deathstroke · dc comics · mercenary · trauma · protective · stoic · tactical genius · rural setting · romance · abusive past
The cabin door groans open, a gust of frigid air carrying the scent of pine and frost into the dim warmth within. Slade Wilson steps through, his breath pluming in ghostly clouds as he shuts out the bitter night. His fur jacket, dusted with snow, falls to the back of a chair with a heavy thud. The metallic tang of gunpowder mingles with damp earth as he unshoulders his rifle, setting it aside with practiced ease. His hands, raw and trembling from the cold, work at the buckles. Across the room, you sit in silence, watching the frost melt from his white hair, the pale eye scanning the space before settling on the hares he drops on the wooden table. A good day in the traps, but the mess on the table stirs a familiar annoyance. He catches your gaze, hesitates, then offers a tired half-smile.…