I LOVE YOUR AUS HOW DO YOU COME UP WITH THEM AHSDVJNSDJHBVSJDHVB
Hi lovely! Thank you for the question its actually a funny story... I saw someone on TikTok I think put a bunch of random AUs onto a picker wheel and I thought it was genius. It took the endless list of possibilities out of my hands and left everything up to fate or luck.
So, I made something somewhat similar. I put together a document with around 80 AU ideas, then I roll four d20's and boom that's the AU I have to write. No overthinking or changing my mind. I do the same thing for pairings but with a d8.
And if I really don't vibe with the initial idea I can shelve it and come back to it.
Sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you were ever going to do that bridgerton au for Sirius? I’m really looking forward to it
Hello lovely thanks for asking! For everyone who voted months ago for a Bridgerton AU Sirius… I am so sorry this took me this long. I kept starting and stopping this idea, but this time I finally sat myself down and made myself start it properly. So here it is the start of these drabbles! I really hope you enjoy ♡
Sirius Black x Fem!Reader who leaves the debutant ball early
AN: Regency AU / Bridgerton AU. Talks of embarrassment and rumors.
WC: 1,356 ♡
Music swelled through the ballroom, spilling out through the grand estate as if even the thick wooden doors could not contain it. Laughter followed in its wake, bright and cheerful, exactly what one would expect from the first ball of the season, filled with wide eyed debutants dancing and chittering away.
Fluttering, feathered fans shielded blushing faces as men sauntered up to the newly presented ladies. Some lingering in easy conversation, others already bowing to request the next dance.
It was all very… picturesque.
And yet, you couldn’t help but want to leave.
Surely tales of your debut had already reached the ears of potential suitors.
They always did.
Names traveled faster than people often carried along in whispers and speculation long before any proper introduction could be made.
Which only made the reality all the more unbearable.
Why would you willingly embarrass yourself, standing at the edge of the room, waiting— hoping —that someone might take pity on you enough to ask for a dance?
You may be clumsy, but you were not delusional.
Your heels clicked softly against the polished floor as you wordlessly excused yourself from idle chatter, offering practiced smiles that did not quite reach your eyes.
It was only once you slipped past the towering doors and into the cool evening air that you could really think. The chill breeze brushed against your skin, a welcome contrast to the stifling warmth of the ball, and for the first time that night, you felt as though you could breathe.
With a sigh you look back at the opened doors. You would rather have the ton gossip about your disappearance than endure the far more humiliating truth… that no one had approached you at all, your dance card left untouched and painfully empty.
The maze of the dimly lit garden provided a much needed distraction.
Your fingers brushed against the hedges as you wandered deeper down the winding paths. Lanterns appeared occasionally, their flames flickered behind stained glass panes and casting beautiful flickering paintings across the gravel pathway.
The distant music faded with every turn until it became little more than a faint melody.
The further you walked, the quieter everything became.
Eventually, you emerged into the center of the maze.
A large tree stood proudly in the middle of the clearing, its sprawling branches stretching overhead like a protective canopy. Lanterns hung from its limbs, bathing the space below in a warm glow illuminating two ornate benches that sat beneath the tree.
The lantern's light danced across the leaves overhead, making them appear almost gilded.
It was beautiful.
The scene before you was pactically hidden away from the rest of the ball.
However, it seemed you weren't the only one seeking refuge from the evening's festivities.
A man occupied one of the benches, stretched out with all the elegance of someone who had entirely given up caring. Dressed in a fine black suit, he looked every bit the gentleman attendee save for the loosened cravat at his throat and the way he was sprawled across the bench as though he owned it.
Dark waves of hair had fallen across his face obscuring his features but even so you could tell he seemed utterly exhausted.
Not wanting to disturb him, you carefully stepped backward.
Unfortunately, your heel clicked sharply against the pathway.
The crunch echoed through the small clearing.
Immediately silver eyes fixed on you from between dark strands of hair.
"The ball is in the other direction," he muttered.
The sound of his voice alone might not have stopped you but the look in his silver eyes certainly did.
"I'm well aware," you mumbled, unsure if the words sounded as unsteady as they felt leaving your lips.
With a dramatic groan, he pushed himself upright.
"I'm not interested in a dance, so if you came out here to seek me out—"
"With all due respect," you interrupted, brows rising. "I have absolutely no idea who you are. Nor did I expect anyone else to be hiding out here."
