Inspired off of @halluvic Batfam Blurb about a nonchalantly neglected reader idea. Which I think is so much fun for such an angst-filled fandom! High-key my go to thought everytime a neglected fic is missing the revenge.
Itâs so poetically perfect that the vigilante family that tends to forget you exist is oblivious to just how many adventures you have. Adventures that are more than the stiff and occasional reports from Alfred about your acrobatics to reach a cookie drawer. No, your adventures are borderline Constantine levels of wackiness and severity.Â
Think interdimensional bad-actors and fighting your own alternate versions! Before youâre even scraping double digits, youâve saved the multiverse more than once. Your notoriety for nothing other than the first name you identify yourself with, being sung in tales of great legends. All for you to be tucked happily in bed by nightfall.Â
Bruce and the others are none the wiser. Thinking that when they occasionally see you and pat your little head, that youâre oblivious to their alternate identities and are living the normal life theyâve ordained to be proper for you. Thatâs exactly what they do when they have Alfred fetch you before they go on another business seminar ie, a Justice League level threat well beyond the Earthâs solar system. They barely give a thought to Damian, whoâs just a few years your senior, is going but youâlike the perfect little cutout they seem to think you areâdonât complain a single bit while they drive away. How perfect of you!
It isnât until theyâre well beyond the realm of anticipated villains, something far darker than just Darkseid attempting to destroy Earth again, but something that brings a threat to all of reality. The creature thatâs summoned renders the Justice League to nothing but twigs as it bulldozes through Darkseid and his forces and the strongest among their ranks. With a single snap of itâs claws, it very well might destroy the Earth, and for once, even Batman is at a loss.
âWITH THIS I END YOURâOh wait, hold on! Hold the phone! Drop it and break it into a million pieces. Is this THE BATMAN?â
The gargantuan threat shrinks down and cartoonishly holds up Batman and the Robins, all the destruction coming to a stop as they coo at the entire Batfamily. Superman, Wonder-woman, and all in attendance canât help but weakly watch as their greatest foe simply diverts into some reality-warping fangirl.
âOMG, so you guys must be the family to THE GREAT (Y/N)!? What an honor!â
They proceed to conjure various (Y/n) merchandise that they ask the family to sign, all for Batman to use their autographs as a bargaining chip to not tear this dimension and their planet to shreds.
âOh yeah! Well of course, I wonât do that with (Y/n) here! Mad respect for that homie of mine! Anyway, tell them I said hi and Iâm still healing from our time back in Earth #3495830485. Haha, good times.â
Balance is restored instantly, and the whole time home everyone is nursing their life-threatening wounds as they ponder. Specifically on WHO THE HECK IN GOTHAM CITY IS (Y/N)?! Because clearly, the people who claim to be your family genuinely donât know you at all. And as much as usual scowl behind his cowl fools the JL about how much Bruce knows about his own kid, heâs forced to reconcile that he knows next to nothing. Alfredâs reports, as much as theyâve dwindled over the past year, just arenât accurate enough to miss this huge part of your character.
âWelcome back, Master Bruce. I trust your trip went swell?â
âWhereâs (Y/n)?â
âIn their room, but theyâre currently napping. Why the sudden interest?â
â....â
â(Y/n) somehow saved us from an Eldritch goddess of reality, just by mere mention of their name. We have a lot to talk about.â
â...I see, Master Damien. Iâll be bringing up some cookies for this conversation.â
Before they even speak to you, theyâre already scanning you and holding you every which way to see some visible sign that you might be this intergalactic force that completely slipped past their radar.Â
âTalk! What have you been hiding!?â
âIâŠhavenât really been hiding anything.â
âLook (Y/n), this is a safe space weâre listening now.â
â...Iâm literally not hiding anything.â
âYeah, Kid, and Iâm Lady Liberty. Spill.â
âUh, pretty sure you died before, how bout you spill.â
â(Y/n), will you please tell me about yourself for real this time.â
â..hmm okay.â
Itâs Bruce who really comes to terms with how much heâs missed, even before you tell him about that particular experience with that Eldritch entity. He sees the way you canât look into his eyes for more than 5 seconds. Or how all your stuffed animals are near your bed like you cuddle up to them at night. Or the small, untouched spider web hanging near your bedpost.Â
It almost feels like when he lost Jason.Â
He failed. He has failed you. Having no choice but to come to terms when he hears you explain the intricacies of the multiverse and how youâve gotten the majority of them to leave your world alone. His heart-stone-cold and walled up, melting when you talk about how the other universeâs batfamilies immediately embraced you. Doppelgangers who, by rules of the multiverse, should want to kill you, loving you in a way youâve never been loved. Interdimensional entities coming to visit, teaching you the different parts of growing up that you had no one to talk to you about.Â
âI will be better for you, (Y/n). I promise.â
âUh okayâŠCan you shut the door when you leave?â
â....yes.â
âThanks.â
The reward that other Yandere Batfamilies receive with a reconciliation is the emotional prize. Youâre in tears, your angry-blow-up, and the cold verbal smackdown that you deliver tells them that youâre broken and you desperately need them. Or youâre clearly so hurt that they have no choice but to forcefully soothe youâre aching feelings. But without the emotional getback, it leaves them reaching out constantly to soothe their own mounting guilt.Â
âUhm (Y/n) do you maybe want to go for ice-cream with your big brother? Iâve got some extra time and Iââ
âNo thanks, Iâm hanging out with DP today.â
âBut itâs been so longââ
âNope. Bye.â
â----
âHey, Oracle and I are leading patrol. Today's an easy day so just this once we donât mind bringing you with usââ
âDonât wanna.â
âUhhh, why not? Didnât we say we were going to get to know each other?â
âYou did. I didnât, itâs cool I know enough.â
âEven about our cool hero lives?â
âEspecially about your mid hero lives.â
__________
âBirth sibling! You will join me in this movie marathon! In order for success within the school I must be up to date on the Terminator movies.â
âIâll save you the time. The past is always in danger all the time, and if you are Sarah Conner, change your name.â
âI think you forgot that Raâs Al Ghul doesnât allow failure. And this will double as time to get to know one another so youâll be coming with me!â
âI think you forgot who has access to portals to leave whenever they want. So no.â
Needless to say, the family has their work cut out for them. Especially since youâre so much more than just a little kid. Your little kid with the world at their fingertips. Not to mention the other league members who feel like they should be aware of the powerful force their adversaries keep raving about.
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When Jake and Neytiri's youngest daughter was born, Jake expected her to be even a little bit like him, but no. You were born completely your mother's daughter from your features, to your hands, to your attitude. Especially your personality.
You had the tendency to hiss at people that annoyed you even over the littlest of things, like Lo'ak taking a toy from you, or Neteyam trying to tell you it's time for a nap, you would bare your little fangs and hiss at them- it honestly reminded Jake of when he first met Neytiri. You also had the bad habit of slapping people, having watching your mother slap Jake upside the head countless of times.
"(Name) you need to take a nap." Jake stood in front of his four year old, his large blue hands planted on his waist. You looked up at him with your large, yellow eyes and proceeded to hiss at your father before taking your toy- and plopping yourself down into your mother's lap.
Jake sighed, scratching the back of his neck as he walked over to his mate and youngest. Neytiri didn't seem phased by her youngest, just continued weaving a top she had been making for Kiri. "Come on, up you get." Jake announced, tucking his hands under your armpits and lifting you up - only to get smacked in the face.
Hey yall this my first ever fic, be nice. Sorry it's short.
đ /đ : I've had this idea for some time now and it won't let my mind rest, so I just gotta write it down before it disappears in my mind and also bc I can't focus on studying bc of this. Might make a part 2 once exam week is over hehe
đŠđȘđ»đ·đČđ·đ°đŒ ! : child neglect, mentions of blood, animatronics, batfam being neglectful, kinda rushed writing
Alfred Pennyworth considered himself as the grandfather of little miss [name] ever since Bruce Wayne found out that he has a child, adopting you when your mother abandoned you.
Bruce Wayne was a good father to you, constantly there for you, plays with you, and even comforts you in the nights where dreams plague your mind. For your birthday, he gives you ridiculous gifts and things a toddler or child could possibly dream of.
Dick is another member of the family â the big brother. Alfred told you that he was so delighted to have a baby sister when you were brought in the Manor. Unlike Bruce, he was always there, never leaving your side. You want to play? He's there with a bunch of new toys. Color with him? He already has so many coloring books for you two to try.
As for Barbara, she was so happy to have another girl in the Manor. She often braided your hair, styled you, and stuck around you along with Dick. She even called you an intelligent child, that maybe someday you can challenge her own intelligence.
Then there's Jason.
Like Dick, he's also delighted, but not to Dick's level of happiness. He lingered, teaching you some tricks and making you laugh. He's the playful big brother to you. Always making you laugh, sneaking around the kitchen at night â even though you two get caught.
They all suddenly stopped.
It had been three years since they spent time with you properly.
Bruce became distant, Dick no longer visits you much, Barbara became busy, and Jason â you don't know where he is.
Alfred assured you that your father, brother, and sister were just a little busy at the moment and that they will eventually come around and spend some time with you.
But when you run up to your father when he enters the huge doors of the Manor â greeting him and clinging to his leg â he dismisses you, saying that he was too tired to play.
That's what he always says for the past three years.
As for Dick, you often tell Alfred to call him on the phone so you could talk to him. But oftentimes, your voice just goes to his voice mail.
You tried to spend time with your older sister, Barbara, but she was too busy to even respond to you.
Saddened by their sudden distance to you, you asked Alfred with teary eyes if something was wrong. He couldn't bear to see you like that, so he told you that everything will be alright.
Then you asked about Jason, to which he didn't reply. He doesn't know how to tell you that he's gone without you throwing into a fountain of tears.
Maybe he was just on a trip! A vacation! You convinced yourself.
Then, a month later came a fourteen year old boy, Tim Drake.
You were going to greet your father as always, when you saw him, instantly smiling and waving. This time, Bruce acknowledged your presence by simply introducing you to him, saying that this boy is gonna be your big brother.
By this exciting news, you practically lunged your little body at your new big brother, hugging him. His body went stiff, awkwardly reciprocating your hug.
You thought that maybe they would spend some time with you now. They don't look that busy anymore!
