#also for context this is from the 'send why you think i'm cute' ask prompt thingy i reblogged a couple days back.. i just get to asks

[pawjamas]

just your Entire Vibe tbqh. you are just. the embodiment of cute. seeing how soft you are even after everything youve been thru. actually i think this is the best time to say this but you inspired me to finally accept being transmasc and femme. so that is also pog. :3

omg really ?? that makes me so happy Hell fucking yes.. femme boys make the world go round, i'm glad to hear you've become more comfortable in being such ;w; ♡♡

[khaleesiofalicante]

Daniiiii I need advice :((

How tf do I talk to people?

More specifically how do I talk to the cute boy in class who gets off at the same metro stop as and is just as much as an introvert as me??

We've had like (1) conversation so far, when he saw me reading CoA on the metro and asked me about it. He's read tmi!! He's not obsessed with it unfortunately, he's more of a Jeffrey Archer and Dan Brown person (I could ask him for book recs, ig)((actually he did give me book recs but my adhd ass forgot about them))(((maybe I could ask him to regive me those book recs)))((((God I'm such a disaster bisexual)))). And. According to a mutual friend he always goes into bookstores when they bunk classes and browses through all the books and like. Wow. Samesies.

N E ways, aside from being a cute bookworm, he's got an American Accent, he fucking knows ballet (ballet!!) and he's genuinely thoughtful and nice like. There was this one time in the metro when one of my friends, a Muslim girl, was standing even though there was an empty seat next to me, and she said she didn't want to sit everytime I asked her to; the boy was sitting on the opposite side and he texted me all like "You should scoot, she's probably uncomfortable sitting next to a man" (cause there was a stranger dude on the other side of the empty seat) and he was right cause after I scooted she did sit down and I was like. In awe. (There was a moment afterwards when we locked eyes and smiled at each other all like "mission accomplished" lol)

Uhhhh okay. Phew. Anyways. How tf do I talk to him. I don't have a crush on him yet (but i most definitely will if he keeps going like this sjsjsjs he's already a fucking catch) but at the very least I'd like to be friends and I just. Don't know how. Cause I'm a social disaster along with being a disaster bisexual. Please help. 🥲🙏

*me looking around all the very REAL crushes on very REAL people* wtf is going on with yall? what happened to being obsessed with fictional people???

Jk. Okay. He sounds very sweet and nice. Let's do this.

If you are usually not sure what to talk about with a stranger/new person, it's always best to talk about THEIR interests. People (especially introverts) feel more comfortable talking about things they like instead of things they are unfamiliar with.

Here are some prompts:

Don't ask him to re-rec the books. Say you looked into the books. (Maybe Dan Brown). You don't know which one to start with. Ask him which one is his favorite. Even questions like 'which one would you think I would like?' (these are questions that can push the questions into you getting into know each other)

Piggybacking on Dan Brown - Ask him if he has watched the movie adaptations too. Go on about book-to-movie adaptations. Does he like them? What's his favorite? What's the worst adaptation and why is it PJO? This is a another topic for you to talk about.

Ask him for bookstore recommendations. What kind of books are there in the bookstores they visit? Tell him how you usually buy your books. What's the bookstore? Do you order online? Ask - while also revealing random tidbits about yourself.

Most importantly, if you have his fucking number bro, send him memes. Introverts love memes. Send memes about fandoms or even just reading. No context. Just send memes randomly. Like if you see something and if you feel like he would relate or find it funny, just send it. That's it.

Let's start here, shall we?

[mirrorforevers]

silently • graham coxon/reader

this is a direct result of this prompt right here

don’t b sorry love, we’re all horny here. this prompt immediately took me out of my writer’s block so yeah gsdjsdhgsdj it was a blessing! tysm for sending it n i rly rly hope u enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it aaaaa i literally couldn’t stop. this one has a special place in my heart now.

also please tell me whatchu think abt this one on my askbox! unbeta’ed bc i love danger

word count: 2.809

warnings: smut. shameless, fast paced fluffy smut.

