Chapter Text
Ancient powers are drawn to dusk.
As the night creeps in, it does so carrying the promise of lives to hunt, scare, and chase, that is considered freedom for creatures that don’t belong in the light. In Gotham, dusk is a warning bell. It excites the worst and terrifies the rest.
People walk faster as the shadows stretch, clutching bags and coats like shields, knuckles white from holding on. Deep down, they know even their homes aren’t safe. Nothing in Gotham is untouchable.
But as trouble spills into the streets, so do the bats.
Justice in the hands of the haunted. And sometimes… in the hands of monsters.
Johnny Suh, elder vampire and reluctant enforcer of balance, stood in the glowing haze of a run-down liquor store. His form elegant, tall, human for now. Masked the beast within. But tonight, it stirred.
Because of her.
She stood a few feet ahead of him in line, her sweater slipping from one shoulder, dark curls falling over her face, and a voice soft enough to steal his attention even before she turned.
She shivered slightly as the door opened, letting in a gust of cold air. It swept her hair aside, baring the curve of her neck… and a bleeding bruise just below her jaw.
Johnny inhaled sharply.
His fangs itched to descend.
His throat burned with thirst, his hands tingled, twitching from the restraint. Five hundred years of control nearly shattered because of one simple, human girl.
Then, she spoke.
“It’s white wine for fish, right?” she asked the worker, turning slightly, her voice unsure but sweet. “I’m not great with pairings. I’m cooking Tilapia Florentine. Just for me, I wanted to treat myself for once.”
Alone, Johnny noted grimly. Bad information to drop in front of a predator.
The clerk smiled. “Any white works, but I’d recommend this Pinot Grigio, perfect for fish.”
Johnny cleared his throat, trying to blink away the red blooming in his vision.
“Godello’s good,” he said without thinking. “Clean. Cheaper, too.”
She turned toward him then, fully. Her eyes sparkled, not with fear, but curiosity.
“Oh, thanks,” she said warmly. “I appreciate the honesty. You a wine snob, or just a man of taste?”
He chuckled softly, surprised by his own voice. “Bit of both.”
She smiled at that. Bright, real, and totally unguarded.
It was the most dangerous thing she could’ve done.
As she paid, her sweater slipped again, this time fully revealing the bruise on her shoulder. It looked fresh. The scent of dried blood barely covered by perfume hit him like a hammer. His hunger spiked.
That’s why I’m unraveling, Johnny realized. I’m not weak. She’s bleeding.
A relief. But still a problem.
The girl left the store with a bottle in one hand and a cheap tote bag slung over your arm. He should’ve let her go.
Instead, he stared.
She had no idea what has been following your footsteps.
_________________ (Y/N)
You walked with purpose, but not caution. Not tonight. Not after the long day you have had balancing Wayne family finances and attending night classes at Gotham University. Batgirl or not, tonight you were tired, starving, and just wanted one quiet dinner.
You didn’t hear him at first. The drunken footsteps. The muttered slurs.
Not until your bag was yanked from your arm and something hard cracked against your skull.
Everything spun.
The bottle shattered nearby. Blood bloomed.
Then ... darkness.
Johnny heard the scream before it finished. He was already gone before the bottle hit the pavement.
The scent of your blood made him hiss. Sweet. Tangy. Alive.
He found you slumped beside a dumpster, her breath shallow. The cane lay discarded, your tote torn open. The wine was lost, but you were not, at least not completely.
“Damn it,” he muttered, crouching.
He should leave you. Call someone. Be responsible.
Instead, he lifted your body gently, holding you close. You groaned faintly, as your head fell against his chest.
You smelled like starlight and iron to him. Like something sacred.
Like blood.
There was a storm brewing in his chest, and it wasn’t hunger.
The tunnels beneath Gotham stretched like veins under the city’s skin. Most were forgotten. But Johnny remembered.
He carried you through the damp stone halls, arms full of blood and something else he didn’t dare name. The others would smell it before both of you reached the stairs.
They did.
In the great hall of the vampire coven, six pairs of eyes turned toward the scent wafting through the darkness.
“She’s bleeding,” one muttered. “Bad idea bringing her in.”
“Smells good though,” Jungwoo said, licking his bottom lip.
“She’s pretty,” Jeno added thoughtfully.
“Cute,” Ten chimed. “But very... bitteble.”
“She’s human,” Jisung said finally, voice dry and unsure. “And we don’t eat our friends.”
Johnny didn’t stop walking.
“Take her to a room,” he ordered.
“The human?” Jisung squeaked.
“Who else?” Johnny snapped.
“Please... Nakamoto.”
That made Yuta stir.
The redhead, lounging with a book, closed it without a word. His gaze locked onto you, the only unconscious girl being held in Johnny’s arms. He rose, graceful and sharp as a blade.
“I’ve got her,” Yuta said.
Johnny hesitated, then nodded once.
The others watched him go, Y/N’s blood still thick in the air.
Yuta carried you like you've weighed nothing, fast and silent, slipping into an unused room deep in the den.
He laid you down gently. Your forehead was still bleeding, though slower now.
“Awake?” he asked.
Your eyes fluttered open, dazed, glassy, but aware and quite weak. You blinked, then looked at him. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but no words came.
Instead, a quiet breath. A slight nod.
“You really shouldn’t have been walking alone,” Yuta murmured, crouching beside the bed. “
Gotham’s not kind. Not at night.”
Open eyes met his, and your head shook a yes lightly,
however it also brought to attention to the smell of blood that lingerd, thanks to your forhead.
Nakamoto Yuta prayed for the first time since his change, - Damned be thy souls - and damned they were indeed.