#hulkx reader

Nat pets the small swell of your stomach gently and carefully kisses your head to avoid the tender spot, “I’d feel better if you’d at least lay down,” she coaxes. They’d not told Bruce yet. They were waiting until the mission was over. And all your test results came back fine so they’d have something concrete to give him. A quinjet and the Hulk didn’t tend to mix well, and where both Bruce and Hulk were concerned. Well. If anything could make Bruce of all people lose his head completely, it was something happening to you. Or the baby.  

You let her settle you on the couch and drink the sprite she handed you, hoping to help quell the anxiety. “It’s okay, Tasha,” you soothe, “It’s not that uncommon. Especially not when I’m working, remember? My sugar drops like that from time to time. Spell work takes energy... and so does growing a whole human. Except this little human will just barely let me eat anything before the afternoon.” She nods and puts your feet in her lap so she can sit next to you, “I thought that was better,” she says frowning. “Slowly better,” you say nodding and sigh. She tuts and smacks the bottoms of your feet gently, “You should be keeping an eye on that,” she lectures. “If Bruce sees you do that he’ll have a heart attack. Or tear the building apart. Possibly both.” You wince, “Needles, Tasha.” you say softly.

It makes you anxious just thinking about it and you have to set down the cup you’re holding. It’s glass and you’re holding it too tight. The last thing you need is for Bruce to come home to you getting stitches too. Tasha rubs your calf gently, “Shhh,” she says, “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I forgot.” You know it’s stupid and you can’t make the panic stop because now you can’t stop thinking about it. When the tears start flowing you can’t stop that either. Natasha scoops you up carefully and holds you to her tightly, rocking you gently. You curse hormones, witchfinders, and orange juice as you try to get a grip on her shoulder and the spy curses herself. You had one fear. 

It wasn’t death, snakes, heights, or taxes. It was needles. Pure and simple. It didn’t matter what for. But needles anywhere near your skin caused a wave of panic that nothing could quell. Even after years of therapy. Even if you knew you needed to do it. You couldn’t. They needed to knock you out just to put three stitches in your finger once. She doesn’t try to make it stop. She just lets you cry it out. Once you can calm down, she brings you a cool cloth and presses the cup back into your hands, “Take a drink,” she soothes, “Then we’ll order some food... Think the little one inherited your love of orange chicken?”

You chuckle and wipe your face, “One way to find out... we know they like eggrolls.” Nat smiled and touched your belly affectionately, “Definitely likes those... 6 of them later and you probably could have eaten a couple more.” You sigh and start to get up, “First things first. I need jammies. I’ve had enough of real pants.” The spy watched you go, watching your gait and making sure you were steady on your feet, “Ooo,” she says, “Good plan. I’ll go get mine too.”

______

“And none of you fucking told me?” Bruce yelled. Clint held up his hands and handed him a stack of blood work results, “Nat’s been with her. All day. It really is just blood sugar dropping. Just like before.”

Bruce was getting a little green around the irises and Tony tensed, “Nat had them run all the tests,” he said, “She’s fine, just tired. It’s been a long day. You know how she is about needles... she straight up begged them to just let her cut her hand open and do it that way.” The brought Bruce up short, “How did they get the blood test done?” he asked. Clint smiled a little, “Nat had her magic herself under for a little bit. Otherwise one of those techs was gonna wind up with a broken nose.” Bruce took a deep breath, “Where is she now?” he asked slowly. “Upstairs with Nat in your rooms,” Clint said quickly, “Pepper’s there too... Girl’s night, ya, know? They have dinner and they’ve been watching some baking show or something.” Tony glanced at him, “How do you know all that?” he asked, “All Pepper told me is that she’s not at the office.” Clint snorted, “Snapchat, duh.”

Bruce didn’t stick around after that. He hit the elevator, taking a minute to breathe. He wasn’t mad at you, not really. You hadn’t done it on purpose, kept that from him. Or if you had, it had been to protect him. He knew it. But he was still furious that he hadn’t been able to take care of you. 

He stops at the door, listening. You sound okay. Laughing, protesting eating anymore. “Pepper,” you protest, “Eating for two is a little bit of an exaggeration... If I eat anything more I might literally explode.” He can’t hear Pepper’s response exactly but he smiles a little. It’s something of a comfort that you haven’t just been alone and he makes a mental note to thank them both. It sounds like they’re letting you go to bed. Or at least that someone alerted them Bruce was on his way up. So he backs up to let them come through. Pepper pats his hand and Natasha pulls him aside, pressing a finger to her lips and walking him down the hall.

