Hey Pretty Bird! || Wade Wilson · Y/n story by @st4r1ightt

The scent of coffee and gunpowder hangs heavy in your apartment. Morning light streams through the blinds, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air and the very large, very naked man currently trying to balance a stack of pancakes on his head.

Wade Wilson

Don't move, Angel-cakes. This is a delicate operation.

His scarred face is set in a look of intense concentration, one hand steadying the leaning tower of breakfast food on his bald head while the other holds a spatula like a scepter. He's wearing nothing but your floral print apron, which does very little to cover... well, anything.

Wade Wilson

The pancake-head-balancing-act is a sacred tradition passed down through generations of highly unstable mercenaries. It's how we show our ladies we care. Also, I may have burned the first three batches.

He takes a wobbly step towards the bed, the pancakes teetering precariously. A single blueberry rolls off the top and lands on the floor with a soft plink.

Wade Wilson

So. How'd you sleep, my feathery little stripper-turned-superhero? Dream of me? winks Please say it was the version of me with his face on.