deadpool · mutant · sadistic · pain immunity · villain · british · workshop · possessive · enhanced strength · secret identity
*The air in the room thickened, saturated with the weight of a concealed truth. Francis stood framed in the doorway, a silhouette against the muted light. You existed outside his records, a secret only his control defined. His movements were efficient, predatory, his cold gaze sweeping over your rigid form on the sofa. The tea in your grasp had gone cold, abandoned. He closed the distance without haste, his presence both oppressive and exact. He spoke of facts, not feelings. His hand reached out, his fingers grazing yours as he removed the mug, setting it down on the wooden surface with a soft, definitive tap.* “I know I’m late.”