Tim spent time with you, asking some basic questions like what's your favorite color? That was a great start for you. But one day, you didn't see him around the Manor until late at night to the early mornings. Then he became distant, often in his room or somewhere else.
You felt sad by this. You wondered how they were always so busy all of a sudden.
And then someone new arrived as well. A blonde girl, probably near Tim's age. Stephenie.
She was like a female version of Dick, all smiles and hugs when you met her. It made you miss your eldest brother dearly, along with Jason. Your time with Stephanie went great, you two laughed, played, and spent time together. But you knew it wouldn't last, since she slowly grew a bit distant.
How silly of you to think they'll have time for you. They're all grown, and you're just a little kid.
Weeks ago, you kept telling them about your birthday so they could celebrate it with you. They said yes, bluntly. And even though the response was cold, your eyes glimmered with hope.
But no. All hope and dreams came crashing down when your fifth birthday arrived.
So here you are, with Alfred â the only one in the family that sees you. The cake mainly went untouched, just a small piece of it gone for the two people to eat.
You sighed. âWhy won't they comeâŠ?â
Putting a hand on your small back, Alfred once again tried to reassure you. âI'm sure they'll come, miss [name].â
In all honesty, Alfred is tired of reassuring you. He felt that it wasn't enough. Your sad tears challenged him whenever they ignored you. He have concerned the neglectful attitude of the family to Bruce, but he was still engrossed to mourning his second child, forgetting about you entirely.
âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”
Alfred gave you a camera for your birthday, since you always took his phone to take pictures and take videos of things, mainly recording your life so that you can show Bruce and your siblings what they have been missing, so they could catch up.
Everyday, you hold the camera. To your school, to even small walks or errands with Alfred. You record and take pictures of your life, often talking â informing what you feel, where you are, and stuff.
And one day, a Pizzeria opened up in the gloomy city of Gotham.
Circus Babyâs Pizza World
It attracted many people, mainly children, families, and some freshly new teenagers.
And you, being five years old going to six years old, grew curious about it. One of your classmates mentioned it to you, saying that they went there and it was super fun.
With your upcoming birthday in a few days, you used it as an excuse to Alfred to go there with him and your friends. You'll invite your father and siblings of course, but you doubt that they'll come anyway.
However, by your sudden proposal to go there, Alfred sadly has duties to Batman at that time where you wanna go. Of course, he couldn't tell you that, you know nothing of it.
But your pleading eyes and insistence made him sigh and call one of your friendâs parents to accompany you. Alfred informs them that he'll handle everything financially and might try to convince the pizzeria to have the place all for yourself and your friends.
While he talks through the phone, you run off to your father's office. You knocked until you heard him saying âcome inâ. You pushed the door open, running to him.
âDaddy! A special day is coming ââ
âAnd?â He didn't even look at you, he only stared at the papers in his hand.
You felt so small in his presence, intimidated by your own father due to the rift in your relationship. âWell⊠it's gonna be my birthday! I â uhmâŠâ you fiddled with your fingers, trying to find the right words to say to him. Maybe if you manage to at least say something good, he might come. âCan you please come with me? It's in the new pizzeria that opened â!â
âI'm a bit busy, [name]. Go ask your siblings to come with you.â As if he didn't hear the word âbirthdayâ. And as always, he dismissed her.
âOh.â
âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”
Then you went to Tim's room.
âTimmy!â You knocked, then knocked again when he didn't answer.
And at the fifth knock, he opened the door with a tired look as always â eye bags stretched under his eyes as he looked down at you with a raised brow. As if seeing you made him lose the tiny amount of energy in him.
âCan you come with me to the new pizzeria? It's my birthdaââ
âNo, [name],â he sighed, exhausted. âI have too many things to do, and I'm exhausted, can't you see?â
All excitement died down as you looked at the ground. âOh, sorry.â
âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”
You asked the girls. Barbara shook his head, saying that she had something important to do. And Stephanie said that she might hang out with Cassandra â the new member of the family.
She was quiet and never really interacted with you, only acknowledging your presence by a nod or a quick glance.
You have no hope there.
âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”
Since you haven't heard of Jason and the family's constant avoidance of answering you about him, the last person you could ask was Dick.
And as always, he was probably in BlĂŒdhaven. When you went back to Alfred, you asked him to make a call.
But to your dismay, it ended up in his voice mail again. This must be at least the 35th time. âHi, big brother! My birthday is coming up! Uhm⊠I know you're busy and I'm probably disturbing you â but can you please come with me to Circus Babyâs Pizza World? The others can't come so I figured you couldâŠ? I'm going there at 2 pm, see you there!â
âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”
The day came for your birthday.
Alfred spent the entire morning celebrating your birthday with you while the others⊠overslept as you know of. He baked a birthday cake for you, just how you like it.
Then when the afternoon came, you dressed in comfortable clothing fit for a birthday girl yet comfortable enough to move around freely.
âI'm ready!â You excitedly exclaimed.
Alfred smiled, kneeling to your level. âYou look adorable as always, miss [name].â
âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”
The pizzeria looks so vibrant in contrast to Gotham. Inside, chairs and long tables with party decorations were arranged nicely. Your friends sat on either side of you, their parents on one side talking to each other.
Suddenly, the lights started to dim. âThe show will begin momentarily. Everyone please stay in your seats.â The voice, an eerily calm one cut through the dark.
A single light focused on the stage. And as the curtains of the stage opened up, Circus Baby came into view, singing a birthday song.
Your friends shrieked in delight, clapping at the animatronic and saying happy birthday to you.
You smiled, happy that you can celebrate here. But through the smile and laughter you share with your friends, a pang of sadness struck you. Their family was here, unlike yours.
âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”âżïž”
After eating pizza and some other foods, a staff member informed all of you to go to another location in the building â a mini playground. All of you were excited and hurriedly went there, but you stopped in your tracks, holding onto one of your friend's parents.
âUhm, I need to go to the bathroom for a moment.â You shyly confessed. âOh, of course dear. Do you want me to go with you?â
You shook your head, saying you'll catch up to the group.
Hurriedly, you sprinted to the nearest bathroom. And by the time you went out, all of them were already in the other room.
You followed suit, but your footsteps grew heavy, as if not wanting to leave yet. The room was slightly dimmed, but the stage lighting remained on the star of the stage â Circus Baby.
You turned to look at it again. Mesmerized by the animatronic. Her head constantly moved, her blue eyes observing the room and eventually landed on you. She tilted her head, and you laughed lightly at how cute the animatronic looks.
Your own legs began to move before you could even process what was happening. Grabbing your camera encircled around your neck, you took it off around you and started recording as you went closer.
She looked down at your little figure as you climbed up the stage, slowly stepping closer.
âPrettyâŠâ you mumbled in awe, and wondered if your own father would give you something marvelous like this, if he would even remember.
You stepped back with a gasp as her stomach opened. âIce Cream?â A claw extended towards you with an ice cream. Your eyes sparkled as you managed to mutter a âwowâ by how well equipped she was.
âThank you!â You stepped closer, extending your hand to take the ice cream.
But suddenly, she started to shake uncontrollably, dropping the ice cream from the claw. You stepped back, afraid as you clung to your camera. Did you accidentally break it? But you didn't do anything wrong! Maybe you should run, yes, run.
You went to run off the stage, but the metal claw pierced through your back, trapping your waist in its claws and pulling you towards her stomach. You screamed, terrifyingly so that it echoed almost throughout the building before it stopped permanently.
The camera laid on the ground under a table, having been tossed â almost broken yet still alive and recording with bits of blood staining it.
Guess Bruce Wayne won't get greeted by his daughter anymore.
No warning. No explanation. One moment Jason is alone and the next, thereâs a kid sitting on his motorcycle, calling him Dad like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
The child knows his name, knows the family, knows things they shouldnât be able to know.
Worse, they have proof.
the child isnât scared. They arenât confused. Theyâre soft, trusting, affectionate, utterly certain they belong here. Certain Jason is their father. Certain this is home.
Jason doesnât know when this child is from.
Or how they arrived.
Or what kind of future could produce something like this.
All he knows is that every instinct in him says this shouldnât exist.
The night patrol passed like any other. Nothing out of the ordinaryâif anything, it was almost peaceful. The shift was nearly over, and they gathered briefly before splitting up, each heading their separate ways.
Jason had only stepped away from his bike for five minutesâfive goddamn minutesâto grab intel from one of his contacts in Crime Alley. When he returned, ready to head back to his safehouse, he froze.
There was a kid sitting on his motorcycle.
Not near it. Not looking at it. On it. Perched on the seat like they owned the damn thing, legs swinging casually, completely unbothered by the fact that this was Red Hood's bike in one of Gotham's worst neighborhoods at night.
"Kid," Jason called out, his voice edged with warning as he approached. His hand instinctively moved toward his holster before he stopped himself, it was just a kid, probably no older than six or seven. "What the hell are you doing on someone else's ride?"
The child looked up at him with an expression that was far too calm for the situation. No fear. No surprise. Just... mild annoyance?
Jason glanced around the empty street, his instincts screaming that something was off.
No parents in sight. No one running after a lost kid. The area was deserted except for the distant sound of sirens.
"Where are your parents?" he asked, studying the kid more carefully now.
This wasn't some street kid. Their clothes were too clean, too well-fitted, a nice jacket, good shoes, and a shirt that probably cost more than what most families in this neighborhood made in a week. The kid was well-fed, well-groomed, clearly cared for.
So what were they doing here? Alone? On his bike?
The kid's expression shifted from annoyed to offended, their small face scrunching up in a way that was almost... familiar.
"Dad! What's wrong with you?!"
Jason's brain screeched to a halt. "What?"
"I said," the kid repeated, crossing their arms with the kind of attitude that would've made Damian proud, "what's wrong with you? Why are you acting like you don't know me?"
Jason's brain stuttered to a halt. 'Huh? What? Dad? Me? A father?' His confusion only deepened as he tried to process what he'd just heard.
âYes! Youâre my dad!â The child held up the locket, hands trembling with excitement.
The photograph inside captured Jason as he had never seen himselfâolder, grayer, faint wrinkles at his eyes, smiling with a warmth he didnât recognize as his own.
In his arms was the child, barely five years old, tucked close, gazing up at him like the world had already decided where it belonged.
