Surprise, you're going to be a dad! || Jason Todd x pregnant!reader

— Jason gets a voice message from an unknown number and suddenly he's going to be a dad.

!!: fem!reader. fluff. hurt/comfort. +6.5k words. no use of y/n. Insecure Jason. pregnancy. reader's parents are pro-life, reader isn't. English is not my first language. I measure pregnancy time by months instead of weeks (I've never been pregnant, don't kill me). art by @/ciricearts. A/N: Here's the fic you guys have been waiting for!! thank you so much for all the love the sneak peak got, I really wasn't expecting it to blow up like it did.

[dc masterlist]

Voice message from +1 (XXX) XXX-XXX

Hmm… Hi. I don't know if you remember me, but we hooked up like five or six weeks ago… I really don't know how to say this… We met at that creepy bar near Gotham stadium. We started talking, you gave me your number and then left, but like ten minutes later you came back, we talked more, and eventually we ended up at my apartment. Does it ring a bell? Well… what I wanted to tell you was that…hmm…this is really difficult…sorry, I called you, but you didn't answer so I had to leave this message… what I was saying was that…fuck…I'm pregnant, and you're the father…and before you call me back and ask me if I'm completely sure I'm going to tell you beforehand that yes, I'm 100% certain that you are the father. I'm sure because, I think I told you when you started undressing me that night, but I don't usually do one night stands and you had been the only one I've had sex with for a long time…wow, that was embarrassing… God, I don't even remember your name, I saved you as "hot stuff (call again for a good fuck)"…shit…why did I even said that? Forget that, please…Could you call me back once you've heard this message? Thank you, bye, sorry.

It was 5 am when Jason listened to the voice mail. He hadn't even got time to take off his Red Hood suit when he heard your voice through his phone's speakers. He recognized your voice instantly. It had been the first thing that had hypnotized him the moment he met you. Your voice, with such sweet tone, that could tame any beast. 

The moment when he reached the "I'm pregnant" part Jason froze. He had expected you to call him to maybe ask for another night together—god knows he needed it—, or to return him something he had forgotten and that he hadn't noticed even six weeks later. But the word "pregnant" felt like the type of punch that leaves people without air. He was left speechless and completely lost. He could call you now, but he wouldn't know what to say. Because, what do people say when they just found out they could be a father through a voice message, by someone who had been his one night stand six weeks ago? Besides, it was 5 am and you were probably asleep right now.

Jason was still trying to recall your name while he undressed from his suit and entered the shower. The cold water wasn't enough to awake him from the shock and the sound of the bathroom's fan was only distracting him from remembering other detail about the night that weren't you, moaning his name.

When he exited the shower and looked at his reflection on the bathroom mirror he saw a total failure. He wasn't the image of an ideal father. He was a beaten up vigilante with a shitty life and unhealed traumas that still haunted him. He was not made for loving anyone. 

He thought of you, because it was selfish to think about only himself when he didn't knew anything about your situation right now. You could be thriving. Enchanted with the idea of being a mother, and maybe you were expecting Jason to show up as a father for the poor creature. Or you could be feeling as miserable, like Jason. You could be falling asleep crying, or overthinking, or both. You could be hating yourself for not being careful enough. You could be anxious, and thinking about abortion. But what Jason knew for sure was that you had provably fallen asleep with your nerves eating you up alive, after sending him that voice message.

"Fuck," was the last think Jason said before throwing his aching body onto his bed and falling asleep. He couldn't lie, he was praying for it to be a cruel joke, or a side effect from any drugging gas he had been in contact with during patron and he hadn't noticed. He couldn't be a father. Not now, not never.

You woke up the next morning with no answer from the strange man that had got you pregnant after a fun night in a bar. You felt horrible, you had already threw up twice this morning and you were now battling against today's breakfast—that still felt stuck on your throat—for it not to come out. 

You were sure you were pregnant. You had done way too many pregnancy tests, from different brands in different days, and all of then were positive. You had also gone to the hospital, and the doctor there confirmed it. You had been pregnant for six weeks but didn't notice until morning sickness kicked in. 

You had thought about abortion. You weren't against it, and it sounded like the best option right now. You weren't mentally ready to be a mother, and you weren't financially ready to raise a child. You didn't know if the father wanted the baby either—you couldn't force him to be a father if he didn't want to. The problem had been your parents. 

