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elvisabutler · 9 months

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down home southern cookin'

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( fameless big daddy electrician/handyman ) x female original character word count: 3069 warnings: housewife kink. big daddy elvis. pregnant sex. minor pregnancy kink and breastfeeding kink. sex around food ( the food isn't harmed ). p in v sex ( unprotected ). minor praise kink. talk of sweat. bags thumping on floors making you feel things. author’s note: welcome to day 14 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, breastfeeding kink with spark elvis and lilly. so, hi. i've been having a rough go around on actually finishing the main fic but i have made a bit more progress after moving past the block i've had formed for a while. that being said, enjoy this little one shot in the meantime. also if you have no idea what this series/verse is, the masterlist is right here. in addition, i truly do thrive on your comments and messages and love reading them.

"Is that meatloaf 'm smellin' darlin'?"

Lilly hears the door open before she ever hears Elvis's voice but at the sound of his voice, she can feel their children inside her move about, kicking and trying to roll around. It's been getting harder and harder to bend to reach the oven but she manages well enough, free hand on her belly as she opens the oven.

Elvis's thudding steps tell Lilly that he's heading to the kitchen to investigate not entirely unlike a bloodhound and she smiles softly to herself even as the twin she has taken to calling Gladys kicks her square in the rib. Her hand rubs at the spot as she stays bent over looking into the oven when she hears Elvis's whistle, low and appreciative.

"Wasn't expectin' that sorta greetin'. Ain't complainin', though." His voice is pitched low as she hears his bag thump on the floor. The thought of moving to a standing position enters Lilly's mind and yet she's just that slight bit curious as to what Elvis plans on doing.

After all, wasn't the proof of his appreciation for her backside growing healthy and strong within her? Wasn't his appreciation for a warm meal evident by the way so many of her dresses are slightly ruined? Wasn't he her husband not just in theory but in name?

It doesn't take long for her to feel the press of his front against her behind, the warmth of his body seeping through her dress. His hand moves to cup her stomach as he guides her into a standing position, nipping at her ear as she does. "They givin' ya trouble? Gotta get a lecture from Daddy?"

Lilly's laughter is always music to Elvis's ears and today is no exception. His lips curl into a soft smile as he kisses down her neck, hands wandering across her body. She makes no move to remove them. "They only started giving me trouble when they heard you."

"That so?" Elvis hums as one of his hands settles on her breast, squeezing it just light enough that Lilly's mouth falls open in a gasp. "They just missed their daddy as much as their mama did, didn't they? Jus' wanted to say hello."

He's not wrong, Lilly reasons. Jesse is the same way, trying to come crawling at the sound of his Daddy's voice as soon as he hears it if Elvis doesn't beat the boy to it. Still, there's nothing that says she has to boost her husband's ego any more than it already is tonight. It makes it easy to just hum quietly with a small grin on her face.

"They missed daddy, I don't know if mama did." Lilly teases even as she feels Elvis's hand tighten on her breast and feels the hand that had been cupping her lower stomach move ever so slightly lower. "I had the best company all day."

A huff of his warm breath tickles the hair on the back of her neck as he starts to use his hand to pull up her dress. "Jesse asleep?"

He knows it's too early for Jesse to be asleep, knows that Lilly keeps his son up just so that he can give him a kiss goodnight and help get him ready for bed even if he ran late arriving home. Yet, he feels the need to ask, to make sure Jesse isn't crawling around underfoot in a way that gets him into trouble. Elvis knows he should be a good husband and take a shower and make it so Lilly can rest her aching little sooties. Even with them not in heels he can see them a little swollen and he's sure if he touched them they'd be pounding. Elvis knows he should be a good husband like he always is and yet he can feel his cock swelling up in his jumpsuit. Seeing Lilly- seeing his *wife* bent over making food for him all while so *full* of him does something to him. It'd do something to any man worth his salt. Maybe he'd ask Charlie or Jerry how they feel about their wives when they've been pregnant. Though, Jerry's answer is damn nearly explained with his new niece or nephew Melly's got growing inside of her.