"Wait, let me see that..." Jason took the locket necklace to examine it more closely. The photo looked recent, almost too recent.
But what really caught his attention was the small tracker embedded in the back of the locket, technology that was unmistakably from the Batcomputer. Who is this kid?
He looked back at the child. "How old are you?"
âSeven!â the kid said brightly, then held up all ten fingers. Jason exhaled through his teeth. âSeven,â the kid corrected quickly. âI think.â
'Ten or seven?' Jason mentally noted the discrepancy. "How did you get out here by yourself?"
âAnd how did you get out here?â Jason asked, voice low now.
The kid laughed, small and nervous, eyes flicking away. âDonât be mad, okay? I just⊠I found a hole in the wall.â
Footsteps sounded behind Jason before he could respond. He turned just as Red Robin came into view, already mid-sentence, then stopping short. Timâs gaze slid past Jason, straight to the kid sitting on the motorcycle.
âJason, Bruce is looking forââ Tim cut himself off. âWhy there is a child on your bike?â
The kid grinned, bright and unbothered, like this was exactly how things were supposed to go. âHiiiii, Uncle Tim!!â
Tim froze. The surprise wasnât just the kid, it was the name. â...What?â he breathed, the shock sharp and immediate, because no one was supposed to know who he was.
Silence settled thick and immediate.
Tim stared, then crouched slightly, eyes catching on the necklace, the backpack slung over the kidâs shoulder. A Robin keychain hung from the zipper, and when Tim looked closer, he saw the subtle stitching that hid yet another tracker.
They checked everything. The necklace. The bag. The clothes. Wayne Enterprises labels appeared again and again, neat and undeniable, enough to suggest coincidenceâif not for the photo, the tech, the way the child said dad and uncle without hesitation or doubt. there is no way that's a lie.
_____________________________________
Tim and Jason exchanged a look.
The trackers, the photo, the Wayne branding, none of it fit cleanly into clear explanation Tim could pull from his head. Whatever this was, it wasnât something they could leave standing on an empty street.
A moment later, Dick arrived, slowing as soon as he took in the scene. His gaze moved from Jason, Tim and.. the child perched too comfortably on Jasonâs bike, "what is going on here?"
Jason let out a breath through his nose. âI donât even know where to start.â
Dick didnât press. He glanced down the street instead, the quiet, the cold, the faint hint of dawn already settling in, before looking back at the kid. âWe should move,â he said quietly. âThis isnât a conversation for the middle of the city.â
They formed a loose circle around the child, close enough to contain him without crowding. Dick crossed his arms. âKid,â he called, âyouâre coming back to the manor with us.â
âOkay!â the kid answered instantly, bright and easy.
âWeâll take the Batmobile,â Dick added.
The kid hesitated, then stepped closer to Jason instead, fingers reaching out to clutch the edge of his jacket. ââŠI donât want to,â they muttered, grip tightening. âI want to go with Dad. On the bike.â
Jason frowned. âThe bikeâs cold, and Iâm not even going to the manor,â he said, trying to peel the kidâs fingers away. The effort only made the child cling harder.
âIâm going with Dad!â the kid insisted, voice rising. Tim opened his mouth, then closed it again before finally sighing. ââŠFine. Jason can ride in the Batmobile too.â
âNo,â Jason said immediately. âThatâs not happening. Whoâs taking my bike, then? you?â He tried again to ease the childâs fingers loose. âCome on. Let go.â
The childâs lower lip trembled. âI want to go with Dad,â they said, voice wobbling, cracking as tears spilled over. âDad, youâre being mean⊠you donât want me anymore..â
Jason froze mid-motion, a cold thread of dread crawling up his spine.
Dick immediately elbowed Jason in the ribs, giving him a pointed look. "Just give in for a bit, man. Come on, it's almost morning. Poor kid's exhausted."
Their attention shifted back to the childâtear-streaked, fingers still tangled in Jasonâs jacket, knuckles white with the effort of holding on.
Jason looked down at the small figure clinging to him like he was the only solid thing left, and hated how natural it looked, how wrong it felt that the child seemed to belong there anyway.
Jason groaned, running a hand down his face as the child sobbed into his jacket, tiny shoulders shaking. 'This is emotional blackmail. Why is it working?'
"Fine! Fine!" Jason threw his hands up. "Stop crying, okay? We'll take the bike."
The child was still crying softly, tears clinging to their lashes as they looked up at Jason. Big, watery eyes searched his face. âReally?â
âYes, really,â Jason muttered, shooting a glare at Dick, who was very clearly fighting back a grin. âBut you hold on the entire time. If you let go even once, weâre switching to the Batmobile. Got it?â
âYes, Dad,â the child answered softly, voice hoarse and tired from crying. They wiped at their face with the back of their sleeve, eyelids drooping even as they nodded. âIâll⊠Iâll hold on tight. Really tight.â
Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. âJason, you know Bruce is going toââ
âBruce can deal with it,â Jason cut in, already turning toward his motorcycle. âYou two take the Batmobile. Weâll meet you there.â
Dick finally let his smile show. âYouâre such a softie.â
âShut up, Grayson,â Jason muttered. He reached up and gently wiped the tears from the childâs cheeks before shrugging off his jacket and draping it around their shoulders. âHere. Put this on.â He adjusted it properly, tugging it closer. âAnd stop crying already. Whatâs your name, kid?â
The child sniffled, rubbing at their eyes with the sleeve that was far too long. âIâm⊠Reader,â they said weakly, voice still thick from crying. After a beat, they added with quiet indignation, âDadâs mean. Why would you ask what is my name.. hiksâ
âYeah, yeah,â Jason sighed. âSorry.â
âDadâs mean,â Dick teasing lightly, grinning as he picked up the kidâs bag.
The child giggled despite themself, small and tired, and Dickâs grin only widened.
Jason reached his bike and pulled the spare helmet from the storage compartment. It was far too big for a seven-year-old, the padding loose and imperfect, but it was all he had.
He crouched and settled it carefully over the childâs head, fingers lingering as he adjusted the straps, slower and more cautious than usual.
âAlright,â he said quietly. âRules. Hold onto me. Donât let go. Donât move around too much. Okay?â
âMm,â the child answered softly, nodding instead of speaking, exhaustion weighing down their movements.
Jason swung his leg over the bike, and the child climbed up behind him with help, arms wrapping around his waist without urgency, more for balance than excitement. The hold was tight but unsteady, like they were afraid of slipping rather than clinging on purpose.
âNot too tight,â Jason muttered. âI need to breathe.â
The child loosened their grip a fraction, forehead resting briefly against his back.
âSorry..â they whispered, voice small.
A few steps away, Dick and Tim were still watching. Dick tilted his head slightly, eyes lingering on the child. âTheyâre too small to be sitting back there,â he said quietly. âIf they slip, Jason might not even feel it.â
âAnd that helmetâs barely holding,â Tim added, his gaze fixed on the loose strap.
Jason let out a slow breath. âSo what?â
Tim stepped closer. âReaderâhey,â he said gently. âJust for a second, okay?â He lifted the child with careful hands, supporting their weight as he shifted them forward and settled them in front of Jason instead.
The child didnât resist. They only leaned back against Jasonâs chest, shoulders slack, exhaustion still heavy in their body.
Jason shot Tim an irritated look. âSeriously?â
âItâs safer,â Tim replied evenly. âAt least youâll know where the kid is the entire ride.â
Jason adjusted his arms, steadying the small body in front of himâand hated how natural the motion felt.
Dick headed toward the Batmobile, still grinning. âSee you at the Manor, Dad.â
âI swear to God, Dickââ
âBye, uncles,â the child murmured weakly, lifting a small hand in a lazy wave as the Batmobile pulled away.
Tim shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his mouth as he followed Dick. âTry not to traumatize the kid with your driving, Jason.â
âMy driving is fine,â Jason called back as he started the engine, the familiar rumble cutting through the quiet street.
He pulled onto the road at a measured paceâslower than he ever rode, slower than felt natural. With a small body pressed against him, he wasnât taking chances.
Gothamâs streets were nearly empty, washed in pale blue as dawn began to creep in. Somewhere between intersections, Jason felt the childâs weight shift, their body relaxing fully against his chest, breaths evening out into a soft, steady rhythm.
'âŠGreat. The kidâs falling asleep on a moving motorcycle.'
Jason didnât speed up. Didnât take sharp turns. He just kept the ride smooth and steady, carrying the quiet weight with him all the way to the Manor.
_____________________________________
They reached the Batcave just as dawn began to bleed faintly into the sky above.
Jason killed the engine, and before he could say anything, the child slid off the bike with practiced ease, landing lightly on their feet like they'd done it a hundred times before.
They didn't wait for him, didn't pause to take in their surroundingsâjust walked forward with casual familiarity, as if the cavernous space was nothing more than another room they knew by heart.
Straight toward the Batcomputer.
Where Bruce was sitting with Damian.
Both of them looked up at the sound of the motorcycle, their gazes landing first on the kid, then shifting to Jason with identical expressions of confusion and suspicion.
Bruce stood slowly, his imposing frame casting a long shadow in the dim light of the cave. "Why did you bring a child here?" His voice was measured, controlled, but there was an edge beneath it. "Who is this?"
The hesitation vanished in an instant. The kid's face lit up like someone had flipped a switch. "Oh! I'm Reader, Grandpa! How could you forget?!" They rushed forward without a shred of fear and wrapped their arms around Bruce's leg in an enthusiastic hug.
Bruce stiffened, clearly not expecting the contact.
Reader pulled back just enough to hold up the locket, flipping it open to show the photo inside. "See? Grandpa looks just like Dad!" they said brightly, pointing between the older Jason in the photo and Bruce's face.
Damian and Bruce both leaned in to examine the locketâthe photo of the kid standing beside an older, more weathered version of Jason.
Then their eyes moved to Reader, and finally to Jason standing several feet behind, his arms crossed and his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and resignation.
Damian's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Todd, what is the meaningâ"
"We're just as confused as you are," Tim cut in, stepping into the cave with Dick close behind. "But I don't think the kid is lying."
He held up the small Robin keychain, turning it so the embedded tracker caught the light. "Everything Reader has on themâclothes, accessories, this trackerâit's all Wayne tech. High-grade stuff. And this," he tapped the keychain, "is directly connected to the Batcomputer. Same encryption we use."
