baby with the one eyebrow

a lot of ya’ll say you love asian girls but do you love the fat asian girls? do you love the tan and dark skinned asian girls ? do you love the ones with hyper pigmentation and acne? do you love the ones with baby hairs and the ones with thick lips and thin eyebrows? do you love the asian girls with monolids? do you love the ones that have a lot of body hair? will you love muslim and hindu asian girls? do you support the asian girls who aren’t pale as paper and thin and tall with perfect skin?


Sure beats the heck outta the name I’ve been using for her ( ’-_-)


Hey! Here it is - finally, right? I know it took a bit longer than I said, but I hope the imagine itself makes up for that. I really, really liked writing this. (I actually almost cried.)

Warnings: A few minor swears, Wade Wilson is a precious baby who’ll make you cry. 

Your name: submit What is this?

“Really, Wade? Really?” You raised an eyebrow, one hand on your hip. It always amazed you how expressive he could be without his face showing. For example, right now all you could see of him was the familiar red mask and black-and white eye patches. But you could swear he was smirking. You just knew.

“Really what, Y/N? Could you be a bit more specific?”

“Why did you explode the couch?!” you exclaimed. “We needed that for movie night.”

“Okay, first off, it was totally Parker’s fault,” he started, stepping out from behind the smoking heap of slag the used to be your couch. “Secondly, you hated that couch anyway.”

You huffed. “Not the point, Wilson.” You dropped your purse onto the table beside the door. “What possible reason could you have for exploding the couch?”

“There was an ant on it. I was bored. It was laced with arsenic. It-”

“Okay, okay!” you laughed. “Look, I know it’s boring hiding out from pissed-off Avengers in your girlfriend’s apartment. But I brought chips for movie night.” You held up the grocery bag enticingly.

“Oh happy day!” Wade leapt to his feet, jumped over the remains of the couch and knelt in front of you. He hugged around your waist and looked up at you. “You. Have. No. Food,” he said plaintively. “If I can’t leave, how am I supposed to eat?”

“I dunno. Magic or something?” You tilted your head. “Aren’t you a superhero? Magic yourself some food. Call Thor in for a favor, he seems like he’d have food.”

“Oh, that’d go great,” he said. “Hey, it’s me, the guy who stole Captain America’s shield for shits and giggles. Got any food?” He tilted his head. “And I’m a mercenary.”

“Right.” you leaned down close to him and planted a little kiss on his forehead, wishing more than ever that you could see his face. “You’re not a superhero and I’m not in love with you.”

“You’re not?” He gasped and drew back, standing up and putting a hand over his heart. “You wound me, Y/N. After all this time.” He wiped away an imaginary tear.

“Oh, just come here and kiss me, you ass.”

And he did. His hands – gloved, of course – massaged your shoulder blades. It had felt odd, at first, kissing him through the mask. But you were used to it. And hey, never any garlic breath. It was a good kiss, the kind that sent warmth through your veins, but…but. It was sort of muted, in a way, like the volume was lowered. Or like some asshole had stolen your iPod, changed the passcode, put on a volume lock and put it back. (not that Wade had ever done that – or so he said.)

“I missed you today,” you murmured, setting your head on his chest. “I was worried.”

“About me? Pshh. Please. The only thing I was worried about was starving to death.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “I was pretty sure I left food in the fridge.”

“Whaaat? Who said that?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Heh. I might’ve sorta worked out too much and…um…eatenallthefoodinyourapartment.”

“Ha. Knew it.” You pulled away from him and stepped back into your shoes, throwing your purse over your shoulder.

“Where’re you going now?” he complained. “You literally just got back.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have to if someone hadn’t literally eaten me out of house and home.”

“…Oh, house and home. Sorry, I had a little trouble hearing that bit.”

“Wade!” you smacked his arm. “I have to go get groceries,” you tossed over your shoulder. “And a couch.”


There was something pretty special about movie night for you. The entire apartment was dark except for the few feet around the TV. There was just you, Wade, the popcorn and the movie. Although there had been times when the movie became increasingly irrelevant as…things…happened on the couch.

This was such a time.