His cock had gotten them into this mess, first with her and him against the sink and even know their twins were merely the result of his cock seeing her backside as she bathed Jesse. If he were a different man, if he were the man he was almost two years ago he'd be embarrassed, mortified that his cock's acting like it's attached to a twenty year old. And yet, right now all he can think about is how thankful he is for it. Thankful it's proven its worth to satisfy Lilly in ways he knows now she had craved during her previous marriage. Thankful it's proven its worth by providing him with a healthy gift from God of a son and hopefully healthy strong little ones in a couple of months.

"You know he's awake," Lilly murmurs, moving closer to the sink for some leverage to lean on. "Wouldn't dream of putting our baby boy to sleep without letting him say goodnight to his Daddy." She pauses and leans back against Elvis, his body heat seeping through his jumpsuit and her dress. She can feel the sweat of the day on his skin and it should be nauseating and off putting but as she inhales deeply she merely smells the unique scent of her husband. A shiver passes through her. "What are you really trying to ask, Elvis?"

An idea of what he wants is on the tip of her tongue but she doesn't want to be too forward even after a child was born that was conceived in the strangest of ways or after he pleasured her with a garden hose. No, somehow asking him point blank if he was trying to enjoy what was between her legs was too much.

"If you'd let me- If ya'd mind bendin' over again. Or if ya'd mind if I put ya between the sink and me. Mindin' the yittle ones, course."

Lilly wonders if the way Elvis talks to her and the way Elvis seems to be completely and utterly in love with every part of her is ever going to get old. If it'll ever stop making her heart race and ever stop making her lose her breath. Maybe it's just because she had gotten so used to things with Nathan that it's still novel. The twins inside her do their own separate flips as she licks her lips.

"Minding them, of course." Her voice sounds airy, like it's floating into the air as she tries to remember how to breathe. "Facing you, right?"

Not looking out the window, pleasure crossing her face at every moment as she leaned against him, her legs too shaky to support the weight of her body. Not facing the window, watching the sun go down on another day, wishing this could be her afternoons forever more. No, she'd be able to face Elvis, see his face as it scrunched up when he grunted inside of her. She'd be able to see how he works up such a sweat that it drips down on her as they fuck. It's not that she hasn't since they've been married but this is another thing entirely. This is being able to see how Elvis's face looked like when he pleasured her against the sink almost two years ago. This is a reward for a hard day's work as she cooks their little buns inside of her and cooks a hearty filling meal for him.

His hands finally reach the destination he wants them to, her underwear. A hand slides against her clothed entrance, chuckling at how drenched has already made her. The pregnancy had heightened so many things and yet somehow she surprises him even with this. With a vagina that aches and yearns for him so much it cries out every second it's not filled. He finally speaks.

"Facin' me," his voice is a murmur and a growl as he shifts her underwear to the side just enough to slide his fingers where he knows she wants them. "Maybe I'll even lift ya up on the counter."

Lilly shakes her head, not trusting her mouth's ability to form words. Another time, she figures, when she wasn't carrying these precious little buns inside her. No, she wants to be pinned just as she was that first afternoon. Her hand reaches out to grab at Elvis's wrist, her hand trailing over her swollen stomach, an action watched with rapt attention by Elvis. A quiet but noticeable squelch is heard as he pulls his fingers from her. He opens up his mouth to speak only to watch as he realized something shifted inside of Lilly when she heard that squelch of his fingers. The look she has on her face is one he's gotten to know well both through her pregnancy with Jesse and now her pregnancy with the twins. She wants him and every second that she don't have him she'll get more and more frustrated. His hands move to undo and start to unzip his jumpsuit only to have her swat them away. Lilly's hand are deft little things, suited for sewing and domestic tasks even he struggles with despite his ample skills.

