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set-phasers-to-whump · 6 months

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breathe

prompt: "let me see"

whumpee: peter sutherland

fandom: the night agent

hi here's the part 2 to this fic from day 18. i hope you like it, i had a really good time writing both of these :)

Peter steps off the plane at Dulles in the early evening. He feels slightly better than he had on the first flight, having now gotten a good deal of sleep, and having bought some extra-strength painkillers and a ridiculously overpriced meal at JFK. At the very least, he’s not so exhausted and the pain is more manageable and he no longer feels nauseous with hunger.

He gets a cab home, not caring about the price. Halfway there he realizes that he doesn’t have his key - it’d been in his bag, which is now gone. The cab driver mercifully has a paperclip that he gives to Peter, though he looks at him a little skeptically in the rearview mirror.

Peter knows he doesn’t exactly look like an upstanding citizen at the moment. The bruises on his face have become more pronounced over the last several hours, and he’s still dirty and sweaty and generally gross. He makes sure to tip the driver well when they at last reach his apartment building.

He picks the lock on his door with little trouble and heads immediately to his bedroom.

He hadn’t bothered to buy and change into new clothes at JFK, though he certainly could have. But he hadn’t been able to stand the thought of changing without showering, and in any case he hadn’t really had the strength.

He isn’t entirely sure if he has the strength to change and shower now, but he’s damn well going to anyway. The thought of a nice hot shower, of clean and comfortable clothes, is nearly enough to make him weep.

He gathers clothes at random - an old t-shirt, his favorite sweats, the hoodie he’d stolen from Cisco all those years ago. Then he steps into the bathroom and turns the shower on, almost as hot as it will go.

He strips down while the bathroom slowly steams up. First to go are his boots. His fingers shake when he unties the laces, and he has to sit on the floor to get enough leverage to tug them off.

His socks follow suit, full of sand that scatters across the floor. He’ll deal with that later. He’s relieved to see that his feet aren’t blistered - he really hadn’t walked that far - but his left ankle is swollen and tender to the touch in a way that suggests a sprain at the very least.

He wriggles out of his pants and boxers without standing back up. His knees are both bruised and so are his shins. One of them sports a large break in the skin, blood matted into the hair around it.

He unzips his jacket and pulls off his shirt. The cuffs of both are bloody from his wrists, despite his earlier efforts to clean them. His entire torso is like one massive bruise. He’ll have a few broken ribs, for sure.

He can’t see the bruise around his neck, but he knows it’s there. He cannot stop feeling it, a phantom arm still wrapped around his throat. Stop thinking about it, he tells himself. You’re safe now.

He only half believes it.

He forces himself up off of the floor with a groan of pain and then steps into the shower. The hot water stings his skin and the pressure of it makes the bruises across his body hurt like he’s being beaten all over again. He grabs the soap and shampoo and then sinks to the floor, too tired to remain on his feet.

He covers himself in a thick layer of soap. It stings his open wounds, but he grits his teeth against the pain and keeps going. He cannot risk infection. He cannot be anything less than clean.

After this, he scrubs shampoo into his hair. The water runs faintly pink when he washes it out, and he wonders where the blood had come from.

At long last, he’s certain that every inch of his body has been scrubbed clean. He no longer feels sand prickling at his skin and he is no longer stained with blood. He sits beneath the water and breathes in the steam until it starts to run cold.

Out of the shower, Peter dries himself off as gently as possible. He’s also quick about it, not wanting to stand on his ankle any longer than he has to, and so when he gets dressed he’s still a bit damp and the clothes stick to his skin.

He doesn’t mind. The feeling of the familiar fabric is comforting regardless, and it reminds him of where he is. At home, far away from the people who had hurt him.

He rubs neosporin into the raw skin of his wrists and the cuts on his face, then swallows a couple more painkillers. Finally, he brushes his teeth until he’s spitting blood into the sink.

He leaves the bathroom something of a wreck and heads for the kitchen. He’s hungry again. There are a few packages of ramen in the pantry, for times when he doesn’t feel like cooking. He’s extremely grateful for them in this moment, and within five minutes he’s sitting in front of a steaming bowl and breathing in the very familiar scent. It’s one he associates with his days at Quantico, and he is hit with the realization that he needs to contact his bosses.

He hadn’t been given any instructions for communication before he’d left, so they won’t necessarily know anything has gone wrong. He needs to tell them. He doesn’t want to.

He can put it off for a little while. It’s not like he currently has a phone, anyway.

