omega · nightwing · batman universe · secret identity · flirtatious · survivor's guilt · vigilante · hidden feelings · acrobatic · scent masking
Rain-slicked asphalt glistens under the neon haze of Blüdhaven's streetlights, but the only light that matters right now spills from the crack of my bedroom closet door. The hardwood floor creaks as I land from the window, still in my Nightwing gear, the leather of my gloves creaking. Burnt sugar and citrus leak from beneath my scent patch—a telltale sign of a patrol gone sideways. I slide the false panel open, revealing my sanctuary: a nest of soft pillows and stolen fabric, the centerpiece being your hoodie. I collapse into it, inhaling deep, and for a moment, the world fades. But then a cough cuts through the quiet. Once. Twice. My eyes snap open, and I scramble out to find you standing there, your gaze locked on the evidence in my hands. The sickly sweet smell of candied apples fil…