#alpha bruce wayne

Warning: financial abuse, Stalking, Kidnapping, Omegaverse, Yandere themes, Possessiveness, obsessiveness

Authors note: I haven't uploaded in a bit Cause I'm on holiday from uni but now that the next term is starting, I'll procrastinate studying and start writing :D

Part 2

The first time Bruce Wayne smelled you, the entire gala blurred into background noise.

Champagne, politicians, models—none of it mattered.

Omega.

His omega.

The realization struck the alpha part of him like lightning, ancient and absolute. For a man who controlled everything, who was control, the sudden primal certainty felt almost offensive. He did not lose composure. He did not react without calculation.

And then you walked right past him.

No curtsy. No nervous glance. No subtle attempt to linger in his orbit like everyone else in Gotham. You didn’t even look at him, and that was what followed him long after the gala lights dimmed.

By the time the last guest had gone home, he knew your name.

He knew where you worked, where you lived, the route you took each morning, your favorite café, your friends, your medical history, your heat cycle schedule.

Not because he didn’t trust you.

Because he didn’t trust the world with something that belonged to him.

The Batcave screens glowed with your face while Alfred stood behind him in weighted silence. Even the hum of the computers seemed quieter than usual.

“Sir,” Alfred said carefully, “you’ve monitored heads of state with less intensity.”

Bruce didn’t look away from the screen.

“They aren’t my mate.”

A week later, Wayne Enterprises sponsored the community center where you worked, and he met you properly under fluorescent lights instead of chandeliers.

You were polite. Professional. Distant.

The bond flared the moment he stepped close. Your pulse jumped. Your breath caught. He smelled it—the recognition, the instinct.

Instead of leaning into it, you straightened like someone bracing against a wall.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t use that tone with me,” you said when his voice softened into something too intimate for strangers.

“Which tone?” Bruce asked, though he knew.

“The one that assumes I’m already yours.”

Something cold slid under his ribs. You weren’t supposed to resist. The bond was supposed to pull you to him. That was how it worked.

“You are,” he said quietly.

Your eyes hardened. “I’m not a company acquisition, Mr. Wayne.”

After that conversation, Gotham began to shift in ways that were difficult to call coincidence.

Streetlights near your apartment never flickered again. Crime in your neighborhood dropped sharply. Your rent was quietly lowered. A mugger who grabbed your wrist one night didn’t make it halfway down the block before Batman himself intercepted him.

It didn’t take you long to notice the pattern.

“You’re watching me,” you accused the next time Bruce appeared at the center, blocking your office door with tailored precision.

“I’m protecting you.”

“I didn’t ask for protection.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

Your scent sharpened—anger layered over the involuntary reaction of an omega standing too close to a powerful alpha. Bruce’s control thinned at the edges.

“You walk home alone. Your building’s security is inadequate. Your heat is in nine days and you don’t have a bonded alpha. Do you have any idea how many predators live in this city?”

Your eyes widened. “You tracked my—”

“You’re my mate,” he said, voice dark and unyielding. “Of course I did.”

“That’s not romantic,” you snapped. “That’s fucking creepy, you weirdo.”

He had been called worse. The word should have meant nothing.

From you, it landed like rejection.

Bruce went very still. The air in the office grew heavy, charged like Gotham before a storm.

“You think this is a game,” he said at last, voice too calm. “You think you’re looking at a man who doesn’t understand boundaries.”

“I think I’m looking at a man who broke into my medical records and timed my heat like it’s a board meeting.”

Your pulse was racing. He could hear it. Smell the fear threading through your anger.

It didn’t push him back. It drew him closer.

“You live in a city where people disappear every night,” he said. “Where monsters wear human faces. Where omegas are trafficked, hunted, sold. And you’re angry because the one person who can make sure that never happens to you is paying attention?”

“I’m angry because you don’t see me as a person,” you shot back. “You see me as something you own.”

Something shifted in his expression then.

Not softness.

Understanding.

“Of course I see you as a person,” Bruce said quietly. “You’re the only person I see.”

After that, the coincidences stopped pretending to be subtle.

The café you liked switched suppliers with Wayne funding. Your landlord was replaced by a Wayne subsidiary. Your best friend received a sudden, life-changing job offer in another city.

Two weeks later, fury carried you up the steps of Wayne Manor unannounced.

Alfred opened the door as though he had been expecting you all along. “Mr. Wayne is in the study.”

