#holster fic

[sunsburns]

imagine asking wade if he still likes you when he’s literally inside you LMAOOO I just know he’d be so flabbergasted

i know a normal people fan when i see one (18+, fluff)

but jokes aside, and dicks inside, wade would likely get whiplash; his head turning so fast he can hear a crack in his neck, staring at you like you're crazy because just seconds ago you'd been running your gentle hands over his skin. your fingers brush against the divots of his scarred skin, your cheek pressed to his chest, humming softly, close enough that your lashes tickle whenever you blink.

wade's a little out of breath, sticky with sweat, and miraculously, rendered speechless. to others, a rarity, but with you, while still rare, is more frequent, especially after sex.

sure, he drops a joke or two, but there is a window where wade likes to sit there, holding you, skin against skin, in silence; listening to the sounds of your shaky breaths as you come down from your high, the sounds of the bedsheets ruffling with slow movements from the both of you, even the sounds of the old crackly fan on his ceiling.

and so, in that small window of silence, the two of you lay there in a warm embrace, listening to each other's heartbeats as wade's dick slowly softens inside you.

but then that small window starts to close, the silence breaking with you. you shift, turning to press your chin against wade's chest while looking up at him, "hey," you whisper, a smile growing against your lips.

"hi," he whispers back to you, but he continues to stare at the window, watching the soft light of the rising sun peeking in through the white lace curtains you picked out, a part of you in the dingy apartment he shared with blind al.

"we've officially gone at it all night. fucking like rabbits. and i can't believe i'm saying this but, i'm fucking spent. i might need a few weeks to recover. i asked for a bone and you threw a whole skeleton at me, peanut."

you snort, rolling your eyes, "yeah, right."

"okay, fine, a week is too long." wade hums, he finds your hair and runs his hand over it, twirling a strand around his finger, "i'll be good as new by tonight or at least by the time you scroll to read another fic of me, of course."

you're still staring at him, and wade, ever the observant, notices. he shifts, sits up, holds onto your waist, and brings you up with him. you have to bite your tongue to hold back a moan, sensitive to the way he's touching you, the way his dick keeps you full.

wade raises his brows (or at least, where his brows would be), "what? is there something on my face? i know i'm ugly but i thought we were past that. your staring is making me a little self conscious, sweetbuns."

"wade?"

"yes, cupcake?"

"do you like me?"

"what-?" he stares at you, eyes wide and nearly popping out of his head. "do i- what? what the fuck kind of stupid ass fuck ass question is that? you think i don't like you? we literally fucked all night. literally did every position in the book. i let you peg me! you might be the only person on earth that matches my freak-"

"yeah, i know but-"

"bitch, i'm literally still inside you."

that's when you can't help but laugh, grinning against his neck when he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. you love the way his body emits warmth, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer like you want to live inside his skin.

wade holds you, his cheek pressing against the top of your head. and he groans loudly when you say, "you never answered my question."

"oh my god," he huffs dramatically, "of course i fucking like you. like no shit."

"okay, great. i was just making sure."

[acciosriracha]

"I thought we'd be doing a lot more bending...and stretching." Malfoy's brows went up. "You're certainly ready for action." Teach Me How To Forget by the amazing @scullymurphy Where Hermione's conscious af about her first-day-of-class outfit as if Draco's literally not checking out her bum.

If you haven't read this fic, you're missing tf out. What's better than hunky teacher Draco and student Hermione? Yeah, I'll wait.

Also I've no clue what wand holsters look like but boy am I 100% certain I want to be one. And pouty Hermione is my new fave thing to draw besides Draco's veiny arms/hands ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[jupio]

fancy seein' you here

(click for the full image quality)

pov you have never done a nature/grassy foreground so it takes you >6 hours and several tutorials and then you STILL have to ask your brother bc it looked Over Rendered and you cant work out how to fix it (basically just screenshots of the process)

+ cursed horse

[qoppybirdie]

Ocelots outfits in the fic A Sunday Kind of Love by theadventuresof! + messy sketch of the scene where ocelot has a fat roll of cash

This is one of my favorite bosselot fics ever…. and i love ocelot’s outfit descriptions. fanfic writers if you describe an outfit i will kiss u . tho its especially fun with ocelot bc hes always wearing some loud gayass fit

[jake-g-lockley]

Ok, My Precious (Javier Peña x reader)

Masterlist | Wanna be tagged?

A/N: Get it? Ok Kanmani? @lil-stark asked for a desi fic ages ago and here it is :”)

Warnings: Men can be a little dumb bless their hearts, a little bit of smut, a tiny panic attack and crying other than that, soft fluffy javi <3

Word Count: 1.7k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Javi watched as you bopped your head to your music, singing to its catchy rhythm. You were working on an assignment, occasionally looking to the left of your laptop to write something on your notepad. You were absolutely obsessed with this song, singing it over and over again, even singing the ad libs.

En Rojaa Neeya

En Uyire Neeya

En Anjalli Neeya

Geetaanjalli Neeya

Javi loved the way your eyes would light up when you managed to get something right and how your eyebrows crinkled together when you didn't get the answers you needed. He tilted his head and continued to stare unabashedly.

