NerdThatBreathes

You didn't probe the topic right away, instead waiting until dinner was starting to wrap up before poking the bear.

This time around, Jason didn't do any of that weird bullshit about serving you food, only because Alfred had taken that responsibility beforehand.

Well, kinda. Your worries about upsetting your already unhappy stomach with a heavy Sunday roast turned out to be unnecessary, since Alfred had made you an entirely separate meal.

Your food consisted of warm miso soup and a side of some kind of seasoned tofu. For a second, you couldn't believe that Alfred had taken the time to make you something separate from the others, it was out of character for the man.

For the gang of vigilantes, Alfred regularly made specialized meals, but since you weren't usually recovering from massive injuries, you just went along with whatever was on the table that day. Regardless of the dish, the food was always high-quality and delicious.

You'd never complained, and he'd never deviated, until today.

You supposed that a concussion was reason enough to get a different meal, but it was still odd to have that kind of direct attention on you, doubly so from Alfred.

Whatever, at least it saved you from Jason playing Jenga with your food again.

You still felt intensely watched by the people around the table, but kept your head buried firmly down at your plate until it was time for dessert. Only after Alfred had set out the Bread Pudding (you got a platter of cut fruit) did you clear your throat and look up at Bruce, who was already looking straight at you.

This was it. You'd had the craziest three days of your life. Your boundaries (built over years of careful movement through a house that wasn't yours) had been violated repeatedly, you'd had not a smidge of autonomy (upon reflection), the people you'd come to accept as unfortunate constants had completely flipped their personalities, and you'd been kidnapped by the fucking Riddler because he thought that Bruce would come for you.

And craziest of all was that he was right.

You'd put up with it only because you had to, it wasn't like these fuckers let you get a word in edgewise, instead dragging you along like a passenger on the rollercoaster of your life.

And now, they were essentially threatening to isolate you entirely, after 3 days of completely insane behavioral changes.

You weren't quite sure if you were the one going through psychosis or they were.

Inhale, exhale.

You cleared your throat again and started slowly, "Tim said you had my phone? That the doctors gave it to you at the hospital or something?"

Bruce answered back just as calmly, cutting into his dessert as he responded, "Yes, that's right."

This asshole really wanted you to spell it out, huh? World's greatest detective my ass.

"Could I have it back?" No please, no explaining yourself. You didn't need to, the request was perfectly reasonable. Somewhere inside you knew Bruce didn't care much about reasonable. This was the same man that dressed up as a Bat and beat the shit out of criminals every night.

"No."

Like father like son.

Inhale, exhale.

"Why not?"

The rest of the table was quiet, watching the exchange carefully.

Bruce lifted his bite toward his mouth, "No screens, remember? That's what the doctor said." He frowned, "You do remember that, correct?"

Funny how Tim had said the same thing, huh? These people either thought you were stupid or were banking on you not to question them.

"I do. I also remember her saying that I could have them back after 48 hours."

"Ah and therein lies the problem. It hasn't been 2 days yet, sweetheart, you're not cleared for screens."

Sweetheart?

Inhale, exhale.

"Yeah, funny, Tim said the same thing." You pretended not to notice the withering glare the others sent his way. "He also said that you're not planning to give me my phone back even after the time's up, so uh what's the deal there?"

Bruce continued to fix his icy blue eyes at a point through you. "For smoothest recovery, we'll be increasing your screentime slowly. It wouldn't do you any good if you immediately went back to the numbers you had before, and- hours a day? Really? It'll be good for you to find some other hobbies."

At that you had to laugh, something disbelieving and forced.

"You know, its not even really about the phone, it's..." You trailed off, waving your hands around towards the table.

Your father leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and bringing his hands into a clasp in front of his face. Terrible manners and a guarded pose, he was gearing up for something and while you couldn't put a name to it, so were you.

He raised a brow, "It's what, exactly?"

Inhale, exhale.

Maybe when you were younger, still licking your wounds from being tossed to the side, you would have lost your bravado there, clamming up and holing back up in your room.