There wasn’t a couch (who can afford to just buy a couch and carry it home that day?) but you’d made a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor in front of the TV, and you weren’t even sure what the movie was anymore.

“Close your eyes,” Wade said, voice low and husky. His masked face was centimeters from yours, so close you could feel his breath on your lips. An ache spread through your chest and down into the tips of your fingers.

“No,” you complained. “I want to see you.”

Wade tensed, fingers tightening around your arms a little. But he didn’t draw back. “Please close your eyes?” he whispered. The tone of his voice struck a note of pity in your heart. Hating that it had to be this way, you obeyed. In the darkness behind your eyelids, sparks and stars went off. You listened to twin heartbeats. Yours and his. His and yours. In tandem, in harmony. Why, why, why was he so afraid?

Rough, warm lips touched yours. The sparks you saw took on a golden note like fireworks. Kissing him back, you felt filled with heat and light.  You found his shoulders by feel in the dark and massaged them, as his hand cradled the back of your head.

“Wade,” you murmured, eyes still closed. “Please. Please let me see you. I love you.”

You heard his breath catch sharply; he drew back. You opened your eyes. He’d pulled down the mask again, but his hunched posture told you he was suffering. “Please,” you said again.

His shoulders were hunched up almost to his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck, then sighed wearily.

“Okay. Alright, I’ll do it.”

Hope sprang up wild and hot in your core; your heart pounded. You didn’t dare move in case it broke the spell – you didn’t want to scare him. Had to be cautious, gentle.

“Just -” he hesitated. “Please don’t scream, okay? It – it’s pretty horrible.”

Your heart ached for him. Oh, Wade, you thought. What did they do to you? “I won’t,” you swore. “I promise.”

Slowly, achingly slowly, he pulled up the bottom of the red mask up and over his head.

And there he was. Him, all of him, the real him for the first time.

The shape of his face was lovely – high cheekbones, strong jaw and eyes the richest brown you’d ever seen. The skin of his face was rough; a patchwork of healthy skin and silvery scars, and he had no hair at all. No eyebrows, even – above his eyes there were thick ridges of skin like on a lizard (so it wasn’t like he had none.) He was totally exaggerating – it didn’t look like something easy to live with, sure, but horrible wasn’t the right word. Not even close.

You drank in the sight of him, and then noticed he was…tensed, flinching away from you. Like he was expecting you to react violently, like he was bracing for impact. Something twisted in your heart, an ache of pity so strong it made it hard to breathe. Baby, no.

“Oh, Wade,” you murmured, throat thick with tears.

“I know,” he said. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s disgusting. I’m disgus-”

Beautiful,” you breathed, reaching out a gentle hand to touch his cheek.

He went sill as stone, still as a lake before dawn. Something lit up in his lovely brown eyes.“What?” he choked. “What did you say to me?”

“Wade Wilson, you’re beautiful.”

For the space of three heartbeats, nobody said anything. He was still frozen, staring at you in an agony of hope. His eyes glittered with tears.

“N-no…” he swallowed and blinked hard, breath hoarse. “Nobody’s said that to me. Ever. Not even before.”

“Then let’s make up for lost time,” you whispered, and leaned forward. You kissed his left cheek. “Beautiful.” And his right. “Beautiful.”

He shuddered and closed his eyes, and you kissed each eyelid softly as mothwings. All over his face, more times than you could count, you gave him soft kisses and soft words.

You felt his heartbeat hammering in his chest; both of his hands reached up to your face. And then, finally, finally, finally, his unmasked lips found yours.

This time the volume wasn’t lowered – it was going full blast, and every single inch of your skin felt like it must be glowing. Glowing as brightly as your heart, which burned so bright and hot it was almost painful. You kept your eyes wide open and held his face close to yours. His hands caressed the sides of your face, and his lips tasted sweet and this was good, this was right. Nothing else had ever mattered so much as this.

After an eternity of light, he broke away. “I….I love you, Y/N.”

Your lips were tingling and swollen with kisses, but you still smirked. “I know.”

“Did you just Han Solo me?”

You laid your head on his chest and took a deep breath. “Yep.”

The movie went back to the menu screen without either of you noticing.