This is a collaborative event where each writer steps behind the camera and takes the director’s seat — choosing one (1) NCT member and pairing him with one (1) superhero or supervillain from any universe.

From Marvel to DC, from cult classics to chaotic originals — anything goes, as long as your chosen duo hasn’t been taken.

Got bigger plans?

If your story calls for two NCT members as main roles, it’s possible — but only after a discussion with the rest of the team. Because even heroes need backup.

The rest? That’s up to you.

Write them as:

📝 a headcanon set

📖 a blurb

🎬 or a full oneshot

Give them powers. Give them pain. Give them purpose.

And when the smoke clears, let the world see what kind of legend they became.

Choose wisely. Once a name is claimed — hero and idol — it’s sealed. No doubles. No rewinds. No second takes.

🎥 Lights dim. The screen flickers. The multiverse opens.

Welcome to — THE NEOVERSE.

RULES — The NeoVerse

Every universe has its laws. Every legend, its code. Before you step into the NeoVerse, remember this:

Any genre is welcome. Comedy, angst, fluff, adventure, smut — take your story anywhere. 🔒 However: no dark content or smut for Ryo and Sakuya. Their stories must remain safe.

How to join: To participate, simply send me a DM! To keep things smooth, please bring two (2) options for your pairing (NCT member + hero/villain), just in case your first choice has already been claimed.

Claims & roles:

Once a character is chosen, they’re locked. No duplicates.

If you’d like to use two NCT members for the main roles, this must be discussed first.

Timing: There is no strict deadline, but let’s try to keep this collab from stretching on too long — every legend deserves its moment.

Masterlist post: This announcement doubles as the official masterlist. If you’re writing a oneshot, please include:

✍️ Word count

⚠️ Content warnings

Future possibilities: If this collab goes well, who knows? The NeoVerse may expand again…

Spread the word: Tag @skyefiles and use the #neoverseisopen! So we can all read your amazing works!

CHOOSE YOUR NEO —

Johnny as Hawkeye — Claimed by @filmrku

Taeyong

Yuta as Joker — Claimed by @skyefiles

EVIL WITHIN US | angst, smut | 8.9k words

For years, you lived in Gotham’s shadows—fiancée to a hero, mother to three boys, invisible in your own life. When neglect and broken promises finally push you to reclaim your identity, you dive headfirst into dangerous journalism, crossing lines you once swore you wouldn’t. As chaos pulls your protectors away, you're left alone for the first time—and someone has been waiting for that moment. Watched, tested, and drawn into a quiet, terrifying game, you must face the truth about freedom, obsession, and who really holds the power.

Doyoung

Kun

Ten

Jaehyun as Batman — Claimed by @skyefiles

EVIL WITHIN US | angst, smut | 8.9k words

For years, you lived in Gotham’s shadows—fiancée to a hero, mother to three boys, invisible in your own life. When neglect and broken promises finally push you to reclaim your identity, you dive headfirst into dangerous journalism, crossing lines you once swore you wouldn’t. As chaos pulls your protectors away, you're left alone for the first time—and someone has been waiting for that moment. Watched, tested, and drawn into a quiet, terrifying game, you must face the truth about freedom, obsession, and who really holds the power.

Winwin

Jungwoo

Mark as Spiderman — Claimed by @chenlezip

Xiaojun

Hendery

Renjun

Jeno as Nightwing — Claimed by @yutarot

Haechan as Venom — Claimed by @tynlvr

Jaemin as Flash — Claimed by @ohmytyong

Chenle as John Constantine — Claimed by @winwintea

Jisung

Sion

Riku

Yushi

Jaehee

Ryo

Sakuya as Robin — Claimed by @peterm4rker

You struggled, doing your best to break free from Batman’s grip. “I was working! People deserve to know what’s happening in their city.”

“People deserve to live.” The words struck like lightning, his masked stare pinning you in place as he practically dragged you into the shadows. Another man lunged at you, a metal pipe raised like a weapon, but Batman spun, shoving you behind a crate for cover, his larger frame shielding yours as his fist connected with the man’s face.

Your pulse spiked, but it wasn’t fear. It was fury. “You can’t keep pulling me around like I’m a child. I know how to take care of myself!”

He locked eyes with you even as the sounds of chaos swelled around you. “You’re trying to get yourself killed. And I can’t save the city if I’m too busy saving you.”

The words cut deep, sharper than any bullet ever could. For a moment, you nearly forgot the war raging around you—forgot everything except the truth neither of you wanted to say out loud.

He didn’t stop moving until the chaos was far behind you, the docks swallowed by the distant echo of sirens. The night air was colder here, cleaner, but his grip still burned where the glove pressed into your arm.

When he finally let go, it wasn’t gentle—it was rough, abrupt, as if he couldn’t stand touching you for another second. His cowl shifted for a brief moment, revealing the pale skin of half his face, his lips drawn tight with irritation.

“What were you thinking?” His voice was low, but it cracked like thunder, rough with anger and something heavier beneath it. “Running into a war zone—do you have a death wish?”

Your chest felt heavy as you rubbed your arm. “I was doing my job. Someone has to show the truth about this shithole city, since you seem too busy throwing people through walls to care.”

His jaw clenched, the silence louder than the distant screams of civilians. He stepped forward; you stepped back. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice colder now, calculated. “Every second I spend pulling you out of danger is a second I lose not saving someone else.”

Batman again—even when he was supposed to be Jaehyun.

You swallowed hard, ignoring the ache in your chest. “So that’s it? I’m just a distraction to you?” Your voice rose with each word, then dropped. “I never asked you to save me.”

His eyes—those unblinking white lenses—locked onto you. For a split second, you almost saw something soften. Then he turned away, pulling the cowl back into place.

“I can’t be everywhere at once,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. And then, quieter—words you weren’t sure you were meant to hear—“Even if I want to.”

