Closed

“Well, isn’t this a lovely sight for sore eyes?”

You shiver from the heat of his gaze as it lights on you, setting your skin aflame and making you arch your back with aching need. The cords that wrap snug around your wrists keep you in place – tethered to the headboard of your bed, exactly where he wants you.

You bite your lip to muffle the whimper that threatens to slip free at the sight of his lips curved into a pretty smirk. You can’t – no one should be allowed to hear you. Not when you’re doing something so shameful.

“What sort of thoughts are running through your pretty head, I wonder?” His eyes narrow, and the sight makes another rush of heat flood you – this time rushing in between your legs. You rub your thighs together, a little mewl slipping from your lips as you feel how slick they are.

How long has he kept you like this, helpless and vulnerable to his suggestions? Unable to keep yourself from listening to him detail exactly how pretty you would look straddling his cock, how your lips belong on it, worshipping it? You don’t know, and you don’t particularly care either – you just need.

Insatiable little slut.

You are, and that isn’t even the worst of it.

“Y-Yoongi,” you whisper, tugging at your bindings as you struggle to reach him, to touch. “Please, Yoongi, please—”

“So soon?” Yoongi’s perched at the end of your bed, resting his cheek on his knee as he watches you, watches how you reach for him so pleadingly, so beautifully with a flush high on your cheeks. Watches your lips tremble as they shape around his name. “I didn’t think you’d have it in you. You really have no shame, do you?”

All too suddenly, he’s straddling your hips, pinning your throat to the mattress as he leans in close – achingly close to kissing you, so close – only to brush his lips over the lobe of your ear. “Going so far as to beg for another man while your husband lies beside you. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

You tremble in his grasp as he increases the pressure around your neck and your pussy throbs, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as darkness steeps into your vision. You embrace it wholly, but it’s all too much, and he hasn’t even touched you – hasn’t even let you feel his cool fingers against your heated folds yet.

“Have you even heard a single word I’ve said?” Yoongi’s saying as you gasp desperately for air, unable to summon a response. “Ah, your poor husband – he isn’t even awake to see his wife getting fucked by the very man he hates.”

He smiles sharply, then, and it’s a terrible thing – cruel and sharp – but all it does is make you want. Perhaps, weeks ago, you would have felt nothing but guilt for betraying he who lies beside you, but you can’t think of anyone beyond the god pinning you down.

“Mm, he shouldn’t have drunk so much, don’t you agree?” Yoongi murmurs, smirking down at you; both of you know he wasn’t drunk. It was you who mixed sleeping powder into his tea, after all. “Maybe he could have stopped me from making you mine.”

You’re already his, though.

“Tonight, I’ll take you back with me,” he purrs, enchanting, compelling. Your heart races from the sheer anticipation, eyes growing wide at what he implies. “I’ll fuck you into the mattress and drag you to my chambers while you still drip with my cum. And your dear husband won’t know until it’s too late.”

It is too late.

His lips press against your throat as he murmurs, “You’re already my perfect little whore.”

“Yes,” you gasp desperately as he bites down into your skin so deep – deep enough to break your skin and stain his lips red – as he finally presses his fingers into you, two at once. He doesn’t need to prepare you any further – he’s acquainted himself with your sweet little pussy over the weeks, after all – but he loves the power he holds over you, reducing you to nothing more than a hole to fuck with just his fingers.

He rules over you; your body, your mind, your soul – and you can’t escape him. You don’t want to.

He doesn’t need to ask; you can read the look in his eyes, thighs parting for him easily as he fucks you on his fingers, makes you squirm and gasp and moan in your bed. As he tilts your head to the side so you can see your husband’s sleeping visage as Yoongi slides into you, stretching your tight little hole as it accepts him.

“Greedy, greedy,” he tuts as you can your hips upward to take in more of him, smiling amusedly at you as you crane your neck for a kiss. “You know the rules, slut.”

You do. It’s the only boundary he’s ever set – he can choke you as much as he wants, on his cock or otherwise. He can play with your pussy until it’s raw and sensitive, he can fuck your throat until it aches, can fuck you right beside your own husband—

But he won’t ever kiss you. Won’t ever let your lips touch his, for all you’ve been aching for it. His eyes glimmer at every attempt, lips curving almost sweetly at you as he denies you again and again. And, pathetic as it makes you feel, you’re still drawn to him, helpless.

But you revel in the helplessness. He makes you.

“Moan as loud as you need,” Yoongi chuckles mirthfully, eyes roving over your face and taking in the flickers of pleasure that flit across it. Your wrists sting from how hard you’ve been tugging at them, wanting to touch, needing it. “He deserves to hear how good I’m making you feel right now.”

You clench tighter around him at the thought, eyes tracing helplessly over your husband’s features as Yoongi folds your legs back to your chest, making you feel so small as he bears his weight on you, fucking into you with sharp thrusts.

Your vision blanks out when he rolls his hips just right and you can’t hold back your voice any longer, sobbing out in pleasure as he locks onto his target and makes sure to let his cock strike at that perfect angle. It makes your hands tremble with the effort not to scrabble against each other as you’re forced to stay still; forced to accept whatever he chooses to do with you.

And, terrible as it may be, it makes you burn.

“You know what to do,” he smirks down at you, pleased at how you tremble for him, sing for him. He loves how needy you get, the closer you are to your release – loves that he can command you to do what he wants with the crook of his fingers. And when you’re like this, drunk on lust, on the pleasure he bestows upon you, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

And that includes tearing your pride to tatters with your own two hands.

“Please,” you beg shamelessly, unable to stop yourself; you need it so bad. Already, you squeeze around the god’s – around your god’s – cock at the thought of being fucked full of his cum, feeling his warmth in you. “Please, fill me up – need to cum, please, f-fuck!”

Yoongi smiles down at you, and the sight is nearly enough to have you cum on the spot – and he knows it. He knows how much you love that look on his face; the tiniest curve of his lips that belies his true fondness, his possessiveness. You’re his, in every sense of the word, and he treats you as such.

“You can do better than that, surely.” He chides gently, and you shake your head desperately when he pauses in his thrusts, unable to help the whine that leaves your lips at how empty you feel without him inside you. “I’ve taught you what you need to say; my greedy little whore can speak her mind around me.”

You bite down on your lips to stop a sob from ripping out of your throat, though a single touch is enough to have the tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re shivering from the pleasure, the sparks dancing up your skin from how sensitive you are from having been subject to this god’s whims for so long.

“Please, please, please,” you sob and it’s worth it, seeing the pride on his face as he hears your voice breaking around the words – you’ve put that expression on his face – and it’s more than enough to bolster you on. “Please let me – a-ah – let me feel good p-please, want my pussy fucked nice and full of your cum Y-Yoongi, I—”

You break off, keening when he touches your clit properly, rolling it carelessly between his fingers as he rolls his hips against yours.

