Ash

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Taglist: @melschemmentitties

the card sits in your palm, black and unassuming, still warm from where her fingers pressed it into your hand.

sevika had grunted something about getting yourself something nice while she handled business.

her amber eyes already scanning the crowded zaunite market street. mind a thousand miles away.

you'd nodded, slipped it into your pocket, and tried not to think about the weight of it.

that was three hours ago.

now you stand in the doorway of her apartment, arms laden with glossy shopping bags, your chest tight with something that feels suspiciously like guilt.

the place smells like her—oil, metal, that faint trace of cigar smoke that clings to her coat. she's at the table.

a half-disassembled mechanical part spread across the worn wood, her brow furrowed in concentration as she works a stubborn bolt loose with her human hand.

"sev."

she doesn't look up. "mm."

"i... i maybe went a little crazy."

at that, she pauses. the bolt clatters onto the table.

she turns, and her gaze sweeps over you and the bags, the new leather jacket hanging open over your shoulders.

the way you're shifting your weight from foot to foot like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

one eyebrow lifts. "yeah?"

you swallow. "i spent, like... a lot."

sevika leans back in her chair, the wood groaning under her weight.

she wipes a smear of grease across her jaw, studying you with that unreadable expression she wears like armor. "how much is a lot?"

you don't answer.

instead, you cross to her, setting the bags down with a rustle of tissue paper, and pull out the receipt.

it's long. embarrassingly long. you hand it to her like a confession.

she takes it. reads it. a beat of silence.

then she lets out a low chuckle, rough and warm, and crumples the paper into her pocket. "bunny. i told you to get whatever you wanted."

"but this is—"

"nothing." she reaches out, catches your wrist, and pulls you down into her lap.

you go easily, your thighs bracketing her hips, the metal of her prosthetic hand cool through the fabric of your jeans as it settles on your waist.

her human hand cups your cheek, calloused thumb stroking across your cheekbone. "it's just money. you think i give a shit about money?"

you bite your lip. "i don't want to take advantage of you."

sevika snorts. "sweetheart, if you were gonna take advantage, you'd have bought a lot more than some clothes and jewelry."

her thumb traces down to your lower lip, tugging it free from your teeth. "you spent a fraction of what i keep in that account. and you know what?"

you shake your head, breath catching.

"i was hoping you'd spend more." her voice drops, rougher now, that low register that sends heat curling through your belly.

"wanted to see you come back with your arms full. wanted to see you spoiled."

your heart hammers against your ribs. "why?"

she holds your gaze, something flickering in the amber depths of her eyes. vulnerability, maybe, or want.

it's gone before you can name it. "because you deserve it. and because i like knowing that when you wear that necklace, or that jacket, or those little lacy things you probably hid at the bottom of the bag..."

her hand slides down, palm pressing flat against your stomach. "you'll think of me."

you shiver. "sev..."

"let me spoil you, bunny." it's not a question. it's a quiet demand, softened by the way her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. "let me take care of you. that's all i want."

and what can you do but nod, leaning into her touch, letting her pull you closer?

what can you do but press your forehead to hers and breathe her in?

her smell of oil and smoke and something warmer underneath...

she holds you there, in the quiet of her apartment, the bags forgotten on the floor. her prosthetic hums faintly as it tightens around your waist.

and her human hand cards through your hair, gentle in a way that makes your chest ache.

"there's a dinner place i know," she murmurs against your temple. "rooftop. views of the whole city. you wanna go?"

"with you?"

"who else would i take?"

you smile, small and soft, and press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "yeah. i'd like that."

sevika's lips twitch, almost a smile, almost something tender and she stands, lifting you with her like you weigh nothing.

you squeak, grabbing her shoulders, and she chuckles, that low rumble vibrating through her chest.

"c'mon. let's get you changed into something fancy. i wanna see you in that dress you bought."

"how do you know i bought a dress?"

"because i know you, sweetheart. now go." she sets you down, swatting your ass lightly. "i'll wait."

you grab a bag, the one with the deep emerald dress, the one you'd hesitated over for twenty minutes before giving in and disappeared into her bedroom.

when you emerge, zipped and smoothed and feeling like someone else entirely, she's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

her eyes go dark. hungry.

"fuck," she breathes. "you're beautiful."

and the most expensive thing she's given you today isn't the dress, or the jewelry, or the card with no limit.

it's the way she looks at you, like you're the only thing in zaun worth keeping.

the rooftop dinner had been everything you didn't know you needed.

sevika had pulled out your chair, gruff and awkward about it, like she wasn't used to doing things like that.

she'd ordered for you both in that low, commanding voice, and when the food came.

rich and spiced and nothing like the street vendor fare you usually survived on, she'd watched you take the first bite with an intensity that made your cheeks warm.

"good?" she'd asked, and you'd nodded, mouth full, and she'd almost smiled.

the city sprawled below, zaun's neon veins pulsing in the darkness, and she'd reached across the table halfway through the meal to take your hand.

her thumb traced lazy circles on your knuckles while you talked about nothing and everything.

and for a few hours, you forgot about the weight of the card in your wallet, the bags in her apartment, the nagging voice that whispered you didn't deserve this.

now you're back in her apartment, the door clicking shut behind you, and the air has changed.

the heels you'd worn, strappy black things she'd eyed all night are kicked off by the door.

your clutch lands on the counter with a soft thud.

sevika shrugs off her jacket, hanging it with more care than she usually gives her belongings, and when she turns to face you, her eyes are dark.

"did you have a good time?" she asks, and her voice is rougher than it was at the restaurant.

you nod, stepping closer. "the best."

"yeah?" she reaches out, fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. her touch lingers. "good."

you're close enough now to smell her, cigar smoke and the faint cologne she'd put on for the evening.

something woodsy and expensive that makes your head spin.

her prosthetic hums softly as she lifts it, the cool metal fingertips grazing your collarbone, tracing the line of the necklace she'd bought you earlier that day.

"this looks good on you," she murmurs, more to herself than to you. "knew it would."

your breath catches. "sev..."

