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spidernuggets · 3 days ago

Text

my honest reaction

Crawling Back to You

Chapter twenty-three

Synopsis: How long can you really avoid talking to Rex?

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.0k

Chapter: 23/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW/CW: Mild Depictions of Wounds, Oral F!Recieving, Edging if You Turn Your Head and Squint, Switch!Rex

Note: An apology for taking so long.

“I still can’t believe Rex was the first one to piece anything together. Very out of character for him.”

“Honestly, I think he was just spiteful enough to have created something out of nothing anyways. He just got lucky with me.” You had been indulging Rae’s questioning for a little while now, exhaustion making your eyes burn, and your arms feel heavy.

“So that time you caved in Rex’s chest?”

“I didn’t cave in his chest-!... But- well yeah, that was the first time I used it in combat. I had more thought of it as a way of restraint before then.”

“And with Omnipotus-?”

“He doesn’t have human DNA; all I could do was heal you guys during that one.”

“So, you’re limited to human DNA? But Invincible isn’t human-”

“I had to spend a lot of time connecting with him, but I think I can. I haven’t got the chance to try yet, but when I’m near him I can feel it.”

“Can you feel it when you’re around everyone?” Rae shifted slightly.

“I mean- technically? If I focus on it, I can notice the blood flow and heartbeat of everyone in a room or surrounding area. But it’s like noticing surrounding footsteps, it’s in the background.”

“Can you recognize someone by their blood… signature, I guess?”

“I’ve never tried, but if you can recognize a footstep, then I’d say yes?”

“You should be in special ops or something, this is spy-level shit, not superhero.”

“Are you saying I’m a bad superhero?” You frowned, picking at the inside of your sleeve.

“I’m just saying it’s interesting that you do this over anything else.”

There’s a small pause where the two of you just look at each other. “I want…to be good, Rae.”

“To be good, or to do good?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yes.” She looks at you like she’s trying to read you, and for the first time since she first came in, a disfigured mess on that table, you realize how long she has to go. You hadn’t thought about it much in the weeks that had passed, but Rae was probably several months away from being fully healed. Her face still contained massive bruising from being compressed against the spine of the creature she’d tried to expand out of. If you had truly wanted to be good, you would have gone with Rex. Maybe you would have died alongside Kate, but at least you wouldn’t have to live with this guilt. Is that selfish? It felt like an easy way out, an escape from your regrets and the wrong you had done.

All this frustration with Rex and Cecil, and the whole team about not respecting you or believing in you, and where did that come from? When did you start to think you knew better than Cecil? You used to know that you were good, doing good. What if you never were?

“Ma’am?” You turn your head to a nurse who had poked her head into the room, expecting that she was talking to Rae. “Stedman says he wants you at room 1A, and he also said…” She grimaces faintly, “To ‘stop taking out your goddamn earpiece’.” The nurse then gives you a sheepish smile before leaving, letting the door slowly close behind her.

“Somethings never change, I guess.” Rae chuckles, nodding at your glance towards her, a small approval for you to go.

“I’ll be back-”

“No, once you’re done with this, you need to go home. Get some sleep. And then, when you’ve finally rested, come back.” She smiles almost mischievously. “Or once you’ve finally figured out this whole Rex thing.”

You sigh and wave her off before taking off out the door.

“This is-” Cecil is introducing you to a woman sitting on the edge of her bed. She has dark hair, pulled back into a prim and proper bun, and more eye-catchingly, her right arm appears to have been completely snapped in half. It’s been reset, at least from what you can tell. Gauze wrapped taut around it. Her left eye is also swollen shut; an ugly purple bruise spread through the surrounding area.

“How is he? Cecil, have you found him yet?” The woman interrupted, weariness ate through her tone, she was propped up in the bed, her eyes dropping low. She had to be fighting to not lose consciousness.

“This is Killdeer, Debbie.” He gestures to you with a stretch of his arm, not responding to her previous question. “She’s with the Guardians; she can help you.”

She gives you a once-over, her eye that is open is clouded. If she were more sentient at the moment, maybe she would push back, but instead, she just feebly nods. “Have her help Oliver first.”

“He’s fine, Debbie. April is watching him just a few rooms over. She can help you get back to Oliver quicker.” He gives you a look before he seems to decide that he’s no longer needed, leaving you alone in the room with the woman.

“Hi.” You shake off your exhaustion to the best of your ability, pulling up a chair from the corner. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

She just nods, her eye shutting as she seems to sink further into the bed.

“It’s broken, right?”

She nods again in silence. Great talk.

You take her wrist in your grasp, trying your best not to put too much pressure on her injury. “I can heal the surrounding tissues and muscle, but I can’t heal bone. You’ll have to treat it with the same amount of care as any other instance of breaking an arm, if that makes sense?” You decide not to mention that you won’t be doing anything for her eye while you’re at it. You just don’t have enough juice for that much.

“Okay.”

It’s a pretty rudimentary wound, splitting of several important arteries and intense ripping of the flexor carpi radialis and brachioradialis muscles. The kind of thing you saw every day on your rounds while Rex was still healing. You only let it take a few minutes, rushing through it a little, with how familiar the process is, and you know that if you take too much energy up, you won’t be making the drive home. It’d been so long since you had to sleep in the hospital that you weren’t even sure you had a bed here anymore.

The woman’s distressed expression eased; she seemed much more relaxed now, the majority of her pains lifted from her like the ripping off of a Band-Aid. You wondered now if she was experiencing that fuzzy feeling Rex mentioned. In fact… you were really curious if that was just him. An exhausted part of your brain filed that away to ask about further at a later time.

“Well, you should be set, Miss…” You realized you didn’t know her last name, so you settled on just giving her a small smile, standing up from your seat. She doesn’t open her eyes, just breathes out a small ‘thank you’.

You’re done, you can leave, go home, rest. But for some reason, you hesitate. You glance back at Debbie. The violet bruise catches your attention again instantaneously.

‘To be good, or do good?’

You could heal her. You could do your job and help her to the extent of your abilities, but you stopped because you wanted to go home. Rae was crushed in the process of stopping a nuclear threat. Rex was shot in the head for it. And you’re afraid of a little episode? It made you feel bitter. It made you take a few steps back towards Debbie. You should do your job-

The door opens behind you, and you practically snap your neck to look back. A variety of faces came to mind for who you would have guessed it was, but none of those were correct. Mark Grayson hesitates for only a moment, his eyes meeting yours. The slightest, almost imperceptible tension in his brow makes you feel like you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be, but then it’s as quickly as it came, it’s gone. He’s shooting over to the woman’s bedside.

“Mom.” He sits in front of her, pulling her into a hug that has you cringing over her freshly set radius and ulna.

“I’m okay, Mark.” He lets her lie back down, and she caresses his face.

Wait…mom?

“I’m fine, really.” His hands come up to her hand, gripping tightly. “I can hardly feel it, thanks to your friend here.”

His head swivels to look at you just as you’re backing up to leave the room. This whole interaction feels far too intimate for you to be watching. The attention has you freezing in place, giving a small wave. He blinks a few times, examines you like he’s truly noticing you for the first time. You were praying he wasn’t questioning why he was seeing you so much. It wasn’t suspicious, right? You were a Guardian; he sees them all the time, right?

A few tense seconds pass, and you can feel your heart rate start to pick up as you try to remember how fast he can cross the expanse of the room to reach you.

Come on, now this is just downright paranoid. He wouldn’t attack you! He has no reason to; you haven’t done anything. You’re a Guardian, one of the good guys. You’re just back-up, he would understand.

He would…Right?

“Thank you.” He finally says, nodding his head gently at you, before he turns his attention back to his mother.

You take this as your cue to get out, not the slightest bit interested in hearing whatever they were going to talk about. The mini fight-or-flight reaction you’d just experienced completely zapped you of any remaining energy.

It’s time to go home.

The drive is quiet. So quiet it almost feels suffocating, but you can’t seem to lift your arm to turn on the radio. Your mind was buzzing, jumping from subject to subject as you slowed down for the fourth consecutive red light. Rae’s words once again ring out in your head.

‘What’s the backup for you?’

It was dawning on you how easily you could be taken out. The ReAniman in your training room. Cecil had specially ordered it, filled it with blood so that you could practice on it. He told you this specifically. If one of those were finished and put up against you, without any blood inside, you were done. This probably brought comfort to Cecil in some way, but it was an interesting thing to come to terms with in the cold silence of your car. You weren’t sure when the shift happened, when you started feeling invulnerable, but it had happened. It got easier and easier to metaphorically, and most times, physically, bring people to their knees.

You went from feeling some of the worst nerves of your life because you were expected to train with Rex, to considering making Cecil put you in when Mark was actively being destroyed by that Viltrumite woman.

You were getting cocky. Cocky leads to sloppy. You weren’t as indestructible as the others. A security guard with an itchy trigger finger took you out for Christ’s sake.

Itchy trigger finger. What a cold thing to think. When did you get so unforgiving?

Being less selfish is a wonderful idea in concept. At least it was until Rex was lying in his bed at the Guardians, his eyes drilling into the ceiling for more than twenty minutes now. She’d be home by now, right?

He still has the address.

It’s really fucking late.

He still has the address.

Seriously? A few hours after deciding not to be selfish and already considering knocking on her door? He’d already lived this story. He knew the ending; it remained entirely too fresh in his mind. Sometimes fresher than the event that happened not too long afterwards.

He rolled over, staring now at the blank wall that abutted his bed.

His stomach hurt, his mind hadn’t been quiet in hours, well, in days, well, maybe a few months. He felt queasy and uneasy, over what? He wasn’t doing anything! Why did he feel this way? He’s not supposed to feel this way. It made him feel weak, and desperate, and-

He’s not going to give in. He can’t. He’s deciding to be selfless this one time. He has to stick to it.

And that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

It feels like it’s been a thousand years since you last stepped into your apartment and genuinely had the time to sit down. The couch felt more stiff than you remembered, coarse under your fingertips as you spread them in a quick swipe over the side. Your back fleshed with the cushions as you let out an exhausted sigh. With the Gala, the Viltrumite, Angstrom Levy, and the hospital, you felt like you could sleep for a few weeks. A quick check in with Cecil on the drive home had told you the Guardians were called in to some disturbance in New Orleans. A kaiju of some sort was laying waste to the city, nothing you’d be much help against.

Your mind kept swirling even as your eyes drifted closed, too exhausted to get up and crawl to your bed that resided just a room over. Mune’s offer sounded clear in your ears, an escape. A way out. But did you really want a way out? Rex was surprisingly supportive, at least you thought he was. The lack of conversation on the flight really wasn’t helping with your confusion there.

Rex Splode. Rex. Splode. The asshole. The driving force in any suspicion around you. The one person besides, maybe Rae, who you almost wished was here right now. Rex Splode.

You could feel that you were losing consciousness as your thoughts started to swirl in circles, drifting into mindless babbling. Rex Splode, who saved your life. Well, saved you from a pretty dangerous situation at least. Rex Splode, who taught you how to punch without dislocating your elbow. Rex Splode, who showed up at your door drunk. You hummed with a smile at the memory. Rex Sloane, who showed up at your door to ask you to go back with him. Smile fading, you opened your eyes against the exhaustion, letting out a brisk breath. You needed to figure out what was going on between you two before you regretted it-

A knock on your door had you jerking upwards, nails digging deeper into the cushions. Cecil needed to learn when you needed rest. Whatever new problem had presented itself, it’d better be fucking cataclysmic. You weren’t the only hero capable of anything, call in The Immortal or- anyone else. Mark wasn’t in great condition, but he could do something if need be!

Leave me ALONE-!

You yanked the door open, ready to vocalize your internal monologue of your exhaustion, but the words died in your throat.

“Hi.”

You’re awake now.

You paused, brows furrowing together tightly. “Hey.” Your guest shifted subtly, he looked…lost. Like he’d taken a few wrong turns and somehow was now here, at your doorstep, at this ungodly hour.

“You said we’d talk.” Rex seems to shake the look off for a few moments and front with a more confident air to him. Phony, you recognize.

You blinked a few times, shaking your head and biting back a laugh even though you didn’t find this situation remotely funny. Ironic, poorly timed maybe, but not funny. “Rex…It’s-” You leaned back, trying to see into the kitchen, but your view of the microwave clock was blocked. “It’s really fucking late-”

“We need to talk.” He said it again, more firmly, his fists clenching at his sides.

Pause. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” That look returned for a moment, and it made your heart clench. Would you really tell him the truth? The truth that he needed to look further than you, do better than you. But even that felt like giving yourself too much credit, assuming that he even saw you as more to begin with. Or would you tell him the other truth? That you were beginning to feel like you needed him alongside your daily oxygen supply. You looked for him when entering a room, missed him when he wasn’t around. That you wanted nothing more than to return to that headspace you had the other night. After only once, you were craving him, wanting to feel him again.

Not likely the latter.

“Yeah.” You affirmed finally, taking a step sideways so he could come in. He only entered enough for you to close the door, then he seemed to take root on the entryway rug.

“I…Well, you see, I- Fuck, I had it all planned out.” His eyes roam over you, then leave you to glance around the room. He looked tense.

“Do you want me to-”

“No, I need to say it.” He took a deep breath, finally settling his eyes steadfast on you. “I don’t understand why I feel this way. It’s- well, I’m not a stranger to wanting something- someone,” He let out a dry chuckle, “But this is- It fucking hurts. Is that how it’s supposed to feel?” He rings out his hands lightly, giving you a meek smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not supposed to feel like this- at least I don’t think…”

“Wha-”

“It’s like I can’t breathe when I’m near you, but I can’t breathe when I’m away from you. And I sleep and eat and- and I fuckin’ drink but it’s dry and- boring or whatever- I just-” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I swear this was supposed to be better.”

You tilt your head at him, folding your arms. You wanted him to continue, but you didn’t want to rush him. Every word he uttered seemed to send a jolt through you.

“This should be a distraction. I should come here and tell you I need to focus on the Guardians and my place there and…” He trails off, dropping his hands almost hopelessly. “But that’s not true. I actually fight better because of you.”

“What?” You scoffed lightly, taking a step back as he took one forward. It was habit, maybe defensive, afraid that if he got much closer, you wouldn’t be able to stand by what you had decided.

“Back when I left the hospital. I lied. I hadn’t been cleared to be back on the field, I just needed to do- fuck, I needed to do something. Be of use. And when I arrived, there was this- well, this giant fuckin’ octopus thing-” He extends one hand lower and the other up higher to emphasize its size. “I wasn’t…I wasn’t ready for it, or I didn’t feel like I was ready for it?” He seems to be rambling a little bit, and you could swear there was a small tremor in his hands. “It almost got me, and I froze up. I never freeze up; that’s how you die. You can’t freeze up.”

“You…You lied?” Not exactly the most out of character thing he’s ever done, but still you shook your head in mild confusion. Where was he going with this?

He holds a shaky hand out before him, watching it in a short pause. “I thought about you.”

“What?” Repeating as always.

“You got me to stand back up and fight back. Remember who I was, how much I’ve survived to get here now. If I didn’t have you, I might have stayed frozen like some stupid- fucking- something.” His eyes slowly travel up to yours, and he takes a few steps forward, closing the space between you swiftly.

You feel the entryway wall press against your back; you can feel its coolness through your shirt. Suppressing a shiver, you force your gaze upwards to him again. “What’s your point, Rex?”

“My point?” He lets out a dry, frustrated laugh, runs a hand through his hair, then utters your name in a tone you hadn’t heard before. Like he’s amazing by you, confused by you, angry with you, and longing for you all at the same time. “Why are you being like this? What changed?”

“What do you mean ‘what changed’?” You found yourself letting out a mirrored dry chuckle. “So much has changed, Rex.” You gesture to him in the little space that is left between you. “You have changed in so many ways, and it’s amazing-” He scoffs, but you hold up a hand to silence him, you needed to get through this. “It feels like it’s been a few lifetimes since I first stepped into headquarters. I can’t even remember what I was feeling on the day anymore. But I don’t feel like that person anymore.” A shallow sigh leaves your lungs. “I remember that everything felt so new and complicated, but somehow now it only feels like it’s gotten worse. Rex, I used to think I stood for something, I used to know, or at least think I knew I was good.” Your hands come together in front of you, wringing them out nervously. “You deserve good, Rex-”

“Oh, do not start that bullshit right now-” His voice is low, tense, and he leans forward just a few inches, but it effectively pins you in place. Your back straightening out to be to its entirely against the wall now. “You can’t turn the way you’ve been acting back on to me, you don’t get to pull that shit now.”

“That shit?” You repeat incredulously.

“Yeah.” His brow creases. “Like you’re putting the brakes on this for me. Some self-sacrificial bullshit-”

“Self-sacrificial- oh my GOD.” Your expression tightens to match his, and you can physically feel the tension in the room rising, even with your mutual hushed tones. “At least I actually think things through before I burst into anything. Do you ever give anything any thought?”

“That is not fair-”

“Is it? How much did you think this through, huh?” You’re leaning forward slightly now, practically talking directly in his face, inches away. “What did it take this time? Another handful of drinks at a nearby bar?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Depends! Is that what it took?”

Rex’s lip curls slightly at this, his nose scrunching. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, I’m not a fucking idiot even though you try to treat me like one. I’ve thought this through from every single fuckin’ angle, I was determined to stay away, because it’s obvious to me that you aren’t feeling the same things I am.” He leans back, which has you taking a step forward instinctively. As if you’re chasing his warmth. “I’m such a fucking idiot. I come here talking about how I can’t breathe when you aren’t near-” It seems to be hiring him that maybe he hasn’t thought this through as thoroughly he had thought and now he’s experiencing regret in real time. You can see it flash across his face as he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair as he turns to look away. “Fucking Christ-” He pauses, and the silence extends uncomfortably long. You want to step forward again, follow him the small amount of area he now is away. “You’re right. I should have thought this through.” He sounds defeated, small. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Shit.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” He’s taking another step back, head completely turned towards the door.

You feel your movement before you register it fully, your steps following his in quick succession, your right hand gripping the front of his hoodie tightly, and your left coming up to his face to make him look at you. And suddenly you kiss him. His response is delayed, his whole body feels like it goes rigid under your touch. But it only takes a few moments for him to catch up. You almost expect him to break it, to step away. He doesn’t. Instead, he’s pushing you to the side, against the front door. His hand traverses up your neck into your hair.

This isn’t a particularly healthy way of continuing this conversation, but your body was screaming to feel him again much louder than your mind was begging you to stop. You break the kiss to let him breathe, not looking him in the eye before you decide to trail kisses down the side of his face. He hardly let you touch him last time, and you were making up for it now.

“You said we’d talk-” He huffed it out, a hand coming over his mouth as a form of restraint. His head is angled upwards as your mouth comes in contact with the column of his throat. “You lied to me-” A groan cuts him off.

More than you know. The thought has you hesitating, a small action that Rex doesn’t seem to mind using to his advantage. His lips are back on yours again, pushing you further against the door. His hands pressing firmly to your hips, a small motion that has his fingertips brushing against the soft skin beneath your shirt there.

“Talk to me.” He’s panting it into your mouth as you both catch your breath. His digits push further up on your abdomen. His hands feel cold against your heated skin, forcing a soft gasp from your lungs. “I want you to talk to me, please just talk to me- I-” He mutters it out through kisses, getting sloppier each time, starting at your lips, then eventually the sides of your mouth as he loses precision. “I can’t- You have to talk to me, please.”

“Rex-”

“Please.” His hand splays across your stomach, further restraining you. “Please, please, please, please, please-”

He repeats the plea over and over against your skin, his other hand ensnaring in your hair, tugging firmly so you expose your throat to him.

“You confuse me.” It’s the first thing that comes to the haze of your mind. You feel him hesitate, his shaky breath heating your exposed throat, causing you to swallow roughly. “Being around you makes me feel… confused.” You let the words out into the quiet, hoping it will do something.

There’s a small stretch of silence, and neither of you moves. Your head thuds softly against the door as you let it rest back completely. The sound of his ragged breathing mixed with the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

“Keep going.” His voice cuts through you, it’s slightly deeper, tone laced with something you hadn’t heard from him before. You lean your head forward to see him waiting, his pupils are completely blown, and his lips are parted. In what feels like a millisecond, you study his face, committing him to memory just as he is. The curve of his nose, the way his jaw shifts the longer you take to respond. The light dusting on his cheekbones. It makes you want to kick yourself. He wanted you, felt so deeply for you that he put his ego on the line three times now. And you had been so stuck in your head that you hadn’t even registered it. It felt like it was fully clicking. The silence on the plane, the hot and cold of your interactions. His hands pulling your hair back as you kneeled on the Guardians HQ kitchen floor, knee deep in an episode.

His irregular heartbeat when you healed him in the privacy of his room. His piss poor apology at the hospital, the immediate cheesy smile he gave you when you showed up to visit him that first day. He let you sit and examine his hand for ages. Paid you twenty bucks for pamphlets that obviously weren’t worth that much. Nicknames. Little waves across rooms.

You were feeling stupid. It was so obvious. The realization only made you feel like more of a piece of shit. Which was almost amazing considering how you’ve been feeling lately.

“You hated me, and I didn’t know why. But you still talked to me, trained me.” His expression softens to something almost sorrowful. You keep speaking before he can interrupt. “You saved me, stayed behind when everyone left-” You search for the words, trying to ignore the way his hand in your hair tightens. “I- well, I don’t really talk to anyone. Or- I didn’t use to.” You gesture behind him to the carousel frame next to the TV that Rae gave you. “I mean, fuck, I don’t even have any picture to put in that stupid- My point is, I’m not good at this.”

Rex’s eyes search yours, but he doesn’t speak.

“You said you don’t know how to breathe when I’m around. I don’t know how to think, or how to stop thinking- somehow simultaneously?” You’re floundering slightly, but you don’t stop. “I think I-” No, it’s too soon. Far too soon.

“You think you?”

“I think…I know I want you.” Saying it somehow makes something else click.

Wait, that’s what he was saying in Mune’s library? Are you fucking kiddi-

The movement is sudden, his hands leave their prospective areas of your body, and slither to your upper thighs. A sound of surprise presses out of your vocal cords as your feet leave the ground. It seems effortless, which you suppose makes sense, super strength and all. Your arms run to the back of his neck, pulling you tightly against him. You feel the plush of your bed first as he practically drops you down. And then you feel the material of your comforter in a much more real sense as you’re ridden of your pants and simultaneously your underwear. Your breathing turns shaky, but you don’t stop him, even as he hesitates for a moment. Whether he stopped to give you a chance to ask not to go further, or just to simply admire, you couldn’t tell.

His hands feel warm against your hips as he drags you to the edge of the bed. You hear him lower to his knees, then feel him place a soft kiss at the edge of your left thigh, towards your knee. His other hand grips your other thigh tightly, pushing it back into the bed. He trails the kisses closer to your core, and when he’s tantalizingly close, he switches to your other thigh. Peppering them in such a way that it felt like your skin was searing at the touch. Your chest is starting to hurt from how intense your breathing is.

“Fuck-” It slips out, just a whisper. But he obviously hears it. You can feel him smile against the softness of your skin. And then you feel the flat of his tongue against your core. Swirling deliberately slow as you tense at the action. The distinct lack of attention to that area contrasted then to the way he seems to solely focus on it has your mind reeling. You instinctively arch against him, which has his hand splaying out on your lower stomach, holding you down.

You need to do something with your hands; the energy inside you is spreading to every limb, making you feel restless. His hair is hardly long enough at this point to grab, but it doesn’t fully stop you. He groans into you, the noise vibrating against you in a way that has your thighs tensing against his head. While pushing two fingers inside of you, he uses his arm that holds you down to also push back your thigh.

“Christ, if I’d known I could have this effect on you, I would have tried this sooner.” He practically purrs it out against you, accentuating his words with a swirl against your clit.

“Pretty cocky- f-fuck- for someone who was begging me to s-speak to him earlier.” You grit your teeth, trying to push your hips into his fingers further, but to no avail.

“It comes and goes.” He curls his digits in such a way that it has you gasping, your whole body jerking. He seems to notice and puts all his attention on that specific spot, his mouth returning to you at the same time. It’s almost too much. The feeling rides the border between pleasure and pain. You can feel it building, feel yourself tense up. And you know he can feel it too, because just like that, his fingers disappear, and so does his tongue.

“Fuck- I thought you were done being a dick.” Pressing your head into the bed, you try to will the feeling to return, but it fades away as quickly as it was approaching.

“It comes and goes.” He repeats again, you look down to see him licking his fingers clean. The action alone has you clenching on nothing. “I want you to tell me something.”

“Is this really the time, Rex?” You almost whine, letting your head fall back.

“Yes.” His hand comes down to your thigh, his thumb rubbing soft circles against it. It didn’t feel purposeful, but rather, it felt compulsive. Like he couldn’t stop himself. “Is this going to end the same way as last time?”

You’re quiet. Your head is so clouded from the speed of everything, it was hard to give something like that genuine thought. “Rex…”

“Be honest. Please.”

“You should have asked this earlier you know, I could say anything I want to try to convince you to continue.” The joke lands flat, and he doesn’t seem impressed.

“I’ll be able to tell.”

“How?” You look back down at him again at this, he looks the most serious you’ve ever seen him.

“I’ll just…I’ll just know.” He doesn’t explain further, and you suspect he has no intention of explaining his thought process.

“I want you to stay.” It’s the truth. Not because you want him to return to what he was doing, or because you want to kiss him. But because you always seem to want him near.

His eyes soften, and his restless thumb stops its relentless circles. He moves forward again, continuing with renewed energy against your already throbbing clit. His fingers return to that spot, as if by muscle memory, and far quicker than you expect. In no time at all your legs feel like they’re locking in place, everything inside you tightening to the point you’re hardly breathing.

“Rex- fuck- Rex please-” Your words are sharp, forced out of you, and slurred. This time he doesn’t stop. The pace of his fingers remained the same, and the swiping of his tongue hastened. The stimulation pushes you over the edge, a gasp asking you as you jolt against him. He continues his assault until you’re able to catch your breath. Your quiet pleas now for the opposite of what you’d be asking before. He lapped at your overstimulated clit a few more times before finally listening to your soft whining.

You thought you were exhausted earlier. The simple weariness you were feeling then couldn’t compare by miles to complete and utter exhaustion you were feeling now. You could hardly move, which makes it more surprising when you hardly registers that you’re being moved, settled in bed correctly. Lifted section by section as Rex pulls down the duvet to cover you. A moment passes, and he’s shifting next to you, pulling you up against him. A small voice in your head scolds you for doing nothing for him. You’d make it up to him, you told yourself. In this instance, it didn’t seem like he minded. His warm hands feel like a furnace against your hip as he settles his hand against you. He places strategic kisses against your shoulder through your shirt, leading up to the back of your neck. You let out a sigh that has your whole body relaxing as he continues.

“You mentioned earlier that you don’t feel like that person who walked into the headquarters anymore.” He’s whispering it against your neck, laying gentle kisses on the sensitive area where your shoulder connects to it.

You hummed in response, your eyes closed, fighting off the extensive need for sleep. Actively feeling the world fade around you.

“I don’t care if you aren’t that person anymore.”

“Oh really?” You somehow manage to murmur, moments away from drifting off.

“Yeah, it’s not her I fell in love with.”

Author's Note:

THE L WORD!!! LESBIANS!

This was originally going to be two separate chapters but I combined them because you guys have been waiting for fucking forever. So sorry about that 💔. Cecil x Reader short fic chapter 1 has been out for a little bit btw! "What's the Perfect Time?"

Also, take a shot for everytime I write “Right?” In this fic, goddamn.

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101 @0ut0fsweets @cheeyan @spidernuggets @sweet-cuddlebug @ohmysoultakemysoul @lapisbwub @velovicy @liquideyes @insirecrate @isnotraven @thatonegayloser616 @viovya @miss-ivy-kyle @kaillou66 request to be tagged for new parts!

Chapter twenty-four

56 notes · View notes

spidernuggets · 8 days ago

Note

im a freak your honor. i NEEED first time anal with jason. Reader's into it but it's a big motherfucking stretch....

(sorry if this isnt your cup of tea 😔)

NOT MY CUP OF TEA? u know my soul like nobody ever has anon. never question ur judgement again.

this is long. I’m sorry. I got excited. god forbid I have a little FUN 🫩

18+ minors dni

warnings: 🍑 play + anal sex (fem receiving), corruption kink if you squint, sprinkle of size kink, jason bites!

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

two weeks ago, you had asked jason todd if he’d ever tried anal. you mentioned that you’d been, well…experimenting with a plug, and accidentally discovered you might be…y’know, interested. his answer—after a stuttering start and an almost immediate hard-on—had been a resounding fuck, yes. and now you’re laid out in front of him on your belly, a pillow wedged under your hips to prop you up as his tongue circles and prods at your tight entrance. you gasp into the bedsheets, letting one of your hands snake under your abdomen and down between your legs to rub your clit as your eyes flutter closed.

truth is, jason hadn’t stopped thinking about your pretty ass since that conversation. he’d jerked off more in these last two weeks than he had in the past two months combined just picturing it. his cock almost hurts from how hard it is, and he’s rutting against the mattress in search of relief, but he knows he won’t be satisfied until he’s buried to the hilt in your virgin hole. he gives you one last languid lick and punctuates it with a light slap to your ass, before sitting back up onto his heels with a raunchy sigh.

“you ready, ma?” he asks with a rasp, reaching for the lube next to the bed. your belly tightens in anticipation, but you nod hungrily, turning your head to meet his gaze. he’s watching you intently as he drizzles the cold lube onto your skin, spreading it generously. “tell me if it’s too much,” he says, his tone gentle despite how much precum he’s leaking just from lubing you up. “just say the word and we’ll stop, yeah?” you nod again, biting your lip when your eyes trail down to his thick cock twitching between his thighs. fuck. you’ve got this...right?

you rest your head on the bed again and close your eyes, trying to relax your body as much as you can. jason’s green eyes are almost black as he presses one of his lube-coated fingers against your pretty hole, sinking it in slowly and stopping at his second knuckle. he hisses at the tightness—fuck, imagine how it’ll feel gripping his cock—but smiles pridefully to himself at how easily he slides into you. you have been practicing. good girl. “you okay, princess?”

your fingers find your clit again and you rub small circles as you adjust to the unfamiliar feeling. “mm-hm,” you breathe, shuddering as he pumps slowly. “keep going, jay.” he obliges you, his breathing heavy as he watches the way your neglected pussy glistens with arousal when he pushes in deeper, past his knuckle. fuck, look how wet this is makin’ you, ma. he’s holding back for your sake, but his thoughts are far less gentle than his demeanour. nobody’s ever touched you like this, huh?

“jay,” you whine, arching your belly into the mattress demandingly. he lets out a low chuckle, knowing you’re asking for more. you want it bad, don’t you, angel? he’s still floored this is something you initiated, let alone are begging for, but he’s not one to deny you an indulgence. you feel a second large finger prodding at the tight ring, and after a brief moment of resistance, it sinks into you fully. a heavy moan slips past your lips as he works to relax the rigid muscle, his fingers filling you in a way your little silver plug never did.

jason’s lips are parted and his pupils are blown at the sight of you like this. his free hand absently finds his aching cock as he continues to stretch you slowly, his eyes unable to focus between the tantalising view of your drooling, neglected pussy or the obscenity of his thick fingers disappearing inside you. your skin is glossy from the lubricant and he can feel your muscles clenching for him like he’s never felt them before—fuck, you’re gonna milk him dry if you keep that up.

another deep, shaky cry stumbles out of you, snapping him back to earth. “feelin’ good, ma?” he asks, scissoring his fingers gently to coax you open. your eyes are screwed shut and your fingertips are working your clit faster, and there’s less and less resistance around his fingers with every motion, but you’re too busy whining into the sheets to respond. a self-satisfied smile tugs at his lips as he reaches for the lube again, this time coating his cock from angry, leaking tip to base. “need you to talk to me, baby.”

your voice is thick when you manage to speak, and you know you’re barely coherent, but there’s a mangled yes in there somewhere that finally prompts jason to withdraw his fingers and reposition himself right above your plump ass. you thought you’d feel exposed, embarrassed, or vulnerable right now—and maybe you do a little, deep down—but all you can focus on is how desperately you want to feel his fat cock stuff your tight hole, like you’re a needy virgin all over again. your skin is hot with desire as he braces himself with one palm on your hip, and your shoulders tighten when you feel his tip prod your gaping entrance.

“breathe, princess,” jason coos, a crack in his voice betraying his own desperation. his eyes are lidded as he watches himself breach your rim slowly, using his other hand to guide his length into you. he bites down on his lip harshly to hold back a moan as you seize around him with a high-pitched gasp, sending a shockwave up his abdomen. “fuck,” he hisses, digging his fingertips into your soft skin. “fuck, you’re tight, baby.” his breathing is irregular, and for the first time in years he has to remind himself he can’t cum yet—he’s not even a third of the way in, for fuck’s sake. “you okay?”

you feel like the air has been knocked out of your lungs, but you manage a nod, prompting jason to inch further into you. fuck, he’s so big. it’s unfamiliar and a very tight squeeze, but it’s not really painful—kind of the opposite, in fact. you try to recalibrate your breathing and resume teasing your clit, letting yourself lean into the foreign pleasure blooming at jason’s intrusion. you pry your eyes open to glance over your shoulder, widening them when you realise he’s already sunken halfway in. he catches your expression and grins.