You couldn't understand why the hell he was so nervous. On the way to your parents' home he asked more questions than a 4-year-old on their way to a park - what are they like, what do they like to do, do they know Blur? Do you think they will find my shoe ridiculous? I'm sure they'll think I’m a weirdo. What did you tell them about me? Even the many kisses you gave him were not enough to calm him down, leaving you to assure him that even if your parents didn't like him - which would be impossible, Graham was never better and more pleasant to live with - you would continue to like him. Very much.

Couldn't live without him, actually.

When you arrive at the door, your mother greets you with a wide, surprised smile - it didn't even seem like she had been begging to meet Graham for months and meticulously planned every minute of the time you would spend together. Her friendly posture seemed to make him more comfortable, the fact that your father was traveling also ended up making him more relaxed. “Dads are always frightening,” he’d say. He agreed to spend the rest of the night there after having an extremely pleasant dinner.

While he does the dishes, you and your mother clean the table when you decide to stop by the kitchen to talk to your boyfriend.

"It wasn't that difficult, was it?" You ask, a daring tone in your voice.

He smiles sheepishly. "Everything went significantly better than I thought it would, honestly."

“You did well. Not that she is hard to please, but you are really sweet.” You kiss him on the cheek. (It's so cute how he still blushes at these things after months of dating.)

"Thank you, love."

"I mean it. I think you deserve a gift for being like this.”

He looks at you, starting to pay even greater attention to the direction of the conversation. “And what do you have in mind?”

You whisper in his ear in the most seemingly innocuous tone you can feign. “I, for one, think you should fuck me senseless in the room upstairs.” He smiles, gaze a little lost in his surroundings as it usually goes whenever he’s pleasantly disconcerted by your dirty talk. Your hands travel his body subtly under his shirt. He hisses: “Can’t wait.” His voice is weak. You love to tease him like that.

You give him a little peck where his mouth and cheek meet – and then you motion to leave after a wink. “See you in a few minutes.”

“Babies, sorry to interrupt,” your mom arrives at the door, instantly killing off the whole mood you’ve created. “I forgot to tell you, but some other people from our family will be here in a few minutes. We’re not done yet!”

Graham’s really confused. You shrug and give him some context – “My family just loves gatherings in general. And they’re excited that I have a boyfriend now, apparently.” To which your mom points: “Exactly! They want to meet you too, Coxon!”

You can feel the anxiety building in him again already. He’s so uncomfortable it hurts, and you know his head is spinning. He doesn’t want to let you down, and after your mom leaves, you go back to calming him down again. “Baby, it’s okay, I promise. If you­’re too overwhelmed we--”

“No, no. I signed up for this. I’ll be okay. I’ll have a drink or two…”

You completely discard this possibility. No associating alcohol to social abilities anymore after everything he went through because of it. “No. We’ll find other ways to calm you down.” After some seconds of a silent yet intense brainstorm, you have an idea. But you won’t tell him. “Ok, I know what to do to take your mind off the pressure. Just wait and see, and no beers, alright?”

“Alright… I guess.”

After giving him yet another peck while he finishes cleaning the plates, you quickly run upstairs to change from the tight jeans and band shirt you’re wearing to a very light and flimsy sundress. And that’s all the clothing you choose. It fits you well, and leaves not much to the imagination. You know it’s a family gathering, but it’s also summer, so no severe dress codes were being enforced in any significant way.

He reads your mind the moment he sees you in the dress, shaking his head in pleased disbelief at the sight. He mouths a small “you didn’t” while a stupidly joyful smile slowly shines over the tight expression of worry he once had. To which you mouth back: “I did.” You then go back to playfully teasing each other a bit while you take care of the sudden assembly’s preparations.

Your family members arrive and, as expected, they’re really thrilled to meet your guy. Graham answers so many questions, and ends up sharing so much of how he feels about you with them, and bit by bit, the warmth and wholesome aura of your closest relatives makes him feel truly welcomed. He feels like he knows you even better now, now that he knows where your energy and vitality come from. He could see bits of your personality in every single one of them – of course you are still the splendid whole, but still. It made sense.

Also, you noticed he didn’t take his eyes off you the entire time. He was hungry and you’re glad your plan worked. It was easier to forget about how hard sociability is when his mind was somewhere else.