The rush of the cold air against his sweaty chest has him inhaling and has his overheated body shivering just a hair. Lilly's eyes watch the action and take it to mean that she needs to hurry, needs to reach down low enough to free his already swollen cock from the confines of his underwear. Elvis opens up his mouth to speak only to have Lilly's hand finally pull his zipper down low enough to yank down his underwear, his cock bobbing out of them not entirely unlike a goddamn Jack in the Box. Lilly isn't forceful except for these times when she's needy and he's already promised to give her what she needs. How's a man supposed to talk when he sees her hand around his cock, slathering the ample precum across his length.

"Just against it, Elvis. Please," Lily begs ever so softly, though she knows she doesn't need to. Any request she makes of Elvis he does and this would be no exception. She watches as he looks down at her with such a rush of love and clenches her thighs. Her nipples brush against the fabric of her bra and she whimpers at the mere feeling of his hand against her hip as he walks her back against the sink. She needs and wants every bit of him and he's determined to give it to her.

In bed, he would take his time undressing her, watching her dress fall to the floor and watching her ample milk filled breasts spill from her bra. He would suckle at her nipples until he saw her chest heave and her body shake with release. But right now? Right now against the sink he doesn't bother to even pull down her underwear. He should, and yet he can feel how aroused she is and just how she is craving him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she's reminded this isn't proper, that she should insist he take his time and undress her and yet that voice is smothered by realizing no part of their relationship would be considered proper to her two years ago.

His actions make her happy so why should there be any shame attached to them. Her thoughts swirl in her mind with such force that she is caught off guard by Elvis removing her hand and entering her with very little preparation. A choked off sob of pleasure leaves her mouth as she looks up at him.

"Elvis," she whispers, her hands finding purchase on his chest and down his stomach. The hair on his body that rubs up against her skin every time they make love feels different in her hands in this moment, somehow softer while being just a little bit rougher. One of her hands plays with his chest, laughing breathlessly as one of his hands mirrors her, cupping her breast. "You can go— oh."

Elvis knows Lilly like he knows the back of his hand, he figures. Knows what makes his wife turn to pure putty in hands and knows how to have her pleasured in every way she had always deserved to be pleasured. It's easy to figure out just by watching her face and watching how it shifts when he thrusts just right and cups her breasts just right. "I can what, darlin'? Ya want it faster? Want your husband to move faster? Make it so ya comin' faster than anythin'?"

Lilly's eyes drift to the stove for a moment and then to the clock. She should tell him she wants him to take his time. That she wants to feel every thrust and feel his foreskin as it drags inside of her despite how aroused she is. She knows she doesn't have enough time though, knows that in about ten minutes she has to pull the meatloaf from the oven. Her vagina clenches and earns a slight curse from Elvis as he kisses her softly, waiting for an answer.

"We— the meatloaf. I don't want it to burn." As if she needs to explain why she needs him to go faster. "Tonight—If we can it can be slower."

Her skin is flushed and Elvis just takes a moment in between thrusts to marvel at the way it starts at her cheeks and how there's small splotches of it heading down to her chest. He's done that to her, not just the embarrassment she still holds on to about asking just what she would like him to do to her. His perfect wife, his lil darlin' is worried about meatloaf and can't always put into words what she desires. How had he gotten so lucky? How had God saw fit to put the nearest earthly thing to perfection in front of him? How had he found himself married with a son and young ones on the way to this woman?

"Even if 'm not. Ya— ya always know ya can get my engine revving," Elvis's voice is a murmur against Lilly's neck as he kisses and nips at it, his hips quickening their pace. "How long we got, Lil?"

"Nine," she answers, trying to buck against Elvis as best she can with her stomach and his own in the way. "I'll— I've been wanting—"

The words she wants to say are left in her head as his hand drifts down her chest and down her swollen belly to between her legs. Another time and another place she'd question what he's doing but she knows where his hand is headed. She knows before she feels the press of the calloused pads of his fingertips against her throbbing clit. It's been like that nearly all day and she knows better than to take care of it herself on days like this. Knows that what she needs is the warmth of his hands and the roughness of them to bring her to completion. So lost in her own pleasure she nearly misses the words leaving Elvis's lips.