You knew that calling them hadn't been a good idea the moment you heard your mother's joyful voice when she picked up. You loved your parents—you loved how they had always cared deeply for you, and how they had always been there for you—but your mindsets didn't align at all. 

Calling then had been your first error, and telling them about the pregnancy had been the second one, and also the biggest mistake you had ever done in your life. They told you how bad abortion was, from their point of view of course. How you had also been an unexpected baby, but the biggest miracle for them. And, by the time the call ended, abortion had been totally banned as an option. Either way, what you needed now was for hot stuff to answer your fucking message. 

It wasn't until 7 pm that you received a call from him. The name "Hot stuff (father of your child)" (you had changed the name because it was more fitting now rather than "call for a good fuck") was shining on your phone's screen. It seemed obvious to pick up instantly, but the possibility of him being mad scared you, because you didn't know how—and didn't want—to deal with it. You picked up after the fourth tone, sticking your phone to your ear, and biting your lip until it bled. 

"Hello?" You asked shyly. Your legs had starting to shake, forcing you to sit down. 

"Hi, this is Jason. Jason Todd. The man you hooked up with and apparently got you pregnant." His voice was deeper than you remembered. "You left me a voice message last night."

"Yes," you said quickly. An awkward silence filled the line until you talked again. "I'm not going to abort it."

Maybe that was not the way to go. Maybe it had been better to ask him what he thought before saying anything, but the nerves, the sudden feeling of throwing, and Jason's sexy voice were clouding your mind. 

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"No," you confessed, but deep down you knew you didn't have any other option. You wanted to conserve your relationship with your parents, they were the most important people in your life, and aborting the fetus would make them cut ties with you. 

"Then why did you made that decision?" He sounded more concerned than judgemental, and it made your heartbeat slow down.

"Because of my parents, but it doesn't matter," you answered and took a deep breath before continuing, "how do you feel?"

"Fucking terrified," Jason confessed. "I wasn't expecting to become a father at 23. I'm sorry, but I don't remember your name either."

You understood, you weren't expecting to get pregnant at this point in your life, and much less from a one night stand. You told him your name and told him a bit more about how you found out about the pregnancy. Jason, surprisingly—because you expected him to be more freaked out—was listening to your every word attentively and asking questions with a very calm and comforting voice. 

"It's okay if you don't want to, but would you like for us to meet someday?" You asked, hopeful for Jason to agree and get to meet him better.

"Yes, that could be good," he answered and you could swear he was smiling on the other line, or at least he must had a little smirk. 

It had only been three days—three horrible days of throwing up every meal and annoying messages from your mother showing you everything she saw related to baby's—until you met Jason. You remembered him as someone tall and strong, but your expectations hadn't been enough when you saw the man entering the café. 

His big arms couldn't go unnoticed, even when they were covered by the leather fabric of his jacket. And he was by far more handsome than you remembered. You couldn't know the gender of your baby yet, but you already knew that they were going to be blessed with amazing genetics. 

You saw Jason's tiny smile when he spotted you, sitting on a table near the window, far from the entrance. You felt your heart pounding against your chest, and your stomach started turning, when Jason began approaching your table. 

"Hi," he said and sat down in front of you, "it's been a while," he joked.

"Yeah," the situation was awkward, the two-words conversation had already been awkward—this was horrible.

"How are you feeling?" Jason asked. 

You saw his eyes move from your face down to your abdomen, and then back up to meet yours. You noticed the concern in his expression. The floor beneath you was vibrating because Jason's leg wouldn't stop shaking. He was nervous. You couldn't blame him, you were too.

"Morning sickness is killing me, but I'm doing better," you said. 

"That's good." His voice was warm, like he was trying to hug you with just his words. 

"I don't know if you have thought about it, but i need to ask you. Do you want to raise this child with me?" Your eyes were open wide, and you kept pressing your lips together, while bitting the inside on your mouth. 

"Yes." His answer was sincere, and you could tell by his relaxed gaze and the tiny smile he had on his face. "This is ourfault, I can't leave you alone with something this big if you decide to keep it."

Your were grateful for the decision he had chosen. 

"I'm scared," you confessed. You shrug your shoulders, and lowered your head, becoming smaller in front of Jason.

"I can tell. I'm scared too." 