He finishes eating, has a large glass of water - he thinks he is always going to be just a bit thirsty, now - and then just sits there.

His body aches and he knows he should probably get checked out by a doctor. But the thought of some stranger poking and prodding at him, after everything, is incredibly unpleasant. It can wait until tomorrow, at least.

It is dark outside, nearing eight o’clock, and Peter does not want to be alone. He wants to see Rose.

She lives across the city from him, in a cute little house that she’d moved into only a couple months ago. He wants nothing more than to go there, to simply be in her presence.

He’d normally call and ask whether she’s free. But he can’t. He’ll just have to hope she’s there, that she won’t mind him coming by unannounced.

He puts on a pair of boots - thankfully not the ones he’d been wearing before, which are full of sand - and a jacket with a high collar. Lacking his phone and keys, he feels distinctly like he is forgetting something as he steps into the hallway, but he knows he isn’t. He leaves the door unlocked behind him and tries not to think about it.

He takes the bus and then the metro across town. He feels anxious, memories of the bombing overlaying themselves atop memories of the past twenty-four hours. He focuses on looking out of the window and trying to control his breathing.

He arrives at Rose’s house a little after 8:45. He experiences a moment of doubt before he rings the bell - what if she doesn’t want to see him, what if she isn’t home - but she opens the door with a smile on her face.

“Back so soon?” she asks. He’s supposed to have been away all week.

Seeing her, hearing her voice - he hasn’t cried, not since it happened. He’d been too exhausted, too focused on making it to the next step. But she is his final destination.

He starts to cry and he can’t stop. Rose pulls him inside and wraps her arms around him and it hurts but he doesn’t pull away.

His ankle is throbbing. He sinks to the floor and she goes with him. Her fingers are in his hair and he clings to her shirt like a lifeline.

At some point, after a long while, he does stop crying. His eyes are dry and itchy and his throat feels raw. He leans heavily against Rose and breathes raggedly.

“Sorry,” he whispers. The word feels like sandpaper.

“Shh,” Rose replies. “Come with me.”

She gets up and he follows her to the couch.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

Peter takes off his shoes but leaves his jacket on. He does not want her to see the mark on his neck. It is enough to feel it, all the time.

Rose comes back with a container of ice cream and two spoons, and Peter feels himself nearly smile. She sits cross-legged beside him, pries open the carton, and passes him a spoon.

The cold dairy feels wonderful on his throat, and Rose’s steady presence makes him feel safe and comfortable. He relaxes quite a bit.

And then his jacket sleeve rides up as he’s trying to dig out a chunk of chocolate, and Rose freezes, grabbing his wrist.

“What happened?”

He gently pulls away. “It’s nothing.”

She abandons the ice cream, turning her body to face him. “Peter, that doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Rose nods. “Okay. Let me see, at least? You don’t have to say anything. I just…”

He knows.

He can hardly refuse. He’d want the same thing, in her place. To know that she’s alright. To see how bad it really is.

He carefully removes his jacket and pushes up his sleeves. He looks down at the floor as Rose touches his arms with cold fingers.

“Look up for a second?”

He complies. Looking down, he knows, had hidden the worst of the bruise on his neck, but hadn’t hidden it all. He swallows hard as her fingers ghost over the bruise, trying to pretend that they don’t make him think of what had happened.

“Is there more?”

He could lie. Except that he can’t, really. Not when it’s her.

He nods. He doesn’t know why it feels like admitting something shameful.

“Can I see?”

In response, he lifts up the hem of his shirt to reveal the bruising on his torso. He hears Rose suck in a breath.

“What happened?” she asks, lightly touching his chest. There are tears in her eyes and part of Peter wants to tell her, to reveal every single detail that he remembers. But another, larger part of him cannot face it. It’s too much and too soon, and he feels like one raw, exposed nerve. He can’t. Not yet.

He shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later. Promise.”

“Okay,” she whispers. “Have you been to the hospital?”

“I’ll go tomorrow.”

“Peter -”

He meets her eyes, really meets them, for the first time. “Please. I swear, I’ll go tomorrow. But right now - I can’t.”

Rose nods, although it’s clear she doesn’t love this plan. “Will you stay here tonight? So I can keep an eye on you?”

He hadn’t been sure of how to ask this very question without seeming like a child afraid of a monster lurking in the dark. He nods.

Rose smiles, sad and happy at once. “Are you tired?”

He shrugs. “A little.”

