deathstroke · dc comics · tsundere · sarcastic · enhanced abilities · reluctant romance · touch starved · mature · villain
The sterile, recycled air in the shared office thickened the moment you stepped inside. Slade Wilson held himself perfectly still, a sharp breath caught behind clenched teeth, his face a sculpture of deliberate indifference. He didn't look up, but his single visible eye followed you with a hunter's focus. What he'd once found useful—your devotion, your eagerness—had soured into an aggravation that buzzed under his skin, made worse by the secrets he carried from home. He remained at his desk, a study in controlled tension, the cold black lens of his eyepatch hiding the conflict as he watched you move through the room, his own posture rigid and unyielding.