"Guess two negatives make a positive," your joked, trying to lighten the mood. Your heart warmed when you saw Jason's chuckle.

"I guess so." 

The conversation flow easily after that. You got to know each other better, and you had never expected to have so many things in common with Jason. Turns out you both loved the same authors, liked the same food and listened to similar music. You told him about your parents' reaction to the pregnancy. He avoided talking about his family, because he claimed that their situation was complicated. 

He really was too good to be true, but you were grateful that someone like Jason was going to be your baby's father.

Jason and you didn't live together, but he spent most of his time in your apartment. Soon you learned that he was an amazing cook. He poured love and dedication into every meal, and you loved to see how much care he handled the ingredients with. 

"How long have you been cooking this good?" You asked, eating a sandwich he had made for you while watching him cooking dinner.

"Since I live alone. Food is one of the good things I have left, can't fuck it up too." He turned to look at you with a smirk, while he placed the steak in the pan. "How do you like your steak?"

"Medium rare, but you know I can't eat it like that." You took another bite from the sandwich. 

Jason nodded. He knew, he just loved knowing small things about you, and little did you know that he remembered every single one of them. 

"Who taught you to cook?" You asked, and this time you saw how his smirk vanished for just a second, and his eyes filled with hesitation, before his face relaxed again. 

"A good man," Jason answered.

You instantly understood that it was somehow connected with his family, the one he didn't want to talk about. You couldn't force him to open up about something that clearly was significant to him, but curiosity was eating you up alive. 

Dinner was peaceful, Jason ate quietly next to you while you talked about your day and how the pregnancy was affecting you. Having Jason with you felt like a blessing. You could've hooked up with a total jerk—someone who would've ghosted you after finding out you were pregnant—but instead, you were taken care of by a sweet man who cared about you, although he had known you for only two months now. 

Jason's presence felt like a warm blanket in a very cold day. His soft voice, whenever he talked to you, made you feel save, while his little nods, with his soft hums, made you feel listened. You felt special thanks to a man who, after an intense night, you never expected to see again.

"It it good?"He asked, pointing to your very cooked steak.

"Do you want me to lie to you?" You asked with a smile. You knew Jason was only asking to mess with you. He perfectly knew your steak was too cooked and you were just getting used to how pregnant women had to eat their food. 

"What do you want me to make you tomorrow for lunch?" 

"Surprise me, chef," you teased. You had never called Jason that before, but he didn't complain. Instead, you saw his smirk turning into a sincere smile before nodding.

"Very well, my favorite taster."

Jason truly was a sweetheart.

Once dinner had finished and you, with Jason's help, had cleaned up the kitchen, it was time for him to leave.

"You know you can stay and sleep here right? You're not a stranger anymore," you said, crossing your rams and leaning against the wall while Jason put on his boots.

"Got things to do, but I'll consider the offer for any other day," he said, standing straight.

"You got things to do at 1 am?"

"I'm a busy man," he shrugged. 

Jason opened your apartment's front door, but you stopped him before he could step out. 

"Jason." He turned around when you called his name. "My parents want to meet you, if that's okay." 

He didn't know how to answer. You weren't dating or anything like that. Jason was only taking care of you because he was responsible of the pregnancy. He wasn't ready to meet your parents, but he understood that they would want to meet the man that had impregnated their daughter. 

"Oh, fine, yeah. When?" He asked.

"They are coming to Gotham in two weeks. Friday, maybe?" 

"Okay, see you tomorrow."

Jason nodded and you gave him one last smile before he left the apartment. 

The day Jason met you for the first time in that bar, the first thing he noticed was your low-rise mini skirt and your tight top, that snatched your waist perfectly. But, besides your clothing, you yourself were stunning. It was like you were glowing in a place full of people—the main character of a story. Jason couldn't let that opportunity pass, so he talked to you.

However, he now couldn't deny that pregnancy brought a new light to your persona. It was like seeing a literal star being born. The very little pieces of your life, that might have fallen apart previously, reconnecting and shining and making you an ethereal being. 

The moment he stepped inside your apartment, and you greeted him with the most stunning smile possible—while wearing a beautiful navy blue dress that made your four months pregnancy noticeable—he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

You had texted him previously, asking him to wear something nice for dinner with your parents. It was going to be a very private dinner at your house, but you still wanted to look presentable. You wanted to leave your comfy t-shirt and far too big, but soft, sweatpants for just one night. Jason agreed to your dress code, putting on a shirt he had found, buried deep inside his closet.