After a while, though, you could sense him getting fidgetier. Even though he was considerably and visibly more relaxed than he was a few hours ago, that amount of social interaction, specially while sober, still drained a lot of his energy. You take his hands, announcing you two were getting something else to eat. You go to the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the lights, and though the house is empty you two could still hear the enthusiastic discussion your family is having outside, slightly drowned by the distance and the walls separating you now.

“You did so great, baby.” You smile, giving him a victory kiss while he envelops you in a tight hug. He’s proud of himself too, and he deserves to feel like that. “They love you already.”

“They’re just like you, in a way. I’m glad everything went well,” he sounds relieved, still tired, but relieved. “I couldn’t stop thinking about that proposal you made me earlier, though.”

“I know,” You plant a chaste kiss on his jaw. “I felt your eyes on me.”

This second kiss he gives you feels different. It’s longer. Famished. Purposeful. His hands are friskier now, traveling hastily throughout your body, and you alternate between giving in and becoming progressively more alert of your surroundings. You can have an idea of where this is heading. The swirling of his tongue around yours makes you dizzy, and the feeling somewhat akin to an electric shock – but milder, and definitely more carnal – that flows through your body when he bites your lower lip and brings your hips closer to his brings you back to reality. “We have to be careful,” you whisper, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air.

“I promise I’ll be. You look delicious in this dress, I… don’t know where to start.” He cups your cheeks while drawing imaginary lines across your lips with the tip of his thumbs.

“Think fast. Never took you for a quickie guy.” You chuckle.

“I like to take my time, yes, but some things can’t wait.”

And with that, with the dexterity and carefulness of a cat, he sinks to his knees in front of you, lifting up your dress with one hand and one of your legs with the other, your leg now resting on one of his large shoulders. He takes hold of your hips, angling you toward him. You hiss in anticipation, and you can feel your core burning in expectation too. Your hands now firmly grab the counter behind you for support while you turn behind you with attentive eyes to see if no one’s coming. You’re safe, for now. The thrill of getting caught is one that will never get old.

His eyes seek yours for reassurance. You, without a word, give it to him. You both look lovely bathed in moonlight. He teases you first, kissing and sucking at the skin on your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to your center until after a couple minutes of that sweet agony his lips graze across that aching part of you.

He flicks his tongue delicately through your folds, playing with your wetness. The way his hands caress your lifted thigh so delicately while his tongue inscribes poems to your clit is something that makes your stomach flutter, you simply can’t ignore those tiny adorable actions that make loving him so addictive and rewarding. Keeping yourself silent and struggling to remain somewhat composed to anyone who might see you from outside is a painfully arousing contradiction to the sensations you’re feeling. He’s doing his best to fuck you up, gradually setting a rhythmic pace to his movements with the intent to release the spring now starting to coil tightly low in your abdomen.

“Jesus, Gra—f-fuck. Fuck.” You whisper, breathlessly, while simultaneously suppressing a moan when he delves his tongue even deeper in your core, your fingers instinctively curling and closing a fist on his hair, making him groan. You buck your hips against his lips and you can feel sweat beading on the backs of your knees, heart threatening to jump out of your mouth by how fast it’s racing.

You suddenly freeze when you hear a voice from outside approaching the kitchen and you lightly tap his shoulder. Graham stops on command, but he won’t get up until he’s absolutely certain he should. He sprinkles your thigh with small kisses again, eyes droopy with the high from giving you the pleasure he knows he’s giving you while he admires you. The person heading for the kitchen takes a turn to the opposite side and you sigh in relief. “False alarm. Go on, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You notice he’s panting, and you can only guess how hard he is, judging by the tone of his voice. The time you spent frozen wasn’t enough to completely burn out the fire he’d already created within you, but he’s determined to give you an orgasm before anyone can interrupt you again – now he had two fingers moving, stroking, curling inside of you in delightful ways while his tongue began to work your clit in tight little circles. You could feel him moaning against your sex, he really liked this. And fuck, he was good at it. He slips one more finger into you, his ring finger, making your pleasure soon explode into a trembling climax. You couldn’t stop the little sound you made and he kisses your thigh in reply while still lazily fucking you with his fingers. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers.

