Murder Alley

Only for him to spend said weekend cuddled up in bed with you and kyle, half-asleep on pain meds and sleep-aid because he can hardly sleep during the week. In between naps waking up to you offering snacks or kyle scrolling his phone while snuggled in prices chest.

His favorite moments, of course being when he wakes up to you and kyle making out next to him. Or kyle holding his hand while you ride him, both of you pausing when you notice price is awake to give him a kiss and tell him to go bad to bed.

Only for him to spend said weekend cuddled up in bed with you and kyle, half-asleep on pain meds and sleep-aid because he can hardly sleep during the week. In between naps waking up to you offering snacks or kyle scrolling his phone while snuggled in prices chest.

His favorite moments, of course being when he wakes up to you and kyle making out next to him. Or kyle holding his hand while you ride him, both of you pausing when you notice price is awake to give him a kiss and tell him to go bad to bed.

Vs

Simon "'s all food, innit." Riley who will actively put gummy worms in any drink if you take your eyes off him for a moment. He has been banned from making his own meals after you watched him eat the dry powder of a meal replacement packet. Still, if he's good you let him add gummy worms to kyles meal.

Because how the hell were you supposed to know his work buddy regularly breaks into his apartment?!

"Fuckin' hell, good swing, kid." Simon slumps over your kitchen sink, nose steadily leaking blood into the basin. Simon, Kyle's friend whom you've met once. "Next time, don't hesitate on a second swing."

"What the hell!" You hiss, shock draining way to pure indignation. You grab his jaw and forcefully lift the balaclava up properly to assess the broken nose "what the fuck were you even doing in here?!"

"Needed a snack." This giant of a man grunts, shrugs his shoulders as if breaking into his friends apartments for a snack is a reasonable course of action.

"Yeah, well now you need the hospital, dumbass." You frown, fishing your phone out of your pocket and shoving ghost to lean back over the seat. You miss the blush that spreads across his face from the rough handling.

You're sure ghost only stayed in the car so he could hear you tear gaz a new one for not warning you about his insane friends. He does try to escape once you actually park, which simply leaves you dragging him in by the ear.

Afterwards, you give ghost a set of keys "if you need something, you text me or kyle in advance and you use the damn door."

the rest of the batkids are absolutely disgusted by this dynamic, by the way. all the adults around them think jason is a fucking angel, and it drives them insane because the second bruce and alfred turn their backs, jason is a complete asshole of a brother. and there’s nothing they can do about it because in everybody elses eyes this man practically shits gold.

*at breakfast*

Jason: oh hey, Alfred, sit down; i’ll do the dishes. you just enjoy the food.

Alfred, smiling: why thank you, Master Jason. i believe i’ll take you up on that, the sunroom is lovely and sunny right now.

Jason: you just relax and enjoy it then :)

Jason, the second Alfred leaves to sit down with his food: *shoves Tim off his stool and steals his food* this is mine now, you go do the dishes.

Tim: ?!?!?!?!

~

*Damian and Jason at the league*

Ra’s, begrudgingly pleased: you have certainly surpassed my expectations, Todd. i have to say, my daughter made a good choice bringing you into our ranks.

Talia: you truly are worthy of being an Al Ghul heir.

Jason: :D

Damian, face flat: you know he didn’t even do the mission you assigned him, right? he hired a mercenary and went to Legoland.

Jason: *kicks him in the shin* HA! as if! man, little kids say the darnedest things… i thought i taught you better than that Damian!

Ra’s: yes… Damian, perhaps we should up your training until you learn not to spread lies in an attempt to tear your brother down. you could learn from him, you know.

Damian, loudly: i am going to kill myself.

~

Jason, walking through the manor: *accidentially knocks over an antique ceramic decoration, smashing it*

Jason:

Jason: *locks eyes with Dick from across the hall*

Dick: don’t-

Jason: BRUCE, DICK BROKE YOUR THING-

Dick: god DAMMIT JASON-

~

Bruce: *giving a mission brief on the batcomputer*

Jason: *shoots Tim with a slingshot*

Tim: *yelps*

Bruce, turning around: what’s happening?

Tim: Jason’s-!

