Thinking about Vampire Tim AU and him saving Bruce via turning.
None of the Drakes are actually Vampires, at least not permanently. It was a very strange instance that occurred out of pure chance and coincidence.
A pregnant Janet Drake in a foreign country having a run in with a starving vampire rouge that bite her just a few days before she gave birth.
Instead of the curse spreading to her, the labour of her child pushed and the spreading of lifeform spread to her baby as it was born. The child looked healthy, had no inhuman features, and they assumed her being so sick was simply the fact she was about to give birth.
Tim doesn’t realise what he is for a while purely because his parents are vegan and, until he was seven and had some beef from a classmates lunch, hadn’t had any blood enter his mouth.
Having to teach himself everything, Tim learned to manage both his hunger and abilities as quickly as he could. He studied history and mythos and did several test to figure out the limits to what he needed and could do.
He learnt that he could heal via blood, that he could go without air for days, and that his hearing was normal though his sense of smell was enough to distinguish blood types.
He learn that he could go two weeks without blood before it became a problem, but if he pushed it past three weeks he would start to experience literally decay.
Tim disconcerted his saving grace was that the hunger wasn’t as uncontrollable as people made it out to be in movies and books. At most, it was just like normal human hunger or thirst, and he was aware there was a huge variable in him being raised rather poorly.
He keeps it hidden for years, but then when he’s nineteen Bruce dies.
Not Batman, Bruce.
They got in a car crash of all things, the other drive running after they drove them off the road on the extremely rare instance that Alfred wasn’t driving.
Tim watched the tree branch in his foster father’s chest for several minutes as he thought about his options. Bruce was dead upon impact, gone with only the last wisps of life hanging to him.
Bruce was a father.
Batman was needed.
Even though it would out what he was, Tim forced his several sharp teeth out, all needle sharp and long enough his jaw had to unhinge slightly, and bit into his own wrist. The fangs, an inch long each, dug into his skin painfully before moving to dig into each of Bruce’s wrist and then finally his neck.
Tim smeared the blood into all three wounds and then squeezed as much as he could into Bruce’s mouth.
He had no idea how he knew what to do, trusting the instinct the curse seemed to just… give him.
When Bruce begins to breath again, Clark finally shows up. It’s been a total of eleven minutes and Tim only realises that the other took so long because he had been off planet, yet he is grateful because if he had been there…
Tim instructs Clark on how to cover up the scene, removing the cars and getting Bruce to the cave.
Dick is freaking out, worrying over his brothers ripped clothes and Bruce’s clear injuries, but Tim is quiet.
He takes Bruce’s medical cot and leads them both into a containment cell and then seals it, implementing his own lock as well as one of Bruce’s so no one can open it. He can hear someone banging on the glass a few times but he ignores it to stand over his father’s side and wait for him to wake up.
Naturally, when the older man does he’s panicked and screening Tim’s name.
Tim smiles at him sadly before taking hold of his hand, which Bruce immediately process as wrong.
“Why aren’t I dead?”
Smile growing sadder before fading to an almost formal look, Tim squeezed his hand before pulling away.
“I know you’ve had your suspicions and I thank you for trusting me regardless, but you are right. I’m not human Bruce, and now… you aren’t either.”
He lets the worlds settle for just a moment before continuing, knowing the other will want all the information he can. They’re both so similar in that way.
“I was born a vampire, I will always be a vampire. I will explain that all to you soon, but what you need to know is this: you do not need to drink human blood, you will not loose control over your thirst if you allow me to train you, and yes I had no choice. Gotham needs Batman and I-… I need my father. I will not apologise for my selfishness, but I am sorry you have to be like me.”
Bruce is quiet but he doesn’t move to kick Tim out, nor does he shout at him or cry in betrayal.
He’s surprised, but not more than Tim had ever seen before.
It’s almost an hour of silence between them before Bruce speaks again, “You… you are actually nineteen?”
Tim scoffs and Bruce glares, which makes Tim smile more, “I am. My body will age until around twenty five, at least that’s my hypothesis. If you are turned you stay the age you were, but I was born.”
Bruce nods and after a moment reaches out for his son’s hand.
Another silence before he squeezes it, “Have you told the others about… this change?”
Tim winces, “I tried to keep us separated because I knew you would worry for hurting someone, but I knew Damian would break in if he couldn’t listen so…”
“Ah. Understood.”