But you'd worked hard to get away from that, becoming someone who wasn't deathly afraid of confrontation. You wouldn't start the fight, but that didn't mean you'd let someone walk all over you.

That said, when it came to Bruce, phrasing was important. You'd been a silent bystander to many of his fights with the others, slinking around the manor and listening in to them play mental gymnastics.

The second any of them heard something that could be twisted in their favor, they would take it and twist, you knew that.

So you paused a second to think about how you could say this. Again, he'd find some way somehow to misconstrue anything you could possibly say, but from your side, you had to be smart about this. You didn't have years of experience fighting Bruce like the others, but he'd never had the chance to study you the way that you had been doing to him.

You were, at the end of the day, his child.

"You tell me, Bruce. for the past three days, you've been...like a whole different person. Is that what this is? Are you dosed with something? Are all of you doused with something? Because you have to recognize none of this is normal."

"What part exactly isn't normal?"

"The part where you care."

At that, Bruce worked his jaw.

"I care more than you think."

"Really?"

Jason had given up part way through the conversation and lounged back in his seat, slowly working through his dessert with a smug set to his lips. Tim's eyes were wide, bouncing between yourself and Bruce, the gears in his head visibly at work. Damian was still perfectly poised, his stance coiled up in preparation for a fight you wouldn't be having.

Dick, ever the martyr, stepped in to diffuse the palpable tension around the table. Or maybe he was just an attention whore who lived for the fantasy of trying to stitch his broken family together every time.

Probably the second.

"Wait. Both of you, calm down. (Name), of course Bruce cares, we all care-"

Inhale, exhale.

"Really? I mean, sure, fine, I concede, maybe you think you care, but that doesn't change the fact that you nothing you've done has been normal since Friday!"

"Friday? You mentioned you thought that was a PR stunt, is that was this is all about? You believe that any intention to be a father must be because of some external influence? Or that I have to be dosed in order to want to spend time with my child?"

Bruce's volume didn't get any louder, a dangerous illusion of calm, even though by the end he was practically hissing through his teeth, eyes narrowed into something sharp.

"Yes." The words slipped out before you could stop them, quiet but they seemed to echo around the room.

You continued, "I do think there has to be something foul at play for you to talk to me because why wouldn't I? I can count on two hands the amount of times we've had a conversation over the last 8 years!"

"You don't care about me! And I was fine with that! I was finally fine with that! I made my peace with it. With you. But then you come back, demanding to—what, get breakfast, sit through family dinners, follow medication schedules? For fucks sake, Bruce! Why couldn't you just let me live in peace?"

"You threw me to the side, you gave up on me. But why'd you have to come back."

The words weren't stopping, not even as you watched, tunnel vision on your father, as Bruce's face turned shades paler (no small feat), his knuckles white around his utensils.

"Now that's not fair, (Name)." Dick again butted in, hands raised with his palms up, staring intently at you, cornflower blue eyes unblinking. "This is family, and that means understanding that-"

You were tired of this conversation already, head starting to pound a steady thrum in the back of your skull, but you'd tussle the verbal 5v1 if needed, no going back now.

Inhale, exhale.

But it wasn't you that responded. It was Jason, hands scrubbing over his face, grin gone, looking more exhausted than he was a minute ago.

"No, they're right. They're right, Dickie, you know that. We knew this was going to happen, and you can try to pull as much bullshit as you want around them, but the little bird's smart. Always has been."

"Jason-" Tim started, urgency in his tone.

But Jason never listened once he got started.

"No, Timbers, I'm not-" he exhaled harshly, clearly frustrated, "I put up with this shit because you all said it would work out. That (Name) wouldn't ask questions, and when I said that this would blow up in our faces, you told me that we'd come clean. "

You felt frozen, like the room was revolving around you, time becoming syrupy and slipping right through your fingers.

"What? Come clean? Come clean about what? Jason-"

"Jason. Stop." Bruce this time, barking sharply at Jason from the head of the table. "This is not how we agreed to tell-"

Dick looked pissed, glaring daggers into Jason from across the table, "Wow, Little Wing, well done. Now they're even more confused, you were the one harping on about a gentle appr-"

Inhale, exhale.