“Perfect,” he shivers in visible pleasure at the naked want on your face – it fuels him, makes him feel nothing short of victorious, high on the thrill of claiming his prize so openly. “What a perfect little cockslut – you’ve never felt satisfied with this bastard’s tiny dick anyway, but you have an actual cock to worship from now on, and you like that much better anyway.”

He isn’t asking you – he’s telling you how you feel – but the thought sends a bolt of heat through you and you nod shamelessly at what he says, hips canting upwards so his cock will nudge deeper into you with every thrust. He notices this, of course, but he says nothing – just permits with a curious tilt of his mouth.

“Never needed him anyway,” you say breathlessly, tugging harder at your restraints so you can lean into his touch, run your hands over his perfect form in turn, but you know he won’t let you go – not unless that’s what he wants. “Oh, y-your cock s’all I ever wanted, thank you, thank you, thank you—”

You don’t even realize why you’ve seized up, tears falling down your cheeks as you tremble all over, heated inside out – not until Yoongi chuckles and wipes curiously at the damp skin. “Moved to tears, are we? Did you really want to cum that bad, you little whore?”

And with growing shame you realize that he’s exactly right – you can feel it, the unnatural dampness between your legs – you’ve gone and squirted over him, over a deity. Yoongi can probably pick up on your fear, because his cock twitches inside you – and despite yourself you squeeze hard around him.

“M’sorry,” you slur weakly, wrists falling limp as he reaches out, touches your cheek with inquisitive fingers, runs them over your parted lips. Your head is spinning, and you’re so tired.

He hums noncommittally. “For being such a useless slut for cock? There’s no need to apologize for being yourself, so don’t preoccupy yourself with that.”

“For now—” He leans over and runs a hand over your forehead, through your hair. “Sleep.”

It’s laced with a firm command, and you’ve already lost. Before you can even think to respond, your eyes flutter, slowly falling shut. But, even as your vision blurs, you’re unable look away from him. You’re his, after all.

Your chest rises and falls slowly, a picture of tranquility. He appraises you, dark eyes glinting. Yes. You’ll take wonderfully to your new home. And if you don’t—

Well. 

A few more days spent in his bed will be enough to thoroughly convince you.

You frown, immediately suspicious. Everything in you screams at you not to take the man in front of you lightly, knowing just how tricky he can be; plus, the fact that he’s come to you is really rubbing you the wrong way. Why would a villain ever approach a hero? Or, well, a vigilante, in your case, but your point still stands.

“That depends.” Mark finally answers for you, seeing as how your eyes are still narrowed at Joker’s still form. “What makes you want to talk, all of a sudden?”

“Gravitas.” Joker’s smile grows a little sharper, less cheerful. “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up over what happened last time. You’re the one who ran into that billboard, you know; I really had nothing to do with that one.”

Mark’s body thrums with tension, muscles pulled taut, and despite your terse conversation, you reach out and lay a hand on his shoulder. Getting him strung up right now is a bad idea, especially because he’s usually the one calming you down and there’s nothing in the manual for it happening the other way around.

“Yeah, well, could you get to the point, maybe?” You pull away from Mark, crossing your arms threateningly. “Listening to you beat around the bush like this is really starting to tire me out.”

“Your guy started it first.” Joker says with an exaggerated shrug; mostly for your benefit. “But, if you insist, I’ll move on. You have always been extraordinarily straightforward.”

The muscles of your legs tense as he scrutinizes the two of you, prepared for every possibility if things went south. Joker must like what he sees, because a little smile quirks the corner of his lips, making him look, all too suddenly, very attractive.

You flush immediately at the thought, grateful for the darkness and your shadows for keeping the blush from being visible on your burning cheeks. Where the hell did that come from?

“I’ve been looking into the both of you.” He admits easily, and all thoughts of his appearance fly out the window. “Our last encounter was pretty interesting, even if it was laughably easy – maybe because stupid Gemini didn’t show up, for once.”

Under the feelings of offence that immediately sprout up, you register that he must be talking about Mark’s superhero idol. Based on the way Mark clenches his fists, this is most likely true.

“Yeah, it must be pretty difficult for you, what with him always foiling your plans.” Mark shrugs delicately, voice suddenly cool. It sends a ripple of shockwaves through you because wow, you’ve never heard this tone of voice from him. He’s always been too – too bubbly. Joker must really be pushing his buttons. “I can understand that.”

Joker finally frowns, for the first time tonight, stepping back. And while the sight should fill you with delight, it doesn’t. It makes you feel a little guilty, actually, and you have no idea why.

“I’m starting to see I should’ve thought this through.” He tilts his head slightly, meeting your eyes. Despite how penetrating it is, you do your best to meet his stare unwaveringly; though, admittedly, it’s a lot harder than you thought it’d be. “Maybe I should try and come by again some other time.”

His smirk is sharp enough to cut, but his eyes... they look sad. “For the only competent one of the two of you, obviously. Wouldn’t want to waste my time talking to a stick in the mud.”

With that, he vanishes – yet another illusion. Unlike last time, however, you’re expecting it and, so, don’t bat an eyelash at his sudden disappearance.

Instead, you turn to Mark, finding him clenching his jaw in obvious frustration. You shouldn’t be able to see that even through the mask, but it stands out prominently and, admittedly, has you a little concerned. Why is this bothering Mark so much? You’ve seen him take more serious ribbing with a smile.

At your questioning gaze, Mark’s posture eventually loosens up and he sighs, shaking his head. “I – I’m sorry. I should – I should probably go, huh?”

“Not when I’m the one giving us a lift back.” You raise a brow, perturbed by the sudden 180. “You want to talk about what that was, back there?”

“Not really, no.” Mark’s eyes are beginning to glaze over from the cold breeze. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s just… something about that guy really rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t take anything seriously? It frustrates me that he has the nerve to badmouth J-Gemini when he’s a villain.”

“We’re not really the type to have warm, mushy feelings for the superheroes either,” you point out, though with a sigh you do admit, “I do see your point, though.”

You really only add that last bit for Mark’s benefit. Even though he’d never admit it to you, what he has for Gemini is nothing short of, well, hero worship. And it still doesn’t make sense to you that he’d get that offended over it, what with the constant debates over superheroes on the news. They’ve said worse about Gemini.

Letting his excuse slide for now, you decide to move onto the next most important thing. “What should we do about Joker, though?”

Mark just barely lifts up his mask to rub at his face. “I don’t know. He said he’s going to come to you, didn’t he?”

“He did.” You confirm, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “I guess I’ll be fine; he didn’t seem like he was going to try to pull anything stupid.”

“He’s still dangerous.” Mark reminds you, beginning to look a little concerned himself. “Maybe we should ask for help? I know you don’t like involving actual superheroes, but—”

“Then you know my answer.” You say stiffly. “I’ll wait for Joker to contact with me whenever. For now, let’s go find some people to help.”

Your fingers twitch sporadically against their resting spot on your thighs as you force yourself not to think about it – about heroes and their stupid, unwavering morality.