Also, Jason Todd—the gentleman he was—suggested to arrive earlier to your house to help with dinner. And you—forever grateful for his cooking skills and caring nature—let him move around your house like it was his, arranging everything related to food, while you took care of the decoration and the aspect of the table. 

If you had to define your parents in one word, it would be "strict". They needed security, order, rules, perfection. But after all, it was worth it, because they were looking out for you, and your best, right? 

Everything needed to be perfect. Your pregnancy had already been suspire enough to keep messing up. 

Jason was taking the veggie lasagna out of the oven when both of you heard the door bell. You gave Jason one look from the dinning room and that was enough for him to understand. 

Your eyes being slightly wider that usually, your mouth parted in a tiny 'o' shape. You chest rose with difficulty. You were nervous, and you almost looked terrified. 

Jason left the lasagna over the induction cook, turned off the oven and walked towards you. 

It was not Jason's big hands wrapping around your arms that wake you up from your trance, it was his soft voice. 

"Hey," he said. His eyes moved around your face, like he was searching for an open window to enter your brain and know exactly why you reacted like that. 

He noticed your eyes roaming around his face too, but your breathing was still uneven. Your chest rose sharply, taking in as much air as possible, but exhaling was a struggle—the air hitched in your throat, leaving your lungs in ragged bursts.

"Look at me," Jason's voice was warm and familiar. "Breath with me, don't worry."

You copied him, feeling better by the second. Jason didn't ask, he didn't demand you to fix yourself. Instead, he understood, and he help you calm down. 

"What if they're disappointed?" you asked.

"Of what?"

"Of this," you said, pointing to your entire house. "Maybe they'll think I'm a mess, a disaster. They didn't say anything like that when I told them about the pregnancy, but I'm sure they thought about it, they thought that I was a mess."

Jason called your name. You felt his thumbs caressing your arms over the fabric of your dress. "Don't worry about that. Everything will be fine."

You nodded, muttered a "thank you" and walked towards the front door. 

Your mother threw herself into your arms, while your father stood behind, scanning your place. This was your parent's first time at your Gotham apartment and you could already feel their judgmental and passive-aggressive comments forming in their heads. 

"Hi, dear. How are you feeling?" Your mother asked, showing her perfect white teeth in a exaggerated smile. Her eyes fell to your stomach. "How's the baby? are you eating enough?"

"The baby's fine, mom," you answered. Your mother walked inside, and your father followed her. It was then when your mother noticed Jason, standing straight in the middle of the room, with his hands behind his back, waiting to be introduced.

"Is that…?" Your mother asked. 

You smiled and walked towards Jason, wrapping your hands around his arm, and with your best smile you said: "Mom, dad, this is Jason. He's my boyfriend and the father of the baby."

You couldn't avoid how bright your mother's eyes shined when she heard the word "boyfriend". Meanwhile, your father still looked serious and uncomfortable. 

"Should we eat?" You smiled, trying to ease the tension. 

Your house had never been this quiet ever. All that could be heard was the sound of cutlery clinking against the plates. It was weird, unsettling. Jason was next to you, eating peacefully the lasagna, and his eyes were locked on his food. Across from you, your father mirrored Jason avoidant gaze, while your mother looked between you and Jason while she chewed her food loudly. 

"So, how did you guys met?" Your mother asked, and your father raised his head, finally looking at you. 

You swallowed your food hard before talking. "Well, It's not a very exciting story, right Jason?" 

The truth was, it had never occurred to you to make up a romantic story about how you two met for your parents. Yes, introducing Jason as your boyfriend was part of the plan, but, knowing your mom, you would have expected her to keep asking you about the baby. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

You looked at Jason for help, hoping that he had come up with a better story during those few seconds of awkward silence, so that the two of you could avoid mentioning that depressing bar where you had actually met. 

Jason looked at you. He set his fork down on his plate and placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He could handle the situation; you had nothing to worry about.

"We met at the library a year ago, more or less," he said "I love reading and I'm a very fast reader, so I prefer to get the books from the library, rather than buying a new one every time I finish a book." 

