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liuhsng · 6 days ago

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✩ˎˊ˗ no-fly zone ( pjs ! ) — part 2

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist

⤷ pairing — jay x fem!reader

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 19.1k ⤷ taglist for the series — open !

⤷ warning/s — smut (minors dni), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), p in v, a/b/o au, alpha!jay, omega!reader, fem!reader, foul language, enemies to lovers trope, forced proximity, mentions of drinking and alcohol, lots of sexual tension, possessive!alpha jay, desperate!jay, dirty talk, overstimulation-ish, post-sex vulnerability, aftercare, mentions of the other parts from this series, not proofread

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — the line between rivalry and desire was already thin. it only took one night to shatter it completely. what started as another tense argument—sharp words, stormy eyes, too much tension—ended in something neither of you were ready for: hands on skin, lips on lips, and all the anger melting into something far more dangerous. park jongseong was supposed to hate you. you were supposed to keep your distance. but now you’re in his bed, your scent on his skin, and the worst part? he doesn’t want to leave. and neither do you.

The night air wrapped around you like silk, cool and crisp, carrying the soft scent of the manicured gardens surrounding your family's sprawling estate.

You stood there at the top of the marble steps, the soft click of your heels echoing faintly as you shifted your weight, arms crossed loosely over your chest, the impatient glint in your eyes betraying your excitement.

Then the deep purr of a luxury engine broke the night’s calm, headlights slicing through the darkness like knives.

You straightened, heart skipping a beat when a stretch Rolls-Royce limo pulled smoothly into the circular driveway, tires crunching softly against the gravel.

A small, amused laugh bubbled out of you, completely unfiltered, as the sheer absurdity of it hit you.

The driver, wearing a crisp black suit and cap, stepped out swiftly and bowed a little as he opened the door.

The second the heavy door swung outward, a wave of noise, laughter, and expensive perfume spilled out, and you didn’t even have a chance to react before Heeseung’s mate shrieked��

“There she is! Get in, get in!”

You were yanked into the limo with a strength that made you stumble forward, your laughter filling the plush interior.

Arms wrapped around you, kisses were pressed to your cheeks, and a dozen perfectly manicured hands flitted over your shoulders, your hair, your waist—admiring, fixing, fawning.

The girls looked at you like you hung the stars.

“She’s illegal!” Jungwon’s mate wailed dramatically, clutching her heart.

Jake’s mate reached for your waist, turning you around slightly to get the full view. “I hate you. You’re disgusting. How are you real?”

"You’re basically Chanel’s wet dream," Sunghoon’s mate added, fanning herself dramatically with a hand.

You couldn’t help it, your smile stretched wide and mischievous as you smoothed your hands down the sleek, impossibly expensive fabric of your fitted black dress.

It clung to you like a second skin, the slit on the side teasing glimpses of your legs with every slight movement, while the pearlescent choker around your throat gleamed.

"Is it too much?" you asked, tilting your head, voice dripping with faux-innocence.

“Too much?!” Sunoo’s mate let out a noise of pure disbelief, practically throwing her clutch down on the seat. "Girl, you’re going to cause deaths."

The limo began to glide forward, the city lights outside a smear of golds and blues against the windows.

Jake’s mate leaned forward, the grin on her face wicked. “I cannot wait to see Jay's face when you walk in looking like this."

Instantly, you let out a loud groan, flopping back against the leather seat, the expensive material cool against your bare skin.

"Ugh. I hate him," you deadpanned, venom thick in your voice.

The girls burst into a chorus of soft laughter and very obvious glances between each other.

“Sure you do,” Jungwon’s mate said under her breath, smirking like she knew something you didn’t.

Sunghoon’s mate leaned closer, her eyes glinting with teasing. “Totally believable, babe.”

You lifted your chin with a little sniff, grabbing Heeseung’s mate’s champagne flute and taking a sip without asking, smoothing your perfectly manicured nails down your dress with slow, deliberate motions.

“He’s an arrogant, infuriating, self-absorbed bastard. Nothing to like.” Your words were sharp, meant to cut, but your heart betrayed you, thudding a little too fast in your chest.

The girls just laughed again, louder this time, the noise bouncing off the sleek interior of the limo.

The second Heeseung’s mate dragged you through the massive front doors, the girls giggling and squealing behind you, the party slammed into your senses all at once.

The mansion was alive.

Music thundered from unseen speakers, bass pounding against the floors, lights flashing in dizzy, chaotic bursts. The thick, humid air reeked of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and dozens of clashing scents—alphas, betas, omegas, all packed into one heaving mass of bodies, grinding against each other on the dance floor or yelling over the noise.

You clung tighter to Heeseung’s mate’s arm, feeling your heart hammering against your ribs. “Remind me why I agreed to this?” you half-shouted over the music.

She just laughed, tossing you a wicked grin. “Because you love the drama!”

You barely had time to answer before you spotted them.

There, in the farthest corner of the living room, seven pureblooded Alphas stood.

A sight so commanding that even the wildest partygoers kept their distance. They didn’t have to move, didn’t have to speak—their presence alone was a warning. Even through the haze of bodies and lights, they stood untouched, untouchable.

Jungwon stood tall and sharp-eyed, scanning the room like he owned it, while Heeseung looked effortless, sipping casually from a drink, his smirk lazy but unreadable. Jake leaned against the wall, charming and easygoing on the surface but calculated underneath, while Ni-ki whispered something to Sunghoon, both of them laughing low and dangerous. Sunoo, perched slightly away from the rest, looked deceptively angelic, his sharp eyes catching every movement without even trying.

And Jay.

Jay, who had an arm draped over the back of the leather couch, the amber of his bourbon catching the light, looking every bit like he was born to rule. He didn’t laugh like the others; he barely spoke. He simply watched—until you walked in.

The moment you stepped inside, his entire focus zeroed in on you like a predator. His posture stiffened, drink forgotten in his hand, lips pressed into a hard, thin line. You could feel the weight of his stare dragging over your body.

While the boys immediately softened at the sight of their mates—smirks turning into real smiles, arms opening to pull them close—you clung to Heeseung’s mate, half-hiding behind her. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you forced yourself to look anywhere but at him.

You could feel it, the burn of Jay’s eyes following every movement, every breath, every fake laugh you let out.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,"” Sunghoon’s mate sing-songed in your ear, catching the way Jay's hand twitched again as you laughed with her.

“I'm not playing anything,” you said smoothly, reaching up to fix your earring with a practiced air of nonchalance, even though your heart was pounding so hard you were worried it might crack your ribs.

You were about to deny everything, pretend you didn’t care—

Except you could feel him moving closer. Every cell in your body screamed at his approach, and when you glanced up, there he was, cutting through the crowd like it didn’t exist.

Jay didn’t say a word. He simply shrugged off his black Prada blazer—sleek, tailored, screaming Park Jongseong—and dropped it over your shoulders with a scowl. The rich scent of his cologne laced with his scent of sandalwood and tequila wrapped around you.

Before you could even form a reaction, he turned on his heel and stormed off toward the kitchen, his drink dangerously low.

The group noticed. Conversations faltered mid-sentence, greetings paused, and suddenly every single pair of eyes was on you.

Heeseung’s mate was the first to catch herself, hiding a smug grin behind her hand, while Jungwon’s mate outright smirked, nudging you in the side with her elbow.

You stayed frozen for a second longer, clutching Jay’s expensive Prada blazer tighter around your shoulders. Your heart slammed against your ribs, the weight of their knowing stares only making it worse.

Jungwon’s mate leaned in, voice low and teasing near your ear. “Well? Go after him, stupid,” she whispered, giving you a not-so-subtle push toward the kitchen.

And without even thinking, you followed.

It didn’t surprise you to find a not-so-mini bar tucked into the far corner of the house—of course Jay would have something like this. He was already behind it, refilling his bourbon, moving with an easy, practiced grace. The dim light hit his profile perfectly, jaw sharp, brow furrowed, mouth pulled into a grim line.

You slid into one of the high stools, arms crossing over your chest beneath his jacket. The fabric was too big for you, swallowing you whole, but you didn’t shrug it off.

You didn’t even know why you were here. Anger didn’t pulse through you like before, only confusion. Confusion and the dull ache of something you couldn’t name sitting heavy on your chest.

Jay didn’t say anything at first. He grabbed a glass, poured something pink and fizzy into it, added ice with an efficient clink, then slid it toward you across the bar top without looking up.

You stared at it. Pink lemonade cocktail.

You cocked an eyebrow, arms still folded tightly. “Seriously?”

Finally, he lifted his eyes, pinning you with that same, familiar look that always made your mouth dry up. “Isn’t this your favorite?” he asked, voice low, almost like he hated admitting he knew that.

You blinked. Your mouth opened and closed, no words forming as a small, confused pout curled your lips. Hesitantly, you reached for the drink, your fingers brushing the cool glass. You nodded slowly, the tiniest, barely-there movement.

Wordlessly, you took a sip. The sweetness burst across your tongue, familiar and jarring all at once.

Jay watched you like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t even want to admit he cared about. His hands flexed against the bar top, the veins in his arms standing out with the effort it took to stay casual.

You didn’t understand it. Any of it. Not the blazer. Not the drink. Not the way his stormy eyes lingered on your face like he was memorizing you.

But somehow, you didn’t pull away.

Jay set his glass down with a sharp clink, pulling his gaze away first, like it physically pained him to do it.

“I need another refill,” he muttered, voice rough, already stepping around the counter without waiting for you to say anything.

You blinked, staring after him like he had just grown two heads.

The leather of the stool creaked under you when you shifted, trying to wrap your head around the past five minutes. You slowly dragged your eyes to the wall of alcohol behind the counter—bottles of whiskey, gin, rare aged bourbons lined up like some kind of shrine, and for a moment, you just… sat there.

Thinking.

Where the hell did the Jay who used to hate you with a burning passion go?

Where was the Jay who would snap at you during business dinners, whose eyes would ice over whenever you so much as breathed in his direction?

Your lips pressed into a tight line. You were so deep in your spiraling thoughts that you didn't even notice the figure who approached until a shadow loomed over you.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” a voice crooned, low and dripping with confidence.

You blinked up, startled, into the face of Minjun—an Alpha from a prominent family. Older, ridiculously handsome, and apparently, very unaware of the dangerous ground he was treading.

“Didn’t think someone like you would be sitting here all alone,” he grinned, sliding into the stool next to you, his scent immediately clouding the air, rich and heady and far too much.

You smiled politely, schooling your face into something neutral because the last thing you needed was to cause a scene at Jay’s party.

“I’m just waiting for someone,” you said lightly, your fingers fiddling with the straw of your pink cocktail.

“Oh?” Minjun leaned in closer, clearly misinterpreting your politeness for an invitation. “Well, whoever it is, he’s an idiot for leaving someone like you sitting here. You deserve better, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but you didn’t get the chance.

A loud thud crashed onto the counter beside you, making you jump in your seat.

Jay stood there, a handful of new bottles clutched in one arm, the other hand braced hard on the marble, muscles straining under his sleeves. His stormy gaze burned into Minjun with a fury that could’ve leveled buildings.

“Move,” Jay snapped, voice low, dangerous.

Minjun blinked, confused, trying to play it off with a chuckle. “Relax, man. We’re just talking—”

“She’s not available.” Jay’s voice cracked like a whip across the air, sharp and venomous. His eyes never once left Minjun’s face, full of a warning so clear even the drunkest alpha would have sobered up instantly.

You froze, heart hammering against your ribs.

Minjun raised his hands in mock surrender, throwing you a half-smirk before sliding off the stool and retreating into the crowd without another word.

The second he was gone, Jay rounded on you—storming so close that you had to tilt your head up just to meet his glare.

Before you could process it, his hand clamped around your wrist, not painfully, but firm enough to leave no room for argument.

“Come with me,” he gritted out, already pulling you off the stool.

“Jay—what the hell—” you hissed, stumbling after him as he cut through the crowd, dragging you behind him like you weighed nothing.

Heads turned. You could feel the stares. The music pounded in your skull, but none of it registered—not the flashing lights, not the sea of bodies; only Jay, only his bruising grip and the boiling fury rolling off him in waves.

He didn’t stop until he shoved open a door down the hall, revealing a sleek, dimly lit guest bedroom, and practically tossed you inside before slamming the door shut behind him.

Jay stalked toward you like he wanted to tear you apart, his chest heaving, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. You barely had time to turn around before he cornered you, his hand slamming into the wall beside your head with a loud thud, making you flinch.

“What the fuck were you doing, smiling at him like that?” he seethed, his voice rough, raw, almost shaking with the force of how hard he was holding himself back.

You glared up at him, your own anger finally snapping free.

“He was just being nice!” you snapped, shoving at his chest uselessly. He didn’t move an inch. He just pressed closer, his body heat swallowing you whole.

Jay let out a bitter, humorless laugh, his head tilting as he stared down at you like he hated the sight of you. “Nice? You think that’s what he wanted? You’re fucking clueless.”

“Why do you even care, Jay?!” Your voice cracked as it rose, sharp and broken, and you hated it—hated how much he could pull emotion out of you like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Stop acting like you don’t fucking know,” he spat, his other hand curling into a fist at his side.

You shook your head, tears blurring your vision but you refused to let them fall yet.

“Stop acting like you care!” you fired back, your chest heaving.

He slammed his other hand into the wall on the other side of your head, the sound loud and violent, and you flinched, heart rattling against your ribs.

“You think I don’t care?” he hissed. “You think it’s easy for me?”

You swallowed hard, glaring up at him through your tears. “You hate me.”

“I fucking hate you,” Jay snarled back instantly, the words punching the air between you.

Your throat tightened painfully, but you forced the words out. “Good. Because I hate you too.”

The tension cracked—raw, ugly, alive.

Jay’s chest brushed yours with every shallow, angry breath he took. His hands were trembling where they caged you in, like it was taking everything he had not to tear the world apart.

He ducked his head lower, forehead almost brushing yours, his voice rough and raw.

“I hate the way you make me feel,” he said, almost like a confession, his teeth gritted. “I hate that you fucking get to me. That you make me feel like some—some fucking lowlife who can’t even think straight when you’re around.”

You blinked at him, breath catching, chest aching with how messy this was.

Jay laughed again, broken, “I hate that you make me want things I’m not supposed to want.”

You sucked in a shaky breath, your voice barely a whisper.

“Where do we even stand, Jay?”

He stared at you—through you—like he was trying to find the answer too. His hands finally dropped from the wall, only to grab your wrists, tight enough to make you gasp, but not enough to hurt.

“I don’t know,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t fucking know.”

The tears finally slipped free. You hated yourself for it. Hated that he was the only one who could break you like this.

Jay’s face twisted, something almost like regret flashing in his eyes, but it was gone too fast, swallowed by the anger again.

“You drive me insane,” he bit out, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he was even standing here, having this conversation. “You ruin me.”

“You ruin me too,” you whispered back, voice breaking completely.

