Family Issues
summary : Bruce Wayne always imagined what it would be like if one of his children's biological parents would try to take them back. He just didn't think one of them would be Tony Stark.
word count : 0.8k
type : imagines
pairing/s involved : Bruce Wayne x Adopted! Reader, Tony Stark x Biological! Reader
warning/s : none.
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Bruce Wayne stalked you before he adopted you.
The perfect start for a heartwarming father-child tale.
You were just a feral raccoon on Gotham's streets, pickpocketing to live another day but with style.
Because unlike the average street rat, you were apparently a tech genius with pocket-sized armory, and zero regard for safety or legal patents.
OSHA violations? You were the OSHA violation.
Bruce noticed immediately.
He has radar for troubled orphans with violent hobbies.
Especially the ones who built an illegal lab out of garbage in an abandoned building like it was a goddamn science fair.
You tried to be sneaky with the voice modulator and suit disguise.
But the man's adopted enough traumatized kids to know exactly how tall you are, your likely BMI, and how old you probably act after trauma number twenty-seven.
Besides, if your tech landed in the wrong hands? Yikes.
Better Bruce's creepy parent surveillance than Joker's Saturday night plans.
"Wow, lucky me. Gotham's brooding bat takes an interest. You got a thing for orphans or what?"
"I am one."
"Oh shit. Sorry."
You got scooped up into the Wayne's Disaster Shelter.
Dick was overjoyed (as usual).
Jason bro-fisted you and said, "Street rat survival team, assemble!"
Tim adored the free nerd competition.
You bribed Cass with sign language and helped Damian upgrade his murder gadgets (Bruce: "Only non-lethal, I swear to God.").
Alfred loved you like his own but also wanted to strangle you every time you exploded something in the manor and then politely help clean it up with tea and cookies.
And Bruce? Legally your father now.
For security reasons, of course. And emotional ones he won’t admit because he's made entirely of shadows and bad coping skills.
But then Tony Stark happened.
Gala Night: Rich People Pretend They Care™.
Bruce in full playboy mode. Tony in full party gremlin one. The Bat kids hiding in various corners eating free shrimp.
Tony meets you. Calls you Wayne’s "newest collectible action figure."
Ha ha.
But then you banter back. Same sarcasm. Same smugness. Same self-sabotaging charm. Tony froze. Not funny anymore.
Bruce’s eye twitches every time Tony breathes near you.
You both have the same mannerisms. The same smart-ass grin. The same way of dodging personal questions like Olympic champions of emotional deflection.
Tony knew. Deep in his drunken, guilty billionaire gut: Oh no. Mine.
Cue late-night JARVIS hacking montage.
Files, orphanage records, street crime reports, horrifying childhood summaries that feel like Tony's cave trauma but worse.
Built a secret scrap lab like a teenage Iron Man Jr. School genius. Criminal record. Charmer of the press. Tactical flirting. Oh God they’re actually mine.
The guilt spiral became worse. "My maybe kid became Gotham’s feral tech goblin because I wasn’t there. Holy shit, I suck."
JARVIS' voice echoed through the lab. "Sir, emotionally unhealthy levels detected."
"JARVIS, put on my latest Spotify playlist."
"The one labeled 'Daddy Issues', Mr. Stark?"
Tony began to sob. "Yes."
Told Pepper. Told Rhodes. Told Happy.
"Lemme guess. You're gonna drunk-crash Wayne Manor and demand a paternity test?" Rhodes asked, deadpan.
"Correction: fully drunk—"
"No." Pepper interrupted. "We're doing this civilly."
"Civil to the man who dresses like a furry bat?"
"TONY."
Bruce ignored all of Tony’s cryptic "sooo hypothetically…" texts for a week straight because he knew exactly where this drama train was going.
Meanwhile, you? You laughed.
"Wow. Adopted by one billionaire, fathered by another. I'm so blessed. Somebody get me a third sugar daddy for the collection."
"I know a guy." Jason smirked, making eye contact with Damian.
"I offer Grandfather!" The young boy raised his hand. "Or Mother, if you prefer women."
But that night? You cried into Dick’s shoulder until you passed out, because what the hell even is your life anymore?
Happy? Furious? Running away to Metropolis? Maybe Clark Kent needs another child.
The manor went dead quiet.
Sarcasm and jokes were replaced by awkward coughs and therapy recommendations.
Formal meeting day arrived: you, Bruce, Alfred, Tony, Pepper.
All pretending this was normal and not a weird custody divorce hearing.
Double paternity tests (Stark AND Wayne labs because billionaires trust no one).
Tony, for once in his life, tried sincerity:
"Hey... Look. I'm not here to screw things up. If you're mine, I wanna make it right. Please."
"Do I get the Malibu penthouse?"
"I'll give you the world." Dead serious. Collective awkward silence follows.
They wanted to keep it secret.
Good luck. The media pounced like starving wolves. "WAYNE’S NEW KID ACTUALLY STARK’S LOVE CHILD???"
The Internet exploded.
Memes. Fanfics. Conspiracy threads. Elon tried to adopt you using a tweet.
Your life was hell.
Bruce and Tony tried to sue everyone. Alfred began pouring whiskey in his tea.
"Don't worry," Tim said. "If the tests are negative, this all goes away."
Sure. But everyone knew the truth already.
And when the test came back positive?
You just closed your eyes and sighed.
Long. Painful.
Like you aged 300 years in a second.
Tony spoke up first, beaming. "...So, Disneyland?"
"No, but I take cash."
"Noted."
Congratulations.
You're officially the multiverse’s weirdest, most exhausted child.