His expression pinched into something between annoyance and disbelief.
"And I should believe you because...?"
"Because it's true?"
"There's not a person in the ton who doesn't know of me or my family."
You couldn't stop your eyes from rolling.
"Kind sir," you began dryly, "if I knew who you were, I would have addressed you as such."
His brows lifted.
"Sirius Black." He said his silver gaze washing over you expectantly waiting for some sign of recognition.
There wasn't much.
The name sounded vaguely familiar, of course, but no more than any other prominent family name tossed around drawing rooms and tea tables.
"So, Mr. Black, then," you replied with a small shrug.
His mouth twitched.
"That's all?" He mumbled a tinge of dissapointment in his tone.
"Should there be more?" You ask, brows raised.
The look on his face was almost comical. Dark brows pinched together and his lips tugged into what you could only describe as a pout. Though he recovered quickly, leaning back against the bench as if trying to regain his composed facade. "Are you usually this unimpressed?"
You crossed your arms over your chest.
"Are you usually this vain? Do you assume every woman who somehow stumbles across you is seeking your attention?"
His brows lifted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I'd prefer confident."
You merely tilted your head, silently asking if he truly believed that.
The smirk faltered instantly.
"Right. Perhaps not the best choice of words."
"Perhaps not."
A laugh escaped him then, low and genuine, echoing softly through the clearing.
"It's a habit," he admitted. "It happens more often than you'd think."
"That women wander through mazes looking for you?"
"That women seek me out."
You hummed nodding your head slowly unconvinced.
"Maybe you ought not assume everyone is trying to court you."
He shrugged looking entirely unbothered.
"Courting is so formal. Not everyone wants a courtship. Some just—"
Your eyes widened. Both hands shooting forward immediately as if that alone would be enough to stop his train of thought. "Stop. Stop, stop, stop! I get it."
His grin widened.
"I wasn't going to say anything scandalous."
"That is exactly what someone about to say something scandalous would say."
A bark of laughter escaped him, startling a bird from somewhere in the branches above.
For the first time that evening, despite yourself, you felt the corner of your mouth threaten to lift.
"Well, now you know me," Sirius said, gesturing vaguely toward himself. "Who are you?"
His silver eyes swept over you once more, searching for some indicator of who you might be that he might have missed.
Sirius hadn't recognized you either.
Though, considering the evening, that wasn't all that surprising. Tonights ball existed for one purpose and one purpose only… to parade this season of debutantes before the ton like prized jewels. There were dozens of unfamiliar faces wandering the ballroom tonight.
Your's was just one of them he deduced.
Your gaze drifted downward as you debated your answer.
Would giving him your name be a terrible idea?
Your reputation was already less than pristine. Not ruined, exactly.
Merely... muddied.
The unfortunate events surrounding your presentation to the Queen had spread through society with alarming speed. What had begun as one embarrassing moment had likely transformed into half a dozen wildly exaggerated stories by now.
Giving your name to an obvious rake seemed like an excellent way to make matters worse.
But could your reputation truly suffer any further?
You considered it for a moment then immediately answered your own question.
Yes.
Absolutely.
Sirius watched several emotions cross your face in quick succession.
His brows furrowed.
"Should I be concerned?" he asked, leaning forward.
"My apologies," you said, dipping your head in a proper bow, every bit the polite young lady society expected you to be.
Sirius straightened.
At last an introduction.
Instead, you pivoted sharply on your heel.
And ran.
For a moment, Sirius simply stared.
The skirts of your gown vanished around a hedge, your footsteps fading quickly down the maze's winding path.
Sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you were ever going to do that bridgerton au for Sirius? I’m really looking forward to it
Hello lovely thanks for asking! For everyone who voted months ago for a Bridgerton AU Sirius… I am so sorry this took me this long. I kept starting and stopping this idea, but this time I finally sat myself down and made myself start it properly. So here it is the start of these drabbles! I really hope you enjoy ♡
Sirius Black x Fem!Reader who leaves the debutant ball early
AN: Regency AU / Bridgerton AU. Talks of embarrassment and rumors.
WC: 1,356 ♡
Music swelled through the ballroom, spilling out through the grand estate as if even the thick wooden doors could not contain it. Laughter followed in its wake, bright and cheerful, exactly what one would expect from the first ball of the season, filled with wide eyed debutants dancing and chittering away.