En Kadalil Alai Paayum

Oar Mouna Raagam Needhane

Kaatruveliyidai Ellaam Naam

Iruvar Parandhu Sellathane

Javi leaned against the door frame and watched your lips move as angelic words tumbled out of them. He sighed softly and looked at you dreamily, his safe little haven away from the atrocities of his work. You were wearing one of his baggy tshirts and your fluffy slippers, hair twisted into a bun and a turmeric face mask on your face. 

Javi shifted to cross his legs and you finally noticed him at the door, your eyes widening as your hands come up to shield your face from him.

“Eek, Javi! Don’t look at me!” you squealed, pressing your hands to your face, smudging the mask all over the place. 

Javier laughed, “See mi preciosa, look at the mess you've made.”

He walks to your shared bathroom and comes out a few minutes later with a wet towel. He pulls a chair out beside you and drags your chair towards him so that you are situated between his thighs. He gently pulls your hand away from your face and places them upturned on his lap and begins to wipe your face.

You stare up at his handsome face as he gently rubs the turmeric away from your skin. When he was done with your face, he moved to your hands, kissing each fingertip as he cleaned them with the towel. He pulled you close for a hug when he was finally done, placing a feathery kiss onto your hairline and placing the stained towel aside.

Your heart swells with love and happiness as you snuggle close, your fingers gripping onto Javi’s shirt, your cheek pressed into his exposed skin where his buttons were opened as you felt the soft beat of his heart

“Te amo, roja.” Javi whispers, your heart fluttering with the tamil nickname. 

“Te amo, raja.” You whispered back. 

A message bloops on your laptop, bursting you and Javi’s little bubble and you sigh, sitting up straighter. 

“Go on baby, do your work, I’ll fix you something to eat.” Javi smiles softly at you, kissing your cheek before getting up and taking the towel with him. 

A few minutes later Javi returned, holding a bowl of fruit, a fork and a book. You smiled happily as he began to feed you fruit as he read his book, keeping you company as you softly hummed your favourite song while you worked.

You kissed him softly when you were done with the fruit, making him hum at the sweet taste of juice on your lips. 

He held your hand, playing with your ring as you continued working. The little white gold and diamond ring sparkled in the late evening light and he moved his hand around, making the light refract from it and bounce around the room. The ring was a gift from your mom for your 21st birthday and you never took it off and Javi loved playing with it. 

Javi kissed your finger and gently nibbled at your finger making you hiss slightly. He shifted closer to you, kissing your palm and your wrist, gently sinking his teeth into your skin, a sign that you wouldn’t be doing much work for the rest of the night. 

Still you ignored him and stared hard at your laptop, your free hand clutching your mouse tightly.

“Relax, amor, let me take care of you.” Javi’s lips grazed your ear as you sighed. 

You cave, melting into Javi’s touch as he curled his arm under your legs and lifted you up, carrying you to the bedroom, making you giggle softly into his neck. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Javi always wakes up before you in the morning. He sat up and stared at your sleeping figure, his eyes tracing your curves as they noted the love marks that he had carved throughout the night. Your hand was draped over your tummy, your red nails another reminder of the delicious marks that littered his back.

His eyes stopped at your ring again, the one that sat perfectly at the base of your middle finger. He began to imagine how it would be like to slip on another ring beside the current one. You’d definitely make a beautiful bride and an even more beautiful wife. He suddenly couldn't help but think that your name was written with his in the stars and he had the inexplicable urge to solidify it

You sighed in your sleep and turned around, and Javi leaned down to kiss your shoulder, shaking off his thoughts. He got out of bed when suddenly a nagging voice popped up in his head, urging him to grab your ring.

He frowned and shook his head

“Not steal it, idiot. To get her ring size.” the voice hissed again and his eyes widened

Javi gently dropped to his elbows and eyed your fingers. Before he could stop himself, his own fingers met yours and began to pull the ring from your finger. 

“Oh boy, we’re really doing this.” Javi thought as he gently placed your hand back onto the bed.

“Yes we are, doofus.” his mind voice spoke to him again. “Now run before she wakes up.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You literally couldn't stop bawling your eyes out. You did not only wake up to the fact that Javier had disappeared and gone to work, but your favourite ring was missing. You've had the ring on your finger for about  ten years. It was one of the only things keeping you close to your mother who lives thousands of miles away. You sunk onto the floor after literally turning the entire house upside down, your hands clutched to your heart. 

You fell asleep curled up on the floor in exhaustion and woke up to an alarmed Javier kneeling in front of you.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” his soothing voice only made you want to cry again as he pulled you into a tight hug. 

“My ring…” your voice falters as you begin to sob into Javi’s shirt.

Javier’s eyes widened and guilt immediately rushed around him. He internally face palmed as he subtly felt his pocket for your ring. Instead of pulling it out immediately, he jumped into action, pulling your hand to eye level as if to inspect it. 

“Alright, calm down, breathe, it must be here somewhere, mi preciosa.” Javi whispered through your sobs and gently pulled you up with him. 

“Let's start with the bed, yea?” 

Javier sneakily pulled the ring out of his pocket as you frantically tossed the pillows.

“AHA! I FOUND IT!” Javier shouted and you immediately give yourself whiplash when you looked up at him. 

“Oh thank god!” you jumped onto the bed and threw your arms around Javier’s neck and he subtly breathed a sigh of relief.

“You worked yourself up too much, baby, come on now, let me run you a bath.” Javier said softly as he slipped the ring back onto your finger. 

“Thank you, Javi, I love you.” you sighed , wrapping your arms around his body. 