"come here." it's not a request. her hand slides to the back of your neck, guiding you forward, and you go willingly, pressing against her, feeling the heat of her body through the thin fabric of your dress.

she kisses you like she's been waiting all night to do it.

her mouth is firm, insistent, her human hand tangling in your hair while the metal one splays across your lower back, pulling you flush against her.

you gasp into her mouth, and she swallows the sound, walking you backward until your shoulders hit the wall.

"been thinking about this all night," she admits against your lips, breath hot and uneven.

"watching you across that table. the way the candlelight caught your eyes. the way you smiled when you thought i wasn't looking."

"i was looking," you whisper. "i couldn't stop."

a low sound rumbles in her chest—something between a growl and a groan, and she kisses you again, deeper this time, her tongue sliding against yours.

her metal hand drops to your thigh, gripping, lifting, and you wrap your leg around her hip without hesitation.

"bedroom," you manage, breathless. "now."

she doesn't argue.

she scoops you up, one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back, and carries you across the apartment like you weigh nothing.

the door to her room swings open with a kick, and then you're on the bed, the cool sheets a shock against your heated skin as she lays you down.

she hovers over you, propped on her elbows, her gaze tracing every inch of your face.

her human hand cups your jaw, thumb stroking across your cheekbone, and for a moment, the hunger in her eyes softens into something tender.

"you're so beautiful," she says, and her voice cracks on the word, like she can't quite believe she's allowed to have this. "you have no idea what you do to me."

you reach up, tangling your fingers in the short hair at the nape of her neck. "show me."

she does.

her mouth trails down your throat, hot and open-mouthed, teeth scraping against your pulse point.

you arch into her, a shaky moan escaping your lips, and she groans against your skin, her metal hand sliding down your side, over the curve of your hip, gripping the hem of your dress.

"this needs to go," she mutters, and there's a note of impatience in her voice that makes you smile.

"then take it off."

she sits back, and the sight of her. flushed, pupils blown, chest heaving makes your stomach flip.

she works the zipper down with practiced ease, her human hand steady, her metal one gentle, and then the dress is pooling around your waist, and her breath catches.

"fuck, bunny." her voice is hoarse. "you're trying to kill me."

you're wearing the lingerie you'd bought earlier—deep burgundy lace, delicate and expensive, the kind of thing you'd never have bought for yourself.

but she'd given you the card, and you'd thought of her, and now the way she's looking at you makes every penny worth it.

"you like it?" you ask, and your voice comes out smaller than you intended, vulnerable.

she leans down, pressing a kiss to your sternum, right between your breasts. "i love it. i love you."

the words hang in the air, heavy and raw, and your heart stutters.

she freezes, like she hadn't meant to say it, like she's waiting for you to pull away.

instead, you tug her down, wrapping your arms around her neck, pressing your forehead to hers. "i love you too," you whisper. "i've loved you for so long."

something in her breaks. she kisses you again, desperate and searching, and her hands roam your body like she's memorizing you.

the dip of your waist, the curve of your hip, the soft skin of your inner thigh.

she takes her time, worshipping every inch of you, murmuring praises against your skin.

"so perfect. so good for me. my good girl."

you're trembling by the time she reaches the apex of your thighs, her metal fingers cool against the heat of you.

and she pauses, looking up at you with those amber eyes, dark and wanting.

"tell me what you need, sweetheart."

you can barely form words. "you. just you."

she smiles. a real smile, soft and rare, and she lowers her head.

and when she finally brings you undone, her name on your lips, her mouth still working you through the aftershocks.

you realize that the most expensive thing she's given you isn't the dress, or the jewelry, or the card with no limit.

it's this. her. the way she holds you after, tucking you against her chest.

her metal arm wrapped around your waist, her lips pressing gentle kisses to your hairline.

"mine," she murmurs, half-asleep, and you feel it in your bones.

"yours," you agree, and let yourself drift off in her arms.

mae mae's ending notes: first sevika fic!! hey hey everybody!! hope you enjoyed :D this was made and inspired by @dearbaes !!

the bau is often eerily quiet after hours.

most people head out around nine, going home to their families or going out drinking with colleagues. but you didn’t drink and you had more than enough time to see your family members. and so, more often than not, you stayed back to finish up the necessary case files and paperwork for your teammates, often pouring in late hours and leaving after the janitors in order to get it all done.

tonight was one of those nights. a particularly hard case had swept through the bau, leaving it more silent than usual. aside from your gentle pen scratches you could hear next to nothing in the walls around you.

besides her.

emily prentiss had joined the team a few years back and was, subsequently, your superior by all means. though naturally you were drawn in my her soft brown eyes and that soft way she regarded you — it wasn’t rare to see her here later than the others either.

one time you’d jokingly asked about it, getting in response a quick; “sergio eats enough as it is, he can miss one meal.”

through trial and error (aka sneaking into her office to see her desk photos) you learned that was just her cat and not some tall european man she kept around at home whom was set on a specific eating schedule and what not.

regardless, after tonight’s case you weren’t surprised to see her office light still on. nor were you when she would sigh, or when her mumbles would bleed through the wall and waft to your cubicle. your brows were lightly furrowed, concern washed over your features. your work had been finished ten minutes ago, yet you stayed.

and despite yourself, one more sigh from her was all it took for you to walk over, gently knocking on the door before peeking in. “agent prentiss, are you okay?”

emily glanced up from her work, her lip chewed between her teeth. those big brown eyes of hers were slightly widened, but she schooled her expression quickly and swallowed, murmuring. “i’m fine, hon.” clearing her throat, she leaned back in her chair. “are you… all done for the night?”

“mm,” you nod softly, hesitating but stepping into her office, slipping the door shut. “can I help you? so you don’t have to stay so long?”

her eyes narrow slightly, not in a mean way. she hums, nodding you over. your feet lead you to her desk and she slides the chair slightly, eyes linger on your form as you lean forward and glance through her case file. your eyes flash to every blank, but they’re all filled in. “agent prentiss—”

“emily.” she corrects, tongue darting out over her lips. “no need for that.”

warmth climbs sweetly up your neck, as her hand loosely straightens your outfit. softly, you speak. “the whole file is already done, ma’am..”

a sigh escapes emily’s lips. “god I love it when you call me that.”

the warm feeling hits your cheeks as her hands find your hips, slowly guiding you to sit on her lap. you don’t squeak or even jump at the action - no, you’re too accustomed to her touch, leaning back against her, emily’s hands wander to your tummy as her lips press to your neck.

