Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mingi knew in his bones that he was meant to be a protector. 

At first he’d used that as a fantasy, a mechanism to endure. He’d fall asleep envisioning himself someplace else, defending someone he cared about, someone that cared about him. And then the dream devolved into just protecting anybody, even a stranger. And its last iteration focused on a reality where he was able to protect himself. Maybe not physically, he knew better than to wish for that. But mentally. To even dare think opposite of what they told him, to have the emotional fortitude to stand up for himself, even just quietly. 

Now, though? Most days he was too exhausted to entertain such nonsense. 

Especially on days like today. Fighting days. 

A loud bang on his door signaled dinner. They fed them in the mess hall usually, but on fighting days everyone stayed separate. Too much tension under everyone’s skin, too much anticipation. Better to save all that for the ring, send them out fresh and raring to go. That was the idea, anyways. 

Mingi moved quietly to receive the plate of food, sat criss-cross on the floor to eat. The restless feeling had long since fizzled out. This was just another day, now. The only significance was the extra portion, a generous bowl of rice and a thin broth with a hunk of meat in it. He ate with his hands. 

Afterwards he began his warmup. Stretching, first. A few body weight exercises, just enough to feel limber. Anything to give him an edge in the ring, anything to recover better tomorrow. If there even was a tomorrow, of course. 

Afterwards he stripped down to his pair of worn out fighting shorts. They’d once been a fine red silk, the sort boxers wore on tv. But now months of blood and sweat and dirt had ruined them, had made them unrecognizable no matter how hard he tried to wash them out. Once a long time ago Handler said he’d get a new pair after he won his fiftieth fight. Though Mingi wasn’t sure how many fights he’d had, nor how many he won. Because even the victories left him dazed, his vision swimming, his brain struggling to remember who he was, let alone his stats. 

He sat on the edge of his mattress to wait. It didn’t matter how many there’d been. He had a feeling Handler had forgotten about that promise, anyways. 

They’d come for him, soon. Any minute, by his own internal clock. He yearned for it to be over with, to be returned here so he could tend to his wounds and sleep the horror of it all away. But in order to get there, to the other side, he would have to endure. 

He just… He didn’t like hurting people. 

Mingi lowered his cheek down onto his shoulder, the skin a little cool, and rubbed best he could. He hadn’t smelled like himself in a long time, not since he was a little kid. But something about trying to scent himself was still comforting; awoke some blurry long-gone memory from when he was small. 

Another bang to his door. He could envision Handler kicking at it with his steel-toed boots. 

Mingi didn’t need to be told what to do. He moved automatically, knelt in the center of the room and pressed his forehead to the floor, held his arms awkwardly behind him. For a moment he held position, muscles already straining from the discomfort, a low whine building in his throat. But then a familiar set of cuffs were secured around his wrists, and a hand gripped him by the back of his neck. They yanked him up to his feet, pushed him towards the door. 

For a moment they paused in the hall, because once Mingi was put in his holding pen he would remain there alone until it was his time. Handler leaned in close, murmured just beside his ear. “You feeling good tonight?”

Mingi dropped his head and nodded. He did not talk anymore. Wasn’t even sure if he knew how. 

“Good boy.” Handler slapped his shoulder. “I got money on you.”

♡

This was the last place Wooyoung was meant to be. That was what made it so fun. 

“It’s okay.” He jabbed his elbow into Yunho’s side, earning himself a sharp glare. “Alpha will keep you safe.”

Yunho rolled his eyes, pushed his hand away. It was ironic, because Wooyoung was a full head shorter than he was. “Hongjoong’s gonna kill us.”

Wooyoung shrugged. In his gut he knew it was true. Keeping secrets from the pack only went so well, especially considering how terribly guilty Yunho already looked. But he’d decided already that it was worth getting scolded or punished if it meant feeling a little thrill, seeing something he couldn’t find anywhere else. Real, honest to god fighting. Not the doctored shit on tv, where the outcome was bought before hand and they pulled their punches. No, this was the real deal. The best fighters going at it in the ring. Cutthroat. 

“It’s inhumane,” Yunho said, like he could read Wooyoung’s thoughts.

“Eh.” Wooyoung took a swig from the beer he’d bought at the run down concession stand. He hated beer, but it’d fit the atmosphere. “They probably make so much money off it.”

Yunho scoffed, folded his arms over his chest. “No amount of money should justify getting braincells beat out of you.”

“You can wait in the car, you know.”

“And leave you?” Yunho shook his head. “You’d somehow end up in the ring. I’m staying.”

The lights dimmed, and the previously raucous audience fell quiet in tandem. The ring was little more than a dirt circle dug out at the center of the room, the audience crowded around. Standing room only, though the rickety wooden risers gave an illusion of stadium seating. Still, Wooyoung guessed there couldn’t have been more than a thousand people in attendance. Invitation only. Very hush hush. The only reason Wooyoung even knew about this place was because a coworker had connections. 

He should’ve come alone, left Yunho out of it. But, truthfully, it’d intimidated him. He was small for an alpha, petite, and unaccustomed to holding his own. Maybe bringing an omega with for protection would be considered pathetic to some, but said omega was bigger than most alphas, so Wooyoung thought it was okay. 

The first fight began, two female alphas. They started in a boxing style, but by the end of it they were full out wrestling, tangled up in the dirt, teeth barred. Wooyoung pressed up on his tiptoes to whisper to Yunho. “Bet you blue shorts wins.”

Yunho frowned. “I’m not betting on this.”

“Bet you a whole week of doing your laundry.”

That got his attention. His brow furrowed. “Clearly red is pacing themselves better. Deal.”

Sure enough, red won.

They kept at it. Exchanging petty chores and promises, until even Yunho was watching with a bit of interest, even cheering when his chosen side won. Wooyoung couldn’t help but feel a little smug. It wasn’t the horrible, unethical thing Yunho insisted it was. No one was dying. Everyone walked out just fine. And judging by the people around him, the numbers he heard tossed around, the fighters would all be going home with a hefty sum tonight. 

No harm, no foul. 

The MC announced the final fight of the night, which elicited a few boos. 

“My money’s on the pretty one,” Yunho said. “And by money I mean I’ll scoop Posy’s box.”

“Deal,” Wooyoung said. He craned to see the fighters better. “Which ones the pretty one, though?”

“The big guy. Obviously.”

Wooyoung squinted, unsure what Yunho saw that he didn’t. The big one wasn’t ugly, he supposed.  Black hair pulled half up into a ponytail, his skin toned and scarred. But all the fighters were so brutish, so aggressive. Calling any of them pretty felt like a joke. 

Especially when the big guy took his first swing, the punch audibly cracking across his opponent’s chin. He commanded the entire fight, never letting the other have a moment to collect themselves, to recover. Just ruthless punches every chance he got. 

Wooyoung knew that even just one of those would’ve knocked him out. Judging by Yunho’s dropped jaw, he was thinking the same thing.

The opponent tried, they landed a few blows, though none seemed to even phase the big one. He just kept moving, machine-like in his determination. The fight barely lasted a few minutes before the one in blue was on the ground, blood spluttering out past their lips. The bell sounded.

The crowd began to disperse, looking to collect, but Yunho pushed forward. “I wanna tell him good job,” he said. “He’s so…”

Wooyoung didn’t hear the rest of it, but followed wordlessly. Clearly, Yunho had a little crush. 

It took some effort to push through the crowd, but after a moment they made it to the front barrier, now just a few steps from the ring. 

“Hey,” Yunho called. The figher was still there, now knelt before his opponent, one hand at their throat feeling for a pulse. He looked up at the sound of Yunho’s voice, his eyes wide, head tipped to one side in question. Yunho waved. “Are they okay?”

Wooyoung wanted to crumple up in embarrassment. Clearly, they weren’t. Hopefully the medic would be out any moment, though.

The fighter looked behind him, towards the door he’d come from, and then back to Yunho. He opened his mouth, maybe to speak, but then shut it again. 

Two workers emerged and ran to the body, they did a quick assessment and then hoisted them up, carried them away. The fighter took one hesitant step towards them, but one of the workers yelled for him to back off, and he did. 

Then he glanced towards Yunho again. There was a smear of blood under his nose, both fists were split open and bleeding. The red shorts he wore hadn’t been clean to start with, but now they were caked in a fresh layer of grime. All in all, the guy looked in desperate need of a shower and a good meal. 

He took a step closer to them. 

Yunho waved again, urging him on. “Just want to say hi,” he said. “You’re amazing.”

The fighter’s expression twisted, his brows furrowed. But he continued on over, taking slow, careful steps through the dirt. Again he opened his mouth. And now, only a few paces away, Wooyoung could hear him make an odd, throaty sound. Almost like a growl, but without any heat behind it. 

He’s shy, Wooyoung realized. And he couldn’t help but smile a little. “How long have you been fighting?” he asked, leaning against the barrier. “Where’d you learn?”

The fighter gave a tiny shrug, hands clasped before him, squeezing anxiously despite the oozing blood from his knuckles. He looked over his shoulder before taking another step. In arm’s reach, now. 

Yunho put a hand out. “I’m Yunho.”

For a moment the fighter just stared, as if unsure what to do. But then, slowly, he reached a trembling hand out.

“Mingi!” The fighter recoiled, backed away a few steps, head ducked down low. A man stepped into the ring, face red with anger, and stalked over to them. He grabbed the fighter — Mingi — by the back of his neck and yanked him another step away. “What’d I tell you?” He shook him hard. “Hm?” 

“Sorry,” Wooyoung quickly said. “We just wanted to say hi, talk to him for a minute.”

“Talk to him?” The man surveyed them with a sneer, and then looked Mingi up and down. Mingi had practically folded in on himself, shoulders hunched, chin pressed to his chest. “It’s two million won to talk to him.” 

“What?” Wooyoung stopped himself, the pieces clicking into place. “No, we don’t—”

“Then he’s not available.” With that the man turned, Mingi in tow beside him. 

For a moment they stood at the barrier, dumbfounded as they watched the door slam shut behind Mingi and that vile man. 

“What the fuck?” Wooyoung looked up, needing confirmation that this was all as horrible as he suspected. “Was he..?”

Yunho nodded, his face pale. “Two million won to, to—” He couldn’t get it out. 

“Like he’s for sale. Like—” Wooyoung hugged himself, all at once cold. “Let’s go home. I— Sorry I made you come here.” 

“No.” Yunho gave one last look towards the ring, the little splatters of blood in the dirt. “Don’t be.” 

♡

On days he didn’t fight Handler trained him from morning until dinner time. He didn’t know the actual times, because they didn’t let him outside much, but his body kept track best it could. 

Originally, when he’d first come here, he’d worked with a handful of the other fighters. But since then Mingi had proven to be one of the strongest, most consistent, the most profitable. So now the Handler worked with him one on one. 

“Last night was all right,” Handler said. He was taping his fists as he talked, their usual routine. They’d debrief, go over what Mingi could’ve done better, and then start his conditioning. “Too quick, though.”

Mingi nodded. He knew they preferred when he took a few hits, when he even let himself get knocked down. Made for a better show that way. A clean knockout was fun sometimes, but overall the audience liked a struggle. Next time he’d have to give them a show. Even though he hated it. The yelling, the bright lights, the sickening feeling of someone’s face under his fist. 

“Hey.” Handler smacked him upside the head, just hard enough to startle him. “You hear me?”

Mingi nodded again, harder. 

“And what the fuck were you doing afterwards? You aren’t allowed to talk to anyone, you know that.”

Mingi looked away, ashamed. It was true, if anyone was interested in buying him they went through his Handler. No one talked to him, no one even looked at him. Not really.

He wasn’t sure what had come over him, but those two men at the barrier, their smiles, their compliments... Didn’t they realize what he was? Asking him where he’d learned to fight… Like this was something he’d trained in school to do. 

Regardless, for a moment he’d liked their attention. Because they hadn’t looked at him like prey the way the others did. Because all the others saw was a tough alpha they either wanted to bet on or force into submission, but these two had acted like he was a person. Like they really did just want to talk.

He suppressed a flinch, remembering all at once that he couldn’t even do something simple as that. Couldn’t even talk right. And then he remembered the way their faces had fallen when Handler had said his price. Disgust. Because now they knew he wasn’t anything more than a whore.

“Warm up. Go.” 

Mingi rose to his feet, began going through the motions. He just wanted the day over so he could lie in his little bed again. Because, even though the daydreams of a better life had stopped, he could at least enjoy the silence. 

♡

They returned two weeks later, this time at Yunho’s insistence. 

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” he said. “I’m worried.”

They’d lied about their destination again, this time feigning some art class. Wooyoung was pretty certain no one would bother looking it up. Regardless, there was a pit in his stomach. Last time had felt fun and mischievous, and he’d known being caught would’ve gotten him in a little trouble, but nothing he couldn’t handle. But this time? Now they’d caught a glimpse of the ring’s dark underbelly. It wasn’t just a bit of fun outside the law. Clearly, terrible things were being done to Mingi. He’d been too afraid to even speak to them. 

If Seonghwa knew they were doing this, putting themselves in danger…

Wooyoung sighed, his temple pressed against the cold car window. “What part of seeing him fight again will make you less worried?”

Yunho shook his head, reached down and patted the crossbody bag he wore. “Not just gonna see him.”

Wooyoung sat up. “You didn’t.” 

“I did.”

A rush of affection swirled in Wooyoung’s belly, and he had to resist crawling across the center console and nuzzling him right then and there. Their beloved Yunho, the gentle giant. With his subtle, sugar cookie scent and gentle smile… “I underestimated you.”

Yunho hummed out an answer, clearly pleased. “I figured if we could get him alone, maybe… I don’t know.”

“Convince him to leave?”

“Hopefully something like that.” 

“And then what?” Wooyoung wasn’t sure how the pack would react if they came home with a new alpha, especially one from a fighting ring. 

“I don’t know.” Clearly, Yunho was thinking the same thing. “I guess we’ll just see what happens.” 

The night moved along the same way it had before, though this time without their little bets and jabs at one another. It wasn’t so fun anymore, now that they had a glimpse of how the fighters were treated. Instead they just held a spot at the barrier and watched, stony faced, as they waited to see if Mingi would be fighting. 

Sure enough, he was the top billed once again. He emerged in the same pair of filthy red shorts, his hair pulled away from his face. The bell sounded, and Wooyoung reached over for Yunho’s hand, clasped it tightly in his. 

This fight was not so easy as the last, and from the beginning it was clear Mingi was struggling. He took more hits than he gave, even stumbled back and fell on his ass at one point, earning him a brutal kick to the stomach. 

Yunho’s hand went white around Wooyoung’s and he inhaled sharply with every impact. Wooyoung wasn’t totally sure what it was Yunho saw in the fighter, but he was certain it went beyond standard empathy. Some connection, maybe. Something. Because he’d never seen Yunho pull money from his precious savings for anyone outside the pack.

Mingi pushed himself up onto all fours, spat out a mouthful of blood, just before another kick caught him in the ribs. The crowd gasped, then cheered. What had felt like fun last time now made Wooyoung sick. Did these people know how he was treated here? Did they care? 

The opponent tried another kick, but Mingi caught them by the ankle and yanked them to the ground. Now on an even playing field, he dragged them closer, reared his fist back, and brought it down hard into the center of their face. Their nose crunched with a gush of blood, their body twitched. Another blow and they quit moving. The crowd roared. 

Wooyoung turned his face away, pressed against Yunho’s shoulder, and inhaled deeply. His stomach rolled, the sweet smell doing little against the stench of sweat and blood. “It’s okay,” Yunho murmured, his hand moving to Wooyoung’s hair. “All over now.”

He nodded, forced himself to look back. But he hated what he saw. Mingi on his knees, chest heaving, his skin reddened and angry looking from where he’d been kicked. His eye was swelling fast, and his lip was split open. Slowly, he began unwrapping the tape around his fists as others hauled his incapacitated opponent away. 

“Come on.” In one smooth motion Yunho hopped the barrier, strode over to Mingi right as that horrible man from last time arrived, as well. Wooyoung hurried to catch up. 

Mingi’s eyes blew wide at the sight of them, and he started to rise to his feet before the man shoved him back down. He stayed there. 

“Two million won,” Yunho said. He already had his wallet out, cash ready to go. “Right?” 

The man frowned, sizing them up. “Never seen an omega buy an alpha like this.”

Yunho’s ears reddened. It was untraditional. Male omegas were a bit rare, often heavily pursued or even harassed. Most of them kept a careful distance from strange alphas they didn’t know. 

Wooyoung stepped forward into the conversation. “We’re sharing,” he explained. 

That made the man chuckle, though he reached out and took the money, began counting. “All right,” he said, pocketing it. “Yours until sunrise. Marks are fine, but nothing that’ll interfere with training.” He gave Wooyoung a pointed look, raised a finger for emphasis. “And if he knocks your bitch up it ain’t our business. Got it?”

Wooyoung swallowed. The words tasted like bile in his mouth. “Got it.” 

With that the man cast one final look down at Mingi, whose eyes were firmly on the ground beneath him. “Have fun, then. He knows where to take you.” And he left. 

For a moment the three of them remained there, the room quieting as the crowd filtered out. 

“Mingi,” Yunho said. His voice was gentle, like he was approaching a wounded animal. “Are you okay?”

Mingi managed a nod. Then, slowly, and with a clear amount of pain in his expression, he pushed up onto his feet. He wouldn’t look at them. Merely gestured they follow him and began walking that way. His gait was slow, careful. One arm wrapped protectively around his ribs. 

Yunho opened his mouth to speak but Wooyoung stopped him, gave a small shake of his head. Better they get somewhere quiet, private, and then assess the damage.

Mingi took them down a dingy hallway, then into a small room with a lamp, a queen sized bed, and an ensuite bathroom. They shut the door behind them. Mingi clearly knew the drill. He gestured for them to sit and then disappeared into the bathroom. A second later and they heard a shower run. 

“What now?” Wooyoung whispered. “He hasn’t said a thing, I don’t—”

“Well yeah, he thinks we just paid to fuck him.” Yunho pushed both hands up into his hair, began to pace the length of the room. “Oh my god.” 

“We’ll explain once he comes back.” Wooyoung reached for him, wishing he’d settle down. “Relax.”

