Day 5 - Jealousy Possessiveness
Requite unrequited love | Omega Verse | Hanahaki disease
Ooof. I’ve done the Omega verse both ways and requited unrequited love more than a few times. I’ve read some Hanahaki disease fics that were amazing. But also, I’ve been asked so many times to write about jealousy, and I’m just terrible at it so what to do with this prompt?
I wasn’t sure, honestly, so I switched days and made this the Possessiveness prompt instead.
And um. You know that Alpha!Tim au that I kind of had going for a bit there? This ah, this might be that. So warnings for AOB.
Lastly, for the asshole that doesn’t like Jason Todd’s accent, this one is for you ;)
**
Jason Todd almost runs right inta his back when Dickie-boy stops inna middle of the fucking sidewalk. They’re in the daytime usual, hanging out ‘cause they both need ta visit some Omega stores here onna nice side a’ the business district.
Dickie’s been whining fer some new nesting supplies, and Jason has a preference when it comes ta scents, ‘specially when he starts ta go down.
(He ain’t gonna never admit the musk he finds smells close ta their big ole’ Pack Alpha, what still has problems comin’ back sometimes. Seems like Timmy knows why Jay’s heat safe house smells th’ way it do.)
So’s both a’ ‘em went ‘round ta a few stores and came out with some nice supplements for their upcoming lay-ins.
“Oi, Goldie,” it’s impossible to tell if Jay is irritable because they had to deal with some assholes onna way or if it’s just pre-Heat startin’ ta set in. Either way, he grips the older Robin by the elbow to get a lil’ get ta steppin’ motion.
“You’re really serious about this?” Is all Jay catches as Dickie gets with the fucking program an’ starts walking again, but the scent suddenly rollin’ offa him is a whole buncha angry. Seems like any asshole Alphas what think they might wanna piece’ll probably think twice.
“Oh, I’m going to handle it. Just as soon as I get back, I’m going to make a plan,” and the edge of growl, out here inna open makes it allll seem just a lil’ more important ta Jay’s immediate attention. “He’s not up for anyone. He’s ours, Gar. Do me a favor and get the word out. I’m going to make sure it’s extremely clear, but some notice will probably make it less scandalous.”
A pause an’ the Rolls they took from B is almost in view.
“This from you? You can’t even buy some shame, Beasty, so don’t lecture me on model behavior here. Apparently, some things need to be made absolutely clear in the community.”
Jay hits the clicker and the trunk rises, listening with half an ear as he tosses his bags in and Dick’s spine is rod straight as he does the same. Five minutes ago, ya couldn’t pry the new blankets from ‘im with a crowbar.
Jay takes a second to lean against the Rolls, lights a cigarette to smoke before they get in (only ‘case Alfie don’t like the smell a’ smoke onna leather, an’ yeah, yeah Jay can’t tell ‘im fuck that). His eyes, flecked with green, scan over his Pack Omega, nearly vibratin’ outta his skin with whatever’s comin’ from Titan’s Tower.
“Anyway, I appreciate the heads-up. We’ll handle it, Gar.” And Dick abruptly ends the call, eyes all narrow n’ lookin’ like he’s ready ta fight the whole lotta Rogue Gallery fuck-nuts.
Sue ‘im. Dickie looks hot when he’s all pissy. Just is what it is.
“Sounds like we godda problem in paradise, yeah?” He maneuvers around Dick ta get t’ the driver’s side first. He don’t want an angry Dickie trying ta drive ‘em back ta the Manor – no thanks.
“We do, but I’m going to pull a Pack O on this one, Jay Bird. Once we’ve had a discussion, I’m going to bring him back in time for our Heats. After that, we’re all going to have a nice understanding, don’t worry.”
And oh no, he ain’t worried no how. Might be a tad hopeful Dickie can finally talk some sense inta their reluctant Alpha. It’s ‘bout time he came back ta Gotham fer good.
**
When Red Robin gets the alert Nightwing is out of the city (this close to his Heat??), his entire brain pan process immediately shuts down.