And their mortality.

When Mark moves to say something, you hold up your hand. “You can’t change my mind, so don’t even try. Leave it alone.”

Mark pauses, blinking lightly.

“I was just going to say that I’m looking forward to, uh, beating some people up.” He’s probably smiling timidly at you from behind his mask. “Want to race to see who can stop more crimes tonight?”

Now this is more like it. It provides you with ample distraction – probably enough to last you the rest of the night.

“It won’t be much of a competition if we know who’s going to win.” You grin at him, bad mood almost entirely forgotten. “Meet you at the clock tower in an hour!”

“Oh, it’s on.”

When you slip back into your room, shadows melting away your suit and replacing it with the clothes you were wearing earlier – shorts and a comfortable t-shirt – you immediately chance a glance over your shoulder. There’s no way you could have been followed, what with traveling through the shadows, but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

Besides… ever since you’ve taken up vigilantism, it’s been getting harder and harder to fall asleep. The shadows are your allies, but they seem to creep in on you as you lie in bed, looming tall and making it difficult to breathe. They whisper at you, taunt you; they question everything you’ve done, every choice you’ve made.

Was it really for the best? They murmur into your ears, poison. You could’ve done better. You know you should’ve.

For that reason, you resolutely choose to crawl into bed and not sleep until you can no longer put it off; at least, then, you won’t have to listen to them.

You crack open your laptop, typing in your long, elaborate password – hello, paranoia – before biting your lip. Your cursor, the source of your conundrum, hovers uncertainly over your browser window as your eyes dart between it and the video file you’ve minimized for later.

Said video may or may not have been ripped from the police tape you had, uh, borrowed earlier. It’s not stealing if you’ve given it back.

But the point is… should you? It’s incredibly tempting, to be honest, to just do away with the tape for one night and spend time perusing Netflix instead. The more you think about it, the more you like the idea. Yeah, you should definitely do that.

Satisfied with your apt decision-making, you settle back into your pillows, pulling up Netflix and setting yourself up to marathon the second season of How to Get Away with Murder. It’s going to be a long night, sure – but at least it’s going to be an enjoyable one.

Somewhere through the season, you realize a little blearily that there’s some weird buzzing noise filling the air. Frowning, you reluctantly pause the episode and grope around your bed until you find your phone; funnily enough, it’s pretty much under your butt.

Blinking at the harsh light that comes from your screen, you quickly lower the brightness before actually reading the notification.

Jung Jaehyun, it reads. Regarding Open Lab Positions.

Your eyebrows fly up, and you quickly squash down the sudden excitement that flares up in you; there’s obviously no way he’s sent this email to just you, and you have no idea why you’re getting this worked up over it. You open the email anyway.

 Hello all!

As I’m sure you’re aware, Professor Kim has a couple of volunteer lab positions open starting next quarter, if any of you are interested. As she explained at the end of last class, you’ll be starting off with basic jobs – cleaning equipment, etc. – but will slowly work up to actually assisting other researchers – like myself! – with laboratory procedures. If you feel this is something that you could do, please send in your resumé to my email, in a separate thread.

Cheers,

Jaehyun

 Holding back a snort at his closing phrase, you evaluate your options.

You’ve worked at a couple of labs before, so you know for a fact that you can do this. It’s just… cleaning things up? You’ve been there and done that and, while you still have to do it even once you’ve worked your way up, that doesn’t mean you want it to be the only thing you do. But, well. Building experience is important, isn’t it?

You ignore the tiny voice in your head that (correctly) informs you that you’re doing this because of Jaehyun. That’s – psh – that’s absolutely ridiculous. Totally.

It’s for your work experience and nothing else, shut up.

You quickly pull up your resumé and give it a lazy once-over – something you would normally never do – because you’re honestly just too tired to give it a deeper glance. Waiting until tomorrow gives your rationality a great opportunity to kick in, which you’re not particularly keen on; plus, you’ll probably give in and ask F/N, who will definitely say no.

You quickly compose a short email saying you’re super interested and would love to join the team; you nearly forget to add the attachment but, thankfully, you end up remembering just as you’re about to send it.

There. You’ve done it. You’ll probably regret it in the morning, but… you’ve done it, and that’s what matters, obviously.

Sighing, you put away your laptop. You’re tired enough to fall asleep now, you think, and a cup of coffee in the morning will fix whatever lingering regrets this burning the night oil has left you with.

It turns out that not even a cup of coffee can help your mood this morning. And it’s not just because of the idiotic decision you made last night either.

“Did you hear?” F/N accosts you first thing, latching onto your arm as you take your first sip of salvation. “About what happened last night?”

You squint at her, taking in her pale face, trembling lips. “No, and I don’t particularly care. I have a 9am to go to, so if—”

“There was a murder.” The words die on your tongue, the bitterness of coffee all-too-suddenly exploding in your mouth when F/N meets your eyes, serious. “Last night, someone was murdered.”

You nearly drop your cup, setting it down faintly. “What?”

“Yeah.” F/N worries her bottom lip, glancing off to the side, looking decidedly pale. “There are pictures all over the internet. There were even some on our school’s SNS, but they’re being taken down as soon as they’re popping up.”

“And?” Your eyes are wide, but you’re giving this your full attention, headache be damned.

F/N exhales through her teeth. “It… it wasn’t pretty. They’re saying that the victim was dead after the first strike – but there are so many wounds on him… stab wounds, but not from a knife.”

She looks vaguely sick as she recalls this and you figure it has to be a really gruesome sight, if it’s unsettling her this much. You’re starting to feel a little nauseous yourself as you realize you were out for a good part of the night – and you didn’t see anything happen.

“Which sector was it in?” You ask hurriedly. “Did they say who did it?”

“Our sector.” She confirms your worst fears and fuck, fuck, fuck, you should’ve – you should’ve been there, should’ve been able to do something. “And, they think… well. Hold on.”

She hurriedly pulls out her phone, pulling up a news site as your heart thunders loudly in your ears, before showing you an image of the victim.

Your eyes grow wide, not at the smears of blood that stain the women’s skin – nor the angry, deep wounds littering her throat – but at the patch of burnt flesh right above her left breastbone. A vivid, elaborate J.

“Joker…” You breathe out horrified, head spinning at the implications. “What – but – no, that doesn’t make sense!”

“I thought so too, but it’s his mark and everything!” F/N looks just as anxious as you feel. “It’s exactly like the one on his calling card and, and – and—”

“And what?” You snap harshly when she flounders, before horror rushes through you. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you!”

“I know, it’s okay. This is pretty… disturbing.” It is, but not for the reasons she’s thinking. F/N swallows before adding, softly. “They think something must have pissed Joker off pretty bad that he – that he resorted to this.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.” You stare in disbelief at her. You might not know Joker pretty well, but isn’t this just too much? “He’s – he’s just a thief! A mastermind criminal, to be fair, but he’s never murdered people before.”