“Bruce,” she says quietly, “You have to make her test her sugar... Medical needs a baseline. They’ve been after her for one for years because of the way it drops.” He frowns, “What am I supposed to do? Hold her down and do it?” Nat sighs, “I don’t know... I tried to talk to her about it today and she had a whole meltdown.” Bruce rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m not pressing the issue tonight,” he said. He felt too old for this. “The stress isn’t good for her either.” The spy gave him a sympathetic look and smiled a little, “The good news is, she doesn’t have a concussion from smacking her head on the way down... It sounded worse than it was.” Bruce sighed, “Did she eat enough?” Nat grinned, “The baby likes orange chicken... and eggrolls. She ate.” That makes him smile a little, “Right so. Heartburn later.” She snorts, “Yeah. Lots of that.” Nat stands on her toes and kisses his cheek, “Go take care of her,” she said gently, “she’s missed you.” He doesn’t need telling twice.

“Baby?” he said softly, dropping his bag and crossing the floor to kneel next to the sofa, “How are you feeling? Are you okay? How’s your head?” You smile and pull him down to kiss him softly, “We’re fine,” you soothe, “Everything is fine. It’s just a few scary seconds and a knock on the head.”

Bruce looks over your scalp and kisses the bump carefully before kissing your lips and laying a hand on your stomach, rubbing gently. “Why didn’t you call me?” he asks. “Bruce,” you say, swallowing hard, “It’s bad enough when you’re away... I didn’t want you hurt because you were distracted. I told Nat not to say anything because I wanted to make sure you came home.” Tears start falling and he hugs you tightly, “The big guy wouldn’t have let anything keep us from you,” he said, “He’s really excited to meet the baby. And he loves you. Probably as much as I do... Trust me. No force in the universe could keep him from being here.” You nuzzle into his neck and breath him in. The smell of his aftershave and something else that was indefinably him. “Let’s get you tucked in, hmm?” he coaxes, “We both had a long day and you need rest... We just got you functioning without coffee. I’d hate to have to go back to leaving my mugs outside.” He relaxes a little when you snort and presses on, “It was nice. Those little afternoon naps though,” he teases. Your cheeks color and he grins, “Sometimes you still talk in your sleep, you know that?” When you blush harder he kisses your nose, “C ‘ mon, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed,” he coaxes again, standing slowly and holding out his hands. You go willingly and he finds the hem of your tank top, easing it out of the way slowly and sliding it over your head, “Bruce!” you protest, and he stops, “Please?” he asked softly, “I missed you.” He touches your belly, tracing his fingers over the swell tenderly. You were bigger than you’d been when he left, he could swear to it. And he just wanted to feel you. All your warm silky skin and nothing in the way.

He wanted to admire his handiwork.

He feathers soft kisses down your neck and you moan softly. When you say his name again it’s a different tone and he smiles a little. Your hands are on his shirt, unbuttoning buttons as he’s stripping you of your pajama bottoms. “Good girl,” he praises, tucking you into the bed. He finishes undressing himself and pins you to the mattress gently, “What do you need, baby?” he asks seriously, “How can I help?” When you look up at him, all wide eyed and innocent still, just like the first time, his heart stutters and he kisses your nose.

 “Make the monsters go away,” you tell him softly.

And Bruce doesn’t need telling twice. He doesn’t need an explanation. He grounds you in your now as gently as he can. Reminding you that you are safe, and you are loved the best way he’s ever learned how. Anything he can do to keep the nightmares away.

“What about your mom? How powerful was she?” Jane had asked. Bruce felt a reflexive tension in his shoulders when the words came out and your hands stilled. “Powerful enough to be worth burning,” you answered flatly. In that moment Jane seemed to realize she’d crossed a line somewhere and glanced at Bruce. “Witches, honest to god witches,” he explained, “Don’t think of their abilities that way... It’s not how powerful one is. It’s what they do with the powers they have. It’s the people who hunt and kill them. They target anyone they think they can take.” Bruce pointed Jane out of the shop and pulled you into a hug, kissing you gently, “You okay?” he asked, “I’m sorry. I forgot how... enthusiastic she can be.” You nod and snuggle into his chest for a second. Savoring the feeling. Bruce had a project which meant you were about to become a lab widow for a little while. Not that you were worried about him working with Jane. He adores you, especially if that morning’s lovemaking was any indication. 

Six months after the walk through the woods when you’d told him you were ready to start trying and he was still devoted to the idea. And had been disappointed every month when you started to get cramps and then the inevitable blood and discomfort. You hated seeing him disappointed. It made it worse that he felt like he couldn’t tell you about how disappointed he was, but you knew. “I’m okay, Bruce,” you murmur, “It’s just. Irritating.” Bruce smiles a little and kisses you softly, “How are you feeling?” he murmured. You sigh, “Tired,” you answer, “Very tired.” He nods.