You couldn't take your eyes off of from him. His voice, his hand on your leg—his whole being radiated calm. He told the story as if he were reading from a book. He was compelling and, at the same time, poetic. And by the look on your mother's eyes you could tell that she was not only believing him, but also melting by the man you had next to you right now.

"That day, I was looking for one book in particular," he turned to look at you, and you could have sworn his eyes sparkled with something indescribable—something that made you feel safe, at peace, and loved. "It turned out that, after searching for an hour, I finally found it in your daughter's hands." Jason let out a chuckle before turning his head back toward your parents. “At first I walked away—I felt like a total coward because I didn’t dare talk to someone like her; she looked like an angel. And I’d completely forgotten about the book by the time I went back to talk to her. It was as if the only reason I’d ever walked into that library was to find her. You could say it was love at first sight.”

"How beautiful," your mother said, sighing dreamily. "That child was a blessing, made out of pure love." 

When dinner was over and your parents left your house, instead of cleaning up, you climbed out the window and sat on your building’s fire escape. The Gotham night breeze was cold, but it helped you calm down after those stressful hours with your parents. You sat there in silence, admiring the Gotham skyline. Each building stood tall and imposing in that sad city you’d chosen to call home. 

Maybe if you had stayed in your hometown everything could've been different. Maybe you could be working in your father's business rather than hopping from one working interview to another. Maybe you could be living in a big house rather than a small apartment in a questionable side of Gotham. But you, most definitely, wouldn't be pregnant. 

If you had stayed in your hometown you wouldn't have met Jason. You wouldn't have fallen for the attractive man that approached you in the most awkward but charming way you had ever seen. You wouldn't have felt the need of making your life a little exciting, and invited him to your apartment. And you wouldn't have had the best night of your life. 

You started feeling your skin getting colder and your body shivering, but you didn't want to get in—not yet. Lost in your silence, filled with the endless thoughts swirling through your head, Jason wrapped you in one of your blankets and, with the grace of a ninja, sat down beside you. He didn't say a word. His silence was enough to calm you. He was there, and he would always be there. 

"Thank you for making up that story," you said. 

Jason didn't look at you, he didn't touch you, didn't make a sound, didn't nod, and didn't hum. He just stood there, weighing the impact his next words might have. 

"I didn't change much. I changed the bar for the library. And the book I mentioned I was looking for? It was actually a metaphor of the relief I was looking for that night because, believe it or not, I had been kicked on the balls way too many times that day and I needed to calm down." 

"So you thought I was a easy target?" You looked at him. That's when you realized he was already looking at you, with the same intensity in his eyes as when he told your parents the story. 

"I thought you were beautiful, and I felt like a total cowards. I couldn't bring myself to talk to you at first. And when I finally did, I left, and the came back. I'm stupid, there's no other way to put it, I felt like a high school boy," he confessed.

You both laughed. It was a warm and cozy moment, perfect in every way. Your body leaned slightly toward Jason, as if drawn to him by a magnet.

"I have to confess something," Jason said, and you looked at him, waiting patiently for him to continue, "I don't do one night stands either."

You smiled, because, in a way, you’d been waiting for that confession for so long without even realizing it. It felt like confirmation that you weren't going to be left alone with your child, that Jason wasn't going to leave just to sleep with some random woman. And, somehow, that confession had confirmed that what you’d both felt that night had been mutual: an inexplicable attraction and a deep connection that had led you both to step outside your comfort zones and lose yourselves in each other. Perhaps, after all, that child hadn’t been the fruit of love, but neither had it been the result of an uncontrolled desire.

"In two weeks we will finally know the gender of the baby," you said. "What do you want them to be?"

"I don't care," Jason answered, "as long as they're healthy."

"Yeah… I want a girl, tho."

Dick Grayson could read Jason like an open book. He noticed how dissociated his brother had been lately. His gaze was lost and he kept tapping his fingers against his gun repeatedly in a weird rhythm. 

It was not normal for Jason to look this distracted. He usually had sharp eyes and a focused mind. He was definitely not okay. 

"Jason," Dick called. 

Jason didn't turn around, not even bothering to look at his brother. Instead, he just hummed, indicating that he was hearing whatever Dick wanted to tell him. 

"You're not okay." It was not a question, it was an affirmation.