“Well, people change, don’t they?” F/N says, matter-of-fact. “I’m not saying I believe he’s done this, but… what if he has?” She begins to look a little pale again at the implication, and shakes her head. “I think I’m going to take a breather. I’ll catch you after classes.”

You can’t find it in you to respond, mind whirling with the possibilities. What F/N said is stuck in your head, on a dizzying loop.

What if, what if, what if, what if he has, what if—

What if Joker’s the one who really did it? Your hands tremble as you realize that this happened last night; that too, after he came to see you and Mark. You tuck your fingers into fists as you desperately wrack your brain for any signs you could’ve noticed to prevent this. Was he shaky, pale in any way? Was he behaving erratically?

You bite the inside of your cheek in frustration when you realize there’s no way you could know; you’re not – you’re not acquainted enough with Joker for that. Fucking damn it, damn it, then why’d he come to see you? To ask for help… help doing what? Murdering someone?

That doesn’t sound—

“Hey, uh, could you maybe move? You’re kind of in the way.”

You blink at the sudden interruption, eyes growing wide as you register a weight on your shoulders – your backpack – and the chilliness of the breeze against your skin. You’re outside? Another glance tells you that you’re right outside your lecture hall and that, yes, you really are blocking the way.

You stumble aside, breaths stuttering in your chest as you realize you have no idea how the fuck you got here, but. Maybe you just zoned out? That’s got to be it. Yeah, that sounds about right.

Mentally shaking yourself, you start walking into class, wondering how on earth you managed to think so hard about the Joker problem that you didn’t even notice walking all the way to class. You wouldn’t put it past yourself; sometimes you get really lost in thought. Still, you shouldn’t be as preoccupied as you are about this. There’s just something… something about it that begs for your attention.

You snap yourself back to attention as your professor walks into the room.

“We’re going to be starting on the subject of Icarus – and his fall.” He claps his had together cheerfully, pulling up the appropriate slide on the projector. Finally. “Pay attention guys; you’re going to want to, trust me, because your paper on this is going to count for 15% of your grade.”

That certainly warrants some serious focus, and you adjust yourself in your seat, new document sat ready for you to type some pretty detailed notes into your laptop.

Your professor smirks at the rustling that fills the room, as everyone panics and hurries to do what he’s asked. “Great. So, as always, we aren’t going to read the whole thing out in class – that’s for your TA to do – but we’ll discuss the key ideas that crop up throughout…”

You try to pay attention, you really do, but it’s not your fault that your professor’s voice is so sleep-inducing (though it is your fault for also not getting a full eight hours in last night like you were supposed to).

Your eyes flutter weakly, finally drifting shut.

You dream of hands. The run up along your sides, gentle even as they caress you – before their grip tightens by a fraction. Something warm curls over the skin of your throat as teeth graze over your shoulder. Your own hands come up to cradle his head as he mouths at the juncture of your shoulder, hot and insistent – and you tilt your head back, encouraging him.

“You’ve always been so beautiful.” The reverence in his tone lights a fire under your skin, in between your legs. “My darling Nyx, so fucking gorgeous.”

You don’t get to answering him, because his fingers are slipping between your thighs to caress your clit gently, making you gasp and arch into the touch. He feels so good, familiar in the way his free hand rubs circles into your hip as he slowly takes you apart on his fingers.

“Please…” The words fall from your lips easily, and you cant your hips desperately, aching to have his fingers inside of you already.

“You’re so wet for me, sweetheart.” There’s a smirk in his voice – you could recognize it in your sleep. “Look at you, absolutely stunning. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a slut for my cock.”

His fingers pull aside your underwear, finally dipping into your hole. Sweet, sweet relief courses through you as the heat in your veins grows unbearable, and you spread your legs wider, trying to encourage him to touch you more, take you – every part of you, anything he wants.

“Ah, I forgot.” He sounds smug, but he’s still so incredibly hot, even as he retracts his fingers, making a choked whine catch in your throat. “You are a slut for it, aren’t you? You’re even trying to ride my fingers, you’re so desperate.”

He’s right, he always is. You don’t care anymore for your pride or your dignity – you just need his hands on you, his mouth, his fingers, his cock. You need all of him.

“You make it so fucking hard to hold back.” He growls upon seeing your eyes dilate in pleasure, pinching your clit and allowing a strangled moan to escape your throat. “Shh now, darling; wouldn’t want to get caught, now, would we?”

“C-Caught?” You whimper as he catches your skin with his teeth, gently tugging at it, marking you – like you’re his, you think a little deliriously. “W-What?”

He pulls back then, though you fruitlessly try to pull him close again; as he does, his features are slowly illuminated by the light of the moon, highlighting his pink lips, strong jaw, piercing eyes and—

 You jolt up when the girl sitting next to you clears out her desk, letting it retract into her seat with a loud bang. Your breathing’s a little quick, sweat beginning to dot your neck, and you have an uncomfortable ache between your legs. If you were alone, you’d waste no time in touching yourself to get the edge off – you’re so close – but you can’t, and it is excruciating.

Discretely, you rub your thighs together, praying to whatever higher power is up there that you can actually stand on your feet without collapsing. You duck your head, hoping no one can see your flaming cheeks. You feel so dirty, dreaming something like – something like that in the middle of class. You really need to get out of here, maybe get some air.

You quickly shove your things into your bag, clambering to your feet and booking it out of the lecture hall; hey, you haven’t tripped even once. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to figure out who the fuck it was in your dream, who took you apart so beautifully. Despite its inconvenient timing, your dream was actually really hot, and you’re lowkey regretting waking up.

It’s just… it all felt so real. And you really want to figure out who this mystery person is, so that you can at least gush to F/N about it. Maybe it’s one of your numerous celebrity crushes?

Your cheeks heat as you consider the thought in your head briefly, before shaking your head. No, something about that seems wrong. The familiarity in their movements, gestures, isn’t something you could just replicate in your head off a movie star or something. It’s someone you’ve at least met in real life, if not someone you know well.

The thought disturbs you a little, so you resolve to living in denial; you have no idea who this mystery man is, and that’s fine. Totally fine.

You have a discussion for one of your Gen Ed. classes now, but you don’t really plan on going. There’s no way you could possibly concentrate, with where you’re at and, quite honestly, you don’t feel like. It’s a really stupid class anyway, and you’re honestly taking it only for an easy A.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, making you jolt, and you fish it out, checking your home screen for the notification. And, oh, it’s Jaehyun.

A smile creeps onto your lips, entirely of its own volition.

Re: Open Lab Positions

Hey ______!

I was thrilled to receive your application despite a couple of typos I spotted in the actual email you sent me. Don’t panic! I saw your timestamp – you sent it around 3AM, I believe – and I have been where you are right now. I’m not judging you for it.

Unfortunately—

 Your throat closes up here, but you force yourself to keep reading. Might as well rip off the band aid, even if it makes you bleed worse.