Then, in another rare instance that Tim thought he wouldn’t see for at least another few years, Bruce opens his arms to him for a hug.
Naturally, Tim crumbles into his father’s arms and sobs louder than a war drum.
Bruce kisses his head and holds him tight, a vampire embrace.
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ngl Vampire Batman could very easily be a complete non-issue.
Like, Bruce wakes up to find he's been turned into a vampire, and after thorough research, he finds there is no cure, so he locks himself in isolation for a while and does a boat load of more tests.
and in the end he steps out like "ok, I have determined that as long as I am well fed, I am perfectly safe to be around in terms of vampire instincts."
After a little more time, he figures out how best to keep himself well fed- maybe a deal with blood banks or willing donors or something else ethical- and then just... goes about his business as usual.
Maybe it gets out that he's a vampire, and Gotham's just like "yeah, that makes sense, sure. He protects us normal citizens from harm, and in exchange we can donate to keep him fed and sane. I think that's a pretty good deal."
All in all, Bruce/Batman becoming a vampire is far less of an issue than the Justice League & Co were worried it would be.
(obviously there's that canon dc vs vampire comic series and stuff, but ignoring that- you get where I'm coming from, right?)
A few more moments, he tells himself, burrowing further into his wings as a sharp blast of wind tears at the protective cape clipped to his wingclaws. A few more moments, then he’ll make his way back to the manor.
But then there’s a shift of gravel on the roof beside him.
Bruce snaps around, the rotating ears of his cowl letting him know exactly which direction the sound had come from. He catches a flash of red and realizes it hadn’t been a blast of wind at all; it’d been the downdraft of a speedster.
The Flash bounces on his toes, searching the skies north of Gotham, unaware of the predator above.
Something swells up in Bruce’s chest, like a balloon expanding in the cavity behind his ribs, something sharp and angry that gnaws at his human sense. Unconsciously, he peels his lips back, baring serum-sharped incisors at the threat. Not a threat, he tells himself even as he shifts into a predatory crouch. He wrestles control over himself before a territorial scream can escape.
What the hell is the Flash doing in Gotham?
He flexes his fingers, his claws scraping into the brick beneath him. He grits his teeth against the urge to dig them into something softer, something that’ll give way and spill the sweet tang of his most shameful craving.
Steady, he tells himself. Watch. The Flash is waiting for something.
That something turns out to be Superman and Wonder Woman.
Bruce’s shoulders tense, and with it the deltoids and trapezeus of his wings, the muscle aching with the need to stretch out, to bring him swooping down on the unsuspecting trio.
There are powerful beings in his territory. They are going to fight him for it, the bat within hisses.
“Anysignofhim?”
He can just barely make out Flash’s quick words over the thundering of blood in his ears. Any sign of him?
He digs his claws into the brick a fraction of an inch deeper as Wonder Woman responds, “I saw no sign of this so-called Batman.”
They came here for him.
“The city is quiet given its usual reputation,” Superman shares, frowning. “I heard no fight that could be attributed to him.”
“Perhaps he is not hunting tonight?” suggests Wonder Woman, looking as if she still doubts his existence.
“Hmm. There was a breakout at Blackgate Penitentiary not long ago. It’s possible he could be recuperating. I heard Firefly set an apartment building on fire.”
As Wonder Woman and Superman continue discussing, the Flash zips around the rooftop. Bruce watches with narrow eyes as he scans his surroundings, peering into the fog-obscured city. The Flash squints at the gargoyle on the other end of the building he’s perched on, then he turns towards Bruce.
He stills.
Bruce stares back, the gleaming white of his lenses shielded by the angle of his wings. However, he cannot control the wind. It whirls past and drags at his cape.
The Flash goes white.
“Uh, guys?” he calls out, not taking his eyes off Bruce.
Neither Wonder Woman nor Superman take notice. Slowly, Bruce extends his wings, preparing himself for flight. The continued eye contact is sparking something in him, and he isn’t quite sure if it wants him to attack the Flash or flee from the three predators in his city.
The Flash takes several rapid steps back, kicking up dust and gravel as he speeds back to his companions’ sides.
“Superman? Wonder Woman?” he tries again, voice pitching up in fear as he points at Bruce.
Wonder Woman spares a glance Bruce’s way, but her eyes don’t lock onto him like the Flash’s have. “It’s just a gargoyle, Flash,” she says, before she turns back to Superman and says once more, “Are you sure the Batman is a real entity? Our sources have yet to catch sight of him. Not even a photo.”