"My perfect wife. My perfect lil darlin'. Takin' care of our yittle one and growing the other yittle buns. Could be like some of the other women and relax, sh—should be like 'em but here you are makin' me dinner and keepin' everythin' as it should be. Gonna show ya how much I love ya for this. How thankful I am for ya."

He pants it against her skin, one hand gripping at her hip while the other works against her clit as she's pinned against the skin. It should hurt, the way the counter digs into her back just a bit but any pain she feels is overtaken by the throbbing between her legs and the scrape of her nipples against her bra. Everything feels so warm and safe and loving that she feels herself starting to reach a crescendo, clawing at his chest before her hands slide to his lower back and down to his behind, pulling him somehow impossibly closer. An almost inhuman noise leaves his lips, a howl and a growl and a groan all mixed into one as he feels her clenching around him.

"That's it, Lilly. That's it my lil darlin'. God— Like a vice—" His words are lost in a haze of her orgasm and his own following closely after. Somehow both of their grips on each other get tighter as they try to catch their breath. Elvis makes sure to not lean too hard on Lilly, careful to protect their children inside of her. Time doesn't have a meaning for either of them until the shrill ring of a timer sounds signalling the fact that the meatloaf is finished.

"I— I need to get that, Elvis." Lilly whispers, still trying to remember how to breathe and walk properly. His only answer is a slow nod as he steps away. It's easy for him to watch Lilly's hips move as she walks the short distance between the sink and oven. A part of him thinks he should turn away when she starts to bend over but then he thinks of how she's leaking his release standing there and how she still likely has to finish one thing or another on the stove. He licks his lips and with a speed that surprises even him, he finds himself on his knees in front of her once she's pulled the meatloaf from the oven and set it down.

"Elvis, what are you— what are you doing?" Her voice is light and her eyes sparkle in a way they only do when she's amused at him and his antics.

In lieu of answering, his large hands grab at the edges of her dress and start to pull it up and up and up until her underwear is exposed to him. It's then and only then that he answers her, looking up through his eyelashes with a practically devilish smirk. "Felt like havin' dessert while you're doin' your work."

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @marriedtopresley, @memphis-menace, @steph-speaks, @doll-elvis, @vintageshanny, @j-v-9-2, @sexystarfish, @jessicarcates, @chirssycrumble9456789, @shantellescrivener, @yomammalolha, @honey6578, @urmom11111111111119, @myradiaz, @elvispresleyxoxo, @joegramoe, @rainblue-art, @fav-fanficssss, @misspresley, @fallinlovewithurlove, @ash-omalley, @yynneessmons if you're missing from this list, you either changed your username or tumblr is tumblr.

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x oc #elvis x lilly #big daddy elvis #big daddy and lil darlin #elvis presley x reader #spark universe #ally writes #ally's wet hot smut summer

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jackie5656 · 1 year

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Lovesick With; James Potter

A/N: LISTEN, I am just as shocked as you are. Suddenly I’m all productive, it’s astonishing. This is technically a third part to a series, this last part in thanks to @cookielovesbook-akie. Though its again, not technically necessary you read part one and part two. But it does clear up some backstory and context in this one, if you’re interested. Thank you for all the likes and reblogs, it seriously encourages me so much. Enjoy!! <3

Summary: The one with the infirmary visit, and Remus throws hands.

TW: Mentions of injuries, brief description of anxiety/panic attack a little angst for flavor ;)

Ringing, there’s an incessant, repeated ringing of white noise droning in your mind. All your other senses succumbing to it’s vibrations. There’s chaos, pure panic, from the lot of your peers in the Gryffindor tower of the quidditch audience. It’s pouring, you remember James lending you one of his favorite windbreakers earlier that day. The sleek burgundy material with gold accents has kept you warm a majority of the match.