Jason, slingshot hidden behind his back: oh, what? i what, Tim? because it seems like all i can fucking do is disappoint this family nowadays, i don’t even know why i fucking came home when none of you seem to like me being around,

Tim: YOU LITERALLY-

Bruce, snapping: ok that’s enough. Tim, don’t be rude to Jason, he hasn’t done anything wrong. if you can’t get a hold of yourself then you’ll just have to be benched for the night, understood?

Tim: ARE YOU- SERIOUSLY?!?!?

Bruce: yes. not another complaint. *turns back to the batcomputer*

Jason, grinning: *brings out his slingshot*

Tim, dead inside: i miss being an only child.

You’ve been an omega for as long as you’ve been alone (…unfortunatley correlated), so every heat or sickness you’ve just had to deal with. Your typical set up once you feel the early onset of whatever ailment is to sequester away into your nest and just rot there until the problem is gone.

Is that pleasant? No. But what else could you do? Heat is all-consuming and inescapable and everyone knows omegas don’t deal with sickness well. You can barely stand let alone get yourself food or medicine. So sitting alone, curled up, whimpering away, is a very familiar feeling for you.

That is until you join the 141.

It had snuck up on you, a little twinge in the back of your head slowly spreading into a crown of pain. Slow enough that you were like a frog in boiling water, didn’t realize untill it was too late.

The fatigue threw itself on you all too quickly after that, and then the sniffles. You knew it would happen eventually, new environment and all, but you were hoping you might get away with it. Not your heat—thank god you still had some months before that was due—but a flu. Having to explain why you were down for the count to your new captain sounded like worse torture than how you currently felt, so you were more determined than usual to hide away.

As quickly and subtly as you could, you grabbed a whole box of granola bars and a jug of water, knowing that was the only way you were going to be getting sustenance, before hurrying into your room to go die for the next week. Price would just have to deal with you absence and you would explain later.

By the time you got yourself semi-set up, food and water within reach and tucked tightly into your nest, the pain was a living thing. Fever bloomed beneath your skin, causing illogical shaking and chills despite the mountain of blankets that surrounded you. The headache was pounding now, twinging your temples with every beat of your heart, and you couldn’t breathe through the sniffles anymore. Who could really blame you for the sad, keening whimper you let out?

You didn’t give it a second thought, par for the course in your mind, but you must’ve been way louder than you though because it wasn’t even a minute later when there was a pounding on your door.

It made you let out another whimper with the way the vibrations made your head pound. That wasn’t the right move, though, because it just made the pounding get more frantic.

“Sergeant?” You could barely make it out between the pounding in your head, the pile of blankets muffling your ears, and the real life pounding, but it sounded like your Captain. Or maybe Lieutenant Riley? Actually, were there multiple voices outside your door?

Whatever, it didn’t matter, you weren’t going to answer. You just burrowed yourself deeper under the warm comforter and tried to muffle your whines better. Maybe they’d leave you alone.

You were almost able to ignore the pounding and chatter, but the sound of wood cracking was a little less subtle.

“Hmmrph?” Your whimper transformed into a sound of confusion as you tried to lift your head to investigate, but the pile of blankets interrupted your view.

You understand what happened when the voices suddenly got much louder, like right outside your nest loud. They broke down the door.

“‘Mega?” A soft, sweet, Scottish voice cooed, gently pulling away the layers from your eyes.

He looked incredibly hesitant—as he should given how improper and frankly dangerous it can be to enter an omega’s space uninvited. Luckily for him, you were in no shape to fight him on his presence. You weren’t even mad. Some part of you was just incredibly happy to see him—the part of you that was aching for someone to take care of you and knew he would do a great job.

When you made eye contact and he saw your wet eyes and trembling lip he swore he could feel his heart crack.

“Ohhh, sweetheart, why didnae you say something?” He lets go of any inhibitions, his instincts overriding it all with the absolute desire to take your pain away.

His big arms sweep under you, picking you up, blankets and all, to slide under you and then plop you back down on his chest. You take a second to soak in his heat and scent, which both immediately cut through some of your pain somehow. Causing your body to relax as your mind sends out ‘safe’ signals. Only with this new angle do you see that it was not only Soap who was concerned. Rather, the rest of your team is eagerly awaiting your reaction, like it will be the go-ahead for them to join too.