Bruce's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. His gaze dropped back down to Reader, who had released his leg and was now bouncing slightly on their heels, looking up at him with wide, expectant eyes.
"Grandpa! Grandpa, pick me up!" Reader lifted both arms overhead, hands opening and closing in the universal gesture of a child wanting to be held.
No one moved.
The Batcave fell into a thick, uncomfortable silence. All eyes lingered on Readerâa small child who shared no physical resemblance with Bruce, with Jason, or with anyone else in the Cave. Their features were unmistakably their own, belonging to no one present, and yet they stood there as if the space had always been theirs.
Bruce didnât pick the child up. Instead, he crouched, lowering himself to eye level, the habit automatic as his mind began sorting through variables and improbabilities. âReader,â he said carefully, his voice gentler now but still precise, âwho are your parents? Your motherâwho is she?â
Reader tilted their head, confusion crossing their face as if the question itself didnât quite register. âMy Dad is your son, JJason Peter Toddd,â they said, pointing at him as if clarifying something obvious.
Then they shrugged, entirely unbothered. âBut Dad says I donât have a mom. He said I was born from a tree,â they added, thoughtful for a beat. âLike Timun Mas or Princess Kaguya.â
âMustâve read too much fairy tale,â Damian muttered under his breath.
âSssstttt,â Bruce said quietly, without looking away from the child.
I mean, what do you tell a child whoâs too young to understand, when even you donât know the truth about where they come from?
_____________________________________
second person point of view
Bruce doesnât press the question after that. Instead, he let you a little closer, one arm steady at your back as you shift and settle into his lap on your own, like youâve quietly decided this is the safest place to be.
You lean against his chest, smaller and quieter now, the earlier certainty finally worn down by fatigue.
The Cave slips into a waiting hush. Bruce stays where he is, gaze distant as his thoughts move silently, while the others linger nearby, careful not to crowd.
You remain still in his arms, fingers loosely curled into the fabric of his suit, blinking slowly as the long night catches up with you.
One by one, the rest of the family arrives.
Cass appears first, silent as ever, her eyes finding you immediately and lingering with that unsettling focus she uses for things she hasnât figured out yet. Stephanie follows not long after, drawn in by Timâs vague message that apparently just said you need to see this.
Soon, the Batcaveâs main workspace feels crowded in a way it rarely does. Everyone stands a little too stiff, a little too deliberate, their attention drawn again and again to the small, drowsy figure curled against Bruceâs chest.
You blink slowly, fighting sleep, cheek resting against him as questions hang heavy and unspoken in the air.
âIs that⊠a new kid?â someone whispers, barely audible.
âNo,â another voice murmurs back. âThatâs Jasonâs.â
ââŠWhat?â
The word echoes softly, unfinished, as several heads turn, toward you, then Jason, like no one is quite sure what theyâve just heard.
You shift slightly on Bruceâs lap and yawn, your head tipping against his shoulder before you straighten again, fighting sleep more out of habit than need. Bruce adjusts his hold without thinkingâsteady, stills, as if suddenly aware of how many eyes are on the two of you.
The Cave feels tighter all at once. Conversations taper off, movements slow, and the attention in the room sharpensânot on Bruce, but on you.
âWe need to talk for a moment,â Bruce says at last, his gaze sweeping over the group gathered in the BatcaveâAlfred, Tim, Dick, Jason, Cass, and Stephanie.
Youâre still on his lap as he speaks, your eyes drifting now and then to Damian with awkward uncertainty, while Damian returns the look with his usual flat, unreadable stare.
Bruce gently lifted you and set you onto a nearby chair. âReader, stay here for a bit, alright?â he said softly. âWith Damian.â
âWhy me?â Damian asked at once, displeasure plain in his tone.
Your eyes widened and you shook your head immediately. âI wanna stay with Grandpa,â you said, casting Damian a wary glance. âI donât wanna be near him.â
âI donât want to be near a spoiled brat either,â Damian shot back.
âDamian,â Bruce said quietly, in that tone that wasnât quite a request. âJust for a few minutes.â
The others moved off toward the far side of the Cave, voices dropping as they began a private discussion, leaving you and Damian near the Batcomputer. The silence that followed stretched thin and uncomfortable.
You fidget with the hem of your jacket, sneaking glances at him before finally working up the courage to speak. âAre you really Uncle Damian?â
âUncle?â Damian repeats, one eyebrow twitching.
You tilt your head, studying him with quiet seriousness. âWell⊠your name is Damian, and youâre short,â you pause . âYouâre totally different from my Uncle Damian. But your attitudeâs the same, super grumpy. Not fun at all.â
Damianâs jaw tightened. After a beat, he held out his hand. âLet me see your locket.â
âOkay.â You slipped the necklace over your head and handed it to him.
Damian examined it carefully, eyes sharp as he opened the locket. His expression shifted, just slightly. âTt. Todd looks ancient here.â
âWell, yeah,â you shrug. âDad is old. Even now his hairâs already going gray.â You glanced toward the group murmuring in the distance, then back at Damian. âItâs weird though. Grandpaâs older than Dad, but Dadâs the one with gray hair. Heâs such an old man.â
âHmph. Old man,â Damian muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself.
âYouâre a tiny kid,â you shot back.
âExcuse me?â Damian snapped. âIâm older than you, you kindergarten baby.â
You went quiet for a moment, face scrunching as you thought hardâthen brightened. âWell⊠youâre short.â
Damianâs eye twitched.
âShort and grumpy,â you added, clearly pleased.
âI am not short, I am still growing, you insolentââ
âShooort,â you sing-songed, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.
Across the Cave, Stephanie leaned closer to Tim, whispering, âAre they⊠actually getting along?â
âThatâs what you call getting along?â Tim asked, incredulous.
Dick grinned. âFor Damian? Yeah. Thatâs basically a heartfelt bonding moment.â
Alfred observed the exchange with faint amusement. âIt would seem Master Damian has acquired a⊠peer,â he said. âHow⊠refreshing.â
Near the Batcomputer, the bonding continued.
_____________________________________
A few hours later, when the sun is already bright aboveground, you wake up somewhere unfamiliar. Not the Batcaveâbut a quiet, empty room, clean and orderly, like itâs waiting to be decided what itâs meant for.
Alfred is there not long after, gentle and unhurried as he helps you get ready for the day, treating the whole thing as if itâs perfectly normal.
Thereâs nothing special planned. No grand welcome, no explanations you can understand yetâjust an effort to ease you into the space, to make the hours pass comfortably while they figure out whatâs actually going on. Or, more precisely, who you really are.
It takes longer than they expect.
They ask you questions often. Not all at once, never pressing too hardâjust small things woven into the spaces between conversations. What do you like to eat. Do you go to school. What games you play.
They listen closely, like every answer matters more than it should, and you talk easily, swinging your legs where you sit, unaware of the weight your words carry.
Sometimes you talk about your family back thereâespecially your dad. About how he was already old, even when you were still a baby.
You repeat it the way Grandpa once said it, because thatâs how it stayed in your head. âDadâs stubborn,â you explain seriously. âA real rock-headed guy.â You nod to yourself, certain. âGrandpa said thatâs why he only had a kid when he was already old.â
âSo,â Dick says casually, âyou two close?â
You brighten at once. âUh-huh. Iâm close with everyone!â Then you add, just as easily, âDad says Iâm his favorite.â
Jason freezes.
Later, when the questions drift elsewhere and the room relaxes just a little, you lean back where youâre sitting, utterly comfortable. Safe. Loved. You donât see the way they watch you nowânot with suspicion, not exactly, but with something heavier.
âI never expect there a child like this to become a Wayne,â Stephanie says quietly, arms folded as she watches you from across the Cave. Her voice isnât unkindâjust baffled. âEspecially Jasonâs.â
Jason shoots her a look. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âItâs not an insult,â Tim cuts in quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. âItâs just⊠statistically improbable.â He glances at you again, thoughtful. âJason doesnât exactly scream domestic future with a kid whoâs this⊠comfortable. happy (??)â
âYeah,â Dick adds under his breath, lips twitching despite himself. âI was expecting brooding. Trauma. Maybe a tiny crowbar collection.â He pauses. âNot⊠this.â
You choose that moment to swing your legs and hum softly, perfectly at ease.
Cass tilts her head, eyes tracking you with quiet focus. âHappy,â she says simply.
Bruce looks at her, then back at you. Youâre leaning forward now, talking animatedly to Alfred about snacks, your earlier confidence fully returned. Whatever confusion lingers in the room, none of it seems to reach you.
âMaybe once in a thousand years,â Damian mutters, arms crossed. His tone is flat, but his eyes donât leave you. âAnd even then, unlikely.â
âAnd yet,â Alfred says gently, stepping closer with a tray you hadnât noticed before, âhere we are.â
Jason watches the exchange in silence, jaw set. The idea still sits wrong in his chestânot rejection, not exactly, but something closer to disorientation.
A child like you feels too sudden, too soft, like a future dropped into his hands without warning.
You, meanwhile, remain utterly unaware of the weight of it all. You move through the room with an ease born of safety, untouched by the sharp edges of the life they know so well. Comfortable. Trusting. Lovedâwithout ever having learned that love can be conditional.
_____________________________________
âWhy are you sleeping in my room?â Jason asks a few days in, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, confusion edged with irritation.
You blink up at him. âIâve never slept alone before,â you say softly. After a small pause, âI usually sleep with my dad.â Not a dad. Your dadâthe older Jason in the locket, the one with gray in his hair and a tired smile who always knew where you were at night.
Jason exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. âWhatever,â he mutters. âDo what you want. Iâm too tired for this.â
The words arenât cruel, but they land heavy anyway.
You remain standing in front of his door long after heâs turned away, uncertainty creeping in where certainty used to live.
The dad you know wouldâve sighed tooâbut he wouldâve pulled the blanket up around you afterward. This Jason feels⊠different. Louder. Sharper. Like a stranger wearing a familiar face.
A hand lands on your shoulder. You glance back, unsure, and see Damian behind you.