He’s already in the re-made BatWing, flying stealth back to a temporary Perch he made in Gotham –
(not that he plans to keep it long-term, it’s more a landing pad for when the Bats called for him, which has been more frequent in the last three months than the last three years)
– when one of his always-running algorithms pinged with someone in the Haven live streaming a pretty righteous fight.
Between Nightwing and Deathstroke of all people.
Every instinct he has as an Alpha, even the new, more powerful instincts he attributes to being a stand-in Pack Alpha helping Omegas through their potentially fatal Heats, seems to come to the fore. The vigilante known as Red Robin takes a back seat to the Alpha male immediately changing course, twenty minutes out from the fight, and fixing his attention on the footage he managed to capture before the live went off the air.
He watches every move Deathstroke makes close to Nightwing, looks intensely at the back-and-forth banter, checks his own utility belt absently to make sure he is absolutely stocked.
In the twenty minutes it takes for the plane to hit the right airspace, he’s watched the footage no less than twenty times, paced the length of the Wing, and is ready to rip out Slade’s throat with his teeth.
It takes less than a few minutes for the vigilante brain to come up with a plan, and the Alpha male jumps from the open door just as nightfall hits.
**
“Oh, now Dick,” Slade is pacing his way around a span of garage doors in a small storage facility, “you forgot your suppressants, didn’t you?” He uses the tip of his sword to drag across the tin, absolutely giving himself away.
If there’s anything Slade Wilson enjoys, it’s a challenge.
“It’s understandable, you know,” he calls conversationally, “with how close you are, maybe you need an Alpha? That’s why you picked a fight me tonight, isn’t it?”
The soft sound of reinforced boots skims over metal and Slade smiles behind the mask.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” and his voice drops, lowers to an Alpha croon. “You don’t have to do all this to get my attention. I would be happy to take care of you.”
A swish on his right side.
“Of course, I know how much O’s love the chase. I do, too. But…you aren’t fooling anyone. I can smell you. You know that, don’t you?”
Something closer to the ground, a zaaf moving closer. And oh, this is going to be much easier than he thought.
“I have a place in the city, perfect for you. We can play as much as you want, hm? My knot can be all yours. Come out, and let Alpha help you.”
The night turns in his favor when Nightwing appears over the top of the storage building, already red in the face under his mask, sweat starting to slide down his neck.
“That’s a good Omega. You know what a good Alpha smells like, don’t you?” Slade’s mask tilts up to look at him, a stunning specimen in that skin-tight suit, smelling like sin and sex, and something wild, almost feral.
“I do,” Nightwing purrs from his perch over Slade’s head. “I know what a really good Alpha smells like.” Nightwing jerks his chin over, “when he’s not on suppressants, it smells like him.”
And when Slade turns, Red Robin is there to bring out every fighting style he’s ever learned in a brutal hand-to-hand brawl.
It takes him no time to disarm Slade with barely a flick of his wrist to send the belt of ammunition flying and the sword blocked by the bo, spinning it to lift the hilt right out of Slade’s hand. The furious lotus palm from Shiva, knuckle-break from Clyde, full leg extensions and speed from fighting King Snake, all of it puts Slade down to a knee.
The laugh is really a nail in his coffin. Slade just doesn’t know it yet.
“Really, kid? Ra’s players don’t hold a candle to me.” With all his enhancements, Slade rises to full height, cracks his neck and folds his arms over his chest. “I don’t play by Bat rules. I will kill you without losing a wink of sleep, little bird.”
“Only one crazy assassin gets to call me that,” Red Robin comes back, bo over both shoulders, hands hanging from it lazily.
“Aw, give Shiva my love next time you see her. Well, if you ever see her again.”
“She’s got more important assholes to worry about.”
“This is cute. You fight crime with your little team like this? Banter away and hope it’s distracting enough to get a few good punches in?”
“Hate to say it,” Red Robin closes one hand and opens it again, this time with a small remote control, “but it worked on you.”
The button activates and the loose lasso he’d tied around Slade during the fast and furious hand-to-hand, tightens immediately. The legendary assassin doesn’t even have a second to yell before he’s violently yanked through the air and slammed into several buildings by the speeding BatWing above.