Jason cut them both off, "You heard them! You heard what happens when (Name) slips through our hands, you know this! Right now, concussed, sitting at a table with people that are practically strangers, is this a gentle approach? You want to lose ours too, you fuckheads!"

Lose...you? And who was 'them'? And why was the room starting to spin even faster?

Tim was looking straight at you, the only one at the table that was still focusing on you, Damian watching the exchange between the three oldest, still bickering, with clear disgust and disbelief.

"(Name), listen to me, I know you're confused, but you need to stop and breathe, you're panicking. Stop-"

Oh. He was right, you weren't breathing properly anymore.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

While you tried to suck down some actual air, head pounding, Tim just continued to say something at you, words too quiet to be heard over the thump in your ears and Dick, Jason, and Bruce's fighting.

"(Name) is on the verge of passing out. Congratulations to all of you, we've done exactly what we most feared. Now if you could stop acting like imbeciles for ONE SECOND, you'd see that they're swaying in their seat."

Damian, making a stunning debut in the ring.

But he was right, get yourself together, you have shit to do.

Inhale, exhale.

You were going to get your answers, no taking the easy way out and passing out this time.

"From the top, no bullshit, no lies, what happened? Who are 'they'? And what do you mean lose me?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(A/n: OMG WE'RE HERE, WE FINALLY MADE IT, the (so far) climax of the series, where I get to deliver to you my rendition of "the big one", the fight that gets you some answers. Answers that are coming....next time, YAY! (sorry i wanted to answer them in this chapter, but I'm not happy with how that went, and you guys deserve a better draft than I currently have) so until we meet again!

Also, I hope I've redeemed myself with reader finally gaining a backbone! I've heard the people, I know you guys have wanted to see reader stand up for themself and so have I! This is how I see it going down, but as always all feedback is more than appreciated! <3)

You hobbled over (still feeling a little funky from all the excitement of the last day and a half) to the en-suite and winced your way through brushing your teeth and actually washing your face for the first time in too long.

Years of basically taking care of yourself meant that you had a medicine cabinet and multiple drawers stocked up with the essentials. You tried your best to clean up with some dry shampoo for your roots and bruise cream for your green knees, all the while taking care not to bend too far forward or back.

You also, from the top shelf of your medicine cabinet, pulled out a small bottle of store brand pain killers. This were in there mostly for little things like headaches and stomach cramps, but according to your chart, a higher dose of these would work for your concussion pain too.

So down the hatch they went, before you got changed into something different and actually stepped out of your room for the first time in a while.

For not quite the first time, you were grateful about having a room on the ground floor, since you were most definitely not making it down any stairs for a while, the effort would likely send you tumbling back down and landing like the family guy death pose.

Speaking of media, your phone and all other electronic devices had been notably missing since the museum, and you were on the hunt to find them. The doctor had said no screens, but there wasn't really much else to do right now, so at the very least couldn't you put a podcast on at low volume for a little fun?

You kept hobbling your way to the kitchen, hovering near the wall for stability, and stepped through the arched entrance to Alfred standing over something sizzling at the stove. He turned to acknowledge you, face mostly impassive except for a single arched brow, which was usually the most emotive he would get.

"Out of bed so soon, Miss/Master (Name)? I could have sworn you were on doctor's orders to not exert yourself."

Alfred hadn't talked to you at such length for a while so you took a second to think before responding.

"I feel okay, to be honest, not as bad as yesterday, for sure. I took some painkillers a little while ago so the headache's starting to subside, I'm just kinda hungry."

Alfred had a way of making you feel small with the way he seemed to convey so much disappointment with only his eyes, never falling so low as to voice his displeasure. The old man was more secure in his place in this household then you were, so you were under no false pretenses that his show of decorum was more of a defensive shield against those he didn't seem to like, such as yourself. Should he cuss you out tomorrow, his job was at no risk of termination. (More likely they'd finally find a reason to throw you out.)

