#vampire!tim

[occudo]

More vampire Tim and hunter Gerry anyone?

[jpeg-dot-jpeg]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Teen, Complete, 3.8k words

Summary:

“There’s my favorite bloodsucker.” Stephanie’s smile was blinding when he swung the front door open. “I’m your only bloodsucker,” Tim replied flatly. He waved at Stephanie’s mom as she drove past the large fountain in front of the manor and headed back down the drive before ushering Stephanie in and shutting the door. “How are the new pinchers coming in?” she asked. Then, without giving him the chance to actually respond, grabbed his face in both her hands and dug her thumbs into the hinges of his jaw prompting it to drop open. “Awww, they’re so cute! And tiny! Are you sure you’re going to be able to feed with those little things?” Tim batted her hands away, huffing. “Yes.”

[crypterion-moon]

Posted this to my other account by mistake, don't feel like taking it down so I'll put it up here too

[iphoenixrising]

DickTim Week Day 4: Dark!Dick and Vampire!Tim

So. So. *Steeples fingers* this may or may not be the fic for you. Yet another combination prompt because the people on the Capes and Coffee Discord are fucking enablers. You know who you are.

Warnings for: captivity, blood-letting, missing-in-time Bruce

The hidden bunker is outside the city limits of Gotham, a perfect place to stay off the grid.

Officer Grayson makes the drive with the radio on WKKG, All Gotham, All the Time. He moves his head to the beat of the pop song blaring over the line.

The outside of the abandoned gas station looks positively deserted and if they were any more rural, tumble weeds would be rolling around the decrepit gas pumps.

Officer Grayson parks around the back of the building out of sight and grabs the paper bags from the passenger side, holds his cup of coffee in the same hand, whistles to himself as he gets out of the police cruiser.

A complex locking system on a seemingly outdated walk-in freezer opens up to an elevator that is decidedly the newest fixture in the place.

He hums the chorus of the pop song from the radio on the way down, small smile on his face reflecting back at him from the mirrored doors.

The underground is a completely different world.

Apparently constructed to be a bunker, the basement is lead-lined and spacious with all processes set-up to stay off the grid, perfect for his needs. He has a separate power supply, a separate HVAC system, a security system with nearly imperceptible cameras to make sure no one, no one gets close enough to the property without alerting him immediately.

And he certainly doesn’t want anyone finding his personal mission here.

Officer Grayson puts one of the grocery bags down on a table littered with notebooks and read-outs he’d left the last time after he’d gotten samples. He sips on his coffee as he walks around the first room, lit only by the emergency lights at the top of the low-slung ceiling, and turns on the power, turns on the lights in the rest of the bunker.

The beeps behind him are the locks resetting on the elevator, the only way out.

Dick is still humming when he passes into the next room, blocked on either end with thick, metal doors complete with a complex locking mechanism and impressive alarm system. The many tables in this room are filled with laboratory equipment, a biotechnician’s playground.

Half-completed analyses are still running on the impressive screens mounted overhead, status bar at 68%.

Five-gallon buckets under the tables with black Sharpie denote chemical names with dates scribbled hastily below.

Dick sips his coffee as he looks up at the running totals, makes mental notes, compares previous tests and results.

It’s discouraging, but Dick just sighs to himself. Of all vigilantes in Gotham, he’s the optimist, and he knows that each failure will just bring him closer and closer to success. He just can’t give up.

Bruce is counting on them.

With his coffee and bag in one hand, he lets the analysis churn, and enters his code in the next door, then places a palm print on the pad outside. Leans down so his eye scan can be completed.

Unlike the other rooms, the lights come on the second the door fully unlocks and opens to allow Dick entrance.

The reason for that is to turn on the intense sun lamps to further weaken the figure strapped down to the gurney in the center of the room, strategically lessening the possibility of an attack.

Dick puts the bag and his coffee down on the only table in the room.