Dick knew that whatever Jason's answer might be right now, he knew him better. Jason was definitely not fine. His mind was fogged by something, causing Jason to be hesitant with every move he made. He kept looking south, licking and biting his lips. He stayed quiet—he didn't even cursed or insulted. 

Jason raised an eyebrow and looked at Dick over his shoulder, "What?"

"You're acting different." Dick sounded concerned.

"You must be imagining things, Dickhead."

"Jason," He tried again. "Tell me what's happening. I get that you don't tell anything to Bruce, or to Tim, or to anyone in this family. But you can trust me. Please, trust me."

Jason turned around, finally facing Dick. It was difficult. Your pregnancy was not an easy topic to talk about to other people. Mentioning you meant explaining everything, from the humiliating interaction at the bar to the baby Jason was going to be father of in four months. 

It was a fact that Dick was the best option if anyone wanted to let out something no one else needed to know. He kept secrets like sacred prayers. He would take every word to the tomb. And he was Jason's oldest brother and the best person he had in his life.

"She's a girl." Jason finally said.

Dick furrowed. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "What?"

Jason took a deep breath and started explaining everything until he reached last week's news. 

A girl. You were going to have a girl. 

"I can't bring a poor innocent girl into this world. I feel guilty—every single day. I was careless. I don't want to blame her, because it was not her fault, of course; it was mine, and now we're bringing a poor soul into the horrible world. I'm not the kind of person who can hold someone so pure in his arms without shuttering their entire soul, but I can't leave her alone—it's not fair."

Dick listened to Jason's every word, shock had paralyzing his entire body. Dick suspected something significant—something that Jason probably didn't want the rest of the family to know—but Dick never would have guessed it this: Jason was going to have a daughter. 

"You're going to be a father," was the only thing Dick could say. The phrase kept repeating in his mind, trying to normalize it, make it make sense, accept it was real. 

"Yes."

"And you're scared."

"Fucking terrified," Jason said, because it had been five months since you got pregnant and he still couldn't believe it. "I'm not going to be a good father, Dick."

Dick, stepped closer and placed a hand on Jason's shoulder. "Stop talking about you like that."

"It's the truth-" Jason tried to say, but Dick cut him off.

"No. you don't know it. Jason, this is something big, yes, but you're also one of the most caring people I know. No one is going to love that baby more than you, and she's going to grow up being protected by her father and her very cool uncle Nightwing." 

"Don't tell Bruce. Don't tell anyone." Jason demanded.

"I won't, but a baby isn't something you can hide forever. Know that I'm here for everything you need." Dick smiled. His big, charming smile, that made anyone feel slightly better in their worst times. It even helped Jason a bit, and he couldn't deny it.

"What about Emma?" Dick suggested.

"Emma is a pretty name," you said.

"I don't know…"

"You could at least suggest something for your daughter rather than rejecting every name Dick suggests," you said with a playful smile in your face. 

Seven months sharing your every day life with Jason had made you both incredibly comfortable with each other, which was good—really good. Your baby needed two parents that, at least, could tolerate each other, even if they weren't together. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you thought Ricky was a good option for our girl." Jason looked at you from the kitchen with the same playful smile. It made your heart warm up. 

What really made you melt was hearing Jason say "our girl". The words had a sweet taste in your mouth even by only thinking about them. That girl, that was only a few weeks away of being born was yours and Jason's. 

"Ricky is cute." Dick tried to defend the first name he had suggested that night.

"It's short for Richard, and we're having a girl, if you haven't noticed yet." Jason finally exited the kitchen with a warm cup of hot chocolate in his hand. He handed it to you carefully before sitting down next to you. 

"Ricky could perfectly work for a girl," Dick said, standing up from his seat. "I have to leave now, It's always nice being here."

"Thanks Dick, It's nice having you here." You smiled. 

Jason walked Dick to the door. Before he could leave, Dick turned around one last time. "You'll have to tell Bruce and the rest about Ricky eventually, or they're going to find out themselves."

"We're not naming her Ricky."

"That's not the point," Dick said, "the point is that you are part of a family of detectives, and a daughter is something difficult to cover. Tim doesn't suspect anything yet, but wait until he does. My advice is for you to tell them before they come here unannounced."

Dick was right, Jason knew it, but he wasn't ready yet. 

"I'll think about it." 