When you were younger, when your whole world tilted on its axis and you became just another ghost in the manor, Alfred's change in behavior had cut deep. In the place of a man you once saw as your grandfather, all warm smiles and cookies and infinite wisdom shared over steaming tea, was the overwhelming grief in his eyes whenever he caught you sitting in Jason's old spot in the library, reading his books or bunched up in his blankets.

He'd looked almost sick the first time he saw you playing alone in the sunroom, eyes locked on the empty spot next to you. You knew Alfred just couldn't look at you after Jason died, whether it was from guilt or resentment didn't matter.

As you got older, the sadness shifted to a heavy disappointment. Alfred Pennyworth would never do something as ill mannered as scoff, but the way he looked at you was enough to get the message across. He'd served three generations of Waynes now, and by far were you the most unremarkable of the bunch.

You weren't a billionaire philanthropist, nor were you trying to be, you weren't Batman or Robin, you didn't help out with the mission, and you didn't stand out at galas or in high society. You were just you, and for Alfred, that didn't seem to be good enough.

For him, it was easy to push you to the side, he had a million other things to take care of, people to stitch up, you could keep yourself alive for a little while without him right?

All that to say, the way he was staring at you was unfortunately familiar, upset at your presence, but forcing himself to stay within the bounds of polished manners. The only thing that was slightly different today was how he seemed to be unsatisfied at your answer, only continuing to watch you squirm, still just barely though the threshold of the kitchen. Usually, he'd take any response as sufficient proof of life and leave it at that.

To be honest it was bringing back unpleasant memories of how the Riddler had stared at you, that uncanny gaze knowing exactly what you were thinking and planning to wring the right answers out of you.

He cleared his throat, pouring out what seemed to be a broth of some kind into a serving bowl.

"(Master/Miss) (Name)? Are you quite alright?"

"Sorry, what? I uh- checked out for a second."

Again, he looked very unimpressed.

"I asked about the medication you mentioned, what was it and how much did you take, exactly? I know your father meant to keep you on a strict schedule so I imagine this won't please him to hear."

You rattled off what you remembered, some off-brand variety you'd got off the bottom rung of shelves the last time you needed a refill.

Alfred turned back to the his work for a moment, pulling out a batch of Yorkshire puddings from one of the many ovens (oh great it was monthly Sunday roast day, when Alfred got all patriotic for his motherland and decided to subject the rest of the family to a classic British spread. Usually with his skill in the kitchen, it was pretty good, but you weren't fully sure if you could keep down something so heavy right now. Oh well.)

"Hm. Well, dinner will be served in the next 20 minutes, so it would be wise to take a seat now, before the rest of your family comes down, making a ruckus as always."

