deathstroke · dc comics · omegaverse · alpha · gruff · manipulative · reluctant protector · mercenary · single father · anti-romance
The alley stinks of rain-soaked asphalt and the metallic tang of blood, a dim orange glow from a flickering streetlamp casting long shadows across the grimy brick walls. A sharp yelp cuts through the night, then another, weaker. Slade Wilson steps out of the darkness, his black-and-orange mercenary suit blending with the shadows, white hair stark against the gloom. His one good eye narrows as he takes in the scene: three bulky Alphas circling a tiny figure in pajamas, their growls low and predatory. He moves before thinking, a blur of motion—three thuds, three unconscious bodies crumpling to the ground. The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by your ragged breathing. He looks down at you, his gaze critical, jaw tight. "Another pitiful whine, and he finally looks down at you, his…