#didn’t realize i’d hit 2.5k oops

[ladytauria]

for ur ask game! would love to see a scene from “to have, to hold, to own” 👀👀

heheh

i decided to do tim's pov! it... got longer than i anticipated dfghjk also i only gave it a cursory proofread so i may have missed typos and stuff haha

also this got so long i'm linking the ask game at the top rather than the bottom like usual lmao

hope you enjoy anon!

[ fic author ask game ]

01. Write a scene from [insert fic] in another character’s POV

[main fic link]

“Dick, have you seen—” Tim stops abruptly, taking in the scene before him.

It takes entirely too long, as if his brain doesn't want to accept what his eyes show him to be true. He blinks once, twice, three times before the scene clarifies in his mind.

Jason is there, naked as the day he was born. Blue rope twines over his skin, holding him in a kneeling position while also emphasizing the shape of his chest, the dip of his hips, the swell of his ass, the thickness of his thighs. Contained and on display all at once. It's a position Tim has had him in before, though those ropes had been red.

His face hadn't been nearly as lax then, either—not even when he was deep in subspace.

Drugs? But—

"Hello, baby bird."

His gaze is drawn back to Dick. Something is—off about him. He looks the same as he always has, of course, but there's a subtle menace in the air. It's more Nightwing than Dick, but... no, that's not right either. Nightwing's menace is different.

And never directed at Tim.

There's something else, too; something niggling at the edge of his memory. He'd seen something, he thinks, when he first opened the door. But what was it—?

Jason stirs. "Timmy?"

His voice is slow, confused. It tugs at something in Tim. Something protective. Jason hardly needs his protection usually—but this isn't usually.

Something is wrong.

(But this is Dick's place, and Dick is safe. He's— Dick is safe.)

He swallows once. Twice. "Dick. What's... what's going on?" His own voice sounds almost distant. That's not good, he thinks. He needs to be here.

Dick smiles. It's the most beautiful thing Tim has ever seen. "Jason and I are just having a chat," he says. "You should join us."

"A chat." That sounds—nice. Tim enjoys talking to Dick. He enjoys talking with Jason, too. He finds himself drawing closer.

He's rewarded with Dick's presence at his side, an arm draping over his shoulders. Dick is— He's not quite as warm as usual, but his presence is solid. Comforting. "Yes," he says airily. "A chat. A tête-à-tête, if you will.”

Dick's hand drops from his shoulders. Tim doesn't have time to be disappointed, not when it finds his way to his ass instead, squeezing with intent.

Tim's breath hitches.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About Gotham, about Bruce, and, well… us. And I’ve come to a conclusion.”

Tim swallows. There's something— Something almost hypnotic about Dick's voice. His gaze darts to Jason again. Jason can't quite look back at him; his gaze is cloudy, glassy. Not quite there.

Not good, whispers the voice in his brain. You need to get out. Now.

Dick's lips brush his ear. Tim can't help his shiver. "We belong together, baby bird." Dick whispers it like it's a secret, only just loud enough for Jason to hear, too. "Us Robins. Being apart only makes us miserable. Gives Bruce more opportunities to twist things, manipulate us to his liking."

Tim opens his mouth—not to argue, necessarily, but to defend Bruce. A knee-jerk reaction. He's been working on it.

Dick beats him to it.

"Oh, all for the greater good of course. But we deserve more say, don't you think?"

Yes, of course, they do, but—

“Well, yes, but— why…” He looks at Jason again, and then back to Dick.

Dick just shrugs at him. "He's pretty."

...

What?

Tim blinks at him, vaguely aware of the way Jason's breath hitches.

"Don't you agree, baby bird? I wanted to look at him… to see what you see when you spend time with him. I know it was presumptuous, but— Well. Surely you understand the temptation.”

Tim does. Jason's gorgeous, especially like this; wrapped tight in rope and trusting Tim to take care of him, to fulfill his deepest desires without ever stepping too far.

Drugs are too far.

"I... Dick—"

"Shh." Dick cuts him off. "I asked you a question. Don't you think Jason is pretty?"

"Of course I do."

Jason's breath hitches again—followed by a whimper. Tim loves that sound. These days, it's his and his alone to hear... or it should be. But Dick is here, impossibly beautiful with a voice like a siren, clouding Tim's head, making it so hard to fucking think—

He shakes his head, hard enough it almost hurts. "Dick... I'm serious. What's going on?" His voice is more solid, sure; less like it's coming through water. He searches Dick's face. He doesn't know what he expects to find, only that Dick has to know something.