He had a point, you weren't really in a state to try and shove past whichever combination of robins would be brawling on the floor by the time they all got downstairs, so you made your way over, sliding into the same seat you'd been in on Friday.

~~~~~

Tim was the first one down, eyes darting wildly around the dining room before they zeroed in on you. He moved to take his seat across from you.

"(Name)! There you are, I was looking for you! Well, more like I was gonna help you from your room to the table, but anyway- How are you feeling? You should take your meds after dinner."

You awkwardly threw him a double thumbs-up from across the table, "Yeah, I er- already took some, so I think I'm good for the night, probably just gonna eat and go back to bed."

You noticed how he scrunched up his brows when you mentioned taking your meds already.

The off-brand version wasn't even that bad! It was the same stuff mostly, just cheaper. So much hate and for what?

"Oh, uh, okay, sure, yeah, just let Bruce know, he's been trying to keep you on a schedule."

"Yeah, Alfred told me." Bruce and his fucking schedule. Medication was medication, what was the big deal? Either way you'd basically be taking the same thing, no?

Tim just nodded and pulled out his phone, typing away furiously for a few seconds before putting it face-down turning back to you.

"Sorry, WE work," He laughed for a second, "Um- did you sleep well? I still remember my first time getting taken by the Riddler, I was shitting myself."

He was smiling, but you weren't. For a second you felt bad, what you went through yesterday is what he'd been accustomed to for so long.

The first time he got taken by the Riddler was when he was 13. You remembered this vividly because Bruce had gone near insane. Batman stopped pulling his punches that night, and Tim's Robin, not for the first time, turned him away from going too far.

"No, no nightmares, I knocked out after the meds pretty much. I didn't dream at all."

He beamed at you, tired eyes crinkling at the corners, "That's good. You need all the rest you can get."

"Hey Tim, do you know where my phone is?"

His face didn't change in the slightest, "Yeah Bruce has it, the EMTs gave it to him when you were being taken to the hospital."

"Can I get it back, I wanna-"

"No."

"What."

"No."

His smile didn't move an inch, "Doctor's orders, remember? No screens, loud noises, harsh lights, reading, exercising, or otherwise strenuous activity for at least the next week."

That wasn't what you remembered. You frowned, pushing through the remainder of your headache to try and remember the exact instructions you had been given.

"No wait, I could have sworn he said no screens only for the first 48 hours, then I can get them back, and the rest of the stuff's not a problem since I don't do most of that anyway. Except for the reading, but I can read on my tablet or something."

Tim put up two fingers, "Two things. First, it hasn't been 48 hours yet, has it? And second, that's mostly a suggestion, the longer you spend off of your screens the quicker your recovery will be. So Bruce thinks you should try to stay off of your devices for at least a week to start with, then we can start to reintroduce them, like 10 minutes a day to start. You work your way back up, under careful monitoring, of course."

"What the hell? Whadyamean? Tim, I can't just stay offline for a week, I have so much homewor-"

"Oh you don't have to worry about that for a while."

"What are you talking about, I've at least got to-"

"No, Bruce talked to the school already."

That gave you pause, "...About?"

He fiddled with a loose thread on the sleeve of his hoodie, "You have the next week off, and after that it'll be on a day-by-day basis to see if you're cleared to go."

"Tim-," you were gearing up to fight about this, fuck it. If you couldn't go to school, what were you supposed to do all day? All you currently had was your life outside of the manor's walls and online, what were you supposed to do without both?

The rest of the family started to file in, as Alfred carried over dinner from the kitchen. You didn't have time to finish your thought as Jason slid into the seat next to you.

Oh fuck, wasn't this a little too familiar?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(A/n: Chapter 12!! Getting into the throes of it now! Please please please, as always, feedback is much treasured so let me know what you think or any thoughts, comments, and guesses. (👀))

Yandere Alien! who's apart of a shady intergalactic civilization that likes to test on extraterrestrial organisms before sending them right back to their planets. Earth was next on the list (or Planet 0435 as they called it), and held the first discovered group of free thinking beings.

"They have schools, literature, technology!" His leader ranted, stupefied by the advancements of humanity.

Despite your tech being millennia behind that of his people, it was fascinating. Until now, they had never seen another organism capable of such advanced cognitive abilities!

Yandere Alien! who is apart of a special task force created to enter the chosen planets and extract samples, and is a stickler for the rules. Collect the strongest, weakest, old and young, and make sure you get a mix of male and female humans.

He is supposed to choose meticulously. Based only on the given guidelines. That is, until he noticed you.

You had been walking around a campsite when the alien saw you and became absolutely smitten, not that he would admit it. You were a lesser being, something to study and take whatever valuable information you could provide from.

