Jun 7
wolfstar au but sirius is studying in the uk from france and he gets in but his english isnt rly good enough so he has to take english classes w his course
and whos his tutor? remus
seen from China
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Czechia
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Iraq
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
seen from Canada
wolfstar au but sirius is studying in the uk from france and he gets in but his english isnt rly good enough so he has to take english classes w his course
and whos his tutor? remus
Summer Love
Harry Potter x reader
Summary: Every summer, Harry Potter returns to Privet Drive. But this year, the heat brings much more than a reunion.
wc: 1.7k
Masterlist
The summer heat was unbearable; your mother had insisted you wait inside, but you politely refused. From your yard, you could see the moment Mr. Dursley's car turned the corner and parked in the front yard. You sighed anxiously. It was supposed to be today, like every summer, that your friend would return to his aunt and uncle's house once again. You knew it wasn't a situation he would find pleasant at all, but having him around after another year of studying at St. Brutus's Secure Centre.
Finally, the car you'd been waiting for turned the corner and abruptly parked right where you were waiting. Mr. Dursley slammed the door before walking straight into his home. Harry calmly got out of the passenger seat. You watched him walk distractedly, with a resigned expression, to the trunk of the car to pull out a heavy trunk with his school's insignia on it.
you spin me round 👻
Sirius Black doesn't just love the song "piano man" by Billy Joel like anyone would.
The song came out in 1974, he would be in fourth year. Remus would've come up to the dormitory with the record, excited to show Sirius the new music, because ofc they both love muggle music. Remus knowing a lot of it because he's half blood and has one foot in the wizarding world, one foot in the muggle world, and Sirius as a rebellion to his family.
Sirius would've listened to the lyrics and gone completely still and started crying because those lyrics are quite like him. "Sing us a song, you're the piano man. Sing us a song tonight. Well, we're all in the mood for a melody, And you've got us feelin' alright."
Because Walburga insisted he play piano for guests, and would hit his knuckles till they bled if he hit a wrong note. Because it's a "family tradition" to play piano, and he refused be the first one ever to fail that. And he got good at it, but he never enjoyed it, because how could he, with his mother behind him, watching his every move and technique, waiting to hit him. Or even worse, his father, waiting with a curse.
Remus asked what was wrong, and Sirius shook his head, signaling 'nothing.' He'd just never felt so understood by a song.
So when he was sixteen, he played piano man at a gathering. No one knew it wasn't a wizarding classic, because they're all pureblood. The only one who knew was Regulus, who smiled slightly from across the room.
"But there's some place that he'd rather be. He says, "Bill, I believe this is killing me," As the smile ran away from his face. "Well, I'm sure that I could be a movie star, If I could get out of this place."
A week later, Sirius would escape to the Potter's, half dead, and dragging Regulus along with him. His mother would walk into his room and find the few records he purposely left behind, one left out on his bed in plain sight, titled "piano man."
(Yes, I absolutely headcannon that Reg would've left with Sirius, or at least gone the next summer, sue me)
hi!! i love your writing and i just wanted to ask if you could do some dom james potter smut? please and thank you <3
Just the Tip- Stepbro!James Potter x f!reader pt 2
*18+* *Hi! If this is not what you wanted and you want more of a heavier dom/sub relationship, please let me know! I hope you enjoy this regardless!*
“Fuck, James, quick, they’re getting back soon,” you rushed as he quickly slipped off your panties.
“I know, I know,” he hurried as he pressed his red, swollen, aching tip to your entrance. He was dripping with enough precum to challenge your dripping cunt. Your breath hitched as you prepared yourself to be filled. You let your hands rest on his strong shoulders. “Tell me if it’s too much,” James smirked cockily as he filled you slowly with every thick inch of his length.
“Oh fuck, James,” you whined as your walls spasamed around his cock, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“So fucking tight,” James groaned as his hands gripped your hips, his fingertips burying themselves into your skin before picking up his pace.
“Oh shit!” You cried out, “Just like that, James, just like that!”
“You like how that feels?” James teased as he continued his rough pace. You just nodded your head, unable to speak as pleasure overcame you each time he slammed his tip against your now bruised cervix. “Use your words, princess, unless you want me to stop.” You just whined and shook your head no, choking down your moans. James halted his thrusts abruptly, making you feel like the rug was ripped right out from under you.
“James!” You whined, staring at him in disbelief.
“I said to use your words, it really is quite simple. Tell me if you like how it feels and I’ll fuck you until your eyes roll to the back of your head, or I can just go take care of myself in the restroom while you struggle and chase after an orgasm you will never reach without me fucking you.”
“You’re such an arse,” you groaned.
“Alright then, see you around,” James reached down for his trousers, but you kicked his hands away.
“No no please, please, fuck me James, I need it. It feels so so so damn good when you fuck me. No one fucks me like you, I swear. Make me cum quick before they get home and I’ll suck you off every night before bed for the rest of the month,” you pleaded shamelessly.