 Unfortunately, I’m required to forward your email and resumé after I’ve accepted them to the professor, which is why I want to ask you to send in another email – this time after some proof-reading, of course. I’d love to have you on our team, and I’m sure the professor will agree once she sees your resumé. Does that work for you?

If it does, please make sure to do this by no later than 7pm today. I look forward to working with you!

- Jung Jaehyun

 “Oh my god.” You nearly walk into your apartment door as you shakily read over the email. You applied on a total off chance; you didn’t think it would actually work and land you the job! Honestly, the only thing that could make this better is if you’d get paid for it too, but that’s probably a bit of a stretch.

You hastily type in your entry code, swinging open the door with much gusto and speeding to your room. You don’t run into your other roommate, which is great, really; you probably wouldn’t have paid them much mind. Hell, you might not even have paid F/N much attention, and she’s the love of your life.

You quickly pull out your laptop, barely remembering to shrug off your backpack so you can type properly. You read over it a few times, to be sure, before sending it to Jaehyun with a happy little noise escaping the back of your throat. This is super exciting – you don’t think you’ve ever been this excited.

And okay, yeah, maybe you don’t have a chance to be with Jaehyun. Scratch that, there’s probably no way you could ever do that. Jaehyun’s pretty much a God among men, and no one can change your mind about that. Still, spending time near him would be fun and, well, educational, if nothing else.

Letting out a happy sigh, you settle in your bed, drawing the covers tightly around yourself. With that, you’re feeling pretty great about yourself, which is a welcome change, and nothing could possibly ruin the rest of your day. You don’t even have to patrol tonight – it’s Mark’s turn to slug the night away on his own.

Now that you have nothing in particular to do – and a whole three hours to kill before your next class – your mind wanders. Absently reaching out a hand, you twist the shadows falling in the corner of your room into intricate shapes, smiling wryly when you unconsciously replicate Joker’s mask. You’ve only met him once and he’s already made quite the impact on you, hasn’t he?

You remember, then, that Joker is a murder suspect. That the smiling, playful man you met only yesterday is a cold-blooded killer, one who’s taken innocent lives. It’s – it’s fucked up, is what it is. You’ve actually conversed with a murderer, and that’s a chilling thought.

A tremor wracks through you.

You click open the video file you were supposed to look at last night; the copy you took from the police. In it, Joker’s slinking quietly in the shadows cast by the house’s impressive figure, back pressed to the wall before he darts inside, lightning-quick. There’s no sound, but there doesn’t seem to be any sort of commotion either.

Joker darts back out again, just as quick, but you now know that’s just an illusion meant to throw everyone off his trail. The real Joker is still inside the house, possibly searching for some more items to steal… but you don’t know where he exits from. The camera that monitors the back of the house doesn’t catch anything of substance either; only a clumsy raccoon that knocks over a trashcan.

“Where the hell did you go…?” You wonder quietly to yourself, watching both the tapes again, still finding nothing. Maybe he used a blind spot? Or was it something else?

A little investigation into the matter wouldn’t hurt now, would it? Standing up, you figure: ah, why the hell not. To hell with your day off. While Mark’s keeping an eye out for people needing help, you can do the grunt work for this particular case. Something tells you Joker’s sudden inclination for murder isn’t actually all that sudden.

There must be more.

You shut your laptop, shoving it back into your backpack. You still have time for your next class, but you should probably make yourself a decent lunch; you aren’t sure whether dinner’s still in the cards, not when you have a (half-developed) plan in mind.

Starting your investigation from when he’s supposedly committed his last ‘normal’ crime is going to help you. Maybe you can track what he’s probably done since then, or, at the very least, figure out his method of operating. Whatever the case, you’re going to figure it out, no matter how terrified you are. He’s a known murderer, pretty much, and that means – regardless of the truth – you’ll have to treat him carefully.

Maybe, if you’re lucky – or not – you’ll even get to meet Joker himself. You aren’t sure if you really want to, at this point, but you’ll take whatever you can. You’re grasping at straws as it is; you can afford to do whatever you must to crack down on this.

Tonight, you vow to yourself. Tonight, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.

“Run the tape again.”

The screen flickers dimly, lighting up your gaunt features. Every part of you screams of exhaustion, as it should – you’ve hardly gotten any sleep all night. Your fingers tap against the desk in front of you, restless, and it takes everything in you not to bounce your leg.

The man beside you – your partner – looks at your tense jaw, pursed lips, and frowns. “You can take a break for tonight, you know. I doubt they’ll come back so soon.”

“But you don’t know that.” You correct harshly, making him recoil. Guilt stabs at you, and you sigh. “Sorry, I… I’m sorry Mark, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

Mark smiles at you, and you only now notice the pallor of his cheeks, the shadows under his eyes. Your partner hasn’t gotten anymore sleep than you have. With a large, cracking yawn that could probably split a lesser man’s face open, you shake your head.

The protest – or lack, thereof – building on Mark’s lips immediately dies, and he exhales heavily.

“This guy is unreal.” He comments, dropping back into his seat beside you. “How does he avoid the cameras so well? They were even set up so no one would be able to dodge them – is this his Gift, do you think?”

You cast a wry glance at him, then. “No, Mark, we both know for a fact that his Gift isn’t invisibility. Remember the one time he made some sort of illusion to throw the cops off his trail?”

“Ah, right.” Something like awe passes quickly over his face, though he’s careful to school his expression at your chiding glance. “I forgot.”

“Funny, you were gushing about how wicked Joker was for weeks.” You nudge him lightly, a tiny grin on your lips – probably for the first time tonight. “It was cute.”

His cheeks immediately flush – adorable – and you wish there were better lighting so you could see them better.

Unfortunately, being a superpowered vigilante can really cast a wrench in your budget. Not everyone can be a millionaire-cum-superhero, no matter how much they’d love to be. And balancing the criminal nightlife with your actual life… well. University has always been particularly unforgiving.

“______…” He grouses, burying his face in his palms as you laugh. “Why’re you always so mean to me?”

“You just make it really easy.”

“ ______!”

“What? Am I wrong?”

Mark huffs out a breath, pushing away from the desk and standing up to flick on the light. “I’m not even gonna bother. I know you aren’t going to drop it!”

“You’re – oh my fucking god, turn the lights back off!” The measly light you do have is still blinding, making your head almost ache from how bright they are. “Mark!”

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” He laughs, dodging one of your well-timed swipes. “Alright, I’m going to jet before you actually manage to hit me again. Please try and get some rest? We’ll go over this again tomorrow.”

He looks at you imploringly.

You laugh fakely. “Oh, yeah, of course!”

Mark sighs, resigned, and gives you a waning smile as he moves to leave. He pauses, briefly. “We should really find a new HQ.”