“what’s the matter?” he asks, his tone dipped in faux sincerity. “didn’t think it was gonna fit?” jason lowers himself down until his lips graze your temple. “I think you like gettin’ broken in, ma.” you can feel his smile against your skin as he bottoms out suddenly, earning a cry from you at the feeling of his cock deeper than you’ve ever felt it. he groans gutturally as well, stilling his hips while you squeeze harshly around his length. jesus, you feel incredible. he’s not gonna last long.

you’re reduced to a whining, unintelligible mess as your body frantically adjusts to his size, and there’s a surge of warmth between your legs as his cock grazes your walls. he’s so big you can almost feel him in your cunt as well, and it’s overwhelming—that, paired with his weight on your frame and your fingers on your clit, has you feeling a familiar tightness in your lower belly, though it’s not quite like you’ve experienced it before. fuck, am I gonna cum like this?

“you’re bein’ so loud, baby,” jason teases, sinking his fingers into your hip even harder as he thrusts slowly, trying to delay his orgasm. his voice is strained, but that doesn’t stop him from having his fun with you. “never been fucked like this before, hm? all mine now, aren’t you, ma?” you let your head drop back onto the mattress as you moan uncontrollably, heat pooling in your abdomen as jason’s thrusts get more rhythmic. he shudders at the way you clench around him, a feeling he knows all too well. “fuck, you gonna cum already, angel? just like that?”

he’s grateful you can’t see his face as he resists his own impending release, otherwise his taunting would be meaningless. “c’mon, baby, show me you want it. make yourself cum while I fuck this pretty little ass.” god, he’s said some filth in the time you’ve been together, but this jason is a man possessed. you obey, of course; the tightness in your belly reaches breaking point as your fingers move faster on your tender clit, and the feeling of his fat cock sliding against your sensitive walls radiates out into your devastatingly empty pussy, and within minutes you’re crying his name as you climax around him, convulsing against his muscular body.

your spasming muscles and pleading voice are all it takes to drive jason over the edge. he releases with what borders on a growl, instinctively sinking his teeth into your shoulder as hot ropes of cum spill out inside you. he thrusts raggedly until he’s emptied his load completely, before letting his hips come to a stop. you tremble underneath him as he pulls out slowly, pressing soft kisses along your upper back—and a lingering one where a bite mark has formed. he leans back onto his heels to admire the mess, his chest heaving and his cock still twitching.

you’re a vision—your body glistens with sweat and lubricant, and thick, hot cum spills out of your gaped hole and drips down your slick, swollen pussy. fuck, you’re so perfect. “you okay, baby?” he asks softly, his green eyes still fixated on the cum leaking out of you. his big hands rub the backs of your thighs lovingly. you manage a yeah between shaky breaths, reaching back for his hand. he obliges you, interlocking his fingers with yours and crawling his way beside you. “y’did good,” he says, his voice warm as he lies on his side to meet your gaze. he runs his thumb along your fingers, and you smile sheepishly. you’ll give him the positive feedback when you can feel your legs again. “alright,” he sighs, rolling onto his back with your hand still in his. “let’s get you cleaned up, ma.”

357 notes · View notes

spidernuggets · 8 days ago

Note

im a freak your honor. i NEEED first time anal with jason. Reader's into it but it's a big motherfucking stretch....

(sorry if this isnt your cup of tea 😔)

NOT MY CUP OF TEA? u know my soul like nobody ever has anon. never question ur judgement again.

this is long. I’m sorry. I got excited. god forbid I have a little FUN 🫩

18+ minors dni

warnings: 🍑 play + anal sex (fem receiving), corruption kink if you squint, sprinkle of size kink, jason bites!

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

357 notes · View notes

spidernuggets · 8 days ago

Text

Wedding Crasher

Pairing: Jason Todd [RH] x !Reader

Word Count: 2536

There were moments Jason had wished he’d died a second time, not in fire or ash, not in some dark alley with a crowbar splitting his bone, but in the small, colorless hours between breath and regret. The kind of death that isn’t violent but slow and quiet, like grief that won’t let go. That’s what it felt like the day he left you in that hospital bed, not just like running, but like burying a part of himself alive. You’d gone down because of him. A mission gone wrong. One turn he shouldn’t have taken. He saw the moment unfold in reverse over and over, how he’d barked the call too soon, how you’d followed without hesitation, how the explosion ripped through the corridor seconds later. You never blamed him, not once, but you hadn’t opened your eyes either.

They said it was a coma. Temporary. But Jason couldn’t stand to hear the word. He couldn’t stand the machines, the smell of bleach and loss, or the way your skin looked paler with each passing hour.

He hated hospitals, really hated them. Not because they were cold or quiet, but because they reminded him of his mother. The way she used to lie in beds just like yours, skin gray and breath shallow, tubes in her arm from the overdose before and the one still coming. The way she'd always looked at him with that empty kind of apology like she didn’t know how to be better, but wanted him to forgive her anyway.

That same sick helplessness had crept up his spine as he sat beside your bed, fists clenched in his lap, begging a God he didn’t believe in to trade places with you. And one morning, just before sunrise, he realized he couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t sit there and wait to see the moment your eyes opened and saw him, the man who had let you down. So he left.

He didn’t disappear entirely. Not the way he wanted to. He sent a letter, short, cowardly, a bleeding wound dressed in too few words. Every year after that, he sent something else. Small gifts, all without a return address. A book with your favorite author’s first edition cover. A pressed flower sealed in a leather-bound journal. A new set of combat gloves, custom-stitched with reinforced knuckles, like he still knew what you needed. He tracked you the way ghosts haunt places they used to love. Always close. Never seen. He watched you recover from afar, watched you start walking again, training again, laughing again, even when he wasn’t sure it was real. You moved on, and Jason stayed frozen in the space you left behind. Because every time he tried to come back, something stopped him. The shame. The fear. The memory of your body broken under flickering lights. He lived in rooftops and shadows, always near but never known, and maybe that was his punishment: to see you live a life he no longer had the right to touch.

And then, the invitation. It showed up in his PO box one Tuesday morning, sandwiched between two burner invoices and a half-empty pack of nicotine gum. No return address. Just a name. Yours. He knew your handwriting instantly, the way your Y curled slightly too long at the base. It punched the breath from his lungs. He hadn’t realized you’d found him.

Inside was a photo, printed in soft matte ink: you and another man, Cole Harren. Jason knew him. Not well. But well enough to know he was the kind of guy who looked clean on paper, did everything by the book, checked all the right boxes and thought that made him worthy. He didn’t love you like Jason did. He couldn’t. Not really. And it showed in the way he held you in that picture, possessive, polished, too proud of what he had in his arms. Like you were something he won, not someone he loved.

You weren’t smiling. Not really. Your lips were curved like they were told to be, like someone was watching. And that was all it took.

Everything Jason had buried, every feeling, every ache, every moment of silence he’d forced himself to live with, snapped its chains and came clawing back like vengeance. The jealousy, the rage, the guilt. The love.

It should’ve been him. It was supposed to be him. He knew it the way a man knows when a gun is pressed to his ribs, in his bones, in his breath. And maybe he always knew this day would come. He just never imagined he’d be the one who let it happen.

Not without fighting. Not without seeing you one last time.

So he did what all lost dogs do.

He found his way back home.

He didn’t stop moving for three days. Ran names through blacklisted servers, bribed crooked bartenders, cornered old contacts in alleys and smoke-filled basements, all to find you. Everyone knew something, even if they didn’t realize it.

Piece by piece, he followed the trail until it brought him here, to the kind of house you used to dream about. A small colonial. White picket fence. A creaky porch and a garden so perfect, it looked like you’d poured yourself into it every quiet Sunday.

A home big enough for a family of three. Maybe four. Big enough for the life he never stopped seeing when he closed his eyes.

He stood across the street, half-hidden behind the frame of his helmet, watching as Cole stormed out of the driveway. Jaw tight. Hands clenched. He looked pissed, like you’d fought. Like he’d lost. Jason smiled, not because he enjoyed the scene, but because it confirmed what he already knew: you two weren’t as picture perfect as you seemed. You could do better.

As soon as the car disappeared, he crossed the street in a few quick strides, moving straight to the side of the house. He kept low, close to the siding, until he reached the kitchen window. It was cracked open, just enough to slide your fingers in and lift. Maybe a coincidence. But it didn’t feel accidental.

He climbed in without hesitation, boots landing soft on the kitchen tile. The air smelled like apple and cinnamon. A dark red candle flickering out on the counter. The space looked warm, lived-in. A perfect little domestic postcard.

He felt his stomach churn, a wave of something sharp and sick hit him as he looked around, imagining what could have been, what he gave up.

He crossed the floor in slow steps, each one quieter than the last, his hand dragging across the white walls, pausing when his fingers brushed against a frame. A photo of you and Cole on the beach. You were smiling, but now how he remembered. His jaw tightened, a sharp twist of jealousy curling low in his chest, bitter and ugly. He hated the way Cole touched you. Hated the frame, the house, himself.

But all of that disappeared the second he saw you.

You stood in front of the mirror, veil in hand, dress half-zipped, spine rigid like you were holding yourself together by sheer will. And just like that, every thought bled out of his head.

You looked breathtaking. Like a fucking princess.

“Jesus…” he whispered. “You look beautiful.”

You turned slowly. Like you already knew he’d be there. “Jason…” you breathed, voice trembling.

You stepped toward him, slowly, like your body didn’t believe he was real. “What are you doing here?” you asked.

Jason stared at you, eyes wide, like he was trying to memorize everything, the curve of your cheek, the way your hair was pinned back, the dress clinging to your body like it had a future. And then he laughed, a short, broken sound that had nothing to do with joy and everything to do with disbelief.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” he said, voice raw. “I could be ruining your life right now. I know that. I know what this looks like. But I couldn’t stay away. I saw your name in that invitation, I saw your face next to his, and it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I thought I could handle it. I told myself you’d moved on, that it was better this way, that I made the right choice by leaving. I thought if I watched from a distance, if I kept my head down, if I stayed out of your life, you’d be safer. I believed that, I really did, and that’s what scared me most. Because I wasn’t thinking about what you needed, I was thinking about what I could survive. And I couldn’t survive seeing you in that hospital bed, I couldn’t sit there day after day and watch the person I love more than anything in the world waste away because of me. I blamed myself, because it was my fault, it was always my fault. I led you into that mission, I made the call, I should’ve taken the hit, but it was you, and I looked at you lying there and I saw my mother, I saw every hospital room I’ve ever hated, and I panicked. I told myself walking away was the merciful thing to do. But the truth is, I was a coward. I didn’t leave for you. I left because I was too fucking scared to stay.”

You opened your mouth, tried to speak, but he kept going, voice louder, faster, like he’d been holding this in for years and couldn’t stop now.

“And then you found me,” he said, taking a shaky step forward. “You found my goddamn PO box, something no one else has ever managed to do. You sent me that invitation, you knew I’d see it. And you left the window open. Don’t tell me that was an accident, because I know you. You wanted me to come. You knew I would. And I did, because I can’t stay away from you. I never could."

He could feel his throat clench as his voice rose, his knees bruising against the cold floor as he fell, staring up at a goddess. His goddess.

“I’m begging you,” he whispered, voice hoarse and strangled. “Please. Please don’t marry him,” he cried. “I’ll do anything, fucking anything.”

“Jason—” You moved toward him, trying to pull him up, your hands tangled in his jacket, but he wasn’t listening.

He grabbed your waist like you were the edge of a cliff and he was about to fall off.

“I’ll be anything. I’ll be your stray. I’ll sleep outside the door like a dog if I have to. Just don’t marry him. Don’t do this. Not to me. Not to us.”

“Jay, get up—please—get up—” you sobbed, collapsing beside him, your knees hitting the floor with a thud.

But Jason was gone, or close to it. His forehead rested against your stomach, his arms wrapping around your waist, like you were a boat drifting away from him, and he was trying to anchor himself to you before the current pulled you out of reach.

“It should’ve been me,” he gasped. “God—it should’ve been me.”

“Me at the altar. Me holding your hand. Me waking up beside you every morning, bickering about baby names and the smell of burnt pancakes. Fuck, I saw it all. Every detail of our life and I still let you go.”

When he finally looked up at you, his eyes were bloodshot, swollen with the kind of grief that simply festers in the soul. Whatever was left of the fight in him had bled dry. All that stared back at you was the shell of a man who’d already buried the best part of himself.

“You were all I had,” he said, breathless. “And I destroyed it—you, us. I walked away like a coward. I’ve lived with that lie every damn day, and it’s eaten me alive. But if you give me one more chance—just one—I swear, I won’t let go again. I’ll love you better. I’ll love you louder. I’ll love you through the pain, through the healing. The way you always deserved."

You were both sobbing now, shoulders trembling, your fingers in his hair.

“Please,” he breathed into your skin. “Don’t marry him. Let me come home.”

—Ten years later—

“You were such a romantic Dad!” Catherine squealed, jumping onto him with a giggle. Natalia followed right behind, both of them toppling him over on the living room floor.

“Catherine, Natalia, be careful!” you scold, trying to hush your voice as you bounced baby Peter on your shoulder. “You’re not five anymore, you’re going to crush him.”

“You’re the only thing that can crush Daddy, always breaking his heart,” Natalia teased, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

Catherine snorted, adding, “...and maybe Cinderblock. That one time.”

Jason groaned dramatically from the floor. “Okay, one time. And he didn’t crush me. I was strategically retreating.”

“Right,” you said dryly. “You ‘strategically retreated’ into a pile of dumpsters.”

“The important part is that I lived. You’re welcome, Gotham.”

The girls broke into laughter, piling even closer around him like they were babies again, all limbs and noise and warmth. You smiled as you watched them, the way Jason played it up, let himself be soft for them. Like he'd learned how to stop running, and finally stand still in love.

You kissed the top of Peter’s head and moved to his crib, gently laying him down and brushing his tiny curls off his forehead. He shifted, sighed, then settled again.

Before you could step away, you felt him. Strong arms wrapping around your waist like muscle memory. His forehead rested against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

“You ever think about having one more?” he asked, almost shy.

You leaned back into him, a quiet laugh slipping out. “That’s what you said before Catherine.”

“And before Natalia,” he said, pressing a kiss to your neck. “And look how perfect they turned out.”

“Debatable,” you teased, but your smile said otherwise. And Jason didn’t need the words, your eyes had always told him the truth first.

You turned in his arms and kissed him, soft and slow, just the way you liked.

From the couch, the girls sat in hushed awe, their eyes fixed on the two of you as if watching their favorite celebrity couple live, in love, and utterly unaware of the audience. Catherine cradled your wedding portrait in her lap, quietly comparing it to the scene unfolding just a few feet away.

In the picture, Jason was kissing you like he still couldn’t believe it was real, his hands trembling at your waist, your veil slipping down your back like silk.

She studied the two of you now, then looked back at the photo.

There was no difference. Not in the look in his eyes. Not in the way he leaned toward you, still pulled by the same invisible thread of devotion.

Natalia leaned her head on her sister’s shoulder.

“You think they’ll be like this forever?”

Catherine smiled, eyes still on the photo, then on you and Jason in one another's arms.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Yeah, I do.”

308 notes · View notes

spidernuggets · 22 days ago

Text

Crawling Back to You

Chapter twenty-two

Synopsis: Your sense of identity is becoming harder and harder to define, and you aren't sure what that means for whatever is blossoming between you and Rex. Other opportunities are also making themselves known to you.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Chapter: 22/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: None Except for being a subpar chapter, sorry 💔

Note: This took me forever to write I’m so sorry. I’ve been so busy and the last chapter I didn’t much care for, so my motivation tanked. Next chapter is going to be 😛 Read the end note for a fun update!

A hand encircled your upper arm, effectively dragging you away from your longways exchange with Rex.

“Mune?” You let her drag you a few feet, glancing back to where you had seen Rex, only to have lost sight of him through the exiting groups of people.

“Yes Darling, that is my name.” She continues to pull you until you dig your heels in, effectively putting you both to a stop.

“Mune, what is this?” You pull your arm away, rubbing where her hand had dug tightly into you. Her hair was let down loosely, a stark contrast from the eccentric updo she had peacocked the night before.

Eyes bright, she gave you a somewhat coy smile, stepping back to fold her arms across her chest. “I want to hire you.”

You snorted, then when her expression didn’t falter you felt your shoulders drop a few inches. “You want to hire me?” After repeating it back dumbly, Mune just nodded.

“I was very impressed with how you dealt with the situation,” She made air quotes at the end of her words, “I could use someone like you on the team. Just picture it;” Holding her hands up, she spreads them out in front of her, setting an imaginary scene. “Some random guy with a vendetta steps foot on the grounds, and in an instant, he can’t walk. Frozen in space.” She drops her hands, stepping over next to you, then intertwining her arm with yours to continue walking. “Threats that take Lance hours of preparation to neutralize you could have finished with the raising of a single digit.”

“Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration-” You stutter, trying to manage a laugh but it couldn’t seem to push past your throat.

“I watched back over the security tapes last night, how quickly you were able to pull off the act that he was about to faint, it was seamless.”

“Uh-”

“It’s a shame you can’t seem to manage covering your tracks like that with everyone. I heard you told the crew that he ‘must have gotten over excited’, cute. But you’ll have to work on that. Discretion is extremely important-” You’re both crossing over the threshold of the house now, in through a different door than the rest so that you’re speaking privately.

“I think we’re getting a bit ahead of ourselves, I haven’t even said yes.” You stop, letting her arm trail over yours as she leaves you standing a few feet behind her. Her face softened, and she folded her hands over her stomach, tapping both thumbs together.

“My dear Merlin. I do not mean to overwhelm you, I just think we could do well together.” She tilts her head and squints slightly, clearly debating over if she should say whatever popped into her head. “You remind me a lot of someone I knew a long time ago, and she didn’t know for a long time that she could leave.”

“Leave?” You blinked, shrugging your shoulders.

“Just because you are somewhere that you maybe dreamed of being, doesn’t mean you have to stay if you’re not happy.”

“Why do you think I’m not happy?”

Mune didn’t immediately respond, her eyes trailing over you as if she were looking at someone else, someone she hasn’t been able to see for years. A long-lost friend, or a past. “Cecil informed me about the rising suspicions in the team about your abilities-”

“What is going on between you two? Cecil is one of the most secretive people I know and yet somehow you seem to know, well, everything.” The words come out more accusatory than expected, but she doesn’t falter.

“Cecil and I…Well at this point we’re past the need for secrets. If it concerns me, he tells me. And this concerns me.”

“Does he know you’re trying to undermine him?” Again, unnecessary bristling. You weren’t sure why you were getting so defensive. If you thought about it a little it actually didn’t sound like too bad of an idea. The Guardians for the most part disliked you, no one either trusted or knew the extent of your powers. And here was someone who did. Mune not only believed in you, but she wanted you. She saw you, and she wasn’t scared, or unsure. She was offering you a semblance of fulfillment. So why were you feeling like she was trying to pull the rug out from underneath you?

“Undermine is one way to put it.” She chuckled, her voice soft. “He knows I’ll try to steal you away, yes. Cecil is a lot of things, but an idiot isn’t usually one of them.” A worker entered through one of the doors at the other end of the vast room, stopping shortly. Mune turned back and gave her a nod, with that the worker left as quickly as they came. “Listen, Merlin,” She uttered your name after the nickname, “This is not something I expect you to decide on today, or tomorrow. But the opportunity will always be open to you. Alright?” Her lips pursed together in a genuine smile, and she held her arm out again for you to take. After a moment’s hesitation you complied, stepping in toe with her once again.

A job…

And just like that, you were headed back to the headquarters. Familiar mahogany plating, and white seating. Bulletproof was sitting across the aisle from you, sleeping once again. Rex was sitting in the seat in front of him, head turned to look out the window. He had been eerily quiet the past hour or so. Even when Zandale had tried to complain about needing a weekend, he had just hummed in response, not even looking over at you. You remembered hearing that he was in a sour mood from Bulletproof, but after your brief exchange earlier you thought maybe he was feeling better. Settling your gaze out on the blue horizon you replayed leaving.

Once the last guest had been corralled out by Gareth (very drunk and slurring about how they had seen Rex somewhere before), you had headed upstairs to grab your things. Zandale passed you, heading downwards while you were heading upwards.

“He’s up there.”

Your steps halted. “Okay?”

“Just saying.” He trudged down a few more steps before deciding the coast was clear enough to drift down the remaining about a foot in the air.

The first place you were going when you got back would be Rae’s room. You’d choke her out or- something, this was getting beyond tiring. But on the bright side, it helped you to feel less insane. Even though you and Rex kissed, you were finding it hard to wrap your head around the fact that he might have a real interest in you, after everything.

“You just can’t stay away for long, can you?” His voice sounded as soon as you crossed the entrance point of the bedroom. Shoving a few things in his suitcase he settled at the edge of the bed, placing his hands on his knees.

“That doesn’t even- I haven’t seen you since last night, well, basically since last night.” You gave him an incredulous look, which faded a few degrees as a smile fought to spread across your features.

“Oooh, so you do remember?” Rex had that familiar cocky smirk on his face, but it didn’t feel the same. You tilted your head, and he sucked on his teeth, wincing slightly. He’s nervous.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to.” You stepped past him, grabbing your bags in the corner, opening them to make sure all the contents were there.

“Wait, really?”

You sighed, a smile rippling across your face as you heard the bed creak from the loss of his weight. Turning, you’re met with him. He’s walked up behind you, and seems a little startled by your movement, but doesn’t say anything. “Yes?” You crane your neck to look up at him, taking a special note of how he has undone the top few buttons of his brunch suit. It had been accompanied by a bowtie, or it was supposed to. But judging by how he couldn’t assemble his tie yesterday, you figured he had just tossed the bowtie to the side this morning.

“I thought you said- well, I thought we’d talk.” It’s said with a boyishness that you didn’t think he was capable of. His hand had extended upwards to rub the back of his neck, only working to accent his sheepish look.

It made your stomach twist, but not only because he looked good, but because you had brought him to this point. It felt unreal. A few months and a bullet to the head and now his gaze that had been riddled with disgust and distrust had been replaced by blown pupils and a nervous tick. Cecil really should have rerun the brain scans, you had definitely broken something when healing him.

“We will. But-” You lower your voice a few octaves. “I’m pretty sure Gareth is outside the door waiting to kick us out, so I’m not sure now is the best time to unravel all of…well this.” You make a circular motion pointed at Rex.

“Why are you saying that like I’m the only thing involved? Why didn’t you gesture towards yourself-?”

“Oh, I have this by the way,” You cut him off, leaning back to grab a heap of fabric off the top of your bags. “It’s probably a little wrinkled, I completely forgot about it until I- well you know, uh, thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“I don’t care about the jacket, Joy, I-”

“It looked good on you. You should wear suits more often.” You extended the coat towards him, holding it out as still as you could. You weren’t sure why now it was all dawning in you, but it was. The sheer weight of the actions you had both taken and what they could mean. You could no longer deny that he felt anything at all, the residual flutterings of his hands in your hair told you perfectly well that he felt the tension at the very least. But did he view it the same way you did? Misery had practically shrouded every interaction you had with him even after starting to like him. You sought him out anyway, visited him at the hospital, analyzed his hands for far too long, and ignored the subtle tinges of jealousy pricking your insides as he mentioned Eve in passing stories. It was miserable having to watch him, and see him, not just at the hospital but in your dreams. You wanted him near you, for whatever reason now. But how could you really move forward with him in any meaningful way?

His mouth parted gently, shifting his weight from leg to leg, while his expression only conveyed uncertainty. This was real, and it scared you. No, it terrified you. You weren’t making snarky comments to another asshole on the team, you were talking to Rex Sloane. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to discuss it yet. You can’t make it real, because if it’s real-

You are a piece of shit.

How long can you really keep it all hidden? The lies on top of lies, not just to the Guardians, but to him. To the man you wanted nothing more than to grab by the shirt collar and bring him down to your level. He had come so far so quickly, even if he still had a way to go in certain aspects. There was true development happening and you could see it. Sure, you had gone through your own metamorphosis. But how much can you really compare the betterment and reach of your powers, versus the complete shift of how someone treats everyone around them?

You were becoming a good Guardian. You deserved the place you had; it was owed to you now. Rex was becoming a good person, and because of that, he was beginning to deserve more. More than the Guardians, and as much as you hated to admit it, he now might be deserving of better than you, too. Ironic how that kind of thing ends up working out.

“We should-” You start, squeezing the handle of one of your bags. Can you really outrun this now that it’s happened?

Do you really want to outrun it?

“Yeah…” He tongued the inside of his cheek, staring you down for a few moments more, before he turned swiftly. Grabbing his bags he heads to the door beside you, opening it so that you can go first.

For Pete’s sake.

“Please, come back any time.” Mune wished you all goodbye, after telling you more than once that you would all be properly compensated for your efforts. Not that you had much time to use the money you were earning. Her attention latched onto Rex, you could feel him stiffen next to you, and for some reason, you moved your hand so that your pinkie was brushing his. It had to be some form of narcissism to think that such a small, probably unwelcome, gesture would do anything. And it had to be even worse, since you weren’t even sure what you wanted to say to him, what was really going on between the two of you. “It was good to see you, Mr. Sloane.”

“Mune.” He nodded in a rigid fashion. If you had been looking at him, you would have seen how his eyes kept dropping to the side, sneaking glances at you in the least subtle way. His hand moved unnoticeably to brush just that much more against yours.

“Mr. Randolph.”

“Ma’am.” He nodded as well, already grabbing the handles of his bags.

“Merlin.” She moved to stand in front of you, expression instantly brightening.

“Mune.” You echoed, with a small smile of your own.

“Don’t forget about me over here, okay? And think about the opportunity. I’d love to have you on my crew.” She lowered her voice only a few octaves. Zandale, who was busying himself with leaving entirely missed it. Rex, who was standing directly next to you, unmoving, did not miss it.

“I won’t.” You affirm, with a small bow, which Mune was very amused by.

“What was that?” His voice was rough, almost accusatory, and a glance over at him only confirmed it.

“I think she likes me.” With a small wave to Mune who was now down the long hallway, you whispered your response, trying to hide your giddiness at the seemingly rare occurrence.

“Part of her crew?” The accusatory tone disappeared as quickly as it had revealed itself. Now replaced by the most level inflection you’d ever heard from him.

“Uh, yeah, she offered me a job.” You smiled at a few of the workers as you passed them on the way towards the plane, trying to walk as evenly as possible on the grass.

“And you’re going to take it?”

“No! I mean…no, right? I’ve spent so much time with the Guardians trying to earn my place; I can’t just go now.” Your eyes stayed focused on the ground before you. Both because you didn’t want to trip, but also because you weren’t sure you could bear to look at Rex at this very moment.

“Why not?” He sounds surprisingly genuine, life returning to his voice somewhat. “Do you think this would be more rewarding- or some shit, I don’t know. That just sounds like something someone smarter would say.”

You glance over at him and he’s looking ahead as well, squinting against the harsh rays of the sun resting in a cloudless sky. “I guess I’ll have to think about it.”

“It seems like a pretty sweet gig to me, but maybe I’m just focused on the fact there’s like 5 different kitchens.” He sneaks a glance back at you with a smile.

“I didn’t take the number of kitchens into account when considering, surprisingly enough. Guess I have a lot to ponder.” You chuckle but the feeling can’t seem to reach past your vocal cords. What did you want?

The flight passed incredibly slowly. Rex didn’t look back once, and Zandale somehow managed to sleep the entire time. Even though you were still exhausted from the night before you couldn’t manage to fall asleep. Your eyes always managed to end up directed towards where Rex was sitting. He was probably upset you hadn’t talked with him about what happened.

He seemed so temperamental recently, a moody teenager. You glanced back out the window, thinking back. Now that you were really considering it, he had been emotionally all over the place since you first left for the gala. Involving you in his argument with Bulletproof, then pointedly ignoring you once Bulletproof was asleep. Helping you with your dress, and dancing with you, admitting he wished you’d asked him to join, then not letting you heal him, giving you the silent treatment- A sigh forced itself from your lungs. You had been all over the place too though, too agitated, jumping into arguments. Where had your patience gone? You felt old, tired, stretched. You chuckled softly to yourself; you felt a little bit like a moody teenager too.

Have you overthought this? Maybe it wasn’t real. Just the intoxication of close proximity and complicated feelings. And maybe now you were thinking about the way he had raised his leg up to slot better between yours, his mouth moving hungrily over the column of your throat.

Would it really be possible to not talk about it? And, did you really not want to? Your sense of self seemed to fracture more and more every day, but could you so quickly decide that it would be the best for him if it went no further?

When you landed, and the three of you grabbed your things, you caught his eye for one single moment, which he used to make fun of how Zandale was holding his suitcase in a silent gesture. But once you were off the plane he just disappeared. You hadn’t exactly looked for him, but your short stroll through the headquarters on your way to your car was filled with you making unnecessary stops in rooms you definitely didn’t need to pass through.

Settling into the driver’s seat you let out a soft sigh, drumming your fingers over the steering wheel. You needed sleep, you had forgotten to eat anything at the brunch since you arrived so late, so you needed food too. More than both of those things, you needed to figure this out with someone who would hopefully be honest with you.

“I don’t see how this is all an issue.” Rae is sitting at the edge of her bed, using an elastic band to stretch muscles in her legs. Physical therapy was helping her to prepare herself to leave the hospital, but she still had a long way to go before she was field ready again.

You spun in the guest chair you were sitting in, muttering quietly to yourself. You had spilled as much as you could about the night and your doubts without telling the whole truth. How could you say, ‘I’m nervous to go any further because I’m lying to him, and to you, and everyone on the Guardians, and I don’t want it to bite me in the ass’, in the least incriminating way possible?

“I just- well what do you think I should do?”

“Go make out with him again?”

“Okay, you’re lucky I even told you about that after the shit you pulled.”

“That shit I pulled worked though at least.” She gave you a wink, switching the band to her other leg.

“Rae, be serious. How high are the possibilities this will work out or- or even be worth it?” You run both hands through your hair, staring off past her.

“Why wouldn’t it be worth it? If you guys break up, then you at least won’t be able to regret never trying.”

“Break up?” You practically squeaked. “I don’t even know if this means he wants to be with me or-”

“Ugh, this is so high school. Just ask him to prom, I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

You shot her a glare, scooting up higher in the chair. “We practically were just at prom.” You muttered, thinking about the ridiculous way his tie matched your dress.

“So, once again, what’s the issue?” Rae rolled her shoulder before continuing. “Listen. Rex is the type of guy to think you’ve been dating way longer than you really have. I heard that from Kate at least-”

“Kate-?”

“Chances are, he might already think you guys are something right now as it is.”

“You don’t really think that do you?” You practically felt your heart sink to the depths of your stomach.

“Well, he’s a little different now, I guess.” Rae tried to reason, noticing the horrified look on your face. “So maybe that’s not the case. But regardless, he surprisingly reads into things, even if he doesn’t seem like he has the brain capacity.”

You snickered with her and then immediately groaned. “This is such a mess.”

“What’s the real reason you’re so hesitant, hm?” Rae put the elastic down, leaning back on her hands. “There has to be more than, ‘he doesn’t think I’m capable’, and ‘what if I regret this’. There’s something bigger, isn’t there?”

You turn the chair slowly to fully face her. She has her head cocked to the side, finally wearing her glasses after you had dropped by her room at the headquarters to pick up her spare. She had been your one consistent, even when you left the team. You never felt unwelcome near her, and she had even in passing referred to you as her best friend. You’d been so caught up worried about Rex finding out, you hadn’t even considered what she might think. How it might ruin this one good thing you undoubtedly had.

Sitting up and placing your elbows on your knees you tightened your gaze towards her. “I want to tell you.” Soft. You were praying that Cecil wasn’t monitoring this room right now. You’d left your earpiece in the car when you came in, so if he was there was no way for you to hear him warning you.

Rae’s eyebrows lifted in mild surprise, like she hadn’t expected you to be genuine to her about this. For you to potentially be honest. It sent a pang of guilt through you. All these secrets. “Then tell me.” She doesn’t rush you, doesn’t let any form of impatience show as she waits for you to find your words.

“Can I trust you?”

“Is this your way of telling me I can’t tell Bulletproof?” She chuckled, but it died away when you didn’t laugh back. “Of course.”

“You can’t tell anyone. Not yet, I need more time.”

“Good lord, how bad can it be?”

You bit the inside of your lip; the moment you told her that was it. You can’t untell her, and you can’t untell the Guardians if she tells them. Cecil would probably keep you around, even if you weren’t a secret anymore, you could still be useful, but the Guardians would shun you. Much more than you already were. “Rex and Rudy were right. Kind of.” You blurt it out, cringing at it spilled past your lips.

Rae’s brows furrowed but she didn’t say anything, so you cautiously continued.

“I am hiding something, about my powers. I don’t just heal.” Your mouth felt dry.

“Okay…What else can you do?”

“I can manipulate blood cells, that’s how I am able to heal. They listen to me.”