“gorgeous girl,” she whispers. “…’jus need to unwind a bit, baby. you don’t mind, mm?” her hand slipped slowly between a crack in your blouse, the buttons popping as she slid up, cupping your breast. “..you always let me do what I want, hm?”

a shiver rolls through your body. “..yes ma’am.”

emily smiles into your neck, her warm breath traveling down as she leans, nipping your shoulder. her hand squeezes your bra-clad breast, squeezing slowly before slipping under and toying with your slowly hardening nipple. you press into her hand, a week moan leaving your lips.

“ah..”

“do you like that?” she husks, eyes flicking to your closed ones. she leans, pecking kisses to your jaw. “always so responsive, baby. god you’re so sweet to me, my little doll. part your legs, would you? god, look at you..”

her praise makes your heart flurry and your head fuzzy, but you obediently do as she asks — parting your legs under your skirt and leaning back into her — head briefly tilting to meet her lips. she tastes of cherries and wine and her lips are soft with tiny cracks from her constantly biting. but still your addicted to the slow way she uses her own to part your lips, her tongue slipping inside easily and marking areas she already knew too well.

emily’s jaw twitches, free hand sliding to unzip your skirt - peeling it down your body until it loops at your feet. her hand slides across your thigh and leaves goosebumps in its wake, making you shiver and her chuckle.

“all needy for me baby? I like that.. want you like this all the- mm.. time…” she murmurs between slow kisses as her middle and ring finger meet your panties - rubbing a strip up and down the length of your pussy. you shiver, the feather light touch sending jolts up your body starting at your feet and ending at your shoulders. you practically buzz with delight, whimpering into her sweet kisses.

emily’s fingers part you through your pants, sliding through the dampness to circle your clit - rubbing it slowly and achingly in order to make it just barely peak from its hood. you’re so response; body lifting up to meet her touches as she breaks the kiss to suck open-mouth marks across faded ones on your neck. there’s nothing she loves more than marking what’s hers.

“mmh..please, em..”

a coo falls from her lips. softly, emily pulls her hand away enough to slip down into your panties, meeting your wet cunt head on with slow rubs. “god, you’re so wet… mmh, you needed me so bad..I know, I know baby, shhh,” she coos, brows pinching condescendingly. “you’re so wet, baby..so, so wet..don’t worry, ‘m gonna help you…gonna make you feel better, ‘promise…”

your head weakly floods with affection, hands shifting to grip onto the sides of her chair as she slides her fingers down to meet your entrance head on, sliding in in one easy swoop. your hips buck, a moan tumbling from your lips.

“a-ah—! ma’am..!”

emily hums in response, fingers delving in and out of your cunt at a steady yet quick pace, the wet noises echoing across the room as she fingers you. “feels good, mm? you like that? of course you do, my sweet little girl..give me what I want, baby..”

her words wound you up further, a tight knot forming in your tummy - hot and shooting sparks through your body. you tremble and shift on her lap - your wetness dripping slightly onto her thighs. “m-‘m trying..”

“I know, I know baby,” emily coos, kissing your neck again. “you just can’t help but take a bit, hm? my dumb little girl, that’s okay..I can wait..”

“hh,” you whine weakly, squirming more. “m-ma’am..”

emily perks. “are you close? you wanna cum for me?”

you nod quickly, shifting and turning to bury your head against her neck. emily bites her lips, watching as her hand begins to move quicker on its own under your drenched panties. her words turn huskier, dirtier. “do it, baby. make a mess for me..cum on my hand like a good little girl. fuck,” she groans. “so cute like this, so so cute, my pretty angel, my darling girl..”

her words shoot straight to your core, as does your orgasm.

with a final soft cry you jolt, the wave hitting you heavy. your limbs tingle, thighs shaking sweetly as it hits you, and with a soft whine you go lax against her, making emily coo. her freehand slowly reaches to rub your abdomen, fingers slowing inside of you before stopping completely and slipping out - wet and coated in you.

emily wastes no time in raising the digits to her lips, sucking them in and licking them clean with a groan. “fuck,” she pants when she tugs them out, turning to kiss your lips, hard enough to jolt you back to reality. she pulls away, but not before pecking again. “so good for me baby. do you think you can walk?”

“..mm-mm.”

emily bites her lip, smiling as she slowly hooks her arms around you and hoists you up, standing and rubbing your back as your limp legs wrap softly around her. “so cute..” comes her soft whisper. “don’t worry, i’ll take you home baby.. then we can have more fun, okay? you want that, yeah? wanna help me destress a bit?”

your head nods along as your arms wrap around her neck. “yeah..”

emily smiles softly.

“good girl.”

Why did Pepper have to be pregnant at the same time as you? You nearly throw up at the sight of her when she turns up the Avengers compound for a visit – about six months pregnant, same as you. That was the only similarity. Pepper was positively glowing whilst you felt like a beached whale. Wanda insists that you look beautiful which only makes you feel worse. Every word that comes out of Pepper’s mouth makes you murderous.

“I haven’t had any morning sickness, it’s crazy,” She says, running one hand over her round stomach. “It’s been a dream to be honest.”

Well if she’s having a dream pregnancy, you must be having a nightmare one. You’d had morning sickness from the get go and had been reassured that it would probably disappear after your first trimester. It hadn’t. Literally anything could make you feel nauseous, and you were still being sick most mornings. Your feet and ankles are so swollen and you’re tired, pretty much all the time, but when you get into bed you’re so uncomfortable that you can’t get to sleep.

“You should’ve carried the baby!” You whine that night as Wanda patiently rubs your feet. “Why did it have to be me?”

“You wanted to my love.”

“Well I take it back, put the baby in your womb instead.”

“You only have three months left, and it’ll be worth it when you’re holding our precious baby in your arms,” Wanda says, continuing to rub your sore feet. “I love you so much.”

You and Wanda had been dating for five years now, and last year you’d both decided that you wanted a baby. Both of you were interested in adopting one day, especially since you yourself had been adopted as a child, but you also wanted your own baby. After long discussions you’d decided to go with an anonymous sperm donor and you both agreed that you would carry the baby. Partly because no one was sure how Wanda’s pregnancy would progress and how it would affect the baby to be carried by an enhanced individual, but also you’d wanted to be pregnant. You wanted to carry your baby, to feel that bond before they were even out in the world.