Tired could mean a lot of things and not necessarily what he wanted it to mean. “Take a short day?” he suggested, “Get some rest.” You shake your head, “I’ve got too much to do. I’ll be okay.” Bruce sighed, “Sweetheart,” he protested, “You’re going to get sick if you don’t get rest. A tired witch is not a healthy witch.” You smile a little, “I’ll be okay. Even if I take a short day I don’t really wanna spend it alone. You’ll be in the lab and my usual crew is on a mission so...” Bruce frowned but kissed you, “I’ll see you for lunch?” You nod and snuggle him for an extra second, just wanting one more second of feeling okay. It’s not your favorite time of year and there’s a lot of general malaise right now. It helps being held for a while but, Jane is waiting and Bruce has shit to do so you shoo him out of the shop with a smile. He’s excited as he walks with Jane. Thrilled to be sinking into a new project. You watch him go, already knowing that he’s going to miss lunch. 

Bruce in the lab all day, does miss lunch. But more importantly, he misses the chaos of your Dad bursting into the tower yelling and acting like an ass. He misses the fall out of that. He hears about it, of course, from Darcy Lewis who burst into the lab breathless and chattering. Hours after the fact of course, AFTER she heard the gossip. Not knowing who you actually are. It made Bruce stop and try to call you, only for it to go directly to voicemail. He glanced at the clock and sighed. It was 11:30. Of course you were asleep. You had the same sleep schedule as a chicken. If it was dark you were asleep. He not so subtly threw both women out of the lab, anxious to go upstairs. Anxious to check on you.

He let himself into the room, both pleased and sad that you were already asleep. He tucked the blanket around you tenderly and went to go and shower quickly. He’d just been in the lab but, it made him feel better. Less tense. Usually. Today, no dice. It had been a long day and the deadline for the project had moved 3 different times. Personally, Bruce just wanted it to get done. He loved projects and designing new things. Learning new things. But he wasn’t a fan of the long hours away from you. He missed you. He was you through the glass on the shower door and his heart warmed a little as you stepped into the water with him. He smiled and wrapped his arms around you carefully, “Hey, pretty girl,” he said, “You okay?”  You nod and kiss his shoulder, “I’m okay. Just a bad dream.” You card your fingers through his hair and pick up his shampoo, starting to wash his hair. Bruce had already done that but, he wasn’t going to stop you. It always felt so good when you took care of him. Everything you did felt better. He relaxed into the touch and smiled, “That’s the best,” he sighed. You kiss his jaw and lean his head back gently, carefully rinsing out all the soap. Bruce basks in the attention and he kneads into your ass and hips with his fingers. He loves the feel of your skin, warm and wet under his hands. You blush a little and kiss his neck, “You’re so handsome,” you tell him. His hair done, you apply yourself to the rest of him, fussing and scrubbing his skin gently. Bruce blushed. He always blushed when you called him handsome. He knew it was inevitable that you were going to fuss until you were satisfied that he was taken care of. That included all the things he was insecure about.

Changing into the Hulk and Back had left him with stretchmarks and his metabolism being trashed left him with some extra weight that he just couldn’t seem to drop. Not a lot of weight. But compared to a team of superheroes that are ripped at hell, he sometimes felt a little... inadequate. But, right now. In this moment, he felt good. You kissed and nuzzled tenderly. It was amazing, the feel of your lips on his skin. It was like a drug. His only addiction. He felt his prick twitch and he groaned, “Baby,” he murmured, “Let me take care of you?” 

“But I’m not done with you,” you protest, kneeling in front of him. Bruce feels his breath hitch. Once, you’d told him that you were good with your tongue. That you’d learned to compensate for your intimacy issues. Bruce had been hesitant to allow you to do this for him. Especially not before he’d be allowed to take care of you. But now, it made him dizzy. You hadn’t been lying. As you licked up the underside of his prick, he felt like his knees were going to buckle. He wasn’t sure what exactly you were doing with your tongue. What witchcraft you were doing. All he knew was that it didn’t take long for him to feel like he was going to burst. He helped you to your feet and kissed you softly. “Turn around, baby?” he coaxes. You nod and let him position you, facing the wall, legs apart, so he could find his release. He sank into you with a groan as he laced his fingers through your where your hand rested against the wall. He thrust into you steadily and slid his fingers against your clit slowly. He’s not going to feel right, having your mouth on him without having you come for him. He wants you to come with him. “Come for me,” he murmurs, “Let me hear you?” He intensifies his efforts and you gasp softly, “Bruce,” you pant, “Fuck.”