âWhy are you just standing there?â Damianâs voice cuts in, sudden. Heâs behind you, having noticed your stillness. âDid you forget which room you were using earlier?â
You shake your head slowly. âNo.â You hesitate, then lower your gaze. âIâm just⊠not used to sleeping alone. I usually sleep with my dad.â
Thereâs a beat of silence.
âYou donât have your own room there?â Damian asks, thereâwherever it is you came from.
âI did,â you say quietly. âGrandpa had it ready for me.â Your fingers curl into the fabric of your sleeve. âBut the night before I was supposed to sleep there, someone broke in. A thief.â You swallow. âThey destroyed everything in the room.â
Damianâs eyes flick, briefly, to Jasonâs door.
âSo after that,â you continue, voice small, âI kept sleeping with Dad.â
Damian stares at the door a second longer than necessary. A thief, he thinks flatly. Right.
He looks back at youâsmall, tired, standing outside Jasonâs room like itâs the last safe place you remember. And the thought settles in his chest, uncomfortable and sharp:
If you sleep near this Jason, youâll probably have more nightmares than comfort.
âSo youâre just not used to sleeping alone,â Damian says, after a moment. âYouâll have to get used to it. Slowly.â
He clears his throat. âCome on,â he adds, curt but not unkind. âIâll walk you back.â
You nod, a flicker of relief crossing your face as you follow him down the hallâleaving Jasonâs door closed behind you, and a future that still doesnât quite know where to place you.
'dad.. i want to go home..'
_____________________________________
In the dining room
You climb onto the chair right beside Jason and even scoot it closer, knees bumping his leg. âDad, Iâm eating too!â you announce, tugging lightly at his han, an unspoken signal youâve used a hundred times before.
âGo ahead,â Jason says, eyes still on his plate, tone flat like heâs talking to himself more than to you.
You pause. âDad usually⊠feeds me.â you say softly, not demandingâjust stating something that he always do.
He stiffens. âYou can eat on your own,â he says after a beat. âYou should try.â He doesnât look at you, and the space between you suddenly feels wider than the table itself. Itâs awkwardânew for both of you. Youâre a child from nowhere, and heâs a father by accident.
You slowly loosen your grip, your hand retreating back to your lap. ââŠOkay,â you mumble, the word small and heavy, like youâre not sure where to put it once it leaves your mouth.
âReader.â
You look up to find Tim sitting across the table, an empty chair between him and Duke. He taps the seat lightly, then hesitates, like heâs reconsidering the words even as he says them.
âOver here,â he offers, voice careful. âDo you⊠want Uncle to feed you?â The word uncle sounds unfamiliar to him, tested cautiously.
Your face brightens at once. âYes!â You slide off your chair and hurry over, ducking under the table to get to him faster, impatience outweighing any sense of dignity.
By the time you climb onto the seat beside him, youâre already smiling, relief settling in easily.
âHey, Uncle,â Stephanie cuts in from the side, leaning forward with a teasing grin. âI want some too.â
Tim groans, dropping his head briefly into his hand. âDonât start.â
âUncle,â she repeats, clearly enjoying it.
You giggle, already settled and content at Timâs side, attention fully claimed by the promise of food. Across the table, Jason watches with his fork paused mid-air, unsure why the sight of it all lands heavier in his chest than it should.
_____________________________________
Itâs been several days now since youâve been⊠stuck here.
âThey eat only when someone feeds them, sleep curled up against whoeverâs closest, wonât stay alone,â Damian says quietly, eyes fixed on you. âAre they really your kid, Todd?â
Jason snorts under his breath. âThatâs what Iâve been asking myself. How did I end up spoiling a kid this badly?â
Tim exhales, rubbing the back of his neck as he watches you. âAge, maybe,â he says after a moment. âOr⊠timing.â His voice drops. âHonestly, I never thought youâd have a kid at all. Let alone one like this.â
Their voices fade as their attention drifts to the couch.
Youâre asleep there now, small and slack with trust, curled up against someone without hesitation. Jason watches longer than he means to, something uneasy tightening in his chest. âItâs kind of a miracle,â he mutters, then scoffs quietly. âOr maybe a nightmare.â
Dick glances at him sharply. âDonât talk like that about your kid,â he says, low and firm. âTheyâre still little.â
Jason doesnât reply. His gaze stays on you, fixed and unblinking, heâs bracing himself for the moment he looks away and finds the couch empty.
_____________________________________
You tell them another story, the way you always doâlike itâs nothing important, just something that happened.
âBack then, when I woke up in the middle of the night,â you say, voice soft, âIâd go down to the Batcave to look for someone. Anyone.â You pause, remembering. âBut if it was really crowded, and you had friends over, You'd tell me to go back to my room.â
A few glances are exchanged.
âYou know,â you add helpfully, âsome of your friend i am not sure what's their name buat there are the loud ones. The ones with capes. Sometimes the red one. Sometimes the fast one. so manyâ
That earns a quiet reactionâsomeone clearing their throat, someone else going very still.
âBut sometimes,â you continue, brightening, âwhen I walk back alone, thereâs this really pretty green light.â You trace a lazy line in the air with your finger. âIt guides me all the way back to my room.â
ââŠGreen light?â Bruce murmurs.
âLantern,â another voice mutters under their breath.
You nod, satisfied. âYeah. That one I guess.â
Bruce studies you carefully. âDid you ever talk to them?â he asks.
You shake your head. âNo.â After a beat, you add, âIf they ever got close or even just looked at me, usually Uncle Damian or Uncle Tim would pick me up right away.â You lift your arms to demonstrate, like itâs a familiar routine. âThey always say, donât get close to weird people.â
The room goes quiet.
Weird people.
Someone exhales slowly. Because by every standard they live byâmasks, secrets, double livesâeveryone here is strange.
And yet, somehow, you had been kept apart from it all.
_____________________________________
ending.
Itâs been a few weeks since you ended up here, and the feeling has finally settled in. Not fear. Not confusion. Just a quiet, persistent ache. You miss home. You miss the family you know. More than anything, you miss your dad.
You and Damian are sitting in the living room. Everyone else is goneâpatrols, errands, the kind of adult business that makes the house feel too big and too empty. Only Alfred remains somewhere deeper in the Manor, footsteps distant and soft, and Damian, who has been firmly volunteered to keep you company.
The silence stretches between you. Not sharp, not tenseâjust heavy. You curl your knees up to your chest on the oversized armchair, swallowed by cushions, feeling smaller than usual in the wide, quiet room.
âYou know, Uncle Damian,â you say at last, breaking the quiet. Your voice is softer now, stripped of its usual brightness. âBack home, whenever Dad goes away for a few days⊠I always wait in the living room in the afternoon.â
You stare at nothing in particular as you speak. âSo when I hear his motorcycle, I can run straight to the door. That way, the moment he opens it, Iâm already there.â Your fingers tighten around your sleeves. âI hug him right away.â
Damian glances at you from the opposite couch, posture rigid, hands folded neatly like he doesnât know what to do with them. ââŠYou miss your father,â he says, more statement than question.
You look at him then, eyes glossy, tears trembling but not falling yet. You nod. âI want my dadâŠâ
Damian stands abruptly, the movement sharp and too loud in the quiet room. âIâll call Toddââ he says, defaulting to action, solutions, something he knows how to do.
âNo!â The word tears out of you before you can stop it. You lunge forward, fingers catching his sleeve, clutching it. You shake your head hard, until your vision blurs and the room tilts.
He freezes completely, caught mid-step. âBut you just saidââ
âNot him,â you whisper, your grip loosening as you pull your hand back, swiping at your face with the back of your wrist.
Your voice breaks, splintering under the weight youâve been holding in for weeks. âNot this him.â You swallow, breath hitching. âI want my dad. The one I know. I want to go home.â
For a moment, Damian looks utterly lost, caught between logic and something he was never trained to handle.
Then, slowly, he sits back down. Not across from you this time, but beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost touch. He doesnât say anything. He doesnât try to fix it.
He just stays.
And for now, thatâs all you have.
_____________________________________
Meanwhile, in your original timeline, Gotham was in chaos.
The Bats hadn't stopped searching, not for a single moment. Day bled into night and back into day again in an endless cycle of desperate hunting.
Oracle's systems ran hot, every camera, every satellite, every piece of surveillance equipment in Gotham turned toward one purpose: find Reader.
The city felt it.
Crime spiked, then vanished entirely in some districts, thugs too afraid to move, others reckless enough to test their luck. Rooftops were never empty. Shadows moved constantly. Gotham knew something was wrong, even if it didnât know what.
Tim hadnât left the Batcomputer in over thirty hours. His eyes were bloodshot, fingers flying across the keys with manic precision as he ran algorithm after algorithm, refusing to accept the results.
Barbara worked beside him, her own exhaustion visible in the tightness of her jaw, but neither of them slowed.
âIâm running every scan we have,â Barbara said, voice hoarse. âEvery pattern, every anomaly. If thereâs a traceâanythingâweâll find it.â
But it was Jason who turned the streets into something else entirely.
He tore through Gotham like a storm with nowhere to break. Every alley, every warehouse, every forgotten corner of the city was searched, then searched again.
Informants talked not because they were paid, but because they were afraid. Doors opened when he knocked. Walls came down when they didnât.
Because a child was missing.
Jasonâs child was missing.
A Wayne was missing.
And every hour without answers fed the worst kind of imaginationâthe kind that fills the silence with things no one wanted to name.
Were you hurt. Were you scared. Were you calling for him somewhere he couldnât hear.
No. They couldnât think like that. Wouldnât.
"Oracle, talk to me," Jason's voice crackled over the comms, rough and desperate. "Anything. Please."
Barbara's hands stilled over the keyboard for just a moment, her jaw clenching. "Jason, I'm trying. I'mâwe're doing everything we can."
"It's not enough!" The sound of something shattering came through the comm, Jason's fist through a wall, maybe, or something worse. "It's been hours and we have nothing. No body, no ransom, no traceâwhere the hell is my kid?!"
"We'll find them," Dick's voice cut in, firm despite the strain underneath. "Jason, we will find them. But you need toâ"
"Don't tell me what I need to do, Grayson. Don't you dare." Jason's breathing was ragged. "That's my kid out there. Mine. And IâI should have been there. I should haveâ"
"Jasonâ"
The comm cut off abruptly.