“Okay?” It’s not clicking for Rae, a small smile spreading across her face.

“Can I show you?”

“I told you I didn’t want to be healed-”

“I’m not talking about healing you, Rae.”

She pauses, looking you up and down. “Okay, show me.”

You take a deep breath, extending your hand out towards her, and concentrate.

“What are you-?” She stops as her hand moves to grab the elastic band again, gripping it tightly. “Oh.”

You lower your own hand, and she continues for a bit to stare at her limb that just acted without her expressed will.

“So-”

“Yeah.” You interrupted, adrenaline at what you’d revealed catching up to you quickly.

“That’s…different.” She looked back over at you. “Why keep it a secret?” You can’t read her expression, unable to tell what she’s thinking you continue.

“It wasn’t my idea initially. Cecil thought it would be good to have in case…well with Chicago-”

“You can do that to Invincible?” Her brows tightened again, and you suddenly felt desperate to defend yourself.

“I don’t know for sure.” You admitted softly. “But maybe.”

“Do you know what this means-?” She says your name at the end of her statement, scooting forward a few inches more.

You shrugged, now not sure where she was going with this.

“You have that fainting shit when you overextend yourself right?”

“Yeah…?”

“I’m guessing doing what you just did consumes more energy than healing?”

“Yeah, a lot more.”

“You’ve been using it in battles, pretending you were just hitting people?”

“Wow, you’re really putting this all together fast-”

“Killdeer, if you build up your tolerance, you’ll be, well you’ll be really powerful.” Rae frowns, looking you up and down again.

“Well, my tolerance isn’t that high yet.” You tried to joke, thinking she was uncomfortable being near you now.

“No, listen.” She holds a hand up to quiet you. “This is dangerous. You need to make sure you’re listening to the right people. You can level governments with this type of power.”

“I think that’s a little dramatic.” You scoffed.

Rae continued over you. “If you’re the backup for Invincible, what’s the backup for you?”

You closed your mouth. This wasn’t something that had been entirely lost on you, but you’d never turn against Cecil or the Guardians. How much did it really matter? “I…I don’t know.”

Rae shifted. “I can see now why you’re nervous about Rex. But I’d be more nervous about Cecil.”

“Cecil?” You snorted. “Why would I worry about him if I’m not one of the bad guys?”

“I’d just be careful.” Rae reiterated, glancing off to the side. A few tense seconds passed before she turned back to you with a coy smile. “Does this mean you can give someone a boner at will?”

You sighed out the majority of your tensions, sliding further down the back of the chair. “I’m never visiting you again.”

“I have dirt on you now, you have no choice but to visit.”

I’m trying to be better.

The thought rang bitterly through Rex’s head as he stared out the airplane window. Small shivers travelled down his spine; he could practically feel her glances every few minutes. He wouldn’t look back. He couldn’t. There was too much to consider.

She had avoided talking about last night, which he was sure meant she wanted to pretend it didn’t happen. He knew it was too much too fast. She hadn’t wanted it, and like a dick, he couldn’t stop himself. Now she was going to leave.

Months spent tirelessly working with Rudy to try and piece together why she had to go. And then it had finally worked, and he had gone to her door, begging her to come back. Now she had another opportunity, and he couldn’t let himself do that again. He had to be better. Less selfish. He had been selfish his whole goddamn life. He wanted better than that for her.

If she wanted to work for Mune and have nothing to do with him, then he wasn’t going to make her feel bad about it.

But fuck if it didn’t fucking hurt.

Author's note: The next chapter won’t come out for a little bit as well because I’m working on a Cecil x Reader oneshot. It can stand alone, but it will also tie in with this a little bit, as it technically features Mune. It’s been referenced that this isn’t her real name because obviously her name is yours :3 (This also adds a weird level of inception cause Mune talks about Killdeer reminding her of ‘someone a long time ago’.) Let me know if you want to be tagged when I post that!! It’s going to take place over like 20 years, and have some good Donald content 💖

divider credit: @/ saradika

Chapter twenty-three

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spidernuggets · 29 days ago

Text

Crawling Back to You

Chapter twenty-one

Synopsis: A Viltrumite is headed towards earth

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Chapter: 21/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: Depictions of Violence, Short Graphic Memory

Note: I love Invincible, the whole show is so :3 but there are so many inconsistencies with things, like why Cecil was able to monitor that Allen was coming, but was blind sighted by Anissa, and the differences in speeds, like mark turning off the light while practically phasing through Amber’s arm in one episode. So I’m having fun trying to utilize/fix those plot holes a little.

Also very show dialogue heavy this chapter.

Cecil is debriefing you, at least you think he is. He’s talking quickly, gesturing at the sizable screen against the wall of the surveillance room. As much as your whole attention should be on whatever Earth’s newest threat is, your mind is only replaying what just happened between you and Rex. That happened, right? It wasn’t another embarrassing dream, that was real. You looked down at your arm and considered whether you should pinch it or not. Does that actually work? You never thought to do that when you’re actually in a dream, so you must be awake.

Fiddling absentmindedly with the teleportation wristband you glanced up at Cecil. The device dug lightly into your skin, leaving grooves when you pushed it to the side. What does this mean going forward? Would you really just be able to talk about it like adults? Seemed unlikely somehow.

“Sir, it just passed by close enough to get footage.”

“Then pull it up, Donald. Christ, what are you waiting for?” Cecil was more agitated than usual, leaning forward on his hands that were pressed against the desk in front of him.

A section of the screen was taken over by a large pop-up; slowed footage of the oncoming Viltrumite. It was a woman, wearing a grey and white suit. She had short dark hair and a steady sneer on her face.

“That’s not Omniman.” An obvious statement, said more to yourself than anyone in the room. You begrudgingly set Rex aside in your mind, finally focusing fully on the situation.

“Astute observation as always, Killdeer.” Cecil didn’t turn to look at you, his eyes closely analyzing the screen.

You shot him a sidelong look. “Shouldn’t you alert the Guardians, Invincible-” You tried to think of anyone else but drew only blanks, “Or…I don’t know, anyone else?”

“We need to see what she wants. If we respond to her appearance with every hero, guns blazing, that might only agitate the whole situation.”

“So, you’re going to wait and see if she decides to level a whole city? Like Chicago?”

“We don’t have much of a choice. This is how it is. You need all the facts before acting.”

You didn’t respond, turning your gaze back to the screen. You didn’t like it. It was leaving too much up to chance.

“Don’t worry, kid. We’ve got you.” Cecil gave you a small nod, it almost felt like he was trying to make you feel better. The statement only made your stomach twist harder, you felt that you had connected to Mark, you’d worked tirelessly with that godforsaken blood bag. But Mark was partially human, even if the Viltrumite DNA had worked meticulously to cleanse him in regards to any trace of genetic humanity. This person was likely full blooded. The pressure felt enormous. Digging into you, ripping at your skin. What if you couldn’t do it? What if you could, but it knocked you out in the process? That would leave everyone with a huge problem, and you, most likely, without a head.

“Coffee?” Donald’s standing next to you now, holding out an already assembled coffee.

“I feel like this is a little below your pay grade.” You gave him a small lopsided smile, but took it, regardless of whether you liked coffee or not, you weren’t about to leave him hanging.

“This isn’t one of my duties, I’m doing it because I can.” He gave you a small nod before turning to one of the agents in the room with you who had walked up to him with a tablet.

From the consistent feed flowing in on the screen, the furious typing coming from the different desks in the room, and the look on Cecil’s face, it was going to be a long night.

The minutes passed painfully slow. The GDA had immense access to just about every type of surveillance they could need, which meant, the first glimpse they had of the oncoming Viltrumite was at least a planet away. A countdown was clicking by, running off to the side of the visual display. Really adding to the feeling of impending doom.

You looked down at your second cup of bad coffee, running your thumb over the paper ridges that were starting to unfurl at the rim. Donald had brought your suit in for you to change into rather than your nightwear, which you appreciated. But changing made it all feel much more real. More serious. The adrenaline was dying away steadily now though, and your mind was starting to drift away again. A few times you opened your phone to message Rex, but you didn’t know what you’d say.

‘Hey, about the fact we made out an hour ago, what’s that about?’ putting your phone down with a sigh you tried to focus again on Cecil debriefing yet another group of people. In the time you had been here, it seemed like Cecil had spoken directly to upwards of forty people. That or you were awful at committing anyone to memory, and the same groups were coming through. Maybe a bit of both.

‘I’ve been really into you for a few weeks now, and I feel really stupid about it because you’ve been a complete and utter ass.’

Worse.

‘I want to do that again. Please.’

Delete his number at this point.

‘Hi.’

You typed it out, tapping the desk in front of you with your other hand. It was beyond late. He should be sleeping by now. Your body ached from an evening of fraternizing in heels, and everything in you wished you were in that bed right now rather than sitting in this office chair. Which had no lumbar support, by the way. The GDA can manufacture a whole hand for Rex but not afford semi-quality chairs?

Even if nothing had happened, and the two of you slept with that stupid pillow between you the whole night. You would be happy just to be near him. Hear his breathing slow as he drifted off to sleep. Maybe it was foolish to think that somehow, he would have had a more restful sleep near you, but you really wondered…

Hey.

Staring down at the screen your incessant tapping paused. He was still awake. You’re straightening up in your chair, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Shit, now what?

You weren’t sure what to say, how to say it. But somehow just his response seemed to relieve some sort of tension within you.

“Goddamn it-”

You looked up, dropping your phone on the desk. The overhead screen moments ago holding live footage of the oncoming threat, was now black. The foreboding countdown stopped at five minutes out.

“What happened?” You stood up swiftly, sending your chair a good foot away.

“She flew straight through our satellite.” Cecil was standing over the shoulder of a GDA agent, monitoring their screen.

“And what? Destroying one satellite makes her disappear?” You’re at his side in an instant trying to learn anything you can from the screen he’s looking at.

“It doesn’t make her disappear, no. But it causes a second delay in the relay with our other satellites. With the speed she was moving at it’s nearly impossible to catch up unless we know where she’s going.”

You look back up at the black screen, the large red timer to the side still frozen with minutes and seconds left over.

“She wouldn’t come here, would she?” Your mouth felt dry.

Cecil is quiet for a moment.

“Cecil, how likely is it she’ll come crashing through that wall?” You gesture with a harsh whisper towards the dark screen, your pulse quickening.

“I don’t know.” It’s surprisingly calm. “You know as much as me as to why she’s here. I don’t know the chances.”

“Because I really want to kiss you…”

It rings out over and over in Rex’s mind. He groans, pulling his hands up to cover his face. He had wanted to kiss her, that was one of the more honest things he had ever said to her. But it hadn’t truly displayed what he was feeling in that exact moment. It was thoughtless. Almost tasteless. After feuding for the better part of the evening he just, kissed her? Weeks of debating what to say, or if even to say anything and he just…didn’t.

Before he might have thought it was enough, he was never good at depicting how he felt. Several memories of evenings with Eve were resurfacing to further cement it.

“Why can’t you just be straight with me, Rex? Just this once.”

“I am being straight with you, what are you even talking about?”

“You knew him for years and you don’t want to go to his funeral? Fine, whatever, but at least talk to me about it. It’s obviously bothering you.”

He had shaken his head and laughed at her, eventually convincing her to let it go and move on to other things. That time in particular being the feeling of his hands trailing up under her shirt.

Sure, he had real conversations with Eve. He trusted her, and by now he had known her longer than anyone else in his life. But he avoided it like the plague, never gave anything up without a fight, or at least trying to shirk around the topic entirely. It was the cause of more than one disagreement, and something he hadn’t thought was a problem. Until this very moment, lying in bed, clutching one of the overly embroidered pillows to his chest.

He wanted to tell Killdeer. He didn’t want to just kiss her, he wanted to let her in.

How do you do that though? Let someone in, show them the ugliness?

Right about now she’d probably say, “I think I’ve already seen the ugliness, Rex.” And laugh. The same fucking laugh he had been forced to hear in the distance all night long. Talking to some phony, uppity, prat no doubt. Every time he caught the sound of it, he’d lose his train of thought and have to ask whatever phony, uppity, prat he was talking to, what they had been discussing. It was torture.

And that wasn’t even entailing how he had felt seeing her walk down the aisle of the plane, silk flowing tastefully down from her collar. His fingers suddenly felt numb, useless as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. With less than agile accuracy he ran through the remaining buttons and moved to put back his shoe box. She had laughed at him then as well, chastising him over the haphazard fashion in which he had made his way through dressing.

He wanted to tell her that it was her fault. Explain that he couldn’t think half the time when she was around, but it was even worse now with her in that dress. He wanted to tell her he thought she looked beautiful, not just beautiful though, something more. Ethereal, maybe. Tell her he was sorry, again, but better this time. He wanted to ask her about the books on her shelf in her apartment, more specifically the tattered chapter book. He wanted to ask her if she regretted not going to the man’s funeral who she learned how to tie a tie for. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t sure if he regretted not going to the director’s funeral. He wanted her to ask about his past, and then in turn tell her. Explain why he struggled to talk about the director, everything.

And then, the overhead speaker announced there were only five minutes until arrival. Far too short to say any of that. At least that’s what he told himself.

The seconds turned into minutes, and still none of Cecil’s methods seemed to locate her again. Instead of your dread lessening like before, it only got worse. The longer no one could find her the more you felt your panic rising. Even if you could stop her, it wouldn’t matter if she flew straight through you before you even saw her.

“Mark?” Cecil’s voice shattered the tense silence in the room, his hand raising to the comm in his ear. “Mark- calm down, what is it?”

The tension inside you was stretching to a breaking point, you needed to do something. You hadn’t felt this exact feeling since you had practiced with Rex. An acute awareness of everyone around you. Your innate connection to them, the ease with which you could overpower every single one of them, even if not for long.

What an odd thought.

“Okay- yes, I hear you, just- Mark.” Cecil’s tone is overly controlled; he’s already gesturing to the worker in front of him. The former dark screen flashes to life, cycling through different satellites and security cameras, slowly honing in.

Didn’t you hear me? I said I only wished to speak.

That hasn’t been my experience with Viltrumites so far.

The angle finally centers, audio crackling to life for the whole room to hear. The woman is floating ahead of Mark, her back to him, arms clasped behind her. They are above a city, lights shining through the night sky.

“Where are they?”

Cecil doesn’t respond.

“Cecil, where are they? Send me in!”

“They’re in the fucking sky, how are you going to be able to reach them, hm?” Cecil snaps, his gaze not leaving the screen.

This was fucking torture, you needed to be of use. Scared or not, this was your duty.

The woman scoffed, turning fully away from Mark.

How little you know of your own people.

They’re not my people.

“We cannot let this become another Chicago, people. Get me everything that you can on her.” A silly notion, she was an alien from outer-fucking-space. They didn’t have anything on her and you knew it. Or else you wouldn’t have been waiting for over an hour watching her.

Oh, we are your people. You simply do not accept it yet.

“We’re doing everything we can in case this turns ugly, Mark, but we don’t have a lot of good options.” He glances over at you, his hand pressed up to the comm again. “Keep her talking as long as you can.”

What do you want?

Mark says without a single missed beat.

We’ve studied this planet.

Good for you.

You stared numbly at the screen. Mark was instigating. Now is not the time to fucking instigate.

Human civilization has less than an eighteen percent chance of surviving the next two centuries without the loss of billions of lives.

Is that a threat?

Goddamn it, Mark.

“Goddamn it, Mark.” Cecil hissed out your internal monologue, turning to Donald. “What do we have?”

“We’re gathering all of our resources but it’s not looking good. Hail Mary had Omniman on the ropes but-” Donald shook his head, creasing his brows, “unfortunately Mark helped kill her, so she’s no longer an option.”

“Christ.” Cecil turned his gaze back to the screen, his knuckles white from clenching the back of a seat.

That is the truth. The powerful of this world destroy their own home. Strip resources for themselves. Large areas of this planet will soon be uninhabitable due to human greed.

Yeah, I know.

Yet here you are, hands in fists, worried about stopping me instead of stopping them.

It’s complicated.

No, it isn’t. We have the technology to repair their climate. Feed their hungry, punish their criminals. We will save more of their lives in a single year than you could in a hundred. You are failing this planet and its people.

At least I don’t kill.

Is this how people saw you when you stumbled over trying to lie about the extent of your powers? If so you needed to get better quickly, this was borderline painful.

Yet, you let thousands die every day you resist Viltrumite rule. Or do those human lives not matter to you?

“Based on bone and muscle density scans, the simulations give Mark a less than eighteen-percent chance of surviving a combat encounter with her.” Donald’s hands are clasped on the edges of the keyboard in front of him. You suppose there was a way he could gather more information on her then.

“Ah. Well, isn’t that poetic?” Cecil pulls up live footage on a small screen in front of him. A man you don’t recognize is dressed in a lab coat, a ReAniman is sprawled out on a metal table behind him.

Cecil, I’m in the middle of-

“How many of my new ReAnimen are ready for the field, right now?”

The field? I-I don’t-

“Answer the goddamn question, Sinclair.”

None! None are ready for the field. We agreed on a schedule, and it-

Cecil pressed his hand to the screen, effectively hanging up.

“I don’t see how you could get any of those any higher in the air than you could get me.” You breathed it out, intentional snark, but you hadn’t fully intended for Cecil to hear you.

He shot you a glare, opening his mouth-

“Sir,”

“What?”

“Satellites are picking up a behemoth-class kaiju. South Pacific. Closing fast on a passenger cruise liner.”

“Shit.” He drawled out.

Viltrumites do not kill for pleasure, even if they sometimes take pleasure in killing. Dead humans do not benefit us in any way.

“Let’s see if she means that. There’s a cruise ship about to get eaten a few thousand miles southwest from you. Tell her you need to save those humans she loves so much.” Cecil lowers his hand with a sigh. “What are our other options, Donald, come on.”

“Sir…”

“There are no other options, Cecil, I don’t understand.” You take a few steps away, running a hand through your hair. “You brought me here as backup, but the time for backup is now, why aren’t you using me?”

“There’s a delicate balance to this all kid. Sending you in means you’re not a secret anymore.”

“Who cares?” You exclaimed; it was a bit louder than you intended. “People could die; Mark could die! There’s no reason for me to be the last thing between Mark and the potential of following his father’s legacy, if there’s no Mark left to be on guard against!” You gesture in a futile fashion at the screen. It now portrayed the two of them battling a giant sea monster. “And what’s the point of not encouraging the fact that as of right now he is good? How are we nurturing that side of him by valuing a secret more than his fucking life?”

Cecil once again opened his mouth to respond, but was distracted by the screen. Anissa had practically phased through the creature’s head, taking it out instantly. Gallons upon gallons of blood turned the water surrounding the cruise scarlet.

“Well, that’s one way to do it.” Cecil sighed into the comm.

“Hail Mary wouldn’t have done us much good anyway, it seems.” Donald commented.

The ship slanted and began to sink, most likely from the damage the behemoth had left behind. Cecil looked over one of the GDA agents’ screens again and instructed Mark where the closest landmass was. Once the ship was safely on land, Mark and Anissa stood on a beach. Level with the ground for the first time since they’d seen her coming.

“Send me in. Now Cecil.” You clenched your fists, stepping up to him.

“Did you not see what I just saw?” He held his hand outstretched to the screen. “She ran through that thing’s brains in a fuckin’ millisecond. I can’t just put you out there without a thought, we need to be careful-”

“I only need a millisecond, Cecil!”

“Kid.” He said in a warning tone, his eyes narrowing.

I think you should go now.

You both turned back to the screen, Mark was in a defensive stance, which contrasted strongly with the tight upright position Anissa had been in since her arrival.

“Careful, Mark. She’s a lot stronger than you.”

Remember that we started with reason.

In an instant she’s on him, sending him flying upwards, both of them in the air again.

Goddamn it. If Cecil had just sent you in, you could have stopped this. Your fingers clenched tight against the wristband, as if you could will the object to transport you at this moment. A brief period passes where the two are moving so fast that the cameras couldn’t locate either of them. Empty images of the sky and sea flash by. It’s eerily quiet besides the sounds of Mark’s injured groans over the comms. You can hear the wind rushing by him, and the sound of her punches making impact. It’s all cut off by the rush of water, the camera’s finally catch up to reveal Anissa, floating stagnantly over the water, looking out.

You can see the water ripple softly before Mark surges out of it, heading towards Anissa’s back, only for her to send him flying again. This time, through the side of the cruise boat.

“The Guardians could be on their way but regardless of when we inform them, their ETA would still be twenty-two minutes later. Backup hero teams are standing by, but…”

“It’d be like feeding them to wolves. What else?” Cecil directs his attention to Donald, seemingly ignoring you.

“One carrier group with a boomer and twenty fighters, three orbital gravity weapons, two long-range Q-bombers, but she moves too fast.” Donald glances over at you. “Quicker than Nolan even. They could be a thousand miles away before we even get there.”

“One goddamn Viltrumite all by her lonesome and we’re fucking useless.”

“Sir, there’s… another option.”

Yeah, there’s another fucking option, put me in!

Anissa is back on land again, standing near Invincible. It would be easy, well, it’d be easy maybe. But you had to try, or what was the point of these months of training?

“Mark, listen to me. Say you’ll do it.” What? You felt your face settling into a scowl as Cecil spoke through his earpiece. “Say, ‘fine, I’ll take over the planet.’ You can’t beat her, kid. Say it. Get her to leave, and we’ll get ready for these assholes together.”

No.

It’s rasped out, his voice coming out crackly over the speakers.

“Kid…” Cecil furrows his brow, and you’re stepping forward, grabbing his arm.

“Now, Cecil! Goddamn it, why are you waiting?” You feel helpless, trapped within this conference room. The smallest of voices in your head speaks to you. Tells you something you know but you don’t want to acknowledge. You could make Cecil put you in. How easy would it be? A headache for an hour? Breached trust for a lifetime? Your lips curl into a frown as you consider it, but a loud crash from the audio output tells you they aren’t on the ground anymore.

They’re flying through the air once again, you would say they were fighting, but that would require Mark to actually be doing anything. Anissa wasn’t letting him get a single hit in, every single one of her jabs was meeting its mark. Next, they’re diving so fast that the camera once again can hardly keep up until-

A crack sounds over the speakers, loud enough to make everyone cringe. A few workers put their hands up to their ears, hoping to rub away the assault. The dust displayed on the monitors steadily clears to reveal a huge crater. Anissa and Mark are both at the dead center of it.

This is your last chance to show me you can learn.

She’s crushing Mark’s throat beneath her foot, shoving him deeper into the ground. The earth is crackling around him, accepting him easily. A grave.

“Just say the goddam words, Mark.” Your eyes are on the screen, hand still clenched around Cecil’s wrist as he speaks into the mic again. It’s a horrifying sight, the way she dug her sole into his throat. The choked gurgles.

You’d spent so long idolizing him, believing in him. And he was about to die before your eyes.

His hands that had been gripping at her ankle loosened, dropping back against the ground, a surrendering gesture.

Do it.

“Cecil…” You felt like a broken record, all the anger dropping from your tone and replaced with begging.

Either you need me, or you don’t. Make up your mind.

She grunts, shoving him further down. The earth groans around his head, extremely audible over his comm.

“Cecil, please-” You can see even from how far away the visual is the way that Mark’s hand is twitching. In a few seconds he’ll be gone-

And then- Anissa steps off of him. He gasps for breath, coughs rattling through his body.

“Fine. You’re going in, but I’m not putting you right there. You need to come from the side, make sure she doesn’t fucking see you.” Cecil’s eyes are drilling into you, his expression stone-cold serious. “Don’t be stupid about this.”

“I won’t.” You nod furiously, glancing over at the screen. Anissa is saying something, but you aren’t paying attention, your eyes are glued to Cecil’s. Your grip on his arm loosens and he’s gone.

You knew they had crossed time zones, gone somewhere it was daytime, but god if it didn’t hurt. Cecil was barking directional orders at you, which you followed blindly. Sprinting as hard as you could while trying to will your eyes to adjust, your lungs felt like they might burst by the time you finally saw the edges of the crater.

A blur of white shot out overhead, sending a burst of air towards you, knocking you back. With a groan you force yourself to move forwards again, padding lightly over the ground. You could have been sound asleep right now. The thought settled bitter in your mind as you reached the edge and looked down.

Mark was sprawled out on his back trying to catch his breath. If Anissa was gone, should you even go down? It would surely be suspicious you were there, right? And with how deep the sides were, you weren’t entirely sure how you’d even get down. While you’re debating a familiar electrical crackling settles over your ears, and in the same breath, you’re only a few feet away from Mark, Cecil by your side.

“You really rolled the dice on that one, Mark. All over a few words.”

“It’s more than just words.” Mark looks defeated. Nursing a black eye and a bloodied nose, he’s hunched over his knees.

Cecil glances over at you, considering, before he steps forward to offer Mark a hand up.

“She was strong.” Mark grunts out while raising up to a standing position. “I’m not sure I could stop her if she started killing people.” He notices you now, his gaze tightens almost unnoticeably, but he doesn’t comment on it. At least not yet.

“Well, we’re gonna figure out a way to change that. But those nights off you wanted? I’m afraid that’s a thing of the past.”

“Yeah…” Mark looks off in the distance, deep in thought.

“You took a hell of a beating. Killdeer can help patch you up, if you want.”

You nodded absentmindedly, only partially listening to the conversation. Now that the immediate threat was gone your mind was swirling. You felt useless. This one time you could have helped, the only person who could have. And Cecil hadn’t put you in. Anissa was gone now, but what if she hadn’t decided to let Mark go? He’d be dead, and they’d be standing around his body now.

No one trusted your competence. Not Rex. Not even Cecil. It was like acid on your tongue, resentment starting to build off of you. You were a glorified fucking nurse.

The darkness of the room enveloped you. Besides the constant ticking of a timepiece on the mantle, it was dead silent. After standing for a bit, letting your eyes adjust to the pitch black, you were able to make out another sound. Soft inhales, gentle exhales, shallow breathing. The minuscule light from over the curtains illuminated the room just enough that you could get around without tripping over the furniture. Making your way to the bathroom, you settled down the new bag Donald had sent you with that contained clothes for the brunch. If you are lucky, you could get a good five hours of sleep in before the final leg of your mission.

Slipping out of your suit and back into your nightwear you exited the bathroom. For the briefest of moments, you considered sleeping on one of the couches. Getting into bed could wake Rex. Trailing your hand over the upholstery, his words from earlier echo through your mind.

“Do I really repulse you that badly?”

With a sigh, you approached the bed. He was on his side, facing inwards. One of his hands rested over your side, while his other arm underneath him clutched the pillow you had put between you earlier. Not exactly the Great Wall of China in barrier terms. It made you smile. With as sour as you were feeling, it was nice to see him peaceful. At ease. His brow was relaxed. Even when he was sleeping, he somehow maintained the smallest semblance of that familiar asshole smirk.

You pulled your side of the blanket down, smoothing out the sheet beneath it with your fingertips. Your hand brushed against his as you gently pushed it closer to him so you could lie down. His hand twitched subtly but he didn’t stir. Settling into the bed, you stared at the ceiling for a moment, replaying over and over how you had begged Cecil to let you help. You ran through scenario after scenario, asking yourself how you could have reworded it to make him listen. But even in the freedom of your imagination it all ended the same, nothing you could have said would have changed anything. In the end, there was always one consistent factor; you. And nothing you said could change that truth.

Rex shifted in his sleep beside you, his hand that was originally settled where you were supposed to be, stretching out again, catching softly on your arm. He didn’t grab you, nor did he pull it back. His digits just rested against your skin, not at all registering that you were there.

Even without him knowing or intending it. You managed to turn your mind to the gentle touch, close your eyes, and drift to sleep.

It had been almost two weeks since you relived your museum mission in your dreams. Somehow knowing what had happened, and that it was real, seemed to put you at ease. You still felt immense guilt, and before going to your shifts at the hospital you would stop by his memorial to make sure there were fresh flowers. Donald’s explanation about self-preservation had somewhat put you at ease too, after all, you were shot and going down. If he had posed a real threat, you wouldn’t have thought twice about taking him down. But killing him?

It had been almost two weeks. Now you were waking up with a cold sweat, gasping out breaths, as tears pricked at the edges of your vision. Every time you had it you seemed to notice more details. The way his face turned purple, bruising beneath the skin as all of his blood rushed forwards. How in seconds, droplets started to leak from the very pores of his face. The feeling of impatience and pulling the remainder out through his chest. The way it scored over the painting, a Jackson Pollock of your own design.

Soft daylight spread through the room, illuminating it in columns. You tried to focus on anything else to shake off the adrenaline left over from the nightmare. The clock quietly ticks away on the mantle. The golden etches on the ceiling. The red furnishing on the couches- The empty space next to you on the bed.

Where’s Rex?

Creaking grabs your attention as the door cracks open, revealing a familiar face from the night before.

“Ah, good. You’re awake. Director Stedman alerted Madam Mune of your night excursion, so she instructed me to let you sleep in. The brunch has just started. Mr. Sloane and Mr. Randalph are already downstairs. Please get dressed and I will walk you down.” Gareth’s head disappeared behind the door again before you could respond.

Right. The brunch.

Today, what you were wearing was much less elegant, but still formal. Most of all, you were glad to have pants. As beautiful as that dress had been, you missed pockets. After forcing yourself out of bed and into your current clothes, you leave the room, letting Gareth lead you downstairs. A part of you expected to end up back in the ballroom, but instead, he led you outside into the garden.

The cocktail tables that littered the stone patio the previous night had disappeared. A bar had been put together near the glass doors of the ballroom, decorated with soft pastels. Why anyone needed to drink at noon you couldn’t say. But you figured it most likely was a way for Mune to talk people out of their money more easily. Wooden tables were sprawled out in rows on the grass, surrounded by matching wooden chairs. The tables were all set with dishware, and alternating colored napkins. From the looks of everyone’s plates, the event had started at least an hour ago. Some people were sitting, others were standing and talking, while the remainder strolled around the different branches of the gardens. You caught the eye of Mune who had gathered a large crowd around her, she didn’t wave, or smile, but gave the slightest, tilted, bow in your direction.

A man in a dark crimson coat stood next to her, Lance, you realized. He blended in surprisingly well. If you didn’t know his position you’d think he was just another guest. Gareth tapped your arm sharply, and when you looked over, he pushed a small object into your hand. You nodded, and with that he was gone, mingling in with the crowd. Turning your head, you pretended to adjust your hair, slipping the earpiece in. Back to work.

This event was much more lax than the dance, people were talking to you in passing, mentioning how they remembered seeing you, or your dress, or asking you how you knew Mune. A few asked which oil companies your family had been involved with, which had you saying you saw someone waving you over- oh you didn’t see them? They were just over- and then walking away. You should probably be taking this all much more seriously, but with the level of exhaustion you were trying to function with you could hardly be bothered. What were the odds that someone would try something less than twenty-four hours after the last attempt?

“You look like you slept like shit.” Zandale slid in next to you as you stood at the bar. Your previous sentiments about not needing to drink this early in the day was long forgotten after the last person asked you to explain in heavy detail how oil was really collected.

“I did.” You muttered, sipping on a mimosa that tasted suspiciously like plain old orange juice.

“Damn, I figured Rex would get more palatable after getting some, but I guess not-”

You choked at that, a burning sensation traveling up your throat as you coughed. “What?” You huffed it out between coughs, waving off the bartender who approached to check on you.

“Rex. He’s somehow more insufferable than usual. Well at least for the new and improved Rex.” He made air quotes as he spoke.

“Oh god, Zandale. Are you joking?” You sputtered out a few extra coughs, squinting at him.

“You just said-”

“I said I slept like shit. Nothing else.” You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t even get to sleep there most of the night.”

“Why?” Confusion is shown clear in his tone if nothing else.

“Cecil needed me for a patient at the hospital.” You paused for a moment. Mark had seen you, and he worked closely with the Guardians. If you weren’t careful, you’d be eating your words, and eating them soon. “There was a situation with Invincible, I was brought in to heal him. Didn’t get back until sometime around four or five this morning.” Vague enough that details could be explained away, but direct enough that he wouldn’t want to inquire further.

“Are you kidding me?” Zandale sighed heavily, gesturing for the bartender to come back and give him a drink.

“What?”

“I just lost another fucking twenty to Rae.” He responded bitterly.

“What?” You scoffed. “First of all, you never seem to win in bets with her why do you keep making them? Second, what was it?”

He grumbled nondescriptly.

“You brought it up, man.”

“Fine. God. I bet that you guys would get together last night. But judging from Rex’s sour mood, and you not even being on the premises, I was wrong.” His lips curled downwards at the realization that Rae was once again going to laugh in his face.

“Why on earth are you both so interested in this? Don’t you have literally anything better to do?”

“Eh, don’t take it personally, we’ve been betting on shit for ages. My last big win was that Shapesmith was an alien.”

“How much did you win that time?”

He hummed softly, a small smile crossing his face. “Next question.”

“Five bucks, huh?” You laughed, finishing off your glass.

“Well, something like that.”