He stared at you like you’d ripped the ground out from under him. Neither of you moved. Neither of you could.

It was war. It was heartbreak. It was home.

And neither of you knew how to fix it.

Not when your hands were still shaking, when your breaths were still shallow, when your hearts were still trying to tear themselves free from your ribs just from being this close.

Not when the hate had always been a mask for something neither of you were brave enough to admit.

Jay's eyes dropped to your lips, so fast, so instinctive, like he didn’t even mean to—and you felt your breath hitch, a violent, helpless thing.

Your hands flexed against his hold, not to pull away—no—but to feel. To ground yourself in the heat of his skin.

He let out a low, almost broken curse, and the next thing you knew, Jay surged forward, crashing his mouth against yours.

It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t soft, it was messy. Brutal. Desperate.

You gasped against him, your back slamming into the wall as his body pressed into yours, holding you there like he needed to anchor himself or else he’d fly apart. His hands let go of your wrists only to grab your face, rough and trembling, thumbs digging into your jaw as he tilted your head back to kiss you harder.

You should’ve pushed him away. You should’ve fought. But all you could do was clutch at the front of his shirt, fingers twisting into the expensive fabric like it was the only thing keeping you standing.

Jay kissed like he hated you. Like he needed to conquer you. Like he needed to brand you with his mouth and teeth and everything he’d been trying so hard to bury.

Your teeth clashed. Your noses bumped. It was messy and imperfect and real in a way that made your chest ache.

You whimpered against him, your knees buckling slightly, and Jay groaned low in his throat—a sound so guttural and desperate it made your head spin—before one of his arms dropped to wrap around your waist, hauling you even closer until there wasn’t a single inch of space between you.

He tasted like bourbon and rage and something heartbreakingly familiar.

He pulled back just barely, breathing hard against your lips, his forehead dropping against yours as you both struggled for air.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice wrecked, almost like he was mad at himself. “Fuck, what are you doing to me?”

You shook your head, tears still clinging to your lashes, your heart slamming so hard against your ribs it hurt.

“You started this,” you breathed, voice small and shaky.

Jay let out a strangled sound, his hands fisting the back of your dress like he could physically keep you from slipping away.

“I’m so fucking tired of pretending,” he rasped, his words ghosting over your skin, raw and broken and bare.

You stared up at him, your throat tight, your body aching with confusion and want and a thousand other things you didn’t even have names for.

“I hate you,” you whispered again, but this time… it sounded like a plea. Like a lie. Like the saddest truth.

Jay laughed, short and sharp and bitter, and then he kissed you again, harder, rougher, angrier—like he was trying to burn the hatred out of both of you. Like he needed to punish you for existing and save you at the same time.

You clutched at him, nails scraping his chest through his shirt, desperate for something solid, something real. He growled against your mouth, and the sound lit a fire low in your stomach that scared you with how much you craved it.

You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him even closer, practically clawing at him, needing more, needing everything.

His knee shoved between your legs, pressing against you, and you whimpered against his mouth, the sound broken and raw.

Jay ripped his mouth away, both of you panting like you were drowning.

“You think you can just look at me like that?” he rasped, his forehead knocking into yours, noses brushing, breaths mixing in harsh, heated gasps. “Smile at everyone like you’re not already fucking mine?”

Your heart slammed painfully against your ribs.

“You think I don’t, do you?” Jay growled. His hands tightened, grounding you in place. His eyes were wild, furious, pained. “You think I don’t fucking care?”

You blinked up at him, tears burning at the edges of your vision.

“I hate you,” you whispered, voice shaking. “And you hate me.”

But he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe you were still clinging to that lie.

“I don’t,” he said, voice raw, guttural, wrecked. “I don’t hate you.”

The words hit you harder than a slap.

“I wish I did,” he gritted out, jaw locking, eyes furious. “God, I wish I fucking hated you.”

Your breath hitched.

“But I can’t.” A shuddering breath. “I can’t hate you. I can’t even fucking breathe without thinking about you.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying again until his thumb brushed against your cheek, rough, almost angry, wiping the tears away like he hated seeing them, hated causing them, hated himself.

And then he kissed you again.

You gasped into his mouth as he pushed you harder against the wall, his hands roaming, feverish and trembling, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he didn’t even know what he was doing, only that he needed more.

His fingers threaded into your hair, pulling just enough to make you whimper—a sound that made him groan low and broken in the back of his throat.

When he finally ripped away, both of you gasping, he didn’t move far. He stayed pressed against you, forehead pressed to yours, hands still framing your face like he was scared you'd slip through his fingers.

“I don’t know what this is,” he rasped, his voice wrecked, barely holding it together. “I don’t know what the fuck you did to me.”

Your hands slid up to clutch his arms, holding onto him like he was the only solid thing left in a world that was crumbling.

“Jay…” you whispered, voice shaking.

His hands dropped to your hips, yanking you closer until not even air fit between you.

But then, without warning, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you with him.

“Jay—” you started, but he didn’t even glance back.

The hallway blurred as he stormed through it, weaving past confused alphas and omegas still lingering from the party. Some of them gawked, some whispered, but Jay didn’t slow down. He didn’t even flinch.

It was like there was a fire under his skin and you were the only thing he could think about.

Your heart was racing, tripping over itself with every heavy step he took, the way his grip didn’t falter even once—like he needed you anchored to him.

Jay shoved his room open, yanked you inside, and slammed it shut behind you with a loud, final thud.

You barely had time to catch your breath before his hands were on you again, not rough to hurt, but rough in the way someone touches something they've been aching for too long.

He walked you backward without even thinking, his steps fast, heavy, until the backs of your knees hit the edge of his stupidly expensive bed.

And then he shoved you onto it.

You landed with a small gasp, staring up at him, heart hammering so violently it felt like it would burst straight out of your chest.

Jay just stood there for a second, looming over you, his chest rising and falling like he was at war with himself. Hair messy from running his fingers through it, lips swollen from kissing you, pupils blown wide with something between rage and want.

His hands fisted at his sides like he was holding himself back, like if he touched you again, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop.

Jay stepped closer, until he was standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at you like you were both his salvation and his curse.

“You make me feel things I can't afford to feel, omega.” He said, voice shaking.

You reached up before you could stop yourself, your fingers tangling into his shirt, yanking him down.

He crashed into you like he’d been starving for this.

Jay hovered over you, breathing hard, his body practically trembling with restraint.

Your dress, soft, delicate, dangerous—had ridden up your thighs when he pushed you down, leaving you laid out beneath him like a goddamn fever dream.

And he looked ruined by it.

His hands slid up from your bare thighs, slow and shaky, fingertips brushing along your skin like he didn’t know whether to worship you or devour you.

You whimpered when his calloused palms grazed higher, just under the hem of your dress, and that sound—soft, desperate, for him—made him groan low and wrecked in his chest.

“Jay, please…” you breathed, voice trembling.

That was all it took.

One hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head up for a rough, searing kiss that left you gasping. His other hand slid up your dress, urgent and feverish, gripping your hip so hard you knew you’d feel it tomorrow.

“You drive me insane,” he growled into your mouth, voice wrecked and shaking. His lips trailed across your jaw, your throat, sucking harsh bruises into your skin like he wanted to mark you, like he wanted the world to know who you belonged to.

You clutched at his shirt, pulling him down, your body arching up into his without a second thought.

Jay muttered your name like a prayer, like a curse, and shoved the hem of your dress higher, revealing more skin, more of you, too much and never enough all at once.

His mouth trailed down, open-mouthed kisses against your shoulder, your collarbone, like he couldn’t decide where to start or stop. His hands shook where they gripped you, like he was barely holding himself together.

Panting hard against your skin, Jay’s hand slid over your shoulder, fingers finding the edge of the small scent-blocker patch clinging to your skin.

And before you could even process it, he peeled it off.

The moment the patch dropped onto the mattress with a soft, forgotten thud, your scent hit him full force—roses and apples, warm and sweet and so overwhelmingly you that Jay actually staggered, gripping you tighter like the air had been knocked out of him.

“Fuck,” he rasped, voice hoarse, his forehead dropping against your bare shoulder.

You barely had a second to react before he was back on you, rougher, hungrier, like the leash he kept on himself had snapped the second your scent filled the room.

His mouth crashed back to your skin, leaving darker, messier marks along your neck and collarbone, branding you with bruising kisses. His hands fisted your dress, dragging the fabric higher, desperate to feel more, touch more, claim more.

“You smell…” Jay broke off with a low, guttural groan, his nose burying into the crook of your neck, inhaling deep like he could never get enough. “You smell like fucking heaven.”

You whimpered, your body arching into his without even thinking, fingers scrambling at his shoulders for any kind of hold.

Your scent clung to him now—threaded into his clothes, his skin, his lungs—until Jay felt like he was burning alive from the inside out.

Without even realizing it, his mouth traced lower, nuzzling into the exposed skin of your chest, teeth nipping lightly, scenting you instinctively with every rough kiss and broken inhale.

“Fuck…” he rasped, like he wasn’t even aware he said it, voice breaking apart at the edges. His hands slid down, framing your waist, fingers pressing bruises into your skin like he couldn’t bear the idea of not touching you.

He leaned back for a breath—just a second—and you watched, dazed and wide-eyed, as he yanked the rest of his shirt off with one furious motion, tossing it across the room.

The sight of him, bare and golden in the dim light, muscles carved from every bottled-up emotion he never let himself feel, stole the air straight from your lungs.

And then his hands were on you again. He caught the hem of your dress and dragged it up slowly, unbearably slow, baring inch after inch of your flushed skin. His eyes didn’t leave you for a second, dark and hungry, like he was memorizing every piece of you he uncovered.

You gasped when the dress finally bunched at your arms, and he helped pull it up, over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought.

You sat there, barely covered now, clad only in a delicate black lingerie set, sheer, soft lace hugging your curves, a thin barrier between you and him.

His hand reached out and ghosted over your bare waist, your stomach, your ribs. His fingers skimmed up to the soft swell of your breasts, reverent, like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You're…” He swallowed hard, blinking like he was dizzy. “You're gonna kill me.”

You whimpered when he leaned in again, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your bare shoulder, down your collarbone, nosing against the lace of your bra. His teeth scraped lightly against the sensitive skin above the cup, just enough to make you gasp, arching into him without thinking.

Jay groaned deep in his throat, hands sliding down to your thighs, pushing them open so he could fit between them, caging you against the bed like you were something he needed to survive.

His hands roamed—rough palms skating up your sides, thumbs brushing over the thin fabric of your bra until you shuddered, clutching at his bare shoulders like you were drowning.

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken sound when his lips found the soft skin of your stomach, trailing down, lower, slow and torturous.

And when he mouthed at the inside of your thigh; teeth grazing, tongue flicking—you sobbed his name, fingers burying in his hair, yanking hard enough to make him groan against your skin.

Jay pulled back, chest heaving, hair messy from your grip.

“Do you want this?” he panted, voice a hoarse command. “Tell me you want this.”

“Jay—Alpha—,” you whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders. “I want— please—”

That was all he needed.

His hand fumbled slightly, almost trembling, as he found the tiny hook at the back of your bra.

The clasp gave way with a soft snap. And Jay exhaled a sharp, broken sound when the lace slipped free, baring you completely to him.

His hands slid the straps down your arms, tossing the bra aside, but his eyes never left you—dark, glassy, drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin like he was starving.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, almost like he didn’t even mean to say it aloud.

You squirmed under his gaze, heat rising to your cheeks, but Jay wasn’t having it.

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to meet his burning stare.

“No,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Don’t look away. Don’t you dare.”

And then he was leaning in, pressing tender, desperate kisses over your bare chest—first to your collarbone, then lower, then lower, his mouth tracing invisible paths down the curve of your breast.

When he finally closed his mouth around your nipple, you gasped, head tipping back helplessly.

Jay groaned, sucking gently at first, then flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak, his hand sliding up to cup the other breast, thumb stroking slow circles around it.

You clutched at his shoulders, nails scraping lightly over the tense muscles there, earning a soft, needy grunt from deep in his chest.

“You feel so good,” he muttered against your skin, the vibrations making you whimper.

“So fucking good. I could spend hours just…” he kissed you again, open-mouthed and messy, “just worshipping you like this.”

Your thighs tightened around his hips instinctively, needing him closer, needing more. Jay lifted his head slightly, lips glossy, cheeks flushed, looking utterly undone.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, forehead pressing to the center of your chest, right over your hammering heart.

You shivered under him, overwhelmed by the weight of his touch, his words, the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing he ever wanted and never thought he could have.

His teeth grazed lightly over the swell of your breast before pulling your nipple into his mouth again, rougher this time, making you gasp and arch into him.

Jay growled low in his throat, like he couldn’t get enough, couldn't get closer.

His free hand slid down your side, gliding over your waist, your hip, gripping your thigh and hauling it higher over his hip, locking you closer, tighter against him.

You could feel him now—hard, throbbing, desperate through the rough fabric of his pants, and the sound that broke from his throat when you shifted against him was downright sinful.

Jay’s mouth slanted hungrily over yours, swallowing your shaky little gasps as he dragged his hand lower, past your ribs, your waist, the curve of your hips, until his fingers brushed the edge of your panties.

You whimpered against his lips, hips jerking up slightly in silent plea, and Jay groaned low in his throat, deep and guttural.

“So eager for me,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to look at you: flushed, trembling, already falling apart beneath him.

His hand dipped lower, fingers teasing along the damp fabric stretched over your core, and the sound you made, a broken little whine—nearly undid him.

“Fuck, baby…” he breathed out harshly, pressing his forehead to yours. His fingers stroked a slow, torturous path over your panties, feeling how wet you were for him, how ready.

“You’re soaked,” he said hoarsely, almost like he was in pain. "All for me."

You nodded, desperate, not trusting yourself to speak.

With trembling fingers, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and agonizingly dragged them down your thighs, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin as he went.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispered, voice almost breaking.

His fingers brushed against your slick heat, feather-light at first, like he was still trying to be gentle, still trying to hold himself back.

But the second you whimpered his name—that sweet, broken little “Jay…” he snapped.

He groaned, low and filthy, and slid a finger through your folds, gathering your wetness and circling your clit with maddening, teasing strokes.

Your hips bucked up helplessly, chasing his touch, and Jay shuddered against you.

“Good girl,” he muttered, kissing you again, “Such a good girl for me. Let me make you feel good, yeah? Let me have you.”

You barely managed a breathless nod before he slipped a finger inside you, slow but deep, dragging a moan from your throat it made him groan into your mouth.

“God, you're tight,” he muttered, sliding deeper, curling his finger just right, making your back arch off the bed. “Fucking made for me.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging—needing more, and Jay rewarded you by adding another finger, stretching you open, thrusting slow and deep while his thumb rubbed slow, torturous circles over your clit.

Jay kissed your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, leaving desperate, claiming marks, never stopping his movements, never letting you catch your breath.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with heat and awe. “So fucking beautiful like this, falling apart for me.”

