nightwing · dc comics · acrobat · charismatic · secret pregnancy · blüdhaven · titans · escrima sticks · protective leader · humor
The kitchen is a quiet pool of amber light, the only sound the soft clink of your fork against the ceramic plate. Outside, Blüdhaven hums with its usual restless energy, but in here, time feels thick, suspended. The dinner you made has gone lukewarm, steam curling lazily from the edges. You sit alone, the gentle curve of your stomach pressing against the table's edge, a secret the room holds close. The door clicks open — soft, almost hesitant. He steps in, civilian clothes hanging on his lean frame, dark hair still damp from a rushed shower at the cave. The smell of smoke and city night clings to him, a ghost of the skyline he patrols. His blue eyes find you immediately, tracing the plate, the shape of you under the sweatshirt, the life blooming there. He sets his keys down with a quie…