would look just like you... with a temper like you
summary : jason todd and you had once been together, but the relationship fell apart when life became too overwhelming. then, everything changed the day two pink lines appeared on a pregnancy test. left to raise the child alone, you never reached out for help—and no one came. years later, fate intervenes when jason crosses paths with a child who looks unmistakably like him, a mirror of the man you once loved.
genre : angst, hurt/comfort, happyish ending?, y/n is female, mentions of depression and anxiety attacks, miscommunication
angels note : this was lowk hidden in drafts but oh well ...
GOTHAM ALWAYS HAD A WAY OF PULLING PEOPLE APART.
the city thrived on broken promises and shattered glass, and you and jason todd were no exception. both vigilantes, both carved out of trauma, both driven by the kind of revenge that ate people alive. you worked side by side in the streets, fists bruised and knuckles bloody, yet somehow… never on the same page. miscommunication, pride, fear — it stacked up until every mission became a battle not just against gotham’s criminals, but against each other.
it all came to a head one night.
jason stormed into the apartment, his boots heavy against the wooden floor. his mask had long been torn off and thrown on the couch, and rage clung to him like smoke. he slammed a chair back into place, muttering curses under his breath.
“jason—” you started gently, but he cut you off.
“WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP FOR ONCE?? god i can never live in this house without you trying to baby me.” his voice was sharp, and when he finally turned to you, his eyes burned with something raw. words spilled out, ones you knew had been festering. ruthless. unforgiving. the kind of things you couldn’t unhear.
you froze where you stood. jason froze too, regret already painted across his face, but it was too late. the air in the apartment turned icy. without another word, you stepped back, retreating into the bedroom. the door clicked shut with a gentleness that hurt worse than a slam.
jason sat down hard on the couch, the leather squeaking under him. he buried his hands in his hair, dragging his fingers down his face. just a broken man with too much weight to carry. and you? you were the same. jason was the back bone whilst you were all the little bones keeping him and yourself together.
while he stood on the balcony later, a cigarette glowing faint in the gotham night, you quietly packed. it wasn’t much — just your essentials, the pieces of your life you couldn’t leave behind. everything he had given you, you left. the house key rested neatly on the table, a symbol of everything you were walking away from. you closed the door softly, heart shattering even as your hands steadied.
a month later passed, you thought you were piecing life back together. no more vigilante life. a new apartment in a half-decent neighbourhood, a job at a run-down diner, days that blurred into nights. and then — the test.
two lines. two small, pink lines.
you sat on the toilet seat, knees pulled to your chest, sobbing until your lungs hurt. alone. you had left jason — the man who had loved you in his own broken way — and now you had no one to turn to. abortion was an option, but the cost was too much, and the thought of ending something that was already a part of you… it twisted your stomach.
the old woman, susan who you worked with at the diner noticed. she stayed late shifts with you, brought meals to your tiny apartment, helped you figure out insurance and cribs. she became the lifeline you never expected.
and then, four years and nine months later, you had lewis.
he was four now, full of laughter and tantrums, a mirror of the man you once loved. his dark hair, the sharp tilt of his nose, the same stormy eyes. unfortunately, lewis had developed an obsession with red hood. posters, doodles, stories — he called him a “hero,” no matter how you tried to nudge him toward someone else. but your boy was stubborn, temper flashing just like jason.
it all came crashing down the night lewis ran away.
upset over something small — a broken toy, an argument, something insignificant that felt massive to a child — he slipped out into gotham’s streets. you were frantic, searching, calling his name until your voice went hoarse.
lewis, meanwhile, sat curled on a grimy sidewalk, knees tucked to his chest, shoulders shaking as he cried.
that’s when a shadow loomed.
jason paused mid-patrol, his helmet reflecting the glow of a nearby streetlight. he saw the small boy and, for once, the crime-ridden city seemed to fade around him. with a quiet sigh, he crouched down, the leather of his jacket creasing.
“hey, kid,” he said, voice muffled through the helmet’s modulator. “what’re you doing out here?”
lewis sniffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve. when he looked up, his teary eyes widened like saucers.
“you’re—” his voice cracked in awe, “you’re red hood!”
jason tilted his head, caught off guard by the starstruck look. “yeah. that’s me.”
lewis’s lip trembled, but he tried to be brave. “you’re my favourite… you’re my hero....”
jason chuckled under his breath, the sound bitter. “not sure about that, kid.”
but then, lewis lifted his face fully into the light, and jason froze. the boy’s features… god, it was like staring into a smaller, softer version of himself. same sharp jawline in the making, same stormy eyes. his chest tightened painfully.
“what’s your name, kid?” jason asked, voice quieter now.
jason swallowed hard, staring at the boy like he’d seen a ghost. his hands twitched, resisting the urge to reach out.
“lewis, huh? you got someone looking for you? mom? dad?”
lewis frowned. “just mom.” He hesitated, then whispered, “dad’s… gone.”
jason’s chest ached. he glanced down the street, then back at lewis.