You didn’t look back when he pulled you into the shadows again, away from the docks and the smell of smoke. His cape shielded you from prying eyes, the heavy rhythm of his boots never faltering. You were safe—safe enough that there was no reason left to shout at him. So you stayed silent, jaw clenched, notepad held tight in your hand as proof that you hadn’t risked yourself for nothing.

The ride home was silent. The city blurred past the darkened windows of the Batmobile, neon signs bleeding into the night. You didn’t even try to speak; you knew he wouldn’t answer, not with the mask still on his face. And his silence was worse than anger. It left you boiling alone.

When the doors of Jeong Manor closed behind you, they slammed like a hammer striking stone. The cowl was the first thing to come off, tossed onto the coffee table with a dull thud. The gloves followed, discarded as if they burned. Jaehyun’s face was finally revealed, flushed with fury and exhaustion.

“You can’t keep doing this.” His voice was low now, but no less sharp. “Running into danger zones like they’re some kind of… playground. Do you have any idea how close you came today?”

You dropped your bag onto the couch, refusing to look at him. “And you—do you have any idea how useless you make me feel?”

That stopped him. His breath caught, just enough for you to notice. You kept pushing, the bitterness spilling out faster than you could stop it.

“You save everyone, Jaehyun. Everyone except me. You grab me, drag me back home, lock me in, and then you leave. Back to the city. Back to the people who actually matter.”

His jaw locked, knuckles whitening at his sides. “That’s not fair.”

“Yeah? Isn’t it?” You laughed, but it came out broken, sour. “Out there, you’re Batman—the hero who never rests, never hesitates, always shows up. But with me? You’re barely here. Maybe the city needs you more than I do. Maybe you love it more than you love me.”

The silence that followed was louder than the chaos at the docks. He looked at you, and for a moment, the guilt was there—raw and undeniable—but he blinked it away, burying it deep, the way he always did.

And suddenly you wondered if this hurt more than the danger you’d faced at the docks.

“You think I don’t care about you?” Jaehyun’s voice finally broke, louder now, echoing through the mansion’s living room. “You think I spend every night breaking bones and dodging bullets because I enjoy it? I do this because it’s the only way to keep you safe.”

You straightened, your anger rising to meet his. “Safe? You don’t keep me safe, Jeong Yuno. You make me invisible. I can’t even do my job because you want to lock me in here while you run off to fix everyone else’s messes. Don’t pretend this is about me when you’re the one who can’t stand the idea of choosing.”

“Choosing?”

“Yes!” The word tore out of you like thunder. “Choosing between being Batman and being with me. You always choose Gotham. And you always will.”

The silence that settled afterward was heavy, suffocating. He opened his mouth once, then again, only to close it. His throat worked, but no words came. Guilt was written all over his face—a truth he’d tried to bury and ignore, now far too clear to deny.

Your chest burned, but you didn’t let him see it. Instead, you turned and walked down the hallway with heavy steps. He called your name once, twice, but you didn’t stop. The bedroom door slammed shut behind you, the lock clicking with intention.

Jaehyun froze on the other side, one hand pressed flat against the wood as if he could will you to open it. His breathing came out uneven, ragged in the quiet of the manor. And for the first time in years, Batman had no idea how to fix what was right in front of him.

The manor door creaked open.

“Wow, sounds like fun,” Haechan drawled as he stepped inside, shrugging off his leather jacket. His eyes flicked briefly to the guest bedroom door—where you were—and then back to Jaehyun, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth, barely hiding his concern. “What did you screw up this time, Romeo?”

Behind him, Jeno followed, quieter but sharper-eyed, already clocking the heavy tension in the room. He set his escrima sticks down on the coffee table beside Batman’s gear. “Let me guess—you pissed her off, didn’t you?”

Jaehyun didn’t answer. His hand slipped from the door, falling uselessly to his side.

Haechan dropped into the arm of the sofa, arms crossed. “You know, for the world’s greatest detective or whatever, you’re impressively stupid when it comes to your fiancée.”

“Hyuck,” Jeno warned softly, though his voice stayed calm. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed as well. “He already knows he screwed up.”

Jaehyun pressed his palms to his eyes and dragged in a long breath. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to say it out loud,” Haechan cut in, sharp and irritated. “But you meant it. You think you can carry the whole fucking city on your shoulders and she’ll just… wait. Sit quietly until you’re done playing savior.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Isn’t it?” Haechan leaned forward, his eyes holding a kind of honesty that hurt only because it was true. “You can’t keep doing this, Jaehyun. Splitting yourself in half and always giving more to the city. Gotham or her. You don’t get both if you keep treating her like a side mission.”

Jaehyun’s throat tightened. “I don’t want to choose.”

Jeno finally spoke, calm but cutting. “Not choosing is still a choice, Jaehyun. And she’s the only one paying for it.”

The words settled heavily over the room, heavier than any bullet Jaehyun had ever taken. He let himself sink into the sofa, the weight of the night pressing into his bones. For the first time in a long while, Batman felt less like a salvation—and more like a curse.

The alarm went off at six, but you were already awake—not that you had slept. Your hair was tied back, your blouse buttoned with careful precision. Your bag sat neatly by the door, the notepad tucked inside, as if tidiness alone could keep the pain from the night before from spilling over.

A knock sounded, soft and hesitant.

“It’s me,” Jeno said through the door.

“Come in.”

He opened it carefully, stepping inside with his mask in hand. His smile was small but warm. “Morning. You okay?”

“I’m great,” your answer came out far too quickly.

He raised an eyebrow. “You know, for a journalist, you’re a terrible liar.”

A laugh slipped out despite yourself. “You’re starting to sound like Hyeok.”