“Come on, then.”

They go to her room. The bed is large and warm and smells like her and it kind of makes him want to cry all over again, for reasons he doesn’t really understand.

“Just a minute,” Rose says. She disappears to lock up, to get ready for bed, and Peter buries himself beneath the blankets.

She returns to the bedroom a few minutes later, switching off the light. The complete darkness makes him feel panicked for a moment, but then the bed dips and her hands find his.

He feels her move around a bit, and then one of her hands is on his cheek. Her nose bumps into his, which hurts a bit, and then she kisses him, light and a little clumsy and perfect.

Peter rests his head against her shoulder and lets his eyes fall closed. He falls asleep quickly and completely, breathing deep and even for the first time in quite a while.

thanks for reading!!! hope you liked it <3

#whumptober2023 #no.27 #let me see #the night agent #fic #peter sutherland #aftermath of torture #comfort #crying #my writing #i say things #i originally imagined a whole interlude in nyc but it didn't go w the prompt and was long as hell so i skipped that lmao #anyway. in a week i am going to be on a train on my trip yippee!!!!#yah my title yesterday was basically the same thing sorryyy #i hate titles so so so much grrrrrr

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hongism · 3 years

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my fave work is obviously MOC. you can really see how much time you invested in developing everything from the characters to the world to the story. and the plot is so rich. whenever i read, i’m constantly on edge (in a good way) wondering what’ll happen next. i also love the way that you worldbuild. instead of just suddenly dumping the info on us, you set it up perfectly and give us just enough for context while STILL leaving us wanting more!

the characters are so complex!! every character has their own flaws and yet we still root for them because of how strong their motivation is. (yes i’m even rooting for yeosang even though he’s a little shit) it adds to their realness, and you can see this when it comes to minor characters too! (like cara) even if you don’t like them, you can still understand their motivations and actions. not a single character falls flat and it’s so fucking awesome how well thought out everything is

your writing style is *chef’s fucking kiss!!* every sentence flows so smoothly to the next and i’m literally captivated by every single word. and i just love how your pacing and how you use it to build tension or slow things down so we can recover from the full blown action. and even when it comes to the action, everything is moving so fast and it’s exhilarating and makes me so nervous and excited. the roller coaster of emotions i go through while reading this leaves me in awe. i’ll literally be happy in one chapter, angry in one, and on the verge of tears in another. and sometimes i can feel all of these things in a SINGLE chapter. The writing is so vivid and you bring EVERYTHING to life and i’m left in awe every time i read a chapter.

and omg i love the interim chapters. it gives us a chance to learn more about the characters and their relationships. (honestly, if we didn’t have the interim chapters, i would definitely hate yeosang more than i do right now lmaoooo) and they also make me happy because i feel like it’s so hard for them to have moments of peace in the main plot. and honestly whenever they do, ngl i get uneasy cause i’m just like… something’s gonna happen which again goes to show how you always keep me on my toes and i love it!

YOUR USE OF ALLUSIONS!! I STILL HAVE CHILLS FROM THE SYMBOLISM OF THE EURYDICE AND I KNOW DAMN WELL THERE’S STILL OTHER THINGS THAT I LET SLIP BUT HOLY SHIT THAT IS SO AMAZING!! I would also like to take this moment to add that the amount of research you did is AMAZING. Every time Yunho would bust out his doctor knowledge i’m just like damnnnn you went in depth when doing this and i have so much respect and admiration for the amount of effort and love that went into this.

(If you had to take a shot every time i said amazing, you would have alcohol poisoning lmaoooo but i have no other words to express how fantastic Mists is.)

in conclusion, you are one of the greatest writers (i would say THE best but if i do you won’t accept the title so here we are) out here and you should be so proud of everything you’ve done and WILL do in the future. you really went all out with this series and i hope that everyone will read this because it’s the greatest fanfic i have EVER read in all my years of living. i’m so proud and honored to call you my friend. you inspire me so much and motivate me to tackle my own writing. keep up the beautiful work you’re doing and i cannot WAIT to see what’s to come. Love you!!🧡🧡🧡

...