One of your hands move to your mouth in order to cover the sound you really want to make. Graham, once again, looks really proud of himself.

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you and cleans them with his tongue before he lifts up again as inconspicuously as possible. You try to look like nothing happened, and you’re both glad that, apparently, no one’s giving a single fuck to whatever’s going on where you are. Given the realization, you look at each other and giggle. He then pulls you in a hug, voice husky when he teases, and confesses, “You can’t imagine how bad I want to fuck you right here. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“We’ll have to take this to the bedroom, love.” You reply, still recovering from your orgasm. You can’t risk more than you’ve already risked. He looks slightly…

Disappointed.

You smile. “You thrill-seeking bastard. You enjoyed this way too much, didn’t you?”

“Didn’t you?” He questions back, tickling your sides, a wide, satisfied smile on his face. God, you loved him so much. He pulls you back to him again, and you turn to the other side so he can grind against you from behind. He’s rock hard. “We have some thick curtains here, after all.” You say, mischievously, before you close the curtains as carefully as possible. He lifts up your dress once again, this time high enough so he can fill his hands with your breasts, and he, agonizingly slowly, teases your nipples with his fingertips while he keeps grinding against you. This, alone, gets you motivated enough for another round. “God, Coxon, you’re going to be the death of me.” Your voice’s painfully needy, just like every other part of you.

You spread your legs a little wider to give him better access to you. Feeling cool air against your bare ass, you bite your lip and screw your eyes shut when his hand squeezes your butt. “Dripping wet for me. You’re glistening.” He quietly notes, giving your butt a little kiss - you then look over your shoulder to watch him get his jeans open. His hard cock bounces against your ass as he pushes his boxers down. You wiggle to get him inside you while he tortuously slowly runs the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy. When it bumps against your sensitive clit, you can’t stop the mewl of his name.

After a few more hard breaths, he was inside you. You’re hungry for him too, and the sound of your body clashing against his is something unbelievable. You begin in a faster pace than the one you’re used to – and that’s not a problem. At all. Speed is of essence, but you’re also starving for each other. It feels like no contact is ever 100% enough.

Your hands keep firmly gripping the balcony and when he lowers his chest against your back you can’t hold back the involuntary gasp that leaves your throat and echoes through the empty house. One of his large hands holds your hips in place while he fucks you mercilessly, the other one covers your mouth hastily – his shaky voice betrays how badly this is affecting him too. “Shhh, love. You don't want anyone seeing you in that state. So fucking tight around me.”

He was sinking more deeply into you with each thrust now, and trying to keep your eyes open while his now awaken dominant side is doing that to you, exactly the way you want him to, is torture. You feel like you’re going to pass out from the all the sensorial and contextual stimulation. “You want me to come inside you, baby?” To which you keenly reply with a nod, not bothering to uncover your mouth. This was perfect.

He edged his hips back so he reaches your most sensitive spot and his grip on your mouth constricts when he notices how loud you want to be. “Feels like a dream inside you but keep. Quiet.” His voice lowers to a breathy whisper against your throat and the hands that were holding your hips in place now snaked to the front of your body to help you get off. And like that, you do, coming a second time, this orgasm even more intense than the last. The way your walls twitch around his dick is enough to push him over the edge too, and you feel him spilling inside you. You milk him of every drop, and after you both ride off your high, you feel a tender kiss that lasts for a while in your scalp, a silent “thank you” while he slips out of you.

You put your dress back on place, trying to compose yourself before you can look another human in the eye again. You have a positively overwhelmed, just-woke-up-from-an-incredible-dream look on your face. “You better not get me addicted to this kind of risky shit.”

He laughs while he also does his best to look like not one hair or piece of clothing ever went out of place. “Sorry, Y/N, I think I already did.”

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Hiii agaiiin ^^ I saw that you're open for prompts so here I go Chisei gets a little birthday surprise from female MC 😍 You know I'm obsessed with Chisei lol I love your writing!!!

(a/n: obsessed? I say dedicated!)

“Chisei Gen should be here tommorow! I heard its his birthday!”