“That was close,” the grating voice whispered in Javier’s head.

“Shut up.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It had been three months since Javi bought your ring. Every morning he would look at your ring, before shaking his head slightly and putting it back in his hiding spot. It wasn’t like you had anything wrong with you, he just wanted to find the perfect timing. 

Then one day it just clicked. 

It had been a long night for him, and he was exhausted the second he got home. His ears perked at the music that was playing the minute he put his hand on the doorknob. He threw the door open and his eye caught you spinning around, your arms thrown up as an upbeat song played in the background. You turned to look at him, running up to him to pull his bag away from him and he immediately snaked his arm around your waist to dance with you. Music consumed the both of you and Javier immediately forgot about his horrible day.

It was at that moment where he felt like his life without you would probably mean that he would have to live a horrible one alone. You let go of his arms and danced on your own, throwing your head back as he watched your eyes flutter close. 

He didn’t know how he ended up on one knee, the box ready in his hands as he looked up at you. 

Your music stopped and you huffed, stalking over to your laptop. 

“Baby, did we pay the Spotify bill-” you started to say when you noticed what Javier was doing. 

Your mouth dropped open as a soft gasp escaped your lungs. Javier felt so vulnerable in that few minutes, his mind racing as you both stared at each other.

“Marry me, kanmani.” Javier felt the words tumble out of his mouth in one breath. 

You know the moment you look at someone and your whole life with them flashes before your unfocused eyes? That was exactly what was happening to you. Birthdays, first days of school, graduations and anniversaries popped up in front of you as you found yourself living  a dream. 

You closed the distance between the both of you in a flash, wrapping your arms around his neck as one of your hands slid up his curls.

“Oh god, Javi.” you whispered as tears seeped out your eyes. “Yes, I will!” 

A choked sob escaped Javier’s mouth as he breathed a sigh of relief. He pressed his forehead to yours as he took your hand in his, slipping the ring onto your finger. Both of your tear drops mingle onto your hand and you pull away slightly to look at Javier’s beautiful brown eyes. You were positive you saw your whole world in his eyes as he pulled you close for a bruising kiss. 

“You okay, kanmani?” “I’m your kanmani hmm?” you giggle, pressing your nose to his. “Always and forever, en kanmani.”

Taglist: @wolfbook87 @nyotamalfoy @minigirl87 @alexxavicry @bloodredwolfsbane @euphoricosmo @celiaswife @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @bubblezuku @cookielovesbook-akie @mandoloriancookie @magic-schoolbusdropout @anonymously35 @nerdreader @lucreziazaninelli @milly-louisex @marylovesdilfs 

[sammaggs]

The due South/C6D Big Bang is out, and that means: new gay ‘90s cop porn from YOURS TRULY BABY

Short and sweet and for the freaks right here:

[segfaultfault]

fic rec! I had otter thoughts. And have you read That otterly amazing fic by ultranos, "the two-body problem" (AO3 registered users only link).

“Not unless you get a tac vest, Alex.” Okay, wow, J’onn sounds way too reasonable about letting an otter do… whatever Alex is pondering that is clearly dangerous, but oh gosh she’d look adorable in an itty-bitty tac vest

-excerpt "the two-body problem", ultranos (AO3 author page)

You're so right. She does.

[almostheav4n]

thinking about Joel Miller set in a southern gothic background

[bastionbibi]

Imagine if Heiji just started calling akai and rei Otchan. Like nonconsensually using casual honorifics acting like hes already close with them. The very definition of fake it till you make it.

[aristocrating]

Metal Clouds

Jack thought learning to be more in tune with himself would help, but under the hood was just more – Surprise! – depression. He doesn’t even know how many issues he has piling up inside of him. Father inferiority complex body issue perfectionism closet queer angst autism sadness. Or something like that. Issues all the way down, just recursively, really.

Reflections on the depression of Jack Zimmermann, based on Cranes in the Sky by Solange.

I was listening to the song and thought about how sometimes depression is just this little march of relapse and recovery you do with yourself.

[sunsburns]

four or five moments (ii.)

pairing: wade wilson/deadpool x fem!assassin!reader

summary: you're literally just trying to do your job, and it's going great so far, you've killed trask, all you have left is to stop that truck from leaving new york. few problems: deadpool can't stay dead, you're having a moral dilemma and why is that car getting closer? oh shit-!

—or: deadpool literally hits you with a car

word count: 4k+

warnings: fem reader, wade being nasty, flirting, sex jokes, canon violence, there isn't too much plot, blood, strange conversations about morality, wade being annoying, he also breaks the fourth wall a few times, i did not pre-read this pls bare with spelling mistakes

notes: i was peer pressured to write this. it literally strays off from the og plot so bad you get whiplash!!

part one

All you really need is four or five moments.

Four or five moments to prove that you're better than them, that you wouldn't stoop as low, to prove that an eye for an eye will only leave two people blind. No blood will bring mercy. No. But it might get you some peace of mind knowing that they can't hurt you anymore, knowing that there's one less asshole on the earth that's trying to hurt you and the people you care about. It is heartless, you're well aware, but you are not trained to have much of a heart, much less to care.

You remind yourself of that fact as lights blur into neon streaks and speeding vehicles race by. Your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline sharpening your senses, and the stab wound on your leg becomes a distant throb.