The brunch was passing without a hitch. Boring conversations shrouded by constantly looking out for one, particular, face. But as the afternoon passed you didn’t even see him in the passing crowds. Once or twice, you thought you had, just for the person to turn around, revealing a total stranger. You rejoined with Zandale a few times, making comments about guests who you suspected were cheating on their spouses with other guests. One of you even caught two of them trying to sneak off and were offered a bribe. Which you ended up declining and then wondered why on earth you just declined that large a sum of money.

The receivers were dead silent up until the end when Lance announced to his crew that it would be time to start herding the guests out in half an hour. Conversations were lulling, Mune had already left the event entirely a few minutes ago, declaring that everyone must come again in a few months. It was peaceful almost.

A soft breeze was licking at your arms, shifting your hair faintly. It kept you cool underneath harsh unforgiving rays. Lance had tasked you with circling the perimeter of the garden, acting as a sheepdog, and pulling the remaining guests to the center. At one point you end up taking off your shoes. Heels weren’t the most efficient choice for grassy terrain. It’s soft and lush beneath you. The travelling wind sets off a few chimes that are hanging loosely from trees nearby. For the briefest of moments, you’re there.

That secret place you’ve always dreamt of. A countryside home. Every gentle breeze sends a tingle down your spine. A tin roof, windchimes, wildflowers, a fireplace. Maybe there is a little gazebo behind the house. You aren’t alone.

Stepping out of the gardens, you take a final look behind you, anyone you had passed you’d informed that the event was coming to a close, but a few stragglers were still following behind. A dull buzzing pulled your attention away. You had to be sure to send Donald your thanks to whoever chose your outfit for the brunch. It really was nice to have pockets again. Pulling it out, you shift your attention from the people passing you and heading towards the center of the open plain. Cecil must have found something more out, messaged you the new plan-

Hi.

You bit the inside of your cheek and looked up. Quickly, you scanned through the crowd of people, pastels and atrocious hats, until your gaze caught on a familiar ginger hue. Rex was standing with his elbow propped on the edge of the bar, a person was talking to him, but his eyes were on you. He was a little far off but you could still make out an almost boyish grin that was spread across his features, it only widened as you finally met his line of sight.

‘Hey.’ You texted back, looking up again to give him a small wave, which he returned gently, with a slight tilt of his head.

Author's note: Dreams normally only last 5-45 minutes, so Killdeer didn’t have a nightmare until after Rex left the bed 😛 Which could mean nothing!!

Also yes, I do giggle to myself when I make references to insignificant details from other chapters, why do you ask?? I LOVE CALL BACKS

divider credit: @/ saradika

Chapter twenty-two

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spidernuggets · 2 months ago

Text

WAAHAHAHAHAHAVAV IT HAPPENED IT HAPPENED IT HAPPENED

Crawling Back to You

Chapter twenty

Synopsis: You, Rex and Bulletproof are expected to share a room together for the night.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 7.2k

Chapter: 20/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: None

Note: W*rk is kicking my ass, thank you all for being so patient! Happy 100k!!

“No way in hell am I sleeping on one of those couches.” Zandale pulls his bag over to the bed.

“I mean they look nice at least, right?” You say it more to comfort yourself than the other two standing in the very over-the-top guest room with you.

“Sure, it looks nice, it doesn’t look comfortable.” He sits down at its edge, giving a few gentle pets to test out the firmness of the mattress. “For having so much money, I’m a little disappointed.”

“Why would she be worried about the guest beds? She probably sleeps on a giant brick of gold or something.” You took the chance to sit down on the couch you were standing in front of. It wasn’t bad, but you could tell it was not going to be anywhere near restful.

Rex remained almost eerily silent, the only proof of his presence was the sound of the wood creaking lightly as he laid back on the other couch, testing it out himself.

Bulletproof was slipping off his suit jacket, tossing it haphazardly behind him on the bed. Lying back, he pulled out his phone, responding to whoever the guy had to respond to. Now that you thought about it, what does he do outside of being a Guardian? Maybe nothing?

It was interesting to you how much being a Guardian seemed to fully encapsulate some of the other members’ identities. After begging for an hour, Donald had let you look over the files of the old Guardians, you had claimed to want to learn, and that was partially true. But you were also just really curious. For your whole childhood, they had been the team. Everyone knew their names, everyone had a favorite, and everyone trusted that they would be there.

From their files, a lot of the old team seemed to have full lives outside of their work. War Woman was a high-up executive in a company she had helped build from the ground up. Green Ghost had been a photographer, even Aquarus had been the literal king of Atlantis. Most of them had spouses, or people they were dating, they had whole lives. With the brutal killing of all the former members, it was hard to remember it had been different before.

Even when trying to make small talk with the patients at the hospital, you noticed it. Hardly anyone on the outside seemed interested in familiarizing themselves with the new team. A few people had said things to the tune of “Oh yeah, wasn’t that guy on the original team?” or “I thought he died?”. To the world, the Guardians were no longer a phenomenon. They weren’t indestructible or untouchable, they definitely weren’t invincible. They were dead. A new group to replace them didn’t overshadow the shock that followed the initial announcement of the massacre.

Robot’s or Immortal’s, whoever’s team, didn’t come across as united, and from the inside it didn’t feel that way either. The team was capable, sure. But you still wondered how fulfilled the other members were truly feeling.

After a few more minutes of comments on the room you began to eye the guest bathroom residing in the corner of the room, to the left of the bed. Unless you are content with sleeping in your dress you should probably get changed, maybe even shower. It had been a long night. Lifting the small suitcase, you unzipped it open, trailing a hand over the nightwear you had brought. It was…fine. Mismatched, cozy, reliable. But you had originally been under the impression you would have your own room. If you had known differently, would you have brought something else? Eh, probably not. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you remember something that had proved to be a hindrance earlier. You’ll need help unzipping your dress.

There were few things you could think of off the top of your head that you’d rather do less at this exact moment than ask Rex to help again. So, onto the next best choice. After standing, and purposely avoiding looking at the other couch, you loitered near Zandale, who was practically ripping through his duffle bag. Surprisingly well-packed for a two-day mission.

“Can you help me really quick?”

He threw a shirt down at the bag, frustration clearly rising. “Stupid mission, with a stupid dance, stupid beds-”

You leaned back on your heels, trying to wait patiently, but the longer you stood watching him pull out somehow yet another graphic tee, the less easy it was to be patient. “Hello-?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?”

“I forgot it.” He sighed.

“It? What it? You have like fifty thousand shirts in there, man.” You leaned forward to look into the contents of the bag, but he was already zipping it up. He let out a groan, resting his elbows on his knees while staring past you.

What on earth is he going on about-?

No.

Nope.

He’s not about to do this.

“Who were you texting, Zandale?” You squint, watching a small smile ghost over his expression that disappears just as soon as it arrives.

He clears his throat, standing up. “I forgot my shirt.”

There’s a pause as you look down at his now-closed duffle bag that contained at least five different shirts.

“Really?” You respond dryly.

“Yeah, there’s a specific one I sleep in, well, you know how it is.”

“No, I don’t know how it is, Zandale. Just wear one of those.” You gesture down to the bag with a tense hand.

He hums, looking down at it before glancing back up. “Those are too cottony-”

“What?” You watch as he bites the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling.

“And the bed feels like shit. So, I was sitting here, quietly lamenting how awful my night would be, in a cotton shirt on an uncomfortable bed, and it hit me. I can leave.” No. “I can actually be home, and in my own bed, before you’re even ready for bed.” No fucking way.

“Why do you even need to wear a shirt to go to bed, Zandale?” You shake your head, pressing two fingers to your temple, then lowering your voice, hopefully to a tone Rex couldn’t overhear. “Was it Rae? You were texting Rae, weren’t you?”

He ignores you and continues. “It has been absolutely lovely spending a whole evening with you two, but I’m actually good-”

“Zandale-”

“I’ll be sure to be back on time in the morning-”

“Zandale, no-”

“I could technically take one of you with me, but that would add travel time, and I’m absolutely beat-”

‘Please don’t.’ You mouth it at Zandale, narrowing your eyes at him, with the subtlest shake of the head. As frustrated as you were right now with him and Rae, who most likely was putting him up to it, you were somewhat more frustrated that Rex was saying absolutely nothing.

Bulletproof gives you a pout and slowly walks up to you, putting up an act like he’s really considering. He stands directly before you, puts his hand out on your shoulder, and- “Yeah no, every man for themselves.”

“Dick.”

“Thank me later.” Dick!

You had almost expected him to grab his things, open a window, and fly away. Instead, he picked his bags up, put them neatly in a corner, and rather anticlimactically left out the main door. Leaving you alone with Rex who was positioned away from you. One of his arms folded neatly underneath his head, the one on his injured side resting on his lower stomach. It was probably the only way he could lie without pulling at whatever stitches he now had.

A pang of guilt washed over you. Guilt that he got hurt, that he came along on this mission. Guilt that you hadn’t healed him. Which was quickly replaced by the annoyance that he didn’t allow you to heal him. And that annoyance was even quicker replaced by more annoyance that Zandale had really just bailed. And he had done so without even helping you with what you had originally gone to ask him for help with.

Rex finally looked over at you, meeting your gaze. You threw your hands up in exasperation, a silent, ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

“What?”

“Oh my god.” You groaned, grabbing your bag and heading to the bathroom.

You tried a few times to reach your zipper on your own, even considering pulling it over your head. After a few failed attempts, and the sound of threads buckling, you finally decided to call it quits. Leaning against the bathroom counter, you pressed on the first contact in your phone, selecting to call. Simply messaging her would take longer than you wanted.

“Hello?”

“You did this, didn’t you?” You hissed it out, your voice low as you turned on the sink to drown out your words.

“Don’t worry about thanking me or whatever, drinks are on you next time I’m over.”

“I’m not thanking you, Rae! This is extremely inconvenient!”

“It’s inconvenient to be alone in a room for the night with a guy you’ve been drooling over?” The sarcasm drips in her tone, even through the distortion of the call itself.

“How did you even know we were all going to be in a room together? I didn’t even know that!”

“Zandale owes me money because you two apparently danced tonight-”

“God, not a semblance of discretion on this whole fucking team-” You sighed, clicking your nails against the marble countertop.

“Anyways,” She cut in loudly, “He told me about the room situation, and I told him he wouldn’t owe me if he left the room. He was complaining about being stuck between you two eye-fucking each other anyways so-”

“Rae!” You put a hand over your face, you knew that Bulletproof had been someone clued into your feelings, but to know he had been observing made it much worse. “Rae, I love you, you’re wonderful, amazing, beautiful, everything, you just royally fucked me on this.”

“Hopefully I’m not the only one getting to fuck you-”

“Rae, oh my god, can you just listen?”

She snickered but didn’t speak over you.

How exactly do you explain that you are quite angry with Rex right now without going into way too much detail? “He’s…well, he’s an asshole.”

“You already knew this, babe. Have fun!”

“Wait, Rae, seriously-” And… she’s gone.

After staring at your reflection for a few moments, and having a mental crash-out, you prepared for bed to the best of your ability while still wearing the dress.

“Have fun talking on the phone?” Rex sounded as you left the restroom, he was facing towards the door, now sitting up on the couch. His tie was loosened, and the top of his dress shirt was unbuttoned.

You gave him an unimpressed look, but you could still feel your face heating up. “Yes, thank you.”

“I wouldn’t have listened in.”

“Yeah, sure.” You roll your eyes with a sigh, dropping your stuff next to the bed. Maybe you should offer it to him, he was shot after all. You turn to him again, opening your mouth to offer it, and-

“Are you going to bed wearing that?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “And what about it, Rex?”

His eyes ran over you, a semi-confused expression dusting his features. “Why-” He paused. “Do you need help?”

“Your help?”

“Yeah, I’m the only one here aren’t I?”

“Then no.”

“Are you fucking serious, Joy?”

“Yes, thank you.” You were already pulling back the duvet and sliding under the comforter. It was almost immediately uncomfortable. But at this point, you weren’t about to give in and ask him. As good as he looked sitting on the couch, with his arms slotted over his knees, and his tie hanging loose, you were still angry with him.

It’s quiet for a minute or two, the lights are all still on, so all you can do is lay with your eyes closed, hoping morning will come quick. Eventually, you hear the shuffling of Rex grabbing his things to go to the restroom, the door closes, and you hear the shower turn on.

With stitches that fresh he most definitely should not be taking a shower, but you weren’t exactly raring to go barge in and stop him. Rolling on your back you started up at the intricately decorated ceiling.

It was separated into sections, golden leaf etchings mapping out the edges of each box. The walls were painted deep red, with dark mahogany load-bearing beams jutting across the room. Overall, the room was bordering on maximalist, a variety of different wall decorations littering every open available area, all overlapping and intertwining in an artful way. It was a stark contrast with the subtle greens and browns of your furnished apartment.

Your apartment that Rex had haphazardly clamored into, soaking wet.

You ran a hand over your face at the memory. Usually, you pushed it away when it surfaced. The guilt that you didn’t go with him felt suffocating at times, but this time you didn’t.

The shower was still running; Rex would be gone for a bit longer. What was the harm in reanalyzing it? Not the confusion, or the anger, or the frustration, but the feeling of his eyes on you. His hand pressed flesh against the wood of the front door, your breaths intermingling. His eyes on you in the elevator. It made your stomach twist.

He had asked you to dance. Talked your ear off for hours about islands versus bar-styled countertops, and the different ways to properly utilize skylights. Which, you didn’t think there was even a way to utilize it, right? It was just there to let in natural lighting and look pretty. Rex had sighed heavily when you said this and launched into a whole lecture about it. You don’t know exactly when it happened, but you started to enjoy the sound of his voice. Steady, constant. Sure, he wasn’t exactly the most elegantly spoken person ever, you couldn’t come up with anyone who cursed half as much as he did. But it was comfortable, you couldn’t say the same for trying to sleep in this dress.

Ugh. You felt like a proper sap. Even now, as angry with him as you were, you almost missed him. He wasn’t even a room away and you missed him. Thank god Rae can’t read your thoughts, or you’d really never hear the end of it. This is borderline pathetic.

The sound of the shower turning off lurching you from your thoughts. You quickly turned on your side, away from the bathroom, although you’re not sure why. A few minutes pass and the door creaks open, the fan inside the bathroom whirling away the silence of the bedroom. You wait to hear footsteps, but they don’t come. He’s standing there at the door, you can feel his eyes on you, but you refuse to look back.

“Are you sleeping or just still ignoring me?” His voice is quiet, unsure. The statement itself is ridiculous though, you haven’t been ignoring him any more than he’s been ignoring you. You were so consistently aware of him that it almost seemed impossible to truly ignore him.

“I’m not ignoring you, Rex, we just talked a few minutes ago.” Your response came out short and sharp, more so than you intended.

“That wasn’t talking.”

You breathed out a sigh, turning finally to face him, propping yourself up on your elbows. The short length of his hair dried quickly, which somewhat disappointed you after the trip down memory lane to how he’d looked at your apartment. Wet strands clinging to his face, droplets clinging to every lock. He was out of the dress shirt and was now wearing a generic white t-shirt, over dark grey boxers. “What would you like to talk about?” Your tone dry, closed off.

You wanted to talk to him, wanted him to talk to you. But the residual irritation was still clinging to you like a burr entrenched in an old dog’s fur. You couldn’t shake it.

“Are you okay?”

You blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah, I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That guy…whatever his name was. He had you in a really rough spot.”

“I survived.”

“I know that, but are you okay?”

There was a longer silence. You tilted your head an inch, looking at him, really looking at him. “I’ve had a gun pointed at me before. Really, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me.” Soft, hardly audible.

“Rex, I know you think I struggle to hold my own but-”

He groans, “Would you stop that?”

You bite back your response, pushing yourself up more so that you are fully sitting up. The gesture pulls your dress, causing the top to dig mildly into your shoulders. Pulling at it absentmindedly, you try to formulate a response.

“Will you stop being so stubborn and let me help you?” He’s taken a few steps towards you. You can smell the shampoo, it was fancy, something already set in the bathroom. Distinctly not him.

“Will you stop being so stubborn and let me help you?” You shoot back with a glare, your eyes settling on his side you know is injured.

“Is that seriously what it’ll fucking take?” Irritation laces his voice. It could make you sigh once again, you didn’t want to be fighting with him, but a small voice in your head reminded you that he had refused your help. Doubted your abilities.

“Maybe it is.” You shift, the silk of your dress exaggerating the movement with how little friction you have against the sheets. “You’re not supposed to take a shower that soon after getting stitches anyways, you’re gonna get an infection.”

“Christ! Are we really doing this again?”

“You’re the one who brought it up!”

“No, I’m not, I offered to help you with your dress!”

“You can help me with the dress after I’ve healed you!”

“Unbelievable.” Rex let out a huff, crossing his arms, which proved to be ill-thought-through, as he immediately returned his arms to his sides, fighting a wince.

You scooted out of bed, crossing the short distance to him. “Deal?”

Rex’s expression furrowed, but he surprisingly didn’t seem to want to argue further. He held his hand out for you, and you quickly took it. The last thing you wanted was for him to change his mind at the last second. Shutting your eyes tightly you willed your way through it. Mending the wound in his side, and a few other bruises you could sense were waiting to announce themselves in a few hours just below the skin. With your thumb pressed firmly against his pulse point, you could almost swear you felt his heartbeat stutter.

“Okay, happy?” His voice was low still, his eyes practically drilling into you.

“More than I was.” You concede, letting go of his hand.

“Will you let me help you now?”

“I suppose.” You murmur, and before you can turn for him, his hands are on your shoulders, guiding you to face away. The pads of his fingers rough against your skin, sending a lightning-fast spark down your spine. With every passing moment, you only became more and more aware of the fact that the two of you were alone in a room and that he was helping you free yourself from the confines of your dress.

His touch left your shoulder to meet with the back of your dress, easily unzipping it for you. The interaction lasted no more than a few seconds, but that’s all it took. It felt intimate, too much.

As soon as his grasp on the zipper disappeared you were practically jumping away, grabbing your bag again, and locking yourself in the bathroom. Really, really smooth.

Switching to your nightwear took no time at all, but you still spent a good few minutes standing against the door, regulating your breathing. Willing yourself to get a fucking grip.

When you returned, Rex was settled back on his couch, both arms now settled under his head with his side injury taken care of.

“You can have the bed if you want-”

“No.” It cuts through the end of your sentence. A breath passed between you, without him looking over. “Thank you for offering, I guess.”

Okay…

You shrugged to yourself; you weren’t going to fight him on it. The bed was much more comfortable, and the exhaustion of the evening was catching up with you. After you had closed the bathroom door, there was a surprising amount of light still filtering under the bedroom door and over the curtains. Did they ever turn the lights off in the hallway? The sheets felt much better now that you weren’t in the confines of your dress, you were ready to pass out, and after a few turns, you did.

You couldn’t have been asleep for long. It felt like you’d blinked from when you must have fallen asleep to right now. You were sure you heard something but you were too groggy to know for sure what it had been. So, you waited, straining to hear something, anything-

It’s soft. Not what had woken you up, but definitely distinguishable. You can hear Rex’s breathing, it’s quick, distressed. A few moments after zeroing in on the sound of it, a soft groan breaks through the silence. It’s sharp, clear indicator of pain. Before you can fully register anything, you’re swinging your legs over the side of the bed. The floor feels cool against your bare feet, and the warmth of the blankets beckons you to lay back down, but you push through. You pad as quietly as you can over to the couch, slamming your foot into your bag at one point, which draws a stifled breath from you.

“Rex?” He didn’t immediately stir. The only thing now illuminating the room was the ghost of light peeking through the curtains. It shined on part of the wall behind the couch, a corner of it hardly lighting his face. His eyebrows were tight, an obvious sign of discomfort. “Rex.” You said again, lowering yourself down closer to the ground so he didn’t wake up to you standing over him.

After a brief moment of hesitation, you put your hand on his arm, preparing to say his name again. But upon contact his hand quickly grasped yours, his eyes now open. You give him a speedy once over, his chest was rising and falling in a hectic fashion. His eyes quickly scanned your face, mouth slightly parted. After a few blinks and a deep shaky breath, his grip loosened on your wrist, obviously needing a moment to fully recognize you and the environment around him.

“Rex?” You whispered, not trying to take your hand back. His thumb was lightly grazing over the back of it, making goosebumps rise up your arm. He had relaxed mildly, rolling slightly to face towards the ceiling, trying to regulate his breathing. For a moment you felt a little hot, watching his chest rise and fall so desperately. You closed your eyes mentally shaking the thought. He was obviously reliving something bad, and you were thinking about how good he looked? Get a grip.

“Come to the bed.”

“What?” His voice was scratchy from sleep, but you didn’t miss the quickness with which he snapped to look at you.

“I don’t want you sleeping over here alone, and you have just as much of a right to the bed.” Rex hesitated for a moment and then went to speak. His body language screamed that he was going to refuse. “I can’t sleep with you over here being as loud as you’re being.” You tease lightly, hoping that will be enough, but just in case you add, “We can put pillows down the middle if you’re so worried. But this is ridiculous.”

Rex closed his mouth and gave a light sigh, his tired gaze staring into you.

“Was I really being loud?”

“Yes.” You say without hesitation, standing up again. “Come on.” Your hand leaves him, and you take notice of how his hand follows you a few inches before dropping back down. You still couldn’t understand why he didn’t kiss you earlier during the dance. Every sign you were picking up on screamed that he was interested, he did everything but outright say it. “Get up loser.” You grabbed his blanket, tossed it over the other side of the couch, and offered him a hand. He didn’t take it of course, but it wasn’t in the same way as other times. There was no malice behind the act, but rather hesitation.

You go back to the bed, settling back on your side, pulling the blanket down on his. You pushed one of the decorative pillows vertically in the middle to separate his side from yours. After making a show of demonstrating it he finally moved to the other side of the bed. After a brief pause, he was in bed with you, pulling the covers up over him.

You weren’t sure what to do now. Or even if this would actually help. Chances were he could still have troublesome dreams here, but now you’d hear it even more. You pulled the duvet up a little more, the coarse material grazing your cheek. You were facing each other, something you thought would be awkward.

But it wasn’t. You both just stared, a heavy, weighted silence drifting over you. His bright verdant eyes traveled over your face. You could feel your eyes drooping slightly from the exhaustion you were still feeling.

“Do I really repulse you that badly?” The whispered question caught you off guard, causing your eyes to snap open again.

“What?” You’re met with silence, unnerving, sterile. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just…” He started, his fingers picking at the embroidering on the pillow between you. “Earlier, I helped you with your dress, and you left as fast as you could, and now, with the pillow-”

In this moment you were increasingly grateful that there was very little lighting, because your face was feeling so warm you were sure there was no way he would have been able to miss it.

“You don’t repulse me, Rex.” You blinked a few times. He was completely misreading you.

“Yeah, sure, no need to say it just to try making me feel better, you know.”

“When have I ever said something solely for the purpose of making you feel better, hm?” You smiled, your own hand mirroring his in tracing the embroidery.

“Maybe I keep hoping you’ll learn to try.” His voice regains a bit of its life, less the small whisper, more Rex.

“Tough luck, Sloane.” His last name ghosted over your lips, something you’d been waiting to bring up since you heard it.

He groaned, turning his head to he was stifled by his pillow. “Oh, brother.”

“Rex Sloane, hm?” You roll on your back, staring up at the ceiling. “Not horrible as far as last names go. Very official though, I think you were meant to be a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” It’s muffled still.

“Mhm. Sloane and Co. Your business partners wouldn’t get a choice in the name because you wouldn’t be able to get anyone to stick around with you for long. You know, with your dazzling personality.”

“Ouch.”

“Now that I think about it, all lawyers are dicks, so you’d fit in well.”

“Well, that’s a reassurance.” He sighs, rolling back onto his back as well.

You hum in response. “Sloane…Sloane-“ You test out his last name a few times in different tones, snickering to yourself as he lets out a disgruntled noise a few times.

“Stop saying it.”

“Why? Worried I’ll wear it out?”

“Something like that.” He said lowly, his head turned to look at you.

“Limited edition?”

“Would you quit it?”

There’s another pause, only clouded by the sounds of your shared, disjointed breathing. You shift back again, the bed creaking softly, so you’re on your side facing him. The center pillow only made it harder to make out his face, so you push it down further, wedging it between your chest and his upper arm.

“Have you been having a lot of nightmares lately?” It’s a whisper, your voice crackling through the empty air.

“A few.” He mumbled back, his gaze lowering down your face, or at least you think it does, it’s too dark to tell.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is a little.” You respond quietly. He had asked you to come back with him. That night all those weeks ago. You could still feel the rain dripping down your face. You could still feel his gaze on you as the car you had called for him traveled down the road in front of your apartment.

“You wouldn’t have known.” His features are soft, he means it.

“It was immature, I shouldn’t have left in the first place.”

“It’s not like Rudy and I gave you any choice.” He chuckled softly, a familiar bitterness, not directed at you, but at the memory.

“I should have been the bigger person, stood my ground.”

“You shouldn’t have even been put in that position in the first place.”

Your gaze searched his eyes, and for a moment you wanted to cry. One shot to the head and he was no longer clinging to his belief that you didn’t belong. But what if he was right? He and Rudy had not figured out the whole picture when confronting you, but they weren’t wrong. You were hiding something. You were still hiding something. Everything inside screamed at you to tell him, admit that a part of him was right. Apologize. Yell at him for being nice to you now. Something.

“I’m sorry Rex.” Was all you could manage to murmur for now.

His brows twitched closer together, and his mouth curled slightly downward in an expression you couldn’t quite read. Was he angry? Upset that you were trying to apologize now instead of a few weeks ago when he first woke up in the hospital? It made your stomach lurch.

“God…Joy-” He paused before uttering your actual name like he was having to correct himself. “Would you just-” He tilted his head, looking up at the ceiling again as if fighting himself on something before he turned back to you. His eyes are on you again, but for a split second. it feels different. Like he can hardly contain himself, before he says, “Fuck it.” in a low tone.

His left hand is quickly on the side of your neck, it’s a gentle touch, but there was a firmness to it, unwavering. In the movement he had pushed the duvet slightly off your shoulder. His thumb brushes right behind your ear sending a jolt of shock down your spine. Not even a second later his mouth is on yours. Hungry. Desperate. The suddenness of the action steals the breath from your lungs. Your brain is hardly functioning fast enough to process what is happening.

As quickly as it happened, he’s pulling away. His hand lifting to hover over your neck rather than laying directly against it. So much for the barrier pillow.

“Fuck-” A shaky tone laced around his words. “I’m sorry-”

He doesn’t have the chance to finish what he is saying. And frankly, you did not care to know what it was going to be. You had surged forward to meet him again, his shock present in the way he tensed. Only a second was needed before his hand was back on the side of your neck. He groaned lightly into the kiss; it made you feel lightheaded. His lips parted slightly, inviting you in. As you deepened the kiss his fingers pushed further, meeting with your hair. They curled slightly, grasping a few locks.

Your hands came forward to grab fistfuls of his shirt, your knuckles brushing his collarbone at the motion. He reacted to this by putting his free hand on the other side of your face. It was a little awkward, both of you on your sides facing each other. Trying to utilize both arms while you both were simultaneously lying on one of them. It was hard to think, to form a single coherent thought, this was actually happening.

You broke the kiss to laugh quietly, both at the awkwardness of the position and the fact this was really happening, but he was not about to let you leave yet. His hand that was in your hair tightened and pulled your head closer again. He was greedy with your mouth, exploring it like he would never be able to again. You could feel his heartbeat under your clenched fists, it was completely erratic.

When he finally broke the kiss himself, it was only because he was in dire need of air. Lightheaded, his mouth parted as he panted, quickly trying to regain oxygen. You shared in his need, your eyes un-focusing slightly from the strain of your mutual exercise.

“Woah.” You wanted to slap yourself. That was all you could think to say? You weren’t sure where to start, what to say, what to admit to. What did this mean?

Rex didn’t respond, immediately shifting forward slightly to return to you, but you pushed him back lightly, your hands splayed across his chest, you still hadn’t caught your breath. He immediately nods.

“You’re right, we should stop.”

You respond to his words with an incredulous smile, going to sit up. His head tilted upwards to follow you at the motion, and his fingers trailed over your shoulder down your arm. “And why is that, Rex?”

He sits up too, his back fleshed with the headboard. “Because I really want to kiss you.”

You wanted to tease him, pretend that this wasn’t a huge deal, play it cool. But honestly, your heart was racing. “What is so wrong with that?” You tried to return to your usual banter to the best of your abilities, but you were already leaning slightly towards him.

He lets out a small sigh, his eyes were only on your lips, in the scarce light you could see a dusting of pink coloring over his cheekbones. He honestly doesn’t look capable of forming a cohesive thought, which made you feel a bit better about how cloudy your own head was. He ran a shaky hand up over the back of his neck. “Because I really want to kiss you…” He repeats, “ And I don’t think I want it to stop there.” He admitted softly.

Oh.

You blinked a few times, a subtle pricking rising from the back of your spine. Excitement.

He looked like he was actually at war with himself, the most pathetic look you had ever seen on his face, his eyes staring off in another direction. And just like that you were scooting closer, your knees brushing against his thigh. His gaze darts to you as you internally debate what to say. Maybe it would be simpler to stop here. Go sleep on the couch, leave him alone on the bed. But that was never going to be a real option at this point. Not after the dancing, fighting, longing.

You rise up slightly, lifting your leg that’s closest to him and placing it between his thighs so you can be closer. His eyes quietly watch you, and once you have situated yourself your gaze returns to him. “I want you to kiss me.” You say definitively, biting the inside of your lip. “If that’s okay with you.” You add, wincing slightly.

“Yeah?” For a moment you see his familiar cocky side, a small grin appearing on his face. But you know, especially now, how much of a show it is. You’re convinced if you put your hand to his chest, you’d be able to feel just how anxious he is. You just couldn’t figure out why. He was not one to be shy, Rae had told you plenty about his past excursions with Duplikate and he dated Eve for years. Why was this different?

“Yeah.” You say, leaning in towards him, but his lips don’t meet yours. Instead, his hand is traveling up your back to the nape of your neck, gently tilting your head to the side. A soft gasp leaves you as you feel him kiss your neck, trailing them up towards your jaw. His other hand is grabbing your hip, pulling you closer to him. The friction of his leg between yours drew out a breath from you. You can feel him smiling against your neck, his hand is moving up to the hem of your shirt, his fingers ghosting against your bare skin underneath it. “Fuck-” you breathe, his fingertips sending chills up your side.

This seems to have some kind of effect on him because now he is tilting your head down and forcing his way into your mouth. He’s sloppy like he cannot decide what he wants to do. No move feels precalculated.

Your hand comes up to the side of his neck, mirroring the move he had been doing when he first kissed you. Instantly his hand that was on your hip is clasped over yours on his neck. He pulls away for a painful second just to mutter “Don’t.”

“Why?” You pant as he shifts back to kissing your neck, making his way to the tendon where it connects to your shoulder.

“You’re making me lose focus.” He says against your skin. You let out a soft noise as you feel his teeth lightly graze you. His hand is still wrapped around yours, his thumb trailing over your knuckles. The hand that was around the nape of your neck traversed down your spine to the small of your back, pushing firmly against you.

A ringing sound fills the room. Your phone. Immediately you groan, turning your gaze to the table on your side of the bed. You shift to see if it’s important, but Rex is not making it easy for you, immediately his hands are both on your hips trying to hold you in place, still lying open mouth kisses on you, now he’s hovering over your collarbone.

“At least let me turn it off.” You laugh, your hand coming up to lightly pull him off of you. He grumbles against your skin but loosens his grip, letting you quickly crawl over to turn it off.

One Missed Call: Cecil Stedman

Shit. You ran a hand through your hair; this was more than likely important. And you could not think of many people you wanted to talk to less at this exact moment.

A light flashed across the screen as you powered it off. Something you could live to regret later. You turned and shuffled across the bed back to Rex, who was watching you with a love-drunk gaze. You put your hand to the side of his face and leaned in giving him a chased kiss before settling in back on top of him again. His hands were immediately at the bottom of your shirt, you could feel he was moments away from ridding you of it.

“Dammit!” You said with frustration as your phone started to ring again. How did Cecil do that?

“It’s Cecil, isn’t it?” Rex sighed, his head making a soft clunking nose as he rested it against the headboard behind him.

You looked over at the phone and then back at Rex. He looked so perfectly disheveled. His eyes unfocused, lips parted, kiss swollen, and a tantalizing heat radiating off him. But you both knew if you ignored Cecil much longer, he was going to just teleport into the room.

“Yes.” You admitted, running a hand over his chest.

“Typical.” Rex snorts, obviously feeling as frustrated as you are.

You don’t know what to do. Cecil was only calling your phone, which meant you had to leave Rex here. No idea when or if you’d be back before morning. You go to get off Rex and he grabs you, his eyes quietly pleading with you.

“Please.” It’s such a simple word, but it sounds so pretty when he says it. He was making this as hard for you as possible, and you had a feeling he knew it.

“I don’t think you want Cecil to show up in the room any more than I do.” You whisper, leaning forward and pressing what was meant to be a quick chaste kiss to his lips. But it quickly devolves into much more. Resulting in you having to break away and practically hopping off the bed.

