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⋆🐾°fernanda ; sweet girl₊ ⊹ big heart Jason Todd's sweety dc > marvel bilingual salvi aquarius doll status update - nose in a book lover robert pattinson sugar addict helpless romantic shy baby

𖥻 ׁ ׅ additional ! ׁ ׅ 🪷

info. ✦ rules. ✦ change. ✦ palenstine. ✦ wild.

anyways but i am working on it dw

Sunshine Blooming ｡𖦹°‧

Jason Todd x Loud! Reader

𖹭 synopsis: after being dragged into a party by Dick, Jason doesn’t expect to fall in love with a very loud and unashamed woman

𖹭 tags: kinda loser! jason???, dick and jason being brothers, jason is a lil insecure, inspired by the outrageous woman trend, the intro to ‘Losing You’ by Solange, ‘Girlfriend’ by hemlocke springs and the song ‘I’m every woman’ by chaka khan, reader with tan skin and brown eyes, reader makes threesome joke about Dick, ooc jason lowkey

A/N: this is more of a lazy fic if i’m being honest but this was also just an impulse and very much just me being inspired by all the women around the world. also sorry for late update, school is kicking my, very fat, ass

He first ran into you at this underground party, you know the type: dim red lights, house music blasting, and everyone standing around with drinks in hand.

He wasn't exactly keen on going; he thought those parties were a complete waste of time, but Dick had other ideas.

“You’re such a bum,” Jason complained as his older brother's voice came through. He lifted his eyes just as Dick squeezed through his window.

“You do realize I have a door, right?” he shot back, adjusting the book in his lap, not really in the mood for Dick's antics.

“Are you seriously reading on a Friday night?” Dick huffed, brushing off his shirt as he got closer.

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Dude, you really need to get a life,” Dick teased, running his fingers through his perfectly styled hair. He gestured to the couch for Jason to make room, and Jason rolled his eyes but went along with it.

“You’re telling me to get a life while you’re here bugging me?” Jason raised an eyebrow, reluctantly closing his book and giving Dick a light shove with it. Dick just chuckled.

“Okay, look—” he settled onto the couch, leaning back with his hand on the backrest. “There’s a party tonight at 11. I’m picking you up.”

“Absolutely not—”

“Don't care, you’re going. No debate.”

So there he was, a towering 6'3 man packed with muscle, doing his best to blend in like a fly on the wall while everyone else was dancing around him.

When he first walked in, Jason expected the first thing he'd hear was music, maybe a little bantering from the people closest to the door, or even the sound of people's feet shuffling against the floor.

But no, nothing, absolutely nothing could've prepared Jason for your laugh. It was the first thing he heard, so loud and free it made him pause in place momentarily.

"Didn't know there was a clown on the guest list," Dick had joked as a laugh bubbled in his chest, nudging Jason further inside.

"Don't say that, you know I don't like clowns," Jason said sarcastically with a grimace as he found himself a little corner near the door and stayed there. Dick was still walking when he realized Jason wasn't following anymore. Arching his brow, he turned around and sighed deeply.

"Are you just going to stay glued to the wall?"

"Yup."

"You sound like Big McIntosh, c'mon," he said as he waved at him to hurry up, but Jason simply shook his head.

Dick sighed heavily once again, one hand rubbing his side temple.

"Alright man, look, I'll leave with your wall if you promise to at least socialize with one person," he said, his tone suddenly changing to a softer one. He held Jason's gaze until the youngest one huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Fine, but I'm not exceeding my minimum," he said reluctantly, which gained a seemingly pleased nod from Dick before he blended in with the crowd, leaving Jason alone with his wall and the people around him.

Barely ten minutes had passed, and Jason was already feeling annoyed. The smell of sweat hung in the air, the loud music blasted close to his ears, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

“I need a beer,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets as he headed over to the bar, which was surprisingly empty. He settled onto a bar stool and called for the bartender, ordering a whole bottle of Modelo. He was going to need it.

Just then, he heard it, the little chime that had first captured his attention when he stepped inside. He fought the urge to look, even though temptation nagged at him. It was just a laugh; it shouldn't have stood out the way it did. He cast a quick glance around the room but quickly straightened, clearing his throat while his fingers tapped rhythmically on the table.

But then you laughed again, just as the bartender set the beer in front of him, and he couldn’t help himself. He took a long swig, as if to drown his pride, and looked around again.

His breath caught in his throat. There you were, on the dance floor, your skin glowing bronze under the dim lights. The sparkly midi skirt you wore danced with your hips, and the bangles on your wrists jingled as you raised your hands in the air. Your hair swayed wildly as you shook your head side to side. Everything about you felt uniquely yours, from those one-of-a-kind kitten heels he knew you couldn't have found anywhere else but the bins, to the way you made your simple tank top look like it belonged on a runway.

You were stunning, and that was an understatement. Jason had never encountered anything like it, not even in his wildest dreams. Someone so carefree, so full of life and joy. The way you laughed with your friends, the way you moved and filled the space around you, the way you existed unapologetically. He felt his palms begin to sweat, the room suddenly feeling too warm.

With a shaky breath, he glanced down at his hands before roughly dragging them down the denim of his jeans. But there was something about you, something magnetic, that made his gaze linger. He kept stealing glances at you through his lashes, watching as you swayed your shoulders to make your chest move, dropping lower under the limbo pole while your friends cheered you on.

He lost track of how long he had been watching you, but it was long enough for your smile to seep into him. The apples of his cheeks began to ache; it was almost humiliating as he listened to your voice harmonizing with the lyrics of whatever song was playing.

He knew he should look away, but he didn’t want to. Someone like you didn't belong in the same room as someone like him, yet he couldn't help but admire you shining under the sparkling light of the mirror ball. He bit his bottom lip softly as his leg bounced with anxiety; you stirred feelings in him he wasn’t prepared for.

As he looked at you, his thoughts consumed by the symphony of your laughter ricocheting off the walls, he remained blissfully unaware of just how transparent he had become. It was only when one of your friends gently tapped your shoulder and leaned in to whisper that the realization struck him. His mind was too focused on thoughts of you to grasp the moment your friends murmured about him in hushed tones.

Your lips formed a soft pout, and your head turned sharply in confusion, eyes narrowing instinctively. Yet, you refrained from meeting his gaze, at least until one of your friends sighed dramatically and nudged your head in his direction. He could have sworn his heart hitched in its rhythm the instant your eyes met his, time seemed to decelerate, the surrounding clamor fading into a hazy dream.