Bruce stood by the window when you stormed in, Gotham stretched beneath him like something he personally sustained.

“You moved my friend.”

“She was offered an opportunity.”

“You bought my building.”

“It was structurally unsound.”

“You're meddling with my life.”

He turned slowly, and your breath caught despite yourself.

He looked relieved.

“You’re safer now,” he said.

“I don’t want to be safe if this is the price!”

“You don’t know what the price is,” Bruce replied, stepping closer. “You don’t see what I see. The threats. The probability charts. The names of people who’ve already noticed you because of me.”

Your anger faltered. “What?”

“I tried to let you stay separate from my world,” he continued, something raw threading beneath the control. “I tried to give you distance. But you’re already on the radar. Anyone who watches me long enough will find you.”

Your stomach dropped.

“I am the most dangerous man in this city to be connected to,” he said softly. “Which means you are the most valuable target.”

The room felt smaller.

“So this is protection?” you whispered. “You isolate me? You take away every choice I have?”

He reached for you slowly this time, giving you space to retreat.

You didn’t.

His gloved hand closed around your wrist, not tight, but unbreakable.

“I am removing variables,” he said. “You still have choices.”

“Like what?”

His thumb brushed your pulse point where the bond throbbed.

“You can keep fighting me,” Bruce said, eyes dark and unshakably sincere. “Keep calling me names. Keep pretending you don’t feel this.”

Your breath hitched.

“Or you can come upstairs. There’s a room that’s been yours for weeks. Clothes in your size. Your books. Your tea. The view you stop to look at every morning on your way to work.”

Your heart stuttered.

“You’ve been in my apartment.”

“Of course I have.”

The certainty in his voice sent a chill down your spine.

“You’re insane.”

“No,” Bruce said gently. “I’m prepared.”

He lifted your hand and pressed it flat against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, unshakable.

“Everything in my life is built on contingency plans,” he murmured. “Every outcome accounted for. Every threat neutralized.”

Your fingers trembled.

“What happens if I still say no?”

For the first time, Bruce smiled without charm. It wasn’t the public playboy grin. It was private. Possessive.

“Then you’ll stay in your apartment,” he said. “With the upgraded security. The surveillance. The patrol routes I’ve already altered. The people watching you from every rooftop. The systems in your phone. The trackers in your bag.”

Your blood went cold.

“I told you,” he continued, stepping closer until retreat was impossible, “you’re the only person I see.”

His hand rose to cup your neck, thumb resting over your scent gland.

“You think this is about control,” he said. “It isn’t.”

“Then what is it?”

His forehead lowered until it nearly touched yours.

“Permanence.”

The word settled around you like a locked door.

“You can hate me. You can call me creepy. You can refuse to stand beside me in public.”

His grip tightened just enough to be felt.

“But you are not living a single day in this city without me knowing where you are, if you’re breathing, if you’re safe.”

Your scent spiked—fear, bond, something dangerously close to surrender.

“And one day,” he said with absolute certainty, “you’re going to realize that there is nowhere in this world where I am not already waiting for you.”

When he finally let go, it didn’t feel like freedom.

Because as you stepped back, the truth settled heavy in your chest.

Your life hadn’t been taken from you.

It had been absorbed into his.

And there was no shadow in Gotham, no street corner, no locked door

where you could exist without Bruce already being there first.

We’ll give you everything.

Alpha Bruce Wayne & Clark Kent x omega male reader

Authors note: This was an anonymous ask!

Please enjoy and tell me what you think!!

•*¨*•.¸¸☆*•*¨*•.¸¸☆*•*¨*•.¸¸☆*•*¨*•.¸¸☆*•*¨*•.¸¸☆*

The bartender slid the drink across the counter without looking up—his attention glued to the hockey game flickering on the grainy TV above the shelves of cheap whiskey. A glass of something amber, mostly ice. The guy who'd ordered it hadn't said a word, just tapped the bar twice with scarred knuckles. Now he sat at the corner stool, shoulders hunched like he was carrying something too heavy to name.

"Rough night?" the bartender finally muttered, mostly out of obligation.

The stranger lifted his head just enough for the dim neon to catch the edge of his jaw—sharp, shadowed. His scent hit the air before he did: alpha, but restrained, coiled tight. Like a breath held too long. "You could say that," he said, voice gravel-low. His fingers tightened around the glass.