“Hey, don’t drag me into this. It’s six in the morning,” Haechan piped up as he appeared behind Jeno, hair a mess and his leather jacket only half on. He’d clearly just rolled out of bed and shaken the sleep off. He leaned against the doorway, smirking. “But he’s right—you look like you didn’t sleep a second.”

“Because I didn’t,” you admitted, smoothing your hands over your skirt, adjusting the fabric. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“It’s completely our business,” Haechan said, crossing his arms. “You’re basically our mom. And when mom’s upset, the whole house feels it.” He pouted dramatically.

Before you could reply, a third head appeared—the youngest, Sakuya, still in his Robin patrol uniform from the night before, mask resting around his neck. “I saved some of those sweet rolls from the bakery,” he offered shyly, holding out a paper bag. “I figured… you might not have eaten.”

Your heart tightened, warmth blooming even through the ache. You took it, gently squeezing his cheeks before grabbing the bag. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Sakuya ducked his head, hiding a smile.

Haechan groaned theatrically. “Unfair. He brings pastries and gets all the affection?”

“Then maybe you should try being half as thoughtful and bring your mother some sweets, huh?” you shot back, giving him a pointed look.

“I’m not sweet enough already?” he argued, spinning once and pointing at himself.

Jeno chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Hopeless. All of us.” Then, more seriously, he placed a hand on your shoulder. “But we’ve got your back. No matter what. Don’t forget that.”

The tension in your chest cracked, just a little. You smiled at them—your chaos, your comfort, your family—and for a moment, the heaviness of the night before eased.

From the living room, from the faint creak of the floorboards, you knew Jaehyun was awake. But for the first time, you didn’t look at him.

He stood in the shadows of the room, arms crossed over his chest, watching in silence. The soft morning light slipped through the blinds, and the laughter and conversation drifting from the guest room—your laughter, Haechan’s teasing, Sakuya’s shy words and clingy affection, Jeno’s quiet care—hit him like a punch.

He wanted to step forward, interrupt, reclaim his place in your life. But the words stuck in his throat. Every smile you gave them, every gentle, affectionate gesture, reminded him of how badly he was failing you. Not in the streets of Gotham, not fighting villains or saving lives—but here, in your life, in the small moments that mattered so much more.

The sound of your laughter made his chest tighten. You were glowing, alive, surrounded by people who adored you—and he hadn’t even managed to apologize properly yet.

He pressed a hand against the doorway, fingers grazing the wood, as if touching it might let him reach you without shattering the fragile peace you’d built with the kids.

He wanted to tell you how sorry he was, to explain that saving Gotham didn’t mean he didn’t care—but listening to your laughter, seeing the small smiles of the three you’d made into a family, he realized it wasn’t his place. Not yet.

He retreated into the shadows, silent and rigid, letting you have that morning. Letting them be your warmth while he had only ever been your weight. And for the first time, Batman’s armor felt heavier than any villain he’d ever faced.

By the time you reached Gotham Journal, the city had already slipped into its usual morning grind. Horns blaring, hurried footsteps along the sidewalks, the smell of coffee and exhaustion hanging in the air. People carried on as if nothing had happened the night before—after all, this was Gotham. Nights like that were normal. Your notepad felt heavier in your bag, stuffed with notes, scribbles, and memories of the chaos you’d survived.

Inside the office, fluorescent lights buzzed faintly as you walked up to your editor’s desk. Joshua looked up at you, one eyebrow lifting. “You look like hell.”

“And you look surprised. Were you expecting me to screw it up?” you shot back, dropping your notepad—and every hard-earned detail inside it—onto his desk with a satisfying thump.

He opened it, flipping through photos, notes, and statements. His hands hovered nervously, fingers tapping the edge of the desk. Every moment of doubt from the night before—every step you’d taken into the line of fire, every risk you’d accepted—flashed through your mind.

Then he looked up, eyes lit with approval. “This… this is great. Better than great. This is exclusive. Gotham Journal doesn’t get material like this every day. I want you on this immediately.”

Your heart soared. The adrenaline from last night’s danger was nothing compared to the rush of seeing your work finally recognized. “Right now,” you said, grabbing your notepad.

He nodded. “Go. Show the city what it’s been missing.”

As you walked to your desk, the hum of the newsroom surrounding you, a smile spread across your face. The risks, the fights, the tension—it had all been worth it. Every scrape, every heartbreak, every pulled muscle had led to this moment. Gotham was messy, terrifying, and sometimes cruel—but it was alive. And you? You were exactly where you belonged.

Outside, hidden in the shadows, a figure watched. Tall, slender, a smile carving across his face like a slash of madness. He had no intention of stepping into the light yet. There was no need. All he needed was to see you—to watch you thrive, unaware of the attention trained so carefully on you.

The way you leaned over your notes, hair falling into your face in soft disarray, made his chest tighten with a strange blend of amusement and obsession. He’d seen you in danger, imagined you fighting for your life, watched the Bat snatch you away from the chaos. But now—seeing you calm, in control, glowing with the kind of purpose that made people notice—it made the pursuit irresistible.

He didn’t move. He simply lingered in the shadows, plotting, savoring the thrill of remaining unseen. And somewhere, deep down, he knew the game was only just beginning.

The boys were in the middle of gearing up—Haechan tightening his gloves, Jeno adjusting his mask, Sakuya checking his sword and hood. You sat on the edge of the sofa, legs tucked beneath you, a book already forgotten on the coffee table. From there, you could see everything, hear the soft murmur of instructions and the scrape of leather and metal as they prepared.

“Remember what I said,” you told them, your voice firm despite the edge of exhaustion beneath it. “Everything on camera. No surprises. Or you deal with the consequences.”

Haechan smirked as he adjusted the camera on his suit. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his tone teasing. “Don’t worry—we’ll make sure Gotham knows who’s in control tonight.”