Yunho sat beside him on the bed and buried his face into his hands. His shoulders shook just barely, though when he emerged his expression had steadied. “Okay,” he said. “It’s—”

A creak in the floor alerted them of Mingi’s return. He stood at the foot of the bed, hair damp, with a towel around his waist. Still, he avoided their eyes, instead looking at the floor. He chewed his bottom lip, the split bleeding again. 

This felt so surreal. In the ring he’d been ruthless, violent, a force to be reckoned with. But right now he just looked small, defeated. Slowly, his hand moved to undo the towel. 

“Wait,” Yunho said quickly. “We don’t want to…do that.”

At last, Mingi looked up, obviously confused. But the towel stayed, so that was a relief. 

“Come sit,” Wooyoung said. He patted a spot on the bed. “We just want to talk with you.”

Mingi blinked, his breath picking up just slightly. His side and stomach were beginning to color into bruises, and the hot shower made old marks stand out again. Scars on his stomach, chest. Old fighting injuries, likely. One even had to be stitched up, by the looks of it. 

And then, obedient in a way so few alphas of his stature should be, he joined them on the bed. 

“Mingi,” Yunho began softly. “Are you safe here?”

Immediately, he nodded. 

“You want to be here?” Wooyoung clarified. “You want to fight?”

Again, he nodded, studying his hands in his lap as he twisted his fingers together. 

“Can you talk to us?” Yunho’s voice was like butter, so nurturing and inherently omega that even Wooyoung felt woozy. “We want to help.”

Mingi shook his head. 

“I get if you don’t want—” 

Another head shake. This time he opened his mouth, and a gravelly, strained sound came from his throat. He coughed and then tried again, this time with a bit more success. One word made its way out, though it was strained and barely coherent. “Can’t.” 

Wooyoung met Yunho’s eyes. Clearly, this was going to be a lot harder than they’d anticipated. 

“Mingi,” Yunho said again. He reached out, offered his hand. Mingi stared at it but made no moves to accept the touch. “Please. They shouldn’t be allowed to do this to you, to treat you like this. We could help, we have connections. We could get you out.”

Mingi shook his head. 

“I know it’s scary.” Yunho slipped off the bed onto his knees, kneeling before Mingi, hands trembling an inch away from his. “But you don’t have to live here. Just tell us. Do you really want this? To be here?”

This time he did not nod, did not react at all. Just stared blankly down at the man before him. And then, very slowly, he picked up one of Yunho’s hands and lifted it to his nose, gave his wrist a delicate sniff. For a moment he stayed there, eyes closed, inhaling deeply. 

It felt like a yes. Maybe Wooyoung was jumping to conclusions, but it really did feel like a yes. 

Then Mingi dropped his hand, made a writing motion in the air. Wooyoung nodded. He didn’t have any paper, so he opened the notes app on his phone and handed it over. He and Yunho watched with baited breath as he typed. 

But when the phone was returned it wasn’t the news he’d hoped for. 

      They won’t let me go. I make too much money. But thank you anyways. 

Yunho stood. “Then we’ll break you out.”

Mingi took the phone back, unaffected by the bold words. 

       I’ve tried before. Not worth it. Would you like to fuck me now? 

Wooyoung’s breath hitched and he turned his face away to compose himself. The last thing Mingi needed was to see his tears. Still, even if Mingi had no hope, that didn’t mean they would give up so easily. 

It just meant they’d have to bite the bullet and tell Hongjoong.

Chapter Text

Mingi wished kind people would stay away from him.

It was easier not to get his hopes up, not to pretend what he wanted mattered at all. 

It’d happened before. People giving him false promises, saying they’d help him, saying they cared about him. But it never went anywhere, not when they realized how tightly this place held onto him, how badly damaged he had become from it. Their fantasies of him fell away, crumbled by reality. Because he was not the fighter from the ring, at least not all the time. And that was usually the version they wanted. 

Still, though. He thought Yunho and Wooyoung were nice. And he could appreciate that. 

But it’d be best for all of them if they stayed away from him.

“You tell them anything?” Handler had a fist in Mingi’s hair, used it to hold his head up and force eye contact. “Huh? What’d you write down?”

Mingi shook his head. Nothing, he wanted to say. He’d only told them not to bother with him, that he couldn’t be saved. But the mics they had in the rental rooms couldn’t pick that up, nor could they pick up his frantic head shaking. All it’d caught was those two strangers urging him to run away. 

It made him look guilty. 

Handler slapped him across the face. “I know you can talk.” 

Mingi whined, his instincts going haywire. His body, the primal parts of him, never understood this. Why someone he could’ve easily bested in a fight was allowed to hurt him, why he had to just stifle his alpha down and take it. But he managed. Let himself be struck, let Handler yell at him, demand he speak. Because it was easier this way. He knew that by now. This place had been far more difficult to bear when he’d fought back, when he’d tried to escape, when he’d yelled and screamed. 

“You fucking disgust me.” Handler shoved him away and took a step back, stared at Mingi on the floor. Disgust was too gentle a word for the loathing in his eyes. 

Mingi shifted onto his knees in a show of submission, dropped his head down, clasped his hands together. That was the only way to stop them from shaking. 

Handler sighed. “You’re pathetic. You really didn’t tell them anything? Agree to anything?”

Mingi nodded his head. 

“And they really didn’t fuck you after that?”

He nodded again. He was confused, too. He’d never met someone willing to pay two million won just for a conversation. But even when they could’ve had him, when he’d offered himself up, they’d chosen to leave. Selfishly, it’d disappointed him a little. At this point he was numb to sex, so closed off from his own body that he went totally distant during it. Regardless, he’d liked the way the tall one, Yunho, smelled. Sugary. Like vanilla. The sort of sweetness he hadn’t had since he was a little kid. He wouldn’t have minded enduring sex just so he could go on smelling that scent for a bit longer. 

Handler sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he said. “Take the day off.”

Mingi perked up. He’d never expected that, not after Handler had been so angry with him. He’d assumed today would be full of extra hard conditioning, the rest he’d earned from his win cancelled out by his assumed betrayal. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Handler waved him away. “You look like shit.” 

Mingi knelt down further in a thank you and then hurriedly stood, needing to get back to his room before Handler changed his mind. 

Days off were few and far between, typically only granted after a particularly good win. So to have one now, with his cheek still burning from the slap, was unheard of. Maybe Handler had taken pity on him. 

Either way, Mingi retreated back to his room, shut the door firmly behind him. There wasn’t a lock from the inside, but no one was locking it from the outside right now, either. So that was enough. 

He curled up in bed, bunched his blanket up and held it to his chest. A whole day to himself… He’d spend most of it sleeping, trying to speed up his body’s recovery. But he’d try and find time to read, too. He only had a handful of paperbacks, all gifted from Handler as rewards for winning. He’d practically memorized them at this point, but that was okay. They were like old friends. Comforting and familiar. 

The only friends he had, right now. Likely the only ones he’d ever have. 

Against his better judgment, Yunho and Wooyoung crept back into his mind. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Yunho’s smell. It was only a memory, though. No matter how vivid he tried to make it. 

He wondered if they meant it. All that talk about breaking him out. A quiet part of him wanted to believe so, that they were somehow bigger than the Handler and the fighting ring. That they actually had connections strong enough to free him from this place. But wishing for that was akin to wishing for the moon. 

Besides, he told himself. Who knows what they’d do to me once I was out. 

Because no matter how kind they seemed, no matter how good that omega smelled, Mingi had learned a long time ago that he would only ever be wanted if he was useful. And as much as he hated this place, the unknown uses they might have for him in the real world scared him even more. 

♡

“Let me get this right.” Hongjoong pushed his laptop aside, leaned both elbows onto his desk. His expression was an awful mix between amusement and suppressed anger, bouncing between the two like he couldn’t quite decide. “You went to an illegal fighting ring. Twice.”

Yunho avoided his eyes. He didn’t regret it — of course he didn’t. But letting Hongjoong down caused a special sort of sting. Especially as one of the oldest, one of the more responsible ones. It was one thing for Wooyoung to get into trouble, that was just any given Tuesday, but Yunho was supposed to be better. 

“It wasn’t dangerous,” Wooyoung said. But it was a pretty half-baked excuse for something with the words illegal and fighting in its name.

Hongjoong pushed his glasses further up his nose. “Yunho? Really? This worked on you?”

“He would’ve gone with or without me,” Yunho said quietly. They sat side by side on the loveseat in Hongjoong’s office. Coming forward hadn’t been easy, but they’d both agreed that the Mingi situation was beyond them. “I wanted to keep an eye on him.”

“Why didn’t you tell someone?” Seonghwa lingered a few paces behind the desk, his frame tight with stress, his expression pinched. “Something could’ve happened to you two, someone could’ve—”

“They’re okay, Star.” 

“Somehow!” Seonghwa turned away to face the window, like he couldn’t bear to see them anymore. 

Yunho shrunk down a little. “But,” he said slowly, “we met someone.”

Hongjoong huffed out a little laugh. “You met someone.”

“A fighter. Mingi.” Wooyoung sat up, his face brightening for the first time since this conversation had begun. “He’s an alpha, and they’re treating him terribly. They’re forcing him to fight, they’re—”

“It’s an illegal operation,” Hongjoong chided. “It’s not going to have good ethics.”

“But—”

“Can we focus back on what happened, here?” Hongjoong sighed. “You both lied. To all of us. Went someplace where you could’ve gotten hurt. This… Yunho, really?”

Yunho dropped his gaze, face hot. 

But Wooyoung persisted. “You can smack me later — you don’t get it. They’re selling him, hurting him. Like he isn’t even a person. He won’t talk, he won’t look anyone in the eye. He’s only our age —  we need to help him.” 

“The alpha?” Hongjoong looked back to gauge Seonghwa’s reaction to this. “What are you saying? You want to..?”

“Break him out,” Yunho supplied. “Or buy him out. I’m not sure.” 

“A stranger.” Seonghwa turned back, unable to remain removed from this conversation. “You want some random alpha in our house? What are you talking about?”

“He isn’t dangerous,” Yunho said. Maybe he didn't know that for certain, but he’d looked into Mingi’s eyes, touched his hand. Outside of the ring he was no threat. He was only young, broken, and terribly afraid. And something in Yunho’s chest had squeezed the moment he’d laid eyes on him. Like the two of them should’ve met a long time ago, like their paths had been running parallel for ages, only waiting to intersect. 

Seonghwa wasn’t having it. “He’s a fighter. Sounds dangerous to me.”

“You don’t get it,” Yunho insisted. He was beginning to sound like Wooyoung, coming up with excuses to try and get out of a punishment. But this wasn’t that. He didn’t care if Hongjoong grounded them or bent them across the desk. He just needed him to understand that this was serious, and that something had to be done. “I think he’s… I think he’s meant to be my mate.”

Even Wooyoung looked shocked at that one. 

Hongjoong’s expression softened. “What makes you say that?” 

Yunho looked away, all at once shy. It’d taken him a long time to be vulnerable with the pack, a long time to even tell them he loved them. Emotions were difficult, sometimes. And sometimes being out of touch with that side of himself made him feel like a broken omega. But when he’d seen Mingi, when he’d held his hands, when his wrist had been pressed to his nose… “I could feel something. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Seonghwa crossed the room, slid into the spot beside Yunho, a comforting hand already rubbing across his back. “Oh, darling.” 

Hongjoong sighed, buried his face in his hands for a moment, and then emerged with a set jaw. “All right, fine. You don’t ask for much, Yun, so this must be serious. I'll see what we can do.”

Something tight and bound up in his chest finally unspooled, and Yunho felt near delirious with relief. “Oh, thank you. I swear, we’ll never do something like this again, it—”

“Yeah, about that.”

Wooyoung groaned and slumped back down on the couch. “Ugh.”

“You two broke our trust. You two were incredibly irresponsible.”

Yunho leaned just barely into Seonghwa’s touch, wanting the comfort. He felt horrible, but not just because he'd lied. Knowing Mingi was still in that place, was still being touched or hurt or mistreated… Any minute not spent trying to save him felt wasted. 

Hongjoong continued. “No leaving the house until further notice. School and work the only exceptions. And you’ll both write an apology to the whole pack.”

Wooyoung made a face. “But—”

“And Wooyoung?” Hongjoong pointed in his direction. “This was your idea, doll. Come here.” 

Wooyoung groaned yet again, bratty until the very end. Yunho knew he secretly loved this, though. Loved the attention, the trust. Even before they’d extended this dynamic to the pack, Wooyoung had been getting spanked just for the hell of it. 

Regardless, he dragged his feet walking over, squirmed away when Hongjoong tried to press a kiss to his cheek. “Just get it over with.” 

So Hongjoong did. Bent him firmly over the edge of his desk, tugged his pants down to pool at his ankles, and pressed a firm hand onto the small of his back. Took a ruler to his backside until Wooyoung was a blubbering, regretful mess. Until he’d accept the hugs, the kisses, and squeaked out an apology that actually sounded sincere. 

Afterwards, with Wooyoung now tucked in his lap in the armchair, Hongjoong addressed Yunho again. “So, this fighter. How do we go about getting him?”

“Mingi,” Yunho reminded. Because calling him fighter felt derivative. Like they were no better than the people that profited off of him. “And I think you should start by meeting him.”

♡

Handler held him back just before he entered his holding pen. “Someone’s already reserved you tonight,” he said, breath hot against Mingi’s ear. “Try and keep your face pretty.” 

Mingi nodded, his stomach clenching up. Again? He typically wasn’t very popular, usually only getting bought once every two, maybe three months. He was one of the better fighters, sure, but he wasn’t the best looking. And people were typically put off by his silence, his submission. The ones that wanted a rough, dominant fuck from him typically went away disappointed. 

A part of him wondered if it was Wooyoung and Yunho again. If they just wanted to talk more. But in what world would they spend another two million won just to talk? He wasn’t worth all that.

So, he braced himself. Crouched down in his pen to wait for his turn in the ring, knowing all the while that the worst part of his night would come afterwards. Hopefully they wouldn’t be rough with him, or expect him to be rough with them. The ones he hated the most were when alphas brought their omegas in so they could watch him fuck them. Made him feel especially dirty, especially used. 

Years ago, when he’d first been sold here, Handler had said he’d get used to it. That hadn’t happened yet. 

Time passed too quickly, and before he knew it his door opened, and he was forced to walk towards the ring. 

His fight went as well as it could’ve. He tried to obey Handler’s instructions, tried to protect his face extra well. But he could only do so much, and his opponent landed three solid blows to his face. He found himself on the ground, struggling to collect himself, struggling to crawl away. And suddenly it wasn’t about keeping his face pretty, it was just the animalistic need to keep himself alive. 

His system panicked. A kick to his side aggravated an old break in his ribs, he couldn’t quite catch his breath, his vision was tunneling— Instinct took over. He heard himself scream as he yanked the other guy down, as he crawled across his body, as he brought his hands down again and again on his face. 

He didn’t know why he did this. Most nights he wished he’d just let himself die out here. But something, some awful self-preservation beast in his brain, would not let it happen. 

The bell rang. 

Mingi collapsed into the dirt, exhausted. He’d failed to keep his face clean and his side ached. The last thing he wanted was the body of a stranger. He just wanted to be alone, to be safe, to be—

Handler came out to get him, as he always did. Because otherwise Mingi would just lie there forever. “Up. Come on.” 

Mingi whined, curled in on himself. Couldn’t he just have one minute to collect himself, to recover, to— Handler kicked him in the back. Not hard enough to injure, but hard enough to make him flinch violently. How pathetic he must look to the audience. This was not the arrogant, cocky alpha they wanted to see. This was not a victor. 

“Leave him alone,” a voice said. “He’s mine for the night.”

Mingi carefully pushed himself up to his knees. He didn’t dare look upwards, but the voice alone scared him. The sort of authority only a real alpha had. Someone who was sure of themselves, someone who didn’t take shit from anybody. And, without a doubt, it was not Wooyoung or Yunho. Someone else had claimed him. 

“Hey.” The alpha squatted down and got on Mingi’s level. “Are you okay?”

Mingi managed a nod. That was the only answer he was allowed to have. Because who cared if he wasn’t okay? Slowly, he got his feet under him, rose on shaking legs. He surveyed the man who had him for the night, tried to stifle the surprise before it made it to his face. Though his voice had been undeniably alpha, his appearance was less so. Small, slight. Sort of like Wooyoung from a week ago. 

Great, he thought. The small ones always had something to prove, like fucking him would somehow make them bigger, stronger. He was in for a rough night. 

He bent his head towards the man, gestured a direction for them to walk. 

He made an effort not to limp, but every step aggravated his ribs badly, and he found himself hunched over, dragging one foot along the dirt in an effort to lessen the impact. 

“Here.” The alpha slid an arm around his waist, shouldered a bit of his weight. “Clearly you’re not okay.” 

Mingi let himself be helped, though the pit in his stomach only grew. It was obvious he was hurting, which meant this stranger knew he was weak, that he wouldn’t be able to defend himself against whatever sick fantasies he might have in store for the night. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could put his mind somewhere else for a few hours. 

When they arrived in the rental room he stepped towards the bathroom to shower, but the alpha stopped him. “We need to talk. Sit, please.”

Mingi gave a slight nod and joined him on the bed. Sometimes they liked him to stay bloody. 

“It’s Mingi, right?” 

He nodded, his eyes on his lap. He couldn’t get a read on this guy. Did he want a challenge or total submission? He wasn’t sure, but all his life submitting had been the safer option, so he kept his gaze down. 

But then— He looked up, surprised. The man stood and began moving around the room. In a matter of moments he’d located the bugs, the tiny mics planted in the corners, beneath the bed, in the lamp. He wrapped them all in a foam from his pocket and then smiled. “There. Now we can talk privately. That’s all of them, right?”

Mingi gave a slow nod. To the best of his knowledge, yes. That was all of them. 

“Good.” The man returned to the bed. “I’m Hongjoong, I’m from the same pack as Yunho and Wooyoung. Do you remember them?”

Mingi’s eyes widened slightly and he gave a careful nod. Of course he remembered them. But why would their alpha be here, why would he track down Mingi? Oh, god. He thought they’d cheated on their pack with him, he was here to kill him, to punish him, to—

“I’m not going to touch you. We want to help.”

