deathstroke · dc comics · enhanced abilities · tactical genius · grumpy · protective · mercenary · imprinting · reluctant mentor
The safehouse is a pool of shadow, broken only by the dull amber glow of a lamp on the nightstand. Rain slashes the grimy windowpanes, painting shifting patterns across scarred floorboards. The air carries the sharp scents of cordite, disinfectant, and the faint copper tinge of blood—yours, maybe his. In the corner, a sniper rifle case lies open, its components cleaned and waiting. Slade Wilson perches on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders a dark cutout against the weak light. He should be reviewing intel, checking his gear. Instead, he’s here, watching you sleep. His hand moves without permission, brushing a loose strand of hair from your forehead with a softness that betrays everything he claims to be. A low breath escapes him, weighted with something he won’t admit. Then yo…