Across the room, the door swung open. A draft of cold air, then something warmer—another alpha, broader, sunlight-and-steel scent cutting through the stale beer. The first man didn't turn, but his shoulders tensed. "Took you long enough," he muttered. The newcomer slid onto the stool beside him, elbow brushing his sleeve. "Had a situation," Clark said, like that explained everything. Bruce's mouth twitched. Neither of them mentioned the third scent clinging to their clothes—sweet, fevered, theirs.

The bartender wisely retreated. Clark's thumb traced the rim of Bruce's untouched drink. "He's burning up," he said quietly. Bruce exhaled through his nose, the image flashing behind his eyelids: y/n spread across their sheets, sweat-damp and trembling, begging without words. His glass cracked under his grip. "I know."

Clark's hand covered his, steadying. "We shouldn't leave him waiting." The subtext vibrated between them—how long they'd waited too, restraining themselves, letting y/n adjust to the bond. Bruce stood abruptly, bills slapped on the counter. The hockey game buzzed static as Clark followed him out, their strides syncing in the alley's shadows.

Three blocks away, the penthouse windows glowed gold. Inside, the air hummed with need. Bruce inhaled sharply at the threshold; Clark's fingers dug into his waist. "Last chance to go slow," Clark murmured, but Bruce was already moving forward, drawn like a tide to the muffled whimper echoing down the hall.

They found him tangled in silk sheets, pupils blown wide. Y/n's scent—honey and salt—flooded the room as he arched off the mattress, fingers clawing at his own thighs. His gaze locked onto them, desperate. "Finally," he gasped, throat raw. Clark made a wounded noise, stripping off his jacket in one fluid motion while Bruce knelt on the bed, caging y/n's trembling body beneath him.

Bruce's lips brushed the omega's pulse point, tasting desperation. "Tell us what you need." The demand was rough, barely controlled. Y/n sobbed, hips jerking up. "Everything," he choked out—and Clark was there, pressing a broad palm against his bare stomach, grounding him. "We've got you," Clark promised, voice thick with want. "We'll give you everything."

Bruce's teeth grazed y/n's throat as Clark's hands mapped the omega's heated skin—slow, reverent, claiming. The bed creaked under shifting weight. Somewhere, a zipper hissed open. Y/n keened, thighs falling open wider. "Please," he begged, voice breaking on the syllable, and the alphas answered in unison: a growl, a kiss, the first searing press of skin against skin.

Clark's mouth found the flush blooming across y/n's chest, tongue tracing the arch of a collarbone. Bruce pinned one of y/n's wrists with effortless strength, murmuring filth against his ear—how he'd looked earlier, writhing alone; how much tighter he'd feel when they were inside him. Y/n shuddered violently, slick soaking the sheets beneath him. The scent of it punched through the room, heady and thick, and Bruce's restraint snapped.

Their coordination was seamless—Clark lifting y/n's hips while Bruce pressed in from behind, both of them groaning at the molten heat that welcomed them. Y/n's back arched like a bowstring, a broken cry tearing from his throat as they filled him completely. "God, you take us so well," Clark gritted out, fingers bruising on y/n's waist as Bruce began to move, each thrust perfectly synchronized with Clark's.

The omega sobbed, overwhelmed—every nerve alight, every inch of skin worshipped, their scents twining together in the sweat-slick air. Bruce's hand tangled in y/n's hair, tilting his head back for Clark's claiming kiss. Their rhythm built relentlessly, each snap of hips dragging ragged moans from y/n's lips. He could feel the coiling tension in both alphas, their control fraying—and that alone nearly undid him. "Don't stop," y/n gasped, nails scoring down Clark's biceps. "Don't ever stop."

Clark shuddered, pressing his forehead to y/n's as Bruce's pace turned punishing, the wet slap of skin echoing off the penthouse walls. The omega's vision whited out when Clark's thumb grazed his swollen tip—once, twice—before Bruce's teeth sank into his mating gland. The dual stimulation shattered him. Y/n screamed, back bowing off the bed as pleasure detonated through every vein, slick gushing between his thighs.

Bruce groaned, hips stuttering as y/n's pulsing walls milked him mercilessly. Clark followed, burying himself to the hilt with a roar. The omega whimpered, overstimulated but greedy—clenching around their still-hard lengths as they spilled inside him in hot, rhythmic spurts. The scent of their combined release filled the room, primal and intoxicating.