His hands gripped the denim of his thighs, a feeble attempt to anchor himself to reality, before he hastily averted his gaze. He felt utterly unworthy of being the focus of your attention, unworthy of those exquisite chocolate eyes resting upon him. He didn't dare to look back, fixating instead on the back bar, his cheeks aflame with embarrassment while his fingers danced nervously in time with the pulsating beat in the background.

He bit his lip, his thoughts slowly unraveling like a tangled maze. He had just embarrassed himself—how could he have ever thought a woman like you would show even the slightest interest in him? You deserved better, much better than a man stained by his past, one burdened with anger and a thirst for revenge. A man who—

A light tap on his shoulder jolted him from his spiraling thoughts, and suddenly the fog began to clear. It was you.

You were smiling. Were you actually smiling at him? With a small giggle bubbling from your chest, you leaned against the bar table, your cheek resting in the palm of your hand as your eyes took him in. "Do you believe in love at first sight, or do I need to walk by again?" you asked, and his eyes widened just a fraction. Were you... flirting? Pretty badly, he might add?

"No, no, wait!" you said with a mischievous look, raising your palms as you stepped back with a spring in your step, disappearing into the crowd, leaving him baffled, though not for long. You returned just as quickly, positioning yourself in front of him with your hand on your waist. "So? Do you believe in it now?" you asked, a cheeky smile lighting up your face.

He stared at you in slight awe and confusion. Why were you even speaking to him right now? With your eyes so kind and your demeanor so bright and patient? He took a heavy breath before answering, "Um... yeah, kinda," he admitted with a shy smile that landed more awkwardly than anything. He regretted it instantly, but you just giggled and slid into the chair beside him.

Now, he noticed your features up close: the small freckles dusting your cheeks, barely visible beneath your light foundation, the faint smudge of mascara from the heat, and the way your lips danced with every word.

"You know staring is rude, right?" you broke through his thoughts yet again.He shook his head, trying to shake loose the thoughts of you.

"Oh no, yeah, I’m sorry," he stammered, his gaze drifting from your lips back to your eyes.

You let out a soft laugh, adjusting your position to face him. "You're so cute, I like you," you said with a radiant smile that nearly sent his mind spiraling. You liked him? Him? Out of everyone in this bar?

"You're a bit quiet, but that's okay because I usually am not. Anyway... honestly, I'm really glad I spotted you and found an empty chair next to you. My feet are killing me. I don’t even know how long I’ve been dancing, but I promise I’m about done," you rambled.

He observed your little quirks: the way you talked without checking if he was listening, how your hands animated your words, and the expressions that colored your face with every emotion you conveyed. A smile crept onto his lips without him realizing it; there was something about you that made his bad thoughts fade away.

"I really need a drink and a pair of flats. I'm so terrible at wearing heels, I don't know why I keep trying," you giggled to yourself while glancing over at him. "These are just kitten heels though," you said, lifting your leg playfully into the air. The sudden movement surprised him, but you didn't seem to mind as you set your foot back down. "At least they're cute, that's like their only pro. Anyway, can you believe I got them for only thirty bucks?" You shook head. "I sure couldn't, especially in this economy! I snatched them before one of those depop resellers could."

He looked surprised for a moment, caught off guard by the sheer number of topics you could discuss. In fact, he was a bit stunned that you were even sitting next to him at all.

"I...um—" he stumbled over his words as the music began to change. Just then, you cut in with excitement.

"Oh my goodness! This is my favorite song!" you exclaimed, your eyes lighting up as you dashed away to the dance floor, completely forgetting about the complaints you had just made about your aching feet. He was left with the words in his mouth, his heart raced, and his mind utterly clouded. He was definitely whipped, that much was clear.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to comprehend the fact that someone like you might actually have the slightest interest in him. It seemed as if you had given him a seed for a fresh start, a chance he wasn’t sure he deserved. Every time he saw you, he saw a glimpse of a possibility of something good, something normal. And deep down, he couldn’t help but want to be selfish and grasp that chance.

"Don't be so boring," a groan interrupted his thoughts as a hand pulled him upwards. You guided him, hands clasped together, through the crowd to the dance floor. His breath hitched as he observed the way your hips swayed with each step, how your hands deftly cleared a path among the shifting bodies. He mumbled soft apologies to those who turned to look but didn't truly mean them.

Once on the dance floor, you quickly found your rhythm, your body moving effortlessly to the beat, accustomed to the familiar sounds and the curious eyes around you. Yet, you caught the nervous glint in his gaze, the way he swallowed hard each time he realized he was staring too long. You rolled your eyes, what a dork.

His hands balled into fists at his sides, caught between uncertainty and desire as you leaned back against him. Your warmth seeped through his flimsy shirt, stirring thoughts he struggled to suppress: thoughts of tracing a finger along the softness of your skin, thoughts of you not recoiling in disgust. But when your hands guided his to your hips, he felt his resolve dissipate.

Right then and there, he saw it. With your excessive shimmering body glitter, sweet perfume, and off-tone notes, you embodied the thing he had always craved most in life. The dream he had clawed himself out of the dirt for and fought tirelessly to find: happiness. Joy.

He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the soft curves of your hips, eliciting a small gasp from you.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, but you simply grinned, making his heart stutter. It was undeniable—he wanted you, wanted everything you had to offer.

His breath was warm against your neck, his hands following the sway of your hips as they moved in time with the music. A smirk crept onto your lips; it was clear he was trying, really trying, and yet failing so adorably to keep up with your rhythm.

You giggled to yourself, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “Hey, don’t ya wanna?” you said, nodding toward the exit. His eyes widened with excitement.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, quickly clearing his throat. His hands slowly slid off your hips, and he added, “I mean, yeah, um, yes, I would.” His gaze darted away from yours, a shy smile forming.

“Calm down, puppy,” you teased with a laugh, your feet already leading you toward the exit. He followed almost immediately, his tall figure looming behind you, hands clasped behind his back as he resisted the urge to wrap them around your waist.

“Where the hell is he?” Dick grumbled as his boots echoed through the many levels of Gotham. He had called Jason a hundred times, and each one went straight to voicemail. He was almost convinced that Jason had slipped out of the party to do whatever ridiculous things Jason did.

“I swear to God...” he muttered, finally landing on the fire escape of the youngest. “Can’t take him anywhere,” he sighed, sliding the window open and wriggling through until his feet hit the cold floor.

“I thought I reminded you that my door works perfectly well, Dick,” Jason’s voice sliced through the quiet.

“Hey! I’ve called you like five times! Did you really leave early?” Dick approached Jason, who had his back turned in the kitchen, making himself a cup of coffee. Dick’s eyes narrowed in the dim light, noting the small scratch marks scrawled across Jason’s back.

“Yo, am I imagining things or did you get into a fight with a cat?” he asked, and Jason turned around, frowning.