Fluttering, feathered fans shielded blushing faces as men sauntered up to the newly presented ladies. Some lingering in easy conversation, others already bowing to request the next dance.
It was all very… picturesque.
And yet, you couldn’t help but want to leave.
Surely tales of your debut had already reached the ears of potential suitors.
They always did.
Names traveled faster than people often carried along in whispers and speculation long before any proper introduction could be made.
Which only made the reality all the more unbearable.
Why would you willingly embarrass yourself, standing at the edge of the room, waiting— hoping —that someone might take pity on you enough to ask for a dance?
You may be clumsy, but you were not delusional.
Your heels clicked softly against the polished floor as you wordlessly excused yourself from idle chatter, offering practiced smiles that did not quite reach your eyes.
It was only once you slipped past the towering doors and into the cool evening air that you could really think. The chill breeze brushed against your skin, a welcome contrast to the stifling warmth of the ball, and for the first time that night, you felt as though you could breathe.
With a sigh you look back at the opened doors. You would rather have the ton gossip about your disappearance than endure the far more humiliating truth… that no one had approached you at all, your dance card left untouched and painfully empty.
The maze of the dimly lit garden provided a much needed distraction.
Your fingers brushed against the hedges as you wandered deeper down the winding paths. Lanterns appeared occasionally, their flames flickered behind stained glass panes and casting beautiful flickering paintings across the gravel pathway.
The distant music faded with every turn until it became little more than a faint melody.
The further you walked, the quieter everything became.
Eventually, you emerged into the center of the maze.
A large tree stood proudly in the middle of the clearing, its sprawling branches stretching overhead like a protective canopy. Lanterns hung from its limbs, bathing the space below in a warm glow illuminating two ornate benches that sat beneath the tree.
The lantern's light danced across the leaves overhead, making them appear almost gilded.
It was beautiful.
The scene before you was pactically hidden away from the rest of the ball.
However, it seemed you weren't the only one seeking refuge from the evening's festivities.
A man occupied one of the benches, stretched out with all the elegance of someone who had entirely given up caring. Dressed in a fine black suit, he looked every bit the gentleman attendee save for the loosened cravat at his throat and the way he was sprawled across the bench as though he owned it.
Dark waves of hair had fallen across his face obscuring his features but even so you could tell he seemed utterly exhausted.
Not wanting to disturb him, you carefully stepped backward.
Unfortunately, your heel clicked sharply against the pathway.
The crunch echoed through the small clearing.
Immediately silver eyes fixed on you from between dark strands of hair.
"The ball is in the other direction," he muttered.
The sound of his voice alone might not have stopped you but the look in his silver eyes certainly did.
"I'm well aware," you mumbled, unsure if the words sounded as unsteady as they felt leaving your lips.
With a dramatic groan, he pushed himself upright.
"I'm not interested in a dance, so if you came out here to seek me out—"
"With all due respect," you interrupted, brows rising. "I have absolutely no idea who you are. Nor did I expect anyone else to be hiding out here."
His expression pinched into something between annoyance and disbelief.
"And I should believe you because...?"
"Because it's true?"
"There's not a person in the ton who doesn't know of me or my family."
You couldn't stop your eyes from rolling.
"Kind sir," you began dryly, "if I knew who you were, I would have addressed you as such."
His brows lifted.
"Sirius Black." He said his silver gaze washing over you expectantly waiting for some sign of recognition.
There wasn't much.
The name sounded vaguely familiar, of course, but no more than any other prominent family name tossed around drawing rooms and tea tables.
"So, Mr. Black, then," you replied with a small shrug.
His mouth twitched.
"That's all?" He mumbled a tinge of dissapointment in his tone.
"Should there be more?" You ask, brows raised.
The look on his face was almost comical. Dark brows pinched together and his lips tugged into what you could only describe as a pout. Though he recovered quickly, leaning back against the bench as if trying to regain his composed facade. "Are you usually this unimpressed?"
You crossed your arms over your chest.
"Are you usually this vain? Do you assume every woman who somehow stumbles across you is seeking your attention?"
His brows lifted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I'd prefer confident."
You merely tilted your head, silently asking if he truly believed that.
The smirk faltered instantly.