YOU!!! I ALREADY SCREAMED AT YOU IN DMS FOR THIS BUT IM STILL!!! SO EMOTIONAL JUST READING THIS AGAIN!!!! AND LISTEN!! you deserve SO MUCH CREDIT FOR FIGURING OUT SO MUCH WITH THAT BIG BRAIN OF YOURS!! you have me sweating up a storm sO often with your theories and im still in awe that you figured out the Eurydice thing because No One has picked up on it aside from you and im just Stunned by your big brain and how EASILY you pick up on things like that 😭😭 and you are damn right i would NEVER accept the title of THE best and i BARELY accept the title of great let alone one of the greatest so GRRRRRR i know i always wanna square up with you but honestly can you blame me when you just eat sleep drink and breathe Cute Energy like this 😿😿 you know im always up in here rooting for you and im always in your corner no matter what so im always gonna be here to cheer you on with your writing T-T if i can do it then you aBSOLUTELY can!!! i love u so much kira grrrrr i dont say it enough but i love u to pieces 😡💖💖

#I LOVE U #moots #kira bby #my sunflower 🌻#submission

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ellana-ravenwood · 7 years

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“Titus likes you...too much” - Older!Damian Wayne x Reader

I know I said I wouldn’t write anything until Friday or Saturday, but I just realized this story was done and for some reason I didn’t post it so why not post it now right ? So here we go. Specially written for @loverandomness2. Some fluffy love for the youngest Wayne boy. I’m sorry if you didn’t want an older!Damian and if that’s not what you wanted at all but...yeah, hope you’ll like it :

PS : there’s a little surprise for @epickimmie somewhere in this fic. Hope it is ok that I did this. PPS : Also, this story kinda became some sort of sequel to another story I wrote with Damian, which is here : The First time is serious business.

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_______________________________________________

It was early in the morning when Damian finally came home. Came back to you.

It had been a few years since his father retired and Damian inherited the Batman’s cowl. Most nights, he was out fighting crimes in Gotham, though, since his dad’s younger years, G-city was way safer, and it often happened that Damian came home early, or sometimes, didn’t go out at all (besides, he still had the help of his brothers, and they took turn to watch over the city...so really, you often had times with him, even if he was also quite busy during the day, as he became Wayne Inc’s CEO as well). It didn’t mean that there wasn’t any work ever though, like tonight, a new guy who called himself the “Joker’s son” was menacing the streets, and Damian was exhausted as he finally came home...But really, more often than not, the city was now calm.

Bruce was beyond happy about that, as he sacrificed his own life so others wouldn't have to. Sometimes, when you went over to Wayne’s Manor (you and Damian moved in a penthouse in the heart of Gotham quite a while ago), you felt a bit sad for your father-in-law...But nowadays, seeing his sons happy sufficed to make him happier than ever since his parents’ death.

None of his children still lived in the Manor, but, now that they were all grown up and understood some of the difficult choices he had to take (it took Jason a little more than his brothers to get it), they all “forgave” him for any mistakes he might have done while trying the best he could to raise them, and often visited him and Alfred.

Besides, since a little while, a certain Selina Kyle finally decided to move in with him so, Damian’s father wasn’t lonely, and that was great. He could finally live his life, after all those years, after sacrificing his youth and health...Finally, he was at peace (or almost, as sometimes, he couldn’t stay away from the bat-computer and such).

As Damian came in your bedroom, shoulders hunched with fatigue, rubbing his face softly, you couldn’t help but be happy at the mere sight of him. You guys all came such a long way since you first met him...You were barely ten years old when you first encountered the youngest boy in the Wayne family, and so much had changed since those times.

************

Jason had a small flat on Gotham’s dock. He loved the ocean and its sound, and refused any bigger place his father offered to buy him. He was still Red Hood at night, but wasn’t as violent as he used to. He didn’t kill anymore. Especially since he found a girl that looked his opposite, and tamed him down (referencing this fic here : Cutie and the Beast). Hell, they even had healthy triplets. TRIPLETS ! Two boys and a girl. Quite a busy life, as those kids were a handful...You adored them. Cute little nephews and niece.

Dick moved to Bludhaven ages ago too, got married to a certain Lydia, the famous Superman’s daughter (though most people knew him just as retired journalist Clark Kent) (this is referencing a story by @soepicsokim, go check it out :-)), and was his same goofy and happy self. Especially when he was around his wife really. He often visited you guys to your apartment, and even though Damian was now a grown ass man, he still treated him like a child.

Tim was living in a house in Gotham’s suburb, and was still the same old nerd he always been. Except now, he shared his life with a nerdy wife, and one nerdy little girl of his own. Last time you saw him, they were building a rocket in their garden...Of course they would.