“Come for me,” he rasped, speeding up just slightly, just enough. “Come on, sweetheart. Let me feel you.”

One more brush against your clit, one more deep curl of his fingers inside you and you shattered, crying out his name, legs shaking, nails digging into his back as you came undone.

He stayed pressed against you, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “I'm not done with you yet, baby. Not even close.”

Jay shoved his pants down with frantic, clumsy movements, not even bothering to fully kick them off, just enough to free himself.

His cock slapped up against his stomach, flushed and leaking, thick and heavy, and the way he hissed through his teeth when your eyes dropped to it, wide and starry and a little scared almost undid him.

He stroked himself once, twice, jaw clenching hard, like he was trying to calm down but was way, way past that point.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, voice wrecked.

He grabbed your hips roughly and yanked you down the bed towards him, until your legs dangled over the edge and your body arched perfectly against him.

You barely had time to gasp before he hooked your thighs over his forearms, spreading you open for him, caging you in like you were his whole world—and you were.

“God, you're so fucking pretty like this,” he rasped, eyes locked on where you were dripping for him, his cock throbbing in his fist. “So fucking perfect.”

He lined himself up, the thick head nudging against your slick entrance, and he nearly collapsed with the need to just slam into you.

But he didn’t. He pushed in, just the tip and paused, forehead pressed to yours.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, voice so broken it barely sounded like him.

You nodded, desperate tears brimming again, and that was all he needed.

With a low, shattered groan, he sank into you fully, stretching you inch by inch until you felt impossibly full, impossibly complete.

You both cried out high, ragged sounds, clutching onto each other like the world would fall apart if you let go.

“God, you're tight,” Jay gasped into your neck, his voice almost pleading. “So fucking tight around me, baby."

He bottomed out, hips pressed flush against yours and just stayed there for a moment, trembling, trying not to lose his mind from how good you felt.

You whimpered his name, begging, rocking your hips the tiniest bit.

Jay pulled out, and slammed back in, deep and hard, dragging a broken moan from both of you.

And then he did it again. And again.

Setting a rough, desperate rhythm that had the headboard slamming against the wall, your cries echoing in the small, dim room.

“Fuck— you feel— so good,” Jay choked out between thrusts, punctuating each word with a deep, body-shaking snap of his hips.

He kissed you everywhere he could reach, your mouth, your neck, your jaw, your shoulder, leaving open-mouthed, messy, desperate kisses that tasted like sweat and tears and forever.

Your nails clawed at his back, leaving angry red lines in their wake, and Jay just groaned, thrusting harder, chasing that high he’d been starving for since the moment he realized he couldn’t hate you, no matter how much he tried.

“Come for me again,” he growled against your ear, voice dark and commanding. “Come all over my cock, baby. Show me who you fucking belong to.”

The coil in your belly snapped, pleasure ripping through you like wildfire, and you screamed his name as you came, clenching hard around him.

Jay followed with a desperate moan. One last deep, shaking thrust as he spilled inside you, shuddering, pressing his forehead to yours.

Jay didn't move at first, he didn't even think about pulling out.

He stayed buried inside you, breathing you in, cradling your body like something sacred.

And then, slowly, he pressed a kiss to your jaw.

Then another.

Then your cheek.

Then your temple.

Then your nose, your forehead, your lips—over and over, soft, reverent kisses that made you shiver and melt all at once.

You whimpered, still riding the tail-end of your high, your body sensitive and trembling.

Jay whispered against your skin, his voice so gentle it broke your heart.

“That’s it, omega,” he murmured. “Ride it out for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

He kissed the corners of your mouth, your tear-streaked cheeks, your swollen lips, whispering sweet nothings between every kiss.

“So good for me,” he breathed. “So fucking perfect. My girl.”

You laughed, a breathless, teary sound, pulling him closer by the nape of his neck. He let you tug him down, let you steal his mouth in another messy, lazy kiss, your lips barely brushing as you smiled against him.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours, eyes dark and soft and burning, he asked—voice low, teasing, but almost pleading underneath: “Do you still hate me, omega?”

You gave a watery giggle, shaking your head, your fingers threading into his sweat-damp hair.

“No,” you whispered, smiling against his lips, “Not even close.”

Jay’s whole body shuddered, like your words broke something loose inside him, and he kissed you again, deeper, slower, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the way his mouth moved against yours.

And when he finally pulled back, when he looked at you, flushed and wrecked and still trembling beneath him, something primal snapped in his gaze.

His hands framed your face again, thumbs brushing your cheeks, and he leaned so close that his next words ghosted against your mouth:

“Can I mark you?”

You gasped softly, not from fear, but from the sheer gravity of it. The room felt smaller, the air thicker, like the moment itself was alive, thrumming between you.

Jay grinned, a little dark, a little cocky, but there was so much love in his eyes it made your chest ache.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, voice cracking, “You’re already mine… but I want everyone to know it.”

Your heart twisted violently in your chest. You nodded, body trembling, and tilted your head back instinctively, baring your throat to him, offering yourself completely.

Trusting him.

Jay groaned—a raw, needy sound and buried his face in your neck, inhaling deep, almost drunk off your scent.

“God, you smell so good,” he rasped against your skin, “Sweet little thing. All mine.”

Tears stung your eyes, blurring the ceiling above, but you didn’t try to blink them away.

He kissed your throat, soft, open-mouthed kisses, dragging his teeth lightly over your pulse, making you shiver.

And then, without another word, he sank his teeth into the tender spot between your neck and shoulder—not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to leave a claim.

You cried out, clinging to him desperately as the world tilted around you. Your nails dug into his back, feeling him everywhere, your own tears slipping down your cheeks unchecked.

Jay shook against you, his own tears soaking into your skin as he licked over the mark, soothing it with slow, tender kisses.

“You’re so good,” he whispered, voice thick and wet with emotion, “So perfect for me. Always have been.”

He finally pulled back to look at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, glassy with unshed tears, his hair a mess, his lips swollen, and yet he looked at you like you were his entire world.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured, a shaky smile tugging at his lips, “And I’m yours. Always.”

Morning came slow and golden.

The first rays of sunlight seeped through the sheer curtains of Jay’s room, spilling across the dark wooden floors, brushing the edge of the bed, kissing the tangle of limbs and flushed skin on top of it.

The party downstairs had long since ended.

The house was silent.

The world was silent, as if it was holding its breath for the two of you.

Jay stirred first, a sleepy, contented grumble rumbling low in his chest as he tucked you closer, nuzzling into the crook of your neck where your scent was the strongest.

You whimpered a little at the friction, your body still achy and oversensitive from the night before, but Jay just hummed, satisfied, clearly not planning on letting you go anytime soon.

His arms were like steel bands around you, one slung low around your waist, the other curled up over your shoulder, fingers twisted into your hair to keep you tucked against him.

You felt his nose nudge along your skin, his lips brushing the fresh mark he’d left on your neck, and it sent a soft, electric shiver through you.

“Mine,” he mumbled against your skin, hoarse and gravelly with sleep.

You smiled, eyes still shut, heart aching so sweetly you thought it might split open.

You shifted just slightly, enough to look up at him through heavy lashes. But he was already looking at you.

His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and his eyes—usually so sharp, so burning—were soft, sleepy, a little puffy at the edges.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice still rough.

Jay just tightened his hold, sliding his leg between yours like he needed more contact, needed you pressed as close as humanly possible.

“Don’t move,” he mumbled, voice wrecked and stubborn, “Stay.”

You laughed softly, threading your fingers through his hair, feeling him melt into your touch like a sleepy cat.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jay.”

He sighed, like he’d been holding onto that fear even in his sleep, and buried his face in your neck again, breathing you in deep.

Jay kissed the mark again, like an apology and a promise all at once, and you felt yourself tear up a little, overwhelmed by the sheer tenderness of it all.

You tightened your arms around him, fingertips tracing slow, lazy patterns across his bare back, and for a moment—just a moment— it was like nothing else in the world existed.

Just the steady beat of his heart against yours. Just the soft warmth of the morning light seeping through the curtains. Just you and him, tangled up in something too big for words.

And then—

You both flinched as your phones, discarded somewhere across the room last night, suddenly lit up like Christmas trees, buzzing so aggressively it made the nightstand rattle.

Jay groaned loudly into your neck, his arms tightening around you stubbornly as if he could somehow will the rest of the world away.

You laughed breathlessly, the sound shaky with leftover tears, and tilted your head to glance at the source of the noise—the bright, blinking screens lighting up with a flood of notifications.

“Well,” you teased, voice still rough from sleep and emotion, “I guess we’re not dead… but they definitely think we killed each other.”

Jay growled low in his throat, refusing to lift his head from your skin.

“Let them think whatever they want,” he muttered. “They can wait. You come first.”

You smiled so wide it hurt and tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging gently. “Come on, Mr. Park. We should probably let them know you didn’t actually throw me off the balcony.”

He finally huffed a reluctant laugh against your throat, but didn’t move an inch.

Instead, he moved just enough to blindly fumble around the nightstand, still pressed firmly against you.

You felt him stretch an arm out, muscles flexing as he grabbed his phone without looking, before he wrapped both arms right back around you, the device now hovering just above your line of sight.

You giggled softly against his chest as you tilted your head, watching as Jay unlocked his phone with a lazy swipe of his thumb, and immediately flinched at the explosion of messages flooding his screen.

Heeseung [8:12 AM]: BRO DID YOU KILL (Y/N) OR DID YOU KILL HER, WHAT IS IT

Jungwon [8:12 AM]: Jay? Hello? Hello???

Jake [8:12 AM]: Guys what if they’re dead

Ni-ki [8:12 AM]: HELLO HELLO HELLO WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON DID THEY FINALLY KILL EACH OTHER

Sunghoon [8:13 AM]: someone call the police im serious 🤷‍♂️

Sunoo [8:13 AM]: bro imagine we have to explain to the media that they died fighting 💀

Heeseung [8:14 AM]: i don’t wanna cancel our trip to jeju later wtf do i tell (y/n)’s parents i booked a private plane under their company PLEASE RESPOND

Sunoo [8:14 AM]: LMFAOOO oh wow not jay’s company huh 👀

Sunghoon [8:14 AM]: wtf i haven’t even packed yet STOP PLAYING

Jay let out a low snort of amusement, his chest vibrating against you.

You tilted your head back slightly, just enough to see the way his mouth quirked up into that slow, cocky grin you knew all too well.

Still holding you snug against him, he started typing with both thumbs, his phone wobbling slightly in the air above your face.

Jay [8:15 AM]: we’re alive. we’ll be there later.

Seconds later, another explosion of messages hit:

Ni-ki [8:15 AM]: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN WE??????

Jake [8:15 AM]: no fucking way no no no no no

Sunghoon [8:16 AM]: yeah, i need a drink

Jay just smirked wider, lowering his phone back to the nightstand before tightening his grip on you, tugging you even closer into his chest like he couldn’t stand a single inch of space between you.

“They’re so dramatic,” he muttered into your hair, pressing a lazy kiss against the crown of your head.

“You’re literally worse.”

He hummed like he didn’t even deny it.

Before you could react, Jay moved, sweeping you up effortlessly into his arms, one under your knees, the other supporting your back. You gasped, clinging to his shoulders as he lifted you.

“Jay!” you squeaked, laughing breathlessly.

He only grinned, that lazy, devastating grin that made your heart race. “Princesses don’t walk,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You melted into him without a fight, hiding your face against his neck, breathing him in. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, and it made your chest ache in the sweetest way.

Jay carried you across the massive bedroom like you weighed nothing, setting you down gently on the cool marble counter of the bathroom.

He brushed your hair back with careful fingers, then grabbed a towel, wetting it with warm water.

You watched, blinking hard to keep from tearing up, as he cleaned you up with a reverence you didn’t think you deserved but that he gave you anyway.

“You’re so pretty,” he said under his breath, almost like he didn’t mean to let it slip.

You tugged lightly at his shirt, wordlessly pulling him in, and Jay leaned down without hesitation, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

When he was done, he let his hand linger against your cheek, his thumb stroking lazily.

“Alright, little princess,” he murmured, “you wanna raid my closet? Pick something to wear before we head out?”

You nodded shyly, and he grinned like he was proud of himself.

Jay helped you down from the counter, keeping a hand firmly at your waist like he wasn’t ready to let you go yet.

He guided you into the massive walk-in closet and gestured proudly.

“Take your pick, the empire’s yours.”

You snorted, rifling through his things, oversized hoodies, crisp dress shirts, soft designer sweats.

Eventually, you chose one of his favorite sweatshirts. He watched you pull it over your head with a look that could only be described as smitten.

Once the both of you were dressed, he laced your fingers with his again and tugged you toward the stairs. One hand stayed steady at your back the entire walk down, guiding you gently, protectively.

The Park estate opened up before you, morning sunlight pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows, gleaming against spotless marble floors and expensive furniture.

You blinked—there was no sign that a wild party had even happened just hours ago. No empty glasses, no discarded decorations, no mess.

The place was pristine.

Jay caught your glance and shrugged casually.

“We pay them enough,” he said with a smirk, his thumb tracing slow, comforting circles against your spine.

He led you outside, the garage doors sliding open smoothly, revealing rows of luxury cars lined up—Ferraris, Porsches, Lamborghinis.

He headed straight for a sleek black BMW, already gleaming under the early morning sun.

You squinted at it in surprise, “Not taking the Ferrari?”

Jay shot you a look over his shoulder, one brow raised.

“Please. I’m a family man now,” he said with a grin, unlocking the car. “I need to be flashy but timeless.”

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth.

He just winked at you, opening the passenger door and holding it out like a true pureblooded Alpha.

You slid inside the plush interior—the scent of leather and something distinctly Jay wrapping around you immediately.

The BMW i7, because of course it had to be the luxury electric sedan—was pure understated elegance, still sleek enough to scream money without being obnoxious.

Jay circled the front and climbed into the driver’s seat, immediately reaching for you.

One hand found your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy, possessive circles there, while the other started the engine.

The car hummed to life, smooth and silent, and Jay pulled out of the driveway like he wasn’t in a rush at all—like he had all the time in the world as long as you were sitting next to him.

Morning sunlight poured through the windshield, casting a soft glow on the sharp lines of his face, painting the air between you gold. It felt so easy, slipping into small talk. random jokes, casual teasing—the kind of mindless conversations that only came when you were at peace with someone.

But somewhere along the road, Jay’s voice dipped into something quieter, almost like he was thinking out loud.

“Y’know…” he said, thumb still tracing idle patterns on your thigh, “Heeseung almost beat the shit out of me once.”

You blinked, turning to glance at him. “Only once?”

Jay chuckled under his breath, the sound low and fond, “Okay… this time was different.”

He flexed his fingers slightly against you, gripping just a little tighter, like the memory still had claws in him.