You leap onto a motorcycle conveniently left unattended by a fleeing warehouse worker, hot-wiring it with practiced ease. The engine roars to life, and you peel out onto the road, weaving through traffic. The bike vibrates beneath you, a sleek, powerful beast responding to your every command.

Behind you, Deadpool is a persistent shadow. You catch glimpses of his red suit and mask as he commandeers a car, recklessly swerving through lanes to catch up to you. His determination is infuriating, but you can't afford to be distracted. You grit your teeth, focusing on the chase.

Your earpiece crackles to life, and a familiar voice comes through. "I've got eyes on your tracker," your handler says. "They're heading towards the docks. Be careful; we don't know if it's a set-up."

"Understood," you reply, voice steady despite the chaos.

As you near the docks, the industrial landscape looms ahead, a labyrinth of shipping containers and cranes casting long shadows in the dim light. The truck is just ahead, its taillights glowing like beacons.

You accelerate closer, and with one hand, you grab an energy gun, in a quick movement, you shoot at the truck doors, immediately regaining your grip on the handle afterwards. The doors fly open, revealing giant metal scraps and wooden crates.

You nearly curse, swerving out of the way when a pipe tumbles out from the back of the truck, crashing onto the road. The clang of metal on asphalt echoes in your ears. You slow down by the truck's blind spot, knowing you'd have to stop it, especially now that the cargo was confirmed to be in it.

You stay ready with your gun, pulling it from the holster on your thigh. You wait a beat, then another, and as the truck starts to pick up speed, you make your move and roll up to the driver's window, shooting through the glass. The bullet flies through the driver's head, causing him to slump forward, pressing on the horn. The blaring sound drowns out your second shot, which takes down the man in the passenger seat before he can shoot you.

The truck starts to slow, veering erratically before it crashes into a building with a deafening crunch of metal and shattering glass. The impact takes down a few light posts and parked cars, sending debris flying. Broken electrical wires dance and crackle around the wreck, their sparks reflected in the spray of a burst fire hydrant.

"Great job," your handler's voice crackles through your comms. "Dispose of the truck. No witnesses—"

The connection cuts off as you are violently hit from the side by a black car. The force of the impact sends you flying off your bike, tumbling across the rough asphalt. Your suit and helmet take most of the fall, tearing and cracking under the friction. Your visor shatters, the protective plastic lining breaking at the base.

You feel the sting and burn of broken skin on your arms and legs, grime and dirt mixing with the blood seeping from your cuts. Your vision is blurred, and a high-pitched ringing fills your ears. Every breath you take is shallow and painful, your ribs protesting with each inhale. Biting the inside of your cheek, you push yourself to pull off your broken helmet, tossing it aside. You blink hard, trying to focus your vision and spot a figure approaching.

Through the haze of pain and confusion, you recognize the distinctive red and black suit. Deadpool. He strides towards you with casual confidence, katana in hand, his eyes hidden behind the mask but undoubtedly filled with a mix of amusement and determination. The streetlights cast eerie shadows on his suit, highlighting the dried blood and grime.

"Please, don't be mad, honeybuns." Deadpool's irritating voice is the first thing you can hear when the ringing stops. He's standing before you, gloved hands out for you to take.

You don't move, heaving, "What the fuck, Wade?"

"Oh, are we on a first-name basis now? I think I like it." Wade Wilson hums, and when you still don't take his hands, he kneels before you. The smell of sweat and gunpowder wafts off him, mingling with the metallic scent of blood. "I know this all seems a little confusing—"

"You hit me with a fucking car, you dick!" you belt out, eyes wide with rage. The pain and exhaustion make your voice hoarse, every word a struggle.

"Well, yes. But it's only fair—"

"Fuck you."

"Listen to me." He says a little desperately, and you're glaring at him through your tears. Wade doesn't let it get to him, instead, he calls out your name, barely above a whisper as he looks at you. "You are getting innocent people killed." He tells you. "Look around. This might not be a cul-de-sac, but there are civilians, and they're hurt. We need to leave. You need to call it."

You glance over his shoulder, tired eyes scanning the area. He was right. Dock workers are running around, shouting and helping people out of the old building the truck had crashed into. It's late at night, but not late enough for the place to be deserted; people are still at work, still trying to get by.

You wince as you watch a pregnant woman being led out of a crashed car by her husband, a gash on her head. The smell of gasoline and burning rubber fills the air, mixing with the acrid scent of smoke from the crashed truck.

"Killing shitty people is one thing," Deadpool tells you, and you hate the way his voice is almost earnest. His tone is different, more serious, a stark contrast to his usual unserious demeanour. "But I'm familiar with your no-witnesses rule. This would just be mass murder if I let you keep going. Not exactly my piece of cake. Just..."

He stops, letting his head hang for a moment as if he were too repulsed to say it. You can see his shoulders slump slightly, a rare show of genuine emotion. "Oh god, I can't believe I'm about to say this," he grumbles, "Four or five moments. That's all it takes. Just stop and think. It's all it takes to be a hero."

You grit your teeth, hating that Wade Wilson is your voice of reason. The biggest asshole in New York, and here he is lecturing you on morality.

Hairs are falling out of your braid and sticking to your forehead, yet you don't care. Sweat mixes with blood, creating a sticky mess on your skin. You can only glare at him. "You're the last fucking person who should be telling me how to be a hero."

