsy scent of tea and moss and parchment, and the drowsy rasp of his voice making little shots of electricity fire up Sirius’s spine.

Normally Remus was all sharp sarcasm, standoffish mischief, and dry jokes, but in the days before the full moon, he was constantly exhausted and could drift off to sleep anywhere. His friends joked that he could probably sleep through a dementor attack. The Marauders would often find him curled up asleep in ridiculous spots, like the curve of the stairway up to the dormitory or on a window ledge in Gryffindor tower with his face planted in a book, and Sirius and James would take turns scooping him up and depositing him onto his bed.

Sirius had diligently ignored the bubbling, fizzy feeling he got in his stomach whenever Remus nestled his head into Sirius’s shoulder when he carried him across the dorm or when Remus laughed at one of his jokes at the lunch table. Remus was his friend, a Marauder, and there was no way—no way at all—he’d think about Sirius in any other way.

But now Remus was all adorable in Sirius’s quidditch shirt, laying on his bed, and now he was—no, Merlin, this was terrible—he was motioning for Sirius to come over.

“Spoon me,” he demanded through a yawn.

This was another thing that happened to Remus before the full moon. His usual “don’t touch me, don’t look at me” demeanor melted into a need for constant cuddles. It was James who usually obliged, and Sirius knew it was partly because James was essentially a hug in human form and partly to spare Sirius the mortification of having to snuggle the boy he was trying not to be in love with.

But now, James was in a separate detention with Peter, and Remus was pulling Sirius by the wrist onto the bed, and Sirius had no choice but to kick off his shoes, slot his knees behind Remus’s, and let his arm be dragged across Remus’s waist. Remus sighed contentedly, and Sirius felt the sweet little sound vibrate through his chest, making his skin tingle.

“Can I just sleep here tonight?” Remus mumbled into the pillow. “You’re a better cuddler than James or Pete.”

“Sure, Moony, whatever you need,” Sirius whispered, kissing the back of his head before he even realized what he was doing.

“Tomorrow, too, then,” Remus hummed back.

Well, Sirius thought, it’s official. I am truly screwed.

Written for the @wolfstarmicrofic prompt, "drift"

Sirius Black who gets angry when he’s in 12 Grimmauld Place.

He’s just gotten out of Azkaban, just found a place he can rest after being on the run, so no one blames him when he’s a little bit fidgety and strange.

It’s incredibly odd when he flat-out refuses to sleep in his childhood bedroom, but everyone has at least an inkling that his childhood may not have been perfect, so they go with it with little argument. That doesn’t stop the confusion, though.

“I’d kill to have a night in my childhood bedroom, especially if my parents never changed it!” “It would be like being a kid again; no responsibilities, just time to relax!” “It’d be like going right back to your younger years, who doesn’t want that?”

Sirius leaves when they talk about it. They get the hint.

Then he starts to get angry. He starts to change. He starts becoming quiet and abrasive.

At first, it’s little things. He lets out an incredibly aggravated sound when he tears his breath while buttering it. He snaps at Kreacher when the elf mutters under his breath. He runs his fingers through his hair hard enough to pull some out. He eats less. He drinks two glasses of wine instead of one.

Then it gets less small. The people in the room right under his are woken up in the early hours of the morning when he punches a hole in his wall. He genuinely pulls his wand on anyone that touches him without sufficient notice. He smashes his fist into Snape’s face when Snape makes a comment about how spoiled he must’ve been as a kid. He stops eating entirely. He’s drunk more often than he isn’t. He’s not sleeping. He starts wearing clothes that cover every inch of skin on his body. He stabs a hole through the canvas of Walburga Black’s portrait when she huffs at the colour he’s wearing.

People start getting upset with him. He’s getting reckless, he’s getting violent, his mood changes at the flip of a dime, his temper is shorter than it’s ever been.

It reaches a boiling point when Sirius snaps at Harry.