“It was about a year ago,” he continued, his voice dipping softer, almost cautious. “I… caught a scent. It was intoxicating. It stopped me dead in my tracks.”

Your breath caught. Your chest tightened, because you already knew exactly where this was going.

“I followed it,” Jay said, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Like some idiot that couldn’t even think straight. Just moved. Through the hallways, past the South Wing… And then I wasn’t the only one. Other alphas caught it too. They started trailing after it—after you.”

You turned toward him fully now, eyes wide.

His jaw clenched, the muscles ticking. “They were talking. Joking. Saying disgusting shit. I don’t even remember what set me off, just that one of them said something like ‘whoever she is, she’s already mine’ and the next thing I knew…”

He exhaled hard, voice trembling with the weight of memory, “I lost it.”

“I fought them,” he said quietly, “right there in the middle of the hallway. Didn’t even register Heeseung yelling at me until he grabbed me from behind, slammed me against the lockers.”

Jay’s knuckles whitened around the wheel.

“Heeseung was furious. Said I was reckless. That I was scaring her. That I wasn’t thinking—just reacting.”

You closed your eyes for a second, heart thudding painfully.

“And when I looked up… you were already gone. You ran.”

The silence that fell between you was deafening and thick, like fog curling around your ribs. Like every breath was harder than the last.

Jay’s grip tightened again, “I didn’t know it was you,” he whispered. “Didn’t even see your face.”

You turned your head away, blinking fast as the car sped down the quiet streets, buildings blurring past.

Jay glanced at you, his voice lower now, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

There wasn’t any anger there, just something aching, something that bled.

You exhaled shakily. “I was scared,” you said, your voice barely there. “We hated each other so much back then… I thought if you knew, it would just make things worse. I thought you’d hate me even more.”

Jay pulled the car to a slow stop at a red light. His free hand reached over without hesitation, fingers finding yours. He threaded them together and brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles.

“I knew it,” he murmured against your skin. “The moment I smelled your scent last night… it all made sense.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, emotions crashing over you like waves against a cliff as Jay’s thumb brushed over your hand gently.

“(Y/N),” he said softly, eyes locked on yours, “if I knew sooner… we wouldn’t have wasted so much time fighting. But maybe…” he smiled, small and bittersweet, “Maybe fate knew what it was doing. Maybe we had to go through all that first… just to get here.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Maybe we did.”

Jay didn’t look away. Not even for a second. Like if he blinked, you’d disappear again. Like he was still trying to convince himself this wasn’t a dream.

Your fingers curled a little tighter around his, “Yes,” you added, more firmly this time. “Yes… I think we did.”

The long stretch of your family’s estate driveway came into view, guarded by manicured hedges and century-old trees that swayed lazily under the late morning sun.

You barely had time to pull your phone out before the front gate began to creak open. The guards didn’t even glance at the cameras or lift the clipboard that usually held a guest list. One of them even gave a small nod toward the BMW with a knowing grin.

Jay chuckled from the driver’s seat, one hand lazily resting on the wheel. “See that?” he murmured. “Didn’t even need to flex the last name this time.”

You were already reaching for your door handle when his voice cut through, teasing, but somehow impossibly gentle.

“Not on my watch.”

Before you could protest, he was unbuckled and out of his seat, circling the car with a graceful stride. He pulled open your door like it was second nature, offering his hand as you stepped out.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “You know I have hands, right?”

“Yeah,” Jay murmured, already slipping one of his arms around your waist, pulling you just a little closer as he leaned in. “But I like using mine on you better.”

Your breath caught for a second, but before you could say anything back, he was already guiding you toward the front steps, his hand never leaving your waist.

As the double doors opened, the two of you were met with the low hum of movement. Staff bustling past with quick, light steps, some carrying neatly packed luggage while others adjusted flower vases or stacked up trays by the door. But even in the rush, their smiles bloomed the moment they saw you both.

“Good morning, Ma’am. Sir,” one maid greeted politely, nodding once before ducking back into a hallway with a tray of fruit.

Another paused just long enough to grin and whisper, “Welcome back,” to Jay like he was some extended family member returning from vacation.

You blinked, glancing around at the busy, borderline chaotic atmosphere. “Okay, what is happening—”

“Darling!”

Your mother’s voice echoed through the hallway before you saw her, sweeping in from the corridor that led to the kitchen, wearing a silk robe over her day dress, earrings already on like she was mid-way through prepping for lunch guests.

“Mom—?”

But before you could finish, she was wrapping you up in a warm hug, her familiar perfume wrapping around you like a second home. A second later, her arms extended to Jay with equal affection. He stepped into her embrace easily, like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“I knew it,” she murmured as she pulled back with a sparkle in her eyes. “I knew something was different when Heeseung mentioned the group trip. I had a feeling.”

Trailing behind her, your father appeared, less dramatic than your mom, of course, but no less warm. His eyes crinkled as he clapped a hand to Jay’s shoulder.

“Well, well,” he said with a low chuckle. “Took you two long enough.”

Jay only laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck, still keeping his other arm loosely around your waist.

Your mom glanced over at the staircase, where another housekeeper was hurrying down with more of your things. “Your bags are almost done being packed, sweetheart. I told the staff as soon as I got wind of the flight being booked. Heeseung can’t keep secrets to save his life.”

You blinked. “Wait—you knew about the trip before I even—?”

“I had a hunch,” she smiled knowingly. “Mother’s instinct.”

Jay leaned closer, whispering in your ear, “They’re worse than we are.”

You bit back a laugh and turned to your mom. “I’m just gonna go upstairs and change real quick.”

She waved you off with a wink. “Take your time. I’m sure Jay will keep your father company.”

Jay remained at the base of the staircase, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks as he looked around the space he’d come to know like the back of his hand.

He didn’t wander or make himself at home, he stood there patiently, shoulders squared, waiting until he was invited further in.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Your father laughed, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, don’t just stand out here like a statue. Let’s sit. I’m sure we have a lot to talk about.”

Your mother smiled and motioned toward the sunlit living room just off the main foyer. “Let’s catch up before (Y/N) comes back down.”

Jay followed them into the living room, the tall windows letting soft afternoon light spill across the cream sofas and mahogany floors.

He waited until your parents were seated before taking the spot they offered, straight-backed but comfortable, like someone raised with discipline but surrounded by warmth.

“So,” your dad started, leaning forward slightly with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Tell me, how’s my favorite rival company’s heir doing? Still beating our numbers in Q2?”

Jay smirked. “Only barely. You’re making it harder every year, sir.”

“Good,” your father said with a nod of approval. “You’ll need the fight in you. So… are you planning on taking the reins before or after graduation?”

“After,” Jay replied. “Officially, anyway. But I’ve been managing one of the Park Group’s newer divisions since last year. It’s a test, sort of —my father wants to see if I can build something without the family name propping it up.”

“And?” your mom asked, interest piqued.

Jay met her eyes, confident. “It’s going well. Better than expected.”

Your father leaned back, eyebrows raised in surprise and maybe a bit of pride. “Look at that. You're already shaping up to be a better CEO than half the council. And what about your personal life?”

Jay hesitated, just for a second. Then he gave a small smile.

“Actually… that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Is this about our daughter?” your mom asked, her tone teasing but gentle.

“Yes,” Jay nodded. “I know you probably saw it coming, but something changed recently.”

He took a breath.

“We’re mates.”

Silence blanketed the room.

Your mom blinked, mouth parting slightly in shock. “You’re—? What?”

Jay nodded again. “I found out last night. I didn’t tell her immediately—I didn’t want to scare her. We weren’t exactly… in the best place before. But I’ve always known. And now she knows too.”

Your dad sat forward, processing. “Mates? As in… fated?”

Jay nodded. “Yes, sir. I couldn’t believe it either at first.”

Your mom slowly sat back, eyes still wide but brimming with awe. “We always thought you two would end up together eventually but—this?”

Jay smiled a little. “It surprised me too. But in the best way.”

Your dad looked at him for a long second before breaking into a grin and reaching forward to clap his hand onto Jay’s shoulder.

“Now that is a twist I didn’t see coming. But you know what? If there’s anyone I’d want my daughter to be bonded to for life… it’s you.”

Jay’s expression softened, something like relief and deep gratitude passing over his face.

“Thank you, sir. That means everything.”

“And now I don’t even have to threaten you to keep her safe,” your dad added with a wink. “The bond’s already doing the work.”

Your mom laughed gently. “Poor thing. He’s already halfway in love with our family.”

“Halfway?” your dad scoffed. “I think he’s already planning the wedding.”

Jay flushed slightly but smiled anyway, glancing toward the stairs where you’d disappeared minutes ago.

“If she’ll have me,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Then yeah… I am.”

And as if summoned by the warmth in his voice, the faint sound of heels tapping echoed faintly from the top of the stairs, but not quite loud enough to carry into the living room if it hadn’t been for the silence that followed Jay’s confession.

You emerged, one hand brushing down the sleek fabric of your dress, the other adjusting the strap of your purse. “Did I miss anything?” you asked casually, a small smile playing on your lips.

Jay turned his head—and for a second, he could only stare. You were matching him.

From head to toe—Prada. The rich black of your dress mirrored the stitching of his blazer. Your heels were delicate but sharp, and your purse swung gently from your fingers like you’d been born to carry it. Like fate had handpicked this exact moment to knock the wind right out of him.

Jay let out a quiet, breathless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Not a thing,” he said softly, rising to his feet.

Your parents, sitting just nearby, shared a knowing look. The kind only longtime friends and now amused parents could understand. Jay didn’t miss it. He offered a respectful nod, then turned his full attention to you.

With an easy, instinctive grace, he walked toward the stairs and extended his hand to you. “Let me,” he murmured, voice low as if the act itself was something sacred.

You didn’t hesitate. Your fingers slid into his, and his touch was warm. He supported you gently as you stepped down, the way he always did when no one else was looking. Except now, everyone was.

Behind you, your mother smiled at the sight while your father quietly cleared his throat, trying to mask the fond grin tugging at his lips.

“Well, don’t let us hold you two up,” your dad said, standing. “You’ve got a trip to prepare for, right?”

“We’ll have the staff help with your luggage,” your mom added with a wave. “Already had some of them load the bags into the car, figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Jay gave them a polite bow of thanks. “Thank you, ma’am. Sir.”

But your mom only chuckled, waving him off. “Oh, hush. We’re practically family now.”

Jay glanced back at you, his fingers still wrapped gently around yours.

“Ready?” he asked, voice soft, just for you.

You nodded.

“Always.”

The ride to the airport was calm, the kind of stillness that felt heavenly. Jay drove with one hand on the steering wheel, the other comfortably resting on your thigh, a new habit of his he wasn’t even subtle about anymore.

Your hand rested over his, fingers loosely laced. You didn’t need to speak. There was something peaceful about just sitting beside him.

As the city began to fade behind you, replaced by long private roads and security gates, you both recognized the road instantly. The executive terminal: exclusive, guarded, and custom-fitted to handle high-profile families like yours.

Jay slowed the car in front of the entrance gate, and before anyone could reach for IDs or protocols, the guard recognized the vehicle immediately and stepped back with a slight bow.

“Mr. Park,” he greeted. “Welcome back.”

Jay gave a nod, the shift in his expression immediate. Gone was the quiet softness from earlier, in its place was the composed, unreadable pureblood Alpha everyone knew. Shoulders squared, jaw sharp, posture flawless. This was the version of Jay the world saw. The version you used to see, too.

He drove up to the private hangar like he owned the place, parking with ease.

You reached for your door out of instinct, already used to doing things yourself.

But before you could even brush the handle, you heard him mutter low under his breath, a smirk ghosting his lips.

“So stubborn.”

“Stay put,” he added, “I’ve got it.”

You blinked, amused, and waited as he circled around to your side, opening the door with confidence only Jay could pull off. One hand reached out to help you, while the other naturally returned to your waist—always touching, always claiming.

Two staff members approached from the terminal, rolling a luggage cart beside them. And the moment they entered the scene, Jay changed again.

Eyes sharper. Back straighter. Voice clipped and clear.

He helped unload the luggage himself, ignoring the slight protests from the staff. Calm, professional. Cold, even. The full effect of a pureblooded Alpha.

The staff didn’t dare question him, only nodded along and took the bags with a silent understanding.

Then Jay turned back to you, and just like that, he softened.

He walked toward you, hand naturally returning to your lower back like a reflex, you leaned into him without thinking.

He handed his keys to a man waiting off to the side—one of your family’s staff.

“Same spot as last time,” Jay said smoothly. “Make sure it’s locked.”

“Yes, sir. Safe travels.”

He nodded once, eyes already back on you. “Everything’s good,” he said gently. “Let’s go.”

But before either of you could even take a step toward the plane, the air cracked with the sound of multiple gasps and curses.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

“I KNEW IT!” Ni-ki practically screamed, throwing his hands up like he'd just won the lottery. “I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

You and Jay both froze, turning slowly.

Jay’s demeanor didn’t change much—stoic, as always—but there was the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth. The pureblooded alpha aura didn’t falter, but you knew him too well now. He was amused.

You, on the other hand, were already trying not to burst into laughter.

Ni-ki looked like he’d just witnessed history being made. “This feels illegal. I feel so betrayed. Everyone has their mates now. What the hell—”

Jungwon chuckled and patted him on the back like a grieving brother. “It’s okay, Ni-ki. One day, you’re still young.”

“I’m eighteen!”

“Exactly.”

Sunoo was fanning his mate like they were on the verge of passing out. “Baby, breathe— I told you. I told you something was going on, didn’t I? The text message!”

Heeseung had a hand on his forehead, staring at the two of you like he couldn’t compute what he was seeing. His mate was gripping his arm, whispering, “Hee, calm down, your jaw’s on the floor.”

Jake and Jungwon both had their arms around their mates, grinning ear to ear.

“Finally,” Jake muttered, practically beaming. “He actually did it.”

“I told you there was no way they hated each other that much,” Jungwon added.

Sunghoon let out a long exhale and shook his head, his mate squeezing his hand. “That’s one more bet I lost.”

“Should’ve listened to me,” Jake grinned. “I said it’d happen before the semester ended.”

“You also said they’d kill each other before finals,” Jungwon’s mate reminded him.

He shrugged. “Same thing.”

But before any of them could spiral again, a low chime echoed across the hangar.

The pilot stepped forward with a slight bow. “The aircraft is ready. You may board now.”

Jay nodded once, adjusting the strap of his carry-on while his other hand instinctively found your lower back again. “Come on.”

But you barely made it five steps before chaos exploded behind you again.

“WAIT, WAIT—YOU'RE JUST GONNA WALK AWAY?!” Ni-ki cried, storming forward and jabbing Jay repeatedly in the ribs with his index finger. “You don’t get to drop a relationship bomb and not explain anything! You’re like my older brother, and you’ve been lying to me this whole time?!”

Jay didn't even flinch. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I slept in the same house as you! I let you drive my Lamborghini Revuelto! I shared my bungeoppang with you!” Ni-ki clutched his chest like Jay had personally betrayed his bloodline. “Bungeoppang, Jay!”