The Flash makes a strangled sound. Bruce would be amused if he wasn’t as concerned with the Justice League stalking him. Perhaps he should back away before anyone else notices, drop off into an alleyway and force the transformation back to his more human self so he can summon the Batmobile to take him back to the Cave. It would be more sensible than flying, not when one—perhaps two, he has yet to confirm if Wonder Woman can sustain true flight—of the Justice League’s aerial members are searching for him.
Unfortunately, it seems the Flash has reached the end of his tether. He rapidly slaps Superman’s arm hissing, “Guys, I don’t think that’s a gargoyle!”
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Yandere!Vampire!Rouges x Gn!Vampire Slayer!Reader x Yandere!Vampire!Batfam
Masterlist━━╋━
Part 1 ━━╋━ Part 2 (you're here) Part 3 ━━╋━
Characters: You (2nd POV), Tim Drake/Red Robin, Batman/Bruce Wayne, Poison Ivy, Barbra Gordon/Oracle (Mentioned), Dick Grayson/Nightwing.
Warnings: Infantilizing language, blood, canon-typical violence, medical procedures, forced feeding/drinking blood. I'm making up the Vampires as I go, so they might not be traditional to "normal" Vampires.
THIS WORK WAS ***NOT*** WRITTEN WITH THE HELP OF AI, AND MAY NOT BE SCRAPED FOR THE TRAINING OF AI AND/OR OTHER TECHNOLOGY. TAG LIST, AND IMAGE RIGHTS ARE AT THE BOTTOM OF THE POST. Ask box is open for any questions! MDNI.
Your worst fears were real. You were going to die. Your blood wouldn't be drained, but you doubted that Batman would allow you to live after all of this. All of your missions out, all of the Vampires you helped kill. It would all be for nothing. Your party would not know what happened to you, you hoped that they would mourn you.
Batman stood slowly, his cape billowing out around him like a shadow. You couldn't see his face, too obscured by his tall cowl, but you could see his eyes.
Curiously, they were blue. You had been told that all Vampire's eyes turned red, but Batman's eyes were like ice over rushing water. They pinned you down where you stood, analyzing you with a critical gaze.
You were shaking now, blood loss starting to make you dizzy. You took a stumbling step back, which Batman matched with a sort of slow glide that made nary a sound. He was in no hurry to chase you down, as he knew that you would not be able to run far.
Perhaps he was toying with you. Like a lion following after a gazelle it had already torn into, bloodied and limping and moving only out of instinct.
You hadn't realized how tall Batman was until you were face to face with him. You had to crane your neck to look up, tears pooling in your eyes as death stared you down. Neither of you moved, your labored breathing filling the silence of the inches between you. You could smell him, he was so close.
"That isn't your blood," he stated, leather glove-clad hand pinching your cheek and tilting your head from side to side. He paused when he saw your injury, still sluggishly bleeding. The dried blood felt tight against your skin as he moved your chin further upward, stopping only when you gasped in pain at the stretch. His frown deepened into a scowl.
"I found them sneaking around the park." Red Robin's hand was suddenly grasping your arm, pulling you up. You hadn't even noticed you were starting to slump, or that he had caught up to you. "They almost fell for the lamp Jason put up, I didn't smell them until they started to run."
Batman grunted.
"They don't have a Sire," Red Robin continued, his voice lowering in pity, "I doubt they have a clan either. They're soaked in human blood, they had a vial-"
The vial which still hung from your neck limply, mostly emptied of blood. Batman's eyes narrowed a fraction, then raised to meet yours again.
"Why didn't you drink?" He demanded, "why did you run?"
"It's blood?" You argued, "I, I don't drink blood?"
Batman's face twitched, the corner of his lip twitching. His eyes scanned the blood that covered your front, drying against your clothes tacky and dark.
"That's another thing. I don't think they know that they've been turned." Red Robin saddled up next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist again. Before, his grasp had been a cage. Now, it was a crutch. Your eyelids fluttered and you let out a little groan, slumping against him as your knees trembled and threatened to give out.
"No time." Batman pulled away from you, and your head bowed forward as your vision swam with black dots. "Get to the nearest cave. Oracle," he turned away from you and Red Robin, starting to walk away, "prepare the medbay and alert Alfred."
Red Robin held tightly onto your arm, squeezing tightly as Batman shot a grappling bolt into the air and was thrust up into the night with a loud snap of his cape flattening against his back.