“You don’t need to use Cecil as an excuse to turn me down you know.” He gives you a smirk, he would seem unbothered if his body language didn’t completely betray every level of uncertainty he was feeling. Rex Splode was nervous. It made you smile. If you thought you would be able to escape another kiss you would have given him another one now. But after having to pry his hands off of you from the last one you figured it would be safer to stay off the bed.

“I’m not turning you down, Rex.” You reaffirm, if you had more time, you’d spill about how badly you’d wanted this, and for how long. Tell him about how your mind was reeling, and part of you wondered if this was a dream. And then you’d explain why you had to be sure after the last dream you had about him. You grab your phone and pull on your spare pair of shoes. “Who knows, this might be nothing…” You knew the chances of that were so minuscule there was no point even hoping. Cecil was too no-nonsense of a guy to just call to chat.

“Next time I see you,” Rex starts, uncertainty lacing his voice, “We’ll talk?”

You hesitated; your hand already grasped around the doorknob. There was nothing in this instant that you wanted more and less. It was starting to dawn on you that this was a turning point, your weeks of visiting him in the hospital felt so long ago now. This felt complicated and messy. You just made out with someone who’s basically a glorified coworker. Well, that’s an unfair way to put it, he was a friend at least now, right? Maybe soon to be more- you’re getting way ahead of yourself.

“We will, Sloane.” You smile at him and leave the room before your able to change your mind.

“You’ve got to answer your phone when I call.” Cecil’s voice cuts through the dark of the hallway, making you jolt.

“God, you could at least announce yourself or something.”

“I just did.” Without another beat passing he starts debriefing. “We just caught something on the satellites, moving fast.”

“Okay? Why are you telling me? You’ve got all of the other Guardians who could deal with that-”

“We’ve only seen that kind of trajectory and flight pattern twice before.”

You stand in silence, folding your arms across your chest. “The suspense is killing me.” It’s dry, subtle sarcasm displaying completely your distaste at being bothered.

“Once with Invincible, and the other time with Omni-man.” You cocked your head slightly.

“It’s a Viltrumite?”

“All answers point to...”

“Shit.” You murmured.

“Shit, is right.”

Author's note:

Rex: If I kiss you, we’ll end up kissing on the couch, and if we end up kissing on the couch chances are we’ll kiss in the bedroom and if we kiss in the bedroom then you know, that’s the part I always rush into. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to rush into spending the night together.

Reader: I want to spend the night together

Rex: I have no problem with that.

Also this image I made to haunt my friend after I let her read a draft of this chapter

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101 @0ut0fsweets @sugaramped @spidernuggets @sweet-cuddlebug @ohmysoultakemysoul @lapisbwub @velovicy @liquideyes @insirecrate @isnotraven @mightymeick @k1nky-fool request to be tagged for new parts!

chapter twenty-one

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spidernuggets · 2 months ago

Note

Rex x Reader that isn't a fan of sex because they are scared?

Chat I felt this request so very deeply you don’t even KNOW. Intimacy issues are so real and so very frustrating, it hurts😓😓

Rex Sloan x Reader

Rex has always been far more experienced than you could ever imagine yourself to be. Intimacy is...scary. The touching, the vulnerability, the weird feelings-just the very idea of it had you dizzy and uneasy. All of that fear and uneasiness while dating somebody like Rex? You were just sure he'd get tired of your hesitance.

Even laying in his bed kissing him was pushing it a bit much. It was originally just a normal little hang out with your boyfriend- just sitting in bed together and watching a movie. That only lasted up until two characters on screen kissed, giving him the grand idea to turn over and kiss you. It was short and sweet at first, but it quickly became heated when his hands began to move on you. Simple, innocent touches at first; cupping your face, rubbing up and down your arms. It was when his hand wandered up your shirt when you suddenly got tense and stopped kissing him back.

Did he want to go further? Was he trying to get further? How far?! You knew it wasn't going to end well, what if he-

"Are you uh..you okay, babe?"

His soft words managed to pull you out of your whirlwind of thoughts, your eyes flickering up to meet his dark emerald ones.

"...What? Y-yea, I'm-" "No you aren't" he cut you off before you could try to finish speaking. "You got like, super tense, what's wrong?"

Then his hand slipped from your stomach and to your hand instead. With his hand off your body, you could finally form a coherent thought.

"I-I just..” you just stop and shrug. Would he even understand it? How would he, being scared of sex?! He’d surely make fun of you for this. You could feel your face reddened from embarrassment. Admitting this out loud was so much scarier than you originally expected

“I-I’m just nervous��th-this is like, so scary. Like..I can’t do it. I’m not ready for it!” You sucked in a deep breath. Your hands kept wiping and rubbing on your shirt in attempt to dry them from sweat. “I don’t..I don’t know when I will be ready for it..I-I’m so sorry, R-“

“Baby,” he finally cuts off your little rant with a soft murmur. His hands moved up to cup your face. His thumbs draw small circles on your cheeks, his big hands keeping you from looking or turning away from him.

“..I’m fine with it. I don’t care if you aren’t ready or just…don’t wanna have sex with me. I mean, I’m not gonna…I’m not gonna dump you ‘cause you don’t wanna sleep with me.” His voice was quiet and warm, a honeyed murmur could sooth all frights and doubts in your mind. “You thought I’d kick you to the curb cause of that?” He asked as a joke, snorting out a laugh when you nod vigorously.

“Well you’re wrong. I won’t do anything you’re not ready for or scared of. Hell, I’ll stop kissing you first if you want me to!” He happily suggested with a big grin on his face.

Your heart melts at his excitement to keep you from getting uncomfortable around him. “Rex, you don’t have to do that last part” you said between a soft chuckle. “Oh good” he said with an over exaggerated sigh, instantly moving in to kiss your forehead “I think I’d die if I didn’t get to do this at least twice a day” he whispered those last few words against your skin, kissing you once more before he pulled away with a soft smile.

“Let’s finish our movie”

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spidernuggets · 2 months ago

Text

Father!Rex Sloan Headcanons

(requested by @queen-of-gotham tysm queen🧡)

AN: lowk wasn’t expecting anyone to want a continuation of this so soon, but i’m extremely grateful 🫶🏾 this is giving me a chance to write new characters and flesh out my creativity — never hesitate to send me requests in my comments or asks!

WARNINGS: AFAB!Reader (no use of female pronouns), brief mentions of sex MDNI, pregnancy, fluff, OOC Rex?? (first time writing for him,so idk), not proofread

Being a risk taker was something Rex was known for, this goes for in and out of the bedroom. Whether you were on the pill or not, he always insisted on fucking you raw. (as long as you let him) Pregnancy be damned. There’s a 50/50 chance and he’s willing to gamble. And so far, you’ve been baby free.

Rex swears that he could stay buried in your pussy for hours. The way your slick walls gripped him like a vice, milking his cock for all it’s worth, fuck…it’s addicting. He rolled his hips lazily into yours, making sure you felt every inch of him. He panted against your neck, his messy russet hair sticking to your skin. You’ve lost count of how many times you came. But were you complaining? Noo. You couldn’t, not when he kept hitting the spot that made you see stars. You mewled beneath him as he thrusted into you once more.

“Rex…”

“Shhh…I know, I know— fuck, you feel so amazing…Just one more round, I’m almost done I swear…”

His lips grazed your smooth shoulders, kissing the marks he’d left — clearly drunk off of you.

“One more round.” What a bunch of bullshit🙄

The night ended with his cum leaking out of you and a positive test the next following days. He couldn’t say that he didn’t expect it, but that doesn’t stop him from being shocked. Rex Sloan being a father? What a joke. However, as you took another test to be sure, reality began to set in. He’s going to be a dad…

At first, he didn’t know how to feel — mainly because he lacked the knowledge on how to be a parent, given that his own were absent. Because of this, he wonders if he could ever be a good father. He’s saved babies occasionally, sure, but never handled them. They were loud, needy, and messy — he knew about that much.

So when you told Rex that you wished to keep the baby, he was hesitant. How could you want to raise a child with a guy like him? This man wasn’t known for being the smartest nor responsible in certain situations. He’s been in relationships and broke more hearts than he could count, there’s no way he could be someone your child could look up to. Not after everything he’s done.

Thinks that the domestic life was something he’s not worthy of having.

While he may be worried, he’ll still be supportive of your decision. He’ll have to warm up to the idea of parenthood. But with your love and reassurance, he’ll grow more comfortable.

Since then, you’ve noticed him trying to turn his life around bit by bit. First, he’s picked up cooking. Every morning you’ll wake to find him in the kitchen — hair pulled back and sporting a pink apron.

“Shit, shit, shit-! Fuck!”

You awoke Rex’s strings of curses and the beeping of the smoke alarm. You bursted out of the bedroom, the smell of smoke assaulting your nose. A fire! Rushing in search of your boyfriend, you saw him standing over a pan of burnt bacon and an overflowing pot of oatmeal.

“I try doing something nice for once and-“

The moment he turned around to go open a window, he froze at the sight of you standing there — looking gorgeous with your stomach round. His eyes widened and his cheeks burned a bright crimson. You weren’t supposed to be up this early!

“Oh, good morning, babe…uhh-“

Walking towards the kitchen counter, he picked up a plate and offered it to you with a nervous chuckle — a piece of toast, slightly overcooked scrambled eggs, and a crispy looking pancake. He smiled sheepishly.

“Breakfast?”

Cooking may not be his forte, but it’s the thought that counts. (he’ll get better at it soon…) And for you? He’d do anything.

Started taking his job a bit more seriously. If he’s going to be your provider, then he needs to bring more bills home. He also became dead set on buying a home…his first home with you. You’d both be cuddling in bed, flipping through house magazines.

“What about this one, hun?”

“Hmm…nahh, the backyard is too small. If we’re gonna build a playground, then we need something bigger. Our child deserves the best of the best.”

And that’s a belief he stood by.

Absolutely adored your body’s changes. He always loved your body, but seeing you grow curvier and softer made him cherish (and crave…) you even more. The fact that you were carrying a part of him in you always made his heart twist. He never passed up on an opportunity to touch you.

Watch your back when you’re around him…you once bent over to throw laundry in the dryer and he smacked your ass so hard😭 (flat or not he don’t care…)

“Rex!”

“Sorry, can’t help myself when you have allat out and about!”

As silly as it sounds, he reads parenting books. He wants to be mentally prepared for this new chapter in life, and he wants to be a father your child could be proud of.

Accompanies you to every appointment you have, doesn’t matter how important it is, he wants to be there every step of the way — and to stay informed about your health.

Got midnight cravings? He’ll gladly get up in the middle of the night if it means you’ll be happy and the little one is healthy…

Back hurting? He’ll sit down with you for hours while rubbing the kinks out, his touch soothing and reverent.

Praises you all of the time, letting you know how grateful he is.

Rex likes to rest his head on your stomach to feel the soft movements of your baby every night before bed. He also talks to them too, telling them how they’re going to have the best dad ever.

“We’re gonna make everyone jealous.”

“Just know that I’ll blow up mountains for you, you hear?”

“I’m gonna give you the world…”

As he continued to lay his head on your belly, he could have sworn that he heard another heartbeat. Wait…

Yep, you were pregnant with not only one, but two girls! Rex felt a little lightheaded at the news. Now he had to work as twice as hard.

When you two moved to your new house, he hosted a baby shower with the members of Teen Team. (Immortal and Rudy had to pay an entrance fee) Seeing everyone bring in gifts, playing party games, and laughing together — it was moments like this that reminded Rex that life was still worth living.

Became paranoid as you neared your due date. He had the hospital bag tucked in the trunk of his car already.

“Rex, it was just a contraction…we’re fine.”

“But what if they come early?!”

During the entire birthing process, Rex was a nervous wreck. He sat beside you, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his hand from you squeezing him so hard, and fanning you. He kept a close eye on the doctors and nurses, not trusting them on bit. If they caused you any unnecessary pain, he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from cussing them out.

Your pained noises broke his heart.

However, once he heard those two cries, the world came to a standstill. The moment he held them in his arms, he couldn’t help but to weep. You blessed him with something special. And for that, he’s eternally grateful. And just like that, he found his true purpose: this little family.

It’s funny how your daughters looked like a copy of their father…those Sloan genes must really be dominant.

His dramatic ass couldn’t change a diaper without gagging 💀 The amount of times he nearly threw up…it got so bad that you banned him from changing them. He makes it up to them by taking up the night shift whenever he could.

Got them matching plushies of himself for them to sleep with. That way, they’ll know that their dad is always with them.

Loves pushing them around in a stroller while he goes for a morning jog. His chest swells with pride whenever anyone compliments them.

“Aww! Aren’t they just the cutest?”

“Mhm, and they got it from their daddy!”

Makes a picture book for ever milestone and family moment. Rex knows he won’t live forever, so he wants to leave them something to remember him by.

Calls them: “little shit”, “baby girl”, “sweet pea”

Accidentally taught them how to curse. Old habits die hard, okay? Their first word wasn’t “mama” or “dada”…it was “fuck.” And since that day, Rex watched his profanity around the house. You were pissed💀

I’m sorry, but there’s no way in hell that he’s going to raise an ipad kid. As a matter of fact, they won’t get their first electronic until the end of middle school. Instead, Rex keeps them busy with books. Having a good education was a luxury he missed out on, and he doesn’t want the same for them. He’s raising future Einsteins…

And to keep them from spending too much time indoors, a nice playground was built in the backyard — just as he planned. It had a slide, swing set, and even a treehouse. (Eve helped build it)

He’ll be out there for hours, playing tag and pushing them on the swings. You could always hear their infectious laughter. In a way, you knew that bonding with them healed his inner child.

Attends every school event no matter how big or small. Showing up matters. It could be a crappy flute recital, and he’ll be there recording.

Packs them cute lunches for school. (don’t worry, his skills have improved) He leave them lil notes.

“Daddy is always proud of you. :)♥️” , “Make sure to eat your veggies, alright? Love you!”

If they tell him that his cute lunches are lame by the time they’re in their teens, he’ll genuinely be heartbroken 😭

Rex does not tolerate any back talk. If they get sassy with you or him, he’s quick to quip back and it’s enough to make them shut up. I mean, he’s a sassy man apocalypse veteran.

“These greens suck balls…”

“Yeah, just like the D you got on your report card. But you don’t see me whining.”

If they’re having boy problems, Rex will listen and give them advice. (all while trying not to think about beating up the asshole) He used to be a troublemaker, so he knows what it’s like to be in their shoes, and why they do the stupid shit they do.

Speaking if boys, Rex is pretty strict and judgmental about who they bring home. They have to impress him before they could even think about taking the girls out of the house. He’s not letting them get heartbroken on his watch. When they’re over, bedroom doors wide open. He’ll walk by occasionally to make sure nothing funny is going on. No cuddling, kissing, none of that…

He will also shit talk the boy whenever they leave.

You and Rex were lying in bed, preparing to doze off for the night, until…

“Please tell me you saw the way he dressed…”

“Honey…”

“If you’re gonna meet the parents, at least dress like you want to make a good impression. And that fucker had the nerve to call me by my first name!”

It’s safe to say they never came back…

Is it weird that I see him liking them painting his nails

Has a small picture of you and the girls in his locker at the Teen Team HQ. Not only was it comforting to look at whenever he came back from a grueling mission, but it served to remind him to stay safe out there. For the first time, he had people who loved and cherished him unconditionally. Coming home to you all was his goal at the end of the day.

Has a heart locket with you all in there as well, he keeps it hidden under his suit.

Overall, this man became a family man and got his life back on track

IT WOULD BE A SHAME IF A BUNCH OF INVINCIBLE VARIANTS CAME TO DESTROY EARTH

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spidernuggets · 2 months ago

Note

Rex Splode x Plus size reader with insecurities about their weight

Sure, love bug! 🐛

🧡💛More To Love💛🧡

(Rex Sloan x Plus-size!Reader)

Word count: 1k

Synopsis: insecurities? Not if Rex has anything to say about it.

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, oral f!receiving, use of pet names (babe, baby, mama), body worship, slight self deprecation.

Notes from the batcave: as a plus sized girliepop myself, this man would not care about your weight. Pre or post lobotomy. ☠️

Rex was… befuddled to say the least, watching you stand half-dressed in the mirror and pinching at the fat on your body with a displeased frown on your pretty lips.

You had exuded confidence from the moment he met you. You were loud and bright and so unabashedly yourself. You walked with purpose, carried yourself with a confidence he’d only seen on runway models, and all you were doing was hauling buckets of flowers with water at the bottom inside the store you worked at for the evening.

“Uh- here, let me help you.” Rex remembers fumbling his greeting, strong hands gently grasping the bucket in yours and instead of letting him, you gave him a confused look and a similar frown on your plump lips that you were wearing now when you responded with,

“I got it. This is my job. You need a bouquet or something?”

Did he need flowers? No. But he bought some anyway. He had spent a half hour that day strolling behind you and asking half-baked questions just to hear your voice more before ultimately buying a bouquet of mixed florals based on your recommendation.

He was captivated by you. His mind wandering to less-than-appropriate thoughts every time he showed up at the florist shop looking for you and new excuses to see you and the outfit you were wearing.

The day he finally asked you out for real, you were wearing these shorts that your thick thighs ate up, and Rex’s immediate thought was he could die happy between those thighs.

Not that he told you that right away, but he never cared about the ‘extra’ weight you claimed to have, only ever showering you with positive comments about how gorgeous you looked in whatever you were (or weren’t) wearing.

So to see you now, silently hating those beautiful curves he couldn’t get enough of, makes him a bit upset.

He comes up behind you, strong hands on your love handles, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“What’s the face for, babe?” He asks, peering at you through the mirror, his eyes on yours.

“It’s nothing, just-“ you start to say, biting your lip. How could you explain to him what you were feeling without sounding absolutely pathetic?

“Just what, baby?” He pressed, Rex’s head dipping to the curve of your neck, pressing a kiss to it.

“I know you had other girlfriends before- but meeting them…”

Your voice trails. He had brought you to the Guardians headquarters the day before to meet his team. His team that included two ex-girlfriends and who were both built like they could walk for Victoria’s Secret. What did he see in you in comparison? Those insecurities from before you decided to love yourself were coming back full force.

Rex understood. At least he thought he did. He wasn’t ever the sharpest tool in the shed.

“Eve is dating Mark and Rae isn’t even on the team anymore. I hardly see her.” He insists, lips kissing down your shoulder, gently pushing the bra strap down, thinking that maybe your discontentment was coming from a place of jealousy that they existed in the same room as him.

“Yeah, but they’re so… skinny. And I’m…” your voice trails as you motion to yourself, and Rex pulls back, utterly aghast that you would dare start that sentence.

“What? Beautiful? Gorgeous? Stunning? Uh… radiant?” He challenges, like he’s expecting you to deny any of the things he’s said. His hands now trail up to your ribs and down to the plushness of your thighs as the two of you talk.

“… Rex.” You huff his name, and he smirks, his lips pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“What? You’re gorgeous. I don’t know what you’re trying to go on about, but I love every bit of you.” He says, shifting to sweep you off your feet like you weigh nothing at all and bringing you to the bed.

He sits down, man-handling you to sit on top of his chest, pulling you up towards his face.

“Come on, mama, take a seat.” He insists, hands roaming over the plushness of your thighs and back to your ass to give a squeeze.

“What? No, you’ll suffocate.” You say, shifting as he tugs you up anyway, your hands bracing the headboard as you look down at him, trying to pull away, your body hovering over his face.

“I’ll die a damn lucky man if I go out by your pretty pussy, babe.” He insists, with a grin you can’t see as he lifts up to bury his face in your panty-clad cunt.

“Sit.” He says, hands moving to rip away the offending fabric, tossing the scraps somewhere into the floor of your room.

“Rex!” You squeal, pouting at the fact he destroyed one of your favorite pairs.

“I’ll get you new ones. Sit.” He says again, strong hands tugging on your thighs to bring your cunt to his face, and you do as he asks, bringing most of your weight down on him.

He grunts, starting his work, tongue running through your folds, nose bumping against your clit, too excited to dive in before he pulls back enough to reprimand you, because he can still do that, still has to chase the taste he wants.

“I said Sit.” It’s demanding as he roughly tugs on your legs until your full weight is on his face, and he happily drinks you up like he was parched.

Rex is slurring praises all night long, completely drunk off your entire essence. He’s manhandling you into every position he can think of, worshiping every inch of skin on your body. Every roll and stretch mark has been kissed, squeezed, licked, or lovingly bitten.

Insecure? Not as long as Rex has anything to say about it. He’ll worship you like a damn goddess until every negative thought you’ve ever had is out of that beautiful brain of yours.

🦇 back to the batcave 🦇

🪐 invincible masterlist 🪐

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spidernuggets · 2 months ago

Text

Crawling Back to You

Chapter nineteen

Synopsis: From Rex getting his brains blown out to asking you to dance at an over-exaggerated gala, he has a lot to think about.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Chapter: 19/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: Depictions of Violence, Wounds, a Panic Attack, and the Subtlest of References to a Boner (lol)

Note: Sorry for how long it took to get this out, I have been so busy every single day. Sorry the sections are so clumsily put together, I wanted to really show his thought process but its been almost 30k words since the last Rex POV chapter and both you and I would hate reading and writing every little thought

Getting the shit beaten out of you isn’t something that most people can say they are used to. As much as Rex hates to admit it, he has definitely started to get more than a little used to it. It was everyday hero business, another Tuesday, or Wednesday- whatever today is. A punch to the face? Elementary school shit. A bullet wound? He had more than he could count last year. A hand being separated from its limb? Well, that’s a little new… Gunshot to the head? What are the chances?

Seriously.

What are the chances of surviving this?

Rex wasn’t one to beg. Not for anything, and most assuredly not his life. There was a list of things he would be much more likely to beg for first. In the grand scheme of things, why should he care if he died? It’s not like he would live to regret it.

However, at this exact moment, as he rested heavily on his knees, breath coming out in heaves as his eyes trailed over the mutilated corpse belonging to one of Kate’s duplicates, he felt it. Like somehow, he was going to live to regret. Even as the metal pressed heavy against the back of his skull. As he feels the bullet enter the chamber, the click vibrating against him. It was over. He could practically feel the blood moving through his arm to escape from the massive mound of a wound left where his hand used to be. Small splattering sounds filled his hearing, drowned out only by the sound of rushing blood from within the confines of his head. There was no daring escape he could make or last-minute save. He was going to die. And somehow, he would still regret. More than he could think of in the split second before the bullet split through his head. But, that didn’t stop the images from flashing by.

Rex was sure he died, it was the only thought that could wreck through his mind as he gained consciousness. That was until he opened his eyes to see Cecil leaning against the counter in his hospital room.

If you die, and the first thing you see is Cecil Stedman, you definitely didn’t go up. Looking around the room his gaze landed on a metal sheath enclosed around his left arm. It all started to flood back. The fight, Kate, Rae, the feeling of his radius ramming through the skull of that blonde prick.

“Kate and Rae-?”

“Rae is going to be okay.” Cecil responded curtly, his jaw setting tightly.

The lack of mention towards Kate told Rex all he needed to know. He knew when it happened that there was no way she could have survived that. Even for how much they all seemed to escape death. Hell, he was even sure Rae was done for, he could still hear the sickening crack of her bones reverberating off the insides of his skull. He had been done for. Shot in the head. What were the chances?

“Killdeer saved your life. Or at least saved your mind, my guys weren’t sure they were going to be able to return you to-” He gestures at Rex in an unimpressed manner, “to this.” Cecil ended the statement with a firm look; he wasn’t there to coddle him or tell him it would be alright. He was there to tell him how things were going to be. Killdeer had saved Rex, even after everything. In other words, ‘I swear to god if you cause more problems in the team you’ll wish she hadn’t’. Even doped up on whatever painkillers were running through his system he could see Cecil’s hand.

It intrigued Rex that Cecil put this much effort into assuring the newest member’s seat in the Guardians. Or rather, it would intrigue him to look back on later, as he was a little out of it at the time being.

“Why?” His voice crackled with effort, he didn’t expect Cecil to be honest, but he asked nonetheless.

“Why wouldn’t she? Unless you’ve given her reason not to, hm?” Cecil straightened his tie absentmindedly, perhaps a way to occupy his hands. “You did good work, Rex. Stopped something that could have gotten very bad, very quickly. It was honorable.”

The praise pressed numbly to his ears, not something Rex was used to hearing from Cecil, but he still couldn’t find it in him to mentally accept it. This wasn’t a success. It was luck. Had the bullet been lodged a few centimeters to the left or right, they wouldn’t be talking right now. Kate was dead, and he had no idea how Rae was really doing.

“Is she still here?” He asked without thinking.

“She went home. She’ll be here again I’m sure. If you hadn’t noticed she has a knack for healing, this is kind of her area.” Well now he was just being mean. Rex fought to come up with a response but ended up just sinking further into his hospital bed, grunting softly. Cecil pushed himself off of the counter, seemingly ready to evacuate the room, before pausing. His back was still turned away, because of this Rex was unable to make out his expression. “It’s excruciatingly painful, by the way.”

“What is?” Rex asked.

“Healing. She finds it excruciatingly painful, especially when it comes to more serious injuries.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I’m sure you’ll see her around. And I don’t want you to give her any of your usual shit.” The thought hadn’t had the chance to even cross his mind yet. “So, think about that before you try to form another conspiracy against her, yeah?”

“Well, you look like shit. And that’s coming from a guy who looks like this.” Rex gestures to all of himself.

Mark chuckles, “Heard you’re getting a new hand, too.”

“Yeah, lucky me.” Rex pauses for a moment, “How’s Rae?”

“Holding in there.” Mark responds shortly, settling himself on the edge of Rex’s bed.

A few seconds of silence pass between them. Rex runs his fingers absentmindedly over the cool metal encasing his arm, lining over the different ridges in the steel. After Cecil had left Rex had festered for a long while in the kind of person he had been. The kind of person he is.

The kind of person that Cecil feels the need to tell directly not to give the person who saved his life any shit. The kind of person who cheats on his girlfriend multiple times, even after she let him live with her for a year straight. The kind of person who is rightfully never anyone’s first choice for a mission.

He had been a dick. Rex knew he was a dick, often times he let himself relish in it a little. Really just roll in the shit. But, looking back, what had he truly accomplished? Saved a few cities a few times? He hadn’t even done it alone, that credit would have to be divided across multiple different heroes.

It was not enough to be super. A small voice inside his head had whispered it to him for years, but he pushed it down, drowned it out. Told himself he had a right not to be fully accountable for anything. After all the shit he had been through? It’s a miracle he was even still ‘one of the good guys’.

A bullet to the head quickly had that ideation crumpling in on itself. If he had died, no one would remember him for long. And it would be rightfully so.

“You know, when that bullet went through my head, I saw my life flash before my eyes.” He sat up, talking to the back of Mark’s head. “Yeah, that’s always sounded like bullshit to me, too, but…it’s not.” He frowned timidly. “And I didn’t like what I saw. I was such a dick to Kate. To Eve, too. To-” He mutters out your name, running his hand over his face with a groan. “To every woman I’ve ever been with. None of them deserved it. I don’t know why I had to get my brains blown out to see that.”

“What is it about being a superhero, where we go around saving lives, while ruining them at the same time?”

“Aw, Jesus.” Rex sighs, pushing himself up further. “All right, let’s hear it.”

“Hear what?”

“Eh. The reason your face looks all…like that. I don’t know, you know, sad and shit.”

Mark is practically pouting, his eyebrows creased upwards. He sighs before looking away, a hand idly rubbing his knuckles. “I’m not doing too hot in the dating field either.”

“You’re dating that one girl… uh Amber right?”

“I’m actually surprised you know that.” Mark gave him a semi-suspicious look.

“Okay, I can actually listen sometimes, I’m not always clueless.” Rex rolls his eyes, scrunching his nose.

“Yeah, Amber.” He affirms again, “I’m always having to leave her for whatever Cecil needs, or I’m gone for months at a time. I’m flunking out of college; I hardly have time for my best friend-”

“Woah okay, I’m not your therapist, maybe one issue at a time. What are you going to do about Amber?”

Mark lets out a labored breath. “It’s not fair to expect her to wait around, right?” He looks expectantly at Rex, who just stares back before realizing Mark wants a response, and then he just shrugs. “Viltrumites live for hundreds of years. Would it be fair even to waste a few months of her time now, when that could quickly turn to years of her life?”

“That’s assuming you survive your next big fight, Invincible.” Rex snorts, then wipes the smile off of his face at Mark’s scathing look. “Look, having a relationship is difficult even for normal people. And last I checked you’re not. I don’t want to be one of those assholes that tells you ‘if you truly love her, let her go’ or some shit, but,” He pauses. His infatuation with Killdeer was the first thing to spring forward in his mind as he was speaking. She couldn’t stand him; it wasn’t something he could really compare to Mark and Amber. But, in a way, it almost felt like he was disrespecting her by even thinking about her. If he wanted to mend anything between the two of them, he should just leave her alone. He can’t pull some shit like showing up to her apartment tipsy again. “Well, fuck, I guess my point is, do you think that a year from now anything will have changed?”

A beat. “I don’t see how it can…”

“Then maybe that’s your answer right there.”

Mark nods somberly, before slowly turning his gaze back to Rex. “This has been surprisingly insightful…how many painkillers do they have you on?”

“Not enough!” Rex groans, “Shit hurts.”

“Well, thanks, I guess, Rex.” Mark presses his lips together and another small awkward silence passes between them.

“Have you met the newbie?” It was out of the blue, unexpected, even to Rex as he said it.

“Hm?” Mark gave him an odd look. “Shapesmith?”

“No, not him, fuckin’ weirdo. Killdeer. Nurse, healing powers and shit.” He makes a gesture with his hands as if she’s a witch doing voodoo.

“Mmm, no I don’t think so. Why?”

Why had Rex asked? He wasn’t sure. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to talk about her. “Uh, well, I don’t know. You’re talking about Amber and I was trying to think of something equally interesting, you know, for the sake of conversation.”

“And you landed on a new member of the Guardians rather than the fact you’re sitting in a hospital room, with no hand and whatever that is on your head?”

“Okay, first of all, that’s old news, second of all, don’t get sassy with me, I’m missing an arm.”

“I thought that was old news.”

“Don’t push it, Grayson.”

Mark smiles to himself and leans back slightly. “Well, what about them?”

“Ah.” Rex chews on the inside of his cheek. “She’s just, well, she’s been a big topic around the headquarters, I guess.”

“Okay?” Mark raises a brow, cocking his head at Rex.

“Don’t make this fuckin’ weird man-”

“I’m not doing anything-!”

“You’re making me feel weird-!”

“No, I’m not!” Mark laughs, moving to a standing position. “I don’t know what all of this is about, but I bet I can guess.” Rex grumbles in response but doesn’t tell him he’s wrong. “Look man, you’re obviously learning to look back at your actions or- just keep that up. And move slow, or whatever.”

“I made her quit the Guardian’s.” Rex blurted, wincing to himself.

“What?” Mark sighed, his shoulders dropping.

Which led to him sitting back down and Rex spilling completely about everything Mark had missed while he was away. Which Rex realized was a lot now that he was saying it all in quick succession. And none of it was making him look too good.

“Oh.” Mark was looking off into the corner of the room processing. “Well, that’s unique.”

“And on top of all that, Cecil just told me she’s the reason I’m still alive.”

“And I thought me and Amber had issues.”

“Don’t compare this to you and Amber, you and Amber are dating.” Rex groaned.

“This is a lot of drama for two people who aren’t together…You went to her apartment?” Mark squinted at him.

“Ugh.” Rex shrunk further into his bed.

Less than a ten percent chance. He had looked it up the moment Mark left his hospital room. There was a less than ten percent chance that he could have survived a bullet to the brain. It ran over and over in his head as he looked at the magazines Eve had brought for him.

“Oh, hello.” Eve’s voice which hadn’t sounded off for a minute after he told her that Mark and Amber were kaput, snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Hi, sorry, is this a bad time?”

Already? It’s suddenly a bit harder to breathe, his chest constricting tightly even though he couldn’t quite make her out from where Eve was sitting. Killdeer was visiting. She had come to speak with him. Between Mark, Eve, and this new visitor, Rex was starting to wonder if he wasn’t as big of an asshole as he thought. Obviously, he had done something right if anyone was still giving a semblance of a shit.

“You look like shit.”

Huh. Maybe a little less than a semblance. Regardless, the relief he felt at knowing that she would visit was tremendous, more than he expected.

Twenty bucks my ass. There was no way these were worth even five bucks. He was being conned, he could feel it in every bone of his body. But twenty bucks is nothing in the grand scheme of things if it means she’ll keep visiting. He would pay much, much more.

“Does it feel the same?” She’s running a finger over each of his hands. Her skin trailed almost agonizingly gentle over his.