The others erupted in laughter, and Jay finally cracked a tiny smirk, clearly amused but trying not to show it.

“YOU!” Sunoo’s mate pointed at you with a gasp. “Come here right now.”

Before you could even blink, you were swept right out of Jay’s reach by a very determined cluster of mates—Sunoo’s, Jungwon’s, Jake’s, Heeseung’s, even Sunghoon’s—looping their arms around yours like a pack of seagulls finding shiny treasure.

“No!” Jay called behind you, his voice laced with playful disbelief. “Don’t tell them anything!”

But it was too late. They had you now.

“How did it happen?”

“Who confessed first?”

“Did he like, chase after you?”

“Did he scent you before or after the party?!”

“Was it romantic or did he just say, ‘You’re mine now’ in that stupid alpha voice of his?”

You were laughing now, nearly breathless as they herded you up the steps to the private plane like a gaggle of gossiping aunts. “I—It’s complicated!”

“So you are scented and marked!” Sunoo’s mate screamed.

Inside the plane, Jay sighed and looked at the other alphas, already walking up with their own bags.

“She’s not making it out of this alive.”

“You’re not either,” Jake grinned. “You’re gonna be the main topic of the whole student body after this.”

Onboard, the cabin was sleek and spacious, cushioned leather seats and wood-paneled walls humming with quiet luxury. Everyone was settling in—bags in compartments, jackets off, seatbelts clicked.

You were finally back beside Jay, who placed your bag in the overhead with one hand and rested the other on your thigh like it was second nature. Like it had always been his favorite place to rest.

“But, when did this even happen?!” Jake asked as he buckled in across from Jay, barely able to contain the grin on his face. “Was it before the council meeting yesterday? During the party? What?”

“I need a timeline,” Jake’s mate added, already halfway turned in her seat as she looked at you for answers.

“I second that,” Jungwon nodded, his arm draped lazily around his mate. “The whole council is going to have a meltdown when they find out. I want to know exactly when to be ready.”

Ni-ki was practically vibrating in his seat. “You said you hated (Y/N)!” he cried, pointing accusingly at Jay with narrowed eyes. “You said she made your blood boil!”

Jay blinked. “So-so, I said she was annoying, infuriating, exasperating, bothersome, and tiresome. ”

“Same thing!” Ni-ki snapped, voice cracking in betrayal.

Sunghoon, who had been leaning back with his arms crossed, let out a sigh and casually tossed a bag of chips across the aisle. “There, there, you big baby,” he muttered.

Ni-ki caught the bag with deadly precision, sending Sunghoon a sharp glare. “This isn’t over.”

Jay just rolled his eyes, the faintest smirk on his lips as his hand found your thigh again.

“Seriously, though,” Jake leaned in a bit, tone curious. “When did it happen? You two hated each other for years.”

Jay gave your leg a small squeeze, glancing at you for confirmation before answering. “Just yesterday, really,” he said simply. “It… clicked.”

“‘Clicked,’ he says,” Sunoo muttered with a shake of his head. “We need to talk about how to define ‘clicked’ from now on.”

The soft ding of the seatbelt sign echoed through the private jet, signaling it was safe to move around. Heeseung’s mate immediately perked up, turning to Jay with a cheeky grin.

“Can we steal her for a bit?” She asked, motioning to you already mid-laugh with Sunoo’s mate and the others gathering near the lounging area at the back of the plane.

Jay sighed dramatically, but the corners of his mouth betrayed the amusement he tried to hide. His hand lingered on your thigh for a second longer before he gently pulled away.

“Fine,” he murmured, leaning in to press a warm, tender kiss to your cheek. “Have fun, but don’t forget whose seat that is.”

You giggled, giving his hand a squeeze before letting the girls tug you toward the oversized cream leather couch that wrapped around one corner of the plane. It was cozy and softly lit, with plush pillows and just enough privacy from the boys still seated at the front.

Sunoo’s mate—who had somehow befriended one of the flight attendants like they’d known each other for years—flashed a wink and raised a single hand in the air.

“Champagne, please? For… celebration purposes.”

The attendant giggled and nodded, “Coming right up.”

As laughter erupted from the girls’ side, the guys remained at the front, scattered across the seats. Heeseung slowly stood and made his way to Jay’s side, his expression more thoughtful than stern. He dropped into the seat across from him, arms loosely crossed over his chest.

“I’m gonna ask you something,” Heeseung began, his voice low enough to be serious but not confrontational. “And you better answer me straight.”

Jay looked up, posture instinctively alert. “Go ahead.”

“You didn’t force her into this, right?” Heeseung asked, brows furrowing slightly. “Because I remember the incident. I had to physically pull you back from losing it. And even though I didn’t get to be around her as much as I wanted when we were younger, I still saw (Y/N) as a little sister. You know that.”

Jay didn’t speak for a second. His gaze shifted briefly toward you—legs folded under you, glass of champagne in hand, laughing at whatever nonsense Ni-ki’s mate just said. Then back to Heeseung.

“I didn’t force anything,” Jay replied softly. “Not a single thing. I didn’t even realize how bad I wanted her until I saw her cry… and I couldn’t do anything about it. But no. She chose this. She chose me.”

Heeseung nodded slowly, leaning back. “Okay. Good. Just had to make sure.”

“And if I did?” Jay challenged lightly, one brow raised in a smirk. He flashed a smile, one canine subtly showing. It wasn’t meant as a threat, but rather instinct; a silent, unspoken flex only pureblooded Alphas understood.

“Then I’d have to throw you off this plane mid-air,” Heeseung replied with a half-smile. “With no parachute.”

“Fair.”

From behind them, Sunghoon added, “Same goes for if you ever make (Y/N) cry again. Just saying.”

“Noted.”

Jake leaned over the armrest with a mock-serious look. “If she texts me anything longer than three sentences sounding even slightly sad, I’m storming your house with Jungwon and Ni-ki.”

“I’ll bring my baseball bat,” Ni-ki offered with a casual shrug.

“I’ll bring my lawyer,” Jungwon quipped.

Sunoo, from the side, rested his chin on his palm. “And I’ll cry. Loudly. And dramatically. For hours.”

Jay couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. “Wow. Emotional blackmail and legal threats? That’s impressive.”

“You mess with (Y/N), you mess with all of us,” Heeseung shrugged. “You knew the deal the moment you fell for her, we’re like her annoying big brothers.”

Jay just nodded, more affected than he let on. “I know. She’s worth all of it.”

At the back of the plane, you peeked toward the front and found Jay already looking at you. He gave you the softest smile—one none of them had seen before today—and you swore your heart did a little flip.

You mouthed, ‘You okay?’

He just nodded, mouthing back, ‘Perfect.’

And then Ni-ki’s voice cut through the air like a bullet.

“I still can’t believe you managed to keep a secret relationship for a whole day! From me!?” Ni-ki wailed dramatically, arms flung into the air like it was the end of the world.

“Ni-ki, oh my god,” you groaned from the couch, laughing so hard you almost spilled your drink. “We didn’t even try to hide it. You’re just blind.”

“That’s a lie and you know it!” he pointed accusingly, already gearing up for another round of outrage.

Jungwon’s mate leaned in from the other couch, glass of champagne in hand, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “It’s okay, boo. We’ll tease you just as much when you find your mate.”

Ni-ki went completely still.

“Hell no.”

The entire cabin erupted into laughter—Sunoo actually snorted, and Jake nearly spilled his water as he doubled over. Even Heeseung cracked a grin while shaking his head.

“Oh my god, he looked like you asked him to give up one of his cars,” Jungwon wheezed, pointing at Ni-ki.

“I’d consider giving up one of my cars,” Ni-ki deadpanned, eyes narrowed. “But getting mated? That’s permanent.”

Sunghoon lifted his glass in salute. “Such a big baby.”

Ni-ki glared at him. “Say that again and I’ll tell your mate you cried at Titanic.”

Sunghoon gasped, nearly choking on his drink. “You said that was a safe space!”

You were breathless from laughter, cradling your glass to your chest as Jay sent you a soft smile.

It was warm. It was real. And for the first time, it didn’t feel like some fantasy or secret—just yours. And his.

The descent was smooth, but the moment the plane’s wheels kissed the ground, excitement hummed like electricity in the air. As the door opened and the stairs were lowered, the scent hit you all almost instantly—warm, salty, and heady. The ocean.

Jungwon was the first to breathe it in, eyes widening slightly. “Smells like freedom.”

Ni-ki stepped out right behind him, inhaling deeply. “Smells like salt and sand in my shoes.”

“Not this again,” Sunghoon muttered, shaking his head as he slung an arm over his mate’s shoulder.

The group was ushered into waiting black SUVs—sleek, polished, and already air-conditioned. The kind of airport-to-hotel service only the wealthy were used to.

You and Jay naturally took one car, while the rest split into their own pairs and groups. The ride was scenic, the road winding along cliffsides with views of the sprawling sea, sun dipping low in the sky.

At the hotel lobby, grand and gilded in a way that didn’t feel showy—just expensive—everyone gathered by the reception desk, carry-ons in hand. Bellboys already whisked away the rest of the luggage.

The front desk staff handed out keycards with practiced grace.

“Couples get the honeymoon suites,” Sunoo teased with a smirk, flashing his and his mate’s matching keycards.

Ni-ki dramatically dropped his carry-on with a groan. “Thank God! I was about to stab my eyeballs out if I had to witness one more mushy couple moment.”

“Why are you so dramatic?” Jungwon laughed, ruffling his hair as he passed by.

“It’s a skill,” Ni-ki sniffed, picking up his bag with a huff.

Your suite was at the far end of the top floor, quiet and private—like everything about it had been carefully curated. The moment you stepped inside, your breath caught.

It was magic.

Wide open, marble floors, soft white furniture, walls made of glass overlooking the ocean. A king-sized bed sat at the center of it all like royalty, and the sound of the waves crashing in the distance filled the space like a lullaby.

You walked towards the balcony, the sliding glass door already slightly ajar, letting in the salty air and golden light. The view made you pause completely.

Endless ocean. A stretch of ivory beach. The horizon bathed in sunset orange.

You smiled softly, leaning on the railing. Behind you, Jay’s lingered. His arms circled around your waist, pulling you back into his chest as he leaned his chin gently on your shoulder. A soft kiss was pressed to the top of your head.

“You good?” he asked, voice low and warm.

You nodded, your fingers playing with his. “Do you want another room? I know you like your peace and quiet.”

He let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “This view is so much better.”

You turned slightly to catch the small smile tugging at his lips, eyes locked on you, not the sunset.

“You’re so cheesy,” you whispered, laughing.

“And yet you still love me.”

Jay’s lips were gentle but determined as they trailed along the curve of your neck, hands now resting low on your hips while the waves crashed far beneath the balcony.

The golden light from the sunset made everything glow—his skin, your cheeks, the white curtains swaying in the ocean breeze. His voice rumbled softly against your skin as he murmured something you didn’t catch, too distracted by the way his nose nuzzled behind your ear.

You were smiling like an idiot. That kind of unbothered, heart-floating smile that said: I could stay here forever.

And then, your phone buzzed.

You groaned dramatically, grabbing it from where you had left it on the lounge chair nearby, thumb tapping the notification.

my girl + and heeseung’s too [6:40 PM]: hi babes! get changed in a bit okay?? dinner’s at this five-star restaurant sunghoon booked by the beach. v romantic, dress cute 💗 see u there!

You held up the phone with a little laugh. “We’ve been summoned.”

Jay didn’t even look up. His lips were already lower—brushing over your collarbone with the kind of devotion that made your knees weak.

You smacked his shoulder, trying not to burst into a fit of laughter.

“Jay!”

He groaned and buried his face into your neck.

“I can never have nice things,” he mumbled against your skin, voice full of playful frustration. “Every time I try to be happy.”

You twisted around in his arms, cupping his face and pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’ll survive.”

He followed you as you stepped back into the suite, eyes raking down your body like you were something out of a dream.

"Fine,” he sighed again, hands shoved dramatically in his pockets. “But only because I want to show you off.”

You emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, slipping on your gold hoops and adjusting the soft chain around your neck—and Jay’s eyes snapped to you like a moth to a flame.

You were wearing a flowy white skirt that hugged your hips like it was tailored for you, the hem falling just above your ankles and catching the light as you moved.

On top, a strapless tube blouse bloomed in soft tones of blush pink and white florals, cinched perfectly at your waist. You’d kept your makeup light, sun-kissed, a dab of gloss on your lips and shimmer on your cheekbones. The final touch was a set of gold bangles and the way your hair fell just right.

Jay’s jaw went slack for a second before he swallowed thickly and straightened his collar.

“I’m gonna fight someone tonight,” he said flatly.

You looked him over too, cheeks warming—because your man showed up in an off-white linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar undone just enough to show the chain you always stared at. He paired it with tailored beige shorts, casual but rich. Hair freshly tousled, cologne just the right amount.

“You clean up okay,” you teased.

Jay raised a brow. “Okay?”

You gave him a cheeky grin and pulled him closer by the front of his shirt. “Okay, but dangerously hot.”

He leaned in to kiss you again—until your phone buzzed. Again.

This time, it was Jungwon’s mate.

best girl [7:20 PM]: HELLO the table is literally set. we’re WAITING. pls come before ni-ki starts eating the candles.

You both groaned, bursting into laughter.

“Let’s go,” you said, grabbing your bag and slipping your hand into his. “We have an audience to shock.”

“You mean impress,” Jay corrected smugly, kissing the back of your hand before leading you out the door.

Just before stepping out of the suite, Jay leaned in one more time—his hand cradling your jaw as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. He lingered longer than he probably should have, but you didn’t mind. Your hands slid into the front of his shirt as you kissed him back, warm and sure and sweet.

When you pulled apart, his thumb grazed your cheek.

“God, you’re ravishing,” he whispered.

You laughed, breathless. “Just like you.”

The elevator ride was quiet, full of those soft looks and stupid little smiles, the kind you couldn’t wipe off even if you tried. Jay had one hand holding yours and the other stuffed in his pocket, body leaning slightly toward you like gravity itself was playing favorites.

The doors opened, and the two of you stepped out into a different world.

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, giving way to a sky full of stars. Lanterns and fairy lights strung between palm trees danced in the breeze, while fire pits lit up the sand near the shore.

The beachfront restaurant was glowing, flames flickering and casting golden hues across everything. There were live performers by the boardwalk—someone playing acoustic guitar, a couple of dancers moving like waves—and laughter from every table filled the air like music.

And there they were: your friends. Your chaotic, perfect family.

“Finally!” Sunoo’s mate waved you over dramatically. “We were about to start a missing persons search.”

“I was two seconds away from calling the coast guard,” Jungwon’s mate added.

Ni-ki, who was mid-bite of some appetizer he’d stolen from the center platter, pointed at you both with wide eyes.