"Right. Perhaps not the best choice of words."
"Perhaps not."
A laugh escaped him then, low and genuine, echoing softly through the clearing.
"It's a habit," he admitted. "It happens more often than you'd think."
"That women wander through mazes looking for you?"
"That women seek me out."
You hummed nodding your head slowly unconvinced.
"Maybe you ought not assume everyone is trying to court you."
He shrugged looking entirely unbothered.
"Courting is so formal. Not everyone wants a courtship. Some just—"
Your eyes widened. Both hands shooting forward immediately as if that alone would be enough to stop his train of thought. "Stop. Stop, stop, stop! I get it."
His grin widened.
"I wasn't going to say anything scandalous."
"That is exactly what someone about to say something scandalous would say."
A bark of laughter escaped him, startling a bird from somewhere in the branches above.
For the first time that evening, despite yourself, you felt the corner of your mouth threaten to lift.
"Well, now you know me," Sirius said, gesturing vaguely toward himself. "Who are you?"
His silver eyes swept over you once more, searching for some indicator of who you might be that he might have missed.
Sirius hadn't recognized you either.
Though, considering the evening, that wasn't all that surprising. Tonights ball existed for one purpose and one purpose only… to parade this season of debutantes before the ton like prized jewels. There were dozens of unfamiliar faces wandering the ballroom tonight.
Your's was just one of them he deduced.
Your gaze drifted downward as you debated your answer.
Would giving him your name be a terrible idea?
Your reputation was already less than pristine. Not ruined, exactly.
Merely... muddied.
The unfortunate events surrounding your presentation to the Queen had spread through society with alarming speed. What had begun as one embarrassing moment had likely transformed into half a dozen wildly exaggerated stories by now.
Giving your name to an obvious rake seemed like an excellent way to make matters worse.
But could your reputation truly suffer any further?
You considered it for a moment then immediately answered your own question.
Yes.
Absolutely.
Sirius watched several emotions cross your face in quick succession.
His brows furrowed.
"Should I be concerned?" he asked, leaning forward.
"My apologies," you said, dipping your head in a proper bow, every bit the polite young lady society expected you to be.
Sirius straightened.
At last an introduction.
Instead, you pivoted sharply on your heel.
And ran.
For a moment, Sirius simply stared.
The skirts of your gown vanished around a hedge, your footsteps fading quickly down the maze's winding path.
I know you’re likely busy but I’ve been going back and rereading your roommate James fics and I desperately need more! Can we get a spring time fic or summer vibes like you guys are picking up to head home for summer and James just can’t imagine you not being part of his daily routine anymore? If not that’s totally fine! Never any pressure
Hi lovely! Thanks so much for the request ❤︎ This was honestly so much fun to write. I haven’t sat down to write anything creative in a bit, so I was really excited to see this pop up in my inbox! I hope you enjoy
University Roommate!James Potter x fem!reader it's move out day
AN: could probably be read as gn!reader too! Can be read as platonic and/or romantic! Reminiscing. Fluffy and concerned James Potter.
WC: 1,379 ♡
The end of the semester was quickly drawing to a close. Finals had been turned in, and now students in the dorms were forced to clean up after themselves. Personalities were stripped from walls quicker than they’d been thrown up at the beginning of the semester, and boxes lined the walls as everyone waited for final grades to post before pulling the trigger and leaving.
You were much the same, your dashboard open on your phone as you refreshed for your final grade while clothes were tossed half folded into an already overstuffed duffle bag. You’d left your closet to the last possible moment, which was proving to be a major oversight on your part.
Sweaters spilled out onto the bed. A lone shoe had somehow gone missing. There was a growing pile of things you swore had fit before that now refused to cooperate.
Across the way, James was already carrying things out into the living room. He’d mentioned before that his parents lived close enough to campus, so little by little he’d been packing things up and dropping them off at their place.
You heard him before you saw him— footsteps, muttered swearing, the unmistakable sound of something nearly being dropped.
Then he peeked into your room.
The space was mostly barren now, save for the university issued bed, desk, and dresser, and the absurd amount of boxes stacked by the door.
“How ya doing, love?” he asked.
You looked up at him, brows immediately furrowing at the state of him.