“That’s it, beautiful,” he says, “We’re gonna fuck a baby into you.” You squeeze the hand that’s holding yours moan softly, “You want that, don’t you?” he said, voice a warm rumble in your ear. “Yes,” you answer, breathlessly. “Good girl,” he praises, edging you closer to orgasm. “Don’t stop,” you tell him, “Please.” He groans, “Not gonna stop baby,” he says, “Not til you come for me. Not til I put a baby in you.” When you cry out wordlessly, coming apart on his cock, Bruce lets go and lets himself spill inside you. He wraps his arm around your waist and rests his forehead on your shoulder panting as he clutches you to him. “I love you,” he murmurs, “So much.” You smile and bask in the feeling of him. You love this. He holds on to you like his favorite teddy bear and gets so lovey. He’s still inside you, going soft as he murmurs endearments against your skin. You like that too. When he gets a little bossy, more assertive. Under normal circumstances, he’s so soft. Non-confrontational. Easy going. But making love made him bossy. Especially now that he realized you liked it when he got assertive. It made you feel weak at the knees. Your belly got warm and you couldn’t tell him no. Not Bruce. Not with his big doe eyes and messy curls. His gentle hands and deep voice. If he told you to do something, you were going to. And he knew it. When you turned off the water as he slid out of you slowly, he reached for a towel to wrap you in. “Ladies first,” he said wrapping you up and kissing your head before wrapping a towel around his waist. Once he had you dry and tucked back into bed, he turned his attention to himself. 

He felt better and he hoped that meant you did too. Having now met Deckard Blanche on one occasion when he came to New York before, he could understand how you might have gotten upset. Deckard was... Abrasive to say the least. Self-centered and arrogant but, there were moments when he was charming. When he was flirting with the waitress and winding her deftly around his fingers. Bruce could see how a 16-year-old Lenora would have fallen for it. And he was thankful you’d devoted yourself to your studies to avoid men like that. He laid next to you and pulled you close, “So, what did Deckard want?” he asked as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"Money. Money and some rare spell components... probably for something less than aboveboard.” Bruce chuckled, “Did you give him any of it?” he asked. “Fuck no,” you say, “He’s a grown-ass adult wizard.” Bruce cuddled you and kissed your head. He knew you’d been hurt and angry when he showed up. You had a complicated relationship with Deckard, at best. He hadn’t raised you. He hadn’t even known that your mom was dead for a year. He’d been distant. Always distant. Bruce wasn’t even entirely sure Deckard knew how old you were. Bruce was also reasonably certain you weren’t going to want him around any children you did have and he was fine with that. He really didn’t like Deckard. 

As he held you, soothing you back into sleep, he felt himself getting tired. He didn’t know what spell you had cast on him or how you knew how exactly what he needed, but you did. Before, when he’d been alone, he’d still be working. But now, your soft body in his arms and your breath against his neck, he was ready to sleep. To know that you were safe and with him. He felt like an asshole, first missing lunch and then leaving you to deal with Deckard alone. But, it was nice having you in his arms and that’s what he focused on as he drifted off. The future he wanted to have with you at the center of it.

Weeks pass. The project turns into a mission and Bruce is called away. You miss him. The steady comfort of his presence. Your best friend. It makes you sad, but you know he’ll be home as soon as he can. 

In the interim, you spend a lot of time with Natasha. And Clint. You like all the Avengers but Clint and Natasha are different. You knew them first. You know them best. And sitting in your suit with them watching Netflix feels normal. It’s comfortable. Aside from feeling nauseous at the smell of Clint’s stupid cheesy popcorn. The three of you fall asleep in a comfortable pile. Natasha has her head on your stomach and Clint has his head on Tasha’s thigh, hugging her legs like a body pillow. It’s comforting being near people. Having them there. And you suspect that they noticed you hadn’t been sleeping well. You’re grateful.

The next day in the training room, Natasha watches you carefully. You look pale and you’ve been looking a little dizzy. About the time Sam walks by with some grape flavored nonsense and you gag, she quirks an eyebrow, “First cheesy popcorn and now grape?” she tuts, “Y/N you’re falling apart on me.” She throws an arm over your shoulder and walks you out of the training room. There are people listening now and she knows this is probably a private matter. “Tasha, I’m fine,” you protest. She smiles a little, “I know that. What I want to know is how long.” You cock your head, “How long what?” 