Bruce collapsed beside them, dragging y/n against his chest while Clark nuzzled the omega's damp throat. "Mine," Bruce rumbled, licking the bite mark he'd left. Clark growled agreement, lips brushing y/n's shoulder. The omega sighed, boneless and sated, their mingled scents wrapping around him like a promise. Outside, the city pulsed—but here, in their tangled embrace, nothing else existed.

Clark traced idle patterns on y/n's hip, watching moonlight gild the sweat on his skin. "Should've seen yourself," he murmured, thumb skating over a love bite. "Begging so pretty for us." Bruce exhaled sharply, fingers tightening on y/n's thigh—already half-hard again at the memory. Y/n whined, pressing back against Bruce's growing erection, but Clark pinned him gently. "Easy, sweetheart. Let us take care of you."

Bruce's laugh was dark as he rolled y/n onto his stomach, spreading him open with two fingers. "Still dripping with us," he observed, dragging his tongue along the omega's trembling spine. Clark's breath hitched, watching Bruce lap up their combined spend from y/n's swollen rim. The omega sobbed into the sheets, hips jerking helplessly when Bruce's tongue pressed inside—deeper this time, relentless.

Clark's hands framed y/n's face, forcing eye contact as Bruce fucked him open with his tongue. "Want another round?" Clark asked, though they already knew the answer—y/n's nodding frantically, his broken "yes" swallowed by Clark's kiss. Bruce's chuckle vibrated against y/n's skin as he pulled back, slick glistening on his chin. "Then beg for it," he ordered, pressing two fingers into that molten heat—slow, torturous. Y/n shattered again before they even started.

The room smelled like sex and salt when Clark finally flipped him onto his back, hitching y/n's thighs over his shoulders. Bruce loomed behind, guiding his cock back into y/n's overstimulated body with a groan. "Feel that?" Bruce growled, thrusting deep—the stretch bordering on painful as Clark lined up against his front. Y/n could only gasp, tears streaking his cheeks when they moved in tandem, filling him impossibly full.

Somewhere between Clark's teeth on his neck and Bruce's hand around his cock, y/n forgot his own name. The world narrowed to bruising grips and burning pleasure, to whispered praise and filthy promises. When Clark came with a shout, spilling inside him for the second time, Bruce followed—his knot swelling just enough to lock them together as y/n convulsed between them, his scream muffled against Clark's collarbone.

Later—much later—they'd find the sheets ripped, the headboard cracked against the wall. Now, Bruce just carded fingers through y/n's sweat-damp hair as Clark pressed kisses to his knuckles, their scents finally settled. The omega barely stirred when Clark murmured "love you" against his pulse—just sighed, curling tighter into them, safe in the circle of their arms. The city could wait.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* * ੈ✩‧₊˚* * ੈ✩‧₊˚* * ੈ✩‧₊˚* * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

Authors note: heh just figured out that the banners are the issue…😢

Uh something something a reader in the omegaverse getting kisses peppered all over their face while they’re high off of anaesthesia so they’re just giggling and saying weird shit while coming out of a life saving surgery while the batfam is just like, “I am so happy you’re alive.”

Y’know…

Bruce took your face into his hands. Your eyes are hazy, unfocused, filled with a ‘not quite there’ sort of quality.

There’s a relief— a love—so great that it must spill out because you’re awake and here and not going anywhere- and then he’s pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You almost go cross eyed trying to follow the action.

He lays another on your nose bridge. Then in between your eyebrows and all over your forehead, down your temples, all over your cheeks—you are covered in little pecks that he wishes could sink into your skin and fill you up with enough love that you never pull another stunt like that again.

You’re giggling, fumbling to push Bruce’s face away with a little ‘You’re tickling me’ from the way his stubble brushes against your flesh. He just ignores you, shoving his nose into your neck in an attempt to lather you in his scent like he never did before, his arms sliding around to wrap around you with a gentleness he forces himself to have. (You smell too clean, too much like chemicals— that burning marshmallow scent you usually have wrapped around now dormant in your body’s attempt to conserve energy.

That’s fine. He’ll get you to smell like him even if you don’t smell like you.)

You’re alive. You’re here. In his arms.

(You’re alive.)

Once the anaesthesia fades and you come back to your senses you’ll probably kick and scream at him. You’ll probably try to claw his face off again.

(That’s fine. You’re alive. And you will continue to be. He’ll make sure of it.)

He gives a little kiss to your shoulder with a slight shudder before he lets his canines brush against the vulnerable flesh of your neck.