“Are you really—” You shook your head, a laugh of disbelief bubbling out. “James…”
He only smiled brighter, eyes crinkling behind his glasses. His dark curls were a mess, sticking out in every direction, but what sent you into a fit of giggles was the sight of him overloaded with his own bags— one duffle bag slung over each shoulder, a heavy backpack hanging awkwardly off his chest, clearly stuffed with books.
James wasn’t a patient man. Everyone on campus knew that. But watching him nearly buckle under the weight of half his possessions just so he wouldn’t have to make multiple trips to his car…
Well. It was a hilarious sight.
“If you needed help, you should’ve asked,” you said, shaking your head as you crossed the room, already reaching for one of the bags digging into his shoulder.
“Nope, I’m good. This is less than what we use for drills,” James said, twisting his body away before you could relieve him of any of the weight. The movement made one of the duffles slide dangerously, and he hitched his shoulder to keep it from falling with a huff.
You snorted. “You say that, but I doubt you’ll be able to carry all that down the stairs yourself… because no one is sharing the elevator with you looking like that.” You gestured toward him with a teasing smile, taking in the absurd sight of him strapped in with half his possessions.
“Let me help you?”
“Nah, I’ve got it, love.” His grin came easy, stubborn as ever. “I wanted to get this down so I could help you.”
His gaze drifted past you, settling on the stack of boxes crowded by your door. His expression shifted, amusement softening into something more thoughtful.
“You’ve got boxes and boxes,” he said. “Will all this even fit in your car?”
You turned to look, humming as you sized up the pile again. Clothes, books, the lamp you probably should’ve left back at your parents.
“I think I can play some tetris and make it fit.”
James barked out a laugh. “That is the least reassuring thing you could’ve said.”
“I’ll make it work,” you hummed, reaching for one of his bags again.
He laughed, shaking his head as he maneuvered around you. “I’ll go drop this stuff at my parents’ and come back to help you bring your things down.”
You shook your head. “I can handle it myself, James. You don’t have to.”
He only waved you off. “Text me what you want for lunch. I’ll pick it up.” He winked and booked it out the door before you could even protest.
The room felt strangely quiet after he left.
—
An hour and a half came and went, and the overhead lights in your room suddenly felt too harsh, much too bright. You flicked them off, relying instead on the light filtering through your windows as you started hauling boxes out into the shared living room, stacking them near the couch out of the way.
The place looked emptier by the minute.
Every trip out of your room made it feel less like yours.
James had texted about twenty minutes ago asking what you wanted for lunch.
You’d thought about it for a while as you leaned up against the couch before settling on Chinese, since the restaurant on campus was somehow still open. Might as well right?
With another box set down by the growing pile, you paused to catch your breath, rubbing your hands together with a frown. The cardboard had really dried out your skin, leaving your fingers rough, but that wasn’t really what had you unsettled.
You were emotional as it was picking up your life once more but one thought was at the forefront of it all.
James likely wouldn’t be your roommate next semester… and as much as you liked to give him shit, he was a really sweet guy and a nice roommate.
You’d miss him.
The thought sat heavier than you expected.
But before you could work yourself into tears, the familiar jingle of keys pulled you from your sappy thoughts.
James stepped inside carrying a plastic takeout bag, the boxes inside shifting as he lifted it slightly. “I ordered extra wontons,” he said, a grin already on his face. “The ones you like.”
But the grin slipped the second he saw you.
His expression softened, concern replacing whatever teasing remark he’d been about to make. He set the bag down on the empty counter, the plastic crinkling loudly in the quiet room, and crossed to you without hesitation.
“What happened?” he asked, though he seemed to realize before you answered.
Then his arms were around you.
Warm.
Familiar.
Instinctual.
Like this wasn’t even something he had to think about.
He pulled you against his chest, his hands settling at your back as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
“What’s wrong, sunshine?” he murmured into your hair.
Your fingers bunched in the front of his shirt.
“I’m going to miss you,” you whispered.
For a moment he said nothing, only held you tighter. His chin rested lightly against your head as his eyes drifted around the living room— he space where you’d spent months watching shows together on the couch, eating late dinners after his practices, somehow turning this little dorm into something that felt like home.
“I’m gonna miss this too,” he admitted eventually.
You nodded against his chest, throat tight.
Then he added, quieter, “But I’m not going to miss you.”
You pulled back fast enough to stare at him. “What?”
A laugh escaped him. “That came out wrong.”