“c’mon,” jason said softly, standing and offering a gloved hand. “let’s get you home before she worries herself sick.”
lewis’s small hand slid into jason’s. “you sound like her,” he muttered innocently.
jason blinked behind the helmet, his heart stuttering in his chest.
before they knew it, a familiar voice cut through the evening air, warm and anxious:
the sound of your voice was like honey. lewis’s eyes widened, still clutching red hood’s gloved hand, but the moment he heard that nickname—so unique to you—he pulled free and sprinted toward you. his little feet pounded against the cracked gotham pavement, heart racing and tears streaking down his cheeks.
you were already kneeling, sweatpants loose and long sleeves sliding down your wrists, and wrapped your arms around him as he collapsed into your chest. his sobs shook against you, muffled by your shoulder, and instinctively, you pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head.
“shh… it’s okay, baby. it’s okay,” you murmured, your voice breaking slightly as your hands ran soothingly through his hair.
jason stopped dead in his tracks, barely breathing. time seemed to freeze around him. every little detail hit him like a freight train—the small resemblance.. he didn’t need to ask; the truth was undeniable.
lewis continued to cry into your shoulder, hiccupping, his small arms wrapped tightly around you.
“i’m sorry! i'm sorry!” he sobbed between gasps.
you gently rubbed his back in circles, rocking him slightly. “it’s okay, lewis. you’re safe. everything’s okay now.”
slowly, you looked up. the world had shifted in an instant. jason stood a few feet away, boots planted on the cold concrete, red and black armour catching the dim streetlight, helmet tucked under one arm. his posture was rigid, yet there was a softness there that hadn’t been visible in years. like a ghost emerging from the shadows of the past.
lewis, still holding onto you, finally raised his tear-streaked face toward jason. his small hands were trembling, but he didn’t move. he hugged your leg tightly, seeking reassurance. you bent down slightly, pressing your palm to his damp hair.
“say thanks, lewis,” you whispered gently.
“thanks!” lewis blurted, voice cracking, cheeks red, eyes wide as he looked up at the man beside you.
jason’s gaze softened almost imperceptibly, watching the boy’s expressions flicker between awe and relief. he could see the resemblance clearer than ever—the dark storm in lewis’s eyes, the subtle flare of pride when he tried to be brave. every small detail felt like a punch to his chest. he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, just watched.
after a moment of silence, jason finally broke it, his voice low and careful:
"i can walk you two home.”
you started to shake your head, preparing to refuse. “no, it’s fine, I—”
but lewis didn’t give you a chance. “yes! please! yes, yes, yes!” he interrupted, tugging at your hand with desperate excitement. his little body practically bounced with relief and joy.
jason let out a quiet, almost humourless sigh, the corners of his mouth twitching as he allowed lewis to lead the way. the boy jabbered endlessly the entire walk, talking about his favourite books, describing the characters, retelling stories you had read to him before bed. he mimicked voices, recited lines with exaggerated gestures, and occasionally glared at Jason in playful accusation:
“and the knight! he wasn’t scared at all! I told you! he's braver than than the king!”
jason, despite himself, chuckled under his helmet, a sound he hadn’t allowed himself to make in years. “sounds like she knows how to handle herself,” he muttered, glancing down at the boy.
lewis beamed, puffing out his little chest. “mama says im like the knight!” he added proudly.
you kept a steady pace, holding lewis’s hand, occasionally brushing your fingers across his hair or resting a comforting hand on his back. every so often, you stole glances at jason, who now walked a few steps behind. he didn’t speak much, but his presence was undeniable. the red-and-black of his armour, the way his hands flexed slightly as if restraining himself, the quiet tension in his shoulders—it all screamed both recognition and restraint.
“you like me a lot, huh?” Jason asked quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
lewis’s head whipped around. “of course you're favourite! you're brave, and you never lets anyone hurt the city! right, mommy?”
you smiled softly, squeezing his hand. “yes, he’s very brave.”
jason nodded, eyes narrowing faintly. “just like his mom,” he said, almost under his breath. the words weren’t for lewis; they were for you, carried in the shadows between memories and reality.
the boy then launched into another story, animatedly flapping his arms like a miniature storyteller: “and then the dragon tried to eat the knight, but he tricked it with a magic spell! you know, the one you read me, mommy! and then—”
jason found himself slowing to keep up, listening with a mixture of awe and heartbreak.
finally, as they approached your apartment building, lewis glanced back at Jason, eyes sparkling. “can you come in for a bit? just for a little while? please? i didn't get to finish..”
jason hesitated. he glanced at you, silently asking if it was okay. you met his gaze for the briefest moment, eyes flicking down to lewis again, and gave the tiniest nod. it wasn’t forgiveness—yet—but it was recognition of a bond that neither of you could ignore.
lewis grabbed your hand tightly, chattering non-stop about his favourite books as you reached the steps. jason followed quietly, letting the boy lead him home, silently wondering how he had ever imagined losing this life—and realising, with a pang, that some parts of fate could not be undone.
you opened the door to your small apartment, and immediately the familiar scent wrapped around all of them—warm pasta bake from dinner long since cooled, the faint hint of lavender from your cleaning spray, and the faint undertone of scattered toys across the floor. the apartment smelled like home. your home now.
jason stepped inside slowly, letting lewis tug at his hand. the boy practically dragging him, babbling nonstop about the day, his adventures, and all the little things he had imagined while waiting for you to come home. jason didn’t speak. he simply followed, quietly observing this strange new world he had never known existed—never imagined he had a family at all.
when he bent to remove his boots and slid off his mask, the familiar weight of his armour gone, he realised he could finally just… exist here, as himself. for the first time in years, he wasn’t red hood. he was just a man, quietly following a small, bright child whose eyes reminded him of someone else—someone he used to know.
you stayed in the kitchen, cleaning dishes from dinner that had long since gone cold. you heard him enter but didn’t look up immediately, brushing your hair back and trying to focus on the mundane task. you could feel his eyes, though—sharp, assessing, lingering on your movements. you resisted the urge to glance at him.