“What are you talking ab—”

The sound of footsteps padding down the hallway caused both brothers to freeze, and Dick could have sworn he heard Jason mutter something under his breath.

Your figure emerged from the shadows, bare legs on display while the rest of you was cloaked in a shirt that was definitely Jason’s.

“Ey, one more life to the partayyy!” you exclaimed, waving your hands above your head as you stood beside Jason.

“I didn’t know you were into threesomes,” you teased, shaking your head and making a small ‘tsk’ sound. “It’s always the quiet ones, am I right?” you ventured, only to be met with silence.

“Damn, tough crowd.”

Jason cleared his throat. “Um...” he gestured toward Dick. “This is Richard, he’s my brother, you could say,” he added, letting his hands drop to his sides.

Meanwhile, Dick was left speechless. His brother, his hoe-less brother, was standing there with a woman? To whom had Bruce prayed for this?

“Oh shit, that’s your brother?” you said with a smile, looking up at Jason before bursting into laughter. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” You waved your hands in front of yourself, still giggling to yourself as both men stared at you.

Dick quietly stepped back, his hands raised in a playful gesture of mock surrender as he nodded toward the window while your laughter filled the apartment. Jason gave a brief nod, his lips pressed together. At least now Dick knew Jason would be busy for a while.

Once you finally paused, you sighed and wiped the tears from your eyes, looking up with a curious expression. "Oh? When did he leave?"

Forget You 𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐

Dilf! Jason Todd x Alzheimers! Reader

𖹭 synopsis: After being diagnosed with early stage Alzheimers, Jason watches as you slowly fade away in front of his eyes

𖹭 tags: Husband! Jason, wife! reader, major character death!!, Jason Todd is a good husband,. angst, self blaming! Jason, scared! reader, medical inaccuracies, grammar problems, not proofread, no happy ending, Part One Here.

A/N: Okay part two of my last fic, I think you guys liked it thankfully! You guys are so nice </3 Anyways, umm you die so sorry, I think that's my only warning to this?

"Shower?" you asked, tilting your head as if it were an unfamiliar concept.

He suppressed a laugh, really, he tried, as he glanced down at you perched on the edge of the bed. You looked absolutely stunning. The soft morning light filtering through the orange curtains you had picked lit up the room with a cozy, warm glow, akin to your presence.

"Yes, sweetheart, shower," he said, taking a step closer.

You stayed put.

He noticed a sudden flush creeping up your cheeks, and it made his lips curl into a smile. It felt nice to know he still had the power to make you blush, even after everything.

"You usually shower in the morning," he offered gently, though your wide eyes suggested you weren’t entirely on board with the idea. He let out a playful sigh. "You really don’t believe me, do you, darling?" A simple shake of your head was his answer, and he pursed his lips. "Well... looks like we have a bit of a situation here, don’t we?" With that, you were no longer on the edge of the bed; you found yourself cradled in his arms, upside down.

“Wha–Jay, put me down!” you protested, trying to mask the delight in your voice while feigning annoyance.

“Oh no, darling, I can’t let you wander around the city all unkempt,” he said as he strolled toward the adjoining bathroom. “And stop squirming, will you?” His warm hand playfully swatted your bottom, causing you to jolt.

“Jay! Be nice!” you huffed. Yet, even with his backside right in front of your face, you could see the cheeky grin he wore. As he entered the bathroom, he recalled the tedious renovations you had convinced him to do. The old, ugly mirror had been swapped for a vintage, silver-trimmed one that had seen your face contoured in pleasure more times the both of you liked to admit. The shelves that had been a hassle to install were now filled with a vast amount of products he didn’t quite understand. Incense holders dotted every flat surface, complementing the pricey french vanilla candles and bathroom accessories you just had to have.

"Do I really have to shower?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, making him furrow his brows. He gently set you back on your feet, looking at you with a playful smile.

"Did you really just ask me if you have to shower?" he teased. You nodded, a serious look on your face. "Yeah, do I have to shower?" you repeated.

"Well, as much as I love seeing you all, um, 'marinated' from yesterday," he chuckled, his hands curling around your shoulders as his eyes took in your appearance. Your eyebrows were a wild mess without the usual gel; there were still remnants of sleep in the corners of your eyes, and your lips looked adorably chapped. "I have a feeling you won't be too thrilled with me when the clock strikes noon and you smell less than fresh," he said with a lighthearted grin.

You looked up at him, your eyes momentarily distant as if lost in the scenario he pictured, and then nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense," you said softly, giving a small shrug.

Turning towards the shower, your gaze wandered

over the bottles with vague labels and the odd

Shaped handle. You spotted not one, but two bars of soap?

You frowned.

Which one were you supposed to use?

Your hand hovered over the shelf, fingers twitching as you tried to recall something- anything, that would make sense of it. body wash... conditioner... shampoo... The words felt distant, as if you knew them but couldn't quite place them in order.

Your chest tightened

The space suddenly felt bigger than it should have been. Too many choices. Too many steps. Too easy to mess up.

You swallowed hard

"Hey, honey, I’m right here," he reassured you, and you gasped quietly as he pulled you close to his side. He had witnessed that look from you lately; when even the simplest tasks felt a bit daunting. But he was determined to stand by you every step of the way.

"No, Jay, I should kno-" you apologized, but he gently lifted your chin with his fingers, bringing your lips close to his.

"None of that… not with me, okay?" You nodded, though a bit reluctantly. He stepped back, the playful spark returning. "Come on, let’s get you cleaned up before we end up late"

--

You knew deep down that shame had no place in your heart, yet it clung to you like a stubborn shadow. Standing there in your shared closet, your hair trickling down your spine in damp strands, you couldn't help but feel like a total klutz.

“Just pick something, dumbass,” you muttered under your breath, your leg bouncing nervously as a weird feeling formed in your chest. Your gaze flitted back and forth between the two sections of the closet. You were fairly certain one was yours, the other Jason's, but why were so many of his hoodies draped on your side? Biting your lip, you let out a heavy sigh, shoulders curled inwards in defeat.

“Jay?” you called out, your voice tinged with a mix of hope and desperation. He appeared almost promptly, leaning casually against the doorway, a vision of calm. “Need any help?” he asked, fastening his belt with practiced ease. The contrast hit you hard; here he was, looking put together while you struggled to choose a simple t-shirt. “Uh, yeah, which side is mine again?” Your attempt to sound casual fell flat; you could feel his gaze penetrating the facade you tried to maintain. He pointed silently to your left with a knowing look that said this wasn't the first time.

"Oh yeah, I knew that," you said nervously, your hands grasping the first thing that came into reach, a plain white long-sleeve. But just as you were about to let the towel fall so you could pull the shirt over your head, you heard him clear his throat, halting you in your tracks. You turned to look at him, arching an eyebrow in question.