Wade sighs, loud and obnoxious, his mask wrinkling around his eyes as he scrunches up his face. "I'm sorry I hit you with a car. You kinda deserved it after killing Trask. He was my last chance at becoming pretty again. Now I have to stalk another crazy scientist." He taps his chin thoughtfully, "I always figured I'd end up chasing a mad scientist again, but not under these circumstances."

It's when you can no longer hold yourself up with your arms that Wade takes in the gravity of your injuries. He winces, watching you crumble to the ground before him. "Oh, wow, that's a lot of blood," he notes, his voice suddenly devoid of humour. The sight of your blood pooling on the asphalt seems to pull him back to reality. "Should I take you to a hospital? How many fingers am I holding up?"

He doesn't give you a chance to answer.

"Three? No. Two? Yikes. It's worse than I thought." Wade stands, and the worry in his voice is poorly masked by his usual sarcasm. "Here we go. Up, up!" When he moves to pick you up, you start turning away, your body protesting every movement.

"Wade, wait—" you rasp, trying to stop him from touching you. Your voice is weak, barely above a whisper.

But it's too late. When he reaches for you, your body phases, a faint white glow surrounding you as his hands and arms fall through your body as if you're a ghost. He recoils, jumping back while a squeamish sound escapes his lips. He stares at you, then his hands, then back at you on the ground as you try to sit up again, confusion and amazement written all over his masked face.

"Oh. My. Motherfucking. Fuckballs." Wade gasped, eyes wide behind his mask. "Did my hand just go through you or is all that cocaine finally kicking in?"

You ignore him, holding onto your side as it throbs with pain. Every movement sends sharp, agonizing waves through your body. "Fuck."

"No way, you're a fucking mutant?" His tone is a mix of awe and excitement, like a kid discovering a new toy.

It's not like you kept it a secret. You used your abilities whenever you needed to, and sure, it was useful at times, especially in your line of work when you needed to get through locked doors and hidden rooms or just for the element of surprise. But it's draining. Leaves you winded after only a matter of seconds. You've always had a hard time controlling it when you're slightly delusional though. You must've hit your head really hard. Maybe that's why you haven't shot Deadpool, yet.

"Shut up, Wade."

"Hey, no need to be ashamed of it." He reassures you while trying to pick you up again. This time, he is more cautious, his movements slower and more deliberate. When he succeeds, you can tell he's grinning like a child underneath the mask.

He carries you back to the same fuckass car he hit you with, holding you with one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. There's a faint skip to his step as if you're not on the verge of losing consciousness. While kicking open the back door, Wade continues his chatter, and you really wish he'd killed you on impact.

"Being a mutant is great! Plus, it's not the early two thousands anymore, or whatever timeline Stewart was in. Man, they sure did hate mutants in that trilogy."

He sets you down in the back seat gently, his hands surprisingly delicate. "You know, I always knew you were different. You hit me harder than regular people. I just figured you really hated me."

"I do." you mutter.

"Oh, my little sweet buns, I'm sure you do." To your annoyance, he pokes your nose playfully. "But you can't hate me too much right now, I'm literally your knight in shining armor. See, I can be nice, especially to my fellow mercs. You'd bleed to death if I left you there."

"Only because you hit me with a fucking car," you snap, the pain and frustration boiling over.

"Good to know you're still harboring great anger towards that. Means you're still conscious. Keep being mean to me, baby, that's how I'll know you're okay." He pauses before shutting the door, looking at you lying on the backseat, bleeding and all the glory that comes from it. "And it also turns me on a little bit. God, I can't believe your suit is torn and not one bit of extra cleavage is exposed. What will it take for a guy to get some rated R nudity over here?"

And with that, he slams the door shut, the car shaking with the force of it. The sound makes the ringing return to your ears, and you bite back the urge to curse him. He takes a seat in the driver's seat, starting the engine and rushing out of the scene before first responders arrive. The car roars to life, and as he speeds away, you feel your consciousness slipping, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you.

The two of you sit in silence for the most part, only the sounds of the engine running and Wade humming the tune of a song you think is from The Greatest Showman soundtrack. You force yourself to stay awake. Mostly because you don't trust him, but it's also because you fear that if you let your eyes close you won't wake up again. Yeah, it's mostly because you don't trust Wade Wilson.

"Where are you taking me?" you finally ask, and you hate the way your voice sounds weak, barely above a whisper.

"Just a little safe house I know." He tells you, glancing back at you for a quick moment. "Very homey, trust me."

"What about the shipment?" you murmur, your mind struggling to stay focused.

"What?"

"The truck," you repeat, fighting to keep your eyes open.

"Oh, don't worry. That's no longer our problem." He says, "We're about to enter a whole new setting. That truck is forgotten plot."

Wade takes a sharp turn, and you wince as your body shifts uncomfortably in the back seat. The pain is getting worse, each bump in the road sending jolts of agony through your body. You grit your teeth, trying to stay conscious, but it's a losing battle.

After what feels like an eternity, the car finally comes to a stop. Wade gets out and you hear his footsteps crunching on gravel as he walks around to your door. He opens it carefully this time, his usual wiseass demeanour replaced by a rare show of genuine concern. He scoops you up gently, and you're too weak to protest.

The last thing you remember, before everything goes black, is the sight of a grand mansion looming ahead, its imposing silhouette framed by the moonlight. The large iron gates creak open as Wade carries you through them, the gravel path crunching under his boots. The mansion, with its towering spires and Gothic architecture, looks like something out of a fairy tale, a stark contrast to the violence and chaos you just escaped from.

