F41ry

Looking at him like he’s crazy, you shake your head no, “I appreciate it but-”

“It’s no big deal; I don’t actually live there or anything. As I said it’s a safe house, a backup just in case. Why don’t you think about it? I can take you out to eat while you do- my treat.”

You give him an odd look but give in. You could honestly use some company, and you are fairly sure he won’t harm you due to the whole good guy vigilante thing he’s got going on. The food is a great bonus though.

 Munching on the food Red Hood handed you, he asks, “How’d you end up with friends like them?”

“I thought they were nice. Guess I was just lonely.”

The both of you talked a bit more- longer than you both would have thought. And when it came time for you to decide where to go, you chose the safe house.

It was nothing grand but it wasn’t bad either. It was comfortable and you had no trouble falling asleep once he left. He even left his number in case anything happened or if you just wanted to talk. Which you did- a lot.

It took you about two week to find another place. When you texted him the news he didn’t respond. You thought it was a bit weird but you didn’t know him for too long. You just chalked it up to an emergency.

An hour later, he arrived at the safe house, where you currently resided, with a small gift basket. “I know you haven’t known me for too long but It feels like we’ve known each other much longer. I’d- If you’re ok with it-” He stops himself as reaches up to his helmet, slowly taking it off.

“I- you don’t- it’s ok-” As you give up on your sentence you cover your eyes. Smooth gloves gently take them away from your face. Feeling yourself heat up, you take a step back; he was close- too close. And he was good looking.

“I’m Jason.” He was still holding on to your hands, a bit tight but not enough to hurt.

Nodding to the gift basket he finally lets go, urging you to look through it. It was filled with different types of cologne and a couple of different books. You go to pick up a book- it looked to be hand made, but he stops you and hands you one of the colognes instead, “I didn’t know what smells you like but I think you might like this.”

Taking it, you spray it on your wrist before smelling it. “It does smell quite nice.”

When you say that you can see him relax. “Thank you. I honestly don’t know how I’d be doing if it weren’t for you.”

Smiling at you he shakes his head, “You would have been fine.” He’d have made sure of it.

You roll your eyes. Something feels different.

As you reach for the book you originally reached for, you notice that you feel a bit sluggish.

“I think something wrong with me Jason.” You say as you open the book.

“Nothing could ever be wrong with you.”

The book is filled with logs, poems, and even a few blurry pictures. All of it relating to you. Some looked to be from way before you met him.

“Jason?”

Now, noticing the lack of space between you two, you try to move away but he wraps his arms around you.

“I’ve-… I’ve only ever watched you from afar. I finally got a chance to get close to you- I can’t let you leave just yet. We’ve barely gotten to spend time with each other.”

“Jason- let go.” The energy expended from trying to get out from his grip only hinders you further. Your movements become slower, you feel so very tired.

“I can take care of you; you won’t have to worry about anything or anyone hurting you anymore. I promise. Just let it happen- it’ll be alright.”

With betrayal written all over your face and your vision steadily going out, silent tears fall down your face as he hugs you tightly.

“You’ll love it. You’ll love me. I know you will.”

Not going to lie I struggled with this. I restarted it like 5 different times lmao. I wanted to keep it as a one shot as well which made it a bit harder since with established characters I have v i s i o n s (random day dream scenarios that are very loosely connected) but we must try anyways. I hope you enjoyed it- perhaps in the future I can expand on this further. For now though I just wanted to see if I'd be able to complete a request.

Dividers by @ diviniyae

No ai use/training allowed

Jason twisted the cap off the bottle too hard, water sloshing. “The usual. He thinks I’m too violent. Too reckless. That I’m ‘not helping the mission’ by actually doing what needs to be done.” He took a long drink, then slammed the bottle down on the counter. “Like he’s any better. Like he didn’t spend years following Bruce’s orders like a good little soldier. Now he’s lecturing me about mercy? Fuck him.”

His voice was rising, edged with that familiar anger that always simmered just under the surface. You knew this version of Jason — the one who lashed out when the world reminded him he was the damaged one, the replaced one, the failure who came back wrong.

You stepped closer, careful not to crowd him. “He’s worried about you. That’s all.”

“Worried?” Jason laughed — short, bitter. “He’s worried I’ll go too far. Like I’m the monster in the family. Like I didn’t die for this city. Like I didn’t crawl out of my own grave just to keep fighting when no one else would.”

He turned away from you, bracing his hands on the counter, head bowed. His shoulders were shaking slightly — not from cold, but from the effort of holding everything in.