A tired laugh slipped out of you as you watched them, the tension finally easing from your shoulders. One by one, the three of them stepped closer, pressing kisses to your cheeks and one to your forehead before heading into the Batcave. Jeno lingered a second longer, his eyes soft. “Take care,” he murmured, leaning in to place a quick, affectionate kiss against your temple.

Jaehyun appeared last, pausing in the doorway. He looked at you—his mask long gone, just the man beneath it standing there. He hesitated, then stepped closer, brushing a quick, almost reluctant kiss against your lips before disappearing into the shadows.

You let out a quiet huff, slumping back against the sofa. “What am I even doing with my life, Alfred?” you murmured to the butler, your voice rough with fatigue.

He paused by the window, his expression gentle but knowing. “That is for you to decide, miss. But if I may say so—you are keeping this household running better than most ever could.”

You closed your eyes, letting the quiet settle around you.

You really wanted to believe him.

Six years. Six years as Jaehyun’s fiancée. Nine years of him being either Batman, the powerful CEO Jeong, or some exhausting combination of both. Six years without even a mention of a wedding. Three years without intimacy that actually mattered. Sex had become a distant memory, reduced to rare moments of obligation rather than desire.

The only part of the house that felt worth it—the only warmth not overshadowed by tension—were the kids. Jeno, Haechan, and Sakuya. They were chaos and laughter and life. Everything you’d ever wanted. Your children.

Alfred’s quiet presence beside you was comforting, but it couldn’t fill the hollow ache in your chest. “I don’t even know who he is anymore,” you whispered. “I’ve been… Jaehyun’s fiancée for so long, I don’t even know what it means to be me.”

The sofa creaked as you leaned back further, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the weight of your life pressing heavier than Gotham’s chaos ever could.

Alfred moved silently toward the kitchen to prepare tea, leaving you alone with your thoughts. He knew you needed that. The mansion suddenly felt larger—too still, too empty. The echo of Jaehyun’s kiss and the warmth of the children’s affection lingered only as reminders of everything you had let slip by while you were just… waiting.

Out of the corner of your eye, your phone vibrated. You picked it up lazily, expecting an update from the boys—maybe, even though you knew they’d be busy. No messages. No calls. Nothing. Just the fragile sensation of being watched, even if you didn’t yet know by whom.

Somewhere in the city, unseen, the Joker leaned against a rooftop, hidden in the shadows. His gaze lingered on the same windows you stared through, noting every small movement, every breath, every restless flick of your fingers as you turned the pages of the book you’d gone back to reading.

He wasn’t in a hurry. Chaos, the thrill, the slow unraveling of control—it was all far more delicious when savored. And you, completely unaware, had become the perfect trap.

You leaned back against the sofa, letting out a long, weary sigh. The quiet was both a relief and a warning you couldn’t hear yet. Somewhere in Gotham, the pieces of the Joker’s game were already moving.

You moved through the newsroom like a storm in soft, comfortable shoes—flipping through pages, flagging names, scribbling notes in the margins.

When a lead came in—one that could compromise someone far too powerful in Gotham—you paused for just a second before deciding it was worth printing anyway. The editor looked at you, eyebrows raised. You gave a small smile and slipped the page back into the stack.

The night before, you had fallen asleep crying, thinking about your failed relationship. You waited for the kids to come back, praying they’d return with something worthwhile on the recordings—but there was nothing. You stayed up anyway, since sleep refused to come, and when they finally returned, you rushed to check the footage, only to be disappointed all over again.

The boys were a little frustrated too. There hadn’t been much action, nothing out of the ordinary—especially disappointing since you’d been expecting something. But there was nothing they could change. They wished you good night, if you managed to sleep, and headed off to their respective rooms.

Later, out in the field, you lingered a moment longer than necessary near a restricted-access area, snapping photographs from an angle that was, technically, illegal. You didn’t care. You needed the story, and you were going to get it.

An informant gave you a name—whispered in the shadows, the kind of name that could get you killed if spoken out loud. You wrote it down in your notebook anyway, carefully and precisely, already thinking about how you could use it.

By the time you returned to the office, your notebook was full of information that was half legal and half dangerous. No one noticed. No one tried to stop you. And the thrill left a sharp, lingering taste behind.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Haechan: Be careful.

Maybe you weren’t as subtle as you thought. At least not to your son.

You didn’t reply. You just went back to work.

Once in your office, you spread your notes and photos across the desk, piecing together the threads of the story. You made a call to someone who technically wasn’t listed as a contact, asking for confirmation. When he hesitated, you pushed. The line clicked, the information came through, and you hung up with a satisfied smile.

A delivery arrived—anonymous and unmarked. Inside was a folder filled with photographs and security camera footage, along with a handwritten note: For your eyes only. You skimmed through it, flipping past images of a meeting that should never have been recorded, and the corner of your mouth twitched into something resembling a smile.

Then you edited, annotated, highlighted—connecting dots no one else had noticed. Or maybe no one else had dared to. Every decision, every small risk, felt like stepping off a ledge, but you didn’t hesitate. Not once.

By the time you finally relaxed, leaning back in your chair, tired fingers tracing the edge of the desk, your notebook heavy with the day’s work, you could feel the city murmuring beneath your hands. The risks, the rules, the limits—they were just another set of lines to cross, and crossing them felt so… right.

The office slowly emptied, the buzz of phones fading into a quiet hum. You stayed behind, reviewing your notes one last time, rereading details, marking contradictions. It had to be perfect. A second Pulitzer would look incredible on you.

A shadow passed across the blinds, but when you looked up, the street was empty. The only sound was a car door clicking somewhere below. You ignored it and smiled to yourself—no one watching you, no one telling you to stop. You felt untouchable, even if only within the city’s fragile rules.