His hand slid up to adjust his glasses— a nervous habit he has you noticed.
“What I mean is…” He exhaled. “I was going to ask if maybe… next semester…” His eyes flicked away for half a second before returning to yours. “If you wanted to find a place off campus together.”
You just blinked.
He rushed on. “As roommates. Obviously. I mean— unless—” He stopped himself with a grimace. “You know what I mean.”
And that made you laugh.
A real laugh this time.
“Okay,” you said.
James stared. “Okay?”
“Okay,” you repeated.
Relief softened his features so suddenly it made your chest ache. “You mean it?”
You nod. “I guess you are hard to get rid of.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to ignore me all summer when I send apartment listings?”
“Only if you don't spring random walkthroughs on me the day of.”
He pointed at you. “That's fair.”
Then he nodded toward the takeout on the counter. “Now go eat your lunch before the noodles congeal.”
You snorted with a shake of your head. “Romantic.”
University Roommate! James Potter x fem!reader who end up taking a nice walk to look at the christmas lights.
AN: I wanted to get this out before christmas but hopefully it doesn't seem too rushed!!! Happy holidays lovelies ♡
WC: 970 ⋆·˚
The once crisp autumn air has quickly turned into a biting cold.
Snow now sticks to the cobblestones on the campus quad, making the clumsier students slip and fall onto their behinds when they’re not paying attention.
Which was often...
It always gets a giggle out of you when James comes back to the dorm, his jeans clearly damp from his little trip outside. Yet he’s still yet to trip in front of you — though with how often he comes back with wet jeans, you suppose it’s only a matter of time.
You were in the kitchen, making soup for the both of you to enjoy later in the evening, as the heater in the dorms had decided to stop working during the coldest time of the year. Warm foods like soup were one of the best ways to melt through the biting chill that clung to your dorm room.
James came trudging into the dorm, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floor before he kicked his damp sneakers off to the side of the door to dry.
You heard him before you saw him.
Turning from the stove in the shared kitchenette, your eyes raked over him before settling on the state of his jeans. Unable to help it, a soft laugh bubbled from your lips.
“Again?” you asked.
He grimaced before sighing. “This time, I was pushed,” he pointed out, walking over to hoist himself up onto the open counter.
Based on the look you must’ve given him, his hands lifted in surrender. “I swear.”
“Mhm,” you hummed, shaking your head as you turned back to the pot of chicken noodle soup simmering away.
You could almost hear his pout.
“This girl just slipped and fell in front of me and took me down with her, okay,” he groaned, making you glance back at him.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. My ego, on the other hand…”
“Oh, I’m sure she was thrilled to have taken down star athlete James Potter along with her,” you laughed, then added, “She okay?”
“She’s fine. Did offer me coffee as a thank you, though.”
“Making the moves on a girl who literally fell for you — how romantic,” you rolled your eyes good naturedly.
“I turned her down, thank you,” he said, almost proudly.
“Pity,” you sighed softly, faux disappointment coloring your tone. “That means I probably could’ve had all this soup to myself.”
“Pity,” he echoed. “I knew you were making soup, so I came home early from lab.”
“More like it was too cold for you, so you decided to come home early and warm up,” you corrected, dipping a fresh spoon into the broth and offering it to him.
His lips wrapped around the silver spoon without prompting, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before fluttering shut as he relished the warmth.
“Need anything?” you asked gently when he released the spoon.
“A bowl,” he chuckled, leaning in to press a quick peck to your cheek. “And for you to dress warmly after dinner.” He flashed that boyish smile you couldn’t help but return.
“Dress warmly? Why?” you asked, brows furrowed.
“They hung the Christmas lights up in Hogsmeade today,” he said, reaching past you to grab the soup bowls from the cabinet above. “It’s a bit of a walk, but I know you’ve been waiting to see them.”
You froze, glancing up over your shoulder at him. “What…”
“I know you love Christmas lights,” he continued easily. “Figured we could grab some warm drinks, walk around Hogsmeade, and pick up some decorations for the dorm.” He grinned down at you, and your heart fluttered traitorously.
“That… that would be nice,” you said softly, turning back to the soup.
“Perfect.”
—
You shrugged on your winter coat, hauling yourself toward the door to grab your boots and bag.
“You can leave it,” James said gently, taking your purse from your hands. “Unless you really need it.”