“Do you need me to grab you some underwear, darling?” His gentle tone aimed to soften the embarrassment that had recently swelled within you at being called out. Heat rushed to your cheeks, a flush of crimson igniting your skin. It didn't work. “Uh… yeah, could you please?” He nodded wordlessly before slipping away. You remained hidden in the closet; a comfortable silence surrounded you in place of his absence. When he finally stepped back in, your breath caught in your throat, and your eyes widened ever so slightly. In one hand, he held a small stash of your belongings, his other arm casually draped a pair of jeans over his shoulder. Moving closer, he placed your cherished items on the shelf, a shelf that had been installed at your request during the bathroom renovations.

"Here are your bracelets, the ones you always wear," he started, his voice steady as he pointed to each piece. "Your earrings, your rings, your underwear, your perfume..." Each word he spoke resonated with care, a testament to the thought and attention he paid to you. Finally, he grabbed the jeans from his shoulder, holding them up with a smile, "And these... these are your favorite jeans." He carefully folded them before placing them beside the rest, an act so ordinary yet infused with tenderness.

You found yourself lost in the display of your things, overwhelmed by a swell of silent gratitude. It was as if he had taken a moment to weave together the fragments of who you were, laying them out before you as an offering. When you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, your heart swelled.

A lump formed in your throat as you cleared it softly. "Thank you, Jay," you said, your words genuine and heartfelt. "I don’t know what I would do without you." Your hand instinctively reached out to him, wanting to ease the need for him. He offered you a gentle shake of his head, leaning forward so that his lips brushed lightly against the crown of your head.

"There’s no need for that," he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring. "I’ll wait for you in the living room, okay?" You nodded, a warm swirl of emotions churning within you as he slowly stepped away, giving you the space you needed.

Yet the room felt quieter after he left, and for a moment...you didn't know where to start

--

"Jay, where are we going?" You asked, the crisp wind tousled your hair like a shampoo commercial. The frenetic pace of Gotham's streets surged around you, a relentless current that seemed to pull you forward, even when your heart longed for a moment of stillness.

"We're just going to get you checked up, okay?" he reassured you, his grip tightening around your hand, a tether to keep you anchored in this chaotic maze. You struggled to match his step, but each corner felt like dizzying vortex, spinning you into a maze of confusion. With every turn, your sense of direction crumbled further; it was as if the city itself conspired to obscure the very paths you thought you knew well. You had called Gotham home for years, yet it rarely felt like it nowadays.

As you glanced around, searching for something, anything, that would ground you, your hand instinctively squeezed his. He turned back, his brow furrowing slightly, that familiar look of careful observation shining through. You shook your head, your quiet attempt to convey that you were alright, even as the shadows of anxiety crept closer. He could see through your act, though; he always could. In Gotham, he lived by the belief that danger lurked around every corner, but today, he paused. For you.

"Hey, c'mon," he said, tilting his head toward the inviting glow of the diner window up ahead. A wave of relief washed over you, and you tightened your grip around his hand, seeking peace in his presence.

"You okay?" he asked softly as you reached the diner, standing in the embrace of its flickering neon light. His hands enveloped your face, his touch gentle as he brushed away errant strands of hair that the wind had messed recklessly. You nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat, the tightness threatening to crush you inside. The world had morphed into a gallery of the unknown, and you now recoiled from the surroundings you had once walked through without doubt.

"Yeah... I just got confused, that's all," you admitted, your gaze roving over the bustling scene. He followed the direction of your eyes, his hands settling around your waist, maintaining his vigilant stance. It both amused and comforted you to see him ever on guard, as if his mere presence could shield you from the imagined threats that lingered just out of sight, waiting to pounce. You let out a dry laugh, a sound that mingled with the tension in the air. "I'm fine, Jason," you reassured him, a warmth blooming in your chest as you gazed back at him. The moment his eyes met yours, an undeniable softness washed over his features. He searched your face as if it held the key to a vital secret, his eyes roaming until they found comfort in you.

"Mkay, good," he acknowledged, offering you a slow nod as if to solidify that fleeting moment of relief. "You need another minute?" His voice held a touch of concern, an instinctive caution against any sign of delirium creeping into your world. You nodded, a hint of a smile breaking through your lips in appreciation of his care. "Yes, a minute would be nice," you replied, and he honored that request.

Time itself seemed to slow as he stood beside you. His leg bounced nervously, eyes darting around the surroundings. Yet, through all of that, his grip on your hand remained firm. This was just him, what Gotham had done to him, a mixture of anxiety and unease. You found relief by resting your head against his bicep, comforted by the steady rhythm of his heart, until your gaze fell upon something that made your heart skip a beat.

"Jason, Jason, look!" you exclaimed, your voice brimming with excitement as you pointed, an enormous grin plastered across your face. The sound of your joy broke through the cloudiness of his mind, and he turned his focus back to you. His eyes followed your finger until they landed on a familiar sign. "Big Belly Burgers? You want a burger, baby?" he asked, an eyebrow quirking up, only to earn a dramatic frown and eye roll from you.

“Ugh, no, Jay, don’t you remember?” You responded, brows knitting together in frustration. "Last time I checked, you were the one having difficulty remembering, baby," he shot back playfully, a smirk stretching across his lips. His tease hung in the air, but it didn’t quite strike the chord he hoped for. “Ugh, Jay, how come you don’t remember?” You implored, your hand instinctively finding his side, pinching him lightly.

"Ow! What was that for?" he protested, feigning injury with an exaggerated performance. “That’s where you took me on our second date, remember?” You coaxed, looking up at him with those big, pleading eyes of yours that could melt even the iciest of hearts. He held your gaze, and you watched as the spark of remembrance flickered to life.

Oh, how vividly he recalled that day. You both had been just a couple of nervous teenagers back then. He remembered the way his heart raced as he tried to impress you, attempting to eat his burger with a knife and fork as if it were a gourmet meal, just to seem sophisticated enough for you. A soft chuckle slipped through his lips as he recalled how you called him out for his antics, your voice sweet like honey when you said his name.

He could still feel the heat creeping up his cheeks, recalling the way his words stumbled over themselves in their effort to find rhythm, how he had to wipe his clammy hands on his jeans every now and then, a secret he would never be brave enough to admit, even all these years later. “You mean the one where you swore you didn’t want any fries and ended up eating all of mine?” he teased, a playful lilt to his tone.