“Sorry I didn’t come yesterday. Rupert Thorne had a big shipment planned and we were up late tracking it,” his voice is light and cheery, his smile wide and white. He comes to the side of the gurney, takes note of the slight burning smell that always seems to permeate the room no matter how much he tries to avoid it by making sure there’s always something between skin and pure silver. Struggling dislodges whatever he uses, so the result is the smell of burning flesh.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment, looking down at Timmy’s closed eyes and painfully pale face.

His frown deepens when Tim Drake rolls his head over to face the wall instead.

Silver chains wrap his arms, legs, neck, and torso, rendering him utterly immobile. Holy relics hang over the gurney as an added safety measure. He’s completely naked under a flimsy sheet.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” He asks softly. “I’m letting Alfred pick up Dami so I can spend some extra time with you today.”

IVs are grotesquely hooked into each major artery, set on slow drain. The multiple blood bags hooked under the gurney show the slow trickle as the bags fill to a crawl.

Tim’s violet-blue eyes crack open a sliver, but he doesn’t look away from the wall, away from freedom.

“That isn’t very nice,” Dick’s tone stays soft, yet firm. “You know what I’m trying to do here.”

The sound of Tim trying to swallow is heard over the soft mechanical beeping, the hum of working equipment. “You know how important you are to this, Timmy. I don’t like how you keep refusing to be a team player.” Dick pauses just a moment, eyes narrow, “is this still about Damian being Robin now? Because you know how many times we’ve been over this.”

Tim closes his eyes again, a muscle in his jaw jumps.

“Well, I think you’ve been sulking about it long enough,” Dick brusquely throws the sheet out of the way to show IVs, burns, and the network of complicated blood vessels below deathly pale skin. “You knew even before you went to Iraq my choices were the best for everyone, not just you.”

Dick checks all the leads, makes sure the drip is slow. He doesn’t so much as lift up the solid silver chains and nudge them with the cloth he keeps underneath, the point of it is to try and keep Tim’s skin from burning, temporarily cauterizing his veins and killing the supply. The last time the chains were displaced this much, Dick had made the mistake of lifting one, giving Tim enough power to bare his fangs and lunge. Since then, the chains have stayed put, only shuffled around a little.

“And if you would have just listened to me and stayed in Gotham, you wouldn’t have been caught by vampires in the first place. You know that, don’t you? If you would have worked with us at home, Ra’s would have never taken that much of an interest and led them right to you. Heck, you might still be alive and have your spleen.”

Shaking his head in frustration at all the events from last year when Bruce’s body was brought back, when the Battle for the Cowl had forced him to raise his hand against Jason again and break his heart over Little Wing again, when he knew Tim didn’t need any more mentorship, didn’t need the support and encouragement Damian did after losing their father, and the ultimate decision to let Tim decide his own future after Robin, when seeing Tim six months after his disappearance as a vampire in a cape, all of it had made the choice on how to handle this situation.

How to fix everything that had gone so horribly wrong.

Do what he had to do, try disseminating the secrets of immortality so they could bring Bruce back.

And like this, Tim is going to help him do it.

“But it’s okay,” he’s back to smiling again, “we’ve worked past all that, haven’t we, Timmy?” Dick is satisfied all the leads are fine and the slow flow unimpeded. He steps back to the bag on the table.

In one hand is a pint of O Positive. In the other, a Krispy Kreme with sprinkles.

Both their favorites.

“C’mon,” he cajoles after taking a bite of his donut, “it’s one of Steph’s extra pints. I know you’re going to like it.”

He holds the oozing bag to Tim’s averted mouth and patiently waits, nibbles on his donut in the other hand.

“Why don’t,” and the tone is hoarse, faint because Timmy mostly doesn’t really talk to him anymore, “you just kill me?”

Dick pauses mid-chew, blinking down at the eyes filling with bloody tears, the hitch in the chest that doesn’t really move anymore.

Dick swallows the bite, suddenly more like ash than icing in his mouth. “You know I can’t do that,” is more harsh than he means. “We don’t kill. Not even vampires.”

“Then let me go.”