You feel freezing now, as if all the blood has been leeched from your body. There’s a cold hand clutching yours, your eyes trail it’s forearm to recognize it’s Remus. Tugging you through the murmuring crowd and to the stairs as fast as his feet will let him. Sirius leads, shoving and pushing with half-assed apologies as he expertly weaves through the bodies.

You remember seeing him fall, arms flailing in the air before he hit the ground. “What the hell happened, will he be alright?” Sirius once again clears a path through a group of officials, snapping you out of your daze. You’re able to get to the gurney they’re currently carrying James on, tears brimming in your eyes at the sight of him. He’s out cold, face distorted with fresh cuts and developing bruises as they lift him onto the carrier.

“That’s for Noah, Potter!” Damon Tilsy, the infamous Slytherin beater, the one who shoved your boyfriend off his broom, shouts as his teammates hold him back. You turn on your heel, not even considering the consequences before you throw a punch straight to his nose. Something cracks, you’re not sure if it’s his face or your knuckles, but the boy groans in pain and suddenly lunges toward you. It’s a haze of commotion, Sirius ripping you backward as Remus gets in front of you. In an uncharacteristic fit of rage, he shoves the green-clad boy to the ground, about to continue before a couple of Gryffindor players separate everyone. Sirius, shockingly the most level-headed out of the lot of you, grabs you both by the back of your collars, guiding you toward wherever they’re taking James. You leave a full on brawl behind you, a mix of red and green robed students in an all-out frenzy as professors rush onto the field to break it up.

Remus has a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the corridors toward the infirmary. In your daze, you pull on the sleeves of Sirius’ jacket, grabbing his attention despite his eyes never having left his dear friend’s frame.

“The infirmary, Pads. He’ll be terrified.” Sirius’ frown somehow deepens, a kind hand squeezing your shoulder.

“I don’t think we have a choice, love.” Is all he manages, moisture brimming in his brown eyes.

********

“Y/n, it’s been hours, you need to go to the hall and get some food. Maybe some rest, too? We can keep an eye on him.” Remus taps your arm, snapping you out of your daydream.

The three of you are sat beside Potter, still fast asleep. The only proof of livelihood in him is the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. You clutch his hand with the palm that isn’t throbbing, black and blue skin covering your right knuckles.

“Or maybe let Poppy take a look at that hand, make sure nothing’s broken.” Sirius adds, tone soft and pleading.

You shake your head, solemn and silent. “I’m fine.”

Said nurse hurries into the room, raising her brows at the three of you as she reaches James, rising to your feet expectantly at her presence.

“He’ll be all right,” she starts, tight-lipped smile as you all collapse back into your chairs. “Had a broken rib, and an obviously banged up face from that fall,” She notes, adjusting the bandages around the raven-haired boys chest with a pitiful expression. “But my concoction is doing just the trick to mend any other injuries, just needs a couple more days rest here. If you ask me,” She looks around, suddenly paranoid, “that Slytherin boy should be expelled.”

“He won't be?” Remus questions, brows shooting up in disbelief.

Poppy shakes her head, huffing a sigh as she fiddles with James’ IV. “The officials have deemed it misconduct, but not enough for expulsion. He’ll only sit the bench for the next three games.

“You’re joking.” Sirius scoffs, practically fuming. “We’ve got to talk to Professor Dumbledore, they can’t possibly get away with this.”

“Don’t forget James was barely disciplined for defending me.” You mutter, running your thumb over said boy’s jaw. Stomach turning at his handsome features riddled with contusions.

“Or y/n’s right hook” Remus attempts to conceal his proud smirk when Poppy shoots the three of you a look.

“Not like you didn’t join in.” You remark, offering an innocent smile to the displeased nurse.

“No matter the consequences...Or lack thereof, you four should stay out of trouble from now on. If you have any hopes for Gryffindor winning the House Cup this year. As well as finishing your schooling here.” And with that, she’s out of the room, heels clicking the entire way.