You checked the time, realizing one of the kids might be coming to pick you up. You began gathering your things. The thrill wasn’t just the story itself—it was knowing how close you were to the edge, how much power rested in your hands.

Every decision, every small rule or law you’d broken—it had all been worth it. And you knew you wouldn’t stop.

You had forgotten the promise you made when you graduated. But there was still time to make good on it.

Anything and everything for a good story—and above all, to keep Gotham’s citizens informed about what was really happening in their city. You’d bring them all down eventually. After all, Gotham’s so-called vigilante, Batman, was starting to look more like a placebo than a solution.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Jeno: Sorry, Mom. Alfred is on his way to pick you up.

You sighed, but you understood. Nothing was going to ruin that night anyway. You’d spent far too long on Jaehyun’s leash. Now, finally slipping free, you needed to celebrate.

A shame Lois lived so far away.

The front door clicked shut, followed by the familiar scrape of boots against the floor. You were still in your coat, your bag strap heavy on your shoulder, when Alfred’s footsteps sounded behind you as well.

“Miss, do you need anything? Shall I draw you a bath?” the butler asked. You turned to him with a half-smile.

“No, Alfred. I’ll take care of it myself, thank you.” You dismissed him and took a few steps forward before stopping and turning back again. “The boys won’t—”

Your words were cut off as the door opened once more.

Your favorite people were coming home.

Haechan was the first to walk in, kicking off his jacket with a grin.

“You should’ve seen it out there,” he said, tossing a takeout bag onto the coffee table. “Chaos, explosions—and me, of course, looking heroic as ever.”

Jeno followed, quieter, setting his escrima sticks neatly beside the bag, his eyes flicking toward you. “Don’t forget who was actually keeping the city together while you were playing the flashy hero,” he teased, warmth softening his tone. “Mom, we managed to get some footage from the cameras. Sakuya will send it to you tomorrow.” He stepped closer and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Haechan mirrored his brother’s movement, pulling you into a tight hug and planting a loud kiss on your cheek as he took your bag from you.

Sakuya came in last, hood clutched in one hand, eyes fixed on you. “You didn’t go too far today, did you?”

You smirked, draping your coat over a chair. “Far enough,” you replied, letting the weight of your independence show. “You three should be out saving Gotham, not babysitting me.”

Haechan laughed, looping an arm around your shoulders. “We can do both at the same time, ma’am.” He shot you a knowing look, and you remembered the message from earlier. They absolutely could.

Jeno leaned in, carefully pressing his forehead to your temple. “We missed you,” he murmured.

Sakuya tugged lightly at your sleeve, his smile small but affectionate. You pulled your youngest into your arms, holding him close.

You let out a slow breath, allowing the warmth of the three of them to settle around you. Everything felt calm—happy—with them. But beneath it all, the thrill of the day still buzzed under your skin. You wanted to tell them. Tell them that, finally, after years, you felt alive. Free. But you couldn’t. Not because you didn’t trust them—because you trusted them too much. You knew they’d hover even closer, protect you at any cost.

When the quiet lingered, Jaehyun appeared in the doorway. He was out of his gear now, dressed casually, dark eyes tense. He stepped closer, hesitating, before pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“I—”

You pulled back slightly. He noticed. His jaw tightened.

The boys’ eyes flicked between the two of you, silently hoping you’d be okay—while knowing, just as well, that you were never someone who stayed still for long.

A smile curved your lips as an idea sparked. “I think…” you began, and all three of them turned toward you immediately. “That when things calm down, Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin should take a vacation with their mother.”

They stared at you.

“Just the four of us?” Jeno asked, glancing briefly toward Jaehyun.

“That’d be amazing!” Haechan grabbed you, abruptly pulling Sakuya from your arms and spinning you around. “I seriously need a vacation.”

“Perfect. Then we can start planning. It’ll be so nice to spend a few worry-free days with my babies.” You squished Jeno’s and Haechan’s cheeks, your voice soft and deliberately sweet, making them groan while Sakuya laughed.

“I get to choose the place!” he shouted, already running for the stairs.

“No way—you’ll pick something ridiculous!” Haechan bolted after him.

“We need somewhere with cool history for Mom!” Jeno called, racing after them.

They liked the idea more than you’d expected.

Jaehyun remained by the kitchen entrance, his shadow darkening the room. His gaze flicked to your smirk as it shifted—happy turning into something more mischievous.

“What did you do today?” he asked, voice tight but controlled.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”

“Haechan wasn’t the only one who saw you there,” he admitted, and your smile widened.

“Oh? Look at that… the great bat keeping his sharp little eyes on me?” You turned fully toward him, mockingly polite. “To what do I owe the honor, Batman?”

Then his gaze dropped—to your right hand.

Where your engagement ring should have been.

“Where’s the ring?” he asked, never looking away.

“It’s probably in my bag.” You shrugged, grabbing your coat from the chair and turning toward the bedroom.

Jaehyun followed you, dragging a hand down his face. “Look,” he sighed once you stepped into your shared room, closing the door behind him. “I know I haven’t been the best partner, but I want to do better.”

You froze, your back still to him. You couldn’t let him see how much those words hit you.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to hear that, Jaehyun?” you asked, your voice cold. “Years. We haven’t kissed in years. For years you’ve pushed me aside for your work. For years I’ve been failing at my job. For years we haven’t celebrated our anniversary. For years I’ve been unhappy—and it’s because of you!” You turned, pressing a finger into his chest, your voice rising.

There was nothing in your eyes but anger. And then he understood just how badly he had failed you. The woman he’d met—the one he’d fallen hopelessly in love with—would never have looked at him like that. She had been pure happiness, pure ambition, still innocent enough to see something good even in Gotham.