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is the softness of the bed beneath you. The second thing you notice is the smell of lavender and the faint hum of medical equipment. You try to sit up, but a sharp pain in your side makes you gasp.

"Whoa, easy there," a deep, accented voice says from beside you. You turn your head slowly, the motion making your vision swim. A towering, metal-skinned mutant sits by your bed, his imposing figure softened by a look of genuine concern. "You need to rest. You are badly injured."

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you rasp, "Where am I?"

"The X-Mansion," he replies in a soothing tone, the accent heavy but comforting. "Wade brought you here. You’re safe now. I am Colossus."

You try to take in your surroundings, your head feeling heavy as you look around. The room is vast and elegant, with high ceilings that seem to reach the heavens. The walls are adorned with rich tapestries and framed paintings, depicting serene landscapes and grand historical scenes.

Large windows let in the soft, golden glow of morning light, casting gentle shadows that dance across the floor. It’s a far cry from the dingy, rundown places you’re used to, especially that old apartment with its creaky floors and peeling wallpaper.

Your eyes finally land on Wade, who is slouched in a chair in the corner. He’s flipping through a Playboy magazine with exaggerated interest, still in his dirty suit from the night before.

When he sees you stir, he grins and waves a hand in your direction. "Morning, sunshine," he says cheerfully, his voice carrying an unnerving mix of sincerity and teasing. "You gave us quite a scare. But, I've got to say, that hospital gown is doing wonders for your figure. I love the blue. Great contrast to that black you're always wearing."

You roll your eyes, too exhausted to respond properly. The gown feels scratchy against your skin, and every movement sends sharp pangs of pain through your body.

Colossus, noticing your discomfort, shifts slightly. "How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice deep and steady.

"Like I got hit by a truck," you mutter, sending a glare in Wade's direction.

Colossus chuckles, the sound deep and resonant, like rolling thunder. "Do not worry about him. We will take care of you."

Despite the throbbing pain and overwhelming fatigue, a wave of relief washes over you. For the first time in a long while, you're surrounded by people who genuinely want to help. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the softness of the bed. "Thank you," you whisper, the words feeling strangely comforting. For once, you don’t feel the need to be constantly on guard.

Wade's grin widens as he leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out and adjusting his mask. "Anytime, honeybuns. Anytime."

As you drift in and out of consciousness, you feel the cool, soothing touch of a wet cloth on your forehead. The gentle pressure is a welcome contrast to the persistent throbbing pain.

The sound of soft murmurs and quiet footsteps fills the room, creating a cocoon of calm around you. At some point, you notice Colossus's massive hands, surprisingly gentle, as he carefully tends to your wounds, applying bandages with precision.

Eventually, a teenager with short hair and a no-nonsense expression enters the room. You learn her name is Negasonic Teenage Warhead. She carries a phone in one hand, handing Colossus a stack of clean bandages with the other. The faint scent of antiseptic and medicinal herbs fills the air, mixing with the crispness of the freshly laundered bed linens.

Hours pass, or maybe it's days—it's difficult to gauge. When you next wake, the room is dimly lit, the golden light replaced by the softer hues of early evening. The pain has dulled to a manageable throb, and the heaviness in your limbs is slightly alleviated. Wade is still there, his previous outfit swapped for sweatpants and a dark green sweater, though he keeps his red and black mask on. He lounges in the chair beside your bed, now engrossed in an iPad, giggling softly to himself.

"Oh, man. Instagram reels are crazy," he snorts, shaking his head as he scrolls through the screen.

He looks up and hums when he sees you're awake again. "You're tougher than you look," he comments, turning off the iPad with a flick of his wrist. "Most people would have keeled over by now."

"You wish."

"Oh, trust me, I do." Wade nods vigorously, his mask bobbing with the motion. "I tried injecting poison into your IV, but your body rejected it."

"Don't worry. My handler will kill me for you."

Wade groans, dramatically rolling his eyes as he gets up from the chair. "You’re still worried about that? I already told you, the truck and all that shit is past plot. We’re in the sequel now, babe. There are new rules. Who knows, maybe this is your redemption arc where you join the X-Men. Though, I will miss your assassin era. You were so sexy in that suit."

You make a face, "Fuck off."

Just then, the door opens with a soft creak, and Colossus enters with a tray in hand. He’s followed closely by Negasonic, who carries a stack of fresh bandages. Colossus places the tray on a small table beside your bed with practiced ease. The tray is filled with a bowl of steaming soup and a couple of slices of crusty bread, the aroma wafting up and making your stomach rumble.

"How are you feeling?" Colossus asks, his voice calm and reassuring as he sets the tray down.

"Better," you admit, managing a small smile. "Thanks to you guys."

Negasonic shrugs nonchalantly, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her usual scowl. "Don’t mention it. Just doing our job."

Wade groans, clearly troubled by the kindness. "Oh great, now you’re all buddy-buddy. What am I, chopped liver?"

Colossus chuckles, the sound of a comforting rumble. "You must eat something. It will help you regain your strength."

You nod gratefully, and with Colossus’s help, you manage to sit up enough to sip the warm, comforting soup. The broth is rich and flavorful, and the bread is soft and fresh. As you eat, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of belonging. Despite the pain and the chaos, you’re surrounded by people who care, and for now, that’s enough.