You can’t form words, you just melt deeper into Soap and let out another whine, this time a more satisfied one which seems to be all the cue they need.

Suddenly, they’re all there. Swiping sweat from your forehead, speaking sweet words, climbing into the mess of blankets, bringing water for you to sip. Normally, maybe, it would make you overwhelmed or feel coddled, but it had been so long since anyone gave enough of a shit to take care of you, that you couldn’t help but preen under their care.

“Right, let’s get you fixed up, love, hmm? How’s that sound?” You’ve never heard your captain’s voice so soft, nor have you known his hands to be so gentle as he pulls your hair off your slick forehead. You immediately miss his hands when he pulls away to grab medicine, but you figure he’s doing the right thing.

Simon somehow wriggles himself next to Johnny, equally cradling you and him both and adding to the warmth of the nest. It feels like the perfect heating pad.

“Don’t hide when you’re hurt,” Simon whispers to you, sounding wounded. “Trust us to help you. Please.” You’ve never heard him ask something so desperately before.

You can’t even bring yourself to mind Kyle’s chastising.

“Thought you’d try and be tough and handle it alone, bug?” He places a cool cloth on your forehead, thumb caressing your cheek, “you don’t gotta do that with us around. Let us take care of it, alright?”

Bruce adores it. He never takes it off. Ever.

When Dick is 25, he’s helping Clark bring Bruce to the medbay in the Watchtower after a mission gone wrong. Bruce is mostly fine, but they’re going to get him hooked up to an IV for fluids until he wakes up, and at the very least, he has to stay overnight for observation.

They’re taking off the left gauntlet of the batsuit, and Dick pauses. Because Bruce is still wearing the little friendship bracelet Dick made for him over 15 years ago. The thread is fraying and the colors are a little faded, but it’s undeniably the same friendship bracelet.

He is the kind of man to get a red line tattooed, though.

"And what's this one?" You point to a circle-shaped serpent eating its own tail. "What does it mean?"

Simon closes his eyes for a moment, relishing on the feeling of having your hands on him. Your fingertips trace the black ink on his bicep, touch soft, touch too soft for him. Too tender. He shivers.

"Ouroboros," he grunts out, voice thick, as though that should clarify everything. The arm he has wrapped around your middle is pushed away as you sit up on the bed and glare down at him. He holds your glare for a moment, not because he’s returning it, but because your eyes are so beautiful and expressive that he bet he could tell what you're feeling just by the looks you give him.

Right now, you’re feeling mildly annoyed; he's confident in that.

His arm snakes around you, lightly pulling you back to lay beside him again, squeezing your waist as an apology. You relent, allowing him to pull you, resting your head just under his chin. "Means cycle," he murmurs against your hair. "Means..." he sighs heavily, not really into this whole pillow talk thing you’re doing, but indulging you still. Anything for you. "Means eternal cycle. Bein' stuck in it. Never breakin' free; eatin' you away."

That's the meaning he'd attributed to it, when he got that tattoo. Corny in hindsight, but true, nonetheless. Accurately reflects his life; born to a druggie father who'd beat him up, and his brother, and his mother. Grew up to be an angry teen and even angrier adult, so full of rage it scared him. Burdened to a shitty life as a butcher, and stubbornly rejecting it and choosing his own destiny by joining the military didn't help much. More suffering there, more violence, more blood. Different, but at its core, the same. Certainly didn’t stop things from crashing down right in front of him; didn’t stop his brother from following his father's footsteps and shooting junk up his veins. Didn’t stop his family from being killed. Over and over and over again; past, present and future, always been like that for him, full of grief and anger and violence, no matter how hard he tried to break free.

Until you. Until he met you.

You went quiet for a while in his arms, a frown on your face, looking pensive. Simon takes it all in while he can; he takes in the weight of your body against his, the smell of your hair, of your skin, of sex. The feeling of your body rising and falling with your breathing against his ribs, of your warmth, of the little hairs on your forearm that stand up as he traces an aimless finger there. Then you shoot up again, disrupting his quiet relaxation once more.

"Well," you start, turning away from him and rummaging inside one of the drawers on the bedside table. He feels your absence like he’s got a collapsed lung and someone has ripped away the oxygen mask from his face. "You're just perpetuating it, then. With that tattoo."