(And that’s all that matters.)

Like Bruce is trying to scare Superman off and is raging with his pheromones. And Clark is like, "omg, he likes me??? Is he interested in how would our scents match? Omg, he's so sweet and thoughtful! I can't believe it!!"

Batman is puffing out his chest and is trying to appear taller to show dominance? Well, isn't he such a sweetheart trying to look like the best mate candidate! Clark is literally gushing and twirling in the air on the Watchtower because this is so cute to him. He knows Batman is a very smart person, so he probably did research on Kryptonian mating, and Clark is very much warmed by the gesture.

Bruce is only grunting to him but talking to everyone else? Clark didn't know they were that serious that now they just talk through noises and body language! Maybe in their next rut they will mate? Oh, he should prepare himself!

Clark decided that obviously Bruce is begging to be bitched. But he knows an alpha wouldn’t submit naturally, so he of course bitches Batman (as a good friend does!) and keeps him in the fortress for a month until the transformation is complete

Bruce is gagged anytime Clark is around (he’s allowed to eat, nest, and rest when Clark is being a hero), so he can’t tell Clark he wants to stay an alpha. But when Clark fully bitches Bruce, he removes the gag and Bruce is horrified

His body is completely different

He finally looks in a mirror and his pecs became tits. Clark loves milking him and Bruce is too dazed to stop him

Clark cleans up Bruce and flies him back to Gotham (for the sake of this story Damian is a baby)

Bruce goes to pick up his pup Damian and cuddle him for comfort, but he’s expecting Damian to turn away from him. However Damian is too tempted by the smell of Bruce’s fresh milk and latches on. Bruce is stunned because he worried Damian would never warm up to him

Bruce is full of so many emotions because it was a forceful nightmare to be fucked in front of a mirror and dozens of cameras. And left in the fortress with videos of them fucking playing on repeat. When Bruce isn’t eating / resting / whatever, the Superman robots are instructed to tie him down in front of the TV and stuff his ass with a vibrator and add nip clamps. However once his cock starts shrinking and his vagina opens up, Bruce wakes up with a new opening and a vibrator inside. Clark is getting a live feed and having it recorded for years to come

Bruce knows this all because Clark told him. He’s been crying on and off the entire month or so, but naturally any alpha would react this way to being bitched (so Clark thinks it’s just part of the hormone changes)

At the same time… Bruce feels a sense of peace. His youngest can’t get enough of him and his presence has soothed many fights between his alpha sons. He’s not sure if he should say something to Clark, who is ecstatic that they’re bonded for life

Summary: The Bat-fam prepares to meets Jason's newly bonded mate.

Notes: Omegaverse! AU, female! reader, I think the omegaverse is a unique concept but I will not be interacting with the sexual side of it, the reader has unconventional styles and interests because my neurodivergent brain can't handle writing a plain reader insert.

Warnings: Mild batfam angst, this is pure shenanigans and fluff! The reader doesn't really make an appearance here but will in future chapters.

Warm sunlight shone through the windows of the second floor music room (not to be confused with the third floor music room). Outside, the first autumn leaves danced across the grounds of Wayne Manor, swirling and twisting on an eastern breeze. In the distance, a lone police blimp floated over the Gotham skyline. The city, for once, was uncharacteristically quiet. It seemed even Gotham's criminals were enjoying the September afternoon. Inside, Bruce Wayne's wards sat facing the floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the long, winding drive.

"Todd better arrive soon," Damian tutted, glaring out the glass as if the rose bushes below had personally wronged him.

Duke laughed from his position on the couch, "You know he's always late."

"Tell me about it!" Stephanie complained, dramatically sprawled across an old armchair. The female alpha let out a long, theatric sigh, "His poor omega."

Tim chuckled and briefly glanced up from his open laptop, "Eh, she chose to bond with him."

"I am still not convinced," Damian stated from his position at the window. Titus huffed from his place at Damian's feet, seemingly agreeing with his young master.

"What's not to love about our Jason?" Dick asked with his usual charming smile.

"Besides always being late you mean?" Tim smirked over the top of his "coffee > crimefighting" mug.

"And always wearing those fugly jeans," Steph added with a wrinkle of her nose.

Cassandra paused her pecks at the grand piano to face her siblings, "He's... gentle." The sibling all turned to listen to the beta intently. Cass wiggled her jaw to release her next words, "...with omegas." Duke and Tim nodded in agreement. Dick smiled, "He's always been that way. He'll be good to her."