You huffed, “That's totally not the point here,” and amidst your feigned annoyance, warmth flooded through you. He chuckled, teasingly snaking a hand around your waist, pulling you closer. He turned his gaze back to the burger place, memories flooding his mind like vivid scenes from an old movie. He could almost see the two of you there, laughing and sharing secrets over greasy fries and sodas, but soon those sweet memories turned sour. How could you recall those moments with such clarity? That question lingered in the air, thick and uncomfortable, tightening his chest with an unsettling squeeze. A dark thought crept into his mind, but he shook it off. Was it even possible? “Sweetheart, how do you remember that?” he finally asked, his voice a low, hesitant whisper after a moment of easy silence that seemed to stretch on forever.

You looked up at him, a gentle hum escaping your lips in response. “What do you mean, Jay? That was basically yesterday,” you replied, your eyes sparkling with a hint of genuineness, yet confusion clouded both your faces like a gathering storm. He took a deep breath, an almost desperate attempt to steady himself, nodding as if he understood. “Yeah... yeah, you’re right,” he conceded, though doubt played a relentless game in his mind.

How could you hold on to a memory from so long ago, grasping it with such ease? The recent years you had built together, a home and a life, seemed to slip through your fingers like sand. Yet here you were, effortlessly recalling the details of that second date as if it had just happened a moment ago. You remembered his face, youthful and smeared with cheap ketchup from the fast-food place where he had scraped together change to treat you to a burger. But could you do the same with him now? He couldn't bring himself to face the answer. He pushed the unsettling realization to the back of his mind as he guided you back onto the bustling main sidewalk, the world around them a mixture of muted colors and sounds that felt distant. He resisted the urge to confront the truth brewing within him. You weren't in the present anymore.

--

The walk to the memory care facility felt brief. As you approached, the automatic doors slid open, ushering you both inside. The unmistakable scent of hand sanitizer mingled with that of bleach enveloped you. "Just a checkup?" You asked, your voice tentative as you stepped onto the gleaming floor. He glanced back at you, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he nodded. "You let me talk to the receptionist, okay?" he instructed, his gaze fixed on the front desk that loomed further down the hallway. The words danced on your tongue, a protest lingering there, but you swallowed them down. What could you possibly contribute to that conversation? You who felt like an echo of yourself, barely holding onto the fragments of your own identity?

"Yeah, I'll just sit down over there," you finally offered, directing your eyes toward a pair of plush chairs lined against the wall. He nodded, a small gesture of reassurance, but it was tinged with the usual protectiveness he maintained. Under different circumstances, he wouldn’t have let you wander more than a few feet away. As you took slow steps away, you sneaked glances over your shoulder, each one ensuring that he remained in your line of sight until you finally sank into the seat.

With a long, weighted exhale, he approached the receptionist, his presence becoming a blur in your peripheral vision as you twisted your fingers nervously in your lap, seeking a distraction. You wished to possess his confidence, to stride up to people and share even the simplest of details, like what day it was. Instead, you found your gaze wandering to your hands, decorated with rings and bracelets that seemed unfamiliar, relics of a present you couldn't quite grasp. The skin no longer felt youthful, but sagged slightly, a jarring reminder of how time had slipped through your fingers. Each glance in the mirror was a stark confrontation with the truth: time had moved on, while you felt stuck in limbo, robbed of the memories that should have defined you.

A soft voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, pulling you back from the depths of your mind. You hadn’t even noticed he had returned until he said your name, causing your head to snap up.

"The doctor is waiting for us," he said, extending his hand toward you, a familiar gesture that brought with it both comfort and reluctance. You nodded and took his hand, the warmth grounding amidst the storm of your emotions. Despite the facade you wore for Jason’s sake, a weight settled heavily in your chest about this facility. You understood he appreciated it; he believed it was the best place for you to receive care. But why? Was it the eminent reputation, thanks to Bruce's dime, or simply because they provided medication? Regardless, a sense of resentment bubbled within you, hatred at the very notion that you needed to be "treated."

--

“Alright, I’ll keep the questions straightforward for you, okay? You should answer some of these with ease, but don’t worry if you can’t,” the doctor said, his tone calm as he turned the page on his clipboard. You sat on the examination table, your heart racing, stealing glances at Jason over your shoulder. He offered you a warm smile, reassuring you with a small gesture to turn back to face the doctor.

The doctor’s smile was gentle as he looked at you from across the table, soft yet rehearsed. “Can you tell me what day it is today?” he asked, his voice inviting.

You hesitated, your gaze flitting briefly to Jason before returning to the doctor’s expectant eyes. Your heart thumped in your chest as you finally said, “Um… Thursday?” It was a guess, a wrong one at that.

Jason stayed silent, his presence grounding but still.

“Close,” the doctor replied softly, jotting something down with the scratch of his pen against paper, each stroke sounding disproportionately loud in the tense stillness.

“Do you remember why you’re here today?” he continued, his expression unfaltering.

Fingers fidgeting in your lap, you took a breath. “Just… a check-up?” The words felt flimsy as you glanced back at Jason, silently pleading for his support.

“Correct,” said the doctor, and relief surged through you, fleeting but palpable. But then the questions kept coming, each one tugging at your consciousness longer than you wished. You understood it was necessary for them to gauge the extent of your struggles; despite that, a part of you ached to escape this scrutiny. “Alright, just a few last questions,” the doctor said, turning to a fresh page.

He asked, “How old are you?”

Silence enveloped the room.

“Okay, that’s fine,” the doctor said, with a slight nod as he scratched out the question, a hint of understanding in his demeanor.

“How long have you been married?” he ventured then.

You felt a flutter of embarrassment as you replied, “Oh, we’re barely dating.”

The atmosphere shifted; so quiet that you could hear the hitch in Jason’s breath, feel the tension radiating from him like an electric current. The doctor’s glance toward him was loaded with sympathy, an understanding that hung heavily in the air between them.

“Okay…” the doctor finally said, writing your answer carefully. You sensed the shift within the room, a collective awareness of something you didn’t grasp, and it gnawed at you. What had you said wrong? A question simmered on the edge of your lips, but you dared not voice it.

“Is that all?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the worry wrapping around you like a fog. The doctor nodded, his expression warming slightly.

“Yes, yes, of course. You’re free to leave.”

His words lingered, and while a part of you felt relieved to leave, another part was unsure whether you had passed their version of a test or not.

The walk home felt heavy with silence, a quiet that felt thick and unsettling. You caught the weight of it even with your tangled thoughts. Jason walked next to you, his hands buried deep in his pockets, fists clenched tight against the fabric, a silent pressure between you. Was this all because of what you said at the facility? You shifted your gaze away, focusing on the rhythm of your steps matching his. No, Jason wasn’t one to hold grudges; if things were off, he’d let you know, wouldn’t he? But the lack of his words ate away at you with each step, making you feel more anxious.