I looked up from my school work! “Oh... that sucks.”

Lu sighed. “Come on Carli, I know you don’t have good memories of Japan but that’s not his fault!”

I closed my book and stood up from my desk in the massive Norton Hall Library. “That’s not what I meant.” I stretched my lithe body toward the ceiling. “It’s his birthday and he gets a 14 hours plane ride to be with people who aren’t his friends.” I swung my arms down glaring at Lu. “That sucks.”

“Oh... I guess you’re right. What should we get him?”

“He doesn’t need more stuff. And he probably wouldn’t want us to get him anything. How old is he?” 

“I’m not sure...” He scratched his chin. “Twenty five? I think?”

“Old!”

Lu stuttered in shock. “How is that old?”

I continued to tease. “I’ll be shocked if he remembers how old he is without subtracting his birth year!” I glanced down at my feet. I didn’t know Chisei that well.  A lonely old sword swinger who didn’t hesitate to kill. Was a birthday a really happy occasion?

I went upstairs to my room, and entered the massive walk-in closet where I kept all the clothes I’d purchased during Paris Fashion Week to pick out what to wear. Johann had spoiled me, appreciating anything I got him and often telling me directly what he wanted.   “Siri, text Johann.”

“What’s the message?”

“It’s Chisei’s birthday tomorrow. What should I get him?”

The phone vibrated. “Just your company should be fine.” came the response.

I rolled my eyes, rifling through the dresses. “Siri, Text Johann.”

“Sure what’s the message!” Said the phone.

 “No seriously, what should I get him.” I said, I pulled out a cute little blue sundress before deciding against it.

The phone read the message back to me. “No  seriously, what should I get him... send this message now?”

“Yes.”

The phone buzzed. “I am serious.” He replied.

I paused, staring at the phone. Why did he always make me feel so special?  He was typing.

“I know why you feel the way you do. But Chisei isn’t a bad person. What happened in Japan had nothing to do with either of you. Let it go.”

“To the point as always.” I pouted. “Well, I know what to get him now.”

I met Chisei the next day, dressed like a princess in a rosy pink pantsuit and heels. He came out of the helicopter, the wind from the blades tossing his long dark jacket. The lining of it had a beautiful painting of the ocean. He looked down at me with a serious, blank expression. I smiled back at him and bowed. “Welcome!”

He returned my bow. I had no idea what he was thinking. But it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t here to see me anyway. As the top student at Cassell, I was required to be here to meet the next High Patriarch. The real star of the show was Anjou. He’d been a student here, I learned, and they knew each other.

“How was your flight?” I asked, keeping up the bright, effervescent tone of voice.

“Uneventful.” He glanced at me. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“Not at all!”

Anjou smiled at me around his cigar. “She’s quite the charmer, isn’t she?”

“Yes... When I heard it was her who would be meeting me, I was surprised at such a young student being the top of her class.”

“She’s a prodigy, and only growing more amazing with experience.” Anjou beckoned us. “Let’s go inside.”

I made sure to sit next to him through all the meetings, discussing boring things at best, unpleasant things at worst. The visit ended with dinner: steak with well seasoned vegetables. Chisei had relaxed somewhat. I knew things had been tense between the Cassell divisions, but I wasn’t sure about the details given I was gone so long. 

He didn’t talk about himself, but asked me about what I’d done here at Cassell. I was more than happy to tell him about the missions I’d gone on and about the Day of Liberty.

At the end of the visit, things were much more smoothed over. We took our bows goodbye and I handed him a business card with my number on it. “Also, this is for you.”

I handed him a small box.

“You didn’t have to...” 

“Oh... yes I did.” I winked at him.

Inside the box, Chisei would find a small golden pendent of Chinese characters on a thin chain. 

宽恕 

I received a message from Chisei later that evening.

“Thank you for your thoughtful gift. It means a lot to me. More than I can explain.”

(a/n)  宽恕 is the Chinese characters for extending heartfelt forgiveness. Often used in religious context to refer to the forgiveness of God.