Dick cups his face. His hands are cool. People are never cool when they touch Tim. "What's going on is... I love you." Tim's heartbeat ratchets up at the confession. "Both of you. All of you, all of my Robins. And I want to keep you safe, and close, and mine."

There's something almost like a growl on that last word—Tim can't help the way he shivers.

The predatory light in Dick's eyes gleams brighter. "You want that too, don't you?"

Dick's whisper is one of the most tempting propositions Tim has ever been offered. "I— Dick." He swallows. His eyes flutter.

His head is getting cloudy again.

"I know," Dick says, voice dripping with sympathy. "Come on, Timmy. It's alright. Come sit with us."

Tim looks at him, searching his face again. He's always thought Dick was beautiful, but he's never been this beautiful, has he? Perfect, seemingly unblemished, looking like he just stepped off the cover of a magazine? Tim shakes his head again, harder, his hand coming up to clutch his temple.

It hurts to fight off the fog.

But he has to.

He has to.

"Shh, baby bird," Dick whispers, drawing him even closer, pressing his mouth against Tim's skin. "Let it happen. I’ve got you. Both of your big brothers are here.”

Tim shudders. There's a part of him, one not nearly as small as he'd like it to be, that wants to give in. But—

He rips himself out of Dick's arms.

He can't.

He can't.

He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes as he stumbles backward, hoping that the pressure will help ground him. "Stop it," he snaps. "Stop— Stop it. Whatever you're doing to me—to him."

“I’m not doing anything, Timmy." Its a lie. He's lying. Tim doesn't know why but Dick is lying. This can't be Dick. It has to be—mind control, maybe. Or something pretending to be him. It does his mannerisms well, but not as well as it could. Dick is never so still. “Jason is here because he wants to be here. Isn’t that right, Jason?”

Jason's him is distinctly agreeing. "He kissed me," he reports. His voice is—dreamy. "My neck. It felt really nice, Sir."

God.

Normally the title would make Tim feel hot under the collar, but now— It's ice down his spine. A welcome chill, though. It makes things a little clearer.

“Don’t you want to join us?”

"Stop it," Tim snaps again, mouth twisting. "Let— Let us go. Dick... This isn't you."

“Oh, Timmy. This is me. I’m just finally doing what I’ve always wanted.” Dick draws closer—Tim draws back. "Please don't fight me, baby bird. I don't want to hurt you."

Dick keeps advancing.

Tim slows his retreat. As soon as he gets in arm's length, Tim lashes out with a fist.

Dick dodges, leaving Tim to stumble. He curses at himself; he's too off-balance for this.

He half-expects Dick to trip him, but instead, he manages to right himself. At the same time, he hears the door click shut behind him.

Fuck.

There's still the windows. Tim doesn't have his gear on him; he'd brought it in a backpack, but— It's fine, that's fine. Dick's apartment is near the roof. He can climb up, get to the stairs. Dick could follow him, but that would mean leaving Jason unguarded, and— Jason might be drugged right now, but, once he's separated from... whatever influence Dick has over him, he'll be able to think more clearly.

And if Dick doesn't follow him—if he stays with Jason—

Then Tim will be back. With back-up.

Or, well. Probably not back here. Dick's too smart for that; he'd leave. But Tim would track him down. He won't stop until he knows for sure Jason is safe and Dick is— Whatever needs to happen to Dick.

“I… I don’t know what happened to you, Dick, but— I swear I’m going to fix it," he promises.

Dick doesn't look discouraged by that in the slightest.

"What's... What's going on?" Jason again. He sounds clearer now. Tim can't risk looking at him, but Dick does. He takes that moment to creep backwards a little more, toward the window.

As much as Tim wants to alert him to the fact they're in danger— Jason is so loopy, his distress wouldn't be productive. He needs to stay calm until his moment to escape comes.

"Don't worry, Jay." His voice softens. "Everything is going to be okay. I've got this."

The last part is more to himself.

Dick beams at him—Tim glares back.

They circle each other slowly. It becomes clear Dick isn't going to make the first move. Fine.

Tim lunges at him.

It's not the first time he's fought against Dick. They spar all the time—or they used to—and well. The nature of vigilantism means they're exposed to all kinds of substances; sometimes they end up on opposite sides through no fault of their own. Tim knows how Dick fights. But there's something different about the way he moves, now. He's faster, stronger. Tim's hits land, but they don't seem to do the damage he expects.

Tim realizes, even before his back hits the ground, how this fight is going to go.