She gives you a look, warning you not to play dumb, “How long have you and Bruce been trying to get pregnant?” she asked. She knows you. If she’s not straightforward you’ll wiggle out of answering. As a rule you don’t lie, but you will avoid. You blush and smile a little, “Since December,” you murmur. “And you kept it from me this long?” she pouted. You blush a little harder and she hugs you, “I’m sorry,” you murmur, “We just. We decided it was better if we kept it a secret.” She nods and kisses your forehead, “How long have you been nauseous?” she asked, a little worried. You shake your head, “Not long. It’s really only been rough the last two days.” Natasha frowns and watches you swallow hard, “You need to go to medical,” she said, “If you are pregnant, you need to know. Now. We can’t send you into something that could be dangerous.” You nod, “Come with me?” you ask softly, “Please?” The Spy can’t tell you no.

For all her aloofness with strangers, she can’t not be soft with you. You were like the little sister she never had. She remembered her early days at SHIELD. How alone she felt. Until Clint dug you up out of somewhere. Fresh out of training with chipped black nail polish and a big friendly smile. She hadn’t wanted to be your friend but... You hadn’t given her much choice. “C’ mon,” she coaxes, “It won’t take long. And if we go now, we can probably keep it a secret. At least until you can tell him.” You let her take your hand and walk with you there. 

You aren’t sure if you’re nauseous because you’re nervous or if it’s whatever it was before as you sit on the table. But you can’t watch them do the blood test. You just hate needles. Natasha doesn’t let go of your other hand. Not the entire time. You were quiet. Anxious and scared. If you weren’t pregnant you’d be disappointed. If you were... what if you weren’t ready? What if Bruce changed his mind? Everything sounded like it was coming from underwater. The only thing you understood was that it was happening. 

You were, in fact, pregnant. 

Natasha took over then, dealing around your shock and arranging your first appointments while you cried and dealt with the shock. There were tears. A lot of tears. And you desperately wanted to talk to Bruce. You didn’t know if you could actually keep it a secret. Not for much longer. Mostly because now that the shock was wearing off, you were excited. In the hall as you and Natasha stood hugging and crying, neither of you realized Steve was standing not far away. He was trying not to listen but, it didn’t take much to put pieces together. 

He blushed and cleared his throat, “Ladies,” he said, “Tony, Bruce, and Sam should be back this evening. We just got word.” You wipe tears away on your sleeve and nod, trying to pull yourself together, “Thanks, Steve,” you say nodding, “Gives me time to make a nice dinner.” Steve clears his throat, “Everything okay?” he asked. “Fine,” you say, “Just fine.” Natasha smiles and grabs your hand, “What’s for dinner?” she asked, steering you to the kitchen to get you out of Steve’s line of sight. “Fried Chicken?” you guess, “Potatoes, gravy, and peas?” Natasha smiled, “If you can stand frying the chicken.” She pokes your belly gently and kisses your head. 

You do manage to make dinner with the help of Natasha and Clint. Clint has to fry the Chicken but your apple pies turn out beautifully. 

When Bruce walks in and you fling yourself into his arms, your legs around his waist, you start crying again. He hugs you close and kisses you, setting you on the counter to wipe your tears away carefully, “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, “What happened?” You shake your head smiling, kissing him again, “I’m just so happy you’re home. I missed you.”

All through dinner, his hand isn’t far from yours. He eats and fusses over you, a little concerned. You don’t cry. Not just because you miss him. 

It’s not until he has you alone. Until you’re sitting on the edge of the bed in a t-shirt and panties, waiting for him to come to bed, that he notices anything amiss. But, it’s a little hard to miss a prettily wrapped gift on his side of the bed. “What’s this?” he asked, picking it up and kissing you. “Open it and see,” you tease, practically vibrating with excitement. Bruce chuckles and unties the ribbon, carefully taking the top off the box. It takes a moment. Inside the box there’s a tiny pair of black converse baby shoes.

Bruce stills. His heart swelling in his chest. “Sweetheart,” he said, “are you? Are we?” He can feel tears welling up and you nod, wiping away new tears of your own. He laughs and tackles you on the bed gently, lavishing kisses and caresses on your body, stopping to nuzzle your lower belly, “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured. You card your fingers through his hair and he smiles, “You need sleep,” he fussed, “And vitamins... Have you been to the doctor?” Now that he’s thinking about it, he’s fussing. You tut softly, “Bruce, don’t worry. We have our first appointment next week. And there are vitamins in the medicine cabinet.” He nods, cuddling you close. You’re already drifting off and he’s happy to see you getting rest. He can ask more questions tomorrow, but for now, he wants to bask in this moment. To feel the joy of knowing the future he wanted was coming.