There’s a deep sigh from James, he attempts to shift atop the mattress, groaning in pain from the movement. You shush him, running a hand through his hair to soothe him. He grumbles again, and this time, you realize he’s trying to say something. Its unintelligible at first, Sirius shifts in his seat at the anticipation.

“What’s that, Prongs?”

“Did...” James swallows, humming when a straw touches his lips, taking generous sips before continuing. “Did we win?”

“Bloody hell, Prongs.” Sirius howls, relieved the injuries haven’t erased any of his conceit.

“Mutual forfeit, rematch next week.” Remus hangs his head as he speaks, relieved smile on his lips. You're on him in seconds, securing your arms around his neck. The tears that have been threatening to spill throughout this entire conflict finally escaping you.

“Easy there, Dove. Still sore.” You pull away instantly, taking his face in your hands to ensure you aren’t imagining any of this. He’s wiping the moisture from your eyes with a soft smile.

“Please don’t scare me like that ever again.” You whisper, kissing the tip of his nose because it’s pretty much the only place that won't hurt.

“I missed you.” He beams, wincing when the action reopens the cut on his lip. He’s a little out of it, having slept so long and full of pain potions. You do your best not to be disturbed by his loopy demeanor.

“You were sleeping, James.” You giggle, amused with his groggy manner. He shakes his head, licking his lips for moisture.

“Still, could hear you. You were so upset. Shouldn’t cry over me, Dove.” He brushes his knuckles over your cheeks, catching more tears.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You grab his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“We’re gonna go get Poppy, sit tight.” The boys get up, taking one last longing look at their friend before each ruffling his hair and heading out. James frowns, blinking harshly and beginning to squint.

“Glasses?” He pats around the bed, realizing he could only see you because of your proximity, the rest of the room completely blurred. You nod, reaching over him to grab them and place the recently mended pair on his head. He blinks again, adjusting to the change and surveying his surroundings. His breathing quickens as he looks around, coming to terms with being bed-ridden in the place he hates most.

“James, it’s okay. You’re okay.” You attempt to calm him, placing your hands on his chest when he attempts to pull himself into a sitting position. The action sending a searing pain up his chest and down to his toes.

“C-can’t,” he shakes his head profusely, beginning to gasp for breath. “Can’t breath.” He forces himself up, grabbing the headboard with another pained whine. Wheezing as he tugs on the IV needle taped to his arm.

“Baby, stop that.” You clutch his wrist, heart beat rising as he towers over you. Because he’s a concoction of numbing and healing potions, he’s unaware of his own size and strength. Pushing at your shoulders so he can remove the horrifying wires attached to him. You stumble back, falling on your bottom with a small grunt. He’s stunned, crumpling to his knees and clutching your waist. Confusion and terror written all over his face.

“Sorry, Dove. I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” He gasps for air, tears running down his face at the atrocity of it all.

“James, look at me.” You’re stern, grabbing the sides of his face so he can only see you. “You’re having a panic attack, I need you to look at me. Just breathe, copy me.” You take a slow, steady breath. Holding it for just a second before releasing, nodding when he begins to follow. “That's it, just like me.”

He swallows, lip quivering as his teary eyes search yours. “Did I hurt you?” You shake your head, astonished he’s even considering your well being when he’s an absolute mess of broken bones and bandages.

“I’m absolutely fine, just keep taking those deep breaths. Don’t cry over me, James.” You repeat his words from before, chuckling when he bows his head in disagreement. You smirk, determined to take his mind off all that’s just transpired. “Guess you could say you’ve swept me off my feet, Potter.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re smiling.” You push a tuft of curls from his face, taking his wrist to place his palm over your chest. Letting him calm from it’s rhythm. He takes hold of your hand, face contorted in concern when he surveys your bruised knuckles. Running a shaky thumb over the discolored skin with a deep frown.