It was hard though. Pregnancy affected every woman differently and for you, it was like you’d been hit by a truck. Luckily, Wanda had been your rock. Every morning she was by your side, holding your hair back and rubbing her hand up and down your back. If you needed anything, she’d fetch it for you. You only had to ask and she’d rub your shoulders, your back, your feet, anything that you wanted. Once Tony had caught Wanda dabbing your forehead with a damp cloth because you’d complained you were too hot and he’d laughed, “Pepper never asks me to do anything like that for her.”

“Then you’re a shit husband,” Wanda had shot back. “Y/N’s carrying our child; I’d do anything she wanted to make her a bit more comfortable. She doesn’t even need to ask, I just do it.”

That had shut him up.

Wanda bends down to kiss your cheek, “You do look beautiful. All puffy and red-faced.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She grins, kissing you properly this time, “I’m serious, I think you look adorable.”

Wanda’s love for you had been always been one thing you could count on ever since you got together. When you’d joined the Avengers Wanda hadn’t been shy about the fact she was interested in you, even though she wasn’t sure if you liked girls at first. In training Wanda never missed an opportunity to flirt with you. You’d felt the same way and eventually Wanda had asked you on a proper date. Every single day Wanda would come find you, giving you plenty of hugs and kisses. Which were very much appreciated at the minute given how lousy you were feeling.

The next morning you wake up and find Wanda gone. That’s not like her and you frown as you crawl out of bed, feeling the usual wave of nausea that’s plagued you every single morning for the past five months. You hate throwing up so you can’t help shedding a few tears as you crouch awkwardly over the toilet, wishing that Wanda was here to soothe you like she normally does. Where has she gone?

You feel so lousy that you climb back into bed, too exhausted to find the energy to try and dress yourself. Wanda had insisted on buying you loads of maternity clothes, telling you with every outfit just how beautiful you looked even though you were sure she was full of shit. That was Wanda though, always telling you that you looked pretty even if you didn’t, always taking care of you… Except this morning, when she’d randomly disappeared.

After an hour of feeling sorry for yourself you begin to feel even worse when you realise Wanda’s still not back yet, and you have no idea where she’s gone. You climb out of bed and pull on your dressing gown over your maternity nightgown – it doesn’t do up anymore but never mind, you really can’t be bothered to get dressed, not without Wanda here to help. It takes a while but you manage to get your slippers on then waddle out into the compound, going in search of Wanda.

It’s not like you and Wanda have been joint at the hip for the past six months – you are capable of taking care of yourself, and you have done while she’s been at work. Waking up and finding her not there though has thrown you, as she always gives you a kiss before going to training, no matter how yucky you feel when you wake up. Your first point of call is the kitchen but she’s not in there. She’s not in the gym either, and none of the meeting rooms are booked in her name.

Eventually you find her in the living room and you pause in the doorway as you see her laughing on the couch with Natasha. The sight of your girlfriend laughing with someone else makes your heart plummet and your eyes immediately prickle with tears. Especially since Natasha is so beautiful – she always looks so put together no matter how difficult a mission has been. You’ve never felt insecure next to her before but given how gross you feel now that you’re pregnant; it’s like looking at the sun and the moon. Or the sun and a garbage can.

When Wanda notices you she immediately jumps up from the couch which only makes you feel worse. She stood up so quick – did she not want you to see her with Natasha? Why had she gotten out of bed so early and left you all alone?

“Hey baby,” Wanda greets, kissing your cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Where were you?”

“This morning? Oh… Just decided to get some early training in.”

“Didn’t look like you were training.”

Wanda laughs at your sulky tone which doesn’t help your mood. She wraps her arms around you and kisses your cheek, “I was just taking a break-”

“It doesn’t look like you’ve been training at all actually. I needed you.”

Wanda looks surprised by your irritated tone and she takes a step back, holding her hands up defensively, “Wow, okay. I just… Figured you could use a bit more sleep. I didn’t realise you’d woken up, sorry.”

“You should’ve been there, not getting cozy with Nat.”

Wanda raises her eye-brows, “Getting cozy? We were just talking, I- Y/N, you’re overreacting.”

“I needed you there to help me, I’m carrying our baby in case you forgot-”

“Of course I didn’t, jeez, I just- I was having five minutes with Nat, she’s our friend, what’s your problem?”

“You think she’s prettier than me.”

“What?”

“You didn’t deny it; you think Natasha is prettier than me.” You burst into tears, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Instead of moving to comfort you, Wanda groans and rolls her eyes, “I didn’t- I never said that. Why are you acting like this?”

“You don’t love me anymore.”

“Oh my- I can’t deal with you right now. I mean, I’ve been doing everything for you, what more do you want? You’re acting pathetic. Get a grip Y/N, I’m allowed to have friends.”

Wanda stalks out of the room and you head back to the bedroom you share with Wanda, sobbing loudly the entire way there. Last night you’d barely slept, your feet still hurt, and you just feel disgusting. Seeing Pepper yesterday hadn’t helped at all. Why did she still look so beautiful? Was this a bad omen? If pregnancy didn’t agree with you then did that mean you were destined to be a bad Mom?

You climb into the bed and cry harder as you think about Wanda. Has she grown sick of you? You wouldn’t blame her if she had; you knew you weren’t as fun as you used to be. Every day was so difficult, consumed by sickness, exhaustion, mood swings, aches and pains. You and Wanda have always been friends with Natasha but you can’t help replaying that moment when you’d caught them giggling together on the couch. When was the last time that Wanda had giggled with you like that? Why had she lied about where she was that morning?

Maybe she’s planning on leaving you. And where would that leave you? Getting back into work as an Avenger is going to be difficult enough with a baby, let alone if you have to raise them by yourself. But more to the point, you want Wanda around because you love her. There will never be anyone that you love as much as Wanda.

Fifteen minutes later you’re still crying loudly, probably looking uglier than ever when the door opens and the bed dips as Wanda sits down next to you, “Hey, hey… I’m sorry for snapping at you. Please don’t cry my love.”