“Honestly, I don’t know when you went from ‘the love of my life’ to ‘the karma of my life,’ but somewhere along the way, that’s what you became.” You couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. “And the worst part is that I can’t… I can’t leave.” You broke then, sobbing. “I must be the dumbest bitch in the world…” you murmured, and Jaehyun pulled you into his arms.

For the first time in years, you were held by the man you loved. For the first time in years, you could cry freely, knowing someone would be there to catch you when you fell. And that someone would be him.

You just didn’t know for how long.

And that made your chest ache.

“I want to try. For you,” he whispered. “I know I failed, but I have to try. I can’t lose you. Not for me, not for the boys.” His voice was muffled against your hair, his face buried there. “You’re the woman I love. I might be doing everything wrong, but I love you. I don’t know what’s happening—”

“Stop,” you whispered, lifting your face to look at him. “I’m tired of promises, Yuno. And I can’t wait anymore. One day I’m going to come back to my senses and leave.” He nodded, tears pooling in his eyes. “If you really want to try, then don’t promise me. Just… do it.”

Jaehyun nodded, holding you tighter as if he were afraid to let you go. And he was. He would rather die than lose you.

And even though Jeong Yuno was cold—and sometimes even rough—he loved you more than he loved himself.

The house was quiet now. No kids arguing over travel destinations, no fights between you and Yuno. You could almost say everything felt perfect.

You were in the bedroom, freshly showered and already in your nightgown, brushing your hair. Your mind was half on tomorrow’s story, half still caught in the lingering warmth of Jaehyun, when the door creaked open.

Jaehyun stepped inside carrying a tray with two cups of tea. He looked more relaxed than you’d seen him in days. He set the tray down on the bed—then almost immediately tensed again. You’d been watching him since the moment he entered, and knowing him as well as you did, you spoke first.

“Just say what you want already.” It came out rougher than you’d intended, but he didn’t seem bothered at all.

“You… didn’t answer my question earlier.” Yuno chose his words carefully. You’d openly given him a chance to change, and he didn’t want to ruin it—even if, sooner or later, he probably would.

You stopped mid-stroke, the hairbrush hovering in the air. “Earlier? You mean when you saw me doing my job?”

“It was a restricted area. You weren’t supposed to be there,” he said, looking away.

A soft, deliberate laugh slipped from you as you leaned back against the dresser, resting on your elbows. “I’m just doing my job, Jaehyun. Learning how to push the edges. Seeing what I can get away with without breaking—well, too many rules.”

His jaw tightened. “Rules aren’t the point. You can’t just… skirt danger, bend morals, and expect it not to come back to you. Especially when I can’t be there for you all the time.”

You swallowed, meeting his eyes through the mirror. “I know that. And I don’t need you hovering over me like a guard dog. I know how to take care of myself.”

“Do you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “Or is this just… the thrill? Testing lines you shouldn’t be crossing?”

You paused, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear and letting the words hang in the air. “Maybe it is,” you admitted carefully. “Maybe it’s more than that. Maybe I’m just… waiting to see what I’m capable of. On my own.”

His hands dropped to his sides, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “I thought we were a team.”

You shook your head gently, almost regretful. “We used to be. But then you chose to be Batman—or Jeong Jaehyun. There isn’t a ‘we’ anymore, Yuno. Not in this.”

Silence filled the room, thick and heavy. Jaehyun’s chest rose and fell while you went back to brushing your hair, seemingly unbothered. For a long moment, it felt as if the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

Jaehyun let out a deep breath, stepped closer, and placed his hands on your shoulders, massaging them softly but firmly. You set the brush down and closed your eyes, sinking into the feeling—his touch, something you hadn’t felt in so long.

But what came next surprised you.

He bent down and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. It was warm and gentle—so unlike Yuno—that your eyes flew open, surprise clear in your reflection. He met your gaze in the mirror and murmured,

“I’m sorry… I just don’t want you to get hurt. Can you promise me that? Please?” He pressed another kiss at the base of your neck.

You only nodded, closing your eyes again, letting yourself enjoy the affection of the man who then took your hands, lifted them, and gently turned your body to face his.

Jaehyun looked at you before lifting a hand to the back of your neck, angling your head so he could kiss you properly.

His eyes met yours—dark, vulnerable, filled with regret and longing. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I never meant to hurt you. I love you more than anything.” His words wrapped around your heart, pulling you in. You nodded, your throat tight, and leaned into his touch.

The reconciliation unfolded in that moment, a silent promise in the way he pulled you against his chest, arms enveloping you completely. You buried your face in his shirt, inhaling his familiar scent—clean soap and a hint of his cologne.

He held you there, rocking gently, until your breathing steadies. Then, his lips found your forehead, pressing soft kisses that trail down to your temple, your eyelid, the corner of your mouth. Each one was careful, a balm to the wounds of the past days. You tilted your head up, and your lips met in a kiss that's tender at first, exploratory, like rediscovering a lost path. His mouth moved against yours slowly, savoring the taste, the warmth. Tongues touched lightly, not rushing, just reconnecting.

Jaehyun's hands slid down your back, fingers tracing the curve of your spine through your shirt. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes searching.

"Let me make it up to you," he murmured, voice low and earnest. You nodded, heart pounding, and he guides you toward the bed, easing you down onto the soft sheets.

He knelt between your legs, hands working the hem of your nightgown up, exposing your skin inch by inch. His gaze was reverent as he peeled the fabric away, tossing it aside.

He leaned in, mouth brushing your collarbone, then lower to your breasts. His lips closed around one nipple, sucking gently, tongue flicking in slow circles that send sparks through your body. You arched into him, a soft moan escaping as he lavished attention on first one, then the other, his hands cupping and kneading with a tenderness that speaks of his devotion.

"You feel so good," he breathed against your skin, the words vibrating through you. He kissed a path down your stomach, pausing to nuzzle your navel, hands working at your panties, sliding them off.

