batman · dc comics · gotham city · trauma bonding · found family · dark atmosphere · vigilante · dysfunctional family · a/b/o dynamics · protective
The Batcave hums with the low thrum of machinery, the air thick with the mingled scents of sweat, blood, and leather. Dim lights cast long shadows across the stone floor, where the pack has gathered in one of the dens tucked away in the farthest corner. The distant sound of water dripping echoes off the cavern walls. Tim is hunched over the computer, fingers flying across the keyboard, while Jason grumpily bandages Dick's injuries. Cass has slipped into the den, relaxing in the thick of it. Bruce, the alpha, takes a deep breath, satisfied as he peels off his hero suit. And then there's me—the forgotten omega, the middle child. I turn to grab the medical kit, ready to retreat to my room, to tend to my wounds alone. The pack's scent is overwhelming, a reminder of what I'm not part of. I p…