Wade, not one to be left out, scoots his chair closer, setting it right next to your bed. He stretches out, propping his elbows on his knees as he leans in. "So, what do you think of the X-Mansion? Pretty swanky, right? Lots of rooms, big kitchen, danger room for training... and other things."

Negasonic scoffs, her eyes narrowing. "Gross."

You finish your meal, feeling a bit stronger. As Colossus helps you settle back into the bed, you glance at Wade. "Why did you bring me here?"

Wade’s expression shifts, becoming uncharacteristically serious. He looks at you with sincerity. "Because you’re one of us. And because... well, everyone deserves a second chance."

You blink, surprised by the depth of his words. Before you can respond, he’s back to his usual self, grinning and turning on his iPad. "Plus, it’s not every day I get to play hero. I gotta milk it for all it’s worth. And no, Colossus, I will not join your boy band, thank you very much."

The metal man grunts, waving a hand dismissively before walking out, Negasonic following right behind him. Wade stays seated next to you, his lips curled into a wide, amused grin that seems to stretch just a bit too far was he watches you.

"You're never gonna take that off?" you ask him.

Wade's laughter is a low, rumbling sound that feels almost too bright for the quiet room. "Oh, no fucking way," he says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m ugly under this. Trust me. You’d be repulsed. Like, horror movie-level repulsed."

You give him a look, your eyebrow arched in disbelief. "I doubt it."

Wade leans in closer, the grin on his face widening. He taps his chin thoughtfully with a gloved finger, the gesture oddly contemplative. "Maybe next time I’ll take it off for you," he says, a taunting tone in his voice as he raises his brows. "Maybe that and a little more."

"There's a next time?"

"I mean, as the famous words of Natasha Bedingfield say: the rest is still underwritten."

"God, you’re fucking ridiculous," you mutter, the words coming out with a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement. "I can’t wait to get out of here and never see you again."

Wade's shoulders slump, the white eyes of his mask narrow at you, "What, that's it? No steamy sex? No heavy petting? Is this how it ends? Not even a kiss?"

"Fuck no. Get out."

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[lady-bess]

Just A Date - Tim Rockford

Part of the LadyBess Valentine's special! 8 Characters; 8 Dates 💜

Detective Tim Rockford x GN!Reader Mature/18+ (Minors DNI Please✨) WC: 1.2k Notable Tags: References to gun-holsters being used in the bedroom, Yeah we're starting off strong, Valentine's Date Ruined, Backup Date, Chinese Takeout, References to Alcohol, References to Sex, Kissing, Swearing, Fluff, SFW (nearly).

To say this detective only got a mere 48-seconds of screen time, he’s very quickly become a favourite in the Pedro-verse! And man, with gun holsters like that, I can see why…

Anyway!

We don’t know much about Tim, so I’ve taken a fair few creative liberties with this one! I hope that I still do the man justice!

“Rockford, I’m sorry, but this case needs working tonight. A lead has opened up, and if we don’t act now we might not get a chance again,” his boss said. Tim sighed, knowing this would definitely derail his plans with you tonight, but he understood the need.

“No worries, sir. Let me just call my partner though, alright? I’m sure you can appreciate we did have plans tonight,” he said.

“I thought you might, and I’m so sorry. I’ll tell you what, I’ll throw in an extra day of paid leave in for you for making you miss your plans tonight,” he offered.

“Sounds like a deal to me,” he said, smiling faintly before pulling his phone out to call you.

It had been a bummer for sure when Tim cancelled, but you were understanding. His job was demanding, and you knew from day one that his rank within the force meant he often had to prioritise work over his personal life. Tim had never minded so much, and outwardly he never complained. But you knew, deep down, that it irritated him.

At the end of the day though, he loved his work, and what he did kept the streets a much safer place. You’d sacrifice all your nights with him if it meant that he got to continue his good work. At least he now got to come home to you.

Moving in together had been the best decision you’d made, and it had made a lot of sense in the end. Both your jobs kept you tied to your desks for longer than you’d both ever like to admit, so at least now you got to spend some more time together by sharing the same bed every night. Your relationship had only gone from strength to strength ever since that day you were given a set of keys to his place.

The front door to your apartment opened several hours later. You were lay on the couch, idly scrolling through the TV channels, seeing if there were any films being showed that you fancied watching. Sure, you had streaming services, but something about watching a film ‘live’ hit different.

“Sweetheart?” Tim shouted from the door.

“In here!” you called out.

Tim smiled at the sound of your voice, the sound instantly making him feel like he was well and truly home. This had been where he lived for many years, but until you came along it hadn’t felt like somewhere he wanted to put roots down.

He slipped his coat off and hung it on the back of the kitchen chair, then headed through to you in the lounge. In his hand he held a white plastic bag, filled with his vague attempt at making up for tonight.

You smiled wide as he appeared in the doorway, his tie already loosened around his neck, brown curls ruffled and dishevelled. Tim smiled over at you, his eyes creasing behind his thick framed glasses. You could tell just by looking at him that he was exhausted, but behind the fatigue was a happiness to see you.

“Hey, you,” he said, “Sorry I had to stay late. I’m hoping this might make it up to you?” he asked, raising the white plastic bag. You furrowed your brow, sitting up on the couch and squinting at the logo on the bag.