“lewis, time for bed, okay? get ready and I’ll tuck you in,” you called softly from the kitchen.
“mommy! but I’m not tired yet! I was just telling him—” lewis protested.
jason raised a hand, quiet and unthreatening. “she's right kiddo” he said gently. his voice startled you slightly—it was soft, but something in the tone carried weight.
and that’s when jason noticed the little gestures, the energy, the unmistakable spark of someone he hadn’t realised could exist: a small version of… you.
meanwhile, you moved quietly toward lewis’s room, guiding him with soft hands. he ran ahead eagerly, barely containing himself, and Jason followed silently, watching from the doorway as you tucked the boy into bed. every gentle kiss to his temple, every careful brush of hair from his face, hit jason with a piercing reality: this child is yours. and I didn’t even know you existed until half an hour ago.
lewis’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he yawned. “mom, can you read me the dragon story? the one you read every night?”
you smiled softly, settling beside him. “of course, baby. close your eyes and listen.”
jason lingered in the doorway, unsure whether to speak or just stand there. the quiet hum of the apartment, the soft rustle of blankets, and the small rise and fall of lewis’s chest as he finally relaxed—it was all surreal. he felt like an intruder in a life he had no idea he had left behind.
finally, lewis drifted off to sleep, murmuring about dragons and knights. you stood quietly, brushing your hands over the blankets one last time before heading back to the lounge room. jason remained there, hands in pockets, helmet gone, boots removed, silently observing you.
“i—” he started, voice low and rough, as if every word cost him something. “i… didn’t know.”
you stopped mid-step, turning slightly, finally meeting his eyes for the first time in years. there was no anger, no accusation. Just a stillness full of weight. “now you do,” you said softly.
jason exhaled, leaning back slightly, absorbing it all. the apartment, the quiet, the child he didn’t know he had, and the woman he once loved. everything he thought he’d lost had a face, a voice, a heartbeat right in front of him.
lewis, asleep, mumbled softly in his dreams, his little hand curling around the blanket—innocent, unaware of the storm he had just calmed in the heart of the man who had no idea he existed.
jason sank onto the couch, quiet and conflicted, every scar and memory aching as he realised life had moved on without him, and yet here they were: a family he hadn’t known he had, all in one small apartment.
jason’s gaze lingered on you, a quiet hurt hidden beneath his usual stoic mask. “you… you never told me,” he said softly, voice low, almost cracking.
you sighed, looking down, fingers nervously twisting together. “i couldn’t, jason. it was the best I could do at the time. you were driven by rage, consumed by everything you were going through. i had already left—I couldn’t risk you getting pulled into it, or him..”
he didn’t speak immediately, letting the quiet settle between you. slowly, he tilted his head, looking at your face. the soft glow of the streetlights spilled across your features, the same face he had kissed countless nights ago, the one that haunted his dreams.
"i want to be there again,” he said finally, voice barely above a whisper. “i want to… be part of this, of him. of your life. if you let me.”
you swallowed, your heart hammering. the words were heavy, too heavy, and uncertainty gnawed at you. “i… i don’t know, jason. it’s late,” you said finally, rising to your feet.
he didn’t protest immediately. quietly, he followed you to the window, the apartment silent except for the faint hum of the city below. you leaned against the frame, the old, familiar ritual of saying goodbye to him before he disappeared into the night resurfacing like a ghost of the past.
but now, four years later, the scene felt painfully different.
jason crouched at the window again, boots back on, a soft shadowed presence against the glow of the city. he looked down at you with those stormy eyes, vulnerable and steady all at once. “please… just think about it,” he whispered.
you looked up at him, heart tightening, swallowing the weight of guilt and longing. you nodded softly, unable to speak, letting the words settle in the silence.
he searched your eyes, seeking any sign of forgiveness, of permission. “you must allow me,” he murmured, voice trembling with raw intensity, “to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
a soft chuckle escaped you, light and tender, breaking the tension. “quoting pride and prejudice now, are we?” you teased gently, smiling despite the tension.
jason’s lips curved faintly at your words. you reached up impulsively, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “i love you too,” you whispered, your voice full of warmth and fragile hope.
he lingered for a moment, the quiet stretching between you. then, like he always did, he climbed onto the fire escape stairs, a familiar silhouette fading against the night. one last glance, one last moment, and he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone with the city—but not without a flicker of possibility, a thread of connection that had survived the years.
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