Back in the Batcave, Tim's eyes burned as he stared at the screens, at the maps with their shrinking search radius, at the temporal analysis that made less and less sense the more he looked at it.
"Come on," he whispered to himself, to the universe, to whatever force had taken you. "Just... give us something. One answer. Please. Are they alive? Are they safe? Justâpleaseâ"
The Batcomputer beeped. Another dead end.
Tim's fist slammed down on the console.
And somewhere in the Manor above, Bruce stood in Your empty bedroom, holding a small stuffed animal that had been left on the bed, and allowed himself one momentâjust oneâto close his eyes and pray.
synopsis: Bruce was no stranger to taking in kids and raising them as his own, but this one was different. It was biologically his. He expected the child to bond with Dick more (because let's be honest, he could be kind if he wanted), but not Jason. Never Jason.
The rumor spread fast. Gotham had a new Wayne. It wasnât unheard of, Bruce adopting another child was practically a yearly headline, but this one wasnât adopted. This time, the kid was his.
His biological son.
A toddler. Barely two.
Jason wasnât supposed to care. He really wasnât. But after three texts from Dick, a phone call from Alfred, and a voicemail from Bruce himself asking him to âcome by if you have time,â he was curious enough to drag himself to the manor.
The house felt the same: cold but familiar. The kind of silence that made you feel small. Except this time, the silence was broken by the sound of soft sniffles echoing from the sitting room. Stepping inside, Jason found Bruce, seated on one of those massive armchairs like a painting come to life, and, on his lap, sat a tiny boy.
The kid was cute in that fragile way newborns were: delicate wrists, long lashes, rosy cheeks that still had the fullness of babyhood, but instead of wonder in his eyes, there was fear. He flinched at the smallest sounds. The tick of the clock, the creak of floorboards, even Tim whispering softly to Alfred made him whimper and hide his face in Bruce's suit jacket. Damian stood in the corner, arms crossed, glaring like the toddler had personally offended him.
Jason leaned against the doorframe. âSo the rumors are true.â
Bruce looked up, shoulders tensing. âJason.â
âRelax, B,â He said, holding up his hands. âI didn't come here to fight.â He gave a low whistle, eyes flicking between the billionaire and the trembling bundle in his lap. âBut I will say I'm surprised. Didnât think you had it in you to make another one. Whatâs his story?â
Bruce exhaled, slow and heavy, the kind of sound that already carried too many sleepless nights behind it. His gaze fell to the little boyâwho clung to him tighter as if he understood he was being talked aboutâand something in Bruceâs expression cracked.
âHe was left here.â
Jason frowned. âLeft. What do you mean, left?â
Bruceâs tone was low, steady, but there was a tremor beneath it: anger, regret, maybe both. âShe showed up three nights ago. Came right to the gate.â He paused, eyes unfocused as if still seeing it. âShe had him in her arms. No car seat. No bag. Just him. She said it was mine.â
Jason blinked. âAnd you just believed her?â
âShe gave me the DNA test that confirms he's mine. After that, she handed me his birth certificate and..." He trailed off, eyes hardening. "Told me if I didn't want him, she'd 'let the system deal with it.' Her words, not mine.â
Jason looked at the kid properly then. And yeah, he could see it now. Underneath the cute cheeks and soft curls, the boy looked worn. There were faint bruises along his arms, the kind you got when you were grabbed too hard. His hair was uneven, like someone had cut it in a hurry. His eyesâthose big, dark eyesâwere dull in a way no toddlerâs should be.
âChrist, BâŠâ Jason muttered, disbelief flickering to disgust. âHe looks like heâs been through hell.â
Bruce didnât disagree. He adjusted his hold, careful not to jostle the child, who whimpered when the fabric shifted. âThe doctor said heâs underweight. Mild dehydration. Nothing permanent, butâhe doesnât like noise, or touch. And he doesnât speak. They think he mightâve stopped trying to because no one ever answered him.â
Jasonâs chest tightened. âHow old is he?â
âTwo and a half,â Bruce murmured. âHis nameâs Y/N. I donât know if she gave it to him or if it was something a nurse chose.â
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the faint ticking of the clock. Y/N peeked up from Bruceâs jacket, eyes darting warily toward Jason.
Seeing this, Jason crouched down, resting his arms on his knees. âHey, kiddo,â he said, voice gentler than anyone in the room expected. âYou gonna keep hidinâ in there forever, or you gonna say hi?â
Y/N blinked at him. His little chest rose and fell fast, uncertain, but when Jason gave a small, exaggerated wink, something flickered behind those tired eyes. A spark. Jason smiled faintly. âYeah, thatâs it. I see you.â
And then, out of nowhere, a tiny giggle.
Everyone froze.
Tim looked up from the corner of the couch. âDid heâ?â
âYes, Master Timothy,â Alfred said softly, wonder slipping through his composure. âHe did.â
Y/N giggled again, like the sound surprised him, too. Then, to everyoneâs shock, he reached out, small hands stretching toward Jason.
Jason blinked, then chuckled. âWell, canât say no to that.â He moved closer, slow, like approaching a wild animal, and let the boy grab at his jacket sleeve. Y/N's fingers curled around the leather, knuckles still pale, but his breathing steadied. He tugged, weak but determined, until Jason was close enough to touch.
Damian scowled. âClearly, he has no taste.â
Jason shot him a look. âDonât be jealous, demon spawn.â
âWhy would I be jealous of aââ
âDamian,â Bruce interrupted before the bickering could start, still watching the toddler with wide eyes. âHe likes you.â
Jason glanced down at the kid still tugging curiously at his jacket zipper. âYeah, Iâm getting that impression.â
The little boy laughed again when Jason exaggeratedly tugged the zipper up and down, making a âvroooomâ sound. Soon, the boy was giggling so hard he had to hide his face in Jasonâs chest. And just like that Jason was done for. From that day forward, the toddler followed him like a shadow.
If Jason sat on the couch, there he was, crawling up beside him.
If Jason tried to leave the room, tiny footsteps trailed behind.
If Jason disappeared for more than a minute, thereâd be little sniffles echoing through the hall until he came back.
Jason swore he wasnât good with kids. He wasnât soft, not like Dick or Alfred. But every time the little guy hid behind his jacket when strangers came around, or reached up for him to carry him instead of Bruce. Jason couldnât say no. Everyone noticed this, but that didn't mean they approved.
âJason,â Dick said one morning, watching as the boy waddled across the living room straight to Jasonâs lap, ignoring everyone else. âYouâre good with him, but maybe donât encourage too much attachment.â
Jasonâs smile dropped. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âHe needs stability,â Tim added carefully. âAnd youââ
âAre what? The screw-up? The âbad influenceâ?â Jasonâs tone sharpened. âY/N's not scared of me. Heâs scared of everything else. That kid flinches when someone raises their voice or moves too fast. You think me hanging out with himâs the problem?â
Damian, ever blunt, muttered, âHe shouldnât get used to people who might leave.â
Jason turned, jaw tight. âI ainât leaving."
Dickâs expression softened, but his voice stayed careful, the kind that made Jason want to throw something at him. âWeâre not saying youâd do it on purpose, Jay. But you know how it goes. Youâve got your own life, and Bruceââ
ââcan barely keep up with one kid, much less five,â Jason snapped. âYeah, I know. Believe me, I remember.â
Tim flinched. Damian frowned, about to say something sharp, but one small sound cut through the tension like a knife: a quiet whimper.
The boy had pressed his face into Jasonâs shirt, tiny fingers fisting the fabric. Jasonâs anger melted instantly. He shifted the kid higher into his arms, murmuring, âHey, hey. Itâs okay, little man. Iâm not mad.â
âJayâŠâ Dick sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. âWeâre just worried about him.â
âThen be worried about the right things,â Jason said, voice low now. âHe doesnât talk much. He doesnât laugh unless Iâm around. You donât see the way he shuts down when people get too close. He needs someone who wonât scare him off just by existing.â
Done with this conversation, Jason stood up with Y/N in his arms and began to walk in the direction of the kitchen. He didnât need to look back to know the others were staring: Tim with that furrowed brow like he wanted to apologize but didnât know how, Dick chewing on guilt, Damian pretending not to care but clearly affected.
In the kitchen, the air was quieter. Alfred glanced up from the stove, calm as ever. âArgument, Master Jason?â
Jason huffed a humorless laugh, settling the kid on his hip as he opened the fridge one handed. âYou could say that.â
âAh.â Alfred didnât press. He rarely needed to. âWould the young master care for some warm milk?â
Jason looked down at the boy, who was still half hiding in his jacket. âYou want that, kiddo?â The toddler peeked up, gave the smallest nod, and whispered yes. Something in Jasonâs chest went soft and tight all at once. âYou got it, champ.â
Alfredâs eyes warmed, though he kept his expression composed as he poured milk into a small cup. âHeâs quite attached to you.â
Jason leaned back against the counter, bouncing the kid gently in his arms. âYeah, I noticed. Guess I donât exactly mind.â
âNor should you,â Alfred said, handing over the cup. âChildren often know far better than adults whom they can trust.â
Jason gave a small, crooked smile. âYou saying Iâm trustworthy, Alfred?â
âIâm saying,â Alfred replied, with that dry fondness only he could manage, âthat perhaps Master Bruce isnât the only one capable of fatherly instincts.â
Jason nearly choked on a laugh. âFatherly? Me?â
But then the toddler reached up, tiny fingers brushing against Jasonâs jaw, smiling sleepily as he sipped his milk. The laugh faded, replaced by a look he didnât let anyone seeâsomething gentle, almost protective. âYeah, well,â he murmured. âGuess thereâs a first time for everything.â
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pairing: superfamily ( clark, lois, jon ) x unintentionally neglected! gn! eldest child! reader
gifted with kryptonian genes from birth, you are blessed with superhuman abilities powered by the sun. but it just came too late. It doesn't matter anymore, does it?
no one will care, Y/N.
cw: typical neglected reader stuff / cussing and stuff / use of Y/N in the last POV / jon being weirdly attached to the reader, but nothing full-blown yandere yet
a/n: I was planning on making the first post a standalone concept, but yknow what? since people liked it so much, I couldn't just let the people starve!! this fic is more chill than anything since I'm still thinking of where this story would go but yeaaahhh
The days leading up to you moving, you've been feeling... weird.