“I don’t wanna raise the baby alone!”

Wanda strokes her fingers through your hair, “Now why would you be raising our baby alone?”

“Because you’re going to leave me for Natasha.”

“Right… And why would I do that?”

“Because she’s prettier and more fun than me.”

Wanda bends down to kiss your forehead and then gently wipes at the tears on your cheeks, “No baby, she’s not. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, and I’ve never had as much fun with anyone else as I have with you.”

“You weren’t here when I woke up!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I wanted to surprise you.”

Wanda helps you sit up, wiping a final tear from your cheek as she shows you the box of cupcakes she’d bought, “I woke up early to go to that bakery we love. You said you were craving the strawberry cupcakes and I wanted to get there as soon as they opened in case they sold out. I was going to give them to you after dinner later. I didn’t mean to get caught up with Natasha, I just felt like I hadn’t seen her for ages and I got carried away.”

“That’s my fault,” You sniffle. “You’ve been too busy taking care of me.”

“Taking care of my very pregnant, very emotional girlfriend. But no, I should’ve made more of an effort to keep up with her; it’s not your fault.” Wanda sits behind you, letting you lean back against her chest as she gathers you into her arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, I didn’t mean to. I just got defensive because…”

You sniffle as Wanda thinks about what she wants to say. “I love you so much,” She eventually says. “And I didn’t appreciate the implication that I’d leave you just because you’re not… What did you even say? That you’re not ‘fun’?”

“Well, I’m not,” You mumble. “Pepper was practically glowing and she’s still working at the minute. I can barely get out of bed, I’m just so tired-”

“You’re doing all that for our precious baby,” Wanda says, kissing your forehead. “I love you so much, especially right now. You’re carrying our baby and I think that’s incredible, I don’t think you’re ugly or any other horrible thing you say about yourself. I could never leave you.”

“Maybe… Maybe I overreacted.”

“You were just worried ‘cos you woke up alone. And your hormones are all over the place, I should’ve been more understanding.”

“No, you’re doing amazing Wands; I’m not surprised you lost your patience. In fact, I’m surprised you didn’t lose it sooner.” You nuzzle into her chest. “You really have done everything for me, I didn’t mean to be so…”

Wanda kisses the top of your head, “I love helping you. I love you and we’re both going to love this baby so much.”

You let Wanda rock you gently in your arms, and you finally relax a little bit. “Can I have one of those cupcakes then?”

Wanda laughs, “Yeah baby, of course. I bought them for you.”

Bright lights flash in your eye as you maneuver the crowded bar, squeezing your torso in between sweaty bodies. Your hands double fist some cocktails, raising them up high over the crowd to avoid spills.

You finally make it to the booth, setting yours and Trinity's fruity drinks down. You wiggle yourself back into your seat, hips adjusting against the cushiony fabric.

Halfway through your first sip, you finally pick your eyes up and see a new addition across the booth. Familiar broad shoulders, scruffy cheeks, and sloped nose take up real estate in your line of vision. Your heart stops.

Your lips go limp around your straw when your eyes meet, cheeks heating up as you place the frilly glass back on the table. You anxiously move two strands of hair behind your ears, averting your gaze immediately away from him.

"Hi," Robby mutters, quiet, but you know it's to you. "You look nice."

You can't help the smile that creeps up your lips, a small 'thanks' leaving them. You dart your eyes to see his own sly smile, knowing eyes and red cheeks communicating to you everything he can't say.

You're beautiful, that top is incredible, I want to sit next to you.

The red, silky fabric wrapping around your torso, and pushing up your tits, is his favorite. You wore it on your second date, paired with the same slinky skirt adorning your hips now.

The last time you wore this outfit, it ended up on Robby's floor until morning, the sun illuminating all of the previous night's decisions. His eyes scan you now, taking his sweet time raking his brown irises down your curves.

You shift in your seat, heart racing at his pointed gaze. Trinity clocks you squirming, darting her eyes to Robby, openly eye fucking you in a booth full of coworkers. She ducks her head behind her drink to hide her gagging, and you kick her shin under the table.

"Bitch!" She whisper yells, and you stifle a laugh with your hand.

Dana stumbles in, then, ripping her messenger bag off her shoulders, her short blonde hair falling loose around her face.

"God, I need a drink," she groans, and Trinity laughs.

"What the hell happened to you?" She asks, checking her phone. "It's only been an hour and a half since our shift ended."

"It's called: 'trying to get your twenty year old to get off her phone and go to sleep'," she says into her sweatshirt sleeve.

"Oh fuck no," Trinity replies, taking a sip of her drink.

"Yeah," she groans, picking her head up and resting her chin in her hand. "She’s been having nightmares too, since she’s been home from school, makes it even harder."

You pout your lips, heart twisting for the young lady.

"Poor thing," you sympathize, and she nods, rolling her eyes.

"Have you tried an oil diffuser?" A voice calls from across the booth.

All eyes turned to Robby, such an out of character comment from the chief attending. It's silent for a moment as the table processes this information. His cheeks turn pink, an embarrassed smile on his lips.

"An oil diffuser, Robinavitch?" Dana asks, eyes wide open now. "Like, essential oils and shit?"

He nods, holding his hands up in surrender.

"I know, I know," he addresses the crazed looks. "My therapist recommended it. Lavender has helped with my nightmares."

Again, absolutely dumbfounded looks. Not from you, though, because you know he wouldn't have really followed through with this advice if you hadn't intervened.

Dana’s face twists in all kinds of different directions, ultimately landing in consideration. She tilts her head side to side, as if shaking the idea around in her brain.

"Hm," she says, "I might just have to try it. At this point, I'm desperate."

"Okay, Papa Robinavitch," Trinity snaps her fingers at him, and you want to kick her shin under the table.

He reddens even deeper at this, and you ache to kiss it away. You just sink your teeth into your bottom lip, stifling your lovesick grin.

"God," he laughs. "That ship has sailed, trust me."

Your blood runs cold at this, your entire body tensing at his words. Trinity feels this, your thigh going rigid against hers. She gives you a quick glance, assessing the situation before proceeding.

"Really?" Dana asks, doing the work for Trin. "You don't have any more paternal insight in there?"