Fuck yes it felt the same. It felt like fucking fire is what it felt like. Uncomfortable burning traveling up his arms directly to his spine. But he didn’t want her to stop, in fact, he couldn’t think of a single thing he wanted less than that specific tingling in this exact moment. “Uh…Yeah pretty- I’d say pretty similar.” His mouth felt dry, and he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

She didn’t pull back, her eyes glued to his hands. He could practically feel his heartbeat edging towards racing. Hopefully, she can’t feel it, with all of her weird powers and shit. Cool fingertips brush over his knuckles, causing his hand to clench against his own wishes. He felt oddly shaky; this wasn’t him at all. Whenever he liked someone, he made a move and he made it quickly. What was holding him back? He didn’t want her to leave. To stop visiting. God, he was losing his touch. At one point he had felt like he could have anyone he wanted. He could talk the talk and had never once been turned down. But with her… He just couldn’t seem to wrap his head around truly wanting her. After everything he had put her through, and his own conflicting feelings.

He could still hear Kate in his head, scolding him for trying to sleep with every woman he came across. He felt like he wasn’t good enough, not worthy. It was a new feeling for him.

He’s grown to respect you. And for him, that sucks.

Rex wasn’t sleeping well. Not that he would admit that to anyone. The last thing he needed was some loser telling him he needed to see a fucking shrink. He had made it through life so far perfectly fine on his own…well, minus the whole asshole thing. But he was managing to get better on his own. Right?

He had stumbled through an apology to Killdeer, it wasn’t one of his finest moments, but he knew he needed to do it. She had been drawing away from him. Which part of him thought was for the best. Another, much louder part, wanted her to never leave his bedside. He was surprisingly content. She listened to every stupid story he dawdled on about, and whenever she asked him something he answered or did as she said right away. He didn’t want to give her any reason to remember how much time she had wasted talking with him.

When she had asked to see his new hand again, and then again after that, he was a little taken aback, but he obliged. This proved to be borderline torture. He could feel her. Every touch, every scrape. He had to force his way through thoughts, constantly talking to try distracting from the feeling. She just hummed quietly, full attention on his hand. And thank god for that. Rex had shifted three times now, drawing one of his legs up higher to lift the blanket with it. As determined as he was not to make things weird between them, his body was definitely reacting to her. Another aspect of the torture. This practically felt like foreplay for Pete’s sake.

If he wasn’t kept awake in a purgatory of tossing and turning thinking about her, he was reliving his worst moments in his sleep. At first, it was just the moments before he had been shot. Every detail of the room was imprinted on his subconscious. Then it started to evolve. Other regrets started to push their way forward, sometimes the person behind the gun was an old target of his. Other times he was the one behind the gun, familiar but blurry faces passing by in front of him.

His most recent dream had ended in Killdeer being the one before him. This time it was different. The others had been alive, begging for their lives. She was silent, facing away. The sound of droplets hitting the floor were clear even after he woke up. He said something, something he couldn’t remember. Maybe for her to look at him, stand up, run, do something. But instead, she started slouching forward, the droplets increasing until they sounded like a waterfall. Rushing, pushing, drowning. Blood was filling the room like a flood, pushing up towards his ankles. He couldn’t move, only could watch in horror. It rose steadily, licking up the legs of his suit, warm, unpleasant. Killdeer who was slouched forward on her knees before the gun only slid forward more and more. The crown of her head slowly became lost as the liquid crept higher.

He woke up holding one of the dingy hospital pillows flesh with his chest. Arms wrapped tightly around it, a sheen of sweat covering him head to toe.

One mission. That’s all he needed. Rex needed to be in it all again, he needed to prove to himself and everyone else that he was capable.

All fine and dandy until a behemoth with tentacles was throwing him straight through a metal storage crate. Which hurts a lot, by the way. At first, it felt like adrenaline, completely normal when a giant Davy Jones akin monster is actively trying to murder you. Then it started to get hard to breathe, hard to aim. The last metal disk Rex threw at it flew right over his shoulder, only helpful by the smoke cloud it left. This offered enough cover for him to slide over another crate, pressing his back firmly to the hard green metal.

“Don’t do this. Come on, come on, don’t do this to me.” He held his manufactured hand by the wrist, trying to force away the tremors. He tried to take a deep breath, filling his chest with oxygen, only for it to be forced out with another tremor. “You’ve done this a hundred times-” Probably not the best time to be having a vocal pep talk. He can hear the giant throwing different crates in search of him.

“Fuck-” He shouldn’t be on a solo mission yet. Joy was right, she was worried, and she was right. Not that he would ever admit that in a million years. His breathing continued to come out in labored heaving; it was becoming harder to focus his vision.

He needed to stop this before he lost control. The last thing he needed was to pass out midbattle, he was better than this.

“You did adequate. Very promising, Rex. A good soldier.” No, not him. The last person he wanted to think about was that prick.

Rex shook the memory of Radcliffe from his mind, searching through memories, anything to take his mind off this.

“You did good work, Rex.” No, not Cecil either.

“I do everything you wish you could. And that’s rich coming from a guy called Rex Splode.” Bulletproof. Less helpful.

Rex pushed a hand up under his goggles, gloved fabric blocking his vision. He was getting more lightheaded, it hurt to breathe.

“Seriously, Rex?” Eve.

“Asshole-” “Prick-”- He could only seem to conjure negative interactions, there was such a multitude to choose from-

“Thank you.” It’s softer, barely audible over the other memories. But it’s enough to catch his full attention. Cold grey ceilings, hardly visible through the shadows of headquarters. Bright blue lighting. His fingers thrummed gently against the steel floor, a melody he hadn’t been able to place in years. “For pushing me out of the way earlier.” He glances up to see the crown of her head. She’s staring up, chest rising slowly in shallow breaths.

“You probably would have been fine anyways…You know, injuries and all.”

“Just because I can heal it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. So still, thank you.”

Rex lets his hand slide down from his eyes, working to take controlled breaths. It’s becoming easier, his hands are still shaking but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to immediately pass out if he stands anymore.

A crash sounds out closer to where he’s sitting, forcing him to stand up. He’s got this. He’s a fucking Guardian. A bullet to the head didn’t even take him out. This won’t be his last fight, and yesterday sure as hell wasn’t the last time he would ever see her. He was sure of that.

“You’re welcome.”

Of course, she didn’t ask him. He just hadn’t expected her to ask Bulletproof of all people. Were they close in some capacity? It doesn’t matter now. The world is traveling by tens of thousands of feet below. A soft snore every few minutes takes him out of the zone, and Rex is tempted to start throwing things at the culprit. He wants to look back, shoot a pointed glare even though Bulletproof isn’t awake to see that. But in doing that he’ll end up looking at her. Something he’s been avoiding doing for at least an hour. He’s actually not sure how long it’s been. It feels like it’s been forever.

The file on their gracious benefactor hung loosely in his hand. Of all people it could have been why did it have to be her? Mune wasn’t even her real name. He doubted that many people still alive knew that though.

A quick glance down revealed that the edges of the file were completely crumpled in his tight grip. So, he disposed of it under the seat in front of him. He’d pick it up later.

He shifted his attention to something else before the unpleasant memories could completely flood back. Jealousy isn’t something entirely foreign to Rex. When he was dating Eve, he constantly would work himself up over every interaction she brought up with another guy. He practically convinced himself, alongside Kate, that Eve was getting with Mark. Another asshole tendency of his that he was working on. The fact that Killdeer had brought up Invincible in a good light several times now wasn’t getting to him. Seriously it wasn’t.

Well, maybe it kind of was.

…

It definitely was, alright? Happy?

Except he knows he has no right to be jealous. The two of them aren’t…well, they’re not anything. Not dating, not- Well he doesn’t know what else, but the point is there’s nothing between him and her.

If he could go back to the night he showed up at her apartment, he wondered if he would have kissed her knowing what he knew now. He had wanted to then, but not in the way he wanted to now. Before he was confused by it, there was attraction, but he never could place quite why. Blamed it on her powers, or even the fact he hadn’t gotten laid in so long. Now it was different. He wanted her. Not just to kiss her, or have some lousy one-night stand. He wanted to be near her, have a true excuse to do things with her now that he was out of the hospital. He wanted to let her trace her touch over his as often as she wanted. He wanted to come back from a mission and sink down onto one of the couches in the rec room next to her while she messaged Cecil about whatever they messaged so much about. He wanted her.

But, he didn’t deserve her. He couldn’t have her. Could he?

“I’m gonna get dressed.” Her voice broke through his thoughts, causing him to jolt slightly.

“Okay.”

“Do you dance, Rex?” A simple, innocent question. One he had known the answer to immediately, of course he didn’t dance. It had never even crossed his mind before tonight. Since the night started, however, it had been near the top of his priorities. Any chance he got between idle small talk he was glancing over at the dance floor, taking mental notes.

Where did the lead put his hands, how did they step, turn, twist? It was overwhelming, but he was determined to get it down-pat. Her question had saved him from having to blunder his way through asking.

And dance they did. The grass was uneven and almost caused Rex to roll an ankle more than once. He felt silly, haphazardly. The hand he had placed on her hip was hard to rip his concentration from. The way he could feel the heat through the silk of her dress, the way she stared at him and followed his lead. In hindsight, if he was so determined to not make things weird maybe he shouldn’t have asked her to dance. Because the only thing he could truly focus on was the way her lips curved around every word, every smile, and every laugh.

“You look…” Don’t cross that line, this is not a casual thing to say. “You look beautiful tonight.” Christ. “By the way.” Once it’s said there is no way to pull the words back in. They hung between the two dancers like fog.

“Don’t tease, I’m not an idiot.” What? He was practically working himself into an aneurism while forcing the words out. And she was just taking it as another one of his jokes. He would have bristled, been upset at how she completely missed his sincerity. How much he had meant it, and how much he had wanted to say it since she first walked into his hospital room. And maybe even before that, but everything before that was far too confusing for him to unravel. Instead of doing any of that, his eyes trailed down her face, the temptation returning once again.

“Tease?” It wasn’t a tease. It was cold, hard fact. He could show her. Show her just how much he meant it, how she makes him feel. Glancing up their eyes meet, he can feel his pulse quicken, burning his veins. A tension falls on the two of them and he has to consciously resist the urge to tighten his grip on her hip.

Her lips parted, to scold, chide, rebuke, something. At least that’s what he expected, but whatever she was going to say died at her lips. Only the sound of the faint music curls around them, providing the smallest semblance of release from the loaded silence that threatened to swallow Rex whole.

He should ask. There’s no way she doesn’t feel it, right? It’s the only thing he can feel, she’s the only thing he can feel. He needs to-

“So, can I get that dance?” Oh, fuck off!

Her hand immediately leaves Rex’s shoulder as she turns to the voice. Some rich-looking asshole, just like every other rich asshole here.

“You said I could have one if you decided to dance, and from the looks of it, you just did.”

Not just did, asshole. Still are. Go away.

“Uh- Yeah, okay, just give me a moment.” He was still holding onto her other hand as she glanced back. Her expression searched his, waiting for…something. But he just stared back, his stomach clenching unpleasantly as she unraveled her grasp from his. As she heads up the stairs she turns back. “Thank you.”

Any possible words die in his throat, he just stares. It’s pathetic. He should joke, quip, something. Say good riddance! I was getting tired of dancing. Even though it would have been a lie. He could have stayed on that grass with you for hours.

A small stretch of silence passes with Rex standing at the bottom of the stairs. He taps his index finger against the thigh of his slacks. Stupid. Just- well it’s just stupid.

Rex walked around the side of the outer wall, the brisk air cutting through his dress shirt. Going back into the ballroom to watch her dance with some other guy was not at the top of his to-do list. Coward. He should have done something, said something. He didn’t even display displeasure at her going off to dance with some other man. He should have-

A glint catches his eye from inside one of the windows, it could have been anything. A guest entering the wrong room looking for the bathroom, a fucking…cat? He doesn’t know, but he gets an uneasy feeling. Continuing forward, he notes on the outside which room it is. A few servers pass him with polite smiles and trays bearing champagne. With the kind of night he’s having, he grabs a glass as they pass. There was another entrance into the house through a door to the kitchen, or a kitchen at least. Several workers sat on another set of stairs leading up to it, smoking cigarettes on their breaks. They paid Rex no mind, easily letting him pass. Once inside he weaved his way past another handful of workers grabbing another glass on his way out, until he was back in the hallway.

Was it four rooms over or five? He quickened his pace, reaching back at his side out of habit to where his various expendables usually were. Of course, he was wearing a different type of suit tonight, so his hand didn’t make contact with anything. A planter resided outside the first door he planned on checking, small decorative rocks laid on top of the soil. Good enough, he grabbed a handful and placed the mostly full champagne glass haphazardly on the rocks, hoping it wouldn’t spill. After a few short strides he is slowly wrapping his hand around the doorknob.

It was nothing, there wasn’t going to be anyone in the room. He was just worked up from whatever weird feelings he was feeling before-

See? Wasn’t that easy?

It’s soft, muffled. Someone had turned on their transmitter.

I have men stationed throughout the house ready to turn this into a blood bath. Get me Mune, alone, in one of the rooms, and we won’t open fire.

Shit. Which line was that coming from? It wasn’t hers, right? His free hand gripped tighter on the rocks within his grasp.

You must know who I am, which means you must know I am not here alone.

His heart sank. Of course it was her. It couldn’t have been Lance or one of his pricks with the bulletproof vests.

Oh, yes.

Rex was already letting go of the handle, ready to sprint into the ballroom.

Then you must know this is futile. You’re bringing guns to a fight where your opponents are atomic bombs. In what world do you get what you want and waltz out of here?

Fuck. The men. The guy said there were men stationed around. Rex saw something in that room. He could have easily seen the reflection of their gear.

I have no intentions of leaving.

Whoever had control of Killdeer’s comms knew his identity. If he went to the ballroom, he’d most likely shoot her, if he had a gun. It would be fucking stupid to try pulling this unarmed. And then he would most likely move on to one of the less super-abled guests. Shit, shit, shit. Why couldn’t he run probabilities like Rudy could?

Shooting me won’t help your case.

So, he has a gun.

It’ll sure hurt though. And eventually, you’ll die, and if not, I’ll have plenty of fun seeing if you can.

Who cares about the safety of the fuckin’ guests, he’s going there, NOW.

How did you-

Static crosses over her words, replaced by the familiar ring of Bulletproof’s, they must be blocking her frequency.

Rex, I see at least one bogey over here. I’m near the west wing. Where are you, man?

Rex stopped mid-sprint, a few feet away from the door he had just been about to investigate. “Fuck- I… I don’t know, this fucking house is nuts.”

Oh, come on! Are you seriously sightseeing right now? You’ve got to be-

“No, I wasn’t fucking sightseeing.” Rex hissed low in response. “I thought I saw something.”

What was it?

“I haven’t checked yet-”

Well fucking get on it! We don’t know how many of these guys there are around.

Rex could hear the music crescendo down the hall, he wasn’t that far, he could follow the music... Instead, he turned back to the door, rolling his shoulders before he walked back up to it, and swung it open.

He could pretend to be another drunk looking for the bathroom, get a leg up on them. It was some kind of sitting room, very dimly lit. Couches with fancy stitching and embroidering were circled around an intricate wooden table. Two men were spread out on in opposite corners, wearing tactical gear similar to Lance’s group before they dressed up.

“Whoops, this isn’t the bathroom-”

One of them is already raising their gun, pointing it directly at him. Not the time, apparently. He charges the rocks, sending them out before him in a controlled explosion. Enough to cause a smoke covering. Now would be an excellent time to have his goggles. Darting behind one of the couches, he tries to listen to where they were after the commotion. Loud boots against the carpet proved to be the only indicator in the already dark room as to where they were located.

One of the men closest to him came up to the couch, Rex couldn’t see where he was but jumped forward at the sound anyways. He collided with the man’s legs, bringing him crashing to the ground, hitting a side table from the sounds of it on the way down. He’s close enough to Rex for him to make out through the slowly clearing smoke that he’s reaching for a knife at his side. Running on pure instinct he pushes the man’s hand up. Forcing the blade into the soft skin under his chin.

Gurgles fill the air around them as the smoke completely dissipates. The other man is standing just a foot or two away, his gun held up. At the sight of his teammate flailing in a pool of his own blood, he hesitates. Enough for Rex to rocket himself up, forcing the gun from the assailant’s grasp. Off balance, they both tumble over the back of one of the couches. Rex fights his way on top, gripping the front of the man’s outfit, then slamming his knuckles into the man’s face. Once, then twice, then a third time, followed by a sickening crack. And for a moment Rex is back in that building, his bloodied arm ramming into the King Lizard’s head. Wiping that snide fuckin’ look off of his face-

A crack, loud and clear. Splitting pain in his side sends him slamming his opposite side into the coffee table. “Fuck!” He draws it out with a shaky inhale. Recovering quickly, he looks up to see a third person entering from the doorway.

She looks around, her eyes locking on the sight of the man now dead and forgotten on the other side of the couch. It’s cool, calculated, her gaze turns back to Rex, and she holds the gun tighter, keeping it trained on him. “Die.”

Well, that’s a comfort. He rolls as fast as he can, another shot embedded in the coffee table behind him. The other guy’s gun is just within his grasp. What are the chances he reaches it in time? His fingertips are brushing against the butt of it, he can hear her moving to where she can aim better.

“Shit-“ He groans, pushing himself up further with his elbow and finally grasping it. He lifted it up just as she was coming into view and-

Hopefully none of this shit was horribly valuable. The blood is never coming out of those cushions.

Rex pushes himself up, sucking air through his teeth as the movement tweaks his fresh wound.

I’ve got two taken down in the west wing.

We took down one near the bedrooms.

Exiting out the door he looked up and down the hall, not sure what he was expecting.

What about Rex? Where’s Rex?

She was okay. The tension in his shoulders lifted briefly as he tried to catch his breath, placing a hand against his side. Another worker was passing by with a platter of drinks headed towards the ballroom.

Does anyone have eyes on Rex?

He panted out each breath, straightening up against the pain blossoming at his side. “What wing is this?”

The worker slows and gives him a confused look which spreads into a knowing smile. “The east wing, sir.” Christ, he think’s your drunk. Rex gives him a tight smile as a gesture of thanks, then waits for the waiter to continue on.

“Got three of those fuckers in the east wing.” He lowers his hand from the comm unit in his ear and lets out a groan, steadying himself against the plant he had grabbed the rocks from. His champagne glass still sitting where he left it.

Author's note: Small change to Rex’s dialogue in the show. Specifically, “to every woman I’ve ever dated” To “every woman I’ve ever been with.” Cause lowkey I head canon that Eve is the only person he’s ever actually dated. Not counting the people he’s slept with. Rex truthers how we feeling tonight?

divider credit: @/ saradika

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spidernuggets · 2 months ago

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Crawling Back to You

Chapter eighteen

Synopsis: This isn’t your first rodeo anymore. You’re growing confident in your abilities, and you know what you’re capable of. Does anyone else? (The Gala Pt. 2)

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Chapter: 18/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: Mild Descriptions of Blood and Wounds

Note: There are two unintentional puns in this chapter. I had a large section of this written out in my notes app for a long while, 😛Ya’ll know exactly what I'm doing here

The other man led you inside, his grip on your hand much rougher than Rex’s had been. You were a few steps away from the assigned dance area when you realized you still had Rex’s coat. “Oh, crap I should probably-” You took a step back pulling the coat off from around your shoulders. It could have been an attempt to go back, to will him to do or say something, you could come back and dance with this guy after.

“Eh, just place it on the table over there, you can give it to him after our dance, okay?”

You nod begrudgingly, obviously not about to get out of this without raising suspicions. So, you follow him onto the dance floor, he takes your hand and places his other on your hip the exact way Rex had, but his touch inspires nothing in you. This whole excursion has returned to being just another job.

“So, what do you do for work?”

“I don’t.” You say it offhandedly, repeating the same charade you had told multiple people tonight when asked the same question. “I have the privilege of not having to work.” You didn’t divulge further, more information than was necessary would come across like rehearsing from a script.

He hums, “Housewife?”

You take a shallow breath, trying to remember to stay in character. “No.”

He hums again, this time it feels almost antagonistic, his hand gripping tighter on yours. “I hear that those who have that kind of privilege have a lot of time for charity work like this. Is that true?”

“I suppose.”

“Charity is so rewarding, don’t you agree? I love to help people in any way I can. If I have time, I even take visits to the hospital, it’s good to provide companion care, is it not?” You nod distractedly, glancing out at the other dancers, as you both shift with the music. “I just wish I could go in and heal every one of them. Do you ever get that feeling?”

You blinked a few times and then turned your gaze back to him, your brow furrowing.

“What?”

“Go ahead, turn on your earpiece so I can talk to them. This is exciting, isn’t it?” His eyes widen on ‘exciting’ and you feel your blood run cold.

“What was it you said your name was?”

“I didn’t, be a good girl and turn it on, yeah?”

You grit your teeth, it was unlikely he was alone. You needed him to reveal who his partners were before you did anything. Reaching your hand up you press down so you are transmitting.

“See? Wasn’t that easy?” He grabs your face and angles your head to talk directly in your ear.

“I have men stationed throughout the house ready to turn this into a blood bath. Get me Mune, alone, in one of the rooms, and we won’t open fire.”

You are met with silence, most likely because they aren’t sure if the man will be able to hear them conversing or not.

“You must know who I am, which means you must know I am not here alone.” You speak, trying to stop the malice from overtaking your tone.

“Oh, yes.”

“Then you must know this is futile. You’re bringing guns to a fight where your opponents are atomic bombs. In what world do you get what you want and waltz out of here?”

“I have no intentions of leaving.” His eyes glinted, and you felt a pressure placed against your abdomen, no doubt a gun of some sort. He obviously didn’t know everything about you.

“Shooting me won’t help your case.” You bite out, the orchestra still playing loudly.

“It’ll sure hurt though.” He presses it firmer against you, his other hand still leading you in the dance you almost forgot you were both partaking in. “And eventually you’ll die, and if not, I’ll have plenty of fun seeing if you can.”

“How did you get those weapons in here? There were screenings on every individual guest.”

“It’s an awfully big house, you’d be surprised how many hiding places there are.”

“So, you came in before the gala, planted the weapons, then came as guests?”

“What is this, detective hour?” He seems to be growing tired of your questions, his gaze flickering over the other people around you, flashing a fake smile.

“No, I just want the facts straight for when the police arrive.” You scowl at him.

“You seem very self-assured-” His words are cut off with a quiet gurgle, the aggravating smirk dying at his lips. You don’t move, watching coldly as his body goes ridged during his attempted statement. The revolver he had pressed against you he pulls back in a jerky movement placing it back into his waistband. His eyes moments before that were cocky and arrogant now shined with fear, confusion.

“Are you feeling okay?” You say it loudly, loud enough for a few couples nearby to look over. But your expression doesn’t reflect any of the concern that seeps through your voice, contempt is the last thing he sees before he shrivels to the ground, leaving your head feeling raw.

Several people look over in concern, and you blink before putting on your best act. “Oh! Sorry! One too many drinks!” You give an apologetic shrug with an awkward laugh. “Could any of you help me move him off the floor?” A few people come by and move him to a corner, laying him down and commenting things along the lines of ‘this isn’t some college frat party’.

You blurt out your apologies and thanks as they walk away, and then hold your hand up to your ear to make sure your earpiece is still running. “This one’s taken care of. Have you located all the gunmen yet?”

A few seconds passed.

I’ve got two taken down in the west wing.

We took down one near the bedrooms.

Bulletproof’s voice then quickly followed by Lance’s both sounded off. The music crescendos louder, causing you to hold a hand over your other ear so you can hear. “What about Rex? Where’s Rex?”

You snap your head back at a loud sound, someone dropping a chair or knocking over one of the cocktail tables, maybe? You could hardly hear it over the bellowing music.

“Does anyone have eyes on Rex?” You paced over to the backdoor to see if he was still standing there, stepping over the stone of the patio and looking out over the garden.

A lengthened silence beats by. With every second you start to feel more and more sick. Just as you open your mouth to repeat yourself another voice calls out over the comms.

Got three of those fuckers in the east wing.

You let out a sigh of relief at the sound of his voice, then rested your hands on your hips, taking a few deep breaths.

Authorities are on their way, bring all of them to the room I debriefed you in. We don’t want the guests to panic. We’re running a sweep for any explosives as we speak.

“I’m going to need some people to come to the ballroom. I can’t pull this guy out myself without drawing a lot of attention.” You head back into the designated area, whispering apologies to people who had come to stare at the man’s unconscious stature.

Sending men your way.

“Thanks.” You turn off your earpiece and finally look down at the man. “Jackass. Couldn’t have waited five more minutes to pull me into this fucking scheme?”

Two men had come to ‘help’ you carry away the leader. When you entered the debriefing room Zandale was standing over five men, all incapacitated in one way or another. Rex was dragging in the last man from his area, and with yours added on it made seven people total.

“Do you know who these people are?” You cross your arms over your torso, feeling far too overdressed to be standing in what felt like a crime scene.

Lance simply shrugged, after barking out a command to one of his men. “Probably someone disgruntled by any number of Dr. Mune’s works. They aren’t the first and it is very unlikely they will be the last.”

Bulletproof takes a few steps towards you, his hands resting on his hips. “Did you get the name of the leader?”

“I didn’t ask.” You shrugged, looking down at him, face relaxed from his state of unconsciousness. You could kick him.

“How did you manage to neutralize him without alerting any of the other guests?” Lance asked, reaching down to pull the man’s revolver from his waistband.

“He must have got overexcited.” You murmured, an awful answer but hopefully with the amount of excitement so far no one would think about it for long. You glanced over at Rex who had settled against the ledge of one of the desks. A pang of guilt flashed over you as you remembered his coat long forgotten, a few rooms away. The feeling was overshadowed as your eyes trailed down to his side. Red tinged the seam of his suit vest, dark towards the center and fanning out lighter around it. “What’s that?” Rex froze as if being caught with his hand in a cookie jar and then followed your line of sight to his side.

“Oh, that’s…uh that’s not mine.” He scratched the side of his face, glancing up at you with a sheepish grin.

“…Really?” You raised a brow at him, quickly closing the gap, your hands coming out to open his vest. Once you were closer you could clearly see ripping in the fabric. An entry wound. “You got shot?”

“Only a little, seriously I’m fucking fine.” He pushes your hands away, leaning back further against the desk as if to evade you.

“Goddamn it, Rex. Let me see it, you’re losing blood.”

“I’ve been through a lot worse, Joy-”

“I swear to god, if you don’t let me assess you-” Rex throws an awkward glance at the people standing behind you, they were probably watching the small commotion, but you didn’t care. He didn’t get to be a martyr right now. “Do we need to go somewhere else?” You whisper the question to him, maybe he’s embarrassed in some kind of way. He took down as many men as the others had combined together. To you, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. But you didn’t care about any of that, if he was injured, which he obviously was, it was your duty to help him.

“Joy.” He breathed out with a laugh, looking at you like you were joking, the smile fading when your expression didn’t falter.

“We’ll be right back.” You turn to the group behind you before grabbing Rex’s hand and practically dragging him out of the room behind you. While searching for a nearby empty room you did not look back or speak to Rex. The initial shock of him being once again injured has worn away into irritation. Not only did he not come to you about it. But he explicitly tried to hide it from you. Not very well, but still, the intention was there.

After passing by a few rooms that you had to back out of with an apology to whatever random people were loitering in, you finally found one that was empty. High shelves lined up the walls and across columns throughout the room. Books with every color spine lining each shelf, accented by different busts and artwork. A library. It was dim, only the light coming in from outside and the light flickering under the door illuminated the area. You pushed down the urge to look around and turned to face Rex, who had been entirely silent for the short journey. He looked surprisingly calm, his expression soft, and his lips slightly parted.

“Okay, I need to see.” You dropped his hand, noting how he held on a few seconds longer. Another thing to think about later. Steady fingers come up to unbutton his vest, pushing it off over his shoulders, then moving to his dress shirt. You can feel his breath on your hands, heavy, uneven. Anxiety fills you with the prospect of him having lost more blood than you thought if he is having this labored of breathing.

Peeling away the white dress shirt you look closer at his wound, pushing your hand against his chest to angle his torso out more. The bullet had ripped through his left lumbar region, no exit wound. “Fuck.” You whispered to yourself, glancing around as if supplies would magically appear. “I don’t have any of my stuff. But- that’s fine, I could do it without, just would have made it a bit easier-”

Rex’s expression tightens as if he is just realizing your intent to heal him, even though you had expressed it earlier. “Don’t.”

“Don’t, what?” Your hand that currently rested splayed on his chest shifts, pulling a hair’s width away.

“I don’t want you to heal me.” His gaze meets you for a few beats, and you feel your defenses start to rise.

“I thought we were over this, Rex.” You bite out the words, emotion lacing your tone. “I thought you were trying to be better.” The edges of your mouth curls into an expression close to disdain.

“I am.” His brows lift in hurt as if your word’s stinging him.

“Really? Cause this is the same shit I’ve had to deal with since the beginning. Always thinking about yourself, and your- your stupid pride, ego-” You step back, placing your hands on your hips.

“I’m not always thinking about myself, this isn’t about me-!” Your name leaves his mouth at the end of the exclamation. He holds his hands out in exasperation before running them through his short hair, a groan forced from his lips as the movement tweaks his injury.

“How, Rex? How isn’t this about you?”

He pauses, his eyes dropping to the floor.

“How!”

“It’s about you! Alright?” His tone is low, in a whisper, but he still spits it out with effort.

You blink a few times, confusion flickering across your features. Your arms drop from where they were perched at your hips. “What?”

“I know! I know what it takes for you to heal people, I know about the strain, I know about the pain, all of it.” He runs a hand over his face, then continues. “I’m not having you put yourself through that for something this menial.”

Menial? He was fucking shot! “Don’t worry about me-” You start, holding an accusatory finger out at him.

“I’m going to worry about you, okay!” He practically snarls it out.

You take a step back, not out of fear, but out of habit. Any time you had ever experienced confrontation like this you had given in, backed down. You weren’t going to give in as easily this time.

“I’m not some junior varsity hero, Rex. I’m a fucking Guardian, same as you.” The statement leaves your tongue in a bitter tone.

“Fuck, I know that I know. This has nothing to do with your abilities or-” His tone softens, and he takes a step forward, looking almost apologetic.

“It’s always been about my fucking abilities with you, Rex. When has it not?” You snap before he can finish his statement, stepping forward so that you are completely back up to him, entirely in his space. “If it wasn’t about my abilities, it was about me, fundamentally! I’m either a glorified nurse or an incompetent- fucking-” You stutter, trying to piece anything together through your anger, “I don’t know, a fucking idiot I suppose!”

“I don’t think you’re-”

“If you truly respected me, as a hero, as a Guardian, as your fucking friend then this wouldn’t be a question.” You hiss it out in a hushed tone as you hear people walk by the room, then continue once they are gone. “But you don’t, and I don’t know why.” You trail off in a mutter. Both of you are right up against each other, if you tried to step forward you would be standing on his toes. “What do you want from me, Rex? What is it? ‘Cause I’m growing tired of this dance.”

“I want-” He looks away sighing heavily, then continues in a lower tone. “I want you…”

There’s a pause, you wait for him to finish his thought, irritation still bubbling under the surface.

“You want me…?” You urge him forward through his thoughts.

He looks at you, and for a moment your anger fades minutely. It is just the two of you. The man who pointed out different types of countertops in a home design magazine, voice etched with excitement. The man who volunteered to go on this mission with you, who helped you zip your dress, who danced with you in the grass. The man you were falling for. But he was also the man who spent months actively working against you. Scoffing out your name every time you were brought up by another member. He was changing, you were sure of it, you’d seen the proof. As angry as you were now, you didn’t hate him. But he obviously still held resentment towards you, no matter how small. Or this wouldn’t be a discussion.

“I want you.” He looked down at you, brow furrowed tightly.

“What, Rex, you want me to what?” Frustration oozes through your words as you look up at him.

“Fucking-” He takes a step back, running his hands over his face again. “I want you to not be in fucking pain because of me.” He sucks on his teeth, looking out past you.

You sigh heavily, shaking your head. “Fine, Rex. Do what you want. I don’t care.” You hold your hands up to metaphorically wash your hands of the situation. “You should see if Lance has anything to dress that though. Or it’s going to be a long night.” You turn and leave him standing alone in the library.

When you return to the debriefing room there are several new faces, all sporting officer’s uniforms. Dr. Mune was standing talking to one, while others brought stretchers for the dead and wounded. It was a miracle to you how no one from the gala had seen the commotion and started spreading the word. Mune catches sight of you and holds a hand up for you to wait for her. She continues with a quick back-and-forth to the officer, then approaches you.

“They always ruin my fun; I have to bring the event to a close in order for everything to be cleaned up for the brunch tomorrow. Apparently, Mr. Sloane made quite a mess in one of the dining rooms.” One of the dining rooms. Her tone lowers, “I liked how you dealt with Robbie. Very discrete, Merlin.”

You squinted at her, how much had Cecil really relayed to her about you? “Who was he?”

“A ghost from my past, like they always are.” She looks down through her spectacles over to where the man is being loaded onto a stretcher. “This particular one actually worked at the GDA. I’m surprised Mr. Sloane didn’t recognize him. They were in the same program.”

“Program?” You shook your head.

“Mm, Robbie was a few years ahead I suppose, one of the first trials. The chip didn’t take with him.”

You looked at her closer, your brows knitted closely together. “I’m sorry, I’m not following.”

“Hm, I’m surprised you didn’t know. Have you never read Mr. Sloane’s files?”