You reached out, resting a gentle hand on his back. “Jay…”

He jerked away from your touch like it burned. “Don’t. Not right now. I don’t need you trying to fix me too. I’m not some broken thing you can patch up with tea and pretty words.”

The words stung, but you didn’t flinch. You knew him. You knew this was the anger talking — the fear talking. The part of him that still believed he was too damaged to be loved.

You stepped back, giving him space, but you didn’t leave. “I’m not trying to fix you. I’m just here. Because I love you. Even when you’re like this.”

He laughed again, hollow. “Yeah? Well maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe Dick’s right. Maybe I’m too far gone. Maybe you’d be better off with someone who doesn’t come home covered in blood and rage every night.”

Your chest tightened. You hated when he got like this - when he pushed you away because he was scared you’d finally see the worst in him and leave.

You moved closer again, slower this time. “I’m not going anywhere. I knew who you were when I fell in love with you. The anger. The violence. The parts you hate. I love all of it. Because it’s you.”

He turned then, eyes wet and furious and broken all at once. “You shouldn’t. I’m not good for you. I’m not good for anyone. I snap at you. I shut you out. I—”

You stepped into his space, wrapping your arms around his waist before he could pull away again. He tensed, every muscle rigid, like he was fighting the urge to run.

“I know,” you whispered against his chest. “And I still choose you. Every day. Even on the bad ones.”

Jason stood there for a long moment, breathing hard. Then, like a dam breaking, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you so tight it almost hurt. His face buried in your hair, shoulders shaking as the anger finally gave way to the exhaustion underneath.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know why I do this. I get so angry and I take it out on you and I hate myself for it. You’re the only good thing I have and I keep trying to push you away because I’m terrified you’ll finally realize I’m not worth it.”

You held him tighter, one hand stroking his back, the other cradling the back of his head. “You are worth it. You’re worth everything. You’re my Jason. The one who comes home to me. The one who makes me feel safe even when the world is falling apart. The one who tries so hard even when it hurts.”

He let out a shaky breath, arms squeezing you like you might disappear. “I love you,” he whispered, voice cracking. “So much it scares me. I don’t know how to do this right. But I’m trying. For you. I’m always trying for you.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then his neck, then his jaw. “I know. And I love you too. All of you. The angry parts. The scared parts. The soft parts you only show me. All of it.”

Jason pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes red-rimmed but softer now. He cupped your face with both hands, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn’t realized you’d shed.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, voice rough.

“You do,” you replied, leaning up to kiss him softly. “Every day.”

He kissed you back — slow and deep, full of all the love he didn’t know how to say out loud. His hands stayed gentle on your face, holding you like you were something precious. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing steadying.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For not leaving. For seeing me. For… everything.”

You smiled, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Always. Now come to bed. Let me hold you for a while.”

He nodded, letting you lead him to the bedroom. He stripped down to his boxers and crawled under the covers, pulling you against his chest the second you joined him. His arms wrapped around you tightly, one hand stroking your back in slow, soothing circles, the other tangled in your hair.

“I love you,” he murmured again, voice sleepy and soft. “Even when I’m an idiot. Especially then.”

You smiled against his skin, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “I love you too. My grumpy, protective, secretly soft boyfriend.”

He huffed a laugh, the sound warm. “Only for you.”

The city hummed far below. In the quiet dark of your shared apartment, Jason Todd held you like you were the only safe thing left in his world.

And you held him right back.

Because loving Jason Todd had never been easy.

But it had always been worth it.

When you had found out you were pregnant, it had been a constant battle of 'when' and 'how' you were going to tell Jason. Having a husband with neglectful parents who left him to fend for himself in the ruthless alleyways of Gotham tended to cause one to be wary in your predicament. Not even the love and charity Bruce offered when he'd adopted the young boy could reverse their effect.

After a long, insightful conversation with the Wayne Manor butler and a batch of his famous chocolate chip cookies, you had come to terms with being open with Jason.

Admittedly, he hadn't taken it well. The blood had drained from his face, his eyes taking on a far-away look that had you worried he would bolt...

But he had stayed, much to your surprise.

Each day came with its struggles as your stomach began to grow and your appointments started stacking up. Despite Jason attending each and every one, he wasn't present. You had decided to try your hand at bringing him to terms with the situation and, hopefully, encourage excitement or even something other than dread and detachment. You couldn't lose your husband when you needed him now more than ever.

One evening you were in bed with a parenting book in your lap as Jason read from a copy of The Scarlet Pimpernel. You had come across an interesting tip and softly cleared your throat. "Did you know that reading aloud to the baby can promote brain development and support their recognition with voices?"

Jason had stilled as if frozen to the spot and you grew nervous, afraid he had either no heard you or chose to ignore-

"They can hear from the womb?"