You look around at your converted closet, thinking he’s not wrong. But, again, life isn’t quite like the movies and you don’t really have the money to spare on much beyond your daily necessities. Frozen food isn’t quite as cheap as it used to be around these parts. If anything, you’re lucky you have a walk-in closet large enough to accommodate a small desk, especially in your dorm.

Going to an expensive college in a rich part of town does have some benefits even if, tuition aside, you’re financially on your own.

“We’ll see,” you mumble tiredly, head thumping softly against said desk. “You know how tight our budget is.”

“Yeah, I do.” Mark looks apologetic, giving you a quick wave before he’s stepping out, likely heading back to his own room.

Now that he’s gone, though, your place is entirely too quiet, and it really puts you on edge. At least Mark turned the light on, earlier – you might as well credit him for that – so it’s not as creepy as it could be. But still.

You turn back to the monitor, mouth pursing into a frown as you watch the slight flicker of shadows – the criminal’s only trail. Something about this guy doesn’t seem all that right, and it’s seriously making you paranoid. You’ve never interacted with him, though – that, as it seems, only really happens to the licensed superheroes in your sector – but there’s just something about him…

You turn off the monitor with a sigh, wondering why on earth you’ve stupidly chosen to deal with this guy, of all people. You ignore the little niggling in the back of your mind that tells you that you’re really just trying to put off real-life responsibilities by taking unnecessary tasks upon yourself; that’s totally not true, no. What – why would anyone think that?!

You duck your head out of your closet, tentatively stepping out into your actual room. There isn’t much in there; just your bed, a cabinet for your papers and files, and a dresser in which your clothes actually go. Most of the place is just free space, honestly, and you could have your whole hero setup here, but… secrecy is important. And your closet is a lot more private than your room itself, for obvious reasons.

“ ______ !!” The door slams open, and your enraged best friend storms inside.

Case in point.

“Hey, F/N…” You say awkwardly, leaning against your bed so you can look at her fuming face. “Um. Fancy seeing you here?”

“Why aren’t you in bed?” She pinches the bridge of her nose, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. “It’s almost midnight!”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” You counter, eyes catching onto her mussed hair, puffy eyes. “I was so quiet; how could I possibly have—?”

“Mark.” She says simply, to which you inwardly groan. Of course. Mark “Clumsy” Lee lives up to his name, yet again. “Are you sure you two aren’t dating? He’s been over for whole nights before.”

“What, are girls and guys not allowed to spend the night without dating or screwing around?” You snap defensively. Too defensively, judging by the smirk forming on her face. “No. No, no, no. Whatever bullshit you’re going to spew at me right now, save it, because I sure as hell won’t like it.”

“I’m just saying, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt,” she sings, ducking to narrowly avoid a pillow projectile. “It’s not a big deal! Mark’s super cute.”

“And you can have him.” You mutter in response, shuddering at the thought of dating him. Being in close quarters has really educated you to some of his more… quirky habits, and you couldn’t ever deal with that on a permanent basis. Plus, he’s not really your type.

F/N just rolls her eyes at you. “Whatever, pretend all you want. I know the truth though.”

“Is there something you actually need?” You level her with a flat stare. “Or are you just trying to snoop in on me?”

She smiles guiltily, like the guilty person she is. It might as well be branded on her forehead, G-U-I-L-T-Y, and you really hope she trips over one of her stupid pencils and stumbles down to hell.

What? You can be petty if you want to be, and it’s all in your head anyway. No one will ever know.

“No, there’s nothing important.” She assures you, though you really don’t need her assurance. “I just… worry about you sometimes, you know?”

“Well gee, thanks for making my night a whole lot better with that vote of confidence.” You mutter, sarcastic as ever, though your subsequent words die on your tongue at her sharp look.

“Relax, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted to know if you were going to go to bed, or if you couldn’t sleep or something.” She shrugs. “I’m being rebellious and staying up past my bedtime.”

Well.

You grin sharply at that. Maybe she can stay in the land of the living for a little longer. You take back everything you thought just a few moments ago. “Oh, have I been waiting for this day.”

So. Staying up last night was possibly the worst decision you’ve ever made. Your eyes feel like they might just pop out of their sockets any moment now and the only thing that could possibly make this better is a good cup of coffee. Or, even better, two.

But life, as always, is cruel.

“I hate you.” You mutter at your coffee pot, squinting angrily at it through stinging eyes. “You had one fucking job.”

Yep. The coffee pot, as fate would have it, has completely broken down – just to deprive you of your life, of course, no big deal. Who even needs to be awake for their 8AM discussion anyway, right?

“Stupid, useless hunk of garbage, I should just melt you down already.” Your fevered death chant follows you all the way to the front door as you sling your backpack over your shoulder. It stops there, though, because you’re too tired to keep it up.

F/N’s lucky she doesn’t have to wake up early today, and you angrily curse her in your head because goodwill? It’s all gone now. Maybe she’ll get a really bad case of the Hiccups. Maybe it’ll be terminal Hiccups.

You cringe at your own deviousness.

You manage to bike all the way to class without perishing which, in your books, deserves a gold star. You don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve somehow managed to not get hit by a car, or a bus, or a truck, or another bike, or a pedestrian (though you wouldn’t really mind that last option. People really need to stop looking at their phones while they walk, holy shit). It’s a miracle, truly.

Maybe it’s because you’ve got to attend a Classics discussion; shockingly, it’s one of your more bearable classes. Scratch that, it’s possibly one of your favorites. You might be a STEM major, but the way they discuss mythology in this class really gets to you.

And, of course, there’s your TA too. He’s probably one of the kindest, sweetest people you know – and that’s saying something, given that you know Mark and are even acquainted with Wong Yukhei, the Student Council VP. No, you don’t know how that happened and, frankly, don’t care to find out either.

“Hey there, ______.” You look up at the sound of your name, seeing your TA cock his head at you a little quizzically. “You okay? You seem a little out of breath.”

Yeah, it’s no big, I practically just pulled an all-nighter and biked all the way here using the mothballs that are my eyes, with the level of coffee running through my bloodstream hitting a critical low. It’s fine, it’s totally fine! And if you weren’t the unobservant piece of crap, sweetheart you are, I’d feel a hell of a lot better—

“I’m fine.” You make an effort not to let your gasps for air grow too obvious, giving him a strained smile. “I just, um – just biked here.”

“Ah, I see. You can come inside, you know, sit down.” He holds the door wide open for you, letting you slip inside. “Do you have water? Would you like me to get you some?”

He gives you an appraising look. “Though, something tells me you need something stronger? Coffee, maybe?”

He holds up a thermos, shaking it gently with a questioning look on his face; and, on cue, your mouth begins to water. You need it. You must have it.

“What gave it away?” You chuckle weakly, before shaking your head. “No thanks, Jungwoo, but I appreciate it.”

You last remaining braincells cry, extremely sorry for your loss.

Jungwoo sighs, “I don’t mind sharing, ______, trust me. I promise I didn’t poison it or anything, and I won’t give you much – just a tiny cup.”