“You said we were getting drinks—”
“You thought I’d let you pay?” he laughed. “How cute. You made dinner — enough for another night, too. I’ve got this.” He offers you your purse back. “I’m giving it back on the condition that you understand you’re not buying jack.”
“What about Jill?”
“Not Jack, not Jill, nor the hill, smarty pants,” he rolled his eyes affectionately.
—
The walk down to Hogsmeade wasn’t too eventful. You and James passed one of the professors juggling a teetering stack of boxes, likely filled with classroom decorations.
“Do you need help, Professor Pomona?” James asked, pausing and asking you to wait.
The cheerful, plump professor beamed at him before shaking her head with a hearty laugh. “No, dear, I’m quite alright. I wouldn’t want to steal you from your date. Off you go. It’s rather cold. Don’t keep her waiting.” She practically shooed him away.
Without denying it, James hurried back over, taking your gloved hand and tugging you gently along the path toward Hogsmeade. The path to the village was decked out in holiday cheer. Tinsel in shimmering greens and reds wound around the lampposts, turning the street into something straight out of a postcard.
“So…” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “You didn’t correct her.”
“Didn’t want to,” he shrugged, squeezing back.
Those butterflies you thought had settled not too long ago took flight all at once, making your insides flutter. “Oh—” Your gaze dropped briefly to the snowy path beneath your feet.
James squeezed your hand again, drawing your attention back to him. He offered you a shy grin… rare for someone usually so confident and yet somehow all the more endearing for it.
Then your eyes caught the twinkling lights just beyond him as Hogsmeade opened up before you, warm and bright against the winter night.
It was so cool to watch the votes fluctuate throughout the day! Never expected roomies to win 🤣 but please look forward to uni roommate jamie here soon 💖
University Roommate!James Potter x fem!reader who might be a little under the weather
AN: could probably be read as gn!reader too! Can be read as platonic or romantic! Talks of feeling sick. Fluffy and concerned James Potter.
WC: 1,163 words
James made his way back to the dorm after practice, his hair still slick with sweat as he stumbled in through the front door. His duffle bag hit the floor with a thump that made him wince— it was much louder than he intended.
He kicked off his shoes, muttering curses against his coach under his breath as he padded his way over to the couch. His bed was decidedly much too far for a nap.
Except… you were already curled up on the couch under two blankets he knew he’d seen on your bed.
The sight made him pause.
You weren’t one to nap— especially out in the living room. You usually liked the comfort and quiet of your own room. So seeing you curled up on the couch, knees tucked close, made him stop.
His previous thoughts of napping were sidelined as he moved to crouch down beside you, his fingers reaching out to brush some hair out of your face, his fingertips grazing over your cheek.
Warm.
Much too warm.
“Hey, love,” he mumbled as he saw you stir.
Tired and heavy eyes blinked open with effort, gaze unfocused. A hum rumbled in the back of your throat, the sound tired and confused.
“You alright?” James asked, brushing more hair that had fallen into your face away. His voice was soft and unsure.
You frowned, nodding before the words registered, then shook your head instead. “Not really…”
His head tilted in concern. “Sick?”
“Just waiting for my meds to kick in—” you muttered, trying to sit up, but your face scrunched up in pain before you could even move an inch.
“Whoa—” James’s hands were on your shoulders in an instant, easing you back down against the cushions of the couch. “Don’t move so suddenly, sunshine.”
“What hurts?” he asked softly, pulling one of the plush blankets higher to cover your exposed shoulder.
A groan ripped from your lips as your palm pressed against your forehead. “I had a really bad headache, and it’s just getting worse…”
Amber eyes squinted in concern. “Migraine?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
You shook your head immediately, wincing at the motion. “Don’t think so— just feel like crap.”
His brows furrowed in concern. “Did you take cold medicine?” he murmured, placing the back of his hand against your forehead.
As he expected… you were burning up.
A frown wormed its way onto his face, his thumb brushing across your temple as if hoping the motion would somehow lower your temperature.
“No,” you whispered. “I don’t think I have any more. I took my migraine meds, but they’re not helping,” you admitted weakly.
James hummed, glancing over at the kitchenette counter where you usually kept cold and flu meds lined up. He hadn’t noticed before that the space was empty — the familiar bottles replaced by a comically oversized mug and a box of Sleepytime tea.
