Leaning against the window, [Y/N] whispered softly to herself.
“I love you, Superman.”
“I love you, Clark Kent.”
“I love you, Kal-El... I miss you.”
The words lingered in the quiet like a secret carried on the wind.
And then—
a shift in the air. A hush, followed by a gust of warmth and color.
Red and blue blurred into focus as he landed just beyond the balcony, the faint sound of his boots touching down lost in the thrum of her heartbeat.
She smiled, a little breathless.
“You took a bit longer than usual tonight.”
He stood there, wind catching the hem of his cape, his eyes soft and almost unsure as they searched her face.
“I was listening,” he said, voice low—vulnerable. “You whisper like that, and it’s hard not to drop everything. And..”
Her heart clenched. The man the world called indestructible looked at her like she was the only thing that could shatter him.
“…Don’t say it like that,” he added with a sheepish smile. “If you do, I swear my heart might actually explode.”
The tips of his ears turned red. Kal-El, hero of a thousand rescues, blushing at a single sentence.
It was so utterly human, so heartbreakingly tender, that [Y/N] felt herself drawn in like gravity.
She stepped closer, heart pounding like thunder trapped in her chest. Her fingers brushed the edge of his suit—warm, steady, real.
And then, without a word, she rose on her toes to could see him. With her heart overflowing, she reached up and kissed him—softly, sweetly, and with everything she felt.
Your voice trembled as it rode the thick, warm air between you, delicate and barely audible.
It sent shivers trailing down his spine like your breath had brushed against his skin. For a second, his eyes shut, as if bracing himself—then slowly opened again, deep and dark as the sea at night.
“Say my name again.”
His voice was low, almost coaxing, but the weight of his gaze held you still.
It was too much—his eyes, thick with something unspoken, made it impossible to speak. Jason watched your silence with a small, amused smile and stepped in closer, fingertips brushing your cheek with impossible gentleness. The touch made you exhale, like the last bit of calm leaving your lungs.
“Say it,” he murmured again, “say my name, will you?”
“…Jason.” You barely breathed it out, his name escaping your lips like a sigh, just as his hand slid behind your neck and pulled you forward.
The strength in his fingers contrasted the softness of his voice, and your hand slipped from the edge of the tub, knocking the showerhead to the floor with a loud clang.
Clatter—
Water sprayed upward in a sudden, chaotic burst, falling over the both of you like rain. You instinctively shut your eyes, heart hammering. When you finally opened them again, Jason was right there, towering over you, droplets of water trailing down his hair and face like strands of light.
You couldn’t look away. Time slowed. Warm water dripped down the tips of his hair, striking your skin like tiny sparks. One fell into your eye, and you blinked hard. That’s when Jason leaned in and pressed his lips softly against the spot—like wiping away a tear.
A kiss. Soft. Fleeting. Wet.
The moment it landed, reality struck like thunder. You pushed against his shoulders, breath caught in your throat.
“Stop, Jay. This… this isn’t right.”
“Why not?”
You stared down at Jason, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest—trying to remember why you couldn’t let this happen.
“I—I like someone else.” You said.
The image of someone else flashed across your mind. Bright eyes, easy smile. Dick.
You swallowed hard.
No. Not now.
“Who? Dick?”
You flinched—wait, how did he know that?—and nodded quickly.
“You sure?” Jason tilted his head, letting out a slow, amused hum, water sliding from his hair to his jaw. Then, without warning, his hand landed on your chest—right over your heart.
You froze.
“Well, Look…”
The thump-thump beneath his palm was too loud. Too real. Jason’s fingers splayed out over your skin, finding your heartbeat like he was tuning into it.
“Your heart says it likes me more than him.”
His smile was devastating. Your breath hitched as he leaned in again. Instinctively, you lifted a hand to block him, pressing it over your own mouth.
But Jason didn’t stop.
He simply kissed your hand. Slowly. Intently. Lips grazing your skin like he was memorizing every line. Your palm burned under the weight of it. Then a soft nibble. Then a deeper kiss.