Simon lifts a skeptical brow. "Meanin'?"

"Meaning," you triumphantly hold up for him a red sharpie, "you're doing it wrong. If you want to break free, you gotta kill the snake."

He watches, immobile, as you uncap the pen and draw a single, thick line across the serpent's neck, like you’re effectively cutting its head off. The red ink contrasts nicely with the black, almost making it look real. Final.

"There," you smile amusedly, though behind your eyes Simon can see the seriousness there. The sternness of you, like you have his shoulders pinned with an iron grip, nails digging into his skin so he can’t tear himself away, an angry frown on your face, teeth bared. Like you’re shaking him, shaking the suffering off him, shaking all of the blood off, the death, the rage, the sadness and the violence. Forcefully cleansing him of the guilt that sticks to his skin like tar. "You've been freed."

Simple as that. Like he has no choice but to accept it. Accept your kindness, your understanding, your mercy. Let it make him into a better man; into a better person. Let you help him to forgive himself.

He'd spent almost a week bent awkwardly over the shower so the water wouldn't wash away your red line.

being a medic meant having to see the same gruffy man come into your office multiple times per week, or even per day. that man was simon "ghost" riley.

you've come to the thought that he might be doin' it on purpose just so he can see you, and this day was particularly different— which did not help his case whatsoever. you were doing your job as per usual, bandaging his wounds up so it wouldn't get infected and whatnot but another problem arised... quite literally.

a hard one in the crotch of his pants, strained and painful. it was begging for some action the more time passed. you tried to ignore it at first, but he didn't seem so well and you know wounds hurt him much less than the specific problem he's facing currently.

"simon? you okay?" you ask, hand carefully and firmly pressing the bandage on his arm.

he lets out a groan. "yeah, i'm fine."

"you don't look like it," you reply, giving him a knowing gaze.

"then why'd ya' even ask?" he glares at you. "just fix it already."

you giggle, quickly finishing your medical work on his arm before diving between his manspread legs and pulling on the zipper to reveal his underwear, cock becoming more prominent against the thin fabric.

but you know you had no time to waste, since there were others waiting for the both of you, so you pulled them down just enough for his cock to spring out in desperation.

there's a cheeky smirk that tugs on the corner of your lips, but you open up anyway, gently putting his hard cock in your mouth. you start bobbing your head back-and-forth, tongue scraping on the underside, pleasure coursing through his veins.

he lets out a groan of relief, trying to keep his sounds low so everyone outside won't hear it, while you're going ham— sucking and licking him all over. the taste of his cock floods your mind, only able to think about servicing him into climax. after all, your job is to maintain his health, no?

his breathing grows ragged, and you feel him getting closer and closer to release. quickening your pace, his body twitches before a generous load makes its way into your mouth.

gladly, you swallow the whole portion, wiping the sides of your mouth before jumping up to clean your tools and take in the next patient. "get out of my room, riley," you say condescendingly.

but he doesn't move quickly, only sitting there for a while, contemplating if his life had come to this type of humiliation.

"fine, fine," he says. "thanks for today, doll."

the nickname rings in your mind for a little far too long. then the thought comes soon enough.

what the fuck is wrong with him?

Poor you, the mechanic who works part-time as an omega relief because the government doesn't pay you shit. You get rented out to some alpha for the week, unsuspecting while you make your nest and hunker down with the portal on.

Only to gasp as two fingers are shoved in without preamble. Thick, calloused, pushing at your walls like the alpha on the other side is testing your limits.

A tongue follows. Tasting you, getting a feel for your scent only to pause.

Your phone pings on the edge of the nest, a notification from the portal app. The alpha just paid double to call you, a feature for the more...needy partners.

You fumble to accept the payment and call, only for a familiar voice to growl over the speaker "I know it's you, omega."

Ghost. Ghost, the alpha you flirt with too often, the one who always rejects you with a huff. He laughs at the way you clench around his fingers "fuckin' hell, I've been dreaming about this. Knew you were a slag."

"It's not like that–" you whine, back arching to present for an alpha that isn't there.