The words echoed in his brain but did not take root. He was trembling, he realized, which was possibly the least alpha-like thing he could do in this situation. He opened his mouth, forced two words out even though they hurt. “I’m sorry.” They came out cracked and broken from disuse, but clear enough. 

“Hey, don’t be.” Hongjoong pulled the blanket off the bed, tucked it around Mingi’s naked shoulders. “We want to get you out.”

He shook his head. They still didn’t understand. This place wouldn’t let him go, this place would hunt him down. He owed them too much money, too much of his life. Any pack that took him in would be hunted, would be terrorized. He thought of Yunho’s careful tone and his sweet scent, then superimposed it with Handler, with blood. It couldn’t coexist. 

Anywhere Mingi went, danger would follow. 

But Hongjoong insisted. “At your next fight we’re gonna stage a distraction. Do you know the layout of this place? Some way you could leave that no one would notice?”

Mingi shook his head, pushed himself off the bed and away from all this insanity. There was no leaving. There was only failed escape attempts that got him beat, that got him starved. The only way he survived this place was with his head down, with his neck bared. 

He was losing his breath, again. He got the air in his lungs but there wasn’t any oxygen, just stale, empty air. His chest heaved, his hands shook so violently that even clasping them together would not help. 

“My pack could protect you. Could help you find somewhere else to go.”

Mingi shook his head. It was all he could do. 

“Please.” Hongjoong’s voice was soft, no longer commanding or firm. Though that could be a ruse meant to trick him. “We can help you. I saw the way you’re treated here, is this really want you want?”

It didn’t matter what he wanted. It didn’t matter. 

“Mingi,” Hongjoong said. He stood, approached him with slow, careful steps. “Don’t make us leave you here.”

It couldn’t be true. People had lied like this before. Interest in him was always a temporary thing. No one wanted Mingi for anything beyond a fight or a fuck.

And then Hongjoong reached up, cradled a gentle hand along Mingi’s jaw, his thumb rubbing carefully over his swollen cheek. “You don’t have to keep hurting, suppressing your instincts. You don’t have to be here.”

Mingi gave a feeble shake of his head. 

Hongjoong dug a hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a scrap of fabric. “Either way, Yunho says hi.” 

He took the piece of cloth, unsure what he was meant to do with it. But then the smell caught his attention, so he lifted it to his nose. Sure enough, that same sugary, warm smell. Yunho. His kindness, the concern he’d had, all wrapped up in one scent. 

Mingi filled his lungs with it, his eyes sliding shut. The smell was so human, so omega, so caring. Things he hadn’t been allowed in ages. 

“He scented it for you,” Hongjoong said. “He’s worried.”

The concept of being worried over was foreign. Even before the Handler, back when Mingi had been with his birth pack, he couldn’t recall anybody ever caring that much. And then something tiny and hesitant flickered in his chest. A little what if. Because what if this time it worked, and Hongjoong’s pack could get him out, they could keep him safe? And what if it meant being able to smell Yunho in real life again, even just once? 

It was selfish, reckless. Putting everyone in danger because of him. 

But Mingi couldn’t help himself. 

He pressed the scrap of cloth to his neck, right over his neglected, barren scent gland, and rubbed gently. And then, though he could not look Hongjoong in the eye while he did it, he nodded.

Chapter Text

Ming’s parents sold him to fight when he was sixteen. 

To settle a debt, they’d said. Two years tops. And the more he won, the quicker he’d be out of there. But then Handler added the cost of his training regime to the total. And the cost of feeding him, boarding him. And then when he got good enough to actually start fighting, and started getting hurt, the cost of the medic was added on there, too. 

Still, Mingi had held onto that number. And it had dwindled. 

He’d been naturally inclined to fighting, he’d slip into some alpha-instinct headspace in the ring. Some version of himself that moved on muscle memory and instinct alone. A version that did not care about his misery, about his fear. All it knew how to do was win. By the time he’d been twenty he’d been only a few months shy of paying off the debt, to the point where he’d begun to wonder what he’d do in the real world. Keep fighting for a little, he thought, put his winnings towards his own savings. And once he had enough he’d go find an apartment, he’d live alone. Maybe work in a restaurant, or anyplace that would take him, and slowly start rebuilding his life. And this whole mess, the years of being owned and beaten and used, would be put behind him. 

But then the number had gone up, again. 

Tens of millions all at once. At least another two years of being indentured, of being owned. 

Your parents, Handler had explained. There’d been a sick smile on his face as he’d said it. They took a bad gamble. You’re the collateral.  

And Mingi had finally understood, after years of deluding himself, that this place never intended to let him leave. 

If he wanted to get out, it would be by force.

A week passed and the little piece of cotton, torn from a t-shirt hem he thought, had lost Yunho’s scent. But Mingi still rubbed it against his cheek, against his neck. He slept with it on his pillow, stroked a finger across it, enamored by something that he could own. All his. Scented for him. A gift. 

Tomorrow was a fighting day. He’d drawn Hongjoong a map of this place best he could, pointed out where his holding pen was. They said they’d cause a disturbance before his fight started, that someone would get him from his pen, that they’d take him away. It’d all sounded very simple from Hongjoong’s mouth, very easy. Like they’d just walk out and he’d be freed. He’d tried to explain the danger, with his barely-there speech and fervently typed messages, but his concerns hadn’t fazed Hongjoong. 

I used to run in pretty nasty circles, he had said. This doesn’t scare me. 

But it scared Mingi. 

Even if they got him out tomorrow, even if he saw Yunho again. What then? What happened when Handler and his people tracked him down? Mingi had survived it before, but the thought of someone hurting Yunho, the thought of his scent going sour as he realized giving Mingi a chance would jeopardize his pack’s safety…

Mingi closed his eyes, the scrap of fabric in his fist. He’d been too selfish to say no, the offer too tempting. But that didn’t mean he genuinely expected this to work out for the best. 

After all, in his life nothing ever did. 

♡

Yunho could not sit still. 

Hongjoong, San, and Jongho had left a few hours ago. Their plan was simple, which was good, less details meant less mistakes. Still, Yunho’s brain was racing, a thousand worst case scenarios flashing behind his eyes. Them being caught and hurt, forced to leave Mingi behind. The distraction falling through, Mingi thinking he’d been abandoned. Or, the most cynical parts of his brain, worrying that Hongjoong’s mind would change. That he would see Mingi again, would realize all at once that he was too much of a risk. 

Maybe it was stupid to really believe Mingi and he were fated. But he’d never felt this way before. Even for the others, his soul pack. His chest had never physically hurt the way it had when he’d seen Mingi suffering. 

“I can practically hear you worrying,” Wooyoung said. He and Yeosang were in a heap on the couch, idly watching a youtube video on how to make croissant dough, something neither of them had ever tried nor ever would attempt. “It’s gonna go fine.”

“Mhm,” Yeosang agreed. His face was stuck in the crook of Wooyoung’s neck, his tongue darting out every now and then for a little kitten-lick on his scent gland. Wooyoung smelled like pine, like a fresh, wide open forest. Yeosang in particular found it addictive. “Hongjoong wouldn’t agree to this unless he thought he could pull it off.” 

In his brain Yunho knew that, but the queasiness in his stomach and the jitters in his body hadn’t gotten the memo. 

“Seriously,” Wooyoung tried again. “Sit.”

Yunho shook his head. He couldn’t. Because moving was the only thing keeping him sane right now. That, and the sliver of hope that it would all work out. That Mingi would come home, maybe even wearing the oversized hoodie Yunho had scented and made Hongjoong bring with. 

“What’s he smell like?” Yeosang asked. His eyes were half shut, expression lax. The physical opposite to how Yunho felt. “I can’t believe we might get another alpha around.”

Wooyoung feigned offense. “I’m not enough?”

“Not nearly.”

“He doesn’t have one,” Yunho said, “yet.” Because he needed to think that way, to hope that whatever had stolen Mingi’s scent could be reversed somehow. It’d felt so empty when they’d met him, hollow and blank. He hadn’t seen any patches over his glands, but maybe they had him on a chemical blocker. 

He paced over to the window, checking for the hundredth time. He turned away, brought his thumb up to his mouth and began gnawing on the nail. It’d been too long. They should’ve made it back by now, they should’ve—

The front gate opened. Tires on the driveway. 

Yunho bolted for the front door, flung it open and bounded outside in just his socks. He collided with Hongjoong as he stepped out from the car. “Is he? Did you?” He took Hongjoong by the shoulders, examined the spot of blood at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, god.”

Hongjoong pushed his hands away, grinning. “I’m fine. Go talk to your fighter.” 

The stress of the last few hours, the wound up anxiety, released all at once. And then Yunho was smiling back, caught up for a moment in Hongjoong, in his ability to somehow always do the impossible. “Thank you.”

Hongjoong waved it away. “Don’t mention it.” 

Yunho moved past Jongho and San, each showing small signs of a scuffle. Rumpled clothes, a bruise coming in on San’s cheekbone. But they were in good spirits, joking around as Yunho thanked them, urging him on with a friendly shove. 

Mingi sat in the backseat, making no effort to leave the car. He hadn’t put the hoodie on, but clutched it in his arms, his nose pressed into the fabric. His eyes went wide when Yunho stepped forward. Like a wild animal, tensed in a freeze reaction, hoping to go unnoticed. 

“Hey.” Yunho hesitated, all at once unsure what to even say. He’d planned this moment every day for the last two weeks, and yet now nothing felt right. What was there to say? Mingi had escaped something terrible, something inhuman. Nothing felt good enough. “Should we go inside?”

Mingi shook his head. Dressed in nothing but his filthy fighting shorts, his feet bare. 

Yunho glanced towards the house. Hongjoong was waiting on the front step, but he waved him inside. Who knew what sort of convincing Mingi might require? Or perhaps just a moment of silence away from the chaos. Either way, Yunho didn’t intend to rush this. 

He slid into the backseat. “It’s good to see you again.”

Mingi barely reacted, the bottom half of his face still hidden in the sweatshirt. His eyes watered just a little. There was a cut on his cheek, though it’d scabbed over. 

Yunho forced himself to relax. Like this was an ordinary situation to be in. “That’s my hoodie, I’d hoped you like it.”

Mingi gave a tiny nod. 

“Can I touch you?”

Another nod. 

Slowly, Yunho slid into the middle seat. He gently held his wrist out, hoping Mingi would prefer the real thing. He did, and immediately stuck his nose on his scent gland, eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled. Yunho couldn’t hold back a little giggle. “Not many omegas at the fighting ring?”

“No,” Mingi whispered. His voice was fragile, cracked around the edges. “Smells good.” 

Three whole words. Like they were already making progress. Like being away from that place from even an hour was already helping. 

Yunho reached for Mingi’s other hand, brought it slowly closer, rubbed his cheek over his wrist and took a sniff. As expected, nothing. Just a vague smell of sweat and dirt. 

Mingi’s face fell. He shook his head, tried to pull his hand back, but Yunho held fast. Even without a scent, the act of scenting was comforting, was intimate. “It’s okay,” Yunho murmured. “Did they do something to you?”

“Pills.”

“Mm. Maybe they’ll wear off.” 

But Mingi’s frown only deepened. There was no hope in his expression. And Yunho got a feeling that the pills had damaged something irreparable in him, and that his scent was not going to return. 

It didn’t matter. Yunho liked him how he was. 

“Let’s go inside,” he tried again. He kept Mingi’s wrist against his face, nuzzled gently against it. “Clean you up.”

♡

The pack’s house was large, nestled on the outskirts of the city, a full hour or so drive from the fighting ring. Though that did little to soothe him. 

Mingi let himself be led inside, though he lingered close behind Yunho, the sweatshirt still pressed to his chest. It’d been so long since he’d left that place, since he’d gone anywhere. But instead of relief he felt sick. The unknown was somehow worse, an awful black pit of darkness he did not want to venture within. 

Yunho led him directly upstairs, away from the pack’s voices on the main floor. 

“We don’t have any extra rooms, but you can have my bed.”

Mingi’s stomach rolled, but he nodded. Better Yunho than one of the alphas. Better Yunho’s bed than the one in the rental room. 

A thousand questions hung on his lips. Why they wanted him here, how long they intended to keep him. But answers scared him more than not knowing. Better to just enjoy whatever peace he was allowed, envelope himself in Yunho’s sugary scent, and then brace for impact later on. 

He showered, watched the dirt from the pen and the blood from his old, scabbed over wounds slip down the drain. He and Yunho were similarly sized, so he dressed in a pair of his sweatpants, layered on that same hoodie he’d ridden in the car with. Then he bent his neck and rubbed his cheek across his shoulder, pretending that he smelled this way. Pretending that something about him was this wonderful. 

If he was an omega he’d understand why they wanted him. Omegas had value. But what would a pack that already had two alphas want with him? He’d spent the last six years in the presence of alphas, and had quickly learned how territorial they could be, how too many of them in one space just created conflict. 

Though, he supposed if that was the case here, then at least it wouldn’t be anything he wasn’t used to. Years of forced submission had all but crushed his alpha spirit. He knelt easily, bared his neck without hesitation. It didn’t even feel hard, anymore.

Maybe that was it, then. They wanted a broken alpha to bitch. 

Yunho sat in the hallway, rose with a smile when Mingi emerged. “You look a little better.”

Mingi nodded. It was nice to be clean, though the dread had not washed away. How long did they have here before Handler and his people came looking? Before they came with their threats and their violence? 

He followed Yunho down the hall into a bedroom. A small, cozy room with a queen sized bed, a cluttered desk, and a bookshelf. Mingi lingered by the door, unsure what the rules here were. It’d been ages since he’d entered an omega’s space. Did he need permission? Was the rest of the pack okay with it? Would they be angry when they learned that Yunho had let someone who wasn’t pack into his bed? The last thing he wanted was to get Yunho in trouble. 

“Hey,” Yunho said, breaking him from his thoughts. He patted a spot on the bed and smiled. His hair, which looked impossibly soft in the lamplight, hung gently across his forehead. “Sit. What do you need? Are you hungry?”

Mingi shook his head and carefully sat. The duvet was a pretty deep purple color, so dark it nearly looked black. Soft and smooth beneath his hand. So he focused on that, tracing little invisible patterns with his fingertip. 

It didn’t feel real, being here. He should be fighting, recovering, fortifying himself for whatever tomorrow would bring. Surely this was just a hazy dream his brain had gifted him, a fantasy world where he got to see Yunho again, got to sit on his bed. 

“Get some rest, okay?” Yunho said. “There’s water on the nightstand, and if you need anything I’ll be across the hall.”

He moved to leave, and before he could think twice Mingi’s hand darted out to stop him, though he yanked it back before they touched. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Yunho smiled again. Why did he keep doing that? Mingi had done nothing to deserve it. “Do you want me to stay?”

If only. But he knew better. The alphas would not take kindly to him if he kept their omega through the night. The scenting they’d been doing had already been reckless enough. So, he shook his head. It had to be enough just to sleep here, enveloped in Yunho’s smell. 

A single night of sweetness, of solitude, before he learned what the morning held for him. 

Though, as he curled up at the foot of the bed, not feeling deserving of the pillows, of getting beneath the covers, a number appeared in his brain. Already, his mind was adding up what he owed these people. For saving him, for clothing him, for letting him sleep here. 

All he could hope was that the method of payment would not be too unbearable. 

♡

Selfishly, Wooyoung was reveling in this. 

He’d known Yunho for about three years, and in that time he’d rarely asked for comfort. If anything, he’d been the one giving it. A part of Wooyoung rationalized it, because Yunho was older, and their pack didn’t abide by traditional gender rules. But, simultaneously, his alpha yearned to provide in this way. To care for his omega, even if he was older and bigger than he was. 

So, when Yunho shuffled into his room with tears in his eyes, Wooyoung took him into bed with open arms. 

“They took his scent away. Maybe forever,” Yunho’s voice was muffled by Wooyoung’s shirt. “I didn’t think that was even possible.”

Wooyoung didn’t know what to say to that, so he just tightened his grip around Yunho’s shoulders and placed a few kisses into his hair. “We’ll figure it out.”

Yunho gave a loud, uncharacteristic sniff. Pressed himself somehow closer, his face against Wooyoung’s tummy, their legs tangled together. Wooyoung continue to comfort best he could, imitating Seonghwa, Yeosang, the ones who were actually good at this. Carded a gentle hand through his hair, kept his own breathing even and steady, scattered little kisses all across Yunho’s head.

 A piece of him wanted to leave it here, maybe rub Yunho’s back until he fell asleep. Because seeing such an intense reaction in Yunho scared him a little. This wasn’t the relationship he was accustomed to. Wooyoung was supposed to the emotional, needy one. He burned hot and fast, his emotions often behind the wheel. Yunho was meant to balance that out, to be the steady foundation voicing reason. But Mingi, scentless, terrified Mingi, had unmoored him. 

Wooyoung forced himself to remain calm, envisioned the way Hongjoong always managed to say the right thing, how caring came to Seonghwa like breathing. “This is… a lot to handle.”

Yunho stiffened just barely. “Imagine how he feels.”

“I know,” Wooyoung said, rubbing his cheek against Yunho’s hair absently. “But I wanna make sure you’re gonna be okay, too.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yuyu…”

Yunho pushed up onto his hands, his expression once again restrained. “I can take care of myself.”

Wooyoung’s alpha panicked. He’d said the wrong thing. A comfort seeking Yunho should’ve been treated like a butterfly, allowed to settle down and rest on his own terms, undisturbed and untouched. 

So, he retreated. “I know. I didn’t mean it that way.” A beat passed, and he managed to coax Yunho back into his arms, began tracing big circles onto his back, along his spine, until eventually he stilled entirely. 

They laid that way for a long while, until the house settled and the final door shut for the night. After a bit Yunho slipped into a doze, though he twitched fretfully, and eventually twisted away from Wooyoung’s arms entirely. 

So, Wooyoung settled onto his side, stared long and hard at the dark outline of Yunho’s hair, his back. Thought of how so little caught Yunho’s true, undivided attention. But when he did care for something he dove in headfirst. Sometimes at his own expense, the pack’s expense. It’d happened before, and the aftershocks had rattled them all. 