A breath of relief fell from your lips. "Yes."

"Do you think they would like historical fiction?"

A disbelieved laugh climbed up your throat. "I'm not sure they're particular with their literature just yet."

Another worrying moment of silence and then he moved closer, a scarred, hesitant hand hovering atop your swollen abdomen. You assisted with putting your hand over his and settling it right over where your child rested and listened to his steady voice grow as he began to read.

Perhaps this could work after all.

It became a nightly ritual after that. If Jason wasn't out patrolling or installing fear into the drug lords of Gotham with his Red Hood persona, he was sitting in bed with you, reading to your bump until either you fell asleep or his voice grew tired. He would prop pillows under your knees, back, and head to ensure your comfort.

Now that Jason didn't see your baby as another person to disappoint and, instead, someone he could share his love of literature with, he felt a flicker of hope that he could get something right where he had been wronged.

After giving birth and bringing your daughter home, Jason hadn't stopped his nightly routine. If anything, he did it more often; in between naps, during feedings, etc. If there was any chance he had to better the bond between him and his little girl, he wouldn't let it pass.

This evening in particular, he was reading from Pride and Prejudice to your daughter who had just been bathed and was settling down for the night.

You chuckled at Jason's prohibition of her dating any Mr. Wickham's. "I'm sure her grandfather and uncles will have some say in whomever she decides to date."

Jason shook his head in exasperation, his thumb bookmarking his page. "The only thing they're good for."

Your daughter yawned as if in agreement.

"As soon as she sees the movie, she'll be intent on finding her own Mr. Darcy, I'm sure, then she won't require the help of her meddling family." You stroked the bridge of her soft nose.

Jason scoffed in faux distaste. "I'm still baffled by your preference. The BBC series is significantly better."

You whipped around to face him, mouth agape. "In no universe is that true!"

He nodded vehemently, setting the book on his lap. "By a large margin, yes, it is."

"You only say that because you're averse to enjoying anything actually pleasant."

"If that's true then you must be dreadfully boring since I seem to like your presence." He tucked his lips in before you could catch his smile but you knew better.

Before you could rebuttal, the baby made a noise of discontent, surely displeased by the disturbance of her parents playful argument. "See," you smiled, "she agrees."

"As soon as we are finished with the novel, she will rethink her decision." He said in absolute faith. "She will come to know that Colin Firth is a much more believable Mr. Darcy than that other guy."

"That 'other guy' has a name, you know." You swat at his shoulder playfully.

As both of your laughter died down, Jason gazed at your daughter in adoration. "Do you...is it normal for me to love her as much as I do?"

Jason Todd was many things but uncertainty was not one of them.

You laid your head on his broad shoulder and watched your daughter as well. When you had first seen her, you had been somewhat depressed that she had only inherited Jason's genes; black hair, pale coloring, furrowed brows. But clarity had washed over you once you held her in your arms. She had the features of her father, the man whom you loved more than anything, and it was more than you could have asked for.

"She's a piece of you and me," you explained, "It's more than normal for you to feel that way."

Silence settled over you, as thick as a blanket when he elaborated further.

"I never understood why my parents left me the way they did. Was it truly that difficult to love your own child? Were they unsure of how to raise me or provide for me? Was I so undesirable?"

Tears pricked at your eyes at his confession. How could anyone have abandoned their own flesh and blood? How could they be so selfish?

He continued, voice faint with emotion, "You must have known in the beginning that I was afraid. I didn't want to become the monster my own parents had been. But then I saw her and," he swallowed thickly, "...and I knew I could never do that to her. She was my whole heart. My whole life. I knew, without a doubt, that I would only ever love her."

"Perhaps," you found his hand which wasn't holding your daughter to intertwine your fingers, "she was born to give you that connection you've been missing"

He tilted his head in consideration, the white lock of his hair falling across his head adorably. "You think so?"

"We had been so careful for so long to prevent any children, Jason. She was obviously meant to be here."

He slowly nodded, as if he could trust that perspective.

You pressed a kiss to his skin, grateful he had come around. "She is so lucky to have you has her dad."

"I'm beginning to believe that." He murmured thickly.

The both of you sat there, staring down at the tiny bundle you had created together as she slept soundly, unaware of any horrible, dangerous thing in the world due to the unquestionable protection of her parents.

Jason picked the book up once more and picked up where he left off. "Remember, pretty girl, Mr. Wickham is not what he seems..."

author's note: had it in my drafts foreeeeeever

Jason Todd had never been good at feelings.