He fumbled with his keys at the front door. His fingers trembled until the keys clattered to the ground. “Damn it…” he muttered under his breath, quickly dropping to retrieve them. His footsteps thudded against the hardwood floors as he moved, and you watched him intently, trailing behind like a timid shadow. The silence hung heavily, compelling you to linger near the center of the living room. He didn’t glance your way, didn’t steer you towards the bedroom as he usually did. A knot twisted in your stomach; what had you done wrong?

The apartment was cloaked in dimness, and you caught his frustrated murmurs as he shuffled around the couch, searching for the remote. You toyed with your belt loop. Surely, he’d speak any second now, right? Maybe he was just prepping a movie for you both, planning to settle you next to him, wrapping you in his warmth until you drifted off to sleep. Yes, that had to be it. You bit your lip, waiting for the reassuring sound of his voice that never came. Instead, a faint sniffle broke through the stifling quiet, his hand roughly rubbing at his nose, and then the blaring news drowned out the thick silence that swallowed the apartment whole.

Your hopes faded as he tossed the controller onto the couch again, leaving the screen flashing "Jaso-." He shook his head, clearing his throat roughly. "I just need a minute, hold on," he said, standing motionless for a moment, a shaky sigh escaping his lips as his hands rested on his hips. You paused, unsure whether to approach him, but your indecision vanished when you heard his hurried steps toward the balcony.

“No, Jason,” you cried out, your hand instinctively gripping his wrist before you could think. He turned, and you gasped softly. His eyes were brimming with unshed tears. “Jason?” you whispered, and he immediately averted his gaze. His jaw tightened as he sniffled. “What?” he snapped, but even through the sharpness, you could detect the trembling vulnerability in his voice. You opened your mouth, but no words came; your mind felt frozen.

“Is it me?” The question slipped out, your breath catching in your throat as you braced for rejection.

“What?” he asked again, this time with less bite, his brow furrowing in confusion. His eyes locked onto yours, and you saw the fear mirrored back the way your lip quivered with each anxious breath. “Fuck…” he muttered, his hands instinctively clutching at his hair.

“It’s me, isn’t it?” You pressed, fingers tightening around his wrist, drawing a weak whimper from him. His gaze dropped to your hand, fixating on the diamond ring that caught the light from the TV. You held your breath, waiting for his answer, but he remained paralyzed, staring at your hand as though it were searing his skin. His silence felt like an affirmation, and you began to withdraw your grip with a shaky exhale, but he wouldn’t let you go. His left hand found yours, intertwining their warmth as he gazed at the rings that shone together. A single tear traced down his cheek, and before you knew it, your free hand instinctively wiped it away.

His eyes finally met yours, swirling with worry, as he lifted your hand to his lips, bestowing soft kisses around the ring. “You’re my wife, my woman,” he whispered. His gaze flicked back to the ring, studying the engraved date as if he might wake from a dream at any moment. You felt your breath halt, then rush back in, heavy and suffocating.

“Jason, I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, cupping his cheek with gentle urgency, but he shook his head, the hitch in his breath betraying him against your palm.

“I didn’t mean to…” you started, but he clenched his eyes shut, forcing more tears to spill. He released your hand, yet before you could react, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Your chest collided with his, warmth radiating between you. “I know… I just thought I had more time,” he admitted, the sorrow evident in every shaky breath. His hand found your face, rough and calloused, hardened by battles you couldn’t even comprehend. “Please, baby, promise me you won’t forget me, okay?” The request hung heavy in the air. “Just promise me that?” he pleaded, and you nodded. The moment the words left your lips his mouth found yours, desperate, unsteady like

he was trying to hold on to something already

slipping through his fingers.

--

The bitter scent of burnt tobacco hung heavy in the balcony's air, dense and earthy, wrapping around him like an old, unwelcome friend. Tonight, Gotham pulsed with an unsettling energy, the unending wails of sirens piercing the stillness and announcing chaos just beyond reach. He sat with an empty Marlboro box resting on his lap. His gaze remained fixated on the ground, unblinking, lips slightly parted as though they were forever frozen in that moment, a testament to how long that slender cylinder had once occupied his mouth.

The sliding door to the apartment was cracked open, a sliver of darkness beyond, and his vigilant ears stayed alert for any hint of disturbance. It was quiet inside now; you had been lulled to sleep under his watchful care. Even as his eyes burned from the smoke, he couldn't tear himself away from the mundane sight before him. The stillness shattered with a harsh cough, a result of too many nights spent inhaling sorrow; the weight of too many packs pressed heavily on his chest. He didn't brush away the tears that welled at the corners of his eyes; instead; he let them flow unchecked down his cheeks, tracing the path of scars you had once kissed so tenderly.

After a long blink, he returned to his silent vigil. Earlier, the nurse had called, her rehearsed words echoing in his mind. He had refused, letting the call ring out until it reached voicemail. His eyes lifted slowly to the dark gap of the sliding door.

The bathroom was the third door on the left. He'd made a small mark on the frame with a pen last Tuesday, just a dot, nothing obvious, so you'd know without having to ask. The bedroom was the second one. He'd labeled that one too, eventually. Little things. Things he did quietly, so that you didn't have to feel the weight of needing him.

The doctors had said it was early intervention. He kept turning that phrase over as if there was something useful inside it. There wasn't. He couldn't tear his gaze away, as though he believed that if he concentrated hard enough, the answer would reveal itself to him. In that fragile moment, time itself seemed to stretch thin, but a sound abruptly shattered it. Something tender yet broken filled the air. The soft, hesitant patter of footsteps echoed down the hallway, and he rose slowly, each movement laden with years of care and caution. His feet felt like lead against the floor, heavy and cumbersome, but he made sure they made no noise, afraid of disturbing the fragile silence.

As he stepped into the apartment, the dreaded sound pierced through the quiet, a voice he had hoped never to hear in that tone.

"Mama?"

Instinctively, he froze, his hand still gripping the edge of the sliding door, as if it were a lifeline. He caught a small sniffle, fragile as the sound of a child’s sob, so full of fear and confusion. Yet he stood there, motionless. You hadn’t called for him directly; you hadn’t even uttered his name. In that bleak moment, a devastating truth settled over him like a heavy shroud. It was over.

With a heart full of dread, he trod deeper into the shadowy hallways, his voice breaking the silence as he whispered your name, soft and gentle, a tender plea from a stranger. But it felt inadequate, a sad echo against your palpable fear.

The only response he received was a muffled sob, each sound tearing at him. The realization hit him like a storm: you feared him, and in that moment, his entire world crumbled beneath him. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, gripping it as if by sheer force he could somehow conjure up a solution, an answer to fix this.