Maybe it was just alpha protectiveness triggered by Yunho’s sudden vulnerability, but all he could think was how badly he didn’t want this to be a mistake. A trigger for an emotional tidal wave Yunho wasn’t prepared to have. Because even though Wooyoung believed that Mingi was not a bad person, he also knew he was a cornered animal. Or, more accurately, a cornered predator. 

And desperation did crazy things to people. Even good ones.

But, then again, what did Wooyoung know? 

♡

Sleep had never come easily. 

Even when Mingi desperately needed the rest it fled him. He tended to wake four, five times a night, dreams thrusting him back into reality. And it was never logical demons in his nightmares; never phantom hands or Handler’s smug grin. Because that would’ve made too much sense. 

Instead Mingi dreamed about himself. Little Mingi. Mingi in his childhood home, in his bedroom. A carousel of relatively harmless memories. The party they’d thrown him when he’d presented as an alpha, his family’s third alpha boy. Or the birthday he’d had by the ocean, the sugary grit of icing on his teeth. Small little memories he thought he’d forgotten, yet still vivid in other senses. The scent he used to have, the voice he used to have. 

And then he’d awake all at once, chest heaving, eyes wide. And all over again he’d have to rationalize what had become of him. For the thousandth time he’d have to look his child sized self in the eyes and admit that he’d amounted to nothing. A pathetic excuse for an alpha. Capable of protecting no one — not even himself. 

It would’ve been easier to just dream about Handler’s violence. 

A silly part of his brain had hoped sleeping in Yunho’s bed, vaguely scent-drunk by his smell, would ward off the memories. Instead they’d intensified. Visions of his mother calling him little wolf sending him flinching onto the floor, the humiliation too much for his sleep addled brain to conceptualize.

After that one he just stayed awake, huddled against the wall with his hood up. He feared if he fell asleep again the next dream would have him screaming, and he doubted the pack would take well to being woken up. It was too early to get on their bad side. Not that he thought they liked him, per se. But hopefully they did not loathe him. 

Yet, his brain added. Sooner or later people realized they hated him. Realized nothing about him fit correctly. He didn’t know how other people were meant to act, but he knew how he’d been before. 

And before he’d been steady, linear. He remembered his emotions feeling hot, but that they’d always had a clear cause. X happened, so he felt Y. Logical.

Now, though? He lived in his own brain twenty four seven and it still didn’t make sense. 

For example, he could fight for months on end without it bothering him, but on a random afternoon a slap from Handler would break him down into tears. Or sometimes he got so angry his brain fogged and his fists moved without permission, but other fights all he could feel was a deep, dragging sadness. And then, most of the time, it was neither, and he’d go weeks at a time so numb and distant that he couldn’t recall if he’d been winning or not.

There was no rhyme or reason. He did not know why he acted this way. He simply did.

The sun had been up and creeping through the blinds for at least an hour when someone knocked on the door. 

Mingi did not answer, only braced himself on the floor. Best case scenario it was Yunho here to check on him. Worst case scenario, the pack alpha wanted to see him again. Wanted to figure out why he’d gone through all that trouble to break him out.

But when the door opened it was neither. Wooyoung, the other alpha, with a tray in one hand and a smile on his face. “Hey, you—” He paused in the doorway, his smile freezing in place.“Are on the floor?” 

Mingi pulled his knees in a little closer, his hand making a fist inside the hoodie’s front pocket. 

Wooyoung set the tray down on the desk and lingered awkwardly beside it. “Don’t just sit there…”

Mingi swallowed, glanced over at the plate of eggs and rice. A mug, too. Coffee, maybe. Something he hadn’t been allowed in years. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d had to beg for something. He supposed it wouldn’t be the last.

Slowly, not wanting to be perceived as a threat, he shifted forward onto his hands and knees, head lowered. “Alpha,” he said quietly. “May I—”

Wooyoung’s piney scent clouded. “Oh my god.”  

Mingi looked up sharply. Had he already done something wrong? Was speaking the wrong decision? Wooyoung had been kind to him before, so he’d thought it would be allowed. But maybe here, in his own house, in his omegas room, it’d been disrespectful. Maybe he would tell the head alpha, who was small but probably crazy. Maybe they’d beat him, send him back, maybe they’d leverage Yunho against him, maybe—

But Wooyoung just made a face, stuck his tongue out in exaggerated disgust. “Stop, you don’t— I’m just bringing you breakfast, and it’s Wooyoung, you know that. The only one who calls me Alpha is Yeosang, but that’s— never mind. You need anything else? Yunho’s coming up in a second.” 

Mingi faltered. Breakfast and Yunho. He liked the idea of that, but showing how much he liked it felt dangerous. Carefully, he rose to his feet, trying hard to keep his posture small. Other alphas did not like when he was taller than them. “No, thank you,” he whispered. His voice hurt. He couldn’t have said more than a dozen words in the past twenty four hours, but any use at all felt excessive. 

Wooyoung nodded. His smile was gone, his levity with it. So Mingi had done something wrong. “Okay. Um. See you around.” 

True to his word, a few moments later Yunho arrived, his own breakfast in hand. “Morning, Mingi.” He grinned and sat on the floor, gestured Mingi do the same. “I thought we’d eat together.”

That was manageable, and now it was just the two of them. So Mingi retrieved his food, taking extra care with the coffee, and sat. He kept a few feet between them, just to be safe. Omegas were valuable, but male omegas were particularly rare. And Yunho had such a nice scent, had such pretty eyes and hair… Mingi could not let anyone in the pack think he was a threat to their claim. He needed to pretend like Yunho’s scent, his softness, his gentleness, had no effect on him at all. 

Easier said than done. 

Yunho sipped his coffee. “Did you sleep okay?”

Mingi nodded and lifted up his own mug. Surprisingly good. Whoever made it had stirred in a little sugar, a bit of cream. 

“Oh, good. There’s a big dip in my mattress since I usually sleep smack in the middle, sometimes San complains about it.” 

Mingi hadn’t noticed, but he also hadn’t spent much time in the bed. But he nodded again, waited for Yunho to take a bite of food before he dared go for it. 

For a few minutes they sat in silence, quietly eating, sipping their coffee. He should say something. Thank you, maybe. Because he got the feeling it’d been Yunho’s idea for them to break him out of the ring. But what thank you could be adequate? He’d rather skip the pleasantries and they be honest with him. He was theirs, now. For however long they wanted him. And he would like to know what they expected from him in exchange.

“So,” Yunho said. He pushed his bowl away, leaned back against his hands. “You already met San and Jongho, but I’m betting it was pretty chaotic. And then there’s two others, too. Seonghwa and Yeosang. They’re omegas like me.”

Mingi nodded. That made three omegas, two betas, and two alphas. A bad ratio, considering he’d just shown up. Even two alphas in a pack felt dangerous, let alone three. “Are—” He paused to clear his throat. “Are you all for the alpha’s?”

Yunho stared. “I’m… Honestly, I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

Mingi looked away. A shameful thing to ask, he knew that. But it’d be helpful to know whether or not he needed to be wary with everyone or just Hongjoong and Wooyoung. “Do the betas get to share you?”

“Share us?”

“Using you.” Mingi made a vague gesture with one hand, his cheeks hot. “Or are the alphas…territorial.”

“No one uses me, it's not— Well— Okay. It’s like this.” Yunho held out both hands, fingers splayed. “This is the pack. No one’s really above anyone else, no one is territorial. We’re all just—” And then he pressed both hands together, finger through finger. “Together.”

Well, that didn’t make much sense. “All of you?”

“Mhm.”

“But…” Even his birth pack hadn’t operated like that. There’d been the head alpha, his father, and then a cluster of omegas and betas. The only other alphas welcome had been Mingi and his brothers, but that was different. They weren’t competition. 

But Yunho seemed unhappy by the question, so Mingi dropped it. Best to just assume they all shared the omegas, and that he better be careful around the betas, too. 

“Do you think you’d be up to meeting everyone today?”

Mingi shrugged. He didn’t see how his opinion mattered. 

Yunho continued, picking absently at the final few bites of his breakfast. “I know Hongjoong wanted to talk with you sooner than later. Since you’ll be staying for, um, at least a little while. He wanted to go over house rules, things like that.”

Finally, something that made sense. “Okay.” 

“But, um…” Yunho reached over and set his hand across Mingi’s, squeezing just barely. “If you need a few days to adjust, first. Or if—”

“I don’t.” Mingi pulled away from the touch. He couldn’t keep indulging like this. Sticking his nose on Yunho’s scent gland might’ve been okay last night, when it’d just been them in the car, but it couldn’t be a habit. Any pack member could walk by the open door, could see. And then where would he be? 

“Or heal, I figured—”

“I don’t.” His voice was regaining life. Strange on his own ears, hoarse and unfamiliar, but coming back all the same. “I can adjust fast.” 

“Okay,” Yunho said softly. He glanced away, chewing absently on his bottom lip. “I’ll let Hongjoong know.”

Chapter Text

“Was it really bad?” Seonghwa leaned forward, mouth open, and accepted a bite of lunch. 

Hongjoong hummed in approval, patting his thigh for emphasis. “Terrible,” he said. “Treated like animals. Honestly, it was hard leaving everyone else behind.”

Seonghwa’s expression wilted a little, and he turned his face away into the crook of Hongjoong’s neck. “Is that your way of saying you’re planning something? Joong, you know it scares me.”

Hongjoong breathed out a dry laugh. “Maybe.” Seonghwa always read between his lines, so in tune with his tells that it was scary. He coaxed him out of his shoulder and guided another mouthful of food past his lips.

They did this occasionally, no longer because Seonghwa was skipping meals, but because it felt intimate. Tangled up together on the love seat, Seonghwa in his lap, taking each bit of food Hongjoong gave him. A funny way to satisfy the ancient alpha instinct to provide, the omega desire to be cared for. A moment away from the real world, from work. Safe inside the office, remembering why they’d chosen one another all those years ago. 

Seonghwa rested his head back on Hongjoong’s shoulder and chewed, his gaze distant, the way it always got when he mulled things over. “Wooyoung said Mingi called him alpha, knelt and everything.”

Hongjoong had to resist laughing. The idea of someone as vicious as Mingi submitting to Wooyoung was just a touch funny. “He doesn’t know better.”

“If Wooyo hadn’t been so weirded out, it would’ve gone straight to his head.”

“Oh, I bet it still will, somehow.” Hongjoong cleaned out the bowl, held out the last bite. “You want?

Seonghwa shook his head. “Full.”

So Hongjoong popped it into his own mouth and set the dish on the side table. He had a meeting in about thirty minutes, and wanted to talk with Mingi before then. Still, he granted himself a few more moments cuddled up with his mate. Pressed his face closer to Seonghwa’s neck, right next to the bite over his scent gland, and sunk into the smell of lemon, refreshing like a summer day. “Really, though.” He took a final sniff and then forced himself to pull away. It was the middle of a workday, after all. “We might have to get used to a bit more formality around here. I think the ring was very big on hierarchy. And Mingi was at the bottom.”

“That’s so gross.”

It was. Hongjoong had seen some terrible things in his lifetime, but he’d still felt a bit queasy when they’d found him. Huddled in a tiny room waiting for his fight, filthy, and unable to even make eye contact. “Time will help. He’ll realize sooner or later that we don’t care about that sort of thing.” 

“Mm,” Seonghwa hummed his agreement, his gaze still faraway. “And don’t tell him everything about our dynamic, okay? Keep it private for now. It could seem frightening.”

“Or we could paddle Wooyoung in front of him and prove that being an alpha doesn’t put you at the top of any hierarchy.” Hongjoong poked a finger at Seonghwa’s cheek until he smiled. “Kidding. Obviously, you’re right.” 

“Uh huh.” Seonghwa pushed his hand away. “Always am.”

♡

Yunho let him pick out another sweater from his closet, this time a striped one with a tear in the elbow. Mingi imagined it like armor, like the scent and the softness could protect him somehow. 

Yunho said they could have lunch together once he talked with Hongjoong. Maybe because he knew Mingi would desperately need comfort afterwards. That incentive was the only reason Mingi kept his composure as he knocked. He had to. For Yunho.

“Mingi!” Hongjoong opened the door to his office, grinning. “Come in, I hope you slept okay.”

Mingi wasn’t sure why everyone in this house was obsessed with him getting rest. Sleep deprivation barely affected him anymore, it was just his baseline. But saying that would feel rude, so he nodded. It was usually safe to agree. 

Hongjoong took a seat on the small sofa, so Mingi took his spot on the floor before him, kneeling like he always did. Unlike Wooyoung, he knew what was expected of him from a pack alpha. Total submission, zero challenge. He did not intend to speak or move unless told to. Because this man alone could be the deciding factor on his life. On whether or not he kept the privilege of talking to Yunho. Whether or not he was allowed to stay here for a while and what would be expected of him if he did. 

“I was told you’d probably kneel,” Hongjoong said after a moment. “Is that where you’re most comfortable?”

Mingi resisted the urge to nod automatically. A test question. Because it’d be stupid to agree that he was comfortable here, thus admitting it was for his benefit. “Where I should be,” he whispered instead. His voice cracked embarrassingly. 

“That’s not how I see it, I’d hoped you’d sit with me. But whatever makes you feel best, okay?”

Mingi nodded. This definitely made him feel best. 

Hongjoong shifted on the sofa, pulled his legs up, and sat criss-cross. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“No, alpha.”

“Just Hongjoong, please.”

“Hongjoong,” Mingi corrected, though it felt borderline criminal to do so. Even his own father, who’d been a kind pack leader, would’ve struck him for such a slight. 

“I’m glad to hear you talking a little. Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Good. Well, this really won’t take long, I just wanted to check in with you. Yesterday went as good as it could’ve, I think.”

Another nod. Yesterday had been a blur. The vague rush of yelling and cold air and hands pulling him this way and that. The only clear part, the only thing he remembered, was a sweatshirt scented Yunho being thrust into his arms in the car. He’d clung to it. 

“The whole pack agrees you’re welcome to stay for a while. At least until you figure out what the next best step would be. Okay?”

“Thank you.” 

“However.” Hongjoong slid off the couch and sat on the floor, dipped down until Mingi was forced to look him in the face. “I want to be clear with you, okay?”

Mingi realized his hands were shaking in his lap. Trying not to draw attention, he carefully folded them together and squeezed. “Yes, alpha.” 

“My pack’s safety comes first. For the time being you’re under that umbrella. So if your old associates come looking for you, you have our protection." He spoke slowly, clearly. There was no room to misunderstand. "But if you do anything, and I mean anything to harm one of us… Anything with intentional malice, anything cruel… Well, I’d kill you for that.”

Every muscle in Mingi’s body went tense. He wanted to suck in a lungful of air but it wouldn’t work correctly, no part of him was willing to move. 

“Emphasis on intentional, Mingi. Mistakes happen. Feelings get hurt. I’m talking violence. Danger. Does that make sense?”

It did, because these had been the rules Mingi expected to play by. After all, he was a strange alpha invading another’s pack, sleeping in one of his omega’s beds. “Yes.” He barely breathed the word. “I’m obedient, I promise.”

“I believe you. But it’s my job to be cautious.”

“Am—” Mingi snapped his mouth shut. This wasn’t the time to speak out of turn. 

But Hongjoong waved him on. “What?”

“Yunho,” Mingi began slowly. He squeezed his eyes shut, hating himself for asking such a thing. But he didn’t want to be afraid every time Yunho spoke to him. “Am I allowed… Can I… He’s very nice to me, and—”

“Can you what?”

“Keep talking to him.” Mingi looked away. He’d never asked a pack alpha for something before. But this was important and he was willing to risk it. “I won’t do anything bad, I promise. He’s just… He’s my friend, I think.” 

“Mingi,” Hongjoong said softly. “Of course you can.” 

Mingi exhaled a big whoosh of air. “Thank you, alpha— Hongjoong.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you so much, I’m sorry. I promise, unless you go axe murderer on us, we’re friendly.”

Mingi didn’t know how to react to that. But he knew he didn’t plan to go axe murderer on anyone. 

“The only other rules are pretty basic. We expect honesty, respect. We always assume the best from one another, and we do our best to talk shit through. The only time I’m much of a pack alpha is when rules get broken, or if someone is doing something that jeopardizes their health. Then I might step in. Does that sound okay?”

Mingi swallowed. “If I break a rule?”

But Hongjoong just shrugged. “Then we’ll figure it out. We don’t get upset over mistakes, we just talk through what to do differently next time.”

That was too good to be true. But even if it did work for them, they’d quickly realize it wasn’t the way Mingi was handled. He’d been hearing for years that the only way through his thick skull was with force. 

Hongjoong stood and stuck out a hand. “Up up, big guy. Knowing Yunho, he’s probably making you a feast out there. Don’t keep him waiting.” 

♡

 Yunho would be lying if he said Mingi was what he’d expected. 

He’d dreamed about a soulmate when he’d been little, and the mental image of him had always been prince-charming esq. Especially because Yunho himself was so restrained, oftentimes quiet in spaces he was not comfortable. He’d envisioned his mate as unflinching and fearless, ready to sweep him away. 

Instead here was Mingi. Tall, yes, but hunched in his seat at the counter with his eyes down. Every sound in the house, whether it be a door shutting upstairs or two plates clinking together, made him flinch violently. 

“Did your talk with Hongjoong go okay?” Yunho asked gently. Mingi had emerged from the office white as a sheet, his hands trembling. “I hope he didn’t scare you.”

“No,” Mingi answered. His voice was barely above a whisper. “He seems very fair.”

“If you have any questions you can ask me.” Yunho set a plate down before him, another in his own place. “I bet it’s overwhelming, right?” 

“I’m fine.”

Yunho nodded, like he believed it. But someone who was fine didn’t hunch over like that, desperately trying to be smaller. “Did you ever have a pack before?”

“My family.”

“Do you miss them?” Yunho brought over the pan he’d been warming up leftovers in, carefully divided it between their two plates. 

Mingi stared at the food for a moment before looking up. “Yes,” he said. His eyes were red and watery, and Yunho noticed in that moment that his front tooth was crooked. “But they wouldn’t want me anymore.”

