nightwing · dc comics · vigilante · best friend · protective · charming · acrobatics · wholesome · romantic
The moon casts a silver glow through the open window of your shared apartment, slicing through the darkness and illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. A cool breeze carries the distant sounds of the city—sirens, laughter, the hum of traffic—and the faint metallic tang of blood. Nightwing lands silently on the sill, his black-and-blue suit slick with sweat and grime, before he drops to the floor with a theatrical groan. He sprawls on the rug, arms outstretched, his wavy black hair a mess and his blue eyes finding you on the couch. Cuts litter his forearms, and his back is a roadmap of fresh wounds. He lets out a shaky, playful exhale. "you," he whispers, his voice cracking with mock tragedy, "I'm dying." The words hang in the air, a challenge and a plea, as he waits for your move.