“Can’t let you go out and kill people either, Tim, and I need the supply for testing.”

“This is torture. This is fucking torture and you don’t even give a shit about me anymore–”

With a flick of his fingers, a crucifix falls right on Tim’s chest, and the screams are awful, horrible, but that is probably never going to outweigh the smell.

By the time Dick finishes his donut, Tim is weakly writhing in agony and the screams have died down to soft whimpers, mouth open to show those killer fangs.

He dusts his hands off and pulls on a glove from the Nightwing suit under his uniform, gingerly lifts the holy item off, grimaces when tissue and flesh stick to it.

“Kill me,” Timmy whimpers. “Just fucking kill me.”

Dick scoffs and takes the chance to lean down, presses his mouth to Tim’s forehead. “You know I can’t lose anyone else,” is the softest of reprimands. “Don’t worry. Once I just figure this out, we’ll get Bruce back and he’ll help us reverse the turning. Before you know it, this will seem like just a bad dream.”

Dick presses another kiss to each eyelid, talking softly against the deceptively soft yet immortal skin. “And when you’re back to yourself, we can be together again. I’ll take care of you just like I used to, promise.”

Dick leans back up with a small smile on his face and familiar fondness in his eyes. He holds the bag up to Tim’s mouth again, ignores the red tears streaming down the pale face. “We’ll get there, okay? I’m close to the answers we need. I just need a little more time. But, I have to have samples to work with, which means you to drink, Timmy.”

Like usual, the pink tracks down his face stand out starkly in the false sunlight when Tim finally gives in and punctures the bag with his fangs.

[r0bbyn]

tinny timmy say “Im gonna stay in the floor until you fear me” 

[crypterion-moon]

Werewolf and a vampire with unconventional wings.

[iphoenixrising]

Vampire Tim having to deal with dick/Jason having a biting kink

Hi babe.

This is short and a little naughty. Beware!

**

Even though Timmy runs cooler than a human, even though his heart doesn’t beat, his chest doesn’t rise and fall, even if the fangs drop down occasionally when he’s riding the edges of hunger, he can still leech extra warmth from the bodies writhing around him, hot with blood thrumming through their veins, skin so attractively pink.

It’s really no wonder he can’t keep his mouth or his hands to himself. 

And it’s an easy thing since he’s fallen from proverbial grace. 

The last thing with Ra’s was really the worst situation ever, and when it came down to dying because of whatever the League of Assassins drugged him with or drinking untainted blood straight from the source–

well, Dick and Jay wouldn’t let him keep refusing them. The instincts of the vampire took over before he died (again), and he drank enough from them both to survive the poison. 

Somehow he kept his soul (because really, not even Constantine and Zatanna could answer him on that one), but the very big downside is that he could only go so long with synthetic blood when the hunger needed the real deal. 

Color him surprised when Nightwing and the Red Hood stepped up voluntarily, giving some stupid excuse when, really, enhanced senses now.

(Smelling how aroused Jay got the first time he bit, he took, he sucked until he was blood drunk and sated. How much it all made sense when Dick’s eyes dilated, the small hitch in, “yes…yes, use me. Timmy, anytime you need it, you just need to come to me.”“Us, Big Wing. Come ta find us, you feel me, Red?”)

Who knew it would lead them here?

Where he’s laying between Dick’s thighs, fangs filling his mouth. With the first drink, his cheeks are pink, his cock hard against his thigh, throbbing pleasantly, and Jay is sprawled beside them, limbs akimbo, body still trembling, chest heaving and eyes wonderfully half-mast, pupils blown.

The puncture marks at his throat are still red and raw. 

All they needed was for Dick to have a matching pair, right here on the femoral. 

Hands desperately clench in his hair when he licks so slowly up, lets the tip of his fang trail up the vein in Dick’s red, weeping erection, makes sure he’s careful not to nick when the acrobat under him arches, almost screams.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease, stop teasing!” Is desperate enough for him to look up the length of beautiful taunt muscles, sweaty, pink, skin and catch the stark need right there in Dick’s blue, blue eyes. 