A slow throbbing in your stomachânot quite a stomachache, definitely not bad enough to be worrying, but enough to be annoying. Your head is constantly pounding, not quite a headache, but more like something akin to someone constantly tapping from the inside of your skull. And, of course, pain in your joints. You're not old, it's more like the kind of pain you'd get if you stay in the same position for too long, when your muscles beg you to stretch and move.
But, really, these are nothing you've never experienced before. You simply brushed them off to the usual symptoms you'd get from lack of sleepâyou did pull several consecutive all-nighters the past few nights due to exams.
But exams are over!
The last thing on your listâmoving outâwas checked off just a few minutes ago. You've just finished moving all the boxes inside your new, and honestly quite spacious, apartment.
A fresh start, and after you set some things up and decorate some part of the apartment, your precious bed will be waiting for you, and you will finally get those well-deserved sleeps for the rest of the summer break.
Ah, home sweet home.
You spoke too soon.
The next few days, you're busy with renovating the apartment (and by renovating, you really meant simply decorating the place to liven it up) and going out to explore around your new neighborhood, taking notes of all the nearby cozy-looking cafes and the library just a few blocks away. Yeah, you're gonna be using those a lot for study sessions.
Which would've been fine and all, if not for the fact that right now, you're stuck in some random supermarket while shopping for some groceries to stuff in your fridge, because some random criminals are holding everyone in this damn place hostage while they rob the shit out of the cashier... or something.
They're not even scary... â You gulp to yourself awkwardly, looking at the cheap gun in one of the thugs' hands.
Maybe it's the fact that you grew up seeing your dad bench press a kaiju every other Saturday, along with lately also having your younger brother running through walls all by accidentâit's all just kind of... normal.
And then you gulp again, because despite that fact, you have to remind yourself that you are not Superman. Your skin definitely isn't bulletproof.
You stand behind one of the shelves, where those dumb robbers aren't even paying attention to. What are you doing? Uh, busy deciding between two products, actually.
Corn Flakes or Corn Flakes Strawberry Flavour...
This is a very important question, okay? Your budget's a bit limited, you already got all the fresh ingredients you needed in the basket in your arm, and you're now going to indulge yourself in some unhealthy stuff for the next few breakfasts that are to come.
"Hey, you over there! Get the fuck down!"
One of the robbers screamed at you, pointing his gun at you and drawing literally everyone's attention to you. Some random young adult who's literally trying to make the hardest decision of their life.
"Aigh!" You just grumbled out loudly, swatting your arm at the guy to tell him to shut the fuck up for a moment. You're a bit busy here! Are they fucking blind or what?
This particular robber was too dumb to notice your sour mood, though, so, like the dumb little thing he is, he continues to yell at you.
"Are you fucking deaf or what? I said get the fuck dowâ"
"Bro, leave me the fuck alone!"
You shouted back, the way your voice boomed and echoed throughout the supermarket scared the shit out of everyone, but definitely not as much as when you pointed at the group of robbers in rage, and something just... goes off.
A deafening boom rang through the supermarket, and could probably be heard outside as well. Light exploded from the tip of your fingers, but surprisingly, your eyes... aren't really affected?
Your eyes are still wide open, some weird colours dancing in them, but mostly fine, as the light dies down, and wow, that felt so... good. Refreshed, like you've just taken a bath in a hot spring and slept for ten hours straight, uninterrupted. The annoying hum inside your skull and the throb in your stomach are gone.
Oh, also, there's now a crater in the middle of the supermarket.
You look around in panic, making sure nobody is hurt and that you're not going to accidentally become a criminal, only to notice that everyone is out cold.
Oh.
You did flashbang everyone.
Not dealing with this, ohhh nah.
You gulp for the third time today, quickly taking the basket in your hand and skedaddling out of that fucking place.
...Only for you to slowly slide back in and place the correct amount of cash at the register. Papa ain't raise no bitch, okay? You're a good citizen and will continue to be, even if you just accidentally knocked out like thirty people.
At least nobody died, and the CCTV was already out because the robbers were at least smart enough to mess with it. Heh.
Okay, what the fuck was that.
You're now back at your apartment, the lights in your room aren't even turned on as you sit in the middle of your bed, elbows on your knees and hands in your hair.
Seriously, what was that? You were just annoyed, you didn't mean to blast anyone's shit into next weekâhell, you didn't even know you could do that!
Your eyes zeroed in on your own wrist, or more specifically, the faint lines of your veins under the skin.
Kryptonian blood runs through you.
Fuck it. Fuck this.
You've long come to the conclusion that you'll never be anything special, that you're just going to be another face in the crowd, that you won't be blessed with all those cool things your father and younger brother have.
You are powerlessâyou're not even strong the way your mother is.
But Kryptonians couldn't do that.
Your ever-so-kind father had sent you a full PDF document file when you asked him about Kryptonians. Perhaps that was partially your fault for shooting him ten questions under five seconds, like you were the one who was a professional nosy journalist interviewing Supermanâ okay, but you did read through those documents.
Kryptonians store solar energy in their cells to later convert them into power.
Raw power, not fucking magic.
Is this my call to be a magician or what? You joked to yourself to lighten up the mood, but it didn't really help. You're too stressed out thinking about... this.
But honestly, you're glad that you did whatever that was, because all those annoying symptoms that you thought were from lack of sleep went away completely.
...Can Kryptonian cells become "too full"? Like, y'know, that feeling when you feel like you're going to explode when you eat too much. Is that what was happening? Because your cells were too full so they were torturing you for it? How were you even supposed to know?!?!?
...Whatever.
You've accepted at the ripe age of fifteen that you're going to live your life like some background character. You're going to go on about your day for the rest of your life like a normal personâget into law school, tire yourself out until you're dying, then if all thing fails, you're probably going to work some mundane 9-5 job until retirement.
Depressive, but simple.
You did not account for juggling university life while having powers.
You aren't going to become a superhero, holy shit, you aren't built for that! This is your power, your responsibility, anyway. No one can tell you what to do with it.
And it's not like you're going to become some big bad villain either. Surely, no one is going to be mad if you just... continue living your mundane life, only now with powers, right?
Right.
Okay, but first, what can you even do?
To be honest, you wished that instead of solar power, you would've gotten something electric-related.
Is it just so you could freely charge your phone without having to pay the electric bills? Oh, hell yeah. Your ass is not rich enough to install a solar charger on anything.
Or... wait.
You put your index finger up and focus... or tried to. You tried to redo what you did in the supermarket, only this time on a much smaller scale, and making sure that it wouldn't explode.
Slowly but surely, after making yourself feel like a lunatic with schizophrenia, a small sphere of light slowly conjures up from the tip of your finger, and you let it illuminate the room before leaving it to float freely on the ceiling.
You assumed it'd last for a pretty long while...
Yeah, I can still save the electric bills this way.
No more turning on the light bulbs, you need the money for so many other things.
Holy shit, you can buy both flavours of the cornflakes now. Oh, hell yeah.
You spent the next few days all holed up in your room, too caught up in decorating your new apartment, until you woke up this morning feeling like absolute shit.
You completely forgot that Kryptonians' cells feed on sunlight, and after continuously using your power as a light source for days on top of blasting the supermarket to shit a week prior, you were drained.
Your mother had always teased you about your sugar addiction for that.
Your mother...
It's a bit weird, sometimes, living on your own now. Usually, you would visit the cafe near your home with either your father or your mother, or both. Later on, it's always with Jon, because he loves begging you to buy him the many pastries sitting on the display glass.
You started going alone after Jon got his powers, because he and your father were too busy flying around in the sky, and your mother kept being busy with work. Still, your mother tried to find time to go with you back then, but that ceased entirely when you assured her to focus on her work first.
You're getting used to the silence, you think.
Your stomach feels full as you sip the last few remaining liquid in the cup, your cells sharing the same pleasantly full feeling after you've been sitting in the same spot for an hour.
The first night that you discover your power, your finger hovered over your phone for far too long.
Over your father's contact.
But you decided otherwise, exiting the phone call app and shutting it off.
It's too late. Nobody cares. You know your father is out there with Jon, probably with other superheroes, and discussing their plan to stop another world-ending threatâanother adventure.
You aren't needed. You can figure this out on your own. You're an adult now.
..But what are you going to do next, exactly?
"...Dad?"
Jon mumbled, tugging at his dad's sleeve as they stood in front of the entrance of his school. He had been going to this school since the start of his elementary school, but this is the first time he's not excited for it.
The thought of getting to hang out with his friends and having fun at school is all muddied and murkyâdampened by a change in his life. A change too huge for his ten-year-old brain to keep up.
His sibling had moved out since last week, but his mood hadn't really lightened up.
He's still not used to sleeping alone. Or the fact that his sibling's room is now empty, devoid of their scentâthat unique, flowery smell of perfume you loved.
"Yes, champ?"
Clark's voice was a deep and gentle thing, like a bird's soft coo to Jon's ears as the older man crouched down to his knee in front of his son.
"Will..." Jon trailed off, his lips pressed into a thin line. Hesitant, but he knew he couldn't stay silent anymore. "Will big sib come back?"
Clark frowned, a sad look on his face as his eyes softened at how upset his son looked.
The house has been oddly quiet and empty since Y/N, their eldest child, had moved out. Jon, the youngest of the house, was affected the most.
Even when going out on adventures with his father as Superboy, he just wasn't as happy as before.
"Big sib is busy with university and studying," Clark reasoned, although his voice was anything but cold. "Don't worry, we'll visit when we have time. For now, you focus on school. Big sib would be mad if you don't."
Clark reassured his son, petting Jon on the head as the young boy nodded slowly, slowly turning around to enter his school.
Yeah, it's going to be a bit rough for the next few months.
"And where are you going, young man?"
Later that night, as they were about to head home, Clark had to hold his son back by the cape as Jon was about to speed off to God knows where.
The young boy only huffed in frustration, trying to tear the cape out of his father's hand.
"Ughâ Let go!" He yelled, uncharacteristically so. "I want to go to Y/N! They're not far! I just want toâ"
Clark's eyes softened as Jon's voice broke into a small sob, curling into a tight ball in the air. Both of them are high above the skyline, Clark's posture stiff and graceful, while Jon is anything but that.