Then, you and Red Robin were alone. Gotham's night was oppressive all around you as the moon continued its sluggish climb up into the sky. Storm clouds gathered, but they did not obscure the moon's glow.
Adrenaline sapped from your veins and left you feeling hollow and over-warm. The pain in your neck thudded in an echo in the back of your mind, and your eyelids fluttered feverishly. Red Robin's breath was cold against your forehead as he spoke quickly, but all you could hear was a sharp ringing as you stared up at the bloody moon. The moon stared back at you, a single open eye.
Awareness came back to you slowly, like molasses being poured from a jar. Your body was heavy, every muscle warm and lax from where you were snuggled against another body. Whoever it was, they were like a furnace. Blackgate had always been so cold, the blankets thin and moth-bitten.
Cold was familiar, and it was safe. It meant you were alive another day. Warmth though...It reminded you of what safety meant before the blood moon. When you were a child and your father would put your blanket into the dryer for a few minutes to heat it up, and then tuck you in on a cold winter night. Kissing your forehead, and whispering that he loved you.
A hand pets over your hair, a slow and soothing stroke that stops just at the edge of your skull and restarts at your hairline. The hands aren't cold, cool maybe, and you let out a small noise at the disturbance on your little world of warmth and calm.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" A male voice whispers, and the hand pauses on your hairline. His thumb makes slow circles against your temple as your eyes fight to open, "it's okay, winglet. You don't need to be getting up yet."
You grunt in reply, the last drags of sleep clearing from your mind. You force your eyes open, blinking against the bleariness that coats your eyeballs. When you vision clears, and your mind finally catches up with your body, you realize that something is horribly wrong.
You're in some kind of med bay, you remember Batman saying something about that before you passed out. The walls are brick concrete and painted a light blue with a darker blue trim. There's one window, but the blinds are firmly pulled over it. The floor is linoleum white, and the only door is shut.
An IV bag dangles from a metal frame next to the bed, the thin tube connected to your wrist. Why would Vampires still have those, if they drank blood? Surely, it would've been a waste to keep perfectly good human blood for something as benign to them as a blood transfusion.
The man snuggled behind you seems to sense that you're going to bolt, because as you try to roll out of his arms and off of the bed you've found yourself in a pair of strong arms wrap around your middle.
"No, no, don't fight," he says calmly, arms not moving from their place as you firmly push and shove at his arms. It's as if they're made of lead and barely budge despite you putting all of the strength you can manage. "You were shivering in here, I needed to make sure that you were okay. It's cold out there now that it's fall, B-man would have my fangs if you ended up getting cold-blooded."
His voice is so familiar it aches, and turns into a thudding under your skin at the base of your skull. You've heard it before, but where?
"I'll let you go now, but don't roll off the bed. You're plugged in, and I don't want to have to reset your line again." The man slowly uncurls his arms from your middle, and pulls them out from under you before his front is gone from being flush against your back.
He gets off of the bed, and you shuffle to put yourself against the wall as Nightwing, the vigilante from Bludhaven, slides off of the bed and comes to a stopping crouch in front of your bed.
"What the fuck were you doing in my-" you swallow, and correct yourself, "the bed?"
Nightwing's expression is soft, pitying almost. "Just keeping you warm," he says slowly, palms facing up and towards you, "cold-blood is a very real condition for fledglings, like you."
"I'm human," you insist spitefully, sucking in a breath through your teeth at the flicker of frustration that passes by Nightwing's face, just a twitch of his brow and a tweak of his mouth. But you saw it. "I'm human," you repeat, softer this time, "I-I don't know why you think I'm not, but I am. I swear!"
Nightwing's face shifts back to pity, and he rocks back onto his heels and rests his hands on the bed, "but you're not," he whispers, his voice loud in the quiet of the medbay, "you're like us. I don't know who your sire is, or why they turned you and left you alone, or where you've been, but you need us. You need a sire."
You shook your head, tears of frustration starting to form in your eyes, "I'm not a Vampire! I'm human! Just like the rest of my-" you slap a hand over your mouth in horror as Nightwing's expression sharpens.
"Others?" He asks. You don't respond or give him any clarification, you have a feeling that he knows already. Batman and his gaggle of vigilantes are smart. They're detectives, trained to work out any bit of information they get. You can see the gears in Nightwing's head turning furiously as his face sets into firm neutrality.