Master List

[sleepykalena]

Cassian’s stare was the peculiar kind of blank that told her he was not pleased. She knew he could tell what she was up to but he wouldn’t have any idea why. That was the exciting part. ~ Happy Saturday! Sorry I like to pick snippets that don't make much sense without context. Not long left until the big reveal, I hope your animation is going well! I know this sounds trite but I'm sure your giftee will love it. I don't know much about art but your style is super cute.

(part 2) And tbh I love sharing excerpts, I mean I physically have to stop myself from sharing every tidbit that I think turns out well. So I might still drop by next week to send you something. Until then, have a great weekend :)

dude i know EXACTLY how you feel about the excerpt sharing. I’ve had to stop showing my progress on my gift to some friends because i wanted to keep it under wraps (esp since my giftee is a follower, and i don’t want them to figure out it’s me). This snippet is making me pretty excited; i feel like it’s going to be pretty light-hearted and i kind of need that right now.

also, thanks so much about the comment on my art style! i don’t really get reblogs (much less comments) on my art, so i keep thinking people don’t like it- it feels like it doesn’t suit their interests or blog’s aesthetics or whatnot. i’ve even filled a fanart prompt that went unnoticed by the requester, so it’s just been safe to assume that my style isn’t really wanted here. This animation is going to be the last hail mary before I move my fanart elsewhere, so I want to at least make it count. problem is that my giftee is pretty particular about their prompt, so fingers crossed that they’ll like it! it’d mean a lot if they actually did (like, really, truly, legitimately like it).

Out of curiosity, when is your posting date? I want to make sure i’m online, or at least near a computer to catch the post when it happens. Tumblr’s been eating asks again (purging porn AND asks? tsk tsk blue hellsite). It’d also just be nice to make sure I at least respond and reblog to it on time so it doesn’t look like i ignore you. Good luck on the rest of your gift! I’m excited to read it, and i feel like i need to buy some hot chocolate to drink as i take it in

[moku-youbi]

Spideypool slow build friends to lovers, based on the prompt:

For some reason, Peter thinks Deadpool knows his secret identity so he thinks it’s not a big deal to chat with the merc in his civilian identity whenever he bumps into him in various locations. Wade, meanwhile, is confused on why a cute but grouchy nerd keeps talking to him like they know each other but hey, it’s New York! Eccentrics are everywhere and this guy is really cute and doesn’t seem to mind hanging out with him! Also somehow they ended up maybe-or-maybe-not on a date???

Also on AO3

“Wade!”

So, it’s not unheard of for someone to know his name, but more often than not they tend to call him Deadpool when he’s wearing the suit. He likes to think it’s a sign of respect.

[Or pant-shitting terror]

Wade looks up from the screen of his phone where he’s been destroying the shit out of the Imperius, and turns to find the source of his name. “Hey,” the guy says, giving a friendly wave, and puts on a little speed to catch up with him.

“Hey,” Wade says back cautiously.

The guy is really rocking the hot nerd look. Fitted t-shirt with a cartoonish representation of the periodic table under a blue hoodie proclaiming something about the element of surprise. Wavy brown hair that looks incredibly soft to the touch flops across his forehead with a little curl. He’s got a perfectly even and white smile, and brown eyes a guy could get lost in, behind round-rimmed glasses.

He neatly cuts his way through the crowd on the path with his skateboard and skids to a stop when he reaches Wade. Taps his toe against the tail and neatly snaps the board up to his waiting hand, not missing a beat falling in stride with Wade’s gait.

Wade lets out a little whistle. “Sweet moves.”

[[Check out those sweet little cheeks!]]

“Right,” Wade agrees distractedly. There’s a pretty pink flush in the apple of the kid’s cheeks, whether from the exertion or unseasonable heat. And he’s taken by the impulse to lick them.

[Don’t do it.]

“Bet they taste like strawberry, mmm.”

[[I meant his other cheeks.]]

And oh, yes, Wade can now confirm it. “Oh sweet Sandra Dee, thanks for the skinny jeans,” he mutters. Skateboarding does a body good, apparently. On top of that sinfully adorable face, he’s got an ass to move Sir Mix-a-Lot to compose odes.

[Yeah so why is he talking to us?]

[[Maybe he’s got us confused with someone else?]]