Yunho paused, his chopsticks an inch from his mouth. “Why not?” Immediately, he wished he hadn’t asked. Because Mingi’s ears reddened, and he began to gnaw on his bottom lip, which was already scabbed over. “Sorry,” Yunho said quickly. “Forget I—”

“They’d consider me too bitched to be a real alpha,” Mingi said. He gave a weak shrug. “But it’s okay.”

Bitched. What did that even mean? Yunho was pretty sure he’d seen that as a category in porn, mainly as an alpha on alpha faux-breeding kink, but there wasn’t anything inherently shameful about that. Maybe just a bit uncommon. “Mingi, that’s—”

“I accepted it a long time ago.” Mingi took a bite of food, chewed slowly. “So please don’t feel bad for me.” 

He understood that to be Mingi’s way of asking they drop the subject, so Yunho just nodded and resumed eating. “My mom used to always worry about me,” he blurted after a moment. “Because I wouldn’t stop growing. She’d say I wasn’t going to find a mate if I looked like an alpha.” He shrugged, smiling as he spoke. It’d never been hurtful, in fact it’d turned into a bit of a joke in his family. Especially because his alpha sister had remained stubbornly short. “But I found a whole pack no problem.” 

Mingi didn’t seem to pick up on the humor. “I think you’re a perfectly good omega, Yunho.” 

“Oh, I—”

“No one should care how big you are since you smell so nice. But is that why Hongjoong hasn’t bitten you? Because you’re too tall?” 

Yunho paused. “Hongjoong and Seonghwa are mated.”

But Mingi nodded like he’d already known that. “Seonghwa’s his favorite, then.”

This again. The idea that Hongjoong owned them all because he was the head alpha. “No, it’s—”

“Oh!” Yeosang appeared and stopped short in the doorway. “I thought— I mean— Hi, Mingi. I’m Yeosang.” 

Whatever slight progress they’d made towards relaxing evaporated. Mingi locked back up, his face vacant, his eyes bugged. 

Yunho forced a smile onto his own face, though he’d made it clear that the pack was to stay out of the kitchen while they ate. This was the exact situation he’d wanted to avoid. Someone sneaking up and spooking Mingi. “Hey,” Yunho said. “We’re just finishing.”

Yeosang made a beeline for the fridge, mouthing a sorry as he passed. He got a bottle of iced coffee and poured two glasses, then turned towards Mingi one last time before leaving. “We’re happy to have you, Mingi.”

Mingi still hadn’t looked up. 

“If there’s anything you need, please let me know. Okay?”

At that Mingi risked a glance upwards, though his eyes flicked away a second later. “Yes,” he whispered. “Thank you.” 

They sat in silence for a moment after Yeosang left. Yunho wasn’t sure what to make of it all. “Do omegas make you nervous?”

“No,” Mingi said immedately. He shook his head a bit too fast to be sincere. “It’s just— Well— No.”

“Hey.” Yunho scooted a bit closer, just so their shoulders brushed together. He found himself sniffing on instinct, expecting to get a peek into Mingi’s brain through his scent. But, of course, there was nothing. “You can talk to me. I won’t tell anyone else what you say.”

Carefully, Mingi set his chopsticks down, both hands returning to his lap. “I know. It’s just… You’re one of the first omegas to like me. Usually I scare them.” 

“Well, Yeosang didn’t smell scared.” Surprised, maybe. His strawberry scent had sharpened just a little, but nothing close to fear. Yunho gave Mingi a friendly nudge. “And you never scared me.”

“All right.” 

It was becoming difficult to keep his tone casual. Yunho felt out of his depth, stupid and unsure how to navigate this. He wished Mingi would scent him again, would talk openly. But it seemed he was only closing further into himself. 

He forced himself to inhale deeply, to try and see this from Mingi’s perspective. In a house full of strangers, still bruised from his last few days in the fighting ring, and now expected to adjust in a matter of hours. Fucking impossible. He needed time. “You can meet the rest of the pack over dinner, okay? What would you like to do until then?”

“Whatever you like.” 

Yunho should’ve expected that answer. “Do you have any hobbies?”

“I don’t think so.” 

“Oh, well—”

“Could I go lie down again?” Mingi looked so hesitant asking, like even Yunho, who he seemed fond of, would be angry with him. “Please?”

And who would Yunho be to deny him anything? So, he walked him back upstairs, wishing the whole time that Mingi might ask him to stay. They could get to know one another a bit better, do a real scenting, maybe even lie together in bed.

But he didn’t, of course. Likely didn’t realize he was allowed to. 

Time, he reminded himself. Mingi needs time. 

♡

Well, I’d kill you for that. 

Mingi wasn’t sure what was worse. The knowledge that Handler was likely tracking him down at this very moment, or the soft, terrible threat from Hongjoong’s mouth. Either way, it’d clarified that he was in fact on thin ice; No matter what Yunho believed.

And the rules. So vague, so non-applicable to him. Be honest, communicate… That was for people with pack privilege, not animals like him. Mingi didn’t doubt for a minute that the facade would fall away. He’d do something wrong, say something wrong. And then they’d realize all at once that he was not pack, he was not really anybody, and he could be treated in any matter they desired.

Best to just assume the same rules as the ring applied. Submit to everyone, keep his mouth shut, and do as he was told. 

Back in Yunho’s room, he reclaimed his spot on the floor. He’d been lucky to be allowed time with Yunho, but that was even more reason to stay out of his bed. Hongjoong could be kind now, but no self-respecting alpha would tolerate another sleeping in his omega’s bed. Not for long, anyways. 

Why Hongjoong had even allowed him to come here… Mingi kept trying to figure out why, but no one had asked anything of him yet. If Hongjoong wanted to bitch him then surely he would’ve by now. Same went for all of them. Mingi had gotten his shower, his night of sleep, his food… He wasn’t terribly injured, the bruises on his side, on his face, were not overly repulsive.

At least he knew Yunho liked him, that much was clear. So was Mingi some sort of gift, then? From Hongjoong, the rest of the pack, to their favorite omega? That wouldn’t be so bad. He’d do anything for Yunho. Whether it be protection or sex, he could live with it. 

In fact, it’d feel good to be useful. When he was useful he didn’t have to wonder, and wondering was the worst part. 

He pulled the sweater sleeves past his hands and curled into a ball, leaned against the wall. At least here he wouldn’t have to hurt anyone. Best if he just—

There was a tiny scratch at his door. Another one. 

Mingi perked up, unsure why any of the pack would make such a noise. Why not just knock?

“Hello?” His voice hurt a bit, though it was far better than yesterday. When he didn’t get a response he carefully got to his feet and crossed the room, pulled the door open just a few centimeters. 

With an angry meow, a gray cat pushed through the crack and into the room. Mingi startled backwards, immediately panicked. The pack had a cat? “Shoo,” he whispered, ushering it back out the door. “I’m not Yunho.”

The cat ignored him. Instead hopped onto the bed, walked over to a beam of sunshine cascading across the comforter, and instantly curled up to sleep. 

For a moment Mingi just stared. He didn’t want their cat in here, he didn’t like cats. If a pack was going to have a pet it should at least be a dog, something that was useful. But cats didn’t accomplish anything, didn’t do anything.

“Posy!” Yeosang appeared, stuck his head through the doorway. “Sorry, I meant to carry her downstairs.”

Mingi took a few fast steps backwards, eyes down. He’d gotten permission regarding Yunho, but surely Yeosang was off limits. 

But then Yeosang came inside the room, sprawled out on the bed, and began scratching Posy behind the ears. “She always gets the afternoon sun in here,” he said. Like none of this was odd, like he hadn’t just put himself in a vulnerable position with an alpha he barely knew. Hongjoong would be furious. Yunho would be furious. Mingi had seen the way he’d tensed when Yeosang had interrupted them in the kitchen, clearly jealous. 

Mingi pressed himself against the wall. Against his better judgement, he stared. Yeosang was belly up on the bed, nuzzling his face against Posy’s, almost like a cat himself. “She doesn’t seem to mind you in here,” he said. “Come say hi.”

Mingi shook his head. He didn’t want to pet a cat. 

Yeosang glanced in his direction. He was a pretty omega, his dark hair splayed out in the sun, eyes half closed as he stroked the cat’s fur. Pretty omegas were dangerous, as far as Mingi was concerned. Even when alphas brought their pretty omegas for him to fuck, it often led to violent jealousy, like they’d only done it for an excuse to get territorial on him. If not that then it was just fear. Because Mingi was too big, too violent. No matter how submissive he tried to be, Omegas never trusted him. 

Yunho was only exception.

So, no. He did not step closer. 

“Oh, Posy,” Yeosang crooned. He had a finger under her chin, scratched delicately. “You don’t mind Mingi, do you?” He smiled in Mingi’s direction. “Wooyoung found her last year in the snow.”

“Oh,” Mingi managed. He’d seen cats outside before when he’d been a kid. Bringing them inside had never crossed his mind. His father would’ve been angry. 

“Hongjoong acted mad, kept threatening to smack Wooyoung if he didn’t rehome her, but then the two of them would be curled up in his office, napping in the middle of a workday.” Yeosang giggled a little, then scooped Posy up into his arms. “She’s just a big baby.” 

Smack Wooyoung. Mingi had assumed Hongjoong had been lying when he’d said there wasn’t punishment for broken rules, and It felt good to get that confirmed. Still, smack was such a mild word. Maybe because it’d been over a cat, while a real infraction resulted in a beating. Yes, that would make sense. 

Yeosang stood, the cat still in his arms, and stepped closer. “Are you allergic or something?”

Mingi had no idea. 

“More of a dog guy?” 

He shrugged. That seemed more accurate. If he had a pet it would likely be a dog. But he didn’t expect he’d ever have a pet. 

Yeosang was barely a step away now, the cat purring up a storm in his arms, cradled like a human child. “Find out, then. She’s too sleepy to bite right now.” And then he looked up expectantly, like he wasn’t a beautiful, claimed omega talking to a strange, dangerous alpha. 

Mingi felt damn near lightheaded. Hongjoong would kill him for this. For getting close without permission, for even looking one of his most valuable members in the eyes. But, simultaneously, Mingi found himself being swayed. Yeosang was so unbothered by him, and the lack of fear was refreshing. Like for a second Mingi didn’t have to be a fighter or a prostitute. He was just a guy, for once not absolutely terrible and ruined.

So, he reached out a shaky hand. Lightly pet Posy behind the ears as Yeosang had, then realized she was quite soft, and continued on. How could something this small, this fragile, like him? But Posy kept purring, even twisted a little and gave him access to more of her back. 

“See?” Yeosang grinned. “She loves you already.”

Mingi flattened his hand out, pet her fully. He could feel her purring, a gentle little vibration, her whiskers twitching every few moments, her eyes shut. Like she was really happy here, like she didn’t mind him, like he wasn’t screwing it up. “Cute,” Mingi murmured. 

“If you leave your door open she might come sleep in here tonight,” Yeosang said. “Yunho’s her favorite.”

“Mine too.” Mingi looked up fast. Was that a weird thing to say? He barely knew Yunho, and he wasn’t available, he wasn’t— But Yeosang didn’t look put off. He’d barely reacted. Maybe he hadn’t heard. 

They stood like that, petting Posy and cooing over her, and she eventually got tired of it and left. Then it was the two of them, and the fear began to creep back in. Because being in a room with an omega that hadn’t been brought to him, that hadn’t paid, was unheard of in Mingi’s world.

Despite himself, his eyes drifted over to Yeosang’s throat. There, clear as day, was a mating mark. Right over his scent gland. Claimed. 

Yeosang seemed to sense the shift, though his scent stayed sweet. “Well.” He took a step closer to the door, an awkward smile on his face. “Now you’ve met Posy.”

Mingi nodded. He was glad he had. 

“See you tonight?”

Tonight. Perhaps his reaction made it to his face, because Yeosang lifted his eyebrows in question. “The pack,” Mingi said slowly. He wasn’t sure if he trusted Yeosang the way he’d instantly trusted Yunho, but he did seem relatively harmless. For now, that was good enough. “Is this all…real?”

Because it didn’t feel real. The idea that two alphas three omegas and some betas could live together happily. That no one seemed to be hiding bruises or tears. That no one had wielded their power yet, no one had come to beat him or fuck him or even humiliate him. Mingi didn’t buy it. He didn’t. Because why would they rescue him if not to use him? Nothing was ever free. Nothing. 

But Yeosang merely smiled. “Mhm. Totally real.”

Easy for him to say. Easy for a pretty omega with a mating bite. Nothing ever worked like that for Mingi. His brain, his instincts, and every lesson that had ever been beaten into him called bullshit. 

Chapter Text

Seeing Mingi meet the pack gave Yunho a surge of hope. 

Because, though he did not say a word the entire meal, and could not look anyone in the eye, his presence alone fit. Yunho wasn’t sure if he could explain it. But as he looked around their table, as the chaos of everyone’s day collided and elbows bumped, it felt complete. Like Mingi had slid into place without issue and the entire had pack had made room for him. It was a good feeling. Because maybe this really was a place he could heal, could come to consider home. 

Maybe Yunho’s gut had been right and Mingi really could be theirs. 

He glanced over at Mingi’s side profile every once in a while during the meal. The scab on his cheekbone, the old bruises yellowing on his jaw. His hair just barely brushed the tops of his shoulders, parted messily and pushed behind his ears. He hadn’t smiled yet, but Yunho had a feeling it’d be adorable when he did. Especially with his front tooth just a bit askew.

It was so funny seeing him here. Eating dinner with the pack, in one of Yunho’s sweaters, when a mere few weeks ago he’d been a stranger in the fighting ring. Those two versions didn’t coexist well in Yunho’s brain. He just… He couldn’t imagine this Mingi, with his shaky hands and tentative glances, beating someone to the point of unconsciousness.

But he could, Yunho reminded himself. And he has. Because it wasn’t fair to anyone, Mingi most of all, if he acted like that’d been a different person entirely. 

Slowly, hoping not to spook him, Yunho touched his leg under the table. Mingi turned to look at him, eyes widening. “Hey,” Yunho said gently. Just a reminder that he was here. That everything was okay. 

Mingi seemed to understand. He swallowed. “Hey.” 

♡

Four days passed. Mingi didn’t go outside once. 

Not for lack of encouragement. Both Yunho and Yeosang tried to get him to sit outside, to get some sun. And he wanted to, of course he wanted to. He’d been deprived of fresh air for so long. But every time he considered venturing into the pack’s garden, with its lounge chairs and small fountain, with the autumnal plants in terracotta pots… All he could think was how vulnerable he might feel out there. The wide open sky, the wind, the world…

He knew he didn’t have a scent, but he still envisioned it being carried away, brought all the way back to the ring. Handler would drag him back to that place, would find a way to make it even more unbearable. Sabotage his fights, withhold medical attention, cheapen his rates to guarantee he’d be fucked more. God, maybe he’d been stupid coming here. The ring had been bad, yes, but it could easily be far worse.  

He’d thought getting to see Yunho again would make all the risk worth it, but what if he’d been wrong? What if Handler found such effective ways to torture him that even the memory of Yunho’s scent, his sweet smile, wasn’t enough? 

It’d happened before. 

He’d tried to escape a few years in, just after learning that his debt had increased. He’d only made it an hour, lost in the surrounding area, feet bleeding in the snow. He hadn’t realized it was winter when he’d left, because no one told him that sort of thing. So what chance had he stood? Hungry, naive, unsure where in the city he was. He’d tried to ask for help, but at that point he was too feral looking, too bruised, and strangers quickly turned away. 

By the time Handler found him he’d given up entirely. Just curled up in an alleyway and waited to be tracked down. They’d cancelled his fights for a full month after that, beat him severely, and locked him in his room. The only person he’d seen for that time was Handler, who would stop by every few days with a small portion of food to check and see if Mingi had learned his lesson yet. He had — he swore he had. But nothing he said was good enough, no amount of begging or tears could prove it. 

That was when he’d stopped talking. Didn’t seem to be a point since no one ever believed him. 

Ironically, the silence ended up working. Because on the final day, when Handler had come into his room and seen him curled up on the floor silent and impassive, he’d declared it done. He leaned out into the hallway and shouted to one of the other men involved in the ring: We broke Mingi!

A few men collected in his room to see. They laughed when Mingi didn’t react to being slapped, then to being punched, then kicked. He’d been too hungry to care. Too exhausted. Too lonely. And he couldn’t remember why he’d even tried to run away in the first place, because he couldn’t fathom any other life than this. 

He was Mingi, the third alpha to present in his family, the one nobody needed. Sold to fight, maybe born to fight. And there wasn’t anything he could do about it. 

He hadn’t dreamt otherwise until Wooyoung and Yunho showed up and started talking crazy about how he didn’t have to be here, how things could be better for him. And, to his complete surprise, it seemed they’d told the truth. Four days at the pack house and it was still real. No one hurt him, no one degraded him. 

If anything, he was ignored by some of the pack members. The beta’s, mainly. And Hongjoong and his mate. The four of them would say hello if they passed, would maybe smile across the dinner table, but overall kept their distance. A relief, truthfully. He felt much more at ease around Yunho and Yeosang. 

And Wooyoung, too. Because Mingi reluctantly had a soft spot towards him. But he wasn’t a typical alpha, anyways. Didn’t act like one was supposed to. 

And so, for the first time in his life, Mingi had a few days without any hunger, without any fighting, without any threats. And for some reason going outside felt like a certain way to compromise the whole thing. Like it’d send a beacon out and Handler would appear, would hurt Yunho, would take Mingi away. 

He knew he was just paranoid. He knew stepping a few feet outside would not harm him. But knowing didn’t seem to help much. 

No one forced him to go, though. And they still spent time with him, even though he wasn’t very good company. 

Yeosang usually came to visit with Posy for the afternoon sun. They’d lay on the bed and talk and talk, rambling about tiny things — ordinary things — and Mingi would do his best to listen.

Wooyoung was the only one without a job, because he was still in university, which meant he was home a bit more. Twice now he’d made Mingi play video games with him, something Mingi remembered doing with his brothers years ago. He was shit at it now, but it still felt incredibly familiar. And familiar was a good thing, he thought. 

And then there was Yunho. 