Your face flushed, body tingling like you’d been dunked in heat. His eyes never left yours—not even once.
“Take your hand away,” he whispered, tongue brushing against your palm in a way that made your stomach clench.
You shook your head faintly. The last of your resistance, barely hanging on.
“It’s just a kiss,” he murmured, “what’s so wrong with that?”
His voice curled like sin against your skin—sweet, slow, tempting. Like the devil himself offering paradise. You clenched your eyes shut.
“No. I can’t.”
“…Why not?”
His brows furrowed. There was a flicker of frustration beneath his cool exterior now—barely noticeable, but there. That hint of impatience only made your pulse race harder.
“I—I don’t kiss friends.”
Your heart was beating too fast, like it was trying to climb out of your chest.
Every part of you was screaming for distance, for clarity—but you couldn’t move.
Not when he looked at you like that.
Not when part of you didn’t want to run.
Jason paused. Then he laughed—low and rich, like you’d just said something terribly cute.
“In that case…”
He reached for your hand—the one still shielding your lips—and gently pulled it away. You tried to resist, but your fingers were weak. His touch was too light, too sure, like he was unwrapping a gift he already knew was his.
There was no more hiding.
Your flushed face, your uneven breath, your eyes glazed with something fragile—Jason took it all in with a gaze that devoured and adored. And then, without breaking eye contact, his fingers laced with yours. Firm. Final.
Jason kept tilting his head slightly, and you couldn't hide your irritation and pressed his hair with your shampoo-foaming hand.
"Does this look easy? Fine, do it yourself."
"Nah. I like your hands better."
Jason's hair, which was quietly lowered with the corners of his mouth raised, bubbled up and rubbed it again. Every time your fingertips slipped through wet hair, you felt emotional like static electricity.
The thin, damp fabric clung to Jason’s skin, and warmth radiated through your hands. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on lathering shampoo into his soaked hair. His dark strands, streaked with faint white, foamed easily under your fingers. Jason stayed still, trusting, head bowed.
Your touch was gentle, but every now and then, your nails grazed his scalp—and each time, Jason felt a shiver crawl down his spine. His fingers twitched, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to stay still, to not react.
Only when you started rinsing did his body finally relax. He glanced up—and caught you staring down at him with quiet intensity. Cheeks flushed, lashes damp, lips faintly parted. You looked… focused. Beautiful.
Then, a single drop of water slid from his hair, traced your cheek, and fell to his own. It was hot—too hot. He flinched.
“Sorry,” you said quickly. “Did that splash you?”
Your smile was sheepish, tinged with that same blush blooming high on your cheeks. Then your hand came to his face—soft, careful—and brushed the water away. Your fingers lingered, gliding gently into his hair again, combing through it like you hadn’t quite gotten enough. Fingertips traced his scalp, slow and delicate.
That electric pull returned. But this time it wasn’t just at the back of his neck. It slithered lower, curling into his stomach, then tightening around his ribs. Jason’s breath hitched.
He couldn’t pretend anymore.
His eyes locked on you—unblinking, dark, full of something that vibrated just beneath the surface. He didn’t say a word. He simply reached out, slow, sure. One hand found the nape of your neck, and with the barest pull, he brought you toward him.
A kiss.
Soft. Quiet. Barely even pressure. A whisper of lips. Nothing more than the idea of it.
You froze.
Your eyes snapped open, startled wide, and you drew back slightly. Not far. Not enough to escape. Just enough to breathe.
Jason didn’t follow. He didn’t push. He just looked at you, water trailing from his hair, slipping over his lashes. The sunlight from the window caught everything—the droplets, the planes of his face, the curve of his mouth—and scattered it into brilliance.
He looked unreal.
So stunning, so achingly vivid, that your gaze blurred. You couldn’t meet his eyes straight on.
“That was a—,” he said, voice low, quiet enough to tremble. “..For helping me.”
