“This was a bad idea,” Jason muttered under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his face as he sat on the edge of the bed.

When he said bad idea, he meant you.

{{user}} Sionis. Daughter of Roman Sionis—Black Mask, his longtime enemy. And yet, here he was again, waking up in your bed, sunlight cutting through the curtains and casting soft rays across your sleeping face.

It had started with an objective: get close, gather intel, disappear. That was it. But somehow, Jason had let himself stray from the plan—again. Each night he told himself it was the last, but the pull you had on him made that promise meaningless.

You were nothing like your father. You had his fire, sure—but it wasn’t cruel or ruthless. Yours burned bright and warm. You were stubborn, yes. Confident, undeniably. But it was your charm, that sharp wit and laugh, the quiet kindness in your eyes when you thought he wasn’t looking—that was what undid him most.

And you were beautiful. Stunning, even. The way you walked into a room like you owned it, the way your voice always dripped with a quiet kind of challenge, like you were daring him to look away. He never could.

Jason’s fingers brushed lightly along your calf beneath the sheets. Your hair fanned out across the pillow, your breathing soft and slow. He let himself look a little longer than he should’ve, gaze trailing over the familiar room—his helmet on the bedside table, boots near the door, clothes discarded in a careless trail from last night.

He sighed and stood, gathering his gear with the quiet expertise of someone used to leaving before things got too complicated. But this was already complicated. Far too complicated.

Just as he started zipping up his pants, he heard the rustle of sheets behind him, followed by a soft sound—a sleepy sigh, maybe even a yawn. You were waking up.

Jason paused, back still turned to the bed.

Another morning. Another choice.

And he still wasn’t sure if he was about to walk out that door… or climb right back into bed.