Touching him much at all still felt dangerous, but Mingi began lingering before pulling away. So when Yunho touched his arm, leaned against him, sat too close… He’d let it be for a moment, just a heartbeat, before reluctantly shifting aside. He loved it. The warmth, the presence, the funny little buzz in his chest he got when Yunho looked at him. But skin on skin was still too terrifying, held too much risk. 

It didn’t matter when Yunho insisted it was allowed, that no one would be angry. Mingi just couldn’t believe it. 

“And this is when we all went to Portugal together, see?” Yunho pointed to a photo in the book, a shot of the entire pack crowded together, a wash of blue ocean water behind them. “San got sick on the second day and missed like, everything. He still complains about it, so we’ll have to go back sometime.”

“Oh.” Mingi nodded, sincerely fascinated by the photos. They sat together in Yunho’s room, propped up by the pillows at the head of the bed, a photo album balanced between their laps. Keeping memories like this wasn’t surprising, but the amount of love in it was. Every photo, even the ones where they weren’t anyplace interesting, were bursting with happiness. Big grins and arms around shoulders, kisses on cheeks and candid laughter. 

Yunho smiled. He was doing it again, his shoulder and his arm pressed against Mingi’s. The warmth of his body made it through the layers of clothing and skin, seemed to reach all the way to Mingi’s bones. “Maybe next time you can come.”

Mingi looked up. “To Portugal?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Why not? Maybe because this was a temporary arrangement. Mingi estimated they’d let him stay two weeks or so at the most, but then they’d expect him to leave, to find someone else to bother. After all, they’d done far too much already. He couldn’t expect to be welcomed into the pack too. But Yunho looked so happy at the idea of it, and Mingi had never left the country before. He’d never gone anywhere, actually. At least not anywhere for fun. 

Maybe this was just a game they were playing. Imagining a future where Mingi got to stick around and they could smile in photos posed beside the ocean. He liked the idea of it. It felt warm. “All right,” Mingi said carefully. He didn’t know how to be playful. “What would we do in Portugal?”

Yunho’s smile widened. “Walk around,” he said. “Eat good food. Maybe get you a tan.”

“A tan?”

“Yeah. You need sunshine.”

Mingi supposed he did. And maybe the scarring would be a bit less noticeable then, too. “Okay. But i’ve never even been on a plane.”

Yunho made a pshh sound. “We’ll change that.” He flipped a few pages forward. More pack photos, this time of them all bundled up in coats and scarves, a vast blanket of snow behind them. “We try and do a pack trip once a year, though sometimes we skip a year if we want to do a more expensive one. See? Last year was Switzerland.”

Every year. Mingi couldn’t fathom it. While he’d been trapped in the same room, in the monotony of fighting and eating and trying to sleep, the whole world had been moving around him. People like Yunho and the others had been traveling, loving one another, feeling good. It didn’t make sense: how someone could live a life so free of anguish. 

Trick, his mind supplied. Because a few nice photos from a vacation didn’t equal a perfect life. He knew this place was still hiding something. They had to be. Or, even worse, it was all true. They were happy. They were safe. But that sort of thing wasn’t meant for Mingi, and he’d never be allowed to truly have it. 

Yunho shut the book with a sigh. He slumped down a little against the pillows, yawned, and turned onto his side. “Mm. I missed my bed.”

Mingi flinched. “I can sleep anywhere, you can—”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I like you staying in here.”

Mingi nodded, unsure what he was meant to say. Carefully, he mimicked the way Yunho had shifted onto his side and curled up in the fetal position. Now they were eye to eye. Close, but not touching. Though they were in a bed, and he supposed that held certain implications. 

But most of the pack was not home…

“How are you liking it here?” Yunho asked. He reached over and took Mingi’s hand as he said it, pressed his scent gland to his nose as if there was anything there to sniff. “Would you tell me if you didn’t feel safe, or something?”

Fuck no. “Mhm.” Mingi’s eyes were glued to his own wrist, the destroyed scent gland that Yunho was pretending to enjoy. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” He rubbed Mingi’s wrist against his cheek, against his neck. A burst of fresh vanilla and warm sugar came with the motion. “I feel so good touching you.”

Mingi’s stomach twisted. “I don’t think you should say that.”

“Why not?”

Why did he always make Mingi explain it? He swallowed uncomfortably, and when he got the word out it was barely a whisper. “Hongjoong.”

“I’ve told you. He doesn’t mind. I’m not his.” 

“Oh.” Mingi felt hot. His stomach was cramping up, his crotch vaguely aching. This was bad. Irresponsible. Cruel, even. To let himself think he could have someone as perfect as Yunho. “Okay.”

“Can I scent you for real?” 

Mingi nodded before he could stop himself. Because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been scented for real. Let alone by an omega, an omega he actually liked. And he realized all at once that he’d take a punishment from Hongjoong, from the entire pack if necessary, just to get Yunho a tiny bit closer. 

For once Yunho seemed a bit nervous too. His eyes were wide and searching, his lip tugged between his teeth. He scooted closer, and their knees touched, their hands touched, their noses only a few centimeters away… He dipped down and nestled into the crook of Mingi’s neck, rubbed his cheek against where his scent should’ve been, then his nose, and finally his mouth. Not to bite, not to even tempt a bite. But just a careful brush of his lips and the tiniest, most delicate lap of his tongue. 

Mingi realized he was getting hard. He clenched a fist and grit his teeth to suppress a groan. But instinct was taking over, and he couldn’t help pressing closer into the source of Yunho’s addicting smell. He filled his lungs with it, his brain with it. His senses seemed to white out with the rush, replaced by a big surge of tingling and heat and a sort of easiness he’d never felt before. Like his whole body would just melt into a puddle. 

He should pull away now. He’d already gone too far. But instead he parted his lips and licked softly across Yunho’s scent gland, released a heavy sigh at the taste of him. 

It was perfection, like some crooked piece in Mingi’s chest had finally been righted. 

Yunho was a feeling he’d never expected to have. Like something in Mingi’s life had finally gone right. 

But, knowing his track record, that only meant it was about to be ripped away. 

♡

Yunho rarely felt the need to be settled. In fact, although he engaged in the disciplinary dynamic they’d agreed on, it wasn’t often relevant in his life. Wooyoung got smacked on a damn near weekly basis because he liked it, and sometimes San got roped into it with him and also found himself across Hongjoong’s knee. 

But Yunho? He couldn’t really remember the last time he’d been spanked. He considered himself pretty easy to get along with, and having clear communication with the pack was a second nature. Same went for work, which was peaceful. He’d never even been written up. 

He ate well, exercised three times a week, and felt generally happy. 

Going to the fighting ring with Wooyoung had been the worst thing he’d ever done, and he’d expected to be hit for it. But, yet again, his reputation and reasoning behind it had saved him. He just… didn’t need to be punished like some of the others did. And he didn’t like to be, either, so Hongjoong was generally hesitant, instead treating it as a last resort.

But Mingi had unmoored him. And for the first time ever Yunho understood what Wooyoung meant when he said getting spanked settled him. 

“I don’t know.” Hongjoong leaned back in his desk chair, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “You’ve never…asked for that.”

Yunho shifted in his spot on the couch, already hot with embarrassment. It was stupid to be this nervous, their dynamic wasn’t out of the ordinary for packs of their size. But, still. It wasn’t what he was accustomed to. “I just feel…” He shrugged. It was hard to describe. But although he loved having Mingi in the house, and he loved spending time with him, it’d also wound him up tight. He wasn’t used to this much stress. But now he worried constantly. Whether or not Mingi was hiding injuries, if he really trusted any of them, if he even liked being here. Yunho had tried to shove it down, but it’d begun coming to a head. 

Even at work, which was a place he usually felt focused at, his mind would not stop racing with thoughts of Mingi. 

“Explain more,” Hongjoong said gently. “I’m not gonna smack you unless you can explain what you need, okay?”

Yunho nodded. That was fair. “Wooyoung always says it makes him feel safe,” he said softly. “He says it gets him out of his own head.”

“Wooyoung’s also a bit more submissive than you, darling.”

Yunho dropped his eyes. He knew it was true, that he had a fierce independent streak that Wooyoung lacked. Still, though. He couldn’t take care of Mingi if his brain was so tangled up. “I know. I’m just really anxious.”

“And you think a spanking will help?”

Yunho shrugged. “Maybe?

That coaxed a light laugh out of Hongjoong and he set down the pen he’d been holding. “Well, thank you for letting me know what’s going on. Mingi has certainly added…a lot to the house. But I think he’s fitting in okay, don’t you?”

Yunho nodded, glad that he wasn’t the only one who thought so. “Yeosang likes him a lot, so does Wooyoung.”

“And the others will get there too, I think.” Hongjoong paused, just sort of stared Yunho down for a moment. Then he sighed. “All right. Up. But this isn’t a punishment, the point isn’t to harm you, okay? Sting, yes. I’ll make you feel it. But you tell me if it hurts badly or isn’t having the desired effect, understood?”

“Yes.” Yunho stood, positioned himself at the edge of Hongjoong’s desk. Most of the other’s preferred lap, but Yunho felt too tall and awkward there. 

“Obedient,” Hongjoong murmured, a slight air of surprise in his tone. “Lovely.” He pressed a firm hand between Yunho’s shoulder blades, guided him down. “No more worrying like this, all right? I’ll handle you.”

Yunho nodded, which earned him a warning smack to the ass. 

“Words, Yunho.” Hongjoong tsked, already sliding into the dominant headspace that often contradicted his every day personality. “You respect me more than that.”

Yunho swallowed, did his best to exhale out all his tension, to truly believe that Hongjoong would take care of it. And, to his own surprise, he did. Maybe it was the hand on his back, the commanding pressure. But he already felt a tiny bit better. “Yes, sir.” 

♡

Mingi only wanted a glass of water. 

After a week in the pack’s house he’d learned that nighttime was safe. Everyone was usually too busy to stay up on a weeknight, so past eleven pm or so the house was his. He’d venture out for some water or a small snack that wouldn’t go unnoticed, just something he could hide in Yunho’s room in case they ever locked him in there. 

That wasn’t the mission tonight, though. This time he’d woken up from a bad dream with a sandpaper tongue, tear tracks all down his cheeks. So, after pressing his ear to the door to double check for signs of life, he headed towards the kitchen. 

But he did not make it there.

Mingi hadn’t ventured anywhere close to Hongjoong’s office since their first meeting, and he hadn’t intended to return. But the light under the door made him pause, because it was already nearly midnight. 

He took a step closer, away from the kitchen. Just to listen. To make sure the pack wasn’t having a meeting in there, wasn’t deciding to send him away. If that was the case he needed warning. He needed to brace for it. 

But as he neared he didn’t hear any voices, instead a funny, repetitive noise. It took him a moment, because it was out of place here, before it clicked in his brain. It was the sound that rung in his ears when Handler slapped him. 

Mingi’s body went cold. Instinctively, he curled forward, shrunk himself. Someone in that office was being hit. And usually when people were hit, people were angry. And anyone being angry meant he would be in pain. 

He took a small step backwards. He needed to get back to Yunho’s room, curl up in the space between the bed and the nightstand, cover his ears and wait for the anger to reach him, to hurt him. He needed—

He heard a small, defeated sniffle. Who was that? Wooyoung? Yeosang? One of the others? Mingi glanced behind him, making sure he was still alone in the hall, and then took a few careful steps forward. He sniffed just a little, but all he got at first was Hongjoong’s scent, his leathery apple-cider alpha smell. 

Mingi pressed to the door, trembling, and flinched as another hard slap landed. He sniffed again. 

Yunho’s vanilla, his sugar, was soured. The scent of an omega in distress. An omega in pain. 

For a moment Mingi just remained there, the smell burning his nostrils, his brain struggling to catch up with what his body had already realized. Yunho was in that office. He was upset. He was being hurt. 

Mingi shoved open the door. 

Yunho was on the desk, hands gripping the sides, tears in his eyes. Hongjoong above him, hand raised to strike him again. Mingi had been punished enough times to know what he was seeing. And he saw red. 

“Get off him.” 

It was like being in the ring all over again. Mingi’s body, some vicious piece of his brain, took the wheel. He lunged forward, tackled Hongjoong backwards. They hadn’t even reached the floor before he landed the first punch, his knuckles splitting brutally across Hongjoong’s cheek bone. 

Yunho was yelling. Words, maybe. Or just sounds. It didn’t matter.

It was muscle memory. One fist at the throat — pin. The other cocked back — swing. He was a good fighter. He’d been born for this. Born to attack and to harm and to bloody. Born to protect his omega. 

Footsteps thundered down the hall. The pack. 

Mingi abandoned Hongjoong on the floor, instead grabbed for Yunho, crowded him into the corner of the room, shielded him with his own body. “Mingi, no—”

“It’s okay,” Mingi whispered harshly. He wrapped Yunho up best he could, so if anyone wanted to hurt him they’d be forced to get through Mingi first. “I won’t let him.”

“Mingi—”

A burst of scents joined them. Someone yelled something. Mingi didn’t hear any of it. His brain had tunnel vision, focused only on Yunho, on the feeling of his body balled up in his arms, the assurance that no one was harming him. 

Their faces were pressed together, their limbs twisted up. Mingi could see the tear tracks on Yunho’s cheeks, fear in his eyes. He squeezed him a bit tighter. “I’ll protect you.” He hoped that was true. That he could be strong enough.

Yunho gave a feeble shake of his head. Sniffed loudly. “It’s not like that, Hongjoong— Let me go, it’s—”

Mingi shook his head hard. He knew how it felt. When you were powerless, when you thought your only choice was to let someone hurt you, to just roll over and take it. But Yunho didn’t have to do that. Mingi was here. He’d keep him safe. Even if it fucking killed him. 

A hand touched Mingi’s shoulder, tried to pull him from the corner. He shook it off, braced himself for whatever attack came next. It’d take all six of them to get him to move, to get to Yunho. And even then, he’d beg them to take it out on him instead. There wasn’t any reason to hurt Yunho. Mingi could take it. He could take all of it. 

“Holy shit,” someone said.

“Get an ice pack!”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. What the fuck happened?”

Mingi suppressed a whine. Standing up for something went against everything that had been beaten into him. He yearned to release Yunho and start begging for forgiveness, beg them not to send him back. But of course they would. That or they would kill him. He’d attacked a member of the pack, the one thing Hongjoong had ordered him not to do. 

He was dead. Dead or returned. And he wasn’t sure which was worse. 

Yunho’s hand pushed up, stroked a careful touch along Mingi’s cheek. A tiny sliver of calm in the hurricane around them. “Can you let me go, please?”

Mingi shook his head. Maybe it was his long since crushed alpha spirit waking up for once, but the only thing stronger than his fear was the need to protect. And as long as Yunho was in his arms he was safe. 

“You…” Yunho swallowed, his eyes flicked over Mingi’s shoulder. They widened just a little, and he gave a tiny nod in someone else’s direction before refocusing on Mingi. “You did such a good job keeping me safe,” he murmured. “Such a…good alpha.”

Mingi made a pleased, groaning sound in his throat. Good alpha. He’d never been called that in his life. But Yunho wouldn’t lie, would he? He’d done good. He was a good alpha. It was like some dead, rotted piece of himself was being revived. Good alpha. Like he wasn’t totally bitched and ruined. 

“But I want to stand back up now, okay?” 

“No.”

“Mingi,” Yunho said firmly. “Settle down. Let me be with my pack. They won’t hurt me.”

How could he say that? When a few minutes ago Hongjoong had been hitting him? “I won’t let them,” Mingi corrected. He squeezed tighter, Yunho essentially in a ball between his legs, pressed against Mingi’s chest. 

“I know you won’t,” Yunho said. His voice was like butter, like a salve. He wrestled his wrist over to Mingi’s nose, pressed this scent gland there. “See? I’m not scared anymore.”

It was true. His scent was sweet again, loving and protected. Mingi felt like he could purr at the smell of it. “Keep you safe,” Mingi mumbled. He felt stupid with the smell this close, like a pup scent drunk for the first time. 

“Mhm.” Yunho pressed a kiss to Mingi’s cheek. “You’re a good alpha for protecting me. But I’m not in danger. Hongjoong isn’t gonna hurt me.”

“But he was.”

“It’s complicated, baby.” Yunho kissed him again. Every time his lips touched skin Mingi felt damn near delirious. “But I’m okay. And I’ve got such a good alpha, hm?”

“Yours.” 

“Yeah. You can be mine. Perfect alpha for me.”

Mingi was slipping. The tension in his muscles fizzling out, his grip on Yunho’s body weakening. All he wanted was to believe it, that he’d done something right for once. Kept someone safe. Was a good alpha. He inhaled another lungful of sugar and vanilla, his eyelids fluttering shut at the sensation. Keeping his omega safe. Holding him. Being good. 

“They really won’t hurt you?” he asked one last time. He was too scared to ask about himself.

“We won’t.” That was Seonghwa, he thought. As Hongjoong’s mate he likely had some say in the matter, so maybe his word was good. 

Reluctantly, Mingi scooted away from the corner, let Yunho unfold himself and climb to his feet. He risked one glance over his shoulder, but at the sight of Hongjoong — blood flowing from his nose and a gash on his cheekbone — Mingi curled right back up. Arms shielding his head, legs tucked against his torso. The best defensive position when it came to enduring a beating.

Because maybe they wouldn’t hurt Yunho, that part could be true. But he knew better than to hope they wouldn’t hurt him. He would be lucky if he survived the night. 

Then, as the others began to speak words his brain refused to process, Mingi hid his face further in his arms and started to cry. He’d liked it here. He really had. But of course he’d ruined it. 

He always did. 

Chapter Text

“I said it’s fucking fine.” Hongjoong pushed aside Seonghwa’s touch, something he just about never did. “Leave it alone.”

“It’s broken,” Seonghwa replied. His voice remained even, steady. The only one of them able to stay calm in a situation such as this. “Let me see.”

“No.”

“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa pursed his lips into a frown and pointed a finger at the counter. “Sit.”

At last, he did as he was told. Boosted up onto the kitchen counter and held still while Seonghwa carefully examined the damage. He wasn’t medically trained, but he’d always had a knack for healing. 

Yunho stepped a little closer, his thumbnail between his teeth, to watch the assessment. He’d already insisted he was okay, but he clearly wasn’t. After all, Hongjoong had never spanked him without aftercare, let alone been interrupted by a raging, angry alpha.  