You cringed at the memory, the general upset that had been caused when it was revealed you had. “Yes, but I only skimmed most of them, and there was quite a bit redacted. I mostly only had access to the extent of other members’ powers, or their drawbacks.”

“Well, my dear Merlin. Mr. Sloane only has his abilities because of my work. I designed the neural chip that gives him his…well, I suppose you could say his spark.” She flutters her hands in an over-the-top gesture.

“He wasn’t born with them?” You knew that there were heroes around who only had powers because of genetic modification, but you hadn’t thought it was very common.

She paused to look at you, taking off her spectacles. “To be truly born with naturally occurring powers is very rare. In all my years I could count on one hand the number I know of that were flukes.”

“I guess I would understand why so many people would want to gain them artificially.” You nod, the sound of the door opening causing you to look back. Rex had finally decided to enter, not looking at you and making a B-line to Lance. Hopefully to ask for medical attention, or at least a medipack.

“I don’t.” She states bluntly. “Just because a curse has its ups, doesn’t change that at the end of the day, it is still just a curse.”

“If that’s how you view it, why did you work to bring it about?” Your brows raise a centimeter, analyzing her reaction.

“Sometimes it takes a few decades to truly see the effect of your work.” Her tone was tired, her attention was shifted to where Rex was standing talking to Lance.

“Would you go back and undo it all?”

She sighs gently. “I have no way of knowing the outcome would be better if I did that, so no. But I wish I could go back and tell myself how it ends.”

You nodded quietly, watching as the last body was removed from the room. Smears of blood streaked across the center of the floor where some of them had been dragged slightly into the pile. With each day that passed, you understood her more and more.

With all the bodies gone, and the explosive sweep coming back clear it was time to nudge the guests towards leaving. Dr. Mune gave a tasteful speech about having the class to know when the host wants you to leave but doesn’t want to say it. She reminded them all that they were expected at brunch the morning after, telling them all to board at a hotel she owned down the road. How rich was this lady? She had gone around inviting select people to stay with her in her guest rooms, weaving her way through the crowd somehow faster than you could keep up with. When you had the chance, you gathered up Rex’s coat you had left at a table close to the dance floor.

You saw him after about an hour, he was wearing a new shirt. Lance must have helped him patch his side up because there was no visible wound through the white linen. Irritating was the main emotion that coursed through you at the sight of him, but it quickly gave way to worry. He had survived perfectly his entire life without you worrying about him, but you couldn’t help it. You gave a shit about Rex Splode- or Rex Sloane as you had come to find out tonight.

Somewhere internally, the you from a month ago groaned heavily.

“Shall I have Gareth show you all to your room?” Mune’s voice poked through your thought process.

“Hm?” You wrenched your gaze from the back of Rex’s head, to give her a quizzical look.

“You three will be staying here, yes?”

“Oh, I figured we would just stay at a hotel or something.”

“The only hotel for miles is mine, and it is completely booked.” She shakes her hands at you like it’s no big deal. “I have plenty of space-” She looked over at one of the groups she had just invited to stay as well. “Well, I have space.” She corrects.

“Oh, then sure?”

“Good, Gareth has already brought your things upstairs to the room.”

“Our things?”

“Cecil sent you all outfits for the brunch tomorrow. You never know if there will be a second wave.”

“No, I mean our things, as in all to the same room?”

“There’s only so much space darling, even in a house like this.” She waves down a couple that is about to escape without her talking to them and marches over, shouting greetings.

Oh boy.

Gareth seemed to materialize out of thin air next to you. “Shall I show you to your room?”

You ran a hand over your face with a sigh, already mentally preparing for the argument that was about to happen the moment you all reached the room. Maybe it was set up for three people, and you were dreading nothing.

Gareth rounded the three of you up, Bulletproof made several comments about being ready to knock out for the night, which went without response. All three of you were feeling the exhaustion without needing to mention it aloud.

At the top of two different sets of stairs, you all found yourself in a long hall, each set of doors looking identical. The only things serving as landmarks were the different portraits on the wall. The one next to your door portrayed a medieval knight on horseback appearing to be leaving for battle. A woman with golden hair was tying a red fabric around his arm. Mune was nothing if not consistent at least.

Gareth opened the door for the three of you, holding his hand out so you could go inside. After stepping in you looked back to see Bulletproof and Rex loitering outside the door.

“Well, see you in the morning.” Bulletproof waves awkwardly. Rex doesn’t meet your eyes.

“You are all staying in this room tonight, Mr. Randolph.” Gareth states humorlessly, still holding the door open.

Both of them seem to cock their heads to the side in unison, glancing inside as if expecting to see a row of beds. They both only furrowed their brows tighter after seeing the large bed dead center and two couches placed in various different positions in the expanse of the room.

“Oh, hell no.” Zandale steps in to look at the room closer, his gaze flittering over it once again, and landing on his luggage set next to a red upholstered couch. “Seriously?”

Gareth doesn’t respond, just continues holding his hand out until Rex begrudgingly steps in.

You take in the room fully for yourself, sighing once again before speaking. “I guess I’ll take the other couch?”

Author's note: God can these two get along for more than two seconds I’m going to blow my brains out (I did this to myself) Extra points if you know exactly what painting I was describing

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101 @0ut0fsweets @sugaramped @spidernuggets @sweet-cuddlebug @ohmysoultakemysoul @lapisbwub @velovicy @liquideyes request to be tagged for new parts!

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spidernuggets · 2 months ago

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ミ★ everything i wanted ★彡

summary: you loved the domestic life you had grown accustomed to with rex. but something about it didn't quite feel real. pairing: rex splode x f reader word count: 350 warnings: angst, i guess. insert shrugging emoji. ao3 link playlist previous work

You were singing to yourself as you finished rinsing the dishes from that night’s dinner. It was something you had heard in passing and couldn’t get out of your head. When all of a sudden you felt a warm presence behind you. It was Rex. He pressed his chin onto your shoulder. Pressing soft, fluttering kisses to the nape of your neck.

The two of you had only just finished moving into your apartment. Not even a month ago. And it showed. Every room lacking any form of decor or basic furniture. Which Rex swore he was going to fix. He had had everything picked out for your dream apartment, back when moving in together seemed so far away.

Rex slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you further and further away from the sink. And you moved your left arm to wrap around his head. Running your hand through his hair. You were so absorbed in the moment, that you didn’t even realize how strange the room surrounding you looked. Or how you had never actually seen it before. And that this wasn’t your home.

“C’mon babe, I love you, but you gotta wake up.”

And then everything just faded away, around you. And you finally realized that this wasn’t real.

You shot out of your bed in a cold sweat. Staring blankly at the wall across from you, as you slowly came to your senses. All of that was just a dream. The domesticity, and the simplicity of it all were just entirely the figment of your imagination.

Because none of that was possible anymore. Because Rex was dead. You buried him just last week. And now you would never get to feel the touch of his lips, or the warmth of his hands. And you would never get to move in together like you had always planned to. The thought was just a cruel trick your mind was trying to play on you.

He was all you had ever wanted in your life. And now he was gone. Before your lives together had barely even got the chance to begin.

author's note: sorry that this is so short. not that i've ever written anything that long, but ya'll get it. this is very cliche. and i try my best to avoid being cliche, however i could not get this idea out of my head after listening to everything i wanted by billie eilish (hence the title) hope ya'll enjoyed anyway. let me know any thoughts, please i crave interaction.

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spidernuggets · 2 months ago

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ms gurl really said SLOW burn this shit so YUMMY I NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS RAAAHHAHAHH 👹👹👹👹👹👹

Crawling Back to You

Chapter seventeen

Synopsis: You, Rex, and Bulletproof are working as a private security detail for a high-end donor’s Gala. Your job is to blend in and mingle, which is hard to do when you want nothing more than to stay near Rex the whole evening.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Chapter: 17/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: None, but the tension is crazy, eat up

Note: Kind of includes an OC like character, so warning for that? No one in the canon universe fit the need for the part so I just made up someone. Sorry if you hate added noncanon characters, I needed someone to be the donor in order to progress this part of the story. This chapter (plus part two of it) is also extremely self-indulgent so I hope you enjoy anyways!

“You think if all the Guardians pooled their money together, we could afford a place like that?” Bulletproof stepped out in front of you and Rex.

“I didn’t even think anything could be that big.” You stated, feeling mildly overwhelmed by the looming estate before you.

“I can think of something-” Rex snickered and then seemed to immediately regret it. “Sorry-”

“Do we just…walk up?” You continued, ignoring Rex, taking a cautious step forward.

“I thought we were arriving early, why are there so many planes already here?” Bulletproof commented, looking back at the large array that lined up with the Guardian’s jet.

“You guys are thinking way too critically about this, I came to party, and that’s what I’m going to do.” Rex, walks ahead of both of you, holding his hands intertwined behind his head.

“We’re here to work, Rex.” You reminded him in a dry tone, but even for you, the anticipation was rising.

To call the estate before you a house, would be a falsehood, to call it a mansion still felt untrue, but closer. It was practically a castle. High-reaching spires jutted out towards the heavens, accented perfectly by the pink tone of an oncoming sunset. Various chimneys contrasted against the sharp peaks with their rectangular structure. As you got closer you could somehow clearly see where the land stopped, and the backyard began. There were various stone walkways, surrounded by meticulously upkept greenery. A fountain laid dead center, although to call it simply a fountain also felt like it was falling short. It was more like a pond, or a small lake, with marble enclosing its sides. A stone pillar in the center served as a base for a small waterfall. Upon approach you could feel the cool spray against your skin.

The backdoor was formed of overexaggerated double wooden doors, pushed further into the dark outer stone wall. There was a covered walkway against the house, vines trailed down from the columns and covered the archways. You figured it was a stylistic choice rather than the owner letting them grow due to lack of care. The whole area was far too well-upkept for it to have been missed. You imagined what they might look like in season and wondered if they would bloom or not. Either way, the whole place was breathtaking.

The large arched windows revealed bright but still soft, yellow lighting from inside. From just a few yards out you could see the busy bustle from inside, all the people within your view wearing identical black suits. Caterers.

“This place is insane.” You whispered, not meant for either of your companions. Stopping, you looked back to take the garden in, as well as the land that spread out for miles. Further off behind the makeshift aircraft hangar, you could make out trees. You did a small spin looking around as far as you could before your vision was stopped by the walls of the building. This entire area was closed off by a forest.

You wanted to laugh, giggle, do something. You couldn’t really believe where you were, well, you didn’t really know where you were to begin with. But to you, it felt like you had walked into a storybook. Any twisting feeling you had felt on the journey here was completely gone and replaced by the buzz of excitement.

After doing another semi-spin to look at it all again you realized Rex was standing quietly, his hands shoved into his pant pockets, staring at you. Clearing your throat you dropped your shit-eating grin and walked forward a few paces, leaving him behind. You didn’t need his negativity ruining this for you. Even as you walked up to the back entrance there was an extra pep in your step.

“Do we knock-?” Zandale’s question was cut off by heavy creaking as the large double doors began to shift on their hinges. It took a few seconds longer than necessary, which made you shoot a small chuckle in Rex’s direction, snickering at the over-the-top feeling of it all.

A single man stood in the center of the doorway. He was wearing a tuxedo, with a dark bowtie, his features seemingly stuck in a look of displeasure.

A moment.

“So-” Rex starts.

“Dr. Mune wishes to meet with you all before guests arrive, please, follow me.” He did not wait, quickly taking off at a pace that felt a lot like running to you. He did not seem to share in your breathless sentiment, easily spouting out facts about different art pieces you passed as if he were giving a tour. Every room you walked through, or rather sprinted through, seemed to have more and more luxurious décor. Complex lighting fixtures both on the wall and in the form of chandeliers, pearlescent columns, and waxed floors. You tried to take as many mental notes as possible to add to your persistent country home daydream. Although, granite columns might be going a little overboard.

“God, this place is a little…” Rex whispered from next to you. He looked far less pleased than you felt. In fact, he even looked a little sour, a firm scowl displayed across his features.

Before you could quietly question him on it the man who had been leading you all slid gracefully to a stop. You did this less gracefully, not expecting it and jerking back a few feet. As fancy as your dress was, you still had the mannerisms of someone more…normal? Is that the way to put it?

It was hard to think that all of this could be viewed as normal for anyone.

“Dr. Mune, your Guardians are here.”

Cheesy. But you were grinning like an idiot anyway. This was already better than any stakeout you had ever experienced the misfortune of being bored out of your mind on.

A woman, tall but well filled out stood next to two workers. She was wearing half-moon spectacles, a pearl-encrusted chain connecting them down to her neck. There was a general no-nonsense air to her. A tweed skirt reached down to her knees, which was met by a pair of black tights. She was wearing a matching jacket with a white flowy blouse underneath. One of the workers uttered a few hushed tones to her, which she responded to with the same frequency. Her maroon-lined lips formed around every syllable. With a nod, the two workers left and she turned her attention to your group.

“Ah, the guests of honor.” She smiles; the action accentuating wrinkles across her face. She couldn’t be much younger than Cecil. However, unlike Cecil, she still had luxurious hair, black with only a few white streaks accenting through it.

The three of you were not the most competent when it came to introductions, but luckily the man who had led you spoke first. “I have given them the tour-” It took you maybe three minutes to reach where you were now, how would that be a proper tour? “And I told Lance to prepare the earpieces.”

“Oh, we’ve already got some.” You start, taking an apprehensive step forward.

“We’ve got jammers placed out all over.” The woman speaks. “You won’t be able to reach each other. My security team has some, that way you can keep them up to date as the night moves forward, yes?”

“If you have a security detail already, why do you need us?” Rex scoffs out. It’s a valid question, but the brash execution has you cringing.

She doesn’t falter in her smile or demeanor. “Because, Mr. Sloane, threats of this magnitude don’t always end well under the careful watch of the everyday man, do they?”

Mr. Sloane? You turn slowly to look at him. His jaw is clenched, but he doesn’t say anything else.

“Why are you getting threats?” Bulletproof asked, folding his arms.

“Were you not all briefed in some capacity?" She straightens out her jacket, moving forward towards the small semicircle of people in front of her. “I am not very well-liked by a multitude of crowds. Although-” She turns her attention to the man who had brought you. “Who has the largest price on my head right now?”

“That would be Mister Liu, ma’am.”

“He still upset about that?” She laughed but did not divulge what she was laughing about. “My point is, it could be anyone or anything. Liu doesn’t think it is worth wasting his own time, but he sends assassins now and again.” She flutters her hand like she’s discussing the afternoon weather. “You don’t have to watch me specifically, as I said I have my own detail. However, our most recent threat was remarked as…What was it again, Gareth?”

“I believe they claimed that they would ‘scar the earth so heavily that no one could build in the same area for two thousand years’, ma’am.”

“Ah, yes.”

You paused, deciding if it would be appropriate for you to speak. A glancing over at Rex provides you with no help or comfort in the answer as he was still staring forward with an unpleasant expression. “Excuse me, Dr. Mune-”

“Mune is fine.”

“Mune,” You repeat, “If you are receiving threats like this, should you really be throwing an event like this? Isn’t it kind of…tempting fate?”

She blinks a few times at you, and you feel like the floor is being pulled out from under you.

“My dear, if I heeded every threat nothing would ever get done. This one isn’t half as colorful as the ones I usually receive, but,” She sighs, folding her hands, “I received word of movement that concerns me, so I would rather be cautious.”

“How would you like us to start?”

She explains her estate in detail, promising an escort will show your way to each place once she is done. Throughout she seems exceedingly sure that nothing will happen, which puts you less at ease every time she says it. At the end of her presentation, she tells the three of you to ‘enjoy yourselves’. Rex scoffs but doesn’t say anything else.

“Gareth will take you to get your earpieces and meet the team. I’d like you to stay behind if you please.” You looked up and she was gesturing towards you. Ah, crap.

“We should all stick together-” Rex starts, taking an almost indistinguishable sidestep towards you.

“I don’t bite, Mr. Sloane. And if you wish to indeed, blend, you shouldn’t all stick together, yes?” Her smile remains unwavering, as she ushers him away.

You give him a shrug taking a few steps towards her, when a hand grabs your wrist. Glancing back, you give him an odd look, mouthing a small ‘what?’.

He doesn’t say anything but imperceptibly shakes his head. Now what the hell are you supposed to do with that? This is a job, a duty, you can’t just tell your employer ‘No, I won’t stay behind to discuss anything with you’.

“I’ll catch up.” You reassure, but his reaction was doing nothing to calm any of your nerves.

His eyes almost seem to darken a shade but he just nods, slipping your wrist from his grip and following close behind Zandale and Gareth who were already a good yard or two away.

“Cecil has talked about you.” Dr. Mune starts, turning to a worker who walked up with a book of some sort. She didn’t seem interested in addressing Rex’s hesitation.

“Yeah? Hopefully okay things.”

“Okay is putting it mildly.” She chuckles, before shaking her head at the worker and then turns her full attention to you. “You’re the poster child for everything Cecil wants in a hero. Obedience, self-sufficiency, discretion.” She takes off her glasses, letting them hang down around her neck. “He couldn’t have made a better soldier if he crafted one himself.”

You hummed, not sure exactly what to say to this. Part of you was pleased that Cecil spoke well of you or even spoke of you at all. The other part was concerned as to where this was headed.

“I like you.” She affirms, glancing up and down your figure. “I think we’ll get along just fine.” She holds out her arm for you to take, which you realize after staring at her for a few moments. “You shall be my Merlin.”

What on earth is this woman on about? “Merlin? As in King Arthur?” You ask it with a polite scoff in the way you appease someone who just spoke utter nonsense to you.

“That’s right.” She pats your arm while leading you in the direction the others went. “I took an interest in the Arthurian legend a few decades ago. Security humors me and it pleases me to see everyone fit into their roles.”

“And you think I would be the Merlin in your story?”

“Yes.” She says it like it was a ridiculous question. Maybe the papers Donald gave you all should have mentioned she was about two days away from madness. “Mr. Randolph strikes me as a Bedivere, do you agree?”

“I can’t say I know exactly who that is, Mune.”

She sighs dramatically. “No one ever realizes my true genius.”

“You worked a lot in the body enhancement side of the GDA, didn’t you?” The question slips past your lips the moment there is a lull in conversation.

“I suppose, I don’t work in it anymore, but I hear they still use my blueprints. Or at least I get the royalty check every month in the mail.” She laughs off-handedly. It feels like you have both been walking for ages, passing door after door, the sound of your individual shoes clicking against the floors.

“How long did you work there?”

“Longer than you’ve been alive. I worked there when I was still young, full of life, you know the sob story.” She pauses in her step. “The GDA hasn’t always been the place it is now.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t get genetically modified superheroes without casualties.” Dr. Mune continues walking, pulling you with her. “How is Mr. Sloane doing?”

The question takes you off guard. “Oh, Rex?” She nods and you continue, “Pretty good I’d say? He’s excellent at what he does.”

“Oh, I know.” The first true sense of distaste flows off of her. “He always was.” Between this and Rex grabbing your arm earlier, you were questioning what their history was. “He’s a Gawain.” She states suddenly before the two of you pull up to the final door. She let go of your arm and gestured for you to go inside. “My Lancelot will tell you everything you need to know. I do hope you are able to enjoy your evening.” She says your last name, a small twinkle in her eye that made you wonder for a moment if she planted a bomb herself just for her own entertainment.

“Lancelot?” You ask, quirking your brow up slightly.

“It’s cute, right?” She smiles, more to herself than to you, before turning to leave you there.

“But Lancelot betrays Arthur.” You cock your head, and she slows to a stop, a smile still spread across her wrinkled features.

“Good thing I’m not Arthur.”

“Then who are you?”

“Excalibur.”

You couldn’t quite decide how you felt about her. She was odd, but she was sure of herself. After so many years and so many accomplishments maybe you would be too. A part of you liked her, the idea of her interacting with Cecil was one that intrigued you deeply. But you were put off on behalf of Rex. He obviously didn’t trust her, and she even conceded to them having some kind of history. Alongside keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, you were also determined to figure out who Mune thought Arthur was.

People began to arrive while Lance, affectionately called Lancelot by Dr. Mune, familiarizes you all with the equipment. He was very no-nonsense, speaking in as brief of statements as he could. Once he felt confident that the three of you were set, he had Gareth come back and take you all to the ballroom, while repeating one last time to notify him if any of you saw anything.

The ballroom was just as meticulously decorated as every other room you had seen so far. Gold plated chandeliers hung from a ceiling painted with a beautiful mural. A night sky with ancient figures all wearing roman attire. The floor itself was wooden, waxed over with something to protect it from spills. A stage sat towards the front, where artists and their instruments were gathered. Tables of varying sizes speckled the area, and there was a bar at each side of the room for refreshments.

The expansive area filled quickly, people from all walks of life, all well dressed in the most obnoxious way. Even still, you could feel your excitement returning. The three of you had decided to stay together for the first few minutes, then slowly peel off into the other parts of the ballroom. Zandale had already made his way over to the bar, speaking with an older man in a suit that looked like it cost more than a year’s rent.

“So,” You looked over at Rex, who had been suspiciously quiet since you rejoined the group. “What’s the deal with you and Mune?”

“There’s no deal.” He says shortly, then sucks his teeth and continues. “She worked at the GDA when I was a kid, I’ve met her a few times.”

“That was a pretty strong reaction for just a few times.” You say it softly, your eyes scanning the room behind him. You doubted that anything would happen this early in the evening, but you still wanted to keep an eye out.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly the happiest point in my life.” Rex grits out, his gaze following the other side of the room behind you.

“Is she not trustworthy?” You wait a moment, but when he doesn’t answer you poke his arm. “Rex, this is serious. We’ve got to get through this job, I need to know if I should be watching her as well as everyone else.”

He rubs his arm absentmindedly where you had poked him. “She’s trustworthy.” He concedes begrudgingly. “She’s practically Cecil in a different fucking font.”

“I don’t mind Cecil.” You mutter, returning to look at a couple that walked through the doors.

“I don’t mind Cecil either, but I don’t doubt that he’d sacrifice anyone of us if he thought it was for the greater good.”

“It’s the job.” You respond simply, but you know he’s probably right. “Hey, by the way, did you know apparently that you are ‘Sir Gawain?’ to Mune?” You raise a brow with a soft smirk.

“She’s still doing that shit?” He sighed. “At least I’m not Mordred anymore. When I was younger, she sat me down to tell me exactly why that was who I was. Not great to hear one of the more prominent adult figures in your life compare you to the bad guy of a kid’s fairytale.”

“I thought Morgana was the bad guy?”

“She is too, but Mordred kills Arthur so- ah shit I don’t even know.” He raps his fingers against the cocktail table the two of you are standing at.

“We’re you a troublesome kid of something? Kill any kings?” You laugh, but your smile falters slightly when Rex does not.

“Uh-”

Are you two going to split up or stand there talking away all evening?

Bulletproof’s voice sounded out over the comms, interrupting Rex before he could finish. He puts a hand to his temple and stays standing next to you for a moment, his fingers still tapping on the table.

“See you soon?” You finally say, giving him a small smile.

He looks at you and blinks a few times before curtly nodding and heading in towards a group stationed behind you.

“Shit.” You whisper to yourself, looking down at your hands as they spread across the dark tablecloth. A glance back to the bar shows Zandale still chatting with the elderly man, but you catch how his gaze flits across the room every few seconds.

“Hello.” An unfamiliar voice fills the space around your table from where Rex had just been standing. A man, most likely in his early to mid-thirties stood before you. He was wearing a light grey suit, with a black bowtie.

“Hi.” You say, giving him a polite smile, glancing behind him to keep an eye on the door.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“No, just people watching.”

“You came to a house of this magnitude and you people watch? You could do that anywhere.” He grins.

“Well, maybe I like to look at all the ridiculous outfits.” Low risk, high reward, He either agrees with you and it’s fine, or he disagrees and leaves you alone.

“You definitely won’t find a shortage of that here. For a gala that is supposed to have dancing, there is a surprising lack of ballgowns.”

“Did you leave yours at home?” You glanced back to where Rex had been, his back was to you as he talked to a tall slender woman with a fur coat. You wanted to know more about his experience with Mune, you were practically counting down the minutes until it would be appropriate to walk over to him again. The woman laughed and you felt yourself stand up a little straighter, what were they talking about? It couldn’t be that funny. You practically felt your mood sour at the sight, turning back to the guy who had welcomed himself to your table.

“Touche.” He says, picking up his wine glass you hadn’t realized he had set down. “You’ll have to save me a dance.”

“Oh, I’m not sure I will be dancing.” You state quickly,

“Well, if you change your mind, save me one.” He lifted his glass to you and walked past you to another table where two people were standing.

You could feel your excitement fading once again. Tonight was going to be a long night if every interaction was like that. And it was going to be even longer if you kept turning to watch Rex seemingly hitting it off with everyone he talked to.

The evening was running without a hitch. You managed to make perfectly fine small talk with a variety of people while only conceding to a few drinks. Not that they had time to work their magic with your elevated blood processing. About forty-five minutes in, Mune entered the room, silence slowly falling over the different groups that is only broken by a few whispers.

“I hope you all donate as much as you drink up my fine wines.” The crowd laughs, but Mune seems more put out by them than actually making a joke. “The orchestra will be starting up in the next few minutes to start up the dancing, so I expect every one of you to visit the floor at least once. And if you don’t want to now, have a drink until you do.”

You would need a lot more than one drink to convince you to step out there, even if you didn’t have practically an immunity to alcohol as it was.

You nodded your goodbyes to a couple you had been talking with and spotted Bulletproof loitering around an empty cocktail table.

“Have you seen anything?” You ask in a low town as you take your place next to him.

“I mean, some idiot is definitely trying to steal a few pieces of the silverware but that’s about all the malicious intent I have seen so far.”

“It’s surprising how many of these people hate each other, and how easily they announce it to complete strangers.” You sigh, putting your hands on your hips and stretching out your back.

“You owe me so big for this shit.” Bulletproof grumbles, straightening out his tie.

“What, you’re not even having a bit of fun? You should go dance or something.” You snicker, turning so that your elbows are resting on the cocktail table behind you.

“I hate dances, I hate high society, and I’m starting to hate you.”

“Me?”

“You should have just asked Rex to join, why am I even here?” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply but I do actually like your company on missions Zandale.” You pause before shifting your hand in the air and adding with a smile: “Somewhat.”

“Am I wrong though? You asked me to come to bait Rex into coming didn’t you.”

“No, I asked you to come because I didn’t want to come alone, and you’re one of the only people on the team who can stand me.” You sigh heavily, giving a polite smile to someone as they walk by.

“Well, Rex-”

“Not everything is about Rex!” You say a little louder than you meant to, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “I couldn’t ask him, okay? He shouldn’t even be on the field; he was just shot in the head for Pete’s sake.”

“It’s the job.” You cringe at your words being recited back to you.

“I know.” You mutter gently. “But… I want better for him. I want better for Rae. Hell, even Kate should have had better.”

“You can’t protect him.” Zandale shrugs, but his voice is understanding. “Or any of them. We all knew the risks. Do you?”

You look up and out into the crowd, searching silently. Verdant eyes meet you during your search. He’s standing in a circle of people but angled just right so that you can see him between the shoulders of two people in front of him. You angle your head to the side to see him better between the two people. He mirrors the gesture, his lips downturned slightly before they grow into a full boyish grin. You smile back at him and then his attention is taken away from you as someone speaks to him.

“It was easier when he was mean to me.” You murmur bitterly, still watching Rex who appeared to be listening intently to what someone was saying.

“If you want, I could let him know, maybe even help him pull together another scheme to try and get you kicked out.”

“Ooh, enticing offer.”

Bulletproof looked back to where you were looking and sighed when he saw Rex. “You should go talk to him, ask him to dance, something. This thing sucks but it sucks more with your obvious ogling passing over me. I’m gonna barf.”

“I’m not ogling! I was watching someone else over there…” You feign a gasp. “Oh my god! He’s got a gun!” You look back at Zandale, “I’m working, see?”

“You both are insufferable to be around.”

“In a good way?”

“What-? No! How can you be insufferable in a good way?”

Bulletproof heads back to the bar, and you decide to look around outside. Huge double glass doors lead directly from the ballroom into the garden you had seen earlier. Attendees stand outside chatting and smoking cigarettes at several different parts of the patio area. Cocktail tables are set up sparsely all the way out and up to the fountain.

The smell of smoke and crisp night air fills your lungs, it is much cooler outside. A couple passes you, leaving an open table for you to stand at that easily surveys the area.

“I think I’ve missed my calling.” You don’t have to turn to know who it is, an uncontrollable smile crossing your face.

“Yeah?”

“I think I should have been a fucking con artist; these people love me.” Rex moves in next to you, breathing the night air in deeply. “I could do fundraisers, get ridiculous amounts of cash, and then just pocket it.”

“Let me know how that goes.” You snort, swiveling your head to face him.

“Seen anything?” It’s unnecessary, an excuse to keep talking. Even if you don’t fully believe Rae in her insistence that he shares your feelings you can recognize this from a mile away. You had said the same thing to Bulletproof earlier, but that had been to keep things light. Rex wasn’t one for small talk like that.

“Nope, Zandale saw someone stealing some silverware, but it’s been pretty calm, you?”

“Nothing as exciting as that.” He scoffs, his gaze trailing over the garden. You turn so that your back is to the table, leaning on your elbows again while watching the glittering lights from inside. Faint orchestral music can be heard from all over the garden. Couples dance, some with less grace than others, but all of them seem to be putting the most effort possible into it.

A small shiver travels up your spine at the chill of the night air. “God, a little cold out here, right?” More small talk.

Without hesitation Rex is pulling off his coat jacket. He brushed it out with his hand as if it made any difference and held it out to you.

“Oh, I’m not sure I really need-” He pulls his hand back almost imperceptibly and you let out a breath. “Okay.”

He places the coat over your shoulders after you step away from the table. It’s not horribly warm but at least it stops the breeze, Worse than the breeze is the fact that it smells like him. You hadn’t even realized you knew his smell until now, which was something you’d unpack later.

“Do you dance, Rex?” The question leaves your lips and almost instantaneously you can feel Rex tense beside you.

“No.” He responds curtly.

You just nod, not sure if you expected him to say something else. Your hands distractedly play with the edges of the tablecloth,

“Would you like to dance?”

“What? No.” You laugh awkwardly, still intently watching the pairs spin from behind the glass doors.

“I’m not asking if you want to dance, I’m asking if you would dance.” You look over at him and he had shifted, his hand outstretched to you. An actual invitation. “With me.”

“You don’t dance.” You respond softly, your gaze flickering down to his hand.

“I don’t.” He repeats, that boyish grin returning to his face. “Could I have this dance?”

You glance back to the crowd of dancers, then snap your gaze back to him. His emerald gaze is soft and nonjudgemental. You weren’t sure you even knew how to dance. You’d get out there and probably look like a fool in front of everyone. Rex would get irritated because you stepped on his foot one too many times, it was sure to be a disaster-

“You may.” The affirmation seemed to tie an invisible line between the two of you, as your hand met his. He doesn’t lead you into the ballroom though, rather he leads you down the steps into the grass. Most of the people who had left for smoke breaks had slowly trickled back inside. Besides a few stragglers, the two of you were alone.

“Afraid of the crowd?” You joke lightly, as he takes your hand and intertwined your fingers, his other hand coming to rest gently on your hip. Like he was holding it almost painstakingly away from direct contact.

“Maybe I don’t want to share.” He said it offhand as if it didn’t make your brain short-circuit. Weeks of casual conversation and visits to his hospital room, and this was the boldest thing he had said to you. It made you feel warm, fuzzy.

“Oh.” Was all you could manage. Rex took the lead, instructing you to follow his moves. “Where did you learn to dance?”

“Oh, well, I didn’t.” He says honestly. “I just watched the people inside for a long time. It’s fairly simple.”

“You were analyzing the people dancing?” You tried not to outwardly laugh, but your expression was giving you away. “Why?”

A beat of silence passes between you, and you listen to the cues of the loud orchestra rendered quieter by distance.

“I wanted to know what I was doing when we danced.” He admitted quietly, his hand on your hip twitching faintly as he finally let it rest fully against you. The feeling of his hand on you has your head spinning so much that you almost don’t register what he just admitted.

“You were planning on dancing with me?”

“Did I have much choice?”

“Yes, obviously!”

He chuckles lightly. “I’d be a fucking idiot not to take the opportunity.”

“Have you been drinking?” His hand tightens slightly against yours as you take your hand off his shoulder to pull his jacket back over your own once you start to feel it slide.

“Not much. Definitely not as much as Bulletproof, dude doesn’t seem to remember this isn’t a paid vacation.”

You scoff. “I feel bad for asking him to come, I just didn’t want to come alone.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?” The air between the two of you feels like it’s buzzing at the question, and your eyes lock with his.

“Did you want me to?”

“Yes.” His admission is quiet, whispered like it’s a secret. It makes your mouth feel dry, and your body feels even more responsive to his touch than you had thought was possible.

“I’d hoped you would come.”

“Then I guess we both got what we wanted.” A tense silence falls over the two of you as you glide across the grass, a small laugh leaving you as your heel gets caught on the uneven ground and you trip. You can hear the music winding down for the end of the dance, and both of your movements slow.

