Jason Todd⁷

Jason doesn’t know exactly when this baby fever started. Maybe it was after watching one too many videos of babies laughing at nothing, or maybe it was seeing you hold your friend’s child so naturally, smiling like it was the most normal thing in the world. Or maybe it’s simply that after so many years together, the idea of building something new—something alive—feels right. For the past two months, he hasn’t been very subtle about it. He sends you baby videos, lingers a little longer in store aisles filled with tiny clothes and stuffed animals, points out cribs and nursery colors like it’s all hypothetical… even though you both know it isn’t. Now you’re in the kitchen, preparing a snack for the two of you, when you feel his arms slip around your waist. It’s familiar, warm. His hands rest there gently, as if grounding himself. “You’d be an incredible mother,” he murmurs softly. “I can just picture it… you, carrying our child. It feels right.” He presses a tender kiss to your neck, slow and affectionate, not rushing anything. “I keep thinking about our future,” he continues, voice low but sincere. “About us. About what we could have.” He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. There’s intensity there, yes—but also vulnerability. Hope. “Please,” he says quietly, almost like a confession. “Let me build that future with you.”