Yunho sniffled. “I’m so sorry.”

“Quit saying that.”

“But I am. We agreed to keep the dynamic from him, I shouldn’t have—”

“Yunho — Ow.” Hongjoong pulled back with a sharp hiss as Seonghwa probed at his nose. “I said leave it.”

Seonghwa barely reacted. “And I said to stop whining. Behave, tough guy.” 

Hongjoong did his best to endure it, to let Seonghwa's careful, firm fingers explore the break in his nose, the split on his cheek. But his whole head felt ready to explode from the pressure, and his vision was blurred slightly on the side Mingi had swung at. Every time Seonghwa prodded at the swelling new spots appeared. 

Hongjoong knew he was small for an alpha, though it usually didn’t bother him. But the feeling of being so effortlessly pinned to the floor, of finding himself helpless, unable to even get his arms up to block his face… He’d known Mingi could be dangerous. That was why he’d been harsh with warning him. And yet he’d still been shocked by just how powerful he was. 

Even now, sitting in the kitchen getting patched up, his real wound was on his inner alpha. He itched to put Mingi in his place, to prove that he was still the head of the household, still capable of protecting his pack. But more violence wouldn’t be helpful right now, he knew that. 

 “I know he didn’t mean it,” Yunho said, like he’d read Hongjoong’s mind. “He just got scared.”

Hongjoong wasn’t in the mood to be talking about this. All he wanted was a painkiller and his bed. “Uh huh.”

“Sorta your fault, really,” Seonghwa said flatly. He soaked a rag in warm water, wrung it out over the sink. “You start spanking Yunho now? Really? When a territorial alpha is sleeping upstairs?” 

“I know, I know.” Hongjoong sighed, squeezed his eyes shut as Seonghwa began dabbing at the blood coating his mouth and chin. “I wasn’t thinking.” Except he had been thinking. Just not about Mingi. Because when a member of his pack came asking for something — especially quiet, reserved Yunho — Hongjoong was not accustomed to denying them. 

“Hold this to your eye.” Seonghwa pressed an ice pack to the swollen side of Hongjoong’s face. “As for your nose…” He stepped back, studied it for a moment, and then gave a sad sigh. “You had such a pretty nose.”

“Hospital?”

“That or I set it.”

“Then set it. As for you?” Hongjoong pointed over at Yunho, still anxiously lingering a few steps behind. “Go check on him.”

“But—”

“I’m fine. I’ve taken a hit before.” Hongjoong exhaled a dry little laugh, hoping he sounded casual. Sure, all he wanted right now was to take both omegas to bed, to curl up with them, scent them and restake his claim. But he could tell just by looking at Yunho, the way he kept glancing back down the hall… He wanted his mate. “Go.”

Yunho nodded, a slightly guilty smile spreading on his face. “Hope you feel better.”

Hongjoong gave a sarcastic grin in response, which then provoked the throbbing in his nose and restarted the bleeding from his cheek, earning him a heavy sigh from Seonghwa. And then, just as Yunho moved to leave the kitchen, Hongjoong added one last thing. “We’ll have a pack meeting in the morning.” 

Yunho paused. “About what?”

“About Mingi,” Hongjoong said. Wasn’t that much obvious? “Whether or not he stays.” 

♡

Yunho pressed his ear to the office door. “Mingi? It’s me.” He waited a moment, hoping for an answer. The rest of the pack had dispersed, sent back to bed, and left Mingi alone in the office to calm down. “I’m coming in, okay?”

He opened the door.

Mingi was still on the floor, though he’d sat up and buried his head against his knees. Tiny, now. Nothing at all like the beast that had tackled Hongjoong to the ground, had rained blows down on him with a terrifying strength and speed. Just a boy, now. He peeked up over his knees, his eyes bloodshot and puffy. “Yunho?” 

“Hi.” Yunho joined him on the floor, though he kept a little space between them. He did not think Mingi would ever hurt him, but being dragged into the corner and held there had rattled him. Served as a reminder that while they weren’t far apart in height, their strength was not comparable. 

Mingi sniffed loudly. “Is alpha okay?”

“Nose is broken. But he’ll be fine.”  

“Whatever he wants to do to me…” Mingi flinched, like it was physically paining him to get the words out. “I’ll take it. Anything.”

Yunho’s gut twisted. Of course Mingi believed they would beat him for what he did. “He doesn’t want to hurt you."

A fresh wave of tears struck Mingi and he gave a feeble shake of his head. “He should. Punish me for it. I learn from pain, I swear. I won’t do it again. Just let me stay, I’ll be good, I won’t ever cause problems again.”

Yunho didn’t want to think about what had to have happened in order to convince Mingi to think like this. Nor did he want to know what sort of punishments he was accustomed to. “We’re not gonna punish you, Mingi.” Yunho struggled to keep his tone calm, wishing he had Seonghwa’s ability to keep steady. “I promise.”

That seemed like the wrong answer, because Mingi collapsed back against his knees, gentle sobs shaking his shoulders. “Don’t—” He sucked in a loud gulp of air. “Don’t make me go back there. I can’t go back there.”

“We won’t, I—” 

“Then what?” Mingi looked up again. His bottom lip trembling, eyes shiny. "I broke alpha's rule."

Yunho exhaled slowly. Honestly? He wasn’t sure what Hongjoong and the rest of the pack would decide. Mingi was well intentioned, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d hurt Hongjoong. Could’ve killed him if he’d wanted to, or at least done permanent brain damage. A few more of those punches to the face… “I’m not sure.”

Mingi nodded weakly. “But why was he hitting…” He didn’t finish.

“It’s a lot to explain,” Yunho said. “But it was all consensual.”

“How?”

“We all agreed to it.”

“Getting hit?” Mingi’s hands made fists, his cheeks were flushed. “Why would you agree to that? You didn’t do anything wrong, you don’t deserve it.”

“I…” Yunho didn’t think there was a way to explain it right now. Not with this much raw emotion in the room, this much fear. Discipline was one thing for a person like Yunho, who’d been raised to have personal agency, to advocate for himself. But for Mingi? With all the baggage he had a simple settling spanking could never be just that.

They lingered in silence for a few moments. Mingi looked like death. His skin pale in some spots and violently flushed in others. His hands shook, his breath stuttered. 

Yunho scooted a bit closer so they were shoulder to shoulder. “I know it was really scary.” He itched to take Mingi’s hand, but wondered if it’d only make him tense up further, and resisted. “I don’t like what you did. But I appreciate you wanting to protect me. Really.”

“So you meant all that stuff?”

“Hm?”

“About…me.” Mingi glanced up, his eyes tragically hopeful. Now that they were closer, Yunho could feel the warmth coming off of him. Maybe the emotions were too much for his body to handle, were instead burning off his skin like morning dew under the sun. “That I’m… a good alpha.”

Yunho gave him a little nudge. “Of course.”

“But how can I be good? I… I messed up.”

“You didn’t know better.” The adrenaline was wearing away to exhaustion. Yunho tucked himself against Mingi’s shoulder, nestled against his neck. “You weren’t supposed to see all that. It would’ve freaked me out too, if I was you.”

Mingi gave a small nod. A silent tear left a track down his cheek, gathered at his chin and then dripped onto his shirt. “I just wanted to help.”

“I know.” 

“I really—” Mingi wiped roughly at his eyes with the heel of his hand. His knuckles were split open in two places. “I really am sorry.”

“It’ll be okay,” Yunho murmured, keeping his voice gentle. Mingi felt so little right now, so fragile. More than usual. “Hongjoong didn’t seem very mad.”

Mingi swallowed. “Really?”

“Really.” Yunho pressed closer against his throat, searching out his scent gland, hoping to settle him a bit further. “And—” He paused, inhaled slowly through his nose, right on his skin. Very faintly, but without a doubt, there was a smoky smell. Like a distant campfire, leftover embers. “Mingi.” Yunho pulled back grinning. “I can smell you!”

Mingi’s mouth opened, his hand automatically reaching up to touch his neck. 

“You’re smoky, I think. Like a fire. Oh my god, your scents coming back, you—” He stopped himself. Mingi wasn’t smiling. If anything he’d paled further, his hand now tightly clamped over the scent gland. “What is it?”

“I…” Mingi blinked slowly, clearly processing the news. “I used to smell like coffee before.” 

“But—”

Mingi shoved away from Yunho's touch and crawled back to the corner he’d huddled in before. “No,” he mumbled. “No no no no.” 

“What is it? Maybe it changed, or maybe—”

Mingi wasn’t listening. His chest heaved, one hand still clutched to his neck, the other now braced against the rug. “This can’t— But they—” He squeezed his eyes shut, made a pained whining sound between grit teeth. “They said it wouldn’t happen anymore, they said it was permanent, they said.”

“Mingi, what did they say? Look at me.” Yunho pushed up to his knees but remained where he was. “You’re okay. I’m here. What is it?”

“Nothing.” Mingi shook his head hard. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

The pieces began to slide into place. The heat coming off his body, the burnt smell, the fact that he looked sick. Sicker than normal, even considering the tremulous night they’d had. 

“Mingi,” Yunho said softly. “Do you think your rut might be starting soon?”

“Don’t have one.”

“I know. But a lot has changed this week, right? Maybe—”

“No.” 

Yunho couldn’t help but flinch at the harshness in his tone, though he understood why this was so terrifying. When was the last time Mingi had a rut? Years? And now they'd taken him off his suppressant cold turkey.

Not only were years of suppressed instincts flooding back into his system, but there was a physical strain of being in the same house as his fated mate, something Mingi likely wasn’t even aware of. His inner alpha had to be in agony, had to be fighting just to push through to the surface. 

Yunho rose on shaking legs. “I’m gonna go get some help, okay? Just stay here.” 

But that just drew another awful, agonized sound out of him. Mingi pawed roughly at his scent gland until it stood out red and inflamed on his throat. “‘M not,” he insisted again, more to himself than Yunho. “I don’t rut.”

“Mingi—”

“I don’t need a rut.” Mingi curled up on his side, the same way he had twenty minutes earlier. Arms around his head, legs pulled to his chest. “You can’t make me. You can’t make me. You can’t.”

Yunho left the room. Cruel as it was, he needed back up. Hongjoong and Wooyoung’s cycles were so regular, so aligned with their mate’s, that a difficult rut was nonexistent in their household. He didn’t how know this worked, what it would do to Mingi. Was it a good thing? A sign of him healing? Or would the shock of it hurt him even further?

Yunho had no clue. 

What he did know, however? This could not have begun at a worse time. 

♡

To Mingi the word rut meant betrayal. It meant his body wanting things he didn’t consent to wanting. It meant fiery, achey hotness under his skin. It meant losing grip on his senses, the one thing he’d always fought to keep. 

He’d only had one rut before being sold to the ring. And, as far as inaugural cycles went, it’d been all right. His birth pack had cared for him, encouraged him, brought him snacks and cold water. It’d been a weekend of embarrassment, learning about himself, idly jerking off until whatever hormones raging in him were satiated. He’d been barely sixteen, after all. Too young for a rut partner. Too shy to even really want one. 

The second rut had been much worse.

The ring put him on suppressants right away, partially because his scent had been so stubbornly miserable, but also to curb any territorial instincts he might develop. And he’d been okay with that. No point in having a cycle in that place, no point in being in touch with his inner alpha. He’d missed his scent, that was true. Because he'd smelled like home, like mornings with his family, like familiarity and warmth. But that was just one of many things he’d been forced to grow accustomed to. 

Until, at the age of nineteen, he’d had his first serious injury. Broke his collarbone, got taken out for a full two months. And then the suppressants had disagreed with one of his painkillers, and the ring’s medic took him off them for a week, just until the nausea stopped. Going off the pills cold turkey had sent him into a near instant rut. 

And once it’d begun it’d been agony. Burning up with fever, teary eyed and whiny and needy, wishing for things he couldn’t have — things he’d stopped wishing for years ago. Like softness and kindness and love. Not sex, he was sick of sex, he just wanted someone to love him. To push the hair out of his face and say he’d be okay. To hold him. To rub his back. Even if they lied about it — he wouldn’t mind. He just wanted to hear that someone cared about him. Anyone. 

But at nineteen he’d still be a low billed fighter, didn’t yet have the privileges allowed some of the veterans. So, although some of the other’s would’ve been allowed a partner, he was simply locked in his room with a bowl of water like a dog. Left to hump pathetically against his bed, sobbing as he wished the painful, terrible neediness in his body would go away. 

That’d been years ago, now, so he hadn’t recognized the signs this time, hadn’t even thought to look for them. He’d been too overwhelmed by the new house, the pack members. He’d forgotten what going off his suppressants could do to him. And, maybe without realizing it, had hoped that his extended use of them would have destroyed something in him. And that even without them he would never have to rut again.

But the moment Yunho mentioned his scent Mingi had known it was true. His emotions were white hot. His senses a bit too heightened. And having Yunho even at arm’s length was an eternity too far. 

He was emotional. He was territorial. He was horny. And it was too late to go back. 

Mingi stuck his hands in his armpits, trapped them there. He needed self control. Needed to be locked up by himself to ride this out before he hurt someone. A rut brought out the worst parts of alphas. Brought out the possessiveness, the ferocity, the sexual hunger. Things he wasn’t used to feeling, things he wasn’t allowed to feel. 

The door opened again. Yunho’s scent, Hongjoong’s scent. The instinctual part of him raised its hackles. His omega. Not for anyone else, not even the head alpha. His. 

“Mingi.” Hongjoong’s voice was firm. “Come here.”

He did as he was told, pushed up onto all fours and crawled the short distance to Hongjoong’s feet. “Alpha,” Mingi said quietly. “Forgive me. I—”

“Oh yeah.” Hongjoong looked to Yunho, ignoring Mingi’s words entirely. Even now, with his eye swollen shut and his nose bloody, he was unruffled. Like nothing that had happened in the last hour had truly fazed him. “See the haze in his eyes? Tomorrow he'll be totally gone.”

Yunho was gnawing on his thumb. “What do we do? I mean— Could it hurt him? After all this time?”

Hongjoong squatted down and got on Mingi’s level. The damage was even worse up close. Mingi had broken dozens of noses, and he’d felt ashamed for all of them, but this was a new sort of guilt. Hongjoong had showed him kindness, had let him into his home, let him into his omega’s bed… And what had Mingi given him for it? 

But to his surprise Hongjoong did not reprimand him. “When’s the last time you had a rut?” 

Mingi dropped his gaze. Easier to study the floor. Submission, he reminded himself. Even though for the first time in an eternity his inner alpha was loud again. No longer tamped down by his training, his beatings, his pills. For once out of its cage and demanding he assert himself. “F-Four years,” he said quietly, forcing his instincts to quiet. This was not the time to push back against Hongjoong's authority. “Five, maybe. I don’t know.”

Hongjoong gave a low whistle. “Explains a lot. And how was the last one?”

Mingi gave a little shrug. 

“You have a partner for it?”

“No.” 

“Did—”

“Hongjoong,” Yunho interrupted, frowning. “Don’t upset him more, clearly he’s—”

“This will be a lot harder if we don’t get some answers while he’s lucid, Yunho.”

Mingi flinched. He’d learned his lesson. He really had. And yet some idiotic piece of himself, probably a rut-sick portion, longed to lash out again at Hongjoong for speaking to his omega that way. Stupid. 

Hongjoong continued. “How long’s it usually last for you?”

“I don’t know.” A hot wave of shame cascaded over him. Just another way he’d failed as an alpha. Couldn’t protect anyone, couldn’t stand up for himself, couldn’t even have a normal rut cycle. The bare fucking minimum. 

“You don’t remember the last one?”

“Not really.” Mingi curled forward, wishing he could evaporate. “Sorry.” 

“Have you been able to knot normally on the suppressants?”

“I think so. Sometimes people would request it. I usually could, but not always.” Mingi glanced over at Yunho. Yunho. In his sweatpants and pajama shirt. With his messy hair and glasses. He didn’t deserve to hear all this, about how ruined Mingi was. 

If he knew half the things that Mingi had done…

“Jesus christ, all right.” Hongjoong turned away, a hand in his hair. “Get him upstairs, try and keep him comfortable. I’ll ask Hwa what to do. Okay?”

Yunho nodded but did not move. “Will he be okay?”

For once Hongjoong just shrugged. “No clue. Never heard of anyone on pills this long. We’ll just see how it goes.” 

“Alpha but—”

“Mingi,” Hongjoong sighed. “It’s one am. Just go upstairs. We’ll talk more once you’re finished.”

Mingi nodded. He could accept that. At least it meant he’d get to stay for a few days, at least until his rut passed. That was something.

“Here.” Yunho appeared, helped Mingi up to his feet. “Let’s get you comfy, okay?”

Mingi agreed and followed him upstairs. But he knew once his rut truly hit, once his brain was clouded over by instinct and hormones, he would need Yunho far, far away. 

♡

Conquer. 

Pin. 

Fuck. 

Once someone had specifically bought Mingi for a rut. Paid Handler extra for it. Must’ve liked the idea of dominating another alpha, particularly a fighter, and had even insisted Mingi resist best he could. Not that it’d been fair, of course. They’d blindfolded him and tied his hands behind his back before setting him loose in the ring.

The man had held Mingi’s face down in the sand when he’d pinned him. The grit had mixed with blood in his mouth as the knot had been forced inside him. Three times total. Took all night. Whole time he’d bragged that this would be the final straw in Mingi’s bitching, that he was basically an omega after this. 

Afterward the man muttered a halfhearted apology. Explained that it wasn’t something he could control. Then he’d left Mingi bleeding and curled up in the dirt. Handler had been angry, had charged the man a fee for being too rough. 

Mingi hadn’t felt angry — just empty. Quietly accepted that this was an alpha’s nature — his nature. If not for the suppressants he’d be out of control, too. That’s what people always told him, anyways.

Which was why waking up the next morning aching and hard terrified him. He couldn’t be like this. He couldn’t lose control.

He rolled over onto his belly, tried to pretend like it wasn’t happening. Like his whole body wasn’t on fire, like the friction of the mattress on his cock wasn’t forcing a pathetic whine up his throat. 

He felt like an animal, the thing everyone always told him he was. A brainless, cruel animal. And once Yunho saw it then he wouldn’t want him either. He’d finally understand what everyone else already knew.