“You look…” He hesitates, biting the inside of his lip and looking away from your gaze. “You look beautiful tonight. By the way.”

“Don’t tease, I’m not an idiot.” You roll your eyes, but his words make you feel mushy, your guard dropping more by the second.

“Tease?” He cocks his head slightly, but his gaze doesn’t meet yours, it is settled further down your face. The realization sends an electric shock up your spine, into your fingertips.

He slowly looks up to your stare, his eyes half-lidded, and his pupils blown. Oh.

You open your mouth to retort, or really say anything, convinced you were imagining this. He looked down at the action, leaning in a few millimeters, but not enough to close the distance in any meaningful way. He seemed to be watching your reaction, waiting to see you react poorly, push him away, call him out. But you didn’t do any of that. You just waited, your eye darting over his face to watch every micro expression. His throat bobbed but he didn’t lean forward anymore, his brow furrowing.

“So, can I get that dance?” A voice cracks through the tension that had been building to a head, causing Rex to pull back entirely, his attention turning to the person speaking. His hand leaves your hip, but he doesn’t immediately drop your hand.

Mind racing you look up at who was maybe one of the people you would want to see least in the world right now. The man with the grey suit from earlier. He’s leaning against the archway, his arms folded over his chest. “You said I could have one if you decided to dance, and from the looks of it you just did.”

“Uh…” You run your free hand through your hair, willing your thoughts to quiet down so you can think. “Yeah, okay, just give me a moment.”

“The next song’s gonna start.” The man states, an insufferable grin spreading across his face.

You sigh and look at Rex, he looks back, his expression unreadable. Maybe you had misread the whole situation. Imagined that he might kiss you. You slid your fingers from his grasp and headed up the stairs back onto the patio area. “Thank you.” You called back to Rex, who was still standing where you left him.

Author's Note: Fun fact, the idea of Mune comes from a concept I have for a Cecil x reader one-shot. We will see if I ever write it :P

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101 @0ut0fsweets @sugaramped @spidernuggets @sweet-cuddlebug @ohmysoultakemysoul @lapisbwub @velovicy request to be tagged for new parts!

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spidernuggets · 2 months ago

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i hope rex and reader find an empty bathroom in the mansion in the next chapter wink wink wink

Crawling Back to You

Chapter sixteen

Synopsis: You realize a bit more about how you feel towards Rex that extends past just being teammates. Just in time for a specialized mission you’re the only one interested in going on.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Chapter: 16/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: None

Note: I loved reading your guy's shocked comments last time, you're all so funny. This chapter and the next were both going to be one chapter but this one is already so long it would probably end up being 10k+ words 😭 Then the chapter after the next one will be a Rex POV. Reblogs, comments, likes, taglist requests are all very appreciated!!

You don’t like him. Not like that, that’s ridiculous. You could hardly stand him a few days ago! It wasn’t even just dislike, you hated him. And he hated you. He spent months trying to get rid of you. This is ridiculous, more than ridiculous it’s… well, it’s just plain idiotic. You barely like him enough to visit his room! And that’s just because you feel bad. Sure, he seems to be making an effort of sorts to be better, but that does not erase months of heartache and borderline misery. Heartache isn’t the right word, that implies that he has some kind of effect on your heart, which he does not.

But he was at least semi-good company after long shifts at the hospital. Who else did you have? Rae didn’t want to entertain you constantly, and she was still asleep most of the day because of her healing process. So, who else did you have other than the asshole? You just liked to see his steady improvement; it was akin to a social experiment. Nothing more. And as far as social experiments went at least he was somewhat good company. You liked the banter as much as you hated to admit it. And you liked how much he seemed to concede to what you were saying. A stark contrast to the Rex who had fought you on everything. If you asked to see his new hand, he would let you see it without hesitation. If you told him to stop talking while you were trying to focus on a message that just popped up from Cecil, he would instantly shut up. It was like he had been trained almost overnight. Sure, he could be funny, and surprisingly insightful but that doesn’t mean anything either.

At this very moment, he’s telling you how annoyed he is at his hair. Which as of now was starting to grow out from the close-cut buzz he had received during surgery. It was a little scruffy, not nearly long enough to be weighed down, so it just stuck out in different directions. He looked dumb in an endearing sort of way. For the first part of your visit, he just sat with one hand on his head as if it would hide it from you. Chunks stuck up through his fingers, and he somehow made it look perfectly natural for someone to sit like that. Until he needed to talk about something with more animation, and then his annoyance at how it looked was forgotten. You didn’t think it looked that bad, it was very different from his usual look, but not bad. It looked soft-

Ah, shit.

You were starting to like Rex.

It was hard enough to look him in the eye after your dream the other night. It was embarrassing honestly. You might have self-indulged a little, asking Rex to inspect his hand for fully no reason other than because you wanted to. He didn’t even ask why, just offered it and kept talking.

“Cecil’s talking about getting me to be field ready after today-”

You hummed quietly, only half listening after your sudden realization. God, Rae was going to have a field day with this.

“I hope my suit is all fixed up, you know? If not I guess I could call Eve or something cause the amount of damage it had I doubt I could patch it up-” His left hand was still nudged towards you, palm up, even though you were no longer examining it.

“Wait, you said Cecil wants you back on the field?” You dropped your thought process for a moment, finally focusing fully on him.

“Uh, yeah.” He said with a small nod. “I’m getting discharged today, they said I’m basically good to go-”

“I don’t think ‘basically’ isn’t very assuring.” You frowned.

He tilted his head a little at you, a sly smile ghosting over his lips. “You worried about me, nurse?”

Normally you would roll your eyes, quickly followed by an exasperated groan. But now, you could swear the temperature of the room went up a few degrees. “No, I’m worried that if you get put on a mission, you’ll fuck it up. You should be fully healed before going out again.” Harsh, maybe harsher than it needed to be. But you didn’t want him reading into the way you had just looked at him.

“First of all, fucking ouch. Second of all, if you’re so worked up about it, why not just check me yourself?” He holds his right hand out to where you sit on the recliner.

You glance down at his hand before snapping your gaze back up to him. “Well, if the doctors say you’re good to go-”

He barks out a laugh. “What is going on right now?”

“They are professionals, they know what they’re doing.” Your eyes jerk down to his hand for a second again, which he is still holding out to you.

“You just said-” Rex raises a brow, but before he can finish you interrupt.

“Oh, piss off, fine.” You grab his hand a little rougher than you meant to. You can feel him tense from the gesture which sends a feeling down your spine. Good or bad, you couldn’t quite tell, but you felt it. You close your eyes, focusing on whether there are any remaining injuries, and surprisingly enough, besides a few left-over bruises he seems fairly fine. You let go after healing the measly remainder, “See? You’re all set.”

“See?” Rex repeats, confusion lacing his tone. “See what? I wasn’t the one raising doubts,” He looks to the other side of the room as if looking for an imaginary camera. “What-?”

“Gotta stop living in the past Rex, keep moving forward.” You stand up swiftly, preparing to leave. Should you feel bad for borderline gaslighting the poor guy? Maybe. But you were feeling your own confusion as it was.

“Wait.” Rex’s voice calls out as you go to grab your coat. “Are you still coming around the HQ?”

“Yep, still work there.” You folded your coat over your arm.

“So, I’ll see you around?” He’s wincing slightly as if he’s being too vulnerable, and he has to express it externally.

“Yes.” You affirm, your expression softening. “I know where you live, don’t worry.” You give him a small smile.

“I know where you live too.” He says back.

“Great, and I know where I live, and you know where you live, so we’ve got that covered.” Not sure how to fully end this exchange, you take a few steps back to exit the room.

Rex opens his mouth as if to say something, but quickly snaps it shut, gripping the sheets of his hospital bed tightly. His jaw ticks as he looks off to the side, and you decide you need to get out of there now before you make a fool of yourself.

“See you later, Rex!” You call out as you step out of the room.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You’re entering Rae’s room; some trashy reality TV show is playing on the screen. Rae herself is working on some breakfast, obviously not enjoying it much. “Hello?” She raises a brow at you as you close the door with an unintentional slam.

“Hi.” You respond as you sink into the chair.

“Did someone die?” She eats a spoonful of her food, shuddering as she swallows.

“Worse.” You respond dramatically, your hands covering your face.

“They’re making you move into The Guardian’s HQ?”

“Ohhh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You peeked through your index and middle finger to look at her.

“Eh, not really. Then I can’t escape to your apartment for drink nights. So, if it’s not that then what is it?”

“You’re going to laugh.”

“Probably.”

“It’s so ridiculous.”

“Come on, are you being paid by the word?”

“Rex.” You close your fingers, feeling your face heat up again.

“Of course.” Giggles sound off from Rae’s direction as soon as you say it, not needing to ask another clarifying question. “I knew this was coming.”

“How?” You tried not to sound extremely pathetic, but it still came out in a half whine. “I couldn’t stand him!”

“You brought him a bottle after you kicked his ass, constantly looked at him when he was around, talked about him when I was over-” She starts counting out on her fingers.

“You’re the one who brought him up when you came over!” You exclaim.

“Because I knew you wanted to talk about him!”

“He has been the major cause of any drama or problem in my life, of course I’d want to talk about that. That doesn’t mean I liked him!” You held your hands out in an animated fashion as you spoke.

“Oh no, you definitely didn’t like him. But you thought about him all the time, didn’t you?”

“Ugh, you’re not making me feel better.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to worry about it being one-sided.” She finally ditched the food, pushing it away with a sour face.

“What?” You slouch more in the chair, swiveling to face her.

“Every bit of energy you’ve taken up talking, or complaining-or whatever, about him, he’s done like tenfold over you. He’s obsessed.”

You sigh and roll your eyes, somehow sinking further down. “I wish I had your level of delusion, Rae.”

“Call me delusional all you want, give it a few days, weeks.” She pauses and looks at you. “Or months, given the sluggish pace you two have been moving. I might be dead by then with the likes of this job.”

“Oh boy.”

Rae takes the pause to turn more towards you, letting out a groan at the exertion which has you shooting up even though she has no intentions of letting you help. “So, what made you finally realize?”

“Are you sure I can’t help in some way?” You rub your knuckles absentmindedly.

“Stop changing the subject, help me by giving the details.”

You sigh for what must have been the millionth time since entering the room. “I had…a dream.”

“Ooh, the scandal!”

“Shut up.” Pause. “Yeah, I mean kind of.”

“Call me the moment he shows up at your apartment looking like a lost puppy, Bulletproof is going to owe me so much money.”

“I really hope you’re joking.”

“No offense, but since when did we take orders from you, Donald? Where is Cecil?”

“This isn’t orders, it’s a prospect job.” Donald responded with a cool air.

He was always good at taking the shit everyone gave him. It made you feel for him more than most.

A few days have passed since you last saw Rex at the hospital. Somehow the two of you just couldn’t seem to coincide at the headquarters. It was frustrating, and even more frustrating than the lack of his presence in your life, was the fact that it frustrated you in the first place. You had walked by instinct to his room at the hospital multiple times the day after he left just to be greeted by sterile air and the smell of various detergents used to clean the area. The disappointment that filled you with the sight of it was not lost on you.

Right now, you finally saw him. The Guardians were assembled for some ‘special’ mission. Donald had gathered you all on Cecil’s behalf, it had all been very vague. Every member was present minus Rae, who was still recovering, and now going through physical therapy. And Kate, who was well…dead.

The memory of the fallen member had its effect on you just like every other mistake you had made. In order to be productive, both as an individual and as a hero, you had to push it away every time it entered your mind. You could wallow or you could act. You choose to act.

“A job? I thought we already had jobs. You know, being that we are Guardians and all.” Rex’s voice sounded out from the other side of the group, causing you to shift your attention. He was wearing his suit, and from the state of it he had recently been in a fight. His headpiece was pushed back but his goggles were perched on top of his head, his short hair poking up around it. You clenched your jaw tightly, he should be on vacation, having a break, or I don’t know, in therapy? He almost died. There’s no way that he came back from that completely fine. In that case, maybe you should be in therapy too, the number of times you’ve kind of almost died. But that’s only kind of so you’re obviously exempt. Rex shifted slightly, his line of sight landing on you, which sent you looking back at Donald again with no idea how long you’d been staring.

“This is technically out of Guardian jurisdiction, but an important donor has asked us specifically for undercover security detail.”

“Wait, we’ve been asked to be someone’s glorified security guards? Isn’t that a bit below our pay grade?” Bulletproof sounds off from right next to you.

“There are plenty of other heroes around, do you need a portfolio that you could send to him? I still have one from when I was running tryouts for the new team.” Rudy input a bit further down the line.

You glanced over before adding your own contribution, “Donor? Aren’t we government-run? How do we have donors?”

“They have asked specifically for members from The Guardians. You can technically refuse, but it wouldn’t be without repercussions.” Donald focuses on you. “There are a select few donors that contribute to the GDA and other operations, which entails all of you. Makes for more funds for renovations after damages that occur after Guardian missions.”

It makes sense, kind of. Cecil made a comment to you once about how much it costs to use his teleportation device, and with how much upkeep the Guardians themselves take just from missions, you can’t imagine it is in any way cheap. But donors?

“It would be a small detail, two or three. The person of interest has received a few concerning terroristic threats and wants to be sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Everything, as in?” Amanda questions.

“It’s a fundraiser, a gala-”

“A dance? This is ridiculous.” Immortal interjects, scoffing at Donald. “We are the Guardians of the Globe, not some dollar store rent-a-cop business.”

A few voices intertwine, speaking out all at once, mostly sounding disgruntled, displeased. On one level you understood their reservations. This was not the kind of thing any of you dealt with. Stakeouts? Sure. Life-threatening last-minute situations? Of course. A money-raising ball with the off chance of terrorism? Not as much.

Rex’s voice was surprisingly not one of those you heard. You tried to subtly look over at him, just to see that he was already looking right at you. Seemingly gauging your reaction. After looking away so suddenly earlier you would be pushing your luck doing it again right now. There was nothing else you’d rather do than break this scathing contact, but you just looked at him. And he looked back, his pale green gaze washing over you. Internally, you were trying to decide how long an acceptable amount of time would be to look at him, giving him a small smile. You didn’t have to wonder for long, because he broke the eye contact first. His attention turned to Immortal who was saying something about none of them partaking in this “obsolete distraction”.

“I’ll do it.” Before you fully thought it through the affirmation passed your lips. You weren’t really sure what the big deal was. So, what, it’s not some city-leveling threat. It almost sounded like fun, even exciting. You would be able to dress up, play a part, improvise. It would be a nice change of scenery.

Immortal sighed heavily. “You can have her. But we can’t spare anyone of importance.”

Give me a fucking break. You closed your eyes, letting out a controlled breath before turning to Bulletproof. “Come with me.” You whispered.

“Oh, hell no. I don’t want to have to dress up for some dance. No way.” He whispered back, not turning his head.

“Please! It would be at least a few days away from this place. It could be like a vacation.” You hiss, determined to get someone to go with you. Bulletproof was nice enough, and you knew he would be professional, which you couldn’t say for other members.

And you wouldn’t dare ask Rex.

“Ugh.” Bulletproof grumbled quietly. “I’ll go too.” He said loud enough for everyone else to hear.

Donald nodded, giving you what you swore must have been a look of appreciation, but with the glasses, you just couldn’t tell.

The Immortal grunted in displeasure but didn’t comment, folding his arms.

“I’ll also go.”

The whole group turns their attention to the voice that spoke from the other side of the room.

“What? I’d never say no to a party, you guys should know that by now.” Rex expressed with a composed tone.

“We can’t spare both you and Bulletproof.” Immortal said gruffly, turning to Donald. “Won’t just one person do?”

He couldn’t even use your name. Your expression betrayed how much this was getting under your skin, but you couldn’t seem to return to indifference.

“Technically, only two members are needed-” Donald starts,

“If something happens Bulletproof can just fucking fly back-or something, right?” Rex cuts in, drawing attention back to him.

“Technically-” Bulletproof begins, holding a hand up to his chin.

“Great. Then it sounds like we’re set.” Rex finishes and you catch his eye for a moment, mouthing a small ‘thank you’, to which he briskly nods, looking back at the Immortal.

“Very well.” Immortal bites out, leaving the conversation entirely, followed closely by Black Sampson.

“Shall I too go on this adventure?” Shapesmith asks, which is immediately shut down but a hand on the shoulder from Bulletproof and a shake of the head.

“You will each receive a detailed briefing later today by handout.” Donald explains to the three of you that agreed to attend. “The Gala is located on the donor’s personal land in northern Montana. The morning after will consist of a special guest brunch which you all will be attending as well. There will be rooming for you there as they want you on scene all night long just in case. And it would also be easier on resources to keep you all there.”

“Who is this person?” You inquire, Donald has not said anything specific this whole conversation other than where this dance would take place, and that the mystery person was a donor for the GDA.

“That will be in the handout you receive.” He stated concisely.

“Why all the secrecy?” Rex furrows his brow, folding his arms.

“Discretion is involved regarding every donor.” Donald responds, straightening his tie. “The gala is tomorrow night, you will all be flown in tomorrow afternoon, outfits and identities will be assigned to you.”

Bulletproof looked exceptionally put out, Rex looked like he was trying to solve long division in his head, and you? Well, you were borderline ecstatic.

You would never get used to using a private jet. After so long flying commercially, all the space felt like heaven. Your back didn’t start aching after the first hour, you could stand up and stretch your legs, even more you could write an essay about the bathroom. The other times you had traveled in the Guardian-affiliated-jet it had been the whole team. Now it was just you, Bulletproof, and, worst of all, Rex.

The carpet was a crisp maroon, the rest of the interior was a sterile white. Which you thought sharply contrasted with the Guardians of the Globe headquarters, that consisted mostly of aluminum tones. The walls of the plane’s interior were accented with mahogany plating, something you couldn’t decide if you thought was tacky or classy. The opinion changed every mission.

Any excitement at the prospect of being in semi-close quarters with Rex again was quickly drowned out by Rex and Bulletproof incessantly bickering.

“I’m just saying I still think you could have come up with a more inspired name.”

“I’m about to be inspired to knock your teeth out.” Bulletproof spit back.

You didn’t get between them, eventually they would both wear themselves out.

The clouds outside your window hung far below. Clustered together, forming wool-like patterns. For a moment you imagined what it would be like to surf on it. Then you looked back at the handout Donald had provided you each with. The three of you were meant to be covert, blend in. You were each free to use your own names, as apparently most of these people were not horribly well-informed. However, you each had been assigned backstories. You were a philanthropist by blood, having inherited a section of the oil industry. Rex was a wildlife activist who had traveled all over the world. Zandale was meant to be a journalist who was writing about the event for Time Magazine. Hopefully, there wasn’t someone there actually from Time Magazine, but you guessed that Donald already checked the guest list for that.

When you first read through it you had mentioned to the other two that you thought it was odd that Rex was the person who had been all over, rather than Zandale, who could fly.

“I have been all over.” Rex had said defensively.

“What? When?” You had scoffed.

“Just…well, a while ago, I don’t fucking know.” The tension in the room had skyrocketed for reasons you weren’t sure of, so you didn’t ask further.

The donor was someone named Dr. Mune. Apparently, the doctor was a genius. Having created many of the lifesaving measures the GDA is still using today. One of those included the brand-new hand Rex was situated with. You wish you could have seen Rex’s reaction to that information. Would it make him work harder on the mission? Or did he feel indifferent to it? It made you feel more connected to the job; the new hand was nothing short of a work of art. Memories of how it felt against your touch flood your vision, sending electricity down your spine.

“Joy?” You turned as Rex said your nickname, feeling annoyance at the sound of it after it had been used so long as an insult. Or at least that was how you had formerly perceived it.

You hummed in response, waiting for him to speak.

“Well, what do you think?” Rex said, tilting his head.

“I think you’re both extremely annoying.”

“God, I already know that. Focus! Whose name is better?”

They both looked at you expectantly. It was weird to see Bulletproof, or rather Zandale, without his goggles on.

“Do I have to take a vote?” You sighed heavily, turning back to the window.

“Yes.” They responded in unison.

“I like Invincible’s name most probably.”

“That was not one of the options but thank you for reminding us of your crush.” Rex retorted, a hint of bitterness lacing his words.

You scoffed, turning back towards them, ready to correct him, only to hear Zandale let out a laugh. Your gaze snapped to him, eyes narrowing. He was pursing his lips and purposefully not looking at either of you. Shit. Rae hadn’t been joking. Great.

“What?” Rex looked at him too, his brow drawing together tensely.

He bit the corner of his upper lip, looking up at you first then at Rex, then back and forth a few times. GREAT.

“How do you know I don’t have the hots for Bulletproof here, hm?” You panicked, you had to say anything to get him to get off Zandale’s obvious trail.

This caused them both to turn their attention to you. “What?” They said in unison again, which made you laugh.

“God, you two are like Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum, I’m surprised you don’t get along better.”

Rex shook his head while holding his hands up as if putting away all of this information to deal with later. “Okay, can you just answer the original question?”

You hum again, you could be honest, or you could really mess with Rex. Unfortunately for Rex… “Honestly, probably Bulletproof.”

“Suck it!” Zandale shoots up out of his seat, doing some kind of air-pump gesture.

“You- you’re lying! She’s fucking lying don’t listen to her!” Rex holds his hands out in distraught, watching as Bulletproof had his own little celebration.

For a brief moment, you made eye contact with him, smiling the cheesiest grin. His annoyed expression softened as he sucked on his teeth. For that small moment, it felt like it was just the two of you. Your smile shrunk into something more genuine, gentler. And for some reason, you waved. It was small, you hardly lifted your hand. His gaze dropped to it, and a small smile ghosted over his lips before he returned the action. His free hand gripping the armrest tightly.

Bulletproof had nodded off, his head rested against the edge of the window next to his seat. You were thankful more than anything he didn’t snore. He had already changed into his tuxedo for the night, it bunched up at his chest while he slouched against it. Someone, somewhere in high society would have cried at the sight.

You and Rex hadn’t changed yet. Rex exclaimed that he wanted to remain a free man as long as possible, and you thought it would be more exciting to dress up closer to landing time. Your stomach was already starting to twist unpleasantly each time the pilot announced the amount of time until arrival. It was similar to your first mission, fresh, and unfamiliar. A good portion of your stomach aches revolved around glances to the other side of the plane at your teammate. After the conversation had died down, he hadn’t looked in your direction once. You would have felt hurt by it, wondered if he was starting to hate you again. But it felt too charged, too intentional. The old Rex wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot a glare in your direction. This was nothing like that.

You would glance over at him from time to time, his gaze was on his lap, and had been for almost an hour, his hands clasped together, left thumb tapping the tip of his right one. You were positive he could see you somewhat, because every time you looked over his jaw clenched.

We will be making our descent in forty-five minutes.

“I’m gonna get dressed.” You whisper so as to not wake up Zandale while rising out of your seat. Rex practically jumps out of his seat at the broken silence.

He clears his throat. “Okay.”

What was that? “Are you okay?” You grab the garment bag containing your dress, and the shoe box next to it from the overhead rack.

Rex nods, letting out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, obviously, I just forgot you were here.”

“You forgot I was here?” You raised a brow, holding the garment bag over your shoulder as you turned to look at him.

“What? I’ve got a lot on my mind. Whole…mission and everything.”

“Okay, weirdo.” You laugh, moving towards the nose of the plane where the restroom is located.

Once inside, you pulled the dress out. It was a silky material- well, it probably was silk now that you thought about it. You would have to thank Donald for whatever strings he had pulled to make it your favorite color. The dress was sleeveless, with a mock neckline. It was fairly simple, the end of the dress reached down to your ankles. The shoes had a few inches of heel to them, which made you hope there would not be any hitches in the night, as you’d have to ditch them the moment you needed to sprint anywhere.

After getting it all situated and neatly folding your streetwear you started to pull the zipper up on the back of your dress, only for it to get to a point on your back you couldn’t reach.

A few beats of silence passed before you tried reaching your hand over your shoulder to get it, with no success.

You were not going to be able to do it on your own. How had women for decades zipped their dresses alone? Should you take it off, zip it, and try to pull it over your head? If it ripped in any way you were royally screwed. With a defeated sigh, you grabbed your stuff, put your hand out towards the door, and slowly pushed it up.

Rex was standing in the aisle, pushing his show box back into the overhead space. He had gotten dressed at the same time as you. Got dressed is a loose way of putting it. If someone could spin their way into clothing, you imagine they would look like Rex did now.

“You’re going to wrinkle it.” You put your things down in the first seat you walked by, straightening out the front of your dress absentmindedly as you made your way to him.

“I don’t think the shoes are going to wrinkle-” Rex started with a scoff before he closed his mouth from the scathing look you gave him and…something else.

“The suit, jackass.” You try not to smile, as you finally reach him. “This is supposed to be buttoned- you missed one of your shirt buttons.” You point out, the end of his dress shirt lopsided at the bottom. “Your shirt is also meant to be tucked in. Didn’t you see how Zandale looked?” You hold your hands out offering to help but he brushes you off, undoing his shirt himself with a groan.

“Since when were you two on a first-name basis?” He mumbled, working his way down them.

“Since I started treating him like a human being, so always.” You roll your eyes at him, folding your arms as you wait for him to catch up.

Did you forget he was, for lack of a more delicate way to put it, completely and totally built? No. You had seen his torso before, you had spent the better part of a half-hour with your hand pressed to it, healing him after a wound you had inflicted. But this wasn’t like that time. Then, you had been focused on the shame you had felt for causing the injury in the first place. Now, you were a bystander. Waiting to tell him how to properly wear his suit.

At first, you watched him, the way his hands flexed with each button. How the white linen of his shirt accented his chest underneath, which was becoming more and more visible. The way his chest rose and fell subtly with each inaudible huff. You eventually had to look away, determined to look at anything that wasn’t the warm tone of his skin.

His hands caught slightly on the last button, and he muttered something about ‘not having to put up with this shit’ as if he wasn’t the one to put it on wrong in the first place. “So, I just-?” He started from the bottom, lining each hole up to its corresponding button. He paused after a few, glancing up at you as if checking he was doing it right.

“Yep.” Your voice cracked in the worst way, forcing you to clear your throat as inconspicuously as possible. “Have you never worn a button-up?” Anything to get your mind off the fact you were blushing right now based on how warm you were feeling.

“You don’t really get the opportunity much in this business. Only time it’s ever come up was for funerals. The only one I’ve ever considered going to was for the old GDA director. But I didn’t end up going so…” He pauses for a moment, his thumb rubbing a few times over the material. “This good?” He asks, holding his hands up so you can see.

“Yeah, that’s good.” You respond softly. “Now you’ve got to tuck it in.” A breath passes as he does as you say. “What was he like?” You aren’t sure if you should ask, but you do any ways.

He stops what he’s doing and looks up at you. Making direct eye contact for the first time since your wave earlier. “The director?” A small look of confusion spreads over his features, clearly not thinking you would ask further.

“Yeah, I’ve never heard anything about him.” You tighten your arms closer over your torso, nibbling on the inside of your cheek.

“Oh, well-” He continues tucking his shirt in, “He was, well he was an asshole is what he was. If you think Cecil is uncaring, you should have seen Director Radcliffe.”

Even from the way Rex called him by his title rather than his first name like Cecil, you could feel the difference in relationship. “Were you around him a lot?”

“Yeah.” Rex said softly. “Okay, so I button this up then or do I leave it open?” He gestured to his suit vest.

You file away that conversation for later, not wanting to push him further than he was comfortable with. “Yes, you button that.”

“Do I tuck it in?”

“No.”

“What about this?”

“Wait, where’s your tie?”

Rex looks around for a moment, his hands suspended out partially as he looks around. “It was…ah, here.” He holds it up triumphantly after grabbing it from where it lay crumpled a few seats down. It was the exact same shade as your dress, in the same silky texture. You wanted to sigh. You were going to look like prom dates.

“I’m guessing you don’t know how to tie it?”

Rex looks down at it for a split second before looking back at you. “Do I really need it?”

“Yes. You will stand out immediately. This whole thing is supposed to be undercover, remember?” You hold your hand out for him to hand it to you.

“You know how to tie it?” He looks at you with suspicion, as if you’re trying to pull a fast one.

“Yes, now will you let me help you?” He looks down at it for a moment, then begrudgingly gives it. “I learned in the hospital, I had this one patient who never let me heal him, but he always wanted to wear a tie.” You start as you signal for him to bend down, he does so without convincing and you hook it around his neck, angling it so it would rest under his upturned collar. “He never wore a suit or anything, but he insisted on wearing one over his gown. The first day I was there, I had no clue. He got really mad, huffed, puffed, the whole act. Told me he never wanted to see me again unless I learned how to tie a tie.” You looped it, “When I got back to my apartment, I was so frustrated. I swore I was going to quit at the hospital, quit with Cecil, everything. I was scared to join the Guardians, and I didn’t think I was ready-”

“You were scared to join the Guardians?” Rex interrupted; a quick glance up revealed that he was staring at you intently. You returned your eyes to your work, ignoring the rekindled heat that spread across your face.

“Don’t interrupt. Anyways, I was so mad. I picked up my phone to call Cecil, I was done. And then I got distracted. I opened a tutorial on how to tie a tie, then another. And soon enough I had watched way more than I needed, and I was sure if I tried again I could do it.”

“And did you?”

“No.” You laughed, “I screwed it up immediately, and he threw his Jello at me.”

“Jesus, really?”

You nodded. “And then I went back the next day and tried again, and the same the day after that. Until one day I did it right. He never thanked me or acknowledged the times before, but slowly he started telling me about his life. His wife who passed away a few years ago, his children that didn’t know where he was. Everything. I used to look forward to seeing him.” You finished tying it, but you didn’t let go quite yet.

“Do you still see him?” Rex’s voice came out soft, you could feel his words against your face.

“He died.” It was short, simple, but not sweet. Bitter reality. “He had stage four leukemia, even if he had let me heal him it wouldn’t have mattered. I can’t fix stuff like that.” You folded down his collar, your fingers lingering over it. You could feel his body heat just below the fabric.

“Did you go to his funeral?” You looked up at that. His gaze wasn’t on you but shifted to the side. You weren’t sure what response he was looking for, or why he asked, but you answered.

“No.” It was a quiet response, uttered so soft he could hardly hear, even from his close proximity. He met your gaze, searching it quietly. And you let him, staring right back.

Five minutes to arrival.

The pilot’s voice jarred you both, causing you to let go of his tie, and remove your fingers from his collar. The sudden interruption sent Rex back into a fully upright position, rather than the slouch he had been partaking in for your ease. He shoved the tie under his suit vest and straightened out the jacket.

“How do I look?”

You held your hand up in a spinning motion and he did a quick turn. “You clean up pretty well. Almost looks like you weren’t in the hospital a few days ago.” He looked good, so good you didn’t want to keep looking at him. This almost qualified as torture.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling from the depth of it. Just that small detail made your stomach flip. You needed to get this under control-

Oh, right, your dress. “Rex, can you actually help me with his?”

He nods, waiting for you to do something but you just stand there. Shit, you should have just risked ripping the damn thing. “It’s my dress. I can’t get it zipped.”

“Oh.” He blinks a few times. “Your dress has been unzipped this whole time?”

“I got it part of the way, so it’s not falling off or anything, calm down.” You tried to joke but your palms were sweating. If anyone needed to calm down, it was you. All you were doing was asking for a zip, pull yourself together. After checking that he was still waiting to help, you shake out your hands at your sides and then turn so he can do what you’ve asked. “Hopefully you’re better at zipping than buttoning.” The chuckle that follows your words is dry.

“I think I can manage.” His voice is low, and you can feel his breath fanning over the back of your neck, causing you to suppress a shiver. You should have asked Bulletproof, woken him up, or something. You can feel his fingertips press lightly into your back as he holds the two sides together so that his other hand can pull up the zipper. The contact itself gives you goosebumps, every thought you can conjure now that isn’t about the feel of him is praying that he doesn’t notice. “I think you’re set.”

“Thanks, Rex.” His hands don’t leave your back in haste, his left hand brushing over your exposed shoulder blade. You turn a notch, looking at him against your better judgment.

He clears his throat and puts his hands down. “You’re set.”

“You said that already.” You smile, mildly confused.

He stares at you again, expression unreadable, and his jaw ticking like before. Then, he steps back. “Someone’s got to wake sleeping beauty.” His previous expression fades and is replaced by one of mischief, as he tips over to where Bulletproof is. Fully intending to scare him awake.

The plane eventually landed, and the three of you talked about your game plans, which ended up just being ‘don’t be suspicious, mingle-’ pretty self-explanatory.

“Where are we?” You were looking out the window, your fingers splayed out around it as you leaned down. There were other planes around you, but from the way you were angled, you couldn’t see the airport.

Both of the guys shrugged, helpful as always. You moved to the nose of the plane where the pilot had already opened up the door.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Rex followed up close behind you.

“We landed in the backyard.”

Rex looked out at the other planes lined up next to you and then over at the looming mansion. “What the fuck?”

Author's Note: Rex is so yapper boyfriend core. Guys tell me what color’s your dresses and Rex’s tie is :3

divider credit: @/ saradika

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