He pours some out into the cap of his flask, offering it to you. You stare at the beautifully crafted drink of perfection, steam gently curling off it, and wonder if Kim Jungwoo is a god. He must be, with this sort of impeccable timing.

Still, you’d feel a little awkward taking a drink from a TA that you actually don’t know all that well. That… might not be a good idea.

“I’m really fine.” You smile tightly at him. “I promise. Thank you, though.”

But why?! your brain cells demand, and you don’t have a satisfactory answer for them.

“If you’re sure.” He shrugs it off easily, smile never dimming. He’s pretty cute when he smiles – basically, all the time – but he isn’t really your type.

You think back to the crush you used to harbor on Yukhei. Your cheeks burn when you remember that you still find your gaze fixed to his long, slender fingers on more than one occasion – but you can’t help that. He’s just… too much. It’s unfair, really. But yeah, that’s your type. Tall and handsome, and unfair.

Great, and now you’re thinking about Jung Jaehyun.

You settle back into your desk and will your blush away as you begin pulling out a notebook and a pencil. You don’t usually take notes during section – not unless you’ve got some big essay coming up that he’d review in class – but it gives you something to do instead of just sitting idle.

You quickly sneak a peek at Jungwoo and, seeing that he’s preoccupied leafing through some of his notes, play a game of Catch the Pen. You locate the nearest shadow and guide your pencil through it, propelling it with enough of a velocity for it to hurtle out of another shadow to nestle comfortably between your fingers. It’s basically like playing catch with yourself.

And yeah, it got boring after the third or fourth time, but your only other option is using your phone, which – hey, not a bad idea. A quick scroll through your social media has you holding back your coos when you see videos of cute puppies attempting to do even cuter things. God, do you love dogs.

It’s only when Jungwoo raps his fist against his desk – a cue for all of you to start paying attention – that you notice that the empty desks from before have all been filled up. You quickly stash your phone in your back pocket, before leaning forward on your desk, settling your cheek in the palm of your hand as you force yourself to pay attention.

Ah, damn it. Your eyes still sting.

“Good morning guys!” Jungwoo beams at you, entirely too cheery for your tastes, given that it’s eight in the fucking morning. “How were your weekends?”

Your mind flashes back to your weekend, and you suppress a wince. Yeah. That was… not a good time, especially for the vigilante Caligo – for you. After getting your ass pummeled by a random guy in a mask – a random guy who you think just might be Joker, thief extraordinaire, and the person who you were watching through the footage last night – you weren’t really having a great time.

Not to mention your purpled cheek, courtesy of a deck to the face. You bruise like a peach and you’re really fucking lucky that F/N has a healing ability and a penchant to not ask difficult questions. She probably thinks you’re getting caught up in some shady business – drugs, maybe? – and honestly, that wouldn’t be too far from the truth, if a little exaggerated.

Jungwoo, luckily, takes the grumbled mutterings from the rest of your class that perfectly encapsulate your weekend experience in stride, beaming excitedly and holding up a faded copy of the translation of Ovid’s The Fall of Icarus. “Well, nothing better than this to turn that around, yeah?”

You hold back a sigh as you flip to the page he’ll inevitably bring up. You’d rather read about Icarus, who the book’s title deceptively alludes to, than the rest of these short stories. But, well. As life would have it—

“Let’s talk about what happened with Theseus and the Minotaur, shall we?”

A part of you is grateful that you’ve managed to survive most of your day, and it’s really only the thought of going to your chem lab that makes you perk up.

Now, don’t be misled; you still hate having to go to lab. The actual practice, in itself, isn’t all that hard, but the fact that you have to do it at all is just so ugh. Frankly, you’re only going because it’s required for your major, because fuck chemistry, and doubly fuck organic chemistry. It’s all just way too stressful.

But, well, back to the main point: lab is only really fun because you get a whole two and a half hours to fully appreciate some A+ eye-candy. Not that you would ever actually want to objectify him that way, but your TA is just so gorgeous that it’s unfair, really. Just a smile from him could have you tripping over your feet and potentially spilling dangerous chemicals all over yourself.

As it is, you’ve managed to survive so far, if only to irritate F/N with your very accurate description of how sharp his jawline is, how his dimple is to die for, how he just looks so dependable and warm and—

“Hey Jaehyun.” You greet him as you wait outside the lab. No one’s really allowed in until your TA – Jaehyun, basically – lets you.

Jung Jaehyun, AKA “God who has literally descended from the Heavens to bless your undeserving soul”, smiles at you and – aw, yeah, there it is. That fucking dimple. Paired with his soft, unassuming smile, and the reassuring warmth of his eyes as they look at you through the soft fringe of his hair—

Deadly. That’s what he is.

“Hey ______, how’s it going?” He greets cheerily, not unlike Jungwoo earlier. The only difference is that it’s actually a humane hour of the day right now; a little past noon as opposed to oh, you know, the crack of dawn. You still hate any and all sunlight, no doubt about it – especially with the night lending itself to your element – but at least you’re somewhat awake now.

Jaehyun fiddles with the keyhole before pushing the door open. Is a lab coat supposed to look this good on a person? You aren’t sure.

“It’s pretty meh.” You offer him a shrug and what you hope is not a dorky smile. “Just stressed, you know.”

“Oh, I figured.” He nods, raising an eyebrow. “Apparently Professor Kim’s being super hard on you guys for this first midterm and, I won’t lie, with her past record…” Jaehyun winces. “Yeah, things might be a little stressful. But you’re capable, and I know you can do it with the right amount of hard work and effort.”

Then, like he hasn’t just sprung an unwarranted pep talk on what’s left of your dreary soul, he disappears behind the door. You stare at it like it’ll give you the answers racing through your mind; what the fuck, how the hell does he know exactly what to say, how the fuck is he always so gorgeous…? etcetera, etcetera.

Immediately, you pull out your phone and text F/N.

 You:

Oh my fucking god, I think Jaehyun and I just had a moment

Not like a Moment but he literally just gave me the best pep talk in my life, 5 stars on yelp

Jaehyun’s my TA btw

 Checking the time, you impatiently rock forward on the balls of your feet, biting at your lips. You figure that, maybe, instead of constantly thinking about how gorgeous Jaehyun is, you should probably also start thinking about the experiment for today. It’s just some simple identification tests, thank goodness, but those could take a long time – especially if you have to share your resources with the rest of the class.

Sharing is caring, they say and they’re wrong. Sharing, in most cases, is essentially just shooting yourself in the foot, and you’ll stand by that until the end of time. You used to share everything – even your heart – after all, and where did that get you?

You shove all of that away, filing it into the mental Untouchable cabinet and locking it up. You’re a busy person now, and you can’t waste time delving into the past. For all your bravado and bluster, though, you just… sometimes feel like you always make the worst decisions for yourself and you’re just tired of having to put yourself through the same things again and again. Like – like clockwork.