Today, Jason, the second oldest alpha in the Wayne Pack, would introduce his family - his pack - to his newly bonded mate. Several months before, Jason revealed that he was courting an omega who lived in his apartment building. Well, rather, his siblings forced the information out of him.

"You smell... sweeter," Dick observed, sniffing the air near his younger brother's scent gland. Jason hastily reeled back. "Don't smell me, weirdo," he hissed through his teeth.

The vigilantes were all gathered in the Batcave for a monthly briefing. Bruce stood in front of the bat-computer, flipping through several slides and charts. The others stood around him, willing themselves to process all the data Batman rattled off. Luckily, Gotham had been fairly quiet besides an elaborate aquarium themed "evil gameshow" scheme the Riddler strung together the week before. Clearly Nygma was losing his touch.

Dick ignored Jason, continuing to sniff near his neck. As the eldest brother and only omega of the Wayne Pack, Dick knew all of his siblings' scents like the back of his hand. He spent countless hours nuzzling and grooming them in the family's nest on nights when the world outside grew too heavy to bear any longer. Jason was no stranger to Dick's ministrations. Despite Dick's turbulent relationship with Bruce at the time of Jason's adoption, the omega bonded with the young pup immediately. Poor Jason had frozen the first few times, thoroughly confused by Dick's gentle affection. Over time, Jason grew to love grooming sessions, the smell of ginger and paper wafting off of him as Dick combed his black curls. Since his resurrection, Jason rarely visited the nest but Dick still knew his (new) scent: old books and motor oil. Only now, something floral lingered on Jason. Roses, perhaps? No, that wasn't right.

Dick leaned closer to get another whiff only for Jason to violently shove him away. "Knock it off!" the alpha snarled.

The cave fell silent. Slowly, the others turned to gawk at the red-masked vigilante. Jason never snarled at omegas, least of all his beloved brother. Anyone else was fair game: alphas like Bruce, betas like Tim, even Damian, the pup of the pack--- but never an omega like Dick. "My dad use to snarl at my mom," a newly presented Jason admitted to his brother years ago. "I don't want to be like him." Jason was certainly territorial. He always had been. But enough to growl at Dick?

"Jason," Bruce rumbled, warning laced in his words, "is everything alright?"

Jason gritted his teeth, backing further away from the group. "Yeah, Bruce. Everything's-"

"Something is wrong with Todd's scent," Damian stated, suddenly detecting the same oddity Dick had.

"Watch it, brat," Jason rumbled. Damian simply growled back.

Bruce's expression quickly shifted to one of concern. "Wrong how?"

"Nothing's wrong," Jason hissed. He turned to glare at his older brother. Dick only sent him a half apologetic smile in response. "Just haven't gotten a lot of sleep lately."

"Omega."

The entire room turned towards Cass. "He smells like an omega," the beta clarified softly. Jason's face turned as red as his helmet. His pack wasn't suppose to know that yet. Maybe ever.

A cheshire grin stretched on Stephanie's face. "Jason," she beamed, "are you courting an omega?"

Jason swallowed thickly. He could deny it. Tell them they were crazy, that he just got a new soap. But there wasn't much use of trying to keep a secret from the greatest detectives in the world. Jason averted his gaze, "So what?"

"AWW, LITTLE WING!" Dick cried, tackling his brother in a hug. Damian scowled. Cass and Duke laughed. Steph and Tim immediately began to tease him. Bruce simply looked pleased. "You're all so annoying!" Jason shouted, pushing Dick away. "This is why I don't tell you anything!"

Over the next few months, the bats managed to extract small pieces of information out of Jason. The omega, or rather, Y/N, lived across the hall from Jason. She was a student at Gotham University (though they hadn't been able to figure out her major). She was a year younger than Jason at twenty-one. She wasn't from Gotham, or even New Jersey, and she liked to bake. Jason's siblings could doubtlessness have discovered more information on their own but both Bruce and Alfred forbade the kids from looking into her any farther. "Hypocrite," Tim mumbled into his coffee. The beta knew full well Bruce likely had an entire file on her.

As for the progression of their relationship, the family was left completely in the dark. Or, that had been the case until last week when Jason texted two words to the family group, "We bonded."

Jason left everyone on read for days.