He wanted to cry more, but he felt too dehydrated to produce a tear. So instead he rolled his hips a bit against the sheets, hating himself the entire time but knowing it was the only way to get this over with. Even though he hated it. Hated giving in to his body's wants. Hated anything to do with sex. Hated—

Someone stirred beside him and Mingi froze.

Yunho.

He’d thought the hazy memory of falling asleep together had been a rut fantasy. But — no. He sensed it now. Yunho’s scent was sleepy and a bit subdued, but there nonetheless. They were in the same bed. They’d been in the same bed all night. How had Mingi allowed this to happen? How could he have been so stupid? So careless? 

“How’re you feeling?” Yunho rolled over to half-spoon Mingi from behind, an arm and a leg casually tossed across him. 

“I’m fine,” Mingi managed. Because he was determined to be. If he just ignored it, if he refused to give in to his stupid alpha-needs, then it would all be okay. He just needed to hold out until Yunho left, try and keep his mind clear for a few more minutes… Except that when Yunho had gotten closer his scent had brightened. A happy, sugary smell. Like something fresh baked from home. And Mingi’s alpha was crying out for it, was yearning to claim it. Because that was part of rutting, he supposed. 

Conquer.

“You feel even warmer, do you think it’s fully hitting?” Yunho nuzzled his face against the side of Mingi’s throat, gently licked up across his scent glad. “Wooyoung’s gonna bring us some breakfast, are you up to eating?”

Mingi relaxed a tiny bit, the warm wetness of Yunho’s tongue making him lightheaded. It felt heavenly to be held like this, coddled, treated like a harmless pup. “I…” He swallowed. His throat hurt. “I’m really thirsty.”

“I can fix that.” Yunho sat up, twisted away, and then stuck a glass of water into Mingi’s line of sight. “Here you go, puppy.” 

Puppy. Mingi didn’t know what to make of that. But he sat up, drained the whole glass while Yunho watched. His hair was messy from sleep, his bangs sticking upright. His pajama shirt had a stretched out neckline, and now as he sat crisscross it slipped down on one of his shoulders. His collar bone was quite beautiful, Mingi realized. 

But he shouldn’t be allowed to see it, anyways. Especially not right now. It wasn’t safe.

Mingi handed back the glass. “Thank you. You’re really kind, Yunho.” He pulled his legs up, held them to his chest, hoping Yunho hadn’t noticed the rut-boner he had. “But I should be alone for this. I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

Yunho frowned, like he was genuinely confused. “Why would you do that?”

“I’m gonna lose control.”

“Lose control?” Yunho’s thumb went to his mouth, but he stopped himself before he could start chewing. Instead tucked his hand beneath the duvet. “Has that happened before?”

Mingi nodded.

Yunho’s eyes widened. “You’ve hurt someone?”

He shook his head.

“Someone hurt you?”

Mingi looked away again, posture deflating. He hated having to explain this sort of thing aloud. “I wasn’t always such a good fighter.”

Yunho’s expression fell. “Mingi, baby…”

A hot wave of neediness began rolling inside him. It hurt, and Mingi had to pinch his leg to avoid moaning. It was an awful mix of horniness and pain, like his body was boiling up with it, being consumed. “I really need to be alone.”

Yunho’s eyebrows scrunched down. He did not make any move towards leaving. “Who taught you all this stuff about ruts? We’re not meant to have our cycles alone. Being together helps a lot, even if it’s just cuddling.” 

“My instincts will—” Mingi grit his teeth. The fever was rising, he could feel a pressure at his groin. A knot wanting to form, a knot searching for something to ruin. “It’ll make me bad.”

Yunho’s frown deepened. “You believe that?”

Mingi nodded. He’d seen it with his own eyes. Whether from patrons or the handful of alphas at the ring allowed to be off suppressants. “Conquer, pin, fuck.” The words Handler had used with him to explain it. To explain why sometimes alphas were crueler than normal, why sometimes they made fucking him into a painful, terrible game. “That’s what a rut makes you do.”

“Mingi…” Yunho sat closer, picked Mingi’s hand up and held it between both of his. “I think that’s just something terrible people say to excuse the bad things they do.” 

Well… Yes. Mingi knew that. But it wasn’t an excuse, it was a reason. It was biology. The way he was. Maybe some alphas could control themselves — he believed it. But Handler always said Mingi was stupider than most, that he didn’t know how to listen, that without the rigid rules and beatings he would’ve been a danger to everyone around him. 

And wasn’t last night proof of it? Five days off his suppressants and Mingi had already hurt somebody.

Yunho continued, his pretty long fingers now tracing idle patterns on the back of Mingi’s hand, serving as a tiny distraction away from the pain. “So… you’re saying if I stay for your rut you’re going to rape me?”

Mingi’s entire body went rigid. “No. I wouldn’t ever, I’m—” He stopped. Because that was what he feared, he supposed. That he’d do to Yunho what so many people had done to him. But the idea of it, of hurting Yunho that way, of making him cry and beg— “I don’t want to, but they always said— I think—”

“Listen, please.” Yunho’s hand moved to cradle his face, his thumb rubbing across Ming’s cheek. It felt so good, so warm and comforting, that Mingi could not force himself to pull away. “Ruts are intense, that’s true. But they can’t make you do something you don’t want to do. Hear me? Hongjoong and Wooyoung have never assaulted anyone in this house.”

Mingi gave a feeble shake of his head. It just couldn’t be true. “But your smell is making me feel crazy, It’s—”

“You’re allowed to want, that’s totally normal.” For emphasis Yunho stuck his wrist right under Mingi’s nose, smiled a tiny bit when Mingi’s eyes fluttered shut, when he slumped down against his shoulder. 

Yunho’s smell alone made the ache subside a little, made the heat a touch more bearable. Somewhere deep in him his alpha was yearning for more of this, to wrap Yunho up, to inhale him and never stop. And — to Mingi’s surprise — it didn’t seem to need anything else. He just didn’t want to be alone. 

“See?” Yunho whispered gently. He leaned forward and pressed a little kiss to Mingi’s nose. “Me just being here is gonna make the rut a ton easier. Because if your instincts know I’m safe, then you can rest easier.”

“But—” Mingi took another deep inhale, the sugary vanilla going right to his brain. He felt drunk on it. “But I need to knot something, I thought—”

“You don’t need to. It might last a bit longer if you don’t, but that’s okay. We can just cuddle for a few days. Watch some movies. Scent each other silly.” 

And when Yunho put it like that it sounded so nice. No pressure to fuck something or even touch himself. Allowed to just exist, to feel safe, to keep Yunho close and know for a fact he was here. “It can be like that?”

“Mhm. I’ll build us a little nest, too.”

A nest. Mingi didn’t think he’d ever been invited into one, but the idea sounded marvelous. All wrapped up in Yunho, in his arms, in his smell, in his bed. Like heaven. 

“Okay,” Mingi finally said. Keeping Yunho close terrified him, but he wanted more than anything to believe it was true. That he could keep control over himself, that he wouldn’t do anything terrible. He wanted to trust it. To trust he could be good for something other than damage. He reached out and touched a piece of Yunho’s hair, twirled the softness of it around his fingers. “I’d like if you could stay.” He swallowed, still wary of it all. “But only if it’s really okay.”

Yunho smiled, nudged his face against Mingi’s hand, then kissed his wrist. “Of course it is. And the others will be around. They’ll keep us both safe. I promise.” 

Mingi nodded. He liked the idea of that. Of being watched over. Of knowing for certain he would not be brutalized amidst his vulnerability, nor would he be sicked onto anyone else. 

Yunho gave him one final kiss on the cheek, felt his forehead, and then began working on the bed around them. Arranging pillows, blankets, the clothes they’d been wearing the last week.

And then, quietly, Mingi allowed one part of his inner alpha to come forward. Let it purr at the idea of his omega here with him. Safe. Close. Trusting him with a nest. 

Mingi did not want to be possessive, he did not want to be like the other alphas he had known. But, despite himself, one word came fiercely to the front of his mind as he wrapped Yunho back up into his arms. 

Mine.

He just hoped he'd be allowed to stay long enough to claim him. 

Chapter Text

Hongjoong wanted Mingi out of his house.

He knew Mingi had come from a terrible place. Knew his brain was confused. Knew he didn’t understand how to function in a place that was safe. He understood all that.

But it couldn’t change what had happened last night. Blood gushing out of his nose, down his chin, the vision gone from one eye. Hongjoong handled pain well, he always had, and yet it’d rattled him badly. And being seen like that, unable to stand up, unable to think straight…

Seonghwa had rushed to him, dropped to the floor, pulled Hongjoong close as he tried to assess the damage… Despite the haze of pain and the blurs in his vision, Hongjoong had seen clearly how terrified his mate had been. Seonghwa had been crying. Mingi had made him cry.

And he hated Mingi for it. For scaring the person he loved most in this world. And he didn’t cared if Yunho liked him, if he was traumatized, if it’d sort of been his own fault for doing something as stupid as spanking Yunho at a time like this.

He wanted Mingi fucking gone.

“This will sting.” Seonghwa dabbed a bit more antiseptic onto a cotton swab, touched it lightly to the split on Hongjoong’s cheek bone. They’d cleaned it yesterday, but the scab had come off in the shower, and Seonghwa was nothing but thorough. “I’m worried it’ll leave a scar.”

Hongjoong didn’t care about that. Instead took a small bite of the apple slices he’d brought up from breakfast, even though he knew Seonghwa hated when he ate in their bed. But he was injured, so he could get away with it. And apples didn’t really produce crumbs, anyways. “Will it make me look tough?”

“Maybe. Right now it just makes you look swollen.” Seonghwa resisted a fond smile. Even now, his eyes still puffy from crying last night, he looked cute. He always looked cute in their bedroom, particularly in the morning. He was so soft like this, when it was only them. “Did you check on Yunho yet?”

Hongjoong’s tentative good mood deflated again. The last thing he wanted to see was Mingi curled up in bed with one of his omegas.  “Wooyoung brought them breakfast.”

Seonghwa frowned. “Still. Check on them.” He pulled out a roll of gauze and tore a piece off. “Yesterday was scary.”

Scary. Sorry if it seemed insensitive, but Hongjoong wasn’t feeling all that empathetic right now. After all, he was the one who’d been attacked in his own home. “Agreed,” he said curtly, purposefully misunderstanding what Seonghwa was getting at. “We can’t keep him here.”

“Joong…”

Hongjoong ignored his tone. “We’ll find him someplace nice to go once his rut clears.”

Seonghwa didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Hongjoong knew what he was thinking.

They’d been on the same page last night: Mingi was too volatile to stay in their home. They couldn’t keep an alpha that was ready to fly off the handle at any sign of a threat. But then Seonghwa had woken up and his instincts had simmered out, his omega had begun yearning to help, to comfort. And then he’d mumbled something like he must’ve been so confused during breakfast, and Hongjoong had known immediately that he was too soft to make Mingi leave.

“Yunho would never forgive us,” Seonghwa said quietly. He took the last of Hongjoong’s apple slices, set the dish aside. “You were wild too, when we met. I gave you a chance. Trusted the feeling.”

“I never assaulted anyone.”

Seonghwa frowned, settled a hand on Hongjoong’s knee, rubbed gently. “Darling, please. You know if you thought someone was hurting me, you would’ve done the same thing.”

Hongjoong paused. That was true. For a moment he flipped their roles, imagined if some strange alpha had his mate pinned down, was making him cry. He wouldn’t have stopped to ask questions. He would’ve been blinded by his fury, because no one could hurt Seonghwa and live to walk away from it. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. He was too stubborn to give in, to admit Seonghwa had a point. “What if the ring comes looking for him? We can’t keep him locked inside forever.”

“We always knew that was a risk,” Seonghwa said quietly.  “But it’s Yuyu’s mate.”

Hongjoong huffed out a sigh. Truthfully, he hadn’t fully believed it when Yunho said Mingi was his mate. Surely that feeling had just been a deep empathy or concern, maybe sexual attraction. He’d sort of thought Mingi would be here for a week or two max, long enough so Yunho could realize he’d been wrong, and then he’d move on. But Yunho was only doubling down on the mate thing, and now Seonghwa was, too.

Omegas and their intuition, he supposed.

Seonghwa finished the bandage and stood. “Go check on them. Calm down a little. Mingi’s just hurting.”

“Star—”

But he cut Hongjoong off with a kiss and left the room.

For a moment Hongjoong stayed there, criss cross on their king sized bed, and stewed about it. His inner alpha was hurt, was insulted. He was supposed to be the pack leader, after all, and yet he’d gotten physically bested in front of the entire pack. Maybe it was immature or archaic, but his alpha was angry over it. His instincts felt white hot.

Still, he detoured to Yunho’s room on his way downstairs, knowing if he didn’t Seonghwa would give him a look. The door was already cracked, so he peeked inside like a stalker.

They were both asleep side by side, Yunho’s head on Mingi’s shoulder. They’d kicked the blankets off, and the room definitely smelled like a rut, but Mingi was so scentless that it didn’t bother Hongjoong’s alpha further.

He leaned against the doorframe, perplexed. For the first time since he’d come here, Mingi’s face was totally lax. No fear, no apprehension, and certainly no anger. His lips parted a little as he breathed, his cheeks pink, his hand loosely intertwined with Yunho’s.

Mingi’s shirt had been worked into the nest somewhere, likely Yunho’s doing, and his pale skin was on full display. His entire torso was mottled over with bruises. All across his stomach, his ribs. Some were old, sickly greens and browns. But a few looked newer, blooming purples and blacks. It must hurt just to breathe, to even lie there.

A pang of guilt prodded at Hongjoong’s gut.

Again, he forced himself to view this from Mingi's perspective. Tried to imagine living his life in fear, in constant pain. Constantly demeaned, violated. Used as other people’s play thing, little more than a slave to make somebody else money. And then he imagined coming here, to a real home, and realizing all over again how much had been stolen from him.

It was a miracle Mingi hadn’t given up entirely. That he was still trying at all.

And then Hongjoong thought of the way Mingi typically addressed him. On his knees. Alpha. Eyes down. Terrified. It must’ve taken all the bravery he had to stand up for Yunho last night.

Hongjoong turned away.

♡

Yeosang lingered in the doorway to Yunho’s room, Posy curled up in his arms. He didn’t know if he would be making it worse by coming closer, if his scent would make Mingi freak out. But the sun was coming through the window, and he and Posy always visited around this time.

He knocked gently on the open door. “Hey.”

Yunho and Mingi were curled up together in bed, the nest around them a big mess of blankets and clothes and pillows. Mingi laid shirtless with his face turned away, buried in the crook of Yunho’s arm, his hands making fists in the sheets beneath him. In contrast, Yunho seemed quite calm. One hand held a paperback half balanced on Mingi’s body, while the other scratched idly along his back. “Hey, Sangie.”

Yeosang released Posy, who beelined for the sunshine and hunkered down for her nap. “Is he okay?”

Yunho smiled just a little, his expression weary, and nodded. “I think so. He comes up for air every hour or so, scents the shit out of me, and then disappears again.” He set his book down, ran a gentle hand up into Mingi’s hair, combed through it carefully. “He’s not responding much right now.”

Yeosang carefully sat on the edge of the bed. “That doesn’t seem normal.” He spent just about all of Wooyoung’s ruts with him. He got incredibly touchy, needy, horny — but never just…gone. In fact, Yeosang didn’t think Wooyoung could ever lie this still during a rut. He’d always be humping something, whining for something, kissing someone.

Yunho nodded. “For anyone else, no. But this is his first in a long time, I think he’s trying to fight it.”

“Oh.” Yeosang had a vague understanding of what had happened two nights ago. He knew Mingi had lost it, had attacked Hongjoong, and then immediately starting rutting. Judging by the bags under Yunho’s eyes, it’d been quite the ordeal. “Are you doing okay?” He itched to reach out for Yunho’s hand, to snuggle up with him. But getting closer to Mingi, even alluding to challenging his current grip on Yunho, felt unwise. He’d seen the damage on Hongjoong.

“I think so.” Yunho tossed the book onto his nightstand. It was some non-fiction piece about airplanes. He was always reading boring stuff like that. “I’m just scared.”

“I bet he’ll be better tomorrow.”

“I know.” Yunho exhaled heavily. “I don’t think Hongjoong’s gonna let him stay, though.”

Yeosang felt cold. Kick Mingi out? It hadn’t even crossed his mind. Any violence Mingi had displayed had been in self-defense or in defense of Yunho. He wasn’t dangerous, he was terrified. Even now, shirtless in the bed, Yeosang could see a cluster of dark bruising on his side, on his shoulder. He’d barely begun to physically heal from the ring, let alone mentally.

“I vote he stays,” Yeosang said.

“It's Hongjoong's decision.”

“He’s just really protective. I bet if—”

Mingi stirred, gave a low moan. He shifted onto his side, looked up over his shoulder to squint in Yeosang’s direction. His face was damp with sweat, flushed from effort. “Yeosang?” he murmured. His gaze was vacant, unfocused.

Yeosang raised a hand in a stupid little wave. “Hi.”

Mingi’s eyes widened a touch. “Yunho?” He sucked in a sharp breath. “Yunho, I—”

“I’m right here.” Yunho carded a hand through Mingi’s sweat soaked hair, pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Mingi whined, leaned closer to Yunho, nuzzled his face against his shirt. It was omega-like, if Yeosang had to be honest. Or maybe he’d just never heard of an alpha with enough self-control to be like this during a rut. Even when Wooyoung abstained from fucking he still writhed around, touched himself, stuff like that.

“Try and sleep more,” Yunho said softly, hand now stroking across Mingi’s neck, just over his swollen scent gland. This nurturing, attentive side of him was new. He’d always been kind, responsible, but he’d never felt so much like an omega as he did right now. “You’re okay.”

“Hurts,” Mingi said.

“I know, puppy.” Yunho pushed a bit of the hair off Mingi’s forehead. “You’re doing so good.”

“Hot.”

Yeosang reached over and tugged the sheet off Mingi’s legs. “I could open the window?” he suggested. The room was stuffy, stunk of rutting and sweat.

“Just crack it,” Yunho agreed. “Sometimes