"I want toâ I just want to go see Y/N.." Jon mumbled, fat tears rolling down his cheeks uncontrollably.
He's attached, and he knows that. He's been with you all his life. For all his ten years of living, he had always remembered being attached to their hip since he was a toddler.
Being away from them without knowing when he'll see them againâit hurts. It makes him want to sob and throw a tantrumâall because his stupid dad won't let him go visit them. He's a big boy now! He's gonna be okay! Y/N's not far, he'll be fine!
...But he also knows his dad isn't in the wrong, and that he's too young to go anywhere on his own.
Especially if he's going to bother his sibling.
Bother? No, no! He's not a bother, is he? Definitely not, you wouldn't think of him like that. He knows you wouldn'tâyou love him just as much as he loves you!
Clark's heart squeezes at the sight of his son curled up into a tight ball in the air, tears soaking the jeans of his pants as he floats closer to the young boy. His arms wrapped securely around Jon, pulling the young boy closer until he was pressed against his sturdy, muscular frame.
"Soon, Jon. We'll see them soon."
The house has been cold and empty, devoid of the most important person in the family for a week too long.
You're too far away from your family.
He'll see you soon.
a/n: never let me cook again what is this.. also lois will be more relavant soon trust.. gulps / the part where y/n yelled "leave me the fuck alone" in the supermarket was inspired by this audio from tiktok:
summary : his kid got reincarnated as his vessel's younger sister.
it was only out of curiosity and whim.
being the king of curses, sukuna was already used of humans fearing him. but during that one time as he finished massacring a whole village. he heard a cry from one of the house.
out of curiosity, he entered the house and saw a child in a crib. probably looking for her mother whom sukuna had already killed.
and much to his own surprise, when the child saw him. she didn't cry. instead, she held out her arms. as if asking to be held.
it should've disgusted him- offended him. but before he could even think, he had already left the village while carrying a kid on his arms.
what did he saw in you? you are just a human, a lesser fragile creature that would die with just a flick of his finger. but as you grew up, he found himself becoming more and more overprotective of you.
being a child who got the attention of the king of curses himself was hard. because you were targeted by both the curses and sorcerers alike.
because of that annoying nagging voice behind his ears. sukuna had no choice but to lock you up on his palace with uraume guarding you. don't complain. he'll buy you whatever you want so stay put if you don't want to make him angry.
despite being a violent creature like himself. sukuna was a good father to you (surprisingly). though, he had no idea on how to take care of a child (uraume helped him with that) he was able to fulfill the other things such as protecting and providing for you.
when sukuna get angry with you- just like one time you decided to leave his palace out of curiosity. he didn't got violent just like how people had described him. instead, he gave you a much cruel punishment.
it was silence. he locked you up in your room, without seeing you, until you almost lost your mind. he only called off the punishment when you were so close on losing your mind.
after that, he watched you cry on his arms with a satisfied gleam on his eyes. he likes that kind of look- your desperation and your dependence on him. it was something sukuna lived for.
fast-forward, that time when he got fucked up by those sorcerers.
the only reason why they were able to get him was because they used you. while he was away, they took you from uraume and locked you up to a place where no one could see you.
you hated dark places. you hated the place where sukuna and uraume wasn't there with you. you spent the whole time crying and calling for him. but he didn't came.
instead, the sorcerers who is behind this mess spent the whole time poisoning your mind. saying that your father, sukuna will never come to save you.
you kept saying that they were wrong. but there is this traitorous part of your mind that telling you- what if they were right? what if your father had forgotten you? what if he got tired of you?
but the next day, you were awoken by that loud explosion coming from above the prison where they locked you up. the guards were panicking even those sorcerers. saying that sukuna had finally arrived. and he is- really angry.
out of panic or carelessness. one of the guards left your cell opened and you used that chance to escape. you ran away- not caring about the voices behind you.
then you found your father, fighting countless men. he was being overpowered. and as one of the sorcerers was about to plunge him with a sword.
your small body shielded him.
everyone stopped and so is sukuna. the only thing he remembered was how your small body fell, coughing blood, and kept on apologizing to him.
this is one of the reason why he hated humans- especially you. they were fragile, hardheaded and weak.
sukuna didn't care anymore as he held your body tight. as time passes by, your tiny body who was full of warmth before slowly becoming still and cold.
and the next thing he knew was he was already standing on the top of a rooftop. thousand years had already passed. and yuuji had already became his vessel.
he just boredly watched his vessel's life as he interacted with those teacher and classmates of his.
he only stopped when yuuji visited his younger sister one time. and he saw you- no, it wasn't you but still you. different eye color, and this time your hair was pink.
your personality and behavior was still the same.
he was subtle at first. he spent a huge amount of time to get close with you. but as time passes by, yuuji noticed that something was odd with his behavior.
fucking sharp kid.
and during those time, yuuji refused to let sukuna take over his body whenever you were around. fearing that sukuna might hurt you.
but little did he know, that was the last thing sukuna will do. after all, he just want one simple thing.
and that is to be your guardian again, then hide you where no one will be able to find you.
because sukuna rather die than seeing you die in front of him again.
" this time, i won't just kill the world to keep you safe; i will hide you so deeply within it that even death won't be able to find you. "
âNew Parents: How to take care of your toddler.â Bruce stared at the book with slight suspicion. Would this one be good? It is not like he is a new parent, but he never had a toddler either. His hands came to his hair, pushing it back and looked at the child sleeping peacefully beside him. It has been three days since your rescue. The progress with Y/N was still slow, but at least the child slept and ate without problems now.Â
âY/N darling, it's time to wake up. Alfie has your breakfast ready.â- Bruce said, carefully nudging your body to wake you up. Slowly opening their eyes, the toddler looked at him wide eyed, though they didn't try to run away from Bruce this time.
Picking up the child with care, after all their wounds weren't healed yet, he brought the child closer to him. His thumbs came to clean the corner of the toddler's eyes and caressing their cheek after. After helping you with the morning hygiene, Bruce came downstairs with you in his arms, the rest of his children already at the table.Â
âLittle wing.â- Dick picked you up from Bruce's hold, his hand under your armpits. Holding his laugh at your stiff posture like a feral kitty, your eyes looking for your dad, the oldest smudged his cheek against your in a clumsy hug.- âGood morning.â
âTsk, you are scaring my sibling with all that ruckus, Grayson.â
âCmon Dames, no need to be jealous I can hug you too.â
Sighing at his kids' energy too early in the morning Bruce looked at you again, your eyes traveling between the other two banter until your eyes came back to him. Looking wide eyed, it was as if there was a sign on your forehead saying âRescue meâ, taking a small chuckle from your father, who took you back into his arms and sat with you on your lap.
âSoft scrambled eggs for the young master.â- Alfred said as he put your plate beside Bruce's one.
âThank you, Alfred.â
Despite having his plate ready, Bruce didn't eat, instead he was too focused on feeding you. The whole table turned silent in a matter of seconds, as your siblings stared at you.
âCuteâŠâ- Cass murmured at the sight of the child's small bites at the fork.
The amount of eyes on you made you shift uncomfortably in your fathers lap, your sibling noticing it started to pretend they weren't looking and soon the silence was replaced by conversation, yet their eyes occasionally found you again.
For the last three days, your siblings and Alfred had taken upon themselves to change a few things throughout the manor. Everything that could be deemed to hurt you was either hidden or moved to a place you little hands couldn't reach. The floor? Cushioned. Edges? It had been covered by a rubber protector. The couches were filled with toys and the kitchen had a new stock of healthy yet tasty snacks for toddlers.Â
âY/N?â- Tim was the one to call and the child looked at him, chewing another spoon bite of their breakfast. Bringing himself closer, Tim held a bunny doll, its fur black with blue beads for its eyes and offered it to the child, who seemed hesitant to pick it up.- âIt's yours, Mama had brought it for you before.â
The child extended their arms to the doll and Tim pushed it slowly towards the child, afraid of scaring his little sibling. Closing your little arms around the doll, the family almost stopped breathing when you hugged the bunny, being that the first time you accepted something from the family, though they weren't ready for what came next.Â
âMoâŠmmy.â
The voice came out low, staggering through the letters. Adorable.Â
Bruce felt his fingers tremble as he brought his child closer to his chest.
âThatâs right, it was mom. Do you remember her?â- Tim asked, but this time you didn't answer. It seems you didn't know how to talk properly yet, aside from the mom word. But that's alright, just hearing your cute voice once was enough for the day.
The rest of the breakfast was quiet, the family occasionally checking on you. As much as it hurt Bruce to be away, he had to go to WE having spent the last three days without working and just bonding with you. At least, he knew Alfred would take good care of you.
Tim was in the kitchen, filling his cup of coffee, Damian and Duke had gone to school, and him deciding to miss the day, stayed behind at the manor to work in some cases. Yet he couldn't concentrate, the small shadow following him around.
âTheyâre looking at me again, aren't they Alfie?â- The older man looked and behind one of the pillars of the mansion was you looking at Drake, slight suspicion filled your glare.
âYes they are.â- The butler chuckled at the sight.
âDid I do something wrong?â- Tim asked, worried about the sudden demeanour of the child.
âI doubt it, young master Tim.â- Tidying the kitchen, Alfred took one more look at the toddler.- âI suppose they want to get closer. You know, from everybody in this manor you, Cass and master Bruce are the calmest ones, although it might not seem much to you, is like a safe haven from someone who suffered so much.â
Seeing from the new perspective, Tim thought about the first time he saw you, wounded, afraid and scared. Too small and too adorable for his heart to hold on. Looking at you again, hiding behind the pillar, he picked a few of the cookies Alfred had baked this morning and walked towards you, holding his laugh as you noticed you weren't exactly good at concealing your presence.
âYou want one?â- He held out the cookie, biting one himself to show you it was safe. Instead of picking one, you bite the one he had already bit. He felt his heart melt at the sight of your eyes lighting up at the chocolate. So absorbed by the taste of it, you didn't even notice when your older brother picked you up, his arm steady under your knees, bringing you with him towards the cave. He sat down and started working on the files. After a few minutes of munching the cookies, he felt your body relax and looking down, he noticed you had slept curled against his lap. Alfred looked with an amused smile at the sight, barely three days and you already had everyone wrapped around your little fingers.Â