Now fully exposed, you felt his eyes on you, hungry yet patient. He parted your thighs with gentle pressure, settling between them. His fingers traced your inner thighs, teasing closer but not quite touching where you ache most. When he finally stroked your folds, it was feather-light, parting you to circle your clit with the pad of his thumb. You gasped, hips lifting instinctively.

"That's it," he encouraged softly, watching your face as he dips a finger inside, then two, curling them to stroke that sensitive spot within.

He moved with unhurried precision, building the heat slowly. His mouth joined in, lips kissing your inner thigh before his tongue lapped at your clit, flat and broad, then pointed to flick. He sucked lightly, alternating with long, slow licks that make your toes curl. Pleasure coiled tight in your core, his free hand holding your hip steady as you writhed.

"I want you to feel everything," he said between licks, voice muffled but intense. "Let go for me." His fingers thrusted deeper, thumb pressing your clit, and the wave crashed over you—your body tensed, then shuddered in release, cries spilling from your lips as he worked you through it, never stopping until you were trembling and spent.

Jaehyun rose, shedding his clothes with quiet efficiency—shirt, pants, boxers—revealing his hard cock, thick and straining. He positioned himself over you, but instead of entering, he grinded against your slickness, letting you feel his length slide along your folds.

"Tell me what you need," he whispered, kissing your neck, your jaw. You pulled him closer, wrapping legs around his waist, and he notched himself at your entrance, pushing in inch by inch. The stretch was exquisite, slow, his eyes locked on yours as he filled you completely.

He stilled once buried deep, forehead pressed to yours, breathing shared. Then he began to move—long, unhurried thrusts that drag against your walls, hitting deep each time. His hand slipped between you, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing in time with his hips. The rhythm was sensual, slow, every roll building the embers back to flame.

You clung to his shoulders, nails digging in as emotion swells—love, forgiveness, raw connection.

He focused on you, angling to graze that spot inside, thumb circling faster. Your second orgasm built languidly, cresting in waves that made you clench around him.

"Come for me again," he urged, voice strained with restraint. You did, shattering with a sob, body milking him as stars burst behind your eyes. Only then he let go, thrusts turning erratic as he chased his own peak. With a guttural moan, he spilled inside you, hips jerking, collapsing gently atop you.

You stayed tangled like that, his weight a comforting anchor, breaths mingling as the aftershocks fade. He kissed you softly, murmuring endearments, sealing the reconciliation with the intimacy you've both craved.

The morning was sharp with Gotham’s early chill. You felt brighter—lighter, even—as you stepped out of the bedroom. You went through your routine: brushing your teeth, watering the plants, waking your sons like always—but they noticed something different.

There was an unusual glow about you.

As your boys lingered in bed, slow to wake, you realized one was missing: Donghyeok. He’d probably slipped out in the middle of the night to patrol, restless from lack of sleep. With a sigh, you headed to the kitchen, where Alfred immediately noticed. Of course he did—you had always been affectionate and cheerful, even when it was a mask hiding a miserable life. But today was different.

“Miss, I didn’t expect to see you up so early,” he remarked as he set the table for breakfast. “It’s good to see you happy. Genuinely happy.” The butler smiled, making you feel a little shy.

Alfred had known you long enough to read you inside and out.

“Yuno told me he loves me…” you said with a smile, even as tears threatened to form. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to us from here on, but for now… I really am happy, Alfred.”

“I hope you and Jaehyun reconcile—or, if not, that it leads to happiness for you both. You deserve the world, miss.” The older man touched your shoulder in acknowledgment, and you pulled him into a hug.

Alfred returned it warmly, almost paternal.

After a few long seconds in his comforting arms, you pulled away. “I need to get ready. I’m surprised Yuno isn’t up yet.”

You excused yourself and left the kitchen, heading back to your bedroom.

When you opened the door, you found Yuno getting dressed. He was wearing his usual Jeong Jaehyun attire—tailored slacks, a dress shirt, polished shoes. Even he, the Dark Knight, seemed brighter.

You didn’t want to assume anything or fill your heart with false hope, so you simply walked past him, murmuring a quiet good morning. He followed you with his eyes, then caught you by the waist, pulling you back until your body was pressed against his.

“Good morning, my love.” And then he kissed you.

Jaehyun held you close; your hands slid up his arms to his shoulders, gripping him, anchoring yourself there.

When you pulled apart, your fiancé rested his forehead against yours, and you couldn’t help thinking you might be dreaming.

“Please… tell me this is real,” you whispered softly, making Jaehyun’s chest ache.

Had he hurt you that badly without realizing it? Broken you enough that any show of affection from him felt like a dream?

Damn it, Yuno. You really were a piece of garbage.

“It is… it’s real,” he replied just as softly, lifting one hand to your face and stroking your cheek as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

Remembering that you should be heading to work instead of staying wrapped in that bubble of love in the bedroom—something you had wanted and needed for so long—you pulled away from him.

“I need to get ready,” you said, walking toward the closet.

“Is Jeno going with you?” he asked, finishing getting dressed as well.

“Yes. Well, that’s the plan, right?” Yuno murmured, a little condescendingly.

And there you were—waiting for your son, something that had become routine, since Jeno had this chronic issue with being late. It was impressive, considering he was the Golden Boy and—according to Donghyeok, never said with any pride—never messed up.

Since things had gone sour between you and Jaehyun, one of the kids always made sure to get you safely to work. They wanted to avoid conflict between you and him, or the Bat getting on your nerves first thing in the morning. They also hated the idea of you going anywhere alone, under any circumstances.

“I’m here!” your eldest finally appeared, restless and buzzing with energy.

“Now that’s a good morning,” you laughed, slipping your phone back into your bag.