You know what conclusion he's come to.
"Where are they?" His cutesy, playful, nature is gone and left behind is a brick wall. You shrink into yourself, hand cupped over your mouth to stop yourself from making any noise.
You should have never gone out, you should have begged someone to come along with you. To protect you. Now you were trapped with a monster.
"You can tell me," he leans forward, hand slowly moving across the bed as he reaches for you, "I won't be upset! I just want to help you." His hand brushes against the blanket and your toes curl.
Your eyes dart around the room and land on your backpack. A small coil of hope in your stomach gives you the foolish thought that maybe, just maybe, the tools you took out with you would still be there. Maybe you would have a chance.
"Hey."
Your eyes snap back to Nightwing, who shakes his head slightly, "don't even think about it. I know that you're scared, but if you do something stupid I'll have to react. I don't want to hurt you, but I will."
The stare down between the two of you lasts a few seconds longer. The eye contact is uncomfortable and settles under your skin in a way that feels like sandpaper scraping you from the inside out.
Sweat pools on your brow and your scalp, your pulse starting to beat so hard you can feel it in your fingers. You feel hot and flushed, your mouth is dry and your tongue is sticky.
Finally, Nightwing breaks his gaze. Not fully looking away from you, but at least freeing you from the hell that is this odd stare down. He reaches into a pocket on his utility belt and pulls out a small red bottle.
"It's time you stop behaving like this," he said, "I'm going to be as gentle as I can, but you need to drink."
You know what's in the bottle. You move to bolt but Nightwing is faster. He pounces on you like a wild animal and pins you down, his arm heavy on your neck. You choke and claw at his arm, but that's exactly the opening he's looking for.
With one hand he deftly pops open the bottles cork, and presses the bottle top to your lips. You try to struggle, to yank your head to the side, but Nightwing moves with a practice that tells you he's done this many, many, times.
He treats you like a misbehaving cat, softly shushing you as he tips the bottle forward and thin blood fills your mouth. You choke on it, trying to cough it out. Nightwing holds your chin steady, dropping the empty bottle next to your head.
He removes his arm from your neck and uses his other arm to gently stroke at your throat, mechanically forcing you to swallow. You moan at the taste before you can stop yourself, shaking as the blood coasts your tongue.
It's delicious.
The best thing you've ever tasted. Like a million of your favorite foods rolled into one, and it slides down your throat like mythical ambrosia. You cough out a tiny bit of the blood, and it flecks across Nightwing's face.
He's smiling, stroking your cheek and crooning as the blood settles heavy in your stomach. You can already feel your vision darkening, red gathering in the corners as your head starts to pound. Blood, your blood, wells up in your nose and up your throat and you choke as it spills out down your chin.
"I'll hurt for a bit," Nightwing whispers, patiently wiping away the blood as you writhe in agony, a gargling howl leaving your throat as your entire body is lit on fire. "It'll pass, and then we can get you your first proper meal."
He leans down and presses your lips together, swiping a tongue out and humming at the taste of your blood. You don't kiss back, you can only lay there and tremble as ice takes place of the fire. He kisses you until the ice leaves as well, and leaves you feeling empty.
It leaves you...Hungry.
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Hello batfam/batman fans I was talking to a friend of mine about that one time he killed Dracula
And my friend mentioned the idea of wanting a spin off comic where Batman IS a vampire
And I started to think and spiral
So concept: Batman au where he actually is a vampire, and he doesn't hide it at all, and is very open about it
And no one actually believes him
I thought of it cause in so many shows where other supers meet him for the first time they think he's a vampire
But what if they're like "there's no way he's actually a vampire, whay vampire dresses up as a bat and calls themself batman and tells everyone they're a vampire?"
It makes me think of that one post saying a vampire can pretend to be an amo kid that "pretends" to be a vampire cause who looks at that person and actually thinks they're a vampire
This could work as his Brucie persona as well
Telling everyone he's a vampire and playing up the dark rich man aesthetic, and that's hoe he got his wealth and his hoard of children and why he's so pale and hides from the sun
I feel like the Robin's would still be human but they don't have to be
I'm mostly picturing this being about the justice league, but the batfam being questioned about it and being like "Yeah he's a vampire isn't it obvious?"
And no one can tell if it's a joke or not
There could be other creatures as well like werewolves and such and yes I'm saying this cause imagine if instead of dying Jason got turned into a werewolf