Finally, Damian, your Damian, was living with you in a beautiful apartment in Gotham Central, and after years of being lost, sad, lonely and angry, he finally found balance by your side. You were his rock, his anchor to reality, and to everything that was good in life. You helped him with your love, and he thanked god, or whoever was out there, everyday for putting you on his way, years ago. You were a student in his middle school, and the only one that didn’t judge him and such, and even talked back to him when he was being an ass. A damn smart (and quite stubborn) girl too. Of course he could only fall for you.

You’d been together for a long time before he finally popped the question, giving you his grandmother’s magnificent wedding ring he got from his father. You got married three years ago, a small and intimate reception with only close friends and family (his best friend, Jon Kent, also Dick’s wife little brother, made a tear jerking speech...not because it was emotional, but because it was very funny and awkward, so everyone just laughed so much they cried). It made every newspaper big title, “The last golden boy of Gotham, the only Wayne boy who wasn’t hitched...got hitched. And with a nobody !” Oh you hated the press.

Damian was so mad some newspaper disrespected you he bought them and made them apologize for six months straight...It was cute at first, but after the hundredth daily newspaper stating : “(Y/N) Wayne is the sweetest woman in Gotham”, you got a bit tired and embarrassed of it. Once Damian realized it, he made them stop, and of course, since then, no news from Gotham city (or elsewhere in fact) dared to even speak slightly ill of you.

************

Every night, you’d wait for him to come home back to you, worrying when he’d come through only in the earliest hours of the day.

When it was the case, it meant he had a rough night. Like today.

He didn’t seem injured, but definitely drained and weary. But when he entered your shared bedroom where he found you, still awake, watching TV, a bright smile on your face as he came in, his features relaxed, and he lost ten years when he smiled back at you, of a genuine and happy smile full of sappy love.

He undressed down to his boxers, and approached your bed...Only to stop in front of it, frowning quite like his father used to, and with a little “Tt” while he was looking at a massive form next to you, he says :

-...I think Titus really likes you.

You smile at him and look at his huge dog besides you, that you guys were finally able to bring back from the Manor to your apartment. With a mischievous smirk, you say :

-Oh ? What makes you think that ?

-Oh I don’t know. Maybe the fact that this damn dog takes up more of the bed than I do !

-Hey, babe, it’s your dog. Besides, you’re not even in bed yet.

-Because he takes most of it, he’s even taking my place in your arms...

-He’s protecting the baby.

Damian cannot help the smiles that creeps on his face, as he tries to get into bed (difficult task with Titus in it already). The baby. His baby. Your baby.

His heart beats wildly just at the memories of when he found out you were with child. He almost fainted of joy.

*****************

You waited the perfect moment. A family dinner at the Manor. The room was full of laughter, stupid jokes, and giggles from your nephews and nieces. Everyone was just talking about anything and everything. It was a joyful moment. When you just blurted out : “I’m pregnant”, quickly followed by a “The family’s gonna have one more little one soon”, and the room went silent.

Bruce was the first to react, laughing like a mad man at the news, unable to hold his happiness about the prospect to be a grandfather again (he was an even better grandfather than a father). Selina quickly followed and congratulated you. Dick lost his shit and jumped up and down in the entire dining room, until Lydia got a hold of him and soothed him back to a slightly less excited him. Jason chuckled and, looking at his own kids, rubbed his little brother’s shoulders tenderly. Tim, his daughter asleep in his arms, smiled widely and said something about hoping he or she would be a genius like you and Damian, because he wished he could teach his nephews and nieces something, and Jason’s triplets were just too...full of life to concentrate on anything.

The glare Jason gave Tim made everyone laugh, and the attention went back to you and Damian. To you and a very pale Damian. You were afraid he didn’t want this child with you until...He raised to his feet, and went to you, pulling you up in one of the best hug you ever received in your life. His warm embrace was everything you needed.

Under his family’s applause, you truly became the happiest woman in the World. And he never felt such joy in his life. A child. Your child.

-Our child...

He whispered in your ear, tightening his grip on you.

***********

-Grrrrrr.

Damian instinctually takes a step away from you and “his” dog, as Titus grunts at him. Visibly, “his” dog allegiance shifted to his unborn child, as the hound refuses to let your husband come close from you and your swollen belly.

-He’s groaning at me ! He’s taking most of my own damn bed, and he dares to groan at me ! He never groaned at me before !

You can’t hold the little giggle that escapes your lips in front of your Damian’s pouty and stunned face, which makes him even broodier. You push Titus a bit on the side (he doesn’t resist, after all, right now, his sole purpose is to protect you and the baby from anyone...which includes his own master) and reach for the love of your life.