That doesn't stop him from trying valiantly, to get away from Dick's grip. "Let—let me go." His voice cracks around the last word.

He can feel Jason's eyes on them. He's only inches away from them right now. If Tim's hands weren't trapped, he could reach out and touch him.

This time, Tim can't stop himself from looking at him. Jason's eyes are still cloudy, but less so than before. He's fighting. Of course he is. Jason fights like most people breathe. He doesn't give up. Even if Tim fails now, they'll— They'll be okay.

He hopes.

Dick shifts on him. His cock presses against Tim's stomach. It's hard, hot, even through the fabric of his pants. Tim stills.

Dick grips Tim's wrists in one hand. The other cups his cheek. The show of strength is— Tim swallows. A new picture is painting itself in his head, and he doesn't like what it shows. Because if it's right...

This is Dick.

And he's beyond Tim's ability to save.

He'd called the killer Jason and he were tracking a vampire as a joke. He should have known better. All the crazy shit they've seen, it was only a matter of time before they crossed paths with a real one.

But...

Did it have to be Dick?

"No more fighting, Tim," he says gently. It's not a request. "Let me take care of you."

Tim's nostrils flare. Oh. Fuck him. He snaps his teeth, nearly catching Dick's thumb.

Dick frowns. “That wasn’t very nice. Where are your manners, Timmy? You’re usually such a polite boy.”

Tim snarls, thrashing against Dick's grip. Even one-handed, it holds strong. "Fuck you."

“What am I going to do with you, baby bird?” Dick asks, humming thoughtfully. “It’s not very polite to barge in, especially not when I’m trying to spend time with little wing. I neglected him, you know. You got all the attention, baby bird. I don’t see why you have to be such a brat about sharing.”

About—

"I— I'm not..." Tim shakes his head. He can feel the anger coursing through his veins, heating his body. "That's not why I'm upset and you know it," he snaps.

Dick raises his eyebrow. “Isn’t it? You never have liked to share me, baby bird. Remember how you acted when Damian came? You threw such a fit!”

It would have been kinder if Dick had slapped him. How dare he.

Tim reels back like Dick had slapped him. “I— You’re twisting things!”

“Am I?” Dick counters, his voice low. “Just admit it, baby bird. You don’t know how to handle sharing my attention. It’s partially my fault, I know… I indulged you for too long. You were just too cute!” He boops Tim’s nose, causing Tim to blink rapidly. “Don’t worry, Timmy. Your big brothers are here. I’m sure Jason will be glad to help teach you a few lessons about sharing.”

The words are spoken so lowly, so sweetly that Tim— For a second, he almost buys into them. Almost lets himself be lulled into belief that that's all this is; some petty scrap between himself and Dick over Jason.

That second passes quickly.

His struggles renew—harder this time. Dick's grip loosens, and Tim doesn't waste time, forgoing grace for speed as he scrambles to his feet and makes toward the window.

"I'm sorry, Jay," Tim says over his shoulder, voice cracking again. "I'll come back for—"

A sudden strike to the back of his neck cuts him off. His body crumbles under him—arms catch him before he hits the ground. Dick lifts him easily.

"Tim?" There's a panicked note to Jason's voice now, and if Tim could move—

If Tim could move he'd already be gone.

“It’s okay, Jay,” Dick soothes immediately. Tim glares at him. “Timmy was mistaken. He doesn’t have anywhere else to be today, so all three of us are going to spend some time together. That sounds nice, doesn’t it, little wing?”

Jason hums. It's agreement, but there's doubt laced in it.

Please, please, Tim thinks. Figure out what's going on. I know you can, Jay. Between the two of us we can get out of this.

Dick sets Tim down by the bed. He pulls out a box. There's nothing good in there, Tim's sure. Sure enough... Dick pulls out more of that blue rope, the same kind that's binding Jason. He doesn't bother undressing Tim the normal way. He just rips right through Tim's clothes—Tim's leg twitches slightly. He can't kick him, but oh, he would sure like to.

Dick makes quick work of binding him in the same position as Jason—with one exception. He secures Tim's hands behind his head rather than his back.

And then Dick gets out a muzzle.

Tim's eyes go wide—but he can't fight it, can't do anything at all as Dick secures the bit inside the muzzle between his teeth and then locks the contraption behind his head.

He pats the side of Tim's face when he finishes—condescending.

The anger burns. It fills his chest, making it tight, heavy; there's no way to express it, not when the nerve strike is still keeping him limp, pliable.

When he gets out of this...

When he gets out of this, he's going to make Dick regret this.