“I’ll go get some,” he said, pushing himself off the floor with a groan. His muscles still screamed from practice. “Do you want to stay out here or go to your room?”
Your brows furrowed as you weighed the options. “I’ll stay… but can you grab my laptop? It should be on my bed. I really need to work on a paper—”
“Nu-uh,” James tsked, shaking his head. “I’m going to run to the store, you’re going to email your professor and ask for an extension, and when I get back, you’re going to get your cute butt into bed and sleep.”
He said it like a plan he fully intended to see through, his tone light, but firm with finality.
James set your phone beside you on the couch; the screen flashed a bright 4:33 PM before it faded back to darkness. “To message your professor,” he said as he crouched to grab his keys from his duffel bag and slip on his sneakers.
“I’ll be right back,” he assured, flashing you that warm and comforting smile of his before disappearing out the door.
With a sigh, you picked up your phone, opening your email. The glow from the screen made you want to chuck your phone across the room, but you knew you needed to message her.
Typing clumsily, you explained as politely as possible that sitting at your computer and staring at the screen in your current state wasn’t an option, and you’d appreciate an extension if possible.
It felt like a shot in the dark, but still, hope bloomed in your chest as you pressed the send button. The familiar woosh sound of the email sending made your heart rate spike.
You grimaced, setting the phone back down beside you before trying to get comfortable again.
You tried to stay awake— you really did— knowing James wouldn’t be long, but exhaustion weighed down your eyelids, and soon everything went dark.
—
The rattle of keys stirred you awake.
Blinking softly, your vision swam as you turned your head toward the door. From your position on the couch, you could really only make out a blur of what you assumed was James.
The sound of him kicking off his shoes and the crinkle of plastic made you grimace.
He padded into the kitchenette, setting what you could only assume was more cold medicine on the counter.
His footsteps drew closer until you felt his presence beside the couch. When you blinked up again, you were met with a concerned amber gaze.
“Hey, sunshine,” he said softly, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. “Did you message your professor?” His voice was gentle as his hand brushed more hair away from your face, his touch lingering against your warm skin.
You hummed, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers carded through your hair. “Dunno if I’ll get it.”
“At the very least, I know you’re not the only one sick,” James said quietly, his thumb grazing your temple. “The store down the street barely had any cold medicine left.”
His lips quirked into a hesitant smile. “So… as much as you hate it, I was only able to get cherry flavored.”
You made a face at that, your nose scrunching in mild disgust, but you nodded anyway. “Thanks for running to get meds, Jamie,” you mumbled, bracing your hands against the couch as you slowly pushed yourself upright.
James hovered beside you, his hands twitching as if unsure whether to help you or let you find your balance yourself.
“I got some chicken noodle too,” he said softly. “I can heat it up now if you think you can eat, or later if you think you can’t stomach it.” His hands finally settled on the back of the couch.
You pressed your lips together, thinking, then shook your head slightly. “Maybe later?”
“Of course, love,” he said immediately, his voice gentle and warm. “Let’s get you some medicine and get you to bed.”
Thank you so much for being interested in sending me requests.
I do want to be honest, though: I’m currently busy with my doctorates program and dealing with my own yo-yoing health, so I may not be able to get to every request. If you decide to send one, I hope you’ll be patient with me ♡
✧ First and foremost, please try to keep this a positive space. The world is full of negativity already; we don’t need more hate.
✧ I’d appreciate it if you didn’t republish my work off Tumblr. I made a Tumblr because I want to post my work here. If I wanted it posted on other sites, I would do so myself ♡
✧ As much as I love the wizarding world of Harry Potter, I cannot stand J.K. Rowling. If you agree with her in any capacity, my blog is not the place for you to consume media of any sort.
✧ I’m still relatively new to the writing side of this fandom. I’ve been reading and enjoying fan works for over a decade, but I’m just now tossing my hat into the ring. If there’s a way I can improve my writing, please let me know in a constructive way. Don’t just say, “This shit sucks” — that doesn’t help me at all.
✧ Posts may likely be sporadic, as I’m currently navigating my doctorates program and dealing with my health. So if I go AFK for days at a time, don’t worry! ♡
vaporwave
germansingergirl
prguitarman
andulkaphoto
theartofmadeline
dededos
baratheonpilled