“Why do you two look like a vacation ad?”

Jay gave him a smug grin. “Because we’re happy.”

“Gross,” Ni-ki gagged.

But despite the eye-rolls, everyone lit up when you joined the group. And as Jay pulled out a chair for you like a perfect gentleman, the rest of the boys followed suit—pushing chairs in for their mates, brushing sand off seats, scooting closer to make room for elbows and chaos.

“You’d think we were in a k-drama,” Sunghoon said under his breath, but you saw the little smile he wore as he adjusted his mate’s shawl.

Heeseung leaned back, eyes drifting up to the starry sky. “Damn, it’s nice out tonight.”

“Yeah,” his mate agreed, sipping wine. “Almost makes you forget that Ni-ki tried to eat a candle earlier.”

“It looked like marshmallow wax!” Ni-ki defended, voice muffled by the bread roll in his mouth.

The whole table erupted in laughter.

“You’re going to be thirty and we’re still going to call you the baby,” Sunoo said, affectionately.

“That’s because I am the baby,” Ni-ki sniffed, flicking a piece of lettuce at Jungwon.

“You say that like it’s a flex,” Jay muttered.

“It is!” Ni-ki declared, puffing out his chest like a toddler defending their favorite blanket.

Jungwon just leaned back with a small smile, arm slung behind his mate. “Don’t worry, we’ll still tease you just as hard when you find your own mate, Ni-ki.”

“As I said, hell no,” Ni-ki said immediately. “I’m staying single forever. I’ve seen what y’all turn into—”

He gestured wildly at the group pf pureblooded Alphas helping their partners cut food, fix jewelry, pass drinks, refill plates, or in Jay’s case—who was currently leaning over to tuck your hair behind your ear with a smile so sweet it made you blush.

“—absolute whipped losers.”

Jay kissed your temple without shame. “Happy losers.”

“You’ll be one of us one day,” Jake’s mate told Ni-ki with a knowing smile.

The youngest alpha shivered dramatically. “Over my dead body.”

The laughter came easy, waves of it crashing over your little corner of paradise. You looked around at the familiar faces, the jokes that overlapped, the little touches and glances exchanged between everyone.

You felt Jay’s hand rest on your thigh under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. When you turned to him, he was already looking at you with that soft, quiet kind of awe.

“What?” you whispered.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “Just thinking how stupid lucky I am.”

Your heart did a full flip.

“Same,” you whispered back, lips brushing his.

And then the food arrived—plated beautifully, the scents of garlic butter, grilled meat, and warm bread snapping everyone out of their starry-eyed haze. A waiter slid a wooden board of seared steak between you and Jay, and another set down a massive tray of garlic shrimp next to Ni-ki, whose eyes lit up like Christmas.

You straightened in your seat, cheeks warm, just in time to hear Jungwon mutter across from you, “We can’t drown in steak and shrimp all night. That’s how you get greasy skin and regret.”

Jay snorted. “You sound like your dad.”

“I am my dad,” Jungwon said solemnly, lifting a fork.

You both had ordered salads earlier—more out of balance than preference. “Mine has feta cheese and baby spinach,” he said proudly, holding his plate up for a second like it was a championship belt. “You added strawberries,” Jungwon pointed at your bowl with a grimace, lifting his fork like it offended him.

“They’re balsamic-glazed,” you countered coolly, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “It’s gourmet, you can’t compete.”

“I can and I will.”

“You’re delusional,” you replied, already picking up your fork and motioning a dramatic switch. “Let’s trade for a second. Just so you can finally realize you’re wrong.”

“Oh, I’m wrong?”

Around the table, your little argument was clearly entertaining. Sunoo was chuckling behind his napkin, Heeseung was recording the whole banter, while Ni-ki—mouth full of shrimp—just mumbled, “God, they’re both so stubborn.”

But just as you and Jungwon leaned over the table, balancing forks and exchanging plates to exchange bites, a sudden voice chimed in—bright, musical, and unfamiliar.

“You’re glowing. Come! Come!”

A hand appeared at your arm before you could react, gently tugging you from your seat.

“Wait—what—?”

Before you knew it, a woman dressed in vibrant orange and red was leading you toward the stage-like dance platform built into the sand just a few feet from the restaurant tables. Laughter erupted behind you.

Another performer had already snatched Jungwon’s mate, and a third was tugging on Jay’s arm, urging him to follow you with a playful, “You too, handsome!”

Jay stood with zero hesitation, eyes fixed on you like he couldn’t let you out of his sight for more than a second. “Guess we’re dancing.”

“You are not leaving me!” Jungwon barked as his mate started dragging him up next. “You know I hate—” he yelped as she kissed his cheek mid-pull—“—dancing.”

“You’ll live!” she laughed.

Within moments, the stage was alive. The wooden floor was warm under your feet, the lights overhead casting gold and amber glows over everything. The song thumping like a heartbeat into the night. Drums, horns, guitars, and claps filled the air as the performers began spinning, clapping, moving around you with infectious joy.

You moved instinctively, hair flying around your shoulders, hips swaying with the rhythm. Your white skirt flowed with each step, golden jewelry catching glints of light as you raised your arms and let go. And that’s when Jay forgot everything.

The music. The people. The polished table he’d left behind. Even the fact that just a few feet away, Jungwon was being twirled by his mate, canine peeking out as he laughed and tried not to trip over his own feet.

Normally, Jay would’ve never let him live that down—he would’ve teased him about the flush crawling up his neck, the way he was clearly embarrassed but still going along with it.

But not tonight.

Because Jay’s gaze was fixed on you.

You, spinning in the amber light like you belonged to the sea and sky both. You, radiant and glowing, your lips, full and glossed, were curved in the kind of smile that made something in his chest physically ache.

Your hair fluttered in the ocean breeze, strands catching the wind with every spin, every laugh, every head toss that made your gold accessories catch the light and shimmer like they were part of you.

Goddess. That was the only word that came to mind.

You looked like a goddess.

You looked divine.

The prime example of a perfect Omega. No, his Omega.

Jay stood frozen on the edge of the stage, jaw slack, heart pounding. He looked utterly and entirely wrecked. And then—slowly, like pulled by gravity he couldn’t fight—he stepped forward.

His feet moved before his brain caught up.

He didn’t care if people saw. Didn’t care if someone whispered about Park Jongseong, heir to an empire, dancing on a beach stage like some love-struck idiot. Didn’t care if the cameras snapped, if the council caught wind, if it got printed on some gossip page tomorrow.

Let them talk.

All he cared about was you.

He reached you in a daze, hands sliding around your waist like they’d been waiting for this exact moment. His fingers splayed over your hips, thumbs brushing against the exposed skin beneath your top, eyes drinking you in like he hadn’t seen you in years—like you were the most intoxicating thing in the world.

You turned your head slightly in surprise, smiling when you realized it was him. He looked at you. Like you hung the stars. Like he was completely, unapologetically, catastrophically in love.

“Hi…” you breathed, unsure whether to laugh or melt into him.

But you didn’t need to say anything else.

He pulled you closer with ease, your bodies molding together as the beat picked up again. You moved with him, spinning just slightly, your hands bracing his shoulders as his found your waist again—confident, possessive, in awe.

His gaze never broke from yours, not even as your hair flew again, brushing against his cheeks, not even as the stage swayed with laughter and movement around you. He moved with you like he’d been dancing this dance for years. Like his body had memorized yours long before this night even began.

The cheers from the crowd only grew louder. Some from your table, some strangers now clapping to the beat, watching the way Jay held you like a man who knew what he had—and wasn’t ever letting go.

His lips brushed your ear, breath hot and reverent.

“I’m so gone for you,” he murmured.

And god, he was.

Down to the bone.

Down to the softest part of him that he never let anyone see.

He dipped you suddenly, catching your weight with ease, the edge of your skirt brushing the floor, your hair cascading in the light like a waterfall of ink. You gasped, both at the move and at the look in his eyes when he hovered above you.

Not just desire.

Devotion.

He pulled you back up with that same effortless grace, holding you steady even as your knees wobbled slightly from the dip and the rush of it all.

You grinned at him, breathless. “You’re insane.”

Jay smirked, forehead falling to yours. “For you? Always.”

As the music finally slowed, a new beat taking over, softer and slower now, the two of you stayed there for a second—foreheads pressed, the world shrinking into nothing but the warmth between you. Then Jay pulled back, brushing your hair from your face with the gentlest flick of his fingers.

You hadn’t even fully turned around yet when you heard the deafening noise coming from your table.

“Go Jay! That’s my best friend!” Sunoo’s voice rang out above everything else, his clap echoing as he jumped to his feet.

Heeseung choked on his drink, nearly dropping his glass. “This is love, people! Do you see that?! This is what Shakespeare wrote about!”

Jake banged the table with both palms, voice hoarse from yelling. “I knew it! I called it first!”

“No, I did,” Sunghoon argued, which was rich coming from him, considering he was practically standing on his chair—his usual cold, unreadable expression long gone as he cupped his hands around his mouth. “I always said Jay was down bad for her.”

Ni-ki wasn’t even watching the scene anymore; he was working double-time, phone in one hand, a camera strapped to the other like some kind of paparazzi. “Everyone move! I need a clear shot! Okay, now kiss—wait, let me get this angle...”

The girls screamed like you had just walked the carpet at Cannes.

Sunoo’s mate gripped his hand, practically yanking his arm off as they jumped up and down together. “That’s my best friend too!”

Heeseung’s mate clutched his arm, pressing her face into his bicep as she let out a long, dreamy sigh. “They look like they stepped straight out of a romance movie.”

Heeseung just nodded as he calmed down, misty-eyed. “This is so real. This is soulmates. No one talk to me.”

Jake’s mate threw her head back laughing, covering her mouth with both hands. “Jay is so down bad, and I have never seen Jungwon look more flustered.”

Sunghoon’s mate nearly collapsed into Jake’s as they leaned against each other. “Those men are in love.”

Behind you, soft laughter spilled through the air as the music slowly faded.

Jungwon was hovering just a few feet away, his posture tense, entire face flushed red. His mate had her arms around his shoulders, soothing him with a hand in his hair. Jungwon had ducked down—his chin pressed to her shoulder, nose buried in her scent, his height folded awkwardly so he could hide behind her like a kid clinging to his comfort blanket.

“I bared my canines like some flustered puppy.” Jungwon muttered.

“You looked adorable,” his mate said, holding back a giggle.

“Stop,” he groaned, ears red and canines still slightly peeking out in a shy grin. “I twirled. I twirled and now Ni-ki has footage.”

He tightened his grip around his mate’s waist as Jay and you began walking back toward the table, your hands still tangled, smiles still evident on your faces.

Jungwon muttered through gritted teeth, “I’m never hearing the end of this.”

“Just wait until Ni-ki posts these online,” his mate teased.

“Kill me now.”

You passed them with a laugh, bumping shoulders with the younger Alpha, your tone light. “You looked good out there, Mr. President.”

“I—” Jungwon didn’t even finish. He just whimpered and buried himself deeper into his mate’s shoulder.

Jay raised a brow, smirking. “The twirl was nice. We should duet sometime.”

“LEAVE ME ALONE.”

You were mid-laugh, just turning back toward the table with Jungwon and his mate when a gentle tug stopped you in your tracks. Jay’s hand found yours easily, fingers lacing between yours with the kind of confidence that could only come from someone who’s been dying to hold you like this for longer than he’d ever admit.

“Wait,” he said lowly, already stepping closer, his voice practically vibrating against your skin. “Didn’t we say we were gonna go back inside to order those extra margaritas?”

You blinked, confused. “We—what? No, we didn’t—”

Jay didn’t even let you finish. “Yeah, we did. During that second spin—you said, ‘remind me to get more drinks later, okay?’” He was trying so hard not to smile, eyes glinting with mischief.

“I—Jay, I literally said ‘remind me to not trip in these heels,’ and you said ‘bet.’”

He was already dragging you backward with a grin, pulling you toward the main hall of the venue and away from the lingering stares and blinding phone flashes. “Close enough. Come on.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t resist. Not even for a second.

“Sunoo’s going to yell at us,” you muttered, casting a quick glance over your shoulder where the others were already halfway to your table.

You raised a brow but didn’t ask. The way his hand tightened in yours was answer enough.

You let him lead you inside—through the double doors and around the corner, past the bar where laughter echoed and waiters still weaved between tables. He didn’t stop until you were in one of the quieter corridors near the side balcony, where the golden lights dimmed and the noise of the restaurant dulled behind thick velvet curtains.

The moment you stepped outside, the wind caught your hair.

It was warm, a soft breeze carrying the scent of salt and citrus and fresh linen from the tablecloths inside. The ocean was barely visible beyond the courtyard, but you could hear it—soft, steady waves brushing against the edge of the world.

Jay let go of your hand only to step behind you, his arms easily wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, the way his chin gently dropped to rest on your shoulder.

His fingers grazed along the fabric of your skirt, the rings on his hands catching faint moonlight as they curled gently against your sides.

“Sorry for stealing you,” he murmured against your ear.

“You’re not sorry.”

“No, I’m not.”

You smiled softly, arms covering his as you let your head fall back onto his shoulder. “What’s this really about?”

Jay was quiet for a second. Then, voice low and so full of something you couldn’t name just yet, he whispered, “I wanted to see you without the noise. Just you. No lights, no cheers, no cameras. Just… you.”

Your heart jumped.

“You had me,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“I did,” he said. “But I needed you like this.”

You turned in his arms slowly, letting his hands trail from your waist to your back, and finally to your face. His thumb brushed your cheek, the look in his eyes so raw you almost couldn’t hold it.

“You looked divine out there,” he whispered.

“You made me feel like it.”

He leaned in slowly, forehead brushing against yours. “You are.”

You weren’t sure who leaned in first.

Maybe it didn’t matter—because the second your lips met, the world quieted.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t showy or eager or for anyone else’s eyes.

It was slow and soft.

His hand settled behind your head, thumb resting just beneath your ear, while the other wrapped securely around your waist. You could feel every inch of him against you—broad, strong, Alpha—and yet somehow he held you like porcelain.

And then, like a tide rolling in, you felt his scent bloom.

Sandalwood and tequila.

Familiar and calming. Wild and warm. It flooded around you, sweet and musky and comforting, laced with something richer—something unmistakably him. You leaned into it without hesitation, like breathing him in was second nature.

Jay pulled away only slightly, forehead resting against yours. His breath mingled with yours, and for a moment, he didn’t speak—he just smiled. Soft, stunned. Like he still couldn’t believe this was real.

“You smell like me,” he murmured after a beat, lips brushing your skin as he spoke.

You blinked up at him, dazed. “Jay…”

“I—sorry,” he chuckled under his breath. “Didn’t mean to… scent you. At least not now. I just… couldn’t help it.”

You smiled, dizzy and warm. “It’s okay. I like it.”

His eyes searched yours for something. Something unspoken. Something sacred.

