Yandere Batfam! x Neglected Streamer! Reader
TW: Yet again I state yandere themes...it literally says it in the title
Damian wandered the halls of the manor quickly, every stride purposeful as his destination drew nearer.
Once an esteemed part of the manor, the west wing wing had been left to rot for years. After the passing of Bruce's parents, the area where he used to sleep as a child came with all the painful memories of his mother reading him to sleep and helping him get ready for school. His old childhood bedroom had been boarded up, and the whole wing had been abandoned after that.
You had been given a room there shortly after being adopted, the peeling wallpaper making you wrinkle your nose. Bruce had always claimed that the placement was temporary until he could get a new room fixed up for you...but the constant need to help save Gotham flung that promise from his mind within the first 12 hours of making it.
Damian silently observed the degrading state of the halls as he walked, eyeing the thick layer of dust that had settled on everything. What set off his internal alarms was the amount of dust that had was on the various paintings and vases on display. It looked like it hadn't been attended to for at least six months, but there wasn't enough to indicated years worth of neglect.
His steps paused as he reached your old door. Damian's hands twitched, faltering before reaching for the knob.
Why? Why did something feel wrong?
It was absurd. He was raised by the Al Ghuls, he was trained to be a lethal weapon...and yet he found himself hesitating at a mere door.
"Y/n. We need to talk." He spoke, waiting patiently for a response. When he didn't get one, he opened the door and stepped inside.
What he saw made him freeze, or rather the lack of what he saw did so.
Empty. Your room was empty. Nothing but peeling paint and the bare bones of a bookshelf & bedframe remained. His gaze roamed the room, searching for anything to help him determine where you were.
"Y/n..?" He spoke again, voice quieter as he took another step inside. Every footstep echoed as he walked, each sound a constant reminder of how bare your room was. One conclusion came to mind as he investigated, and he felt his jaw tick.
You were gone. You've been gone for a while judging by the stale air and dust collection. There was no signs of struggle, and none of the manor's alarms had gone off that he could remember, meaning you had likely left of your own accord.
Did father know? Were any of his siblings aware of your departure from the manor? If they were, why didn't they say anything to him? You weren't like the rest of them. You were weak, and weak things couldn't survive on their own in the Gotham streets.
Damian felt something burning in his chest, just below his diaphragm. Guilt? Worry? He wasn't sure. What was there to even worry about? It wasn't his fault you had been so susceptible to his mocking. He was trying to make you understand what the world was really like; it wasn't his fault you were so emotional about everything.
So then why? Why did he feel bad about every time he sent you running out crying? Why did he feel so bad about all the times he had threatened you or mocked your lineage?
You were always the competition for the estate, for the Wayne legacy. If anything, he should be elated that you've suddenly vanished. Instead all he felt was the ache in his lower stomach, and the dull throb of his jaw as it clenched relentlessly. He wasn't even aware that he had pulled his phone out, already dialing up the number he knew could help locate and retrieve his older sibling.
He was doing this for you. He'd make sure to educate you on why you can't survive without the family once he got you back.
Dick had made himself a promise to invite you out to dinner to properly congratulate you on your fame. He had spent the past few hours running around and getting a cake, making sure the bakery had the words 'Congratulations, Baby Bird!' written elegantly in frosting and everything. He hummed to himself as he looked it over, chest puffing up with pride when it looked spectacular.
It was perfect, just like his favourite little sibling deserved.
He was practically skipping as he went to find your room, trying not to think about the sorry state your area of the manor was in compared to his.
Ah, it doesn't matter. He'd quickly have you moved into his old room so that he could make sure you were living comfortably where he could find you easily next time he visited from Blüdhaven.
"Baby bird? I heard about you reaching 2 mil the other day! I brought a cake to celebrate and everything, I'm so proud of-" He began, freezing when he stepped into the open door and saw nothing but Damian.
"They're gone." The youngest spoke, covering his tone in fake indifference.
"Gone? What do you mean gone?" Dick echoed, the smile melting off his face.
"I don't know." Damian replied, arm motioning towards the room. "They're gone. Appeared as if they haven't resided here for at least 6 months."
Dick felt himself set the cake down, a mild panic rising in his chest.
"How? What? They- they couldn't have just left-"
"Evidently, they did." Damian spoke.
"No...no. They're too young. Gotham will eat them alive, Damian. W-what if they get robbed? What if they get mugged? Or murderered? What if they get hurt and we can't help them-" Dick rambled, pacing around the room as he bit his cheek in worry.
"Then we need to get them back before they can get hurt." Damian replied. "You'll talk to Jason. I'll talk to Father and Tim. We'll find them and bring them home."
When Jason first learned that Bruce had adopted two new kids shortly after his passing, he was pissed.
Had he really meant so little to the old man that he would go and pick up two more strays without a second thought?
For months he watched from the shadows as Bruce trained up a new robin, teaching him all the gimmicks and trades of the job. Watching how Tim received the same praise Bruce used to give him, the occasional physical affection the two shared almost making him sick. For the longest time, Jason hated Tim with every drop of his being. Everything the kid did seemed to be a slap in the face. Improving the manor's security, rapidly solving cases with Bruce, the rate in which he seemed to pick up fighting...all of it made him hate the Bat even more.
If Tim was a replacement, you were some cheap knockoff trinket left to collect dust on a shelf. At least with Tim, Jason could understand that Bruce adopted him because he would be a good robin. But you? Why on earth would Bruce waste time taking in such an insignificant thing? You weren't a fighter, weren't an inventor...all you had was half of Bruce's DNA, and even then he heard that you only had that because Bruce got a little too drunk one night and decided to get it on with some low life drug dealer. Somehow that made you worthy to take the place in the manor that he once held? What a joke.
Oh if he hated Tim, then he despised you.
Of course, he never really saw you do anything. He never witnessed any interaction between you and Bruce. He never stuck around long enough to see if you got along with the family, he just assumed you did: because of course you did, didn't you? If you didn't...then all his hatred held no meaning. If you weren't a child that got fawned over by all of the family, if you weren't coddled by them, then all the anger he had bottled up towards you over the years was unjustified...and he couldn't have that.
So colour him surprised when he got a phone call from a frantic Dick, hurriedly rushing out words over the phone as he tried to convey the urgency of the situation to Jason.
You. Gone. No one knows where. This for some reason matters?
"Okay? What does this have to do with me?" Jason spoke, picking at one of his nails.
"We need you to find them, Jason."
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