“Baby, please, it’s me… Jason, your Jason,” he murmured desperately, each word slipping from his lips like a prayer. He took a step forward, filled with trepidation. He heard you shift, though he couldn’t tell in which direction. His palms pressed flat against the cool wall, searching blindly for the light switch.

The lights flickered to life with a low buzz that echoed in the stillness, and in that moment, he felt an overwhelming wave of déjà vu wash over him. There you were, curled up on the cold floor, tears streaming down your cheeks, an endless torrent that spoke of your despair. His breath hitched, sharp and uneven; he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. No, he thought, he wasn’t strong enough to face that pain just yet.

You held yourself tightly, your fragile body rocking back and forth in a desperate search for solace, a flicker of peace in this chaos. The word “mama” slipped past your lips like a sacred invocation, as if by uttering her name repeatedly, you could conjure her presence, begging her to emerge from the shadows and save you from this nightmare that felt all too real.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his heartbreak, a single tear trailing down his cheek as his fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt. He couldn’t bear to look at you; he feared that if he did, he’d lose the fragile grip he had on his own resolve. The urge to scoop you into his arms was nearly unbearable, but deep down, he knew that this might only make things worse.

“Baby,” he said again when all he received in response was a gut-wrenching sob. “She’s gone.”

In that instant, you froze. What were you to think? You were trapped in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by an unknown man who had just shattered your world with those cruel words. The realization hit you like a tidal wave; your mother, your protector, the one who kept darkness at bay, was no longer there. A heartbreaking wail erupted from deep within you, roar and loud, reverberating through the silence and shaking your shoulders with its intensity.

"Go away! Get out!" you screamed, the sound erupting from your throat in a raw, shattered cry that left a painful ache behind. His hand flew up to his mouth, biting back the anguish within him as his eyes squeezed shut, releasing silent sobs that felt like jagged glass tearing through the silence. He had never imagined that words could cut so deep, that they could pierce the very core of his being. "Get out, I said get out!" you sobbed, your feet instinctively shuffling backward until your back pressed against the wall, your fingers digging into the textured surface as if it were your anchor in a storm of chaos.

His feet moved of their own accord, propelling him towards the corridor before his mind could catch up, a haze of disbelief clouding his thoughts. He couldn’t breathe; the air felt heavy, suffocating. Thoughts tumbled chaotically in his mind, racing but never finding purchase. This couldn’t be real, surely. This was some cruel nightmare, a twisted joke that would end with the dawn. He reached out, searching for something to hold on to, but the weight of despair pulled him down. He crumpled to the floor, his chest heaving as though it bore the weight of a thousand burdens.

The tears that streamed down his cheeks went unnoticed as he fumbled with his phone, hands trembling violently as he tried to dial the facility, desperation coursing through him like wildfire. He paid no mind to the stares of passersby; their judgmental glances slipped past him like shadows. All that mattered was the thought of his baby, his love, his honey, inside, trembling and alone, in a world that felt impossibly dark.

He remained on the phone with the facility, unwilling to hang up until help finally arrived. "She's inside..." he murmured to one of the many nurses who rushed through the corridor, their keys rattling in the chaos. He loathed the sound, detested that he had to call out for them as if they were some kind of animal control. The door stood slightly ajar, leaving him trapped just outside, frozen in his spot. Through the thin cracks, he could hear your screams echoing through the walls, pleading with the nurses to go away.

You had promised, promised that you would carry him with you, that his memory would never fade from your heart. So why then did it feel you had forgotten?

The weight of your absence pressed down on him like a suffocating shroud. It felt as though hours slipped away as the compassionate nurses gently coaxed you out of the apartment, a final glimpse of you haunting his mind.

You emerged, trembling and fragile, your body shaking as you hiccupped softly into the palm of your hand.

One nurse lingered back, her voice steady but gentle as she informed him of the decision that had been made: you would stay at the facility now. Every syllable felt like a blade to his heart. He yearned to object, to scream and demand that they return you to him, but deep down, an undeniable truth swallowed his protests. This was what you needed; you didn’t need him haunting you any longer, scaring you with shadows from the past.

--

The couch creaked beneath him, its protests more subdued now that it bore the weight of just one instead of two. Your tablets lay untouched; the lid for Wednesday stayed open with only three pills left. It was Saturday.He rubbed his eyes, the red edges betraying the smoke that hung heavy from his cigarette, . Even in the last few months, when your memory had faded into a gentle haze, when you had become that fragile, lovable soul who needed him to care for you, he would have taken any moment, every single reminder he had to give you about flushing the toilet, over this unbearable silence.

He remembered that day, three days after it all happened, when he had ventured to the facility, his heart pounding with hope and fear. But the nurses had gently turned him away, their eyes filled with a kindness that only deepened his guilt. “She needs time,” they said softly, explaining that the trauma could impede your recovery. The truth of it cut him like glass, and no matter how many cigarettes he lit, they couldn’t chase away the bitterness.

"Red Hood makes a comeback to the streets after years of being gone, sparking speculations all across the city."

He had quit everything for you. Every crime, every mask, every late-night shadow's, it had all been for you. But as he stood there, clutching that red mask in his trembling hands, its gaze piercing through him as if it were demanding an explanation, he realized he felt so dreadfully alone. Gone was the person who made him reconsider his choices, who filled his days with meaning.

With a heavy heart and a deep breath, he finally surrendered to the darkness, placing the mask over his head, the weight of the world pressing down on him as he prepared to step back into the shadows.

--

"Red, you're being reckless—" The communicator abruptly cut off, or rather, he had turned it off himself. It felt like it was too late... or perhaps too early? In that moment, he found himself indifferent to the passage of time. His boots felt impossibly heavy, like weights shackled to his feet, and his knuckles throbbed with the remnants of violence. Each movement sent a familiar ache coursing through his muscles, reminding him of the toll this life demanded. All he longed for was to return to the apartment before dawn broke, to slip into your side of the bed where comfort always awaited him. He imagined inhaling the lingering fragrance on your pillow, the one that brought him solace, as he curled up with your favorite shirt. he'd put on the hoodies you’d claimed as your own, their warmth a reminder of you during these long, harrowing nights.

As he trudged across the rooftops, his footsteps echoing like a drumbeat against the cool, hard surface, he noticed the sun barely gracing the horizon through the lingering, heavy clouds. You would have adored today’s sunset, vibrant and breathtaking; the thought brought a fleeting smile to his lips.

Suddenly, his phone rang once, twice. He froze mid-step; the ringing cutting through the silence like a knife. The facility.

With a heavy heart, he removed his mask, digging into his pocket, he retrieved his phone and pressed 'accept' with a trembling finger.

"Mr. Todd?"

...