-You trained him too well honey, he’s really shielding me and our baby from any danger !

-I’m not a danger, I’m your husband !

-But how does he know you’re not a threat ?

-I never even did anything that could make him think that !

-Hey, don’t yell at me babe, he’s gonna take it the wrong way !

Damian narrows his eyes at you and his traitor of a dog, but soon realizes you’re only mocking him, and he chuckles lowly.

-Damn woman, you’re driving me crazy. Quite literally.

-Even after all those years ? Yay, go me !

He chuckles some more, and it’s such a sweet sound that you wished you could freeze time and hear his soft laugh forever. You love when he feels so comfortable with you, that he lets go of his stoic self to allow himself to smile and laugh. Only you, have that effect on him (and sometimes Dick too, because that man was just so damn silly).

-My problem still isn’t solved though.

-What problem ?

-(Y/N), there’s a dog where I’m suppose to sleep, I’m really, REALLY tired, and he groans at me whenever I approach you. I’d say it’s a problem.

-Oh right. Yeah. Just a second.

You lock your gaze on Titus, and the dog instantly stares at you. You turn your head toward the end of the bed, and the animal respond with a whiney noise. You insist, and with a small exasperated growl (yes, dogs can make exasperated noises !), he rises on his feet, looks at his own master suspiciously, and goes to lay down at the bottom of the bed. Said bed is so big, that he can sleep there without bothering you or your giant ass husband.

Damian looks at you, a bit confused, and says :

-...Did you just...Did you just talk to our dogs with your eyes ?

You shake your head positively. Of course you did. You always had a special connection with animals, and Titus was a good boy.

Damian looks at you, then at “his” dog, then back at you, and sighs. He almost miss the days when his dog was a puppy and did everything he told him to do...but in those days, you weren’t in his life, so he couldn’t really ever regret them. There was no living without you, no Damian without (Y/N).

Making sure Titus won’t do anything, he slowly crawl into bed, and carefully comes closer to you, until you rest at his side. He’s still a bit uneasy at the way his dog follows him with his eyes though. Ready to intervene if there’s any problem (it kinda reassures him though, that his dog is that protective of you and your unborn baby, because it means he can leave you sometimes and know you’ll be ok).

A loving hand on your stomach, his free arm behind your head, you snuggle against him, nuzzling his neck, and he lets out a content sigh. He’s finally home. He has you in his arms. He can even feel his future son kicking.

Everything is perfect.

You raise on your elbow and bend over his body, smiling sweetly at him. He, of course, returns your smile, and raises his head to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

-Did I say I love you today ?

-I don’t think so, no.

-Well, I love you (Y/N).

-It’s funny.

-Why ?

-Cause I love you too. Always have, probably always will.

-Probably ?

-Well, you never know...

You tease him, he knows it. And he loves it. With his trademark “batsmirk”, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you down on him, giving you an extremely cute esquimo kiss (he sure was glad that none of his brothers or friends were around, they would totally make fun of him for being so cheesy).

-I hope you’ll always love me. It would kill me to loose you...

-So dramatic.

-And yet I speak the truth. I cannot live without you (Y/N).

Your heart skip a beat. Why did he have to be so charming and attractive ? He stares back at you with his beautiful green eyes, and you can’t help but plant loving kisses on his soft and sweet skin you love so much. You have a quick thought about how much he looks like his father, except for the eyes and darker skin, and you smile because if he ages like his dad...Well damn.

-I love you Dami. So much.

-I love you too (Y/N), so much it hurts. Don’t ever leave, please.

-I don’t make that promise unless you do the same.

-I don’t intend on ever leaving you. Or our future child.

-Well good, because I’m not going anywhere.

-Good.

He raises on his elbow, and as you plop down on the bed, he straddles you, as he knows you love how his body shields you. His hands are on each side of your face, deft fingers putting a strand of wild (H/C) hair behind your ear, and caressing your cheek with their tip. His legs are on each side of you. You’re trapped in his embrace. And you love it. He’s about to bend down and kiss you when...

-OUCH !! WHAT THE HELL TITUS ?! HE BIT ME ! TITUS JUST FUCKING BIT ME !?

The sound of your laughter at the overprotectiveness of “your” dog toward your unborn child resonate through the entire apartment.

FIN.

Hope you liked it. I’m a bit afraid it’s not what you wanted, @loverandomness2.

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