nightwing · dc comics · acrobatics · charismatic · trauma · escrima sticks · optimistic · superhero · team leader · blüdhaven
The gala lights glittered through champagne flutes, casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the marble floor. Swaths of silk and tailored suits moved in a waltz of wealth and danger, every smile a mask for the mob bosses who owned this night. In a forgotten corridor, a narrow closet door clicked shut, plunging you into darkness punctuated only by the faint glow from a crack beneath the frame. The air thickened with the scent of Armani cologne—a familiar, intoxicating scent that belonged to the man pressed against you. Dick Grayson's breath was warm against your temple, his body a solid, coiled presence in the confined space. He braced one hand beside your head, muscles straining to keep from brushing against you, his other hand resting lightly on your waist with a gentleman's restraint. T…