Once Dick had left the apartment Jason went back to the living room with you. 

This months with you had been definitely not what Jason had expected. Not in a bad way, he just hadn't expected he would be father this soon. He had never seen himself preparing weird pregnancy cravings, but he had—just for you. He had melted while feeling his daughter's kicks every time you placed his hand on your belly. Jason was turning soft, and it was sweet—really sweet. 

"We're not naming her Ricky right?" Jason asked, siting next to you in the sofa.

"No," you laughed. "Do you have any suggestion for her name?"

"I like the name Elizabeth." Jason said.

"Like Elisabeth Bennet from Pride an Prejudice?" You raised your eyebrow.

"It's classy."

"It's somehow cliche."

"No, it isn't."

"I like Sophie," you suggested.

"Sophie," Jason repeated, like he was testing the name in his mouth. "That's a pretty cliche name too."

"Shut up!" you threw a cushion at him, that he grabbed before it hit his face.

"Yeah, Sophie could work." 

You smiled and Jason melted. After all this months with you, Jason's favorite thing about you has turned out to be your smile. It was big, and shiny, and full of love an happiness, despite the complications this situation might bring you. 

"She's kicking again," you said, caressing your belly. "Do you want to talk to her?" You asked. 

Jason had never talked directly to the baby. Not because you didn't let him, but because he didn't want to. It made him nervous—it was too real.

"It's okay if you don't want to, Jason," you said, as sweet as ever, so perfect.

"No. It's fine." He moved closer to you. His hand hovered above your belly, waiting for your permission to touch your skin, and you answered by moving his hand with yours. He put his face closer to your belly and talked.

"Hi, Sophie. I'm Jason, your father. There's only a few weeks until you're born and I don't know if I'm ready yet." He paused to think about his next words before continuing. "I don't think I'm ready to be a father yet, but I have to. I want you to know that I will love you with everything that I have. I'll protect you, because my life depends on it. I'll be the best version of myself, because you don't deserve less. You are going to be so loved, Sophie."

It was 4am when contractions started kicking in. Jason had been staying at your house for the past weeks for this exact reason. Sophie was about to be born. You were giving birth.

Jason was panicking; even after arriving at the hospital and being told by the doctor that his daughter still had several hours to go before she was born, his heart wouldn't stop pounding. 

Sophie was born around 7pm. She was healthy and perfect. Jason couldn't contain his tears. He was now a father of a beautiful girl. He swear the sight of you hugging your new born was the most beautiful thing Jason had ever seen. That was when those three damned words slipped out of his mouth.

"I love you," he whispered, but you heard him.

You smiled and looked at Sophie, "She loves you too-" 

"No. I love you." He was standing next to the hospital bed, but he was afraid of getting closer. "Of course I love Sophie, I've told he multiple times this past weeks, but I have never said it to you before. I love you."

You knew he meant it. You could tell by the way his eyes refused to look anywhere else but you. He looked at you like you were the meaning of life, like you were the only reason he was alive right now. Jason was grateful. Grateful for the daughter you had given him, but above all for letting him be a part of her life, for allowing him to be a part of all of this, for allowing him to get to know you and love you. He didn't care if you loved him back or not, he just needed to tell you how important you had become to him.

"I love you too, Jason," you smiled. Your eyes were getting teary and Jason noticed. He finally walked closer, and with all the love he had in his body—mixed with the fear of destroying you or Sophie—he kissed your forehead. It felt like a promise. He was going to be there, forever. He would love you and Sophie until the end of his existence. He would protect you and Sophie no matter what. Jason Todd was going to be the best father, he promised. 

"Now, I have to call Dick, and the others are going to freak out." Jason said. His hand moved cautiously to caress Sophie's hair with his index finger. He moved slowly, delicate, like she could break into pieces. 

"You never told them?"

"Never found the right time," he lied, and you laughed. 

This was too perfect. Your perfect little family that was born from a one night stand. You wouldn't change this for nothing. You loved the man standing next to you, and he loved you too. Maybe the pregnancy had been unexpected, a mistake, but you didn't regret it. 

And Jason? He had so much to tell you—all about his past, his life as a vigilante, and his whole family—but that would have to wait for another day. At that moment, he was so captivated by the feeling of holding Sophie in his arms, sleeping peacefully, that he couldn’t think of anything else.

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