And then—

“God, we’re so gross.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I mean, look at us,” he said, half-laughing as he leaned back a bit to really look at you—still in his arms, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen. “Scented. Kiss-drunk. Cuddling on a balcony like we’ve been married ten years.”

You giggled into his chest. “You do realize we’ve only been dating for like… one? Two days?”

“Two,” he corrected, looking far too proud of himself. “And hey, I’m committed. I already lied to the boys and said we talked about ordering more margaritas. That’s basically a legally binding contract.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling. “Great. So when’s the wedding?”

He grinned—slow, easy. Then softened.

“…Dunno. But I already know what your vows would sound like.”

You glanced up at him again, brows lifting. “Oh yeah?”

Jay nodded, pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple. “You’d ramble. Make fun of me halfway through. Probably cry before the end.”

“And you would black out from emotion before the officiant even got to my name.”

He chuckled, and the sound rumbled in your chest. “True.”

You let your eyes flutter shut, letting yourself sink into the quiet. The waves crashed softly below. Somewhere behind the balcony, the muffled bass of music still thudded faintly through the floor. But here, in Jay’s arms, none of it mattered.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever,” he whispered after a moment, voice barely audible over the wind.

You blinked, your gaze meeting his.

Because he had.

Jay had known you for years.

You’d grown up together—shared the same schools, same tutors, same suffocatingly formal family galas and business banquets. You sat at opposite ends of the table, always side-eyeing each other, always pretending to be indifferent. Or annoyed. Or too good to care.

But you did.

God, you both did.

So when he spoke again, there was no trace of hesitation in his voice—only something raw. Honest.

“I know it’s only been two days of… this,” he said, gesturing faintly between you. “But I’ve known you my whole life. I know how you get annoyed when someone doesn’t listen to you. Like really listen. You do this thing with your mouth—like you’re chewing back the urge to scream.”

You huffed a small laugh. You did do that.

“And I know you fix your hair a certain way when we attend board meetings. Always the same twist behind your ear, always neat, because you want them to take you seriously. Because you think they’ll underestimate you otherwise.”

Your breath hitched—because he noticed that?

Jay leaned in, his forehead brushing against yours again, eyes never leaving yours.

“I’ve always noticed.”

He kept going, smiling like he couldn’t stop himself even if he tried. “You do that little dance when you taste something you really like. You bounce a bit, right foot, then left, and your eyes light up like you just discovered magic. You did it in the plane with the mango mousse and I nearly lost my mind.”

You gaped. “I do not dance.”

“You do,” he grinned. “And it’s criminally adorable.”

You buried your face into his chest with a groan as he chuckled and hugged you tighter.

“I know you think this happened too fast,” he murmured, “but tell me this wasn’t always going to happen. Tell me we didn’t always end up here.”

You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to.

The look in your eyes said everything.

Jay smiled softly, fingers brushing against your waist. “The heir of Park Group and the heir of the (L/n) empire—caught scenting each other on a balcony. We’re gonna be tomorrow’s headline.”

You laughed through your nose. “'Childhood rivals turn lovers at tropical summit—wedding bells in sight?'”

He gave you a pointed look. “You just gave the press their title.”

“Think they’ll include how you spun me like a princess on the dance floor?”

Jay tilted his head, smirking. “If they’re lucky.”

You giggled again—then stilled when his expression softened, completely, completely sincere.

“But I don’t care,” he said, thumb sweeping gently along your cheekbone. “About the articles. The attention. The mess. I’d go through all of it. Every headline. Every interrogation. Every legacy war our families throw at us.”

“If it means I get to end up with you, I’d do it again. A hundred times over.”

You didn’t think. You just kissed him.

And this time, it wasn’t just soft. It was sure. Like everything you’d run from was finally something you wanted to run toward. His arms wrapped fully around you, pulling you closer, and his scent—sandalwood and tequila—curled around your senses again, familiar and heady and yours.

“I hated you for so long,” you whispered into the space between his lips. “I thought you were arrogant and reckless and infuriating.”

“I was,” he agreed, smiling. “Still kind of am.”

“And still,” you whispered, brushing your nose against his, “here I am.”

He laughed gently, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Here you are.”

And under the stars, wrapped in his arms, with the scent of him buried into your skin and the sea humming below, you felt something that had never made sense before.

Maybe it was always supposed to be him.

And maybe he’d always known.

Jay pressed one last kiss to the crown of your head. The type that said everything words couldn’t.

“Let’s make them talk,” he murmured against your hair, “Let them write a thousand headlines, start a million rumors. Let them say we’re insane for falling so fast—”

“Let them say we’ve always been in love,” you whispered, smiling up at him. “Because maybe we have.”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, pulling you closer still, like he wanted to imprint the moment into his soul.

The wind swayed gently around you both, soft and salty. The world faded to a low murmur—somewhere behind you, laughter echoed from the beach, glasses clinked, music shifted. But here, with his arms around your waist and your forehead pressed to his chest, everything felt still.

The kind of still that comes after the storm.

The kind of still that feels like peace.

And maybe this was what peace looked like. Not silence, not stillness—but him. Jay. The boy you grew up with. The boy you hated. The man who kissed you like he couldn’t believe you were real. The man who knew you better than anyone ever had.

The one you were no longer afraid to fall into.

“I’m yours, you know,” you said softly, not quite sure where the words came from—but they were true.

Jay looked down at you, eyes shining, no trace of his usual cool arrogance. Just warmth. Just you.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low, “and I’ve always been yours.”

You didn’t need to say anything else.

Not when his fingers slid between yours. Not when you both stood there, pressed close, breathing in the scent of forever. Not when the world buzzed on without you.

Because in that moment, it was just you and him.

Two broken pieces that had finally found where they fit.

And for once in your lives, you didn’t hold back.

⤷ read part 1 here !

taglist: @hoonbrry @hime98 @chae-darling @moonchus @peatchiedii @creamkwan @nyfwyeonjun @whoe-dis @woonie-muffin @caelumsjy @90sni-ki @leiomorea @junjungsunwoo @in-somnias-world @notcamii @yizhoutv @lovesickth @elairah @graythecoffeebean @skyearby @ikeumina @blckorchidd @littlebambi-isdee @immelissaaa @jakesfurry @dreamy-carat @cristy-101 @m1kkso @h4niyahcar @firstclassjaylee @skyearby @hello0i @koizekomi @deluluscenarios @hooniehon @heelovesmeknot @petalsofink

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tinydefector · 2 months ago

Text

Who's portal is that.

DC X DP X Spider-Man

Just a silly little thought I thought of becuase I thought it be fun putting these two together in having to deal with being in gotham city.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: swearing, hints to Constantine being a slut

________________

The night sky over Gotham City was shrouded in heavy clouds, casting the city in an eerie glow. A faint green shimmer flickered in the distance as a figure swung gracefully from rooftop to rooftop, keeping pace with a glowing flying one beside him. Behind them, a dark shadow leapt from gargoyle to gargoyle. The faint whoosh of a grappling hook shot past them.

"Do you mind! not glowing like a freaking neon sign?" Spider-Man hissed, flipping mid-air to avoid a batarang that whizzed past his head. "Excuse me," Danny shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm, " you're swing around in a bright red-and-blue costume like a walking target!"

“First off,” Peter replied, landing on a rooftop and immediately launching himself back into the air, “it’s called branding. Second, this is your fault!” Danny stopped mid-flight to glare at him, hands glowing with ectoplasmic energy. "Oh, sure, because I totally wanted to get sucked into a random vortex that dumped me into this hellscape, of all places! This city's like a goth kid's fever dream!"

"Hey, I’m not judging your aesthetic preferences,” Peter quipped, swinging from building to building, his webbing snapping taut as he narrowly avoided a batarang that embedded itself in the brick beside him. "You know," he called out to the white-haired kid flying beside him, "I feel like you're not appreciating my quick thinking here!"

Danny, glowing faintly with ectoplasmic energy, shot him a glare as he zipped past Spider-Man. "Quick thinking? Are you a complete moron? Who the hell sees a swirling green portal and thinks, ‘Hey, this looks fun! Let’s dive right in!’?" Peter shot a web at a nearby gargoyle and gracefully vaulted over a rooftop. "Okay, in my defense, I thought it was one of Doctor Strange’s portals! You know, the guy with the magic hands? They’re usually pretty safe! Emphasis on usually."

Danny groaned in frustration, narrowly phasing through a fire escape ladder before materializing again. "Well, congratulations, genius. You didn’t just jump into some magic hula hoop!"

“Yeah, because this is so much calmer than my usual Thursdays,” Peter quipped, twisting mid-air. "Besides, if the portals are so dangerous, maybe slap a warning label on them next time, huh? Something like, ‘Danger: Do Not Touch, May Cause Interdimensional Headaches.’ ”

Danny rolled eyes, his frustration mounting as he glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, sure, like I planned for some random spider-themed idiot to get sucked into the summoning mess I got dragged into!. This is totally what I wanted today.”

“Hey, watch it, Casper,” Peter shot back, landing on a rooftop before somersaulting off the edge. "I didn’t exactly ask for this either. One second, I’m swinging through Queens, and the next, I’m in Emo New York’s. Seriously, does no one here believe in streetlights?"

“Don’t call me Casper!” Danny snapped, his glow intensifying as he blasted through an old billboard. “Neither of us want to be in a Tim Burton fever dream!” Peter flipped onto a water tower, perching casually for a moment as he fired a web at a pursuing caped hero, snagging his grappling hook mid-swing. “Hey, I don’t know who Tim Burton is, but I’m gonna assume that was an insult.” He glanced at Danny. “Also, can we talk about your powers? Because I’m ninety-nine percent sure you’re breaking every law of physics I know.”

“Yeah, well, so are your webs!” Danny shot back, “How do they even work? What’s the tensile strength? Are they organic or synthetic? Because if they’re organic, that’s really nasty.” Peter gasped in mock offense. “I’ll have you know my webbing is a marvel of scientific engineering! I made it myself, thank you very much. And it’s not gross—unlike your weird glowing hands. What even is that, radioactive ghost goo?”

______________

Elsewhere…

John Constantine paced rapidly across the creaky wooden floor of a dimly lit room, the flickering glow of candles casting jagged shadows on the walls. His trench coat swayed as he moved, his muttered curses barely audible over the sound of heavy rain pelting the windows. The smell of burnt herbs and incense filled the air, but none of it calmed the rising panic twisting in his gut.

"This is bad. This is really bad," Constantine muttered, running a hand through his disheveled blond hair. His other hand clutched a half-empty flask of whiskey, which he occasionally sipped from between frantic incantations and muttered expletives. "Bloody cultists. Fuckinn idgits. Why can’t anyone leave well enough alone?!"

The summoning circle etched into the floor before him still glowed faintly with green energy, the remnants of whatever dark ritual had taken place before he had managed to intercept it. but he could feel the unmistakable, oppressive energy lingering in the room. It was heavy, suffocating, and distinctly ectoplasmic.

The cult in question had been small, disorganized, and apparently suicidal. They’d tried to summon Pariah Dark, the ruler of the Infinite Realms, a being of unfathomable power and danger. Constantine had assumed they’d fail, as most cults do. But no. Somehow, the idiots had pulled it off. Or at least, partially. The problem was, Constantine had no idea if the ritual had worked as intended. He doubted it. If Pariah had been fully unleashed, Gotham would already be a smoking crater, and Constantine would probably be dead, considering the Ghost King owned a significant chunk of his soul. Still, the energy of the summoning lingered, and Constantine could feel it spreading across Gotham like a thick fog. Something had gone wrong, and that was almost worse than it going right.

"You bloody morons," Constantine hissed, kicking over an empty chair. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Summoning the Ghost King? The fuckin Ghost King?" He paused, taking another swig from his flask as he leaned against the table cluttered with occult books and ritual tools. His fingers drummed against the wood as he thought.

Constantine had dealt with many terrifying beings in his time, but Pariah Dark was one He wished to put behind him and never talk about again. It had taken the combined might of the Realms to imprison him along with Constantine having a small part in distracting the ghost in the first place, and there was no way Constantine or anyone else wanted him walking free.

"Right," Constantine muttered, "Time to call in the cavalry."

---

Wayne Manor - The Batcave

Bruce Wayne was at the Batcomputer, sifting through a series of reports about strange energy spikes across Gotham. The spikes had started a few hours ago, coinciding with sightings of two unusual figures who were dodging his team with surprising skill. One seemed to fly—glow, the other swung through the city with an agility that rivaled even Nightwing’s. Whoever they were, they didn’t belong in Gotham. And Bruce wanted answers.

The comm in his cowl buzzed. Before Alfred’s voice came through. “Master Wayne, you have a rather… agitated call coming through. It’s Constantine.”

Bruce’s fingers paused over the keyboard. “Constantine?”

“Yes, sir,” Alfred replied dryly. “He sounds, as usual, like he’s moments from catastrophe.”

Bruce frowned. Constantine rarely called unless things were dire. “I'll handle it Alfred” He tapped a button on the console, patching the call through. “Constantine,” Batman grunted. “What is it?”

“Bats! About bloody time” Constantine’s voice came through, frantic and hurried. “ Alright, listen to me very carefully, mate, because we’ve got a massive problem on our hands. And by ‘our hands,’ I mean your city.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed. His voice dropping lower “What did you do?.”

Constantine “ i aint done shit!. There was a cult, don’t ask me why, cultists are always bloody morons and they decided to summon the Ghost King.”

“The Ghost King?” Bruce repeated, his voice calm but edged with suspicion. “What is that? Some kind of demon?”

“Worse,” Constantine said. “The Ghost King is the ruler of the Infinite Realms. A proper deity. The kind of being that makes demons piss themselves. His name’s Pariah Dark, and he’s the nastiest ghost you’ll ever meet. World-ending levels of bad. And here’s the kicker: I think the sod’s been unleashed on Gotham.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “If that’s true, why isn’t the city in ruins?”

“I said I think,” Constantine snapped. “Something’s wrong. The energy’s all… off. It’s definitely the Ghost King’s signature, but it’s not as destructive as it should be. That’s the only reason we’re still breathing. But trust me, mate: if he’s here, it’s only a matter of time before things go sideways. Its either His powers have been drained which if that's the case we are on limited time”

Bruce leaned back slightly, his mind racing. “What do you need from me?”

Constantine sighed. “First, I need you to avoid pissing him off. If Pariah Dark’s awake, the last thing you want to do is fight him. Second, I need access to every bit of information you’ve got on what’s been happening in Gotham tonight. Weird sightings, strange energy spikes, anything that looks remotely supernatural.” Bruce’s fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, pulling up data. “There have been reports of two unidentified individuals moving through Gotham. One appears to be glowing. The other swings on some kind of webbing. My team’s been tracking them.”

Constantine groaned. “Bloody brilliant. Bats i could kiss you for being the Paranoid fuck you are, The glowing one. That’s the Ghost King. And if someone’s with him, well, they’re probably just as much of a problem.” Bruce’s voice remained steady. “You’re certain?”