“What a wonderful offer, I will gladly take it,” James boasted cockily, “but you know I would’ve fucked you just for telling me it feels good,” James slowly filled you up again.
“Maybe I am just dying to get your fat cock in my mouth,” you moaned out, the filth that spilt from your lips made James pick up his pace. “Maybe I dream about choking and drooling around you as you fuck my tight virgin throat.”
“Such a dirty girl,” he moaned, fucking you at an almost ruthless pace.
“Fuck, James,” you cried out, your brain instanly turning into mush, “You make me feel so fucking good.” Your shameless moans filled the space between the two of you, urging him to fuck you deeper and harder each and every time.
The two of you cried out in pleasure, James was spilling into you seconds after your own release, just as you heard keys jingling and the front door opening.
“Oh fuck,” you panted, tears streaming down your cheeks as James rushed out, stopping at the door to throw you an arrogant wink.
“See you tonight for what better be the best blowie of my life,” he smirked.
“God, yes.”
The Owl Brings More Than News part. I
Pairing: George Weasley x fem!reader
Summary: Every Saturday brought a letter and a little more magic. Through your sister’s stories, Fred and George Weasley had become legends in your mind—until the day they showed up at your front door. And when George smiled at you for the first time, you realized nothing in those letters had prepared you for how real he would feel… or how quickly he’d steal your breath away.
Warnings: Slow Burn / Romance / Muggle world / Friday
The tapping at your window had come like clockwork. Every Saturday morning, just as you had lifted the kettle from the stove, the great brown owl appeared with a neat roll of parchment tied to its leg.
You had opened the window, smiling despite yourself. “Morning, big guy,” you had whispered, easing the ribbon free. The owl had hooted softly before launching back into the sky, leaving you alone with your weekly treasure.
Your sister’s handwriting had spilled across the page in quick, excited lines. She had always written too much, never able to fit an entire week of Hogwarts into just one letter. Potions disasters, Quidditch drama, and now—an entire section dedicated to two boys who apparently had turned the school upside down.
Fred and George Weasley.
According to your sister, they had been geniuses of mischief. Charms gone wrong, fireworks in the common room, enchanted suits of armor that sang rude songs to the professors—every paragraph about them had been wilder than the last. You had caught yourself laughing aloud more than once, pressing the parchment to your chest as though holding it closer might let you feel the magic yourself.
By the time you had reached the bottom of the page, your cheeks had been warm. You had known them only through your sister’s words, but you could already picture the twins in your mind: fiery hair, quick grins, the kind of presence that made ordinary days unforgettable.
And you had hated how much you had wanted to meet them.
Your fingers had brushed the edge of the parchment again, tracing the loops of her handwriting as though you could squeeze yourself into the spaces between her words. You had tried to shake it off—remind yourself they were just names, just faces you had never seen. But every letter had been worse than the last: more stories, more laughter caught between the lines, until you could almost hear it echoing in your kitchen.
And then, almost hidden beneath the rest of her neat script, there had been a hurried postscript. Just a single line, scrawled as though she had nearly forgotten:
Oh, and don’t be too shocked—but Fred and George will be coming home with me for the weekend when term ends. I can’t wait for you to finally meet them!
The kettle had whistled shrilly behind you, but you hadn’t moved. The words had burned against your eyes, the parchment trembling slightly in your hands.
Meet them.
All at once, the stories were no longer only ink and imagination. They were real, flesh-and-blood boys who would be walking through your front door in a matter of weeks.
And somehow, that thought had made your heart race faster than you wanted to admit.
The weeks had slipped by faster than you had expected. Each Saturday morning, the owl had tapped at your window with another letter, another glimpse into your sister’s world, another reason for your chest to tighten whenever the twins’ names appeared on the page.
And then Friday had come.
By the time the evening sun had dipped low, casting gold across the rooftops, you had been pacing your room, glancing out of the window every few minutes. Your hands had been restless—straightening books on your desk, smoothing your bedsheets, tugging nervously at the hem of your shirt.
It had felt ridiculous, the way your heart had hammered at every sound outside. They were just your sister’s classmates. Friends. Nothing more.
And then you had seen them.
Three figures had turned the corner of your street, your sister in the middle, her smile as wide as you had ever seen it. But your gaze had snagged instantly on the other two. Tall, with hair that caught the sunlight like fire and laughter that carried even through the glass of your window.
Fred and George.
Your breath had hitched as though the world had tilted. They had been real—more real than the ink on your sister’s letters, more real than the half-formed faces you had built in your imagination. They had been right there, walking toward your door as if they had always belonged on your street.
You had torn yourself from the window just as the front gate had creaked open. Your pulse had thrummed in your ears as hurried voices filled the hall, your sister calling out your name.
And then the door to the living room had swung wide.
“Here she is!” your sister had said brightly, tugging the two boys inside.