“Sorry… the bed was way too comfortable, and I only managed to fall asleep at dawn. I heard Haechan making a ton of noise trying to leave,” he grumbled as he unlocked the car—but before he could get in, his phone started ringing nonstop.

“There’s something going on downtown,” he muttered, eyes wide. “Haechan says it’s a situation involving thieves, and Sakuya’s already on it—”

He was interrupted by the youngest brother running up to them.

“Jeno!” he called, panicked. “It’s not just thieves,” he said, breathless. “They’ve got biological weapons, and Haechan suspects they were supplied by the Joker.”

“And how does he know that?” you asked, confused.

“Because there’s a ‘J’ on every single one of them. He got too close, but we can’t leave him alone,” Sakuya explained, apologetic.

Jeno looked at you, torn. Take you safely to work—or help his brother and stop him from getting killed? Damn it.

You touched his shoulder. “Go. It’s okay. If something’s happening downtown, all the attention will be there. The paper’s in the opposite direction—I’ll be fine.”

“Promise you won’t go there. I want you inside that building until either me or Haechan confirms you’re safe,” Jeno said, gripping your shoulders.

“I promise, Jen.” You cupped his cheek affectionately. “Go help your brother.” Then you turned to your youngest. “And you stay here. Batman will show up at that circus any minute now and help your brothers.”

Sakuya nodded, and you smiled, satisfied. You watched your kids hurry back into the mansion, then turned and left.

The building where you worked wasn’t that far. Sure, it was a decent walk—but maybe you needed it. Was it a good idea? Maybe. After all, more chaos was happening downtown, so the danger was there, right? If you walked fast enough, you’d reach work safe and sound.

And you couldn’t deny it—there was a small spark of satisfaction. Of pride.

Independence had never felt so… potent.

From a certain distance, he watched. The orchestrated chaos was working perfectly. Each boy was pulled farther and farther away, distracted by calls, alerts, and crises calculated down to the second. And at the center of it all—you—completely unaware as the trap tightened around you.

His smile widened, hidden in the shadows. He adjusted his jacket, eyes gleaming with anticipation. Soon, he thought. The bat distracted, the little birds busy, the prey oblivious… then the game would truly begin.

You paused in an alley, finally noticing the silence around you. Without Jeno’s solid presence, without Haechan’s jokes, without Sakuya’s voice on the line teasing his brothers—there was only Gotham’s cold, oppressive air and a handful of people on the streets, long used to it.

“Great, you’ve done this plenty of times,” you muttered under your breath. “Just keep walking calmly to the building and everything will be fine.”

You lifted your chin, let out a steadying breath, and kept moving, gripping the straps of your bag tighter on your shoulder.

A shadow moved across the street—too fast to identify, and nothing like the bat’s familiar presence that, one way or another, always made you feel safe.

You froze, scanning the sidewalk, instincts sharpening. Whoever it was, they weren’t just a passerby.

“Hello,” a low, smooth voice called from the shadows.

You barely had time to react before a figure stepped into view, calm and dangerous.

“Who are you?” you asked firmly, even as a flicker of fear poked at your chest.

He raised a gloved hand in mock surrender, then tilted his head, studying you with predatory curiosity. “Relax,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “I’m not here to hurt you. Well—not yet.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to assess the threat. But he didn’t move. He simply stood there, letting the sense of danger settle and fill the space between you.

“Alone, aren’t you?” he mused, almost to himself, a faint, crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Funny… you’re never alone. Did your little birds let mommy leave the nest all by herself?”

You took a careful step back, clutching your bag tighter. “I… need to go,” you said, already mapping out an escape route.

But the shadow tilted his head again, as if amused by your caution. “Ah, going somewhere?” he said, almost reverently. “You’re not used to walking around alone—you might get lost. I suggest you follow me.”

He leaned forward slightly, letting the light catch part of his face—and that smile. In that moment, you realized you might be deeper in this than you’d thought.

So the Joker had been watching you.

Of course. Every enemy’s weak point—catch four little bats with one rabbit.

He stepped back just enough to give you space, but the movement was controlled, almost coaxing. “This way,” he said softly—not a command, more like an invitation.

You hesitated, glancing down the streets again. The city felt emptier than usual, the distant hum of traffic failing to mask the tension coiling in your chest.

“Why are you… leading me?” you asked, your voice steady despite the rush of adrenaline.

“Observation,” he replied with a slight tilt of his head, a smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “I like watching people in their element. And you… you’re fascinating when you think you’re in control.”

You rolled your eyes—but followed him anyway. Your curiosity had always been stronger than caution, and the reporter’s instinct—to witness, to record, to understand—got the better of you.

The streets shifted, growing even quieter now, the familiar sounds of the city fading into shadow. He kept just enough distance so you wouldn’t feel trapped, but close enough that his presence was unmistakable.

Eventually, a warehouse came into view—abandoned, silent, its edges softened by time and neglect. He gestured toward the entrance.

“Inside,” he murmured, voice low, teasing. “You’ll be safe. Comfortable, even.”

You hesitated at the threshold, your pulse quickening. Every instinct screamed caution, every part of your mind warned you this was a bad idea. And yet… the calm in his tone, the careful, calculated way he moved, made you take a step forward.

The door closed behind you.

The air inside was surprisingly cold, carrying the smell of dust and oil. He moved along the edges of the room, adjusting the space with a meticulousness that irritated you as much as it intrigued you.

He didn’t look anything like the Joker Jaehyun had described.

And that was terrifying.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said again, his voice almost gentle. “I just want… your attention. That’s all.”

You let out a scoff, half disbelief, half amusement. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

He paused, studying you, his smile sharp and unreadable. “Oh, you will,” he said softly. “Eventually.”

And for the first time since you’d met him, the thrill of danger mingled with the faintest hint of comfort—and you realized, uneasily, that a part of you wanted to see just how far this could go.