He’d spent years building walls so high no one could climb them. Death had only made them taller. But you - quiet, patient, stubborn you - had somehow slipped through the cracks anyway.

Now those cracks felt like canyons.

He’d spent the first few days throwing himself into work. Patrols. Warehouse raids. Anything to keep his hands busy and his mind quiet. But every night he came home to an empty apartment and the silence screamed louder than any gunshot.

Then he saw you.

It was at a small café near the university. You were sitting outside with a guy — some tall, friendly-looking idiot with glasses and a soft smile. He said something that made you laugh, head tilted back, eyes bright the way they used to be with him.

Jason’s stomach dropped.

He told himself it was nothing. Just a friend. You were allowed to have friends. But the image stuck - you smiling at someone else while he was falling apart.

That night he did something he’d sworn he’d never do.

He drank.

Not a beer. Not a glass of whiskey.

A bottle. Then another.

The alcohol burned going down, but it didn’t quiet the noise in his head. It only made it louder. By 2am he was drunk for the first time in his life, sitting on the floor of his apartment with his phone in his hand, thumb hovering over your name.

He pressed call.

You answered on the third ring, voice sleepy. “Jason?”

“You’re out there smiling at other guys,” he slurred, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “While I’m sitting here like a fucking idiot thinking about you every second. You said a break. Not a breakup. But it feels like you’re already moving on. Like I was just a phase. Like-“

“Jason,” you cut in, sounding more awake now. “Are you drunk?”

He laughed — ugly and raw. “Yeah. First time in ages. Congratulations. You made the emotionally constipated zombie drink. Happy now?”

There was a pause. Then your voice, sharper. “Stop it. You’re spiraling. Come over. We need to talk.”

“No,” he snapped, but his voice cracked. “You wanted space. You got it. Go smile at your new friend. I’m sure he’s nicer. Doesn’t have blood on his hands. Doesn’t wake up screaming—”

“Jason Todd,” you said, voice firm but gentle, the way you always got when he was like this. “Stop. You’re breaking my heart right now. I’m coming over. Do not hang up.”

He didn’t.

He sat on the floor, phone pressed to his ear, listening to you move around your apartment, the sound of keys, the door closing. Twenty minutes later there was a knock.

He opened it.

You stood there in sweatpants and one of his old hoodies, hair messy, eyes wide with worry. The second you saw him - red-eyed, swaying slightly, looking smaller than you’d ever seen him - your face crumpled.

“Oh, Jay…”

He broke.

The tears came fast and ugly, shoulders shaking as he tried to hold them back. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so fucking sorry. I thought… I thought you were done. I saw you with that guy and I just… I panicked. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be someone worth staying for.”

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you, and pulled him into your arms. He collapsed against you, burying his face in your neck, arms wrapping around your waist like you might disappear.

“I’m not done,” you whispered, holding him tight. “It was a break, Jason. Not a breakup. I needed space because I was scared too. Scared that you’d keep shutting me out until there was nothing left of us. But I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”

He cried harder, the kind of raw, broken sound that tore at your chest. You guided him to the couch, pulling him down so his head rested in your lap. Your fingers stroked through his hair, slow and soothing, the way you knew he liked.

“I love you,” you said quietly. “The angry parts. The scared parts. The parts that think they’re too broken to be loved. All of them. You’re not too much. You’re not too damaged. You’re mine. And I’m yours. Okay?”

He nodded against your thigh, fingers clutching the hem of your hoodie. “Okay,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I got drunk. I’m sorry I said those things. I was just… scared. I saw you smiling and I thought I’d lost you for good.”

“You haven’t,” you assured him, leaning down to kiss his temple. “I’m right here. And I’m staying. We’ll figure out the rest. Together.”

Jason stayed curled in your lap for a long time, breathing gradually evening out as your fingers continued their slow path through his hair. Every so often he’d press a kiss to your thigh or your wrist, like he needed the constant reminder you were real.

“I love you,” he said again, softer this time. “More than I know how to say. I’ll try to be better. Less… constipated.”

You laughed quietly, the sound warm. “I love you too. Even when you’re emotionally constipated. Especially then.”

He shifted, pulling you down so you were lying beside him on the couch, your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you like you were the only safe thing left in the world.

The city hummed far below. The argument, the fear, the drunk call — all of it faded into the background as Jason held you close, his heartbeat steady under your ear.

“I’m keeping you,” he whispered into your hair. “For as long as you’ll let me.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

In the quiet dark of the apartment, Jason Todd — the man who came back from the dead, the one who built walls so high no one could climb them — finally let someone in.

And you?

You stayed.

Because loving Jason Todd had never been easy.

But it had always been worth it.