Though he wondered if beauty would be an acceptable merit of testing.

Yandere Alien! who’s humanoid to some extent, a body that reaches 8 feet with blue skin and metallic clothing. Two legs, four arms, a blackened, scaly tail with two inky antennas to match, two tongues meant to help enunciate words better and speak using foreign sounds unbeknownst to you. What would normally be the whites of his eyes were a pale blue, a darker blue with what you could only describe as a small galaxy swaying lightly in place of an iris. His jaw, thin and angled had a constant pressure against it.

Yandere Alien! who managed to hold you off from being chosen for the internalized research testing. How could he possibly allow for his peers to put a scalpel through your brain? Though, he did offer to study you more intimately (which was immediately agreed upon by his leader, as anatomy surely holds necessary comparative data).

Imagine the shock when he found your teeth to be blunt! A slender, sharpened finger gliding smoothly across your upper row of teeth before resting on your pink lower lip.

“How peculia- OUCH!” You bit him! “You really are no different to the mindless animals we’ve tested on.” He muttered, bringing one of his three fingers to his mouth and sucking the green blood out.

Yandere Alien! who’s species no longer uses their reproductive organs. Technology fosters bigger and better versions of their species by combining DNA, there’s no need for it anymore! Humans, on the other hand, still weren’t at that stage of humanity quite yet; as seen by all the sexual desire running rampant among them. Two humans had fallen in ‘love’ as they called it, but refused to explain it further.

To a species that had only used intimacy for reproductive purposes (and now no longer even need that), how could they possibly understand romance through the eyes of a human?

Yandere Alien! who decides to inquire about the experience of ‘love’ to you, the only human he’s gotten remotely close with (if you call scratching and biting at him close).

“Don’t you have someone you enjoy spending time with?” The hymn of your voice always had a lazy sound to it, likely a result of your lack of a tongue.

He quite liked it and often found himself waiting outside your caged cell to listen to your conversations with the other humans.

You were smart, he had realized, and witty.

Yandere Alien! who is finally instructed to learn about how humans reproduce. Of course, he chooses to look at your anatomy over anyone else’s; you’re his little guinea pig after all. At first, you deny him, his blue hands fumbling with your clothes to find out what exactly you’re hiding.

He ripped the shirt off first, his taloned fingers discarding the fabric before setting his eyes onto your chest, the plumpness of your breasts a stark contrast to anything he had ever seen before. A tense knot formed in his lower abdomen at the sight of your flushed face and arms attempting to hide your upper body.

“If you are hiding your chest, it is because it is a reproductive organ, correct?” Your blush deepened further before you slapped him across the face.

With a nod, he understood what you meant. “You’re such an aggressive human. The others are so docile.” He noted as he ripped off your pants and underwear, finally revealing what he was looking for. The tension inside of him built further, a frustrated groan almost escaping his throat before looking up at you, hands holding your legs apart. “It’s similar. Smaller, a different color, but similar.”

Your chest heaved up and down, and he felt a sudden urge to squeeze your breasts if only for a moment.

Yandere Alien! who’s a jittery, nervous, sexually depraved mess. There’s a tightness in his pants he had never experienced before and was sure that removing his clothes would fix it.

“Would you like to see… what ours looks like?” His request was rhetorical, the metallic pieces covering his thighs sliding off as he revealed two dark blue penises, ridges extruding around them and two purple heads with precum dripping out.

“Y-You have two.” You whispered matter-of-factly.

The alien cocked his head to the side, “Don’t male humans?”

Yandere Alien! who was taken aback by your bold move to touch one of his dicks, a nimble hand sliding up and down slowly as you examined the way his cocks twitched at the sensation. A shiver ran down his spine and he found himself grabbing at you, hips unconsciously bucking up slowly to get you to touch him further. “What is this feeling?” He grumbled out next to your ear.

You stayed silent as you jerked the alien off, the warmth of his body feeling closer and closer.

You hadn’t noticed the alien pulling you so close until you felt the head of the second cock poking at your entrance, the softness of your pussy causing a moan to falter from his lips.

“Wait-” before you could protest, the alien fully inserted himself into the gummy walls of your pussy, his head falling back and antennas twitching incessantly. The feeling of his massive cock stretching you out caused your body to jolt into his embrace further, a squeal sounding from your throat before quieting into pleasured moans.

“Mmph,” he had never felt something so amazing, so primal. You’re nothing but a dumb, aggressive little human but god do your tight walls make his dicks swell with need.

“This is so good, so good.” He moaned out, a hand grabbing at your scalp and pulling you into his chest as his tail found its way around on of your ankles.