Eminent threat handled, Red turns to the sweating vigilante still lounging overhead, and even through the quick-time suppressants he’d swallowed the minute he watched the footage couldn’t keep his scent from spiking.
He catches Nightwing visibly react to his Alpha aura, his scent, especially now that the deep growl that exists so far down comes further and further to the surface, the growl that tells him mine, mine, mine. No one else can have them, my Pack, my Omegas, my ma–
That is never going to happen, his less feral side cuts into that thought, forces him to back down, his hackles to slowly lower.
“T-Timmy,” N slumps over on the roof and Red Robin is leaping up before he thinks twice. He already has one arm over his shoulder, ready to lift the Omega.
“We need to get you out of here. I’ll come back for Slade–”
When N pulls a surprise on him and throws Red down, straddling his hips, a snarl as he leans down to put them face-to-face.
“Oh, we’re going to get out of here, but not until you tell me exactly what you said to the Power Company, Timmy.” “Wh-what? What I said to who now?”
And N has no problem shoving his hips down over the reinforced cup to grind right against the Alpha, make sure his scent is close to Timmy’s face.
“Didn’t you tell them you’re just a Service Alpha? Just helping out?” And N’s voice gets low, dangerous, his grip on Red’s wrist just this side of painful. “Like we don’t mean anything to you?”
“Dick–”
“That’s all we are? Not your Pack? Everything you’ve done with us, to us, was just being a good Alpha? Helping out Omegas in need?”
“I…Dick, B asked me to take care of you, no one ever said…Years, Dick, I spent years–”
“Do you even know how long we were waiting for you?” N is right in his face, snarling and angry, his scent spiking with hurt and betrayal. “Every year, Tim. Every year until you were old enough to come back and be our Alpha. Do you even know what Jay and I went through without an Alpha for our Heats unless we had to? What Cass and Alfred went through as our Betas? How hard B tried to let you make your own decisions but year after year he just kept hoping?”
At a loss, his brain pan torn between Tim Drake, Red Robin, and Alpha desperate to be Pack Alpha. He draws in a breath of Dick’s scent and just croons. The deep noise reverberates in his chest, something he can never remember making before tonight.
The sound hits Nightwing in the right place to weaken his grip and the lock of his elbows, arms no longer straining. It gives Red Robin the opportunity to shift his grip and lurch up to catch Dick around the mid-back, hold him close while the noise, the croon, makes every tense muscle in the Omega simply relax.
An Alpha’s croon is meant to mean safety and warmth and love and Pack, to mean, come to me, I’ll take care of you.
And it’s one of his Omegas that lies limply in his arms, hot face buried in his neck. Red reaches up quickly to pull off the scent-block patch so Dick can nuzzle close to his scent gland.
Another click of the remote and the plane heads back to them, an unconscious, dangling assassin hanging from the rope. A flick of the wrist and a whirlybird cuts through the rope holding Slade in the air, the sadly short drop accentuated with a whump. The sound of sirens signals it’s time for them to get ghost–
–and try to get back to the heat-safe room in Gotham before Dick goes fully under.
He pulls Dick’s power thighs around his hips and stands with his Omega clinging to him, fires a grapple up at the BatWing. The line reels them in quickly, up through the floor and into the cockpit.
Red manages to get the seat back far enough he doesn’t have to relinquish his hold, just keeps up the croon and strokes a hand down Dick’s back. He takes a wrist and wrestles off gloves and gauntlets, pulls at the sleeve until the scent glad in Dick’s wrist is bare. He lifts the wrist to the other side of his neck and rubs their scent glands together, chest vibrating with the combination of their scents.
“There,” breathed in his Omega’s ear, “this means I’m your Alpha, doesn’t it?”
Blearily, Dick manages to raise his head just enough to stare into the whiteouts. “Not yet,” he slurs out, completely lax with the powerful croon, “but we’ll work on it. Whole Pack…gonna make you ours.”
Tim hums and adjusts Dick on his lap to be able to fire the secondary set of thrusters, “I will absolutely look forward to it. For now, Alpha is going to find Jay and take care of you both. Luckily I brought you new nesting blankets.”
Dick laughs, his scent now happy and soft. Tim thinks he might just get used to it.