It wouldn’t be the first time someone thought he was Spidey, but still, “He called us Wade.”

“Oh,” the kid’s cheeks darken at that. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Do you prefer Deadpool?” He looks so honestly contrite, chewing his pillowy bottom lip between his teeth in a way that should be fucking illegal, eyes cast at the ground.

So, points for not being deterred by Wade talking to himself. “Nah, kid, you can call me whatever the fuck you want.”

His shoulders sag in relief. “Sorry, I just--secret identities and all that. I didn’t want to out you or something.”

[[Oh shit! He’s adorable…]]

Wade laughs out loud. “I think that boat sailed a long goddamn time ago.” It isn’t like he’s ever tried very hard to hide. It wouldn’t take an intrepid reporter to follow the threads from his business page on Facebook and put two and two together..

“What are you doing down here on campus anyway?” the guy asks.

There’s a weird familiarity about his tone and posture, and it’s true that Wade is pretty far from home today but he’s pretty sure he’d remember that baby-face if he’d seen it before. On the other hand, he has spent the better part of the past few years feeling like he’s missed a step, so this conversation isn’t exactly anything new.

[[A hot guy is willingly talking to us. Go with it.]]

[Don’t make an ass of yourself.]

“Shaddup,” Wade grumbles, though Yellow has a point. He pats his belly. “Had a craving. There’s, ah, this little hole in the wall place down Bleeker that has chilaquiles to die for.”

The kid lets out this sound, and it’s not Wade’s fault there’s an answering stir in his groin. A saint wouldn’t be able but help to imagine that groan in a different context. Is this kid for fucking real?

“Medina’s?” he says. “Damn it, your craving is contagious. If I didn’t have an exam at two I’d totally join you.”

Wade laughs nervously, rubs at the back of his neck where the velcro of the mask digs into his skin. Civilians don’t usually come up and talk to him, let alone invite themselves along to lunch. They generally avert their eyes and give him a wide berth.

“Maybe next time,” he says, which is fucking stupid. The next time he stumbles upon the one implausibly hot New Yorker who actually instigates conversation with him.

Then the guy reaches out and snatches the phone right out of Wade’s fingers, board tucked under one arm, and taps add new contact. “It’s a date.”

[[Did he just--]]

[No fucking way.]

Wade hits himself upside the head. Maybe something got wired back the wrong way and he’s just hallucinating all this. “I think that Kree Sentry did more damage than I first realised…”

The guy pauses, brows pulled together and slight pout to his lips. He lays a hand on Wade’s arm. “I really wanted to thank you for that,” he says. “You saved all our asses, and I know The Avengers weren’t very gracious about it, but I really appreciate what you did.”

[Jesus, is this kid for real?]

There’s a curious prickling at the corner of Wade’s eyes, which is fucking ridiculous. It’s just...no one ever thanks Deadpool, whether it’s those holier-than-thou douchebags under Stark’s banner, or some rando getting the stick-up. Don’t they realise he’s not even getting paid for this shit?

“Uh. Thanks?”

The guy hip-checks him and rolls his eyes up at Wade from under impossibly long lashes. “You’re supposed to say you’re welcome,” he says, singing the last bit, voice dropped into a lower register that still comes nowhere close to Dwayne Johnson.

He turns his attention back to the phone, and Wade notices that he’s hesitating over the field for his name. Finally, after several seconds, he types out Peter and gives Wade a smile that’s trying to be a lot braver than it actually is. Wade’s fingers are nerveless when Peter hands the phone back over, and he fumbles not to drop it.

“So, uh…” Peter reaches up to tug at the straps of the bookbag on his shoulder. “Text me, maybe?” There’s a hopeful lilt to his voice, like he wants to be flirty but has no idea how to go about it.

Wade has to remind himself that gaping open-mouthed, even in the mask, is not an attractive look. He closes his mouth with a sharp click and gives a nod. Neither he nor the boxes trust him to speak at the moment.

Peter drops his board to the ground and climbs on with a graceful shift of balance that sends him off the path. “See ya later, ‘Pool!” he calls, with another little wave in parting.

He’s already gone before Wade can get his body to cooperate and wave back.