“He deserved it.” You defend under his accusatory gaze, pulling the sore appendage to your lap.

“I’m sure,” James can’t help but feel a twinge of pride at the sight of it, though he chastises you anyway. “But you’re much too pretty to be punching people, Dove. I believe that’s my job.”

“I can’t take all the blame. Remus got in on some of the fun, too.” His mouth opens to ask for more context, but you’re interrupted.

“Merlins beard!” The wide-eyed nurse startles the pair of you, rushing into the room with the remaining marauders on her heels. “What are you two doing?”

“Just getting a change in scenery.” You quip, having been the only one to find your comment humorous, James looking to you with an expression you can’t quite read.

“Ridiculous, the lot of you.” She chides, motioning wildly in a silent order for Remus and Sirius to help James back onto the bed. He clutches his side, a sickening cry escaping his lips at the affliction. You clutch your stomach, nauseated by his pale, exhausted appearance.

*******

“We know you’re allergic to pollen, so we thought these would suffice.” Marlene smiles sweetly, piling on the stuffed bears and candies to the chair at James’ bedside. He cracks a smile, rubbing at the bandage around his chest for the hundredth time tonight. After another nap, he’s finally up for some visitors. And after the entirety of the Gryffindor team flooded the infirmary, charming it so it’s decorated in a familiar red and gold to make their chaser a little more at home, the girls decide to pay a visit.

“You’ve spoiled me, loves. Thank you.” He’s still tired, having forced appreciative commonalities all afternoon with you at his side. He’s thankful, but can’t help the overwhelming guilt that eats at him after the morning’s altercation.

“Don’t mention it, we just want you feeling better.” Lilly studies James and then you, picking up on the slight tension.

“Especially with the rematch next week.” Dorcas adds, yelping when Marlene smacks her arm in distaste. James only laughs, not offended by her blunt statement in the slightest. If anything, he needed the forthright reminder.

“No worries, I’ll be back on the broom in no time.” Your brows furrow at his eagerness, tongue swiping over your teeth to bite back any quick remarks that threaten to spill out.

“We should let you rest, both of you.” Lilly announces, looking to you with just as much sternest as she does James, fully aware you haven’t slept since his injury. They say their goodbyes before heading out the door, greeting Poppy as she walks by. The devoted, noticeable worn out nurse wordlessly hands you an extra pillow and blanket. Knowing full well any attempts to get you to sleep in your own dorm are futile.

You spread the woven blanket over your legs, settling in for the night when James looks over. “You don’t seriously think I’m letting you sleep on that chair while I get a bed, right?” He inquires, absolutely astonished. You only yawn in response, pulling the blanket up to your chin and surveying his injuries for what seems like the millionth time. No matter how much you look at him, seeing the abrasions, wraps, and wires never gets easier on your heart.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m broken.”

“James, you’re getting better, I know that. This has just been...A lot, for both of us.” He nods, pulling the sheets aside in a silent signal for you to lay beside him.

“I’ll hurt you, and the mattress is small enough as it is.” There are other beds in the infirmary, of course, but you’d rather not make any of the staff have to change yet another set of sheets purely for your comfort.

“Either you get in this bed with me, or I take the chair.” It’s not a request, that’s clear in his tone. You sigh, too tired to argue any longer. Increasingly upset with the unspoken tension between you. It’s likely a mix of fatigue and distress, but it’s foreign nonetheless. Sure, you’ve had your bickering. But this seems to be your first real argument. And, ironically enough, you’re not even sure what it’s about.

You climb onto the mattress, immediately comforted by his warmth. The day has bested the both of you, and sleep pulls at every one of your muscles. James obviously can't lay on his side, so the most comfortable position is underneath his arm so your head can rest on his chest. You’re careful to avoid the side of him farthest from you, as it’s the one with the mending rib. James releases a huge breath once you’re next to him, a sigh he seems to have been holding in all day. You’re both quiet, contemplative, heartbeats beginning to sync together in a beat that further begs sleep.

