SYNOPSIS : After a traumatising performance, you seek refuge in the arms of your childhood lover— Dick Grayson. He promises warmth and safety from the masked phantom who haunts your every move. Hidden in the shadows, Jason Todd watches—unseen, undone, torn between love and vengeance ( PHANTOM OF THE OPERA AU)
WARNINGS : Yandere Behaviour, Psychological Manipulation, Emotional Dependency, Themes of Isolation, Implied Stalking, Controlling and Obsessive Behaviour.
A/N : was playing my record of the phantom of the opera and all my thoughts went to jason,, and dicks there too ig
INTERACTIONS AND REBLOGS ENCOURAGED!
DICK GRAYSON
The night hung heavy over the rooftop, Gotham’s restless skyline stretched out beneath a silver-spattered sky, a vast sea of flickering shadows and distant lights that blurred like stars caught in a smoky haze. A cold breeze sliced through the city’s jagged edges, ghosting past you, but you barely noticed. Your skin felt aflame with something far more raw, something sharp and urgent thrumming beneath your ribs—a frantic, racing pulse that refused to be quieted.
His arms encircled you, steady and unyielding, the warmth of his body a fierce contrast to the biting chill. The snow-dusted ledge behind you cradled the two of you like a fragile barrier against the darkness, flakes drifting down like frozen tears settling on your trembling shoulders. Dick’s chest rose and fell rhythmically against your back. His fingers tangled in your hair, a soft, grounding touch that startled you, wrenching your scattered senses back from the edge of panic.
“You’re safe now,” his voice rumbled low and rough—like gravel smoothed by rain, steady and sure. “I swear I won’t let him near you again.”
You swallowed hard, your throat tight, eyes flickering down to the city’s glowing mosaic far below, but the terror pounding in your chest drowned out everything else. Your breath hitched as you whispered, voice fragile and shaking, “He was there… the shadow in my dressing room… it was him. He knows me, Dick. It’s like he’s been watching my every move—”
Your hands trembled at your sides, your fingers curling and uncurling with a desperate, restless energy that you couldn’t quite control.
“Nobody will find you,” Dick promised, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “I’ve got you.”
The steady pressure of his arms tightened, pulling you closer until your back pressed against his chest, a shield of warmth and protection. You twisted slightly to meet his gaze—deep and storm-dark, swirling with a fierce protectiveness that sent shivers down your spine, both chilling and comforting you at once. His eyes were a tempest, wild yet tethered solely to you, and you found your scattered panic shifting, distracted by the intensity of his hold.
Your chest heaved with ragged breaths, heart still hammering wildly but no longer alone. His grip was the anchor you hadn’t realized you needed, as though holding you tight could lock out the shadows that chased you.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said, voice softening to a desperate caress. “Not when I’m here.”
His hands slid down, cupping your face with reverence, thumbs brushing the faint tremor beneath your eyes. His touch was a tether, pulling you from the edge of panic.
“You’re not alone anymore. I’ve been here the whole time—just waiting for you.”
The words wrapped around you like silk. You trembled beneath the weight of them.
“Dick…” your voice barely a breath.
His forehead pressed to yours, the heat of him searing where skin met skin. “Let me be your refuge,” he whispered. “Your shelter from the storm. I’ll protect you. You don't have to be afraid anymore.”
His eyes searched yours—blue pools deep and endless, desperate and unwavering.
“All I ask is that you let me love you.”
The plea cracked open something fragile inside you, hope and dread tangled in equal measure. Leaning into his touch, eyes closed as you replied “You know I do.”
“You don’t have to go back to that stage,” he murmured, voice lowering to a growl. “You don’t have to sing for him. You don’t have to sing for anyone but yourself… or me.”
His lips brushed the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll give you everything. The world, if I could. I’ll give you silence, or music—whatever you want—if only you’ll stay.”
You tried to pull away, to speak, but his hands were already at the small of your back, anchoring you like iron chains woven of tenderness.
“Please,” he breathed, voice fracturing into something raw and pleading. “Anywhere you go, let me be with you.”
The desperation beneath his words clung to you, suffocating and affectionate all at once.
“All I ask…” he repeated, voice steady as a hammer blow, “is that you stay.”
JASON TODD stood high above the rooftop, cloaked in shadow and falling snow, as though the night itself sought to veil him. Not even the stars dared illuminate him, as if the night itself conspired to keep his presence hidden.
Jason had followed you from the opera house in silence, his movements fluid, slipping through catwalks and side doors. He knew every brick of this city, every passage, every place light dared not reach. And yet, he hadn’t anticipated the ache that would bloom in his chest as he watched you ascend beside him.
Dick Grayson. The golden boy.
And you—his muse—had gone to him willingly.
Now Jason stood above, unseen but burning, as you trembled in another man’s arms. His gloved fingers curled tight around the hilt of his knife—unused but always there. The mask over his face shifted with each breath, a cracked scarlet-red half-thing clinging to him. And still, it wasn’t enough to hide the devastation in his eyes.
He drank in the sight of you, shoulders drawn tight, lashes dusted with snow, lips parted with panic. You were afraid, but not of him. Not of the one in the mirror who had taught you how to sing, who had given you that voice when no one else saw you. Not of the one who had sheltered you in the deep, beneath judgment and cruelty, beneath the world that had forsaken you.
He had given you everything.
And yet now… you turned to Dick. You leaned into him.
Jason’s eyes darkened beneath the mask, his breath quickening with the weight of betrayal, heartbreak, and something deeper, something violent. The city bustled beneath him, distant and cold, but Jason could only see you, soft and glowing in the cold, all he could hear was your voice saying “You know I do,” and Jason’s breath caught in his throat.
You had meant those words once, for him.
The wind tore through the rooftop, lifting the edge of your coat, catching in your hair. You looked soft. A light Jason had protected from the world’s cruelty. Now you stood in the arms of a man who only saw you because Jason had carved the spotlight around you.
He watched as Dick lowered his head, pressing his brow to yours, hands possessive and tender in equal measure.
It made Jason sick.
He took a step back, deeper into the dark, the edges of his cloak merging with shadow. Snow tangled in his hair, clung to his lashes, melted against the heat of fury blooming beneath his skin.
“I gave you your voice. I gave you music. And you—”
His voice broke entirely.
“You gave it away.”
Below, laughter and light belonged to them. Above, Jason stood in a silence that stretched like a grave. The snow fell heavier now, silent and unrelenting. You and Dick remained unaware, two figures locked in a private world of heat and whispers. But Jason’s world was cold.
every sukuna fucker is a borderline croc fucker. every toji fucker is borderline shanks fucker. every gojo fucker is borderline sanji fucker. every geto fucker is borderline ace fucker.
Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.
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