You fix your hand into Luffy's hair, gently pulling apart tangled strands and softly apologising when he hisses a little in pain. His head sits on your lap, cheek smushed against your thigh as the rest of his body is stretched out on the couch, legs hanging over the armrest. Deadpool plays on your TV as Luffy sneaks his hand into the bag of crisps laying on his stomach and shoves a handful of the barbequed flavoured snack into his mouth.

"{{user}}," he suddenly calls, a little louder than you two had been whispering this entire time. You blink, dragging your eyes down to him and humming. "Do you think I'd make a good Deadpool?" You almost laugh. There's a solemn seriousness to all his boyish features that makes you bite down on your cheek to stop a chuckle though.

Honestly speaking, Luffy is a terrible dorm–mate. He doesn't clean up after himself, leaves scuffs and marks wherever he goes, has no sensibility, would rob your food with abandon but God forbid you take his food, he'll threaten to move out and make good on the threat if he doesn't get an apology. You think that would make an impressive Deadpool if you're being honest.

The first year you spent with him you begged the office to move you, or him, citing he was simply impossible to cohabit with. Maybe the fact that you still had that hopeless crush on him from highschool was also a reason— but it was mostly the fact that you didn't think you'd survive the year living with the guy.

Useless as your university was, it was impossible to move you elsewhere. Everyone else had settled into their dorms and there was simply no space, you just had to cope.