“Of course I’m bloody certain!” Constantine snapped. “I can feel it. The energy’s radiating off him like a bloody beacon. I’d bet my soul on it.” There was a beat of silence. “Oh, wait,” Constantine muttered bitterly. “He already owns part of that.”

Bruce’s hands paused, brows pressing together before he spoke again. “Explain.”

Constantine sighed heavily. “Long story short? I owe the Ghost King a bit of my soul. It’s… complicated. But if he’s here, he might decide to call in that debt. And if he does, I’m royally fucked. That’s why I need to trap him.”

Bruce sits back in his chair with a sigh and he tries to relax into his seat. “And how do you plan to trap him?”

“That’s the tricky bit,” Constantine admitted. “It’s not like trapping a regular ghost or demon. Pariah Dark’s power is off the charts. I’ll need a bloody arsenal of spells, relics, a fuck tone of salt, rosemary, dragons blood, blood blossoms and aloe vera and if you’ve got one lying around a miracle.”

“I don’t deal in miracles,” Bruce said flatly. “But I can help.”

“Well, that’s better than nothing,” Constantine muttered. “Just don’t let your bloody sidekicks get too close to him. If they piss him off, we’re all dead.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “Understood.”

__________

Peter stopped pacing and crossed his arms, giving Danny a look. "You know, you’ve been pretty chill about the whole ‘I’m the king of ghosts, and I got summoned by some random cult’ thing. Is this, like, a normal Tuesday for you?"

Danny snorted. "Look, when you’ve spent the past two years fighting evil ghosts, rogue hunters, and the occasional interdimensional tyrant, this kind of thing doesn’t even crack the top ten weirdest days I’ve had." Peter raised an eyebrow. "Top ten weirdest, huh? That’s impressive. I’m not sure if I should be impressed or concerned."

"Little bit of both," Danny muttered. Peter leaned against a metal pole, watching as Danny’s glow flickered for a moment before dimming again. Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, so, if we’re gonna figure this out, we probably shouldn’t be walking around looking like, well…" He gestured to their costumes. "This."

Danny glanced down at himself, still in his black-and-white ghost suit. "Yeah, you’ve got a point. As much as I hate to admit it, looking like a glow stick might attract the wrong kind of attention." Peter smirked. "Yeah, you’re a little conspicuous. And I’m not exactly subtle in red and blue spandex. But i can get away with saying its a cosplay"

Danny rolled his eyes and stood up, brushing himself off. "Fine. Hang on." He took a deep breath, and in a flash of light, his ghostly suit disappeared, replaced by a simple black T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His white hair and glowing green eyes shifted back to his human appearance black hair and bright blue eyes. He looked younger, smaller, and far less intimidating.

Peter froze, staring at him. "Wait. WHAT?" Danny blinked at him, confused. "What? What’s the big deal?" Peter gestures wildly. "You—you just changed! Like, full-on transformation! You looked older, taller, and now—" He pointed at Danny, his voice higher in disbelief. "Now you look like a teenager."

Danny crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "I am a teenager. I’m sixteen."

Peter’s jaw dropped. "Sixteen?! You’re SIXTEEN?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Danny asked, clearly unimpressed with Peter’s reaction.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. "You’re telling me you’re sixteen, and you’re the king of ghosts. At sixteen, I was just trying to survive high school, and here you are ruling entire dimensions?"

Danny smirked, rather amused at Peter's panic over the situation. "Life comes at you fast, huh?"

Peter groaned, shaking his head and leaning back as he remembered what he had recently been through. "Man, I thought I was stressed out at your age."

Danny shrugged. “You’re not that much older than me"

Peter hesitated, scratching the back of his head. "Well, technically, I’m twenty-two. But thanks to a little thing called the Blip, I kind of skipped five years of my life. So I guess I’m still seventeen in a way? It’s… complicated."

Danny stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "Wow. Okay. So we’re both freaks of time. Good to know." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled $50 bill. "Anyway, I’ve got about fifty bucks on me. Not exactly enough to solve this mess, but it’s something. Wanna get burgers?"

---

Constantine was cursing his luck as he stepped out of a cab in Gotham's East End, his trench coat already soaked from the rain. He could feel the Ghost King’s energy growing fainter, which meant either the being was hiding or his powers were finally stabilizing. Either way, Constantine knew he didn’t have much time. He lit a cigarette and pulled out his phone, dialing Batman again.

"Any updates, Bats?" Constantine asked, taking a long drag. "Because if the Ghost King’s energy gets any more stable, it’ll be nearly impossible to trap him."

Batman’s voice came through, calm and level. "We’ve located an individual matching the energy signals." Constantine let out a sigh of relief. "Good. don’t engage. If you make the wrong move, you could end up pissing him off. And trust me, you don’t want to see this guy pissed."

"I don’t plan on engaging unless it’s necessary," Batman replied. "But if this Ghost King is as dangerous as you say, we need to act quickly." Constantine exhaled a plume of smoke. "Right. Just keep your distance, and I’ll be there soon. We’re gonna need a bloody miracle to pull this off."

When Constantine had finally found Batman they stepped into the abandoned warehouse, the bats cape billowing slightly as he moved through the shadows. Behind him, Constantine followed, cigarette in hand and a look of barely concealed panic on his face. The remnants of ectoplasmic energy still lingered in the air, faint but unmistakable.

“This is it,” Constantine muttered, glancing around the room. “He was here. I can feel it.”

Batman’s sharp eyes swept the area, noting the disturbed dust on the floor and the faint. “They’ve moved on.” Constantine cursed under his breath, flicking ash onto the floor. “Bloody hell. I was hoping we’d catch them before they bolted.”

“They’ll be back,” Batman said, his voice calm and measured as he moves around looking at the slight setup in the corner. “This isn’t a random hideout. They’ll return.”

Constantine raised an eyebrow. “And what makes you so sure, mate?”

Batman glanced at him, his expression unreadable under the cowl. “The boy He’ll need to rest soon, and this place is familiar, they have already scooped it out. They’ll come back.” Constantine sighed. “Alright, fine. But we can’t just sit around twiddling our thumbs. If the Ghost King realizes I’m here, he’s going to come after me. And I don’t fancy another round with him.”

Batman ignored the comment, his mind already working. “We’ll set the trap,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Constantine gave him a skeptical look. “You’re planning on trapping the bloody Ghost King with what, a net? This isn’t some garden-variety ghost, mate. He’s a deity. You’re gonna need more than a fancy grappling hook to take him down. Like i said a fuck tone of Salt” Constantine said grabbing the bag of it he had brought.

“I’m aware,” Batman replied, moving to examine the scorch marks on the floor. “That’s why you’re here. You said you had a plan.” Constantine muttered something under his breath, then reluctantly pulled a small, ornate box from his coat pocket. It was covered in intricate runes, glowing faintly in the dim light. “This,” he said, holding it up, “is a containment box designed to trap spiritual entities. It won’t hold him forever, but it’ll buy us time. If we can get him near it, plus the other stuff I've bought too. It might, just might be enough to contain him long enough so i can make a deal with him or maybe banish him back to the realms”

Batman studied the box for a moment, then nodded. “Set it up. I’ll handle the rest.”

Constantine smirked. “You’re awfully confident for a bloke with no magical experience. Alright, Bats. Let’s hope your preparation is enough to stop an interdimensional ghost king. Because if it’s not, we’re both screwed.”

------

Danny and Peter had bolted from the diner, the stolen burgers clutched tightly in their hands as they tore down the wet streets. The cashier’s shouts faded into the background, drowned out by the sound of their pounding footsteps and the rain slicking the pavement. Peter had been mid-bite when Danny grabbed him by the arm.

“Whoa—hey! I was eating that!” Peter protested, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel and half stuffed with the burger. “Yeah, and you can finish it while we’re not being chased!” Danny snapped, his free hand glowing faintly green as he phased the two of them through a chain-link fence. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Peter huffed, clinging to his burger like it was a lifeline. “I could’ve handled it, you know. escape artist here!” “Right,” Danny muttered, dragging him through an alley. “Because nothing says ‘stealth’ like a guy in red and blue spandex with mustard on his face.”

“Hey—!”

Before Peter could argue further, Danny pulled him into his ghostly form, phasing them through a solid brick wall and into the backstreets. They were invisible and untouchable now, slipping through Gotham’s shadows like ghosts—because, well, one of them was a literal ghost.

“Just get us back to the warehouse,” Peter grumbled, licking ketchup off his hand. “I’m starving, and this burger is the only good thing that’s happened to me all day.”

When Danny phased them back into the warehouse, the first thing Peter noticed was the eerie silence. The second thing he noticed was the faint hum of energy vibrating in the air. His Spider-Sense screamed at him, but before he could say a word, Danny froze mid-step.

The glowing green of Danny’s ghost aura intensified, and in a flash of light, his human form flickered away. In its place stood… something else. Peter’s jaw dropped as he stumbled back, clinging to his half eaten burger. Danny or whoever this was didn’t look like the snarky teenager he’d been running around with. This was something entirely otherworldly.

Danny’s form was taller now, his presence almost overwhelming. His white hair glimmered like freshly fallen snow, cascading down to his shoulders, and his eyes burned an unearthly, glowing green, deeper and more intense than before. An ice-like crown floated just above his head along with the floating aurora shimmering, while a cape of flickering starlight billowed behind him, even though there was no wind. His pale skin seemed to glow softly, and across his cheeks and arms were faint freckles that looked like constellations.

He didn’t look evil. If anything, he looked eternal. Ancient. Like something out of a fantasy novel, the kind of being that could step off the cover of a book as a god or a king. But Danny didn’t seem to notice or care. His glowing form flickered slightly as his eyes dropped to the burger that had been in his hands, landing unceremoniously on the floor inside the glowing summoning circle that now caged him.

“No…” Danny whispered, his voice reverberating unnaturally, as if layered with echoes from another world. His gaze locked onto the destroyed burger, his expression a mix of disbelief and betrayal. “No, not the burger.” He dropped to his knees, staring mournfully at the fallen burger. “I was so hungry,” he moaned, his voice still layered with that eternal echo. “It was right there. I could taste it.”

The Dark Knight’s imposing figure emerged from the darkness, his cape sweeping behind him as he approached the summoning circle. Constantine followed close behind, looking both impressed and deeply concerned by the glowing, ethereal figure trapped in the sigils. “Bloody hell,” Constantine muttered, staring at Danny. “That’s him. That’s the Ghost King.”

“Excuse me?” Peter growled, his voice rising with agitation. His Spider-Sense was still buzzing like mad, and the fact that Danny was trapped in some kind of magical cage was making his blood boil. “You did this? You trapped him?” Batman’s piercing gaze shifted to Peter, who was still clutching his burger like a feral dog protecting its last meal. Peter stepped in front of the glowing circle as if to shield Danny. “He’s not dangerous! He’s just a kid!”

Constantine snorted. “A kid? That thing in there’s no kid, mate. That’s the Ghost King. Ruler of the Infinite Realms. A being with enough power to wipe this city off the map if he wanted to.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed, Before Constantine or Batman could react, Peter crouched low, his body tensing like a spring. His mask was still off, and his expression was fierce, like a wild animal protecting its territory. He lunged forward, aiming a web at Constantine.

“Oi, what the hell—” Constantine yelped as he rolls to get away from the web. Peter didn’t stop there. He fired another web at the edge of the summoning circle, trying to disrupt the sigils. The glowing lines sparked as his webbing hit them, but they held firm.

“Stop,” Batman growled, stepping forward. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”

“Neither do you,” Peter snapped, flipping backward to avoid Batman’s outstretched hand. Constantine groaned, rubbing his temples. “Bloody hell, kid’s gone feral.”

The warehouse was a mess. Peter had put up a valiant fight, but, as he quickly learned, going toe-to-toe with Batman wasn’t exactly a winning strategy. He was now webbed and tied to a metal support beam, arms crossed and glaring at the Dark Knight, who stood nearby with the stoic calm of someone who had done this a thousand times before. Constantine was in front of Danny, cigarette in hand. "Hello, Pariah," Constantine said lightly, exhaling smoke. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it, like a man trying to act calm in front of a tiger. "Nice skin. Little young for you, though, innit?"

Danny froze, his glowing eyes snapping up to fix on Constantine. For a moment, he just stared, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, his gaze drifted over Constantine, taking in the trench coat, the cigarette, the smug smirk. And then Danny's face twisted into an expression of pure, genuine offense.

"Wait a minute," Danny said, his voice echoing slightly with that otherworldly tone. He pointed a glowing hand at Constantine, his eyes narrowing like he was trying to place a face to a name. "Are you... the Soul Whore guy?"

The room went silent. Even Batman raised an eyebrow.

Constantine blinked, his cigarette frozen halfway to his lips. "You know, the guy who goes around selling bits of his soul to anyone with a checkbook and a half-decent sales pitch? You’re kind of infamous in the Infinite Realms. Everyone’s heard of you." He tilted his head, his expression growing even more incredulous. "I mean, we all knew you were a mess, but I didn’t think you were is much of a mess."

Constantine stared at him, his mouth working like he was trying to come up with a response but couldn’t quite form the words. Peter, still tied up, looked between them with wide, confused eyes.

"Wait, wait, wait," Peter said, his voice cutting into the silence. "What do you mean, 'Soul Whore'? He looks like if Mr Strange ended up homeless!" Danny ignored him, his glowing eyes narrowing further as he seemed to piece something together. His jaw dropped suddenly, and he took a step closer to the edge of the circle. "No way. You’re that dumbass, the one who slept with Pariah Dark. Aren’t you?"

Constantine froze. His cigarette fell from his lips, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint crackle of the summoning circle’s magic. Peter’s jaw dropped. "WHAT?!" Danny threw his hands up, his glowing aura flaring slightly. "Holy crap, it is you! You’re the guy who hooked up with Pariah Dark and put him in the Sarcophagus! I thought that was just a rumor."

Constantine’s face paled, his usual cocky demeanor evaporating as he raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Alright, now hold on a second—"

"He slept with the ghost king you fought and won against?!" Peter shouted, his voice rising with disbelief. "Are you serious?! He’s serious, isn’t he?!" He turned to Batman, who, to his credit, looked as stoic as ever.

Danny, meanwhile, looked like he was having the time of his life. He crossed his arms, grinning like a cat who had just caught a particularly juicy mouse. "You know, I heard the stories, but I didn’t actually think it was true!"

"It was—look, it’s complicated, alright? It wasn’t my bloody fault!" Constantine tries to defend himself forgetting for a moment that this was the Ghost King he had trapped. Danny snorted. "Sure it wasn’t. That explains why half the ghosts in the Realms call you 'the Soul Whore.' You’ve got a reputation, dude. And not a good one."

Constantine groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Christ, I need a drink." This wasn’t Pariah Dark. This was something else. And whatever it was, it wasn’t bound by the same rules.

And that terrified Constantine.

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