batfamily · a/b/o · omegaverse · gala setting · dc comics · tension · pheromones · formal wear · family dynamics · angst
The grand ballroom of Wayne Manor is ablaze, each chandelier scattering fractured light across the polished marble. The air hangs heavy with the cloying scent of perfume, the crisp bite of champagne, and beneath it all, the dense, warm blanket of pack pheromones — yours most prominent, still fresh from the presentation. You're curled in a secluded alcove, the world feeling soft-edged and distant. Across the room, Tim's gaze ticks back to you like a silent clock. Jason leans against a pillar, his elegant jacket doing little to conceal the coiled tension in his posture. Cass is a mere suggestion in the wall's shadow. Dick's hand is a solid, warm weight on your shoulder, tethering you. The gala whirls on in ignorant opulence. Damian glides past with a tray, his scowl a clear deterrent. Duk…