⭐️ synopsis: Jason with an arm injury. Y/N offered to help him wash his hair when they went to the bathroom.
“What are you doing?”
Jason tilted his head, eyeing you curiously when you paused.
You gave your head a small shake as if trying to brush off your own thoughts and reached for his shirt.
Now, all he had on top was a black tank top — snug against his frame, drawing attention to the chiseled lines of his shoulders. The way his waist tapered into sharp angles made your eyes wander without permission.
‘God, I’ve thought this before but… his waistline is pretty..hot.’
You tried to shake it off, suppressing the smirk trying to creep onto your lips. Turning your back to him, you cleared your throat awkwardly.
“Hurry up. The sun’s gonna set before you manage to take this off.” Jason called out again.
“Ugh… this one too?”
“You expect me to get it off while it’s wet and stuck to me?” He scoffed with cocky smile.
Okay, fair point.
You stepped forward, gripping the hem of his tank top. The second his abs peeked out, your brain finally caught up with your body.
‘Wait a minute, if I take this off like this… I’ll literally have to hug him.’
You froze, glancing up — only to meet Jason’s eyes staring right back at you, unblinking.
The second your eyes locked with his, you yelped and pulled your hands away like you'd been burned.
“Uhm—No! Absolutely No. This is a terrible idea. …You’ll definitely catch a cold if I take off more.”
“Suit yourself.” Jason smirked, clearly entertained by your awkward squirming.
You quickly wrapped a towel around his arm cast to keep it dry, then motioned for him to sit on the edge of the tub and lean his head back.
“This is uncomfortable,” he muttered.
“Yeah? Try being me right now,” you muttered back.
You stood awkwardly with one leg propped against the tub, shower head in hand, thinking this would be quick and easy.
And..It wasn’t. It was a mess. Neither of you had any clue how to do this — him, never having his hair washed by someone else, and you, having never done it for anyone before. And on top of that, the stress of not letting water splash into his injuries made it ten times worse.
“Ow, Hey! Stop pulling! It hurts.”
“You’re the one sticking your neck out like a tree trunk! Just tilt your head! I said tilt!”
“I said it hurts!”
This wasn’t what Jason imagined when he heard “I’ll wash your hair.”
It felt less like hair-washing and more like she was doing laundry with his scalp.
Finally, fed up, Jason stood abruptly — and because you were awkwardly leaning over the tub, trying to steady yourself while holding him, the sudden motion sent you toppling forward.
“W, Wait—don’t stand—whoa!!”
Crash-!
SPLASHHHH—
The shower head hit the floor with a loud clang and sprayed water straight into the air like a rogue fire hydrant. Within seconds, it was like a thunderstorm inside the bathroom.
“…Sorry,” Jason said.
“…Yeah, Me too.”
You were both soaked, sitting on the wet floor as warm water rained down.
For a second, neither of you moved — then the ridiculousness of it all hit you and burst out laughing together. Your laughter echoed off the tiles, mixing with Jason’s low chuckle.
“Oh perfect, I’m soaked now. I’m gonna give up,” you sighed, peeling off your soaked cardigan and rolling up your pants.
You gestured for Jason to get back in the tub. He sat, and you reached for his head again, cradling it gently.
“Better now?” you asked.
“Not really. Still uncomfortable,”
With that, Jason leaned back and rested his head… on your thigh.
Splat— You flinched as his wet hair soaked through your pants.
“Jason!”
“This is comfier.”
“Your hair is soaking my pants!”
“They were already wet. Accept your fate.”
You sighed again. Loudly. Dramatically.
Then, resigned, you shifted your legs to give him more support.
“There. Is Your Majesty’s neck more comfortable now?”
“Still bony. But yeah, better.”
“Say one more word and I will foam your eyes.”
Jason just chuckled, closing his eyes.
His breath warmed the fabric through your leg, and despite your best efforts to ignore it, the heat spread through your skin.
You took a deep breath, lathered shampoo in your hands, and began working it through his hair.