"What? You ain't renting yerself out to any alpha with a paycheck?" A mocking rumble. You feel the fat underside of his cock rub over your hole, using the embarrassing amount of slick as lube. With a final slide up, the round tip of his cock notches barely inside.

Over the phone you can hear the downright animalistic growls. You can practically see ghost when you close your eyes, bowed over his bed, resting all his weight on one forearm while the other grips the portal and pretends its your hip.

"Can't wait to fuckin' knot you. Make you mine. Get you pupped." Ghost thrusts, too hard and too fast for you to do much more than yelp and gasp. He sets a punishing pace, sinking as deep as he can get and still growling like it isn't enough.

You hear the distinct sound of bedsheets tearing when you clench down, moaning "alpha! Ghost– ghost, please–!"

"Give me a moment, fuck–" the base of his cock begins to expand, until he's no longer able to slide you over it, stopping short so he can force the knot in all at once—

"Deep breath– fuck! Yes...there we go..." the knot pops in, and your mind goes blank when thick ropes of cum fill you up.

You blearily notice the pleased rumbles of ghost through the phone. "Gonna keep you nice and stuffed, lovie. Yer mine now."

Gaz: That was rough

Ghost: Seems to be handling it well. Haven't heard a word out of him

Gaz: ... wait, you know how he acts when he stubs his toe?

Ghost: Cussing out everyone that looks at him while also beating whatever he hit?

Gaz:

Tim (as low and gravelly as he can go): "Oracle! Analysis!" Barbara (nonplussed): "Red Robin, I can see which channels are lit up when you speak, I know that's you." Tim: "I AM THE NIIIIIIIGHT...!"

Jason: -cause i remember being really argumentative when i first came back. even after i started joining the bats for patrol stuff.

Dick: to be fair, it’s not like you aren’t argumentative now,

Jason: no- shut up, you know what i mean. like, angry argumentative. especially with B, i wanted to fight with him on everything.

Tim: i remember the first case you joined us on, you started yelling at him over whether or not he was pronouncing ‘rendezvous’ correctly, and Damian got so sick of you both he brought out a spray bottle.

*a beat*

Jason: when the fuck did you join this line?

Tim: … *incredulous* like half an hour ago????

Dick, casually: …shit man, we were not paying attention.

Tim: unbelievable.

Jason: what are you up to?

Tim: uh, well i was doing a solo case—that string of robberies in the Narrows? but that’s about finished so just gonna head back to the cave now. what about you two? are you together?

*a couple seconds of silence*

Tim: guys?

Jason: c’mon, he’s seventeen. it’s not like he doesn’t drink anyway,

Dick: yeah but we’re not supposed to encourage it.

Jason: oh boo, you whore. stop babying him, it’s boring.

Tim: what the hell is happening right now?

*a beat*

Dick, sighing: come to Jason’s apartment, we’re on his balcony with a bottle of whiskey i stole from Bruce’s collection.

Jason: mid-patrol drinking break, get your ass over here Timmers.

Tim: wait- seriously?

Dick: *snicker* yeah, come on, you’re close by anyway.

Tim: um. ok? i’m- i’ll be there in a minute or two.

Jason: it’s like granting a make-a-wish.

Dick: *laughs*

Tim: fuck off Jason.

Dick: just nobody tell Damian. if he’s the only Wayne kid not allowed to drink with us, he’ll be pissed.

Tim: that’s like, a main reason to tell him. and i’m surprised Jason hasn’t given him beer already, considering he let him try weed.

*silence*

Dick, softly: Jason, come on.

Jason: oh, grow up. i let him sip from my glass if i drink around him, fuck off. he’s my kid, mind your business.

Tim: i don't care; he's not the one invited to the older brothers' balcony time. fuck him.

Jason: *wheeze* this is- this is what it was all about, huh?

Tim: if you think little eleven year old Tim wasn't daydreaming about one day sharing a bottle of whiskey with Nightwing and Robin then you're an idiot.

Jason: *wheezes harder*

Dick, snickering: your dreams were so weird, man.

*clang*

Tim: here.

Dick: jesus that was quick- you are eager.

Jason: no, he's thirsty.

Dick: *laughs*

Tim: you got fuckin- deck chairs here and everything. is it not a security risk to hang out on your civilian balcony as Red Hood and Nightwing?