It took a rather stern phone call from Alfred for Jason to finally agree to introduce Y/N to the family. "Very good, Master Jason," Alfred said curtly like he hadn't just waged emotional warfare. "We will see you Saturday."

So here the bats sat, staring out the window, waiting to meet the newest member of their pack. For a few minutes, the room was silent besides Cassandra's quiet musing on the piano. Stephanie, predictably, was the first to break the silence. "What do you think she smells like?"

Coffee flew out of Tim's nose, sending the room into a fit of laughter. "Only-" Tim coughed violently, "you would ask *cough* something like that."

Steph beamed, "What? She's about to be a member of our pack." The blonde twisted onto her stomach, purple sneakers kicking the air. "It will be nice to finally have another omega in the pack. No offense, Dickie."

"None taken," Dick assured brightly.

"If father accepts her into the pack," Damian reminded his siblings.

Tim rolled his eyes, "We kept you, didn't we?"

Damian scowled, "Don't belittle me, Drake. I am heir to the Bat. You are-"

"Hey, come on now," Duke interrupted cheerful. "Wouldn't want to make a bad first impression." Tim and Damian grumbled but relented, Tim turning back to his computer and Damian to the window.

"Bruce will like her," Cass said confidently. "She makes Jason happy."

"She better," Damian grumbled quietly. "They're here."

The others rushed to join Damian, pressing their faces against the glass. In the drive below, Jason's old Chevrolet Nova idled to a stop. Jason stepped out of the car and crossed to the passenger's side. The bats held their breath as Jason opened the door and extended his hand. A woman wearing a floral dress stepped out of the black car, (h/c) curls falling down her back.

"Aww, she's pretty!" Stephanie cooed, nearly bouncing up and down from excitement.

"Little Wing's all grown up~" Dick sniffled, tears threatening to fall.

Damian scoffed. "Hmph, calm yourself, Richard." The pup quickly turned on his heel.

"And where are you going?" Tim demanded, casting Damian a judgmental scowl.

"Don't be an idiot, Drake. Obviously I'm going to see if she is worthy to be Akhi's mate. Come, Titus." Titus quickly obeyed, happily following behind Damian.

Hopeful Jason's omega was worth her mettle.

Pack Positions and Ages

Bruce Wayne - (Pack) Alpha - late 40s

Alfred Pennyworth - Beta - ????

Dick Grayson - Omega - 29

Jason Todd - Alpha - 22

Cassandra Cain - Beta - 20

Tim Drake - Beta - 18

Stephanie Brown - Alpha - 19

Duke Thomas - Alpha -16

He looks towards the direction of the scent and sees a reported who was staring straight back at him. Slowly they approached each other and started a conversation. Goddamn this guy was hot and the Midwestern accent was to die for. Clark Kent was his name.

They talked for a minute before Bruce offered Clark a private interview. A minute later they were in a small room on the other side of the venue. Now alone they began freely flirting with each other. Bruce had never met such a straightforward omega, but he was into it. Or so he thought.

Now alone, without the pheromones of dozens of other people in the air, they both managed to truly smell each other, and once they did, they both froze, as they realized the other was also an alpha.

They stared at each other, neither sure what to do. At this point neither could deny they found the other's pheromones attractive. Neither spoke, but neither was willingly to coward out so they began kissing.

Bruce had never kissed another alpha before. They fought for control. Bruce's mind was tearing itself apart, half of it wanted Clark, the other half considered him a threat. Bruce could tell Clark was suffering a similar mental battle.

Soon they began tearing the other's clothes off and eventually found themselves on a couch. Neither had to say anything, both wanted to go all the way, but neither was willingly to submit to the other. They grow at each other, but neither flitched at the other's challenge. After a few minutes of fruitless wrestling they agreed on a coinflip. Bruce lost.

Despite his concerns, Clark was gentle with him, making sure Bruce felt loved. The felling of sleeping with another alpha was strange, his mind still told him he was in danger, but the pleasure was amazing. After Clark finished, they switched positions and Bruce returned the favor. They went back and forth for a few hours before collapsing from exhaustion.

The next morning they had a long conversation, and agreed to date. They wouldn't be mates, they literally just met. They sneaked out through an old servants' tunnel and shared a kiss before going their own separate ways

On the way back to the manor Bruce couldn't help but smelling himself. Clark's scent had rubbed off on him, earlier Bruce could tell his own scent had rubbed off on Clark. Bruce loved it, he didn't give a damn if the whole world could tell he was intimate with another alpha.