Tim can’t help but smirk, lean in to press a chaste kiss to the tip of Dick’s cock without looking away.

“The real question here,” he starts smoothly, hands sliding up the insides of Dick’s thighs, “is who is going to be able to fuck me after I’ve bitten you?”

A strangled groan is Jason’s interest, hand going to his half-hard erection to start working himself back up, ta give their Bird the right fuckin’ he deserves. 

“I gotchu covered, Timmers,” half-hoarse from screaming out when the bite made his come so fucking hard, Jay works his hips a little, feels the strength coming back ta his limbs at the thought of opening up Timmy while he’s warm with blood and every nerve ending is alive. “Wanna see ya make Dick all kinds a’ fucked out when he gets yer bite, yeah? After ya make ‘im feel it, then we’s can have a lil’ fun.”

“Yes. Yes, please,” because his body is already reacting to Jay’s blood, the perpetual numbness wearing off, his senses even sharper than normal, and he’s so hard because they smell so good together, feel so fucking perfect under him–

–that he pulls Dick to the edge of the bed by his thighs, throws them over his shoulders.

And bites.

The second his teeth sink in deep, Dick clenches around him, the yell ripped from him when he comes.

But the thing about being bitten by a vampire?

The orgasm doesn’t stop until the vampire has finished feeding.

So the next five minutes of heavenly mouthful after mouthful, Dick is writhing under him, beautifully breathless, trembling and moaning when wave after wave of seemingly endless pleasure lights up every nerve, races up and down his spine, overwhelming and unimaginable.

His fists are tangled in the sheets, head tossing back and forth until the oldest Robin’s eyes are spilling over and fuck it’s too much, he’ll die if it doesn’t stop soon…

With a last drink, the Hunger in him finally quenched, Tim pulls back, fangs bared and eyes glowing blue with power. It takes a few seconds for him to calm down enough, to actually breathe and taking panting breaths since he’s had enough for his lungs to work, and get himself under control so he doesn’t go to the other thigh and bite again.

He licks over the puncture marks, sucks just a little, the vigilante under him suffering with a final, dry orgasm that is literally all he can take, and Dick’s muscles go completely slack under him.

(It’s the hottest thing in the universe, see Dick in a partial sex coma, and Jason pretty much incoherent because of things like bite kinks and this as the best ending to that little sitch.)

He rises up, skin getting pink, and raw power making him more etherial than the usual being a fucking vampire. 

Jay licks his lips, hand still moving absently over his cock, working pre-come out of the tip. “Beautiful, Sweets. Lookit ya now. Feelin’ good finally?”

“Yes,” and Tim leans down over Dick’s quaking body, presses a gentle kiss to that mouth and strokes his face, looks closely at the blown pupils, makes sure he didn’t take too much (the worst fear is now losing control with them, and that thought haunts him more than the fuck-ups that got him turned in the first place). “I can’t even tell you.”“Mmhm. S’all good. Then howz ‘bout we let Dickie get his brains back what ya sucked outta ‘im, and ya come ta me, sit right on my face here where it’s nice n’ comfortable. Lemme open ya up so’s I can fuck ya good. Gonna do that f’ me, Timmy?”

And if his knees give a knock, well, he’s vampire enough that neither of them would have to know.

[crypterion-moon]

Twisted reflection

Tim knew it was him, a twisted and darker form of himself. Teeth and a smile that belonged to someone who was no longer merciful. He didn't know what happened, and he didn't know what drove the other to this point. But he knows, as he stared into blue eyes, perhaps the only they shared. He is old, he holds secrets and they were one and the same.

Tiamareshka couldn't help but smile, as he looked into the eyes of soneone he once used to be. It was so long ago. His teeth are showing, he should stop but the irony is too amusing. Who, the other him asked. He thinks about telling, show him the pain and torture he suffered. The neglect and betrayal which he remembers like yesterday, but he doesn't say. Only the assurance that he will look after him. Innocence should be treasured.