You had lifted your gaze—and found yourself staring into the kind of grin that could undo you in an instant.
George Weasley.
George’s eyes had met yours for only a heartbeat, but it had been enough to steal the air from your lungs. His grin had widened, like he had already caught some secret about you that you hadn’t meant to give away.
“Blimey,” Fred had said first, clapping your sister on the shoulder. “You didn’t tell us your sister looked exactly like you—except less terrifying.”
Your sister had swatted him with a laugh, and George had only shaken his head, smirking as though he had expected nothing less.
You had forced yourself to smile, mumbling a quick hello while hoping they couldn’t hear the way your pulse had thundered. George had answered with a warm “Evening,” his voice low, casual, but laced with a teasing lilt that had settled right under your skin.
Dinner had been chaos. Fred had told stories so animated you had nearly choked on your drink from laughing, while George had leaned back in his chair, watching the exchange with quiet amusement until he had tossed in the sharpest punchlines. At one point, when you had reached for the breadbasket, George’s hand had brushed yours—lightly, almost carelessly—and you had pulled back too quickly, heat rushing to your cheeks. His smirk had told you he had noticed.
By the time the plates had been cleared, your sister had been dragging Fred upstairs to show him her latest collection of enchanted trinkets, leaving you and George in the quiet of the living room.
He had lounged on the sofa, legs stretched out, that crooked grin still tugging at his mouth as he glanced at you. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
“I talk plenty,” you had shot back, surprised at your own boldness.
His eyes had glinted, the grin deepening. “Good. I was starting to worry I’d have to do all the work this weekend.”
Your heart had skipped, the room suddenly feeling much too small.
And for the first time that night, you had wondered if three days would be enough.
You had flicked on the television, more out of nervous habit than real interest, and dropped onto the sofa beside George. The film had started already, a fast-paced mess of car chases and one-liners.
Except George had tilted his head, eyes narrowing at the screen. “What on earth is happening?”
The laugh had burst out of you before you could stop it. “Oh—you’ve never seen this? Right, so that guy—” You had leaned forward, pointing, words tumbling faster than your brain could catch them. “He’s not really the villain, he’s working undercover, but no one knows that yet, so everyone thinks he’s the bad guy. And the girl—well, she’s just pretending to like him because she’s actually working with the other guy, except she doesn’t know he’s working undercover too—”
Your hands had moved as quickly as your mouth, sketching out entire webs of alliances in the air. George hadn’t interrupted once. He had just watched you, head resting on his hand, a slow smile tugging at his lips as though the film had already been replaced by something far more entertaining.
When you had finally realized how long you’d been talking, your words had sputtered out. Heat had crept up your neck, your cheeks burning. “Sorry. I—I didn’t mean to go on like that.”
George had leaned back, grin soft but steady. “Don’t be. I could listen to you all night.”
Before you could think of anything to say to that, footsteps had sounded on the stairs. Your sister had appeared in the doorway, arms crossed but smiling. “Beds are ready.”
You had mumbled goodnight, standing a little too quickly, while George had only stretched and given you a look that made your stomach flip.
And as you had climbed the stairs to your room, one thought had looped again and again in your mind: tomorrow was only the first full day.
The link will take you to Part 2 of the story:
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 0 · The Owl Brings More Than News part. II · Pairing: George Weasley x fem!reader Summary: A weekend visit turns into a slow-b
do we ever talk about the practicalities of being a muggleborn at Hogwarts? I mean, I know *i* do, but does it infest anyone else's brain?
right, cause we have one (1) train, and it stops in one (1) place. You're boarding the Hogwarts express in London, which is great if you live in/near London or you live with an adult who has magical teleportation powers, but what tf are the muggleborns supposed to do about that???
Oh god and the isolation of it all?
can't phone, no normal post. I'm so sorry but my landlord would boot me out if I brought a fish into my apartment. I KNOW those muggleborn families in flats couldn't have owls coming in and out at all hours
hell, most apartments don't have fireplaces, so that's floo right out
do you just not speak to your parents for 4 months at a time? You're 11! You've just been taken away from everything you've ever known! That's awful!
and there don't seem to be any services for incoming muggleborns. Like, we've got muggle studies for upper year wizards, but why is there no wizard studies for new muggleborns? Like, even just a once a week first semester class going over shit like, 'this is how you tie a tie' and 'this is how owl post works' and 'this is how you open an account at Gringotts'
I don't know. it just seems like a full nightmare for me to imagine an 11 year old having to try to navigate a whole new society on their own
Pawing at Guitars
Sirius religiously visits this one music store in his town, but something is different tonight. There’s a new worker tuning the guitars — mousy brown hair, warm skin, freckled cheeks. On the bumped bridge of his nose runs a small scar. His name tag, unevenly pinned to his loose shirt, reads Remus. Sirius has never been so entranced by a man before in his entire life.
Wolfstar — Sirius POV word count: 1121