“What is it?” you asked, and Tim slowly headed over to you. He set down the plastic bag on the coffee table, then sank down onto the couch next to you.

“Chinese takeout. It ain’t much, but I felt it was the least I could do after ruining our plans for tonight,” he said, a slight sigh coming from his lips as he relaxed into the couch. You smiled and leaned forward, kissing him softly on the cheek, just above the scruff of his beard. Tim smiled as he felt the warmth of your kiss seep into his skin, and turned to look at you.

“You haven’t ruined anything, Tim. You’re a great detective, and I’ll never hold it against you that sometimes work needs you more than I do,” you said, “I love you”.

“I love you too,” he said, reaching forward to caress your cheek, then softly kissed you. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to relax into his hold, all the pressures of your jobs disappearing at the contact of your skin on one another. “Come on, let’s eat before this gets cold!” he said.

You smiled and nodded, moving away from Tim to begin your assault on the plastic bag of takeout. It was always a bit of a wild card whenever Tim collected food, but there was always one guarantee: Chow Mein. Sure enough, you found a box of it tucked into the bottom, and giggled to yourself.

“You’re so predictable sometimes,” you said, getting the boxes out and spreading them out onto the table. Tim stood to his feet.

“Oh, shush!” he chuckled. “Now, fancy some wine with it too?” he said, heading over to the wine rack at the other side of the room.

“Only if you’re having some. Aren’t you working tomorrow?” you asked.

“I was, but not anymore! Boss gave me tomorrow off for fucking up tonight’s plans,” he said, pulling a bottle of red wine out the rack and then heading to get some glasses.

“Oh, brilliant! Shall we watch a film then, if we can be up a bit later?” you asked, opening up the takeout boxes and beginning to separate the chopsticks provided. Tim came back into the room a few moments later, a generous glass of wine in either hand, and he came to sit next to you.

“We sure can! Although, I’ll be frank, once we’ve eaten all of this there’s only one thing I wanna do tonight,” he chuckled, kissing your jaw once he was settled back into the couch as his hands worked away at his tie. You giggled, blushing bright red, and had to hide the wide grin across your face. Even after all this time of knowing each other, he still managed to reduce you to a complete puddle.

“Stop it, you!” you teased, jokingly slapping his thigh. “Get those gun holsters off and have your dinner with me!”.

Tim sat up, grabbing you around the waist, and buried his head in the crook of your neck. His lips danced along your ears delicately, his hot breath making your hairs stand on end. Large hands spread out across your torso, keeping you pinned to his chest as he continued to tease you.

“I thought you liked it when I kept the holsters on?” he whispered, chuckling under his breath when you whimpered in pleasure at the thought that ran across the forefront of your mind.

Safe to say, it was the fastest either of you had ever eaten dinner in your entire life.

For more from this series, check out the Just A Date Masterlist! For more works from me, here's my main Masterlist! ❤

LadyBess xox

[parvuls]

fic idea every day #17

Trope: PWP, Setting: University, Word: Chemistry.

Hooking up with a TA is a bad idea, which is why no one would be fucking surprised that Adam's totally up for it.

Hooking up with his Chem TA in the chemistry lab is an even worse idea, but somehow he's got Oluransi's hands up his shirt and his tongue in Adam's mouth and there'd be plenty of time to remember that this is a terrible idea afterwards.

[nerdieforpedro]

Hey, babe! Thank you for tagging me in the wip game, I will for sure be posting my own addition! For now, though, “You sent me what?” from your list has caught my full attention 👀

Hehe! Thanks for your question. 😄

That title is my long await foray back into the Pike Pool. It has Marcus and the reader in an establish relationship where she send him something fun and a little sexy at work. Marcus maybe gets a little flustered because she hasn't done that before, but makes a full recovery or does he?

I'm tagging @secretelephanttattoo becuase she is the expert on all things Marcus Pike and doughnuts. 🫡

[bonniebird]

Is Billy's knife kept in his boots or on his belt?

Is that his knife sticking out on the left?

This is the only picture I can find of the holster he and Stu uses to keep the knives on them when they're ghostface

[omgauplease]

Ransom & Holster back again to help with the next step, brahs!

Claiming, v.

1. formally request or demand; say that one owns or has earned (something).

Basically, this is how you tell us which alternate universes you’re going to put us and the other members of SMH into!

Here's a little step-by-step guide we made for claiming prompts, which will open at Noon EST tomorrow! 

1. Check out the ‘swawesome list of prompts here. Pick one (or two) - or ten if you’re an overachiever like my buddy Ransom here!

2. You’ll notice a ‘Claim’ button in the bottom right corner of the box containing the prompt details. Click that, dude! 

See, that’s pretty freaking easy. Smooth like Shitty’s flow. 

More Important Shit  (sorry, this part may be boring, but Captain Jack is making us include it):

- Multiple people may claim the same prompt. MORE CAKE, amirite? (Also remember that claiming is not a guarantee that the prompt will get filled)

- You may claim your own prompt! 

- You may drop or claim more prompts throughout the creating period (basically any time between claims opening and when works are due at 11:59pm EST on Friday, April 7)

- If you have another idea that hasn’t been prompted but you would like to submit work for it to the fest, you may claim a Catch-All Prompt (you can claim these for any type of fanwork - fic, art, podfic, filk, vids, etc).

We and all our Hausmates are pumped to see what gets claimed! We see our names on there a few times and can’t wait to see what we get up to...