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mechanic sirius, hair tied up loosely with a pencil shoved through, overalls tied at the waist, filthy white tank top, cig hanging from the side of his mouth, motor oil stained fingers, strong as hell, another cig tucked behind his ear for later, black eyeliner, ac/dc filtering out of the radio clipped on his hip
remus who just needed an oil change but has now gone weak at the knees and lightheaded
remus now needs a whole lot more than just an oil change
Firm believer that Remus loved when Sirius’ hair was wet. Wether it was just after a shower, swimming, or after he’d played with Harry in the rain, Remus was mesmerized by him and his hair
when they were young, remus would lie awake with sirius sleeping on his chest. he would gently kiss his hair and think, i love you so much, i wouldn’t want to live in a world where i don’t have you.
he would silently thank whoever was listening that he was the one cursed with lycanthropy… at least it would take him first, spare him from ever knowing a world without his love.
oh, how cruel the world was. for remus lupin had to lose sirius not once, but twice.
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peter pettigrew x preston fawley | wip | aroace slowburn || cw- themes of family ab*se/trauma (this one's sad i'm sorry, it'll be happy again soon)
to fic directory || first part || last part || next part || ao3
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
He was awoken the next morning rather rudely by a crow cawing from the windowsill behind his head, seemingly a warning sign for the owl dropping a familiar envelope directly onto it after, before he even had the chance to fully open his eyes. As soon as he did, he wanted to pluck them right from his skull with the edges of it.
Ivory envelope with elegant black scrollwork across it, sealed with the same crest that sealed his fate. The center of their family crest had a bird, flying away, like even their bloody sigils couldn’t bear the weight of the name they held. He shivered, his thumb rolling over the script. M. Fawley.
“Shut that damned window, would you? Bloody cold.” Sirius shifted further into his blankets, promptly huffing his way back to an apparently very angry sleep, and for only a moment, Preston considered asking him to stay awake.
Just for a moment, he thought. Long enough to be sure I remember to be breathing. But his voice seemed to bottom down out of his throat every time his lips parted, his body itself wholly rejecting the thought for him like a disease.
His fingers burned with it, the acid in his father’s tone finding a way to seep out through the wax. It slowly crept its way up his arms, into his collar, and, if his face hadn’t been tinglingly numb, he was sure he’d have felt it into the crown of his skull. As the seal crumbled under his fingers, his sight filled with tiny purple stars, floating him further and further away until it all looked like someone else’s vision.
He considered trying to ignore it, but he knew himself incapable. Even if his will had been stronger, the pinprick where the envelope had landed in his temple was rather stingy for being so small. He wondered if his father had been cruel enough to train the bird.
Alas, the moment he pulled out the parchment, he wished he’d settled for the agony of waiting instead.
PRESTON.
A strange black fog seemed to fill the room until all that he could see was his name, black and bleating. Always all caps, like he yelled it as his hand scrawled.
YOU MUST BE AWARE BY NOW HOW EXACTLY YOU HAVE DISGRACED ME. THE DISAPPOINTMENT I FEEL IN YOU GROWS EVERY DAY. I AM UNSURE AS OF NOW IF I CAN CONTINUE TO CONSIDER YOU MY SON.
PLEASE REMEMBER ALWAYS THAT EVERY HORRIBLE GRADE IS ANOTHER FOOT OF YOUR MOTHER’S OUT THE DOOR. REMEMBER THAT I STILL SEE HER OFTEN. IT IS ONLY YOU THAT DOES NOT.
I HOPE YOU SEE HER FACE WHEN YOU DREAM AT NIGHT. I HOPE YOU REMEMBER HOW MUCH YOU CRIED. I HOPE YOU REMEMBER HOW MUCH IT HURT WHEN YOU THOUGHT YOURSELF WORTHY OF CRYING OVER HER.
YOU ARE A SORRY EXCUSE FOR A BOY, LET ALONE A MAN.
YOU ARE LUCKY IF I ALLOW YOU THE GARAGE OVER HOLIDAY.
Sent with pride and care from The Fawley Estate
M. Hannilius Fawley
X…………………………………….
Signed+Sealed for Authenticity
He hadn’t even bothered to sign it. Preston’s thumb swiped over the empty space, feeling the full weight of its absence. Not even owed the respect of holding the name for himself, but forced to bear the responsibility.
Worse, he’d felt good for once. Genuinely good. He’d let himself. Somehow, it made the pain just as bad as when he was small again, like all of the getting used to it had crumbled away with the seal. He shook with it, terrified eyes swimming through the words like a madman, trying to find any possible thing he’d missed. But all it did was stare back, a shark belly waiting for him, warm and inviting, beckoning.
He’d forgotten about the damned test, how could he have let himself? He’d meant to brace. But God, he’d gone and enjoyed himself for once, and wasn’t that something? Shouldn’t that outweigh it?
He pulled a hand over his mouth, swallowing back the bile threatening his throat, the screams waiting beneath it. He’d been taught better than that. Worse. Much worse. He hated it. Fireworks in his ears, flashes of wand sparks and curses and things he was too young to understand the gravity of, the shawls over her shoulders and the crooked curves of his father’s fingers. And Preston, far too small, between it all, burned by flying sparks, uncontrolled and blistering.
His father’s words carved at him without his presence. He didn’t need it. He’d taken up residence in Preston’s mind, built himself a home for when he saw Preston feeling too good about himself. His fault, his fault, his fault, his fault his mother was so broken.
His fault that his mother had up and left.
Deep down, some little part of him whispered the knowledge that it wasn’t true. For his whole life, she was the only good in the world. Good mothers don’t leave over bad grades.
Or maybe they did. Anyway. Preston would never know, not without speaking to her himself, and his father had a way of talking anything out of his head.
He tells Preston she can’t bear the sight of him anymore.
Worst of all, he can still hear her laughing. He missed it.
Sleep never came for him. Nothing did. He simply had to sit with it and let it eat him whole.
________
mini a/n- i am so excited to be getting back into writing again, i am SO SORRY it's taken so long !! working on my webtoon has been Kicking My Ass creatively.
if you've stuck around waiting this long, thank you, ilyvvvm :)
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