He shrugs, playing with the label on his beer.

"I don't know, I guess I might. I've helped some friends over the years, always thought I might have some one day, but…I don't know," he shakes his hand, his thought trailing into nothing. "I think it's over for me, so it doesn't really matter."

Your heart pounds in your chest at his words, feeling like it might burst out of your chest at any moment. He's…helped friends? With their own children? You can't recall any of his current ones that have any, except for maybe Dana.

Though, you think maybe you'd call their connection a trauma bond before a friendship. The thought of him, rocking a baby in his big arms makes your heart swell. It's a bird, fluttering against the cage of your chest and desperate to break free.

Then, his last words fully process. I think it's over for me. Confusion and hurt barrel through you, knocking the wind out of you.

Though you'd never discussed it specifically, things are going really well with Robby. It's low key, due to the nature of your positions, but it's definitely more than just sex. You've always wanted kids, and you feel foolish for automatically assuming Robby felt the same.

"Well, Charlie Chaplin had kids in his 70s. You're fine," Dana remarks, and you have to bite back a laugh at Robby's horrified expression.

"I'm not as old as Charlie Chaplin!" He exclaims, eyes wide.

This earns a laugh from the table, Trinity clapping her hands in glee. Your world is tilted on its axis, and smile is small, meek in the delight of the rest of the table. Trinity wraps a hand around your wrist, squeezing gently.

"Exactly!" She says. "You got plenty of time, what, like, 5 years?"

His eyes narrow into slits, and he points at her with his beer.

"You," he starts, "better watch it."

She shrugs, eyeing the picked over label on his bottle.

"That looks good," she nods towards the glass. "I'm gonna go get one of my own."

You slurp down the rest of your fruity drink, your head starting to spin with alcohol and heartache- the perfect combo. You wiggle your way out of the booth, following Dana towards the bar.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go get another one, too," you mutter, standing up and smoothing out your shorts.

You turn around, asking the table if anyone needs anything. You're answered by the shaking of heads, passive 'nos' leaving the lips of your colleagues.

Before you walk away, your eyes find Robby, though his are focused on your ass. A boost of confidence blooms deep in your stomach, the tiny garment stretched delicately over your backside. They're your special pair, working on every man you've ever dated.

Robby is no different.

His eyes scan back up your frame, meeting yours with a smirk. It's explosive, your heart pounding in your chest, though your stomach is churning. You can't resist his wide, brown eyes, the way they twinkle in the flashing lights burning your cheeks.

Trinity clears her throat, making her own way out of the booth now as she sidles up behind you, covering the most vulnerable parts of you.

"Let's go get that drink, huh, babes?" She asks, and you catch her glare at Robby in your peripheral.

Your cheeks are positively on fire as she scurries you toward the bar, putting in two orders of the same drinks you just finished.

You let your head flop down on the bar, buried in your forearms and let out a long groan.

"Trin!!" You whine, and she rubs a soothing circle on your back.

"Babe, what was up with that?" She asks, gently. "Was it the kids thing? It's okay if you don't want them, I'm sure he wouldn't mind, I mean, he even said-"

"No," you croak, your eyes burning with unshed tears as you lift your head up. "It's not that I don't want them. Quite the opposite, actually."

"Okay…" Trinity trails off, brows furrowed. "So…what's the problem? Was he not just subtly bragging about how good of a father he'd be?"

Your stomach blooms at the thought of that first little piece, when he'd shared such a vulnerable tip to help McKay. You envy Trinity's naivete, you really do.

"Because," you start, "he punctuated that sentence with 'I think it's over for me'," the tears finally spill past your lash line, mascara streaking down your cheek.

"Yeah, I did hear that," Trinity mumbles, "I was just hoping I'd heard it wrong."

"Am I just..not an option? I mean, has this really been just sex this whole time?" You press your fingertips into your temples, massaging gently,

"Babe, I think the only person that can answer that question is him," she looks back at the table, and you can't resist looking too.

He's already looking at you when you look over, and his brows furrow in confusion at your tears. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, reverberating through your ears at the concern lacing his gaze.

He gives you a thumbs up, mouthing you ok? Your heart aches, and you're unable to stop the tears from spilling. You swipe a finger underneath each eye, a band aid in a broken dam, and turn away from him.

"Ugh!" You groan, tilting your head back to stop the onslaught of tears. "I think I'm just gonna go home, Trin. I can talk to him in the morning."

"That's okay," she mutters, and you're thankful for her understanding.

She leads you back to the table, where you grab your bag and lip gloss.

"You're leaving?" Robby's gruff voice asks, and you duck your burning face, nodding your head in response.

"How are you gettin' home?" He asks, tone a bit more strict now.

"I'm going to Uber," you nearly whisper, and it's met with an uproar from the table.

"Sweetheart," Dana pipes up. "That's not safe, you sure there's not anyone else who can take you home?"

Your eyes flicker down to the floor again, desperate to avoid the gaze of the man who's only nursed his beer tonight, drinking lots of water in between.

"I'll take ya," Robby says, scooting out of the booth himself.

He leaves a $100 bill on the table, 'for both of our drinks', he murmurs in your ear as he guides you toward the door.

"You didn't have to do that," you turn your head and mumble into his chest, and you can feel it shake in laughter behind you.

"Course I did," he responds, reaching over your head to open the door.

The car ride home is quiet, sobering. Robby offers you his water bottle resting in the cup holder, and you graciously accept, nearly downing it on the 20 minute ride home.

The silence is palpable, nearly tangible as you stare straight ahead. His headlights illuminate a suburban road, lit up by streetlights and bright neon 'CLOSED' signs hanging from local shops.

Just before his street, you pass a park. It's never struck you as important, until tonight. You stare at the small swings and twisty slide, and the hurt from earlier starts to creep back in, a demon unwelcome in your paralysis.

When he turns down his street, he reaches over the center console to take your hand. You let him, forehead pressed against the window.

"You okay, sweet love?" He asks, and you just nod.

He leaves it until he turns into the driveway, putting his truck in park and running to your side. He opens your door, a bright smile on his face, despite the sad pout on yours.

He helps you out of the tall vehicle, and you can't help but let yourself be maneuvered by him, waltzing up to his back door completely physically attached.