The door cracks open, and Jaehyun pokes his head outside. “Huh, that’s weird. No one else is here yet?”

A quick glance around you shows you that no, there really isn’t anyone else here yet. What the fuck? You check your phone, though, and see you still have ten minutes before lab actually begins. Ah, yeah, that makes a lot more sense now.

“You can come in anyway.” Jaehyun grins at you charmingly, and you dimly wonder if he knows the effect he has on people, with how easily he throws that smile around. “Maybe get set up? You can’t start before the rest of your class is here, obviously, but you can still be prepared.”

“Of course!” You beam at him, a little shocked at how easy it is to smile at him. With how things have been going, with both your personal life and – ehem – line of work, this is actually nothing short of a miracle.

Jaehyun really is a great guy and you think to yourself, a little sadly, that whoever gets to date him is a really lucky person. It’s not like you expect for life to work out like a fairytale with you as the persevering royal protagonist who gets the prince she’s only ever dreamed of.

Oh, you wish though. Sometimes, you even wish you had the power to make wishes come true instead of the shadow manipulation that comes so easily to you. When you think about it, you immediately discard the thought; you’re happy with your Gift, though it does get a little tricky navigating its faults.

Faults that Joker took advantage of over the weekend, obviously. You seriously screwed that one up though, to be fair, you kind of had to get home pronto to finish up your biology lab report. Still, a screw up is, ultimately, a screw up. It’s not going to change just because you slapped some excuses onto it.

Your fingers spasm, clenching tightly around your lab notebook and digging into its spiral binding as you remember, all too vividly, what happened over the weekend; the way Joker just slid out of your bindings and smirked at you, lips brushing against your ear as he revealed it was all a lie—

The spiking pain in your hand forces you to let go of your book, allowing it to drop onto the table with a muffled thump. It was all your fault, really, for not realizing that, since Joker had a Gift that allowed him to make illusions, he would obviously take advantage of it to distract you.

You were such a fucking idiot.

“Hey.” Your lab partner slides into the seat beside yours, effectively distracting you from thinking about your Weekend Failure some more. “Please tell me that I’m not the only one who thinks that the data for this lab report was ridiculous.”

“You’re not.” A light smile pulls at your lips and you try to forget about everything else. “It was pretty crazy.”

It’s not until you step out of lab a few hours later, blinking the sun out of your eyes, that you see that F/N’s finally responded to your texts.

 Wifey!! <3:

i’m glad he was so kind to you!

and yeah babe, i think you’d realize i know who Jaehyun is by now

you’ve only mentioned him a billion times

you’re such a puppy

You:

He was really nice man, he made me feel like I could actually do this

I mean idk how long it’ll last but it’s nice of him to even try ;-;

And I think you’d realize I know I’m a puppy by now

You’ve only told me, like, a billion times

 Let it be said that you’re never one to let the opportunity to be petty go to waste.

A week later, you’re sprinting up the street between your favorite Thai place and the café F/N likes to frequent, short puffs of breath escaping your lungs into the cold night air. Your worn sneakers slap against the concrete as you try to find a secluded location for you to change covertly into more appropriate ‘crime-fighting’ clothing, when your frantic gaze lands on a relatively abandoned alleyway.

Key word: ‘relatively’, because there’s really only a cat in there, of course.

“Fuck yeah!” You whisper triumphantly under your breath, stepping into the shadows cast by the nightlights, letting their familiar chill wash over you, twist its way around your waist and seep under your skin, a comfortable, cool pressure—

And you’re out again, a couple of blocks ahead of where you started, and sprint up the street, jumping shadows to the second floor of a building, from where you see figure flying overhead.

You smirk. Right on time.

“Hey! Mind giving me a lift?!” You holler up, and with a flick of his wrist, you’re being lifted off your feet, propelled to the very top of the building. A grin pulls at the corner of your mouth, and you give in as you zip along after the figure ahead, who’s dressed in dark blue. “Thanks G!”

Gravitas – Mark – spares a look at you through his mask as he runs ahead, leaping gracefully over to the next building. “Hey Caligo!”

A grin pulls at the corner of your lips through your own mask, fully visible since it only extends to the bridge of your nose. He wants to play it like that, does he?

“Impressive, but you’ve got nothing on me!” You arch in a graceful backflip over the gap between the buildings, landing steadily on your feet.

Mark chuckles lightly at you, shaking his head when you skip ahead of him through the shadows. Like you aren’t going to wring out every advantage your Gift could possibly give you; there’s no way you’re letting him have the satisfaction of possibly being better than you.

“See anyone we need to beat up?” You slow your pace enough for him to run beside you, not needing to shout to be heard.

Mark’s mask covers his entire face, but you’re pretty sure you know the look he’s got on his face right now; that little dip between his eyebrows and the lightest pout on his lips. He’s really too predictable.

“We aren’t looking for people to beat up.” He corrects you. “We’re looking for people to save.”

You come to a stop so you can face him properly, hands settling on your hips. The seriousness of the situation doesn’t stop you from keeping the playfulness from your voice, though, forced as it might sound.

“Now that’s the mind of a future hero-in-the-making.” You shrug, mouth pursing into a tense smile. “The rest of us don’t really care so much about that, you know.”

Mark falters, nearly tripping over himself even though he’s slowed to a walk. “That isn’t what I was trying to imply, you know that.”

“I know.” You provide him with another half-shrug. “I’m just saying that I’m here to beat people up; you can call it saving people or whatever else satisfies your hero-complex but, at the end of the day, someone’s still getting beat.”

No matter how close the two of you are, this is an age old argument that neither of you have been able to shake off; the constant debate of vigilantism versus heroism. At the end of the day, you’re getting the same things done, so why Mark needs to get so prickly about it is beyond you.

He is training to be a hero – which you’ve grudgingly accepted, despite your misgivings – so that might be it. Unlike you, he’s always interested in those caped fantasies, in saving the day and happy endings. Even he has to admit it; Mark is the definition of a happy fool.

And you? Well, that’d make you the tortured genius – though there’s nothing particularly genius about you. Just tortured.

“At the end of the day, we’re still saving people too.” Mark’s voice is low, brittle. “We’ve talked about this before.”

“And we’ve always ended it the same way.” You force yourself to keep your calm, though you itch to blow up at him. “So what makes this time so different?”

Mark starts forward, about to answer, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice. A very unwelcome voice.

“Hope I’m not interrupting!”

There’s a muffled thump, like someone’s landing on their feet, as you slowly turn around, eyes growing wide behind your mask.

Decked out in a tight-fitting leather bodysuit and a black choker, which delicately circles his neck, he looks at you with dancing, mischievous eyes. The black eye mask that sculpts itself to his face prevents you from being able figure out who the man behind the mask is, but that isn’t your priority right now, because you know who this is, standing in front of you with that cheeky grin.

“Joker.”

Written By: Midnight

The amazing moodboard was done by Sangria! Blessed that I am to have such a perfect wife <3