Harry had just been trying to ask if he was okay, because even a teenager could see that something isn’t right. Sirius had reassured him. Harry hadn’t been convinced and had gone to hug his godfather from behind. Sirius had flinched away so violently that Harry had nearly collapsed, and then he’d yelled at the kid never to do that again.

Harry had run off. Sirius had retreated to Walburga’s— his— room. His first move is getting drunk off his ass, then taking off his shirt to look at the damage plastering his body. He tried to cover it all with tattoos, once upon a time, but it never worked. That was after he, in his Hogwarts years, had taken a blade and a blasting spell to his skin to cover up the damage that way. That didn’t work, either. Nothing worked. And being in that house just seemed to be ripping those old wounds open.

Sirius had to put wards for himself and only himself on the windows and balconies of the upper floors, that way wouldn’t be too tempted to see if he could fly without magic. Sirius had to move all the dangerous potions to a locked box, which he gave Remus the combinations for and then promptly obliviated the numbers out of his own head. Sirius had to lock himself out of the kitchen so he wouldn’t be able to get his hands on a knife. Sirius had to give Remus his wand so he wouldn’t do anything stupid to himself or anyone else after he pulled it on Minerva. Sirius had to put up barriers and take precautions because he knew what the house would do to him.

12 Grimmauld Place killed Sirius. It killed him every time he walked around a corner and saw blood and tears and bright red light from the tip of a wand in his mind’s eye. It killed him every time Kreacher glared at him and tried to slip something into his food, which he had to throw out before he ate it knowing it would hurt him. It killed him every time he walked by Walburga’s portrait and she grumbled or muttered or shrieked at him, just like she did when she was alive. It killed him every time he ran his fingers over the keys of the grand piano, found comfort in music, only to remember shattered fingers for playing the wrong note. It killed him every time he looked at the permanently locked door with the initials on it and thought of his baby brother, only little, coming to him for nightmares or because Orion and Walburga had forgotten to feed him.

Sirius Black wasn’t angry. He was scared. But no one could see it, because he’s become a master at hiding his emotions.

That’s why he was so excited when he heard that Harry needed help in the Ministry. It meant he could leave his own personal hell.

This is what I mean when I say that Sirius loved Regulus but did not like him. I don’t think I could ever stop loving my baby siblings, but I think I could stop liking them

no offence but if my younger sister told me she not only agreed to ethnic cleansing ideals and found it alright, but personally wanted to be part of it and kill children i would not really like her that much. and tbh. i think thats justified.

You’re so right, that’s the point. I love that so much.

miss when the marauders fandom was about the marauders and not an pureblood supremacist apologist fandom.

when sirius and james’s friendship was a major point and not put behind james and regulus

where sirius/andromeda were the actual rebels of the black family not regulus cus he legit didn’t do shit

where james’s character was understood enough to not ship him with what he fought against his entire life ( the potters being one of the only pire blood family that fought against the supremacist movement)

where remus being a werewolf didn’t make him angry and violent on the contrary made him a sensitive and sweet guy

where lily aka the most important character on the series wasn’t cast away

where deatheaters were actually criticized and not babied. where people understood the IMPORTANCE of the concept of deatheaters and how they exist in our world too. that’s why WE HATE THEM

where ships made somewhat sense. because sirius and remus have symbolism there is something greater about them than just being a gay couple. the moon and the stars.

Remus needs a cane to walk and Sirius carries him around when his legs/hips/back start hurting argue with the wall

Me when I love somebody so much I write them porn for their birthday (targeted)

Sirius Black with big, callused hands. With short nails so they don’t chip when he works. With rings on his thick and long fingers whenever he goes out but his wedding ring constantly. With black nail polish on his nails. With starburst scars on his knuckles form punching things. With cared-for nail beds and good skin despite how much he works.

Remus Lupin with long, thin hands. With no calluses because he doesn’t like physical work. With thin scars over his fingers and palm from transformations. With bitten nails and torn cuticles. With dry skin and hangnails. With nothing but his engagement and wedding rings on his hands. With boney joints that jut out and bent fingers.