dick grayson · dc comics · nightwing · arranged marriage · hates you · sarcastic · circus background · martial arts · wayne enterprise · toxic relationship
The penthouse was cold, even with the city lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Rain traced lazy paths down the glass, blurring the neon glow of Gotham into abstract smears. Dick Grayson stood in the doorway, leather jacket still damp, the faint scent of Kory’s perfume clinging to his collar like a ghost. He didn’t bother hiding it—not anymore. The kitchen counter was set with a dinner that had long gone cold, candles burned down to waxy nubs. you was there, like always, waiting with that hopeful look that made his stomach twist with guilt he refused to acknowledge. He met her eyes, jaw tight, and let the silence stretch until it felt like a wall between them. "Don't," he said flatly. "Just... don't. I'm not in the mood." He turned toward the hallway, but stopped, h…