Forget You 𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐

Dilf! Jason Todd x Alzheimers! Reader

𖹭 synopsis: After being diagnosed with early stage Alzheimers, Jason watches as you slowly fade away right in front of his eyes

𖹭 tags: husband! jason, wife! reader, medical inaccuracies, grammar problems, jason todd is a good husband, big feelings! reader, angst, fluff, self blaming! jason, embarrassed! reader, brief Alfred mentioned, not proofread, no happy ending, Part two here.

A/N: this is my first time actually writing a full fic so im actually kinda nervous. with that being said I would take any form of criticism helpful lol. also this was heavily inspired by clips of the movie "Still Alice" Ive seen online, soo just wanting to give some credit

Your Alzheimer's came too soon, just at thirty-eight. It was never your fault, and Jason always made sure to remind you gently.

"It's still in a very early stage," the doctor had said, yet that did little to soothe anyone.

It began with small things: leaving your keys on the coffee table instead of the clay key bowl you had lovingly crafted, forgetting how many bags of sugar you preferred in your coffee, and even letting days slip by without visiting Alfred at the manor, despite your shared plans to cook together.

You hadn’t quite realized it, but Jason certainly had. His brows would knit together every time he caught you opening the wrong door at home. He urged you to see a doctor, yet you refused.

"Stubborn woman, just let me help,” he would say softly, his lips brushing against your cheek as if he already knew what was happening. It was as if he recognized your fragility, the way you were becoming so easy to shatter. You loathed it. Loathed what it meant for you, for both of you.

You were slowly fading.

"Hello?" Jason's heart plummeted when he heard your voice.

You seemed to be managing well, he thought. He shouldn't have left you behind, he knew that deep down.

"Baby, I’m fine, I can manage on my own,” you had insisted after he told you he was thinking about giving up the mask. But he shouldn't have believed you. He had witnessed your hands shake with uncertainty each time you tried to return something to the pantry, had seen the way your gaze scanned the room as if wondering where the hell you were.

He shouldn't have listened.

"Baby? Baby, I'm here," he called out into the dark after a night of patrol, heavy boots dragging mud onto the hardwood floors you surely would have scolded him for. The house was too quiet, the faint creak of the floorboards echoing through the hallway.

He didn't get an answer, and he could've sworn he heard a small sniffle.

"Fuck…"

"Honey, please, I'm here now," he pleaded, his hands fumbling against the wall in search of the light switch. You always hated the big light, but it wasn't like you remembered now.

The switch clicked.

The sight before him pierced his heart.

There you were, curled up in a corner, tiny and trembling. Dried tears glistened on your cheeks as you gazed at him, ashamed.

“Oh, baby, it’s okay…”

His chest felt unbearably heavy, his heart sinking like lead. He had left you there, unaware, and he would never forgive himself for it.

How long had you wandered those dark hallways in confusion? How long had you waited for him to come back? Were the lives he saved worth it if it meant coming home to you like this? Absolutely not.

You hiccuped quietly, a faint flicker of recognition lighting up your eyes.

You felt so small, embarrassed, and a bit lost. How could you forget the house where you and he had built so many memories? The very walls that had soaked up your laughter and tears seemed like a cruel reminder.

But Jason was never one to judge, not even now. Not when you looked down, avoiding his gaze, afraid of seeing a disappointment that wasn't there. Not when you hugged yourself tightly, feeling the weight of it all.

No, Jason never judged you.

“C'mon, darling, let me help, yeah?” he said, kneeling down to meet your eyes. His voice was soft, though you could have sworn you saw him swallow back tears from the corner of your eye.

His hand reached out, warm and steady.

You took it without a second thought.

“I just wanted to go to bed,” you murmured, struggling to find your voice as you both got back on your feet. His arms wrapped around your waist felt so familiar and comforting, just what you needed right now. The faint scent of blood and gunpowder still clinging to him.

“I know, I know,” he said softly, his chapped lips brushing against your temple. “Let’s get you to bed?”

You nodded, your eyes darting around the room, filled with uncertainty. There was a strange sense of familiarity, like deep down you knew you belonged there, but you just couldn’t quite put a finger as to why or how.

He walked beside you down the dimly lit hallway, his warm hand resting gently at the small of your back as the floorboards creaked softly beneath your steps. He murmured sweet nothings into your ear, a weak attempt to soothe you.

“Thank you, Jason,” you said, your voice barely a whisper as he opened the bedroom door for you.

He shook his head, lips parting to respond, but you urgently cut him off.

“I’m serious, thank you,” you pressed, fists tightening at your sides as you faced him.

You were stubbornly clinging to denial, trying to convince yourself that you hadn't forgotten your usual deli order, that glancing at the clock repeatedly was just habit, nothing more.

A tightening sensation gripped your throat, making it impossible to meet his gaze. Not now, when the two of you stood helplessly watching as your mind began its slow, moribund journey.“I’m forgetting who I am—”

Jason shook his head immediately, his hands instinctively reaching for the hem of your shirt as if holding you tightly could somehow push the dark thoughts away.

“No! Jason, it’s true, it’s true…” Your voice cracked. “I’m becoming useless, just dead weight. How could you even—”

You stepped away, tears pricking your already reddened eyes as waves of emotion surged between you.

“How could you still want me after—” you gestured helplessly around the room, the silence pressing in on you, “after everything?”

Your lip quivered as you bit down hard, trying to stop the sobs that threatened to escape.

Jason froze.

Dead weight.

The words hit him harder than any bullet ever had, like you thought you were something he could just throw away.

He crossed the small distance between you before he even realized he had moved.

His lips crashed onto yours, desperate and trembling, the faint salt of his tears mixing with the softness of your mouth. His fingers cradled your jaw as if you might disappear if he loosened his grip.

“I’ll never stop,” he promised between kisses.

You responded with a quiet hum, a bittersweet mix of relief and sorrow. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, desperate for the warmth of his body as if the smallest distance would ache.

“Not even when you forget my name,” he whispered softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll never stop wanting you.”

The promise settled between you like something fragile and unbreakable.

A vow woven deep into his soul.

That night he promised never to leave your side because he knew his time with you was volatile.

what do you guys think about an angsty fic of Dilf! Jason Todd x Early Alzheimers! Reader? asking cuz it's in the making right now lol

Rules.

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Request rules!

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Info.

Get to know me ♪۫ ׅ

my name is zay, although I would like it if you addresses me as fer—short for Fernanda. I am a Hispanic woman, born and raised in Latin American (very much proud), I have no sexual identity (I like what I like?) texas my baby, fashion student, business pathway!!

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My original idea for this blog was to share ff recommendations but I have rethought it and decided to post my own writing here and there

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