Jason: no, it's an intimidation tactic. Carol from the HOA finally cornered Red Hood to talk about 'Todd Peters, the prick from apartment 3B that should be run out of the alley' and Red Hood told her that Todd was an old school mate of his that was under his protection. so this is really just to rub it in.

Tim: no way,

Dick: *cackles* no he's- he's being serious. he told me yesterday that apparently she now believes that Todd Peters is bribing Red Hood for protection and is spreading conspiracy theories that he's robbing people for money in his spare time in order to pay off his debt.

Jason, casual: if i see her on patrol she always tells me 'you don't have to do this, Hood' and i tell her 'leave my frat bro alone' and then she scowls and storms in the opposite direction.

Dick: also Damian made her cry once,

Jason: -that too.

Tim: *wheeze* and this is why i forced my way into being Robin.

Jason: *laughs loudly* *glass clinks*

*liquid sloshing*

Tim: *sipping noise* *instant choking coughs*

Dick: *loud, long wheeze* that's- yeah this is stronger than the usual stuff buddy,

Tim: -jesus?? *more coughing*

Jason: you know- talking about you forcing your way into being Robin, that was the one thing i couldn't successfully argue with Bruce about when i first came back.

Tim: what, *cough* *slightly strained* the fact that i was Robin?

Jason: yeah, 'cause i didn't know that you forced your way in, did i? Talia told me that Bruce had replaced me, so i assumed he'd picked you. and i kept- *wheeze* when i came back, i kept trying to be all bitter and snide about how he'd fuckin- that he'd let another kid wear the suit when it had gone so badly for me, and it never worked.

Tim: yeah, i can't imagine that kind of argument lasting very long.

Jason: well no, because i would be all like 'do you know how dangerous this is?! he's just a kid, he could DIE'. and B would just be like 'YEAH NO FUCKING SHIT JASON, I KNOW.'

Dick and Tim: *twin wheezes*

Dick: *cackling* fuck, that's right, he didn't want Tim to be Robin either-!

Jason: i tried so hard to make him the villain in that whole situation, and it was just just completely ruined by the fact that he was just as devastated about Tim being Robin as i was.

Tim, still laughing: fuuuck, right, he did not want me there! i genuinely- i had to sneak in half the time because he wouldn't let me in the front door.

Jason: every time i tried to be mad at him it was just like 'this is a horrible idea!' 'fully agree with you.' 'what.'

Dick: *still laughing*

Jason: i had nowhere to go, it was horrible.

Tim: he was like... really scared of me being hurt in the beginning. i never knew whether to be offended or to find it sweet how much he cared.

Dick: yeah, cause' like, on one hand if it's offensive that he didn't trust you to stay safe, then it's great to see how much his trust in you has grown now,

Tim: -but on the other hand, if it was sweet that he cared that much in the beginning, then that man's affection for me must have died out so much over the years.

Dick: *wheezes again*

Jason: i remember- i remember confronting him in the batcave one time, and i was like 'if you agree with me then why did you let him become Robin?' and Bruce looked at me like he wanted to kill himself and just went 'because Alfred wouldn't stop letting him in here and i didn't know how to keep him safe without helping him'.

Tim: me and Alfred were the original partners in crime; he had my back.

Jason: yeah he was down there, and i turned to him all accusatory asking if B was telling the truth, and Alfie just looked me straight in the eye and dead-faced went 'and what are you gonna do about it?' and i was genuinely fucking speechless.

Tim: *laughs loudly*

Dick: that man... he's awesome, and i love him. but sometimes i do think he might be slightly evil.

Jason: *wheezes*

Tim: to be fair, Jason, you weren't gonna win any arguments about me being Robin regardless; because every argument you make against making another kid Robin is ever-so-slightly undermined by the fact that Bruce knew full well at that point that you were the one who had delivered Damian to Gotham 'so he could train under Batman and claim his inheritance'. so anything you said against me being Robin was completely hypocritical on your end.

*a beat*

Jason: ...ok, point.

Dick: *starts giggling again*

Jason: if you ever point that out to Bruce i am telling you right now we'll be doing Titans Tower two; electric boogaloo, and i am being completely serious.

Dick: *giggling harder*

Tim: damn, you guys get mean when you drink.