“Why aren’t you upset with me?” He breaks, so soft you wouldn’t have heard him had you been so close. You sit up, one hand on the mattress and the other on his chest to support yourself.

“What? Why on Earth would I be upset?” You’ve been so sure your boyfriend has been barely talking to you because of his own unspoken quarrel, not even considering he thought it to be vise-versa.

“I hurt you.” A tear falls past his bruised cheek, one he’s quick to swipe away. Hazel eyes bloodshot with exhaustion and sadness.

“James.” Is all you manage, voice cracking with your own build up of emotion as he gently pushes your doting hands away from him.

“No, y/n. You’ve been nothing but patient, gentle, worried.” He swallows, not meeting your eyes as he goes on.

“You didn’t mean t-”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I wasn’t even hurt, James.”

“But you could have been.” His eyes narrow, disgusted at the thought. “You were only trying to help but I just-I just panicked, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He falters, not expecting your embrace when you wrap your arms around him. Hesitantly, he wraps an arm around your waist, immediately engulfed in comfort when it presses your body against his. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

“Never. Please, just please don’t pull away from me like that. I thought you were angry with me.” You confess into his neck, meeting his eyes when he pulls you back by the waist.

“Angry with you? Dove, first I’m overcome by some illness, and then no less than two weeks later I’m in the infirmary after the first quidditch match of the season. If anything, you should be angry with me.” He’s bewildered at your unwavering kindness, feeling utterly undeserving of a soul so sweet. It makes him want to cry even more. Though he doesn’t, for your sake.

“And what did I tell you when you got sick? That you never needed to earn my taking care of you.” You point a finger into the middle of his chest, stern in your reiteration.

“That’s not exactly what you said.” He has the audacity to tease, releasing his first genuine laugh in days when you smack his arm. Despite your flushing skin, the bellowing sound is music to your ears. Finally, you see that spark ignite back into Potter. Thank Merlin, he’s still there.

“Haven’t you put me through enough, now you’re teasing me?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You’re terribly cute when you’re shy, I can’t help myself.” He squeezes your hips, hands running down to your thighs to soak in as much skin as you’ll let him have. Right then and there, in the middle of the empty infirmary, James Potter is completely sure he’s going to marry you someday.

“What?” You squirm under his gaze, and he realizes he’s been staring.

“Nothing, just looking at you.” Is all he says, laughing again when you crumble into his chest. Utterly lovesick.

“Hey, where’d you go?” He pokes your sides, voice so sweet and soft you do your best not to melt even more. “I haven’t gotten to kiss you in ages, I’ve been deprived much too long.” Your cheeks burn from smiling so much, unable to rid yourself of the giddy demeanor when he presses his lips to yours, a chuckle escaping him as he presses smaller pecks to the corner of your mouth, along your jaw and past your neck until he reaches your collarbone. Nipping on the sensitive skin, and smirking when you gasp, hitting his arm again.

“I can’t kiss you if you’re smiling,” he defends. Greedy hands slithering under your shirt to trace circles on the skin of your back. You press your forearms to his chest, allowing him to really kiss you this time. He chases when you pull away, still not satisfied. You shake your head, pressing one last peck to the corner of his mouth.

“We need to sleep.” You order, ignoring his dramatic sigh as you relax into him for the final time.

“I’ll just have to make up for lost time in my dreams then. You’re much more amenable there, anyway.”

“James Potter-”

“Kidding, Dove. I prefer you much more, she’s a bit handsy anyway-” His teasing is muffled when you clasp a hand over his mouth, a gasp passing your lips when he nips your palm. Completely satisfied now that you’re properly flustered.

“Goodnight.” You blink slow, engulfed in tantalizing warmth once he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. Ensuring your fully covered before he closes his own eyes.

When he’s sure you’re sound asleep, James licks his lips. Whispering out into the darkness, because the words have been begging to leave him ever since your accidental confession those weeks ago.

“I love you too.”

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