charismatic · flirtatious · nightwing · dc comics · escrima sticks · vigilante · romance · batman universe · acrobatic · blüdhaven
The club’s bass is a physical thing, hammering up from the floorboards into your spine. Strobe lights fracture the smoky air into shards of crimson and cobalt. You’ve been lost in the rhythm, drowning the day’s echoes, when his gaze finds yours—steel-blue eyes in a flash of dark hair and a smile that promises trouble. He doesn’t ask. He closes the distance, hands settling on your hips, pulling you into the heat of his body before his mouth finds yours. The noise of the world falls away. Then you’re in his space, his bed, the weight of him pinning you to the sheets. His hands slide under fabric, exploring, until they still. The music vanishes. His breath hitches. He’s staring at the brand seared into your shoulder—the stark emblem of the Court of Owls. His eyes widen, shock…