You burst through the front door together, and you can't help the giggles that spill out of your mouth as Robby trips over the door mat.

"Michael!" You squeal, pressing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself.

"Sorry, sweet love," he mumbles, steadying his gait and resting his hands on your waist.

A familiar heat settles in your stomach, now that you're alone with him. His effect on you is unmistakable, one look from his big brown eyes and your knees turn to soup.

He leans in, brushing his lips over yours as if to confirm you're okay, and you give him a light nod in encouragement. He kisses you, slow and sweet and deep. You sigh, melting into it, into him.

His large hand splays over the small of your back, holding you close to him as you press your chest into his. He groans against you, always in love with the way your curves squeeze into him, or so he says.

Your hands find his stubbly jaw, fondling the rigid bone there as he continues to work your mouth open, dipping his tongue in ever so slightly.

You grant him access, opening your mouth for him to take full advantage of. He massages his tongue over yours, the taste of him settling low into your belly, flowing through your veins.

He scoops two strong arms under you and lifts, carrying you to his fluffy couch. He his down, your legs still wrapped around him, and pulls you close.

His hands are grabbing at your ass, rocking yourself over his hips in a deliciously tantalizing way. Your breath speeds up as you slightly pull back, panting against his mouth.

"Michael," you whine, and the reality of what you're doing hits you like a train.

You freeze in his arms, blood running cold at the earlier memories of the night.

I think it's over for me.

He looks up at you with concern, skilled hands maneuvering your face, neck, and body to look for any signs of damage.

"What is it?" He asks frantically. "Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. He tries to catch them with his thumb, but it's futile. He frowns, eyes softening at your helpless state.

"Not-not physically," you answer his question meekly, and he cocks his head to the side like a dog.

"What is it, sweet love?" He caresses your neck, cradling your jaw so you can't look away.

"I think it's over for me?" You repeat shakily, and his eyes shift. They flit around the room as he tries to recall the words, the context.

You watch it dawn on him, illuminating his sad face, lips rounding in a small 'o'.

"That's what's got you so upset, sweet love?" He asks, and you nod sheepishly.

"You wouldn't want to have kids with me?" You croak, and he brings your forehead to his.

"Hey…" he starts, and you can't stop the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I know this is totally unfair. I completely assumed that'd be something you'd want, we haven't discussed it, hell, we haven't even been official for very long, I just- you said that, and it just made me realize that maybe we want different things, and-"

He kisses you, blessedly stopping your ranting. You let yourself melt into it, going limp in his arms, sinking into his lap. You feel his cock twitch beneath you, growing hard under your weight.

"Baby," he grumbles against your lips, gripping your jaw and pulling you away from him.

You whine at the separation, eyes nearly crossed as they train on the string of spit connecting your mouths. His cock grows even firmer below you, and you shift your hips on him just slightly.

"It's not that I wouldn't want that, of course I do," he rubs the pointy tip of his nose against yours.

You perk up in his arms, and he presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

"You do?" You ask, emotion flipping like a pancake in your stomach.

"Of course," he repeats. "How could I not? You're beautiful…" he trails off, placing a kiss to your lips, "kind…" a kiss to your cheek, "smart…" a sloppy string of kisses down your neck, "absolutely incredible," he murmurs against your neck. "Who wouldn't want you?"

"You'd be surprised," you mention, and he shakes his head against your skin.

"They're idiots," he kisses your neck again. "I am too, but I'm just an idiot for you."

"Ewww! That's cheesy," you push his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your torso to his chest.

"You love it," he murmurs against your lips.

"I love you," you respond, and he pauses.

You don't freak, though, you don't panic. You just wait.

"I love you, too. I honestly just can't believe you'd choose me. That you'd want kids with me, that's why I said that," he tells you, and your heart clutches.

"What?" You ask, brows furrowing in concern. "How could you say that?"

He shrugs, averting his gaze and shaking his head.

"Like I just said, sweet love," he starts, stroking a hand up and down your back. "You're so beautiful and sweet, wouldn't wanna spoil your lineage with me."

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you rest your hands on his broad shoulders.

"Michael, I don't want you to think that for another second," you say, planting a sweet kiss on his lips. "I love you. I'd be honored to carry your child," you ghost your lips over his, and he shudders.

"JesusfuckingChrist" He breathes, a pathetic chuckle escaping his lips. "You can't say that to me, honey."

"Aw," you whine, your nails scraping the nape of his neck, his sweet spot. "But I want you to get me pregnant so bad. You don't?" You challenge, and you know he'll take the bait.

He wastes no time, lifting you off the couch, your legs still wrapped around his waist as he carries you to his room. You pepper kisses down his neck as he maneuvers you two through his house.

He kicks the door open, plopping you on his bed before taking off his shirt. You prop yourself up on your forearms, taking in the sight before you. The curve of his tummy, his tattoos stretching over his biceps.

"You want my baby?" He asks, undoing his belt as slow as can be. "You wanna get rid of your birth control so I can properly knock you up?"

You nod, at a complete loss for words.

"Me too, honey, I'll set that up for you, I'll give you one, how's that sound?" He asks, settling between your legs in nothing but his boxers.

You whine, closing your legs around him in response. He chuckles, holding your legs up with his strong hands.

"I asked you a question, sweet love," he swats your inner thigh, and you moan. "How does that sound?" He repeats, slowly.

"It sounds so good, Michael," you wail, "please, put a baby in me."

This does it for him, and he collapses onto you. He slots his lips over yours, hand creeping under the fabric of your shirt, stroking the soft skin of your stomach.

He makes a strangled noise as he creeps his hand all the way up, cupping your tits over your bra.

"Fuuuck," he drags out, jiggling them in his hands.

You whine at his actions, your skin prickling at his touch. He reaches around and frees them, his mouth immediately attaching to your nipples.

"Do you fucking know," he starts, lips sucking and tongue swirling, "how gorgeous you're going to look when these are fucking big and swollen and leaky?" He massages your skin, and you arch into his touch.

"Michael!" You gasp at the vileness of his words. He chuckles against you, and your breath hitches.

He kisses his way down your stomach, running his tongue over the waistband of your skirt.

"You know how much I fucking love this skirt, too," he mumbles against your skin, sliding the fabric down. "Fucking tease."

"I love you, Michael," you whine, and he looks up at you from in between your legs.

"I love you too, baby," he responds, throwing your legs over his shoulders. "'m gonna make you feel really good, don't worry."

He attaches his lips to your clothed cunt, tongue darting out to collect the wetness pooling the fabric.

Your brain short circuits, eyes squeezing shut and head falling back as he makes out with your panties. You grind your hips into his face, and he coos.

"You poor thing, let me take these off, hm?" He asks, sliding your panties down your legs, flinging them off your ankles.

He licks his lips as he rakes his nails up and down your legs, kisses his way up your thighs. Your stomach burns in pleasure, your center pulsing around nothing.

"Please, Michael," you sob.

Thankfully, he relents, pressing a sweet kiss to your clit. You jump, a sweet yelp escaping your lips. His lips wrap around your button, sucking hard.

You smack a hand down on the mattress, a whine strangling from your throat.

"Michael!" You moan, and he tuts.

"I know, honey, gotta be patient if you want me to fuck you," he murmurs, and you whine.

He laps at your center, circling his tongue around your hole and bringing the wetness up to your clit, rubbing the tip of his tongue back and forth. Pleasure roars a fire in your tummy, only burning brighter when he slips a finger in.

"That's it, pretty girl," he mumbles against your clit, the vibrations making you preen. "Gotta stretch you out before you can take me, hm?"

He adds another finger when you nod, mewls spilling from your lips. The coil in your belly winds tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

"Michael, it feels so good," you writhe under his touch, and he rests a firm hand on your hip bone to calm your movements.

"I know, sweet love, y'getting close?" He asks against your clit, sucking and kissing and licking.

"Mmhm!" You whine, burying your fingers in his hair and tugging.

He grunts against you, and you feel the bed shift with his own thrusts against the mattress. This only spurs your oncoming orgasm, heat burning white hot in your belly.

"You got it," he encourages, picking up the speed of his fingers. "Come and then I'm gonna fuck you, put a baby in you."

This unravels you, the spring bursting within your stomach. Warmth blooms in your stomach as you rock your hips against his face, riding out your high. Your orgasm trembles through you, rocking through you like a tsunami.

He shushes you against your pussy, pressing sweet kisses to your clit as you settle, pulling his fingers out slowly.

You whine at the loss of contact, and he tuts condescendingly.

"Don't worry, sweet love," he coos, bringing his wet fingers to your lips. "Open," he instructs, and your lips wrap around his digits.

Your salty taste coats your tongue, which swirls around his fingers, cleaning him off completely.

"Fuuuuck," he groans under his breath, removing his hand so he can take his own boxers off.

His large cock springs free, as intimidating as ever, no matter how many times you've taken him. He chuckles, lining himself up with your entrance. He runs the head along your slit, gathering your wetness at your clit, tapping a few times.

You whine at the splashing sounds it emanates, heat creeping up your cheeks. There's not a lot of time to feel embarrassed, though, as he quickly runs himself back to your entrance.

"You ready?" He asks, and you nod.

"'m ready," you tell him, knowing the nod wouldn't be enough.

"Good girl," he groans, sliding his head into you. Your breath catches in your throat, a gasp escaping your lips at the intrusion. "Such a good fucking girl, gonna get my fucking babies."

He continues to slide in until his hips are flush with your ass. A long, pitchy whine spills from your lips, your hands grabbing frantically for any piece of him you can find.

He lurches at the contact, and you know he's still not entirely used to the closeness you crave. It freaked him out, when you first started dating, how just holding him could recharge you after a long day.

After some time, though, he's grown semi-used to it, still not quite used to the worship you afford his body. His bashfulness makes your heart warm every time, even when he's balls deep inside of you.

"Can't wait to have your baby, Michael," you murmur, your eyes gleaming as he starts to move.

You gasp as he pulls out, so far that just the tip lingers inside you. His brow furrows, head falling back as he groans.

He pushes all the way back in one go, punching a scream out of your chest.

"God, you're perfect," he purrs, teeth digging into your ear lobe. "Gonna be such a pretty mama, aren't you? All round and swollen with my baby."

You cry out at his words, wiggling your hips to get as much of him as you can.

"Hey, hey," he coos, pressing his hands down on your hips. "You have all of me, you do, just be patient."

You keen at his words, surrendering yourself to the pleasure he's engulfing you in.

"I love you," you cry, and his face softens.

"I love you too, angel," he replies, moving his hips faster.

"Gonna give you all of me in a minute, hm? How's that sound? You want my cum?" He asks, and you nod frantically.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he husks. "I'm gonna love you a bit more, treat you really good, then, one day, we're gonna get rid of that IUD, baby. I'm gonna get you so fucking pregnant, fuck!" He groans, thrusts growing sloppy as his balls slap against your ass.

Your body feels like it's on fire, legs shaking at the stimulation.

"Michael! Please come in me, please," you beg, thrashing against the mattress.

"I'm gonna, baby, it's okay, gonna give you my babies, don't even worry about it," he comforts you, and you dig your nails into his arms.

You dissolve into pleasure for a second time, waves of fire rippling through you. You throw your head back on the pillow, and he attaches his mouth to your neck as his own release falls upon him.

You feel him twitch inside you, his thrusts slowing down the more you milk him.

"Fuck! Fuck, so fucking good sweet love," he grunts against you.

You wiggle your hips against his, the smallest friction on your clit enough to overstimulate. You shiver, and he grips your arms, pulling you close to him.

He pants, heavy breaths exhaling against your neck. Your chest heaves, and he moves with your breathing.

A soothing comfort dawns on the two of you, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. He buries his face in your neck, pressing light kisses to the soft skin.

Your fingers come up to the back of his head, playing with the dark hair there.

"So good, Michael, make me feel so good," you whisper, and he shudders against you.

"I love you," he murmurs, and you kiss his head, saying it back.

"Give me a second," he husks against you. "I'm gonna clean you up, just gotta remember how to walk again."

You both laugh at this, and you've never felt more confident in any of your relationships. This is new, it's uncertain, but there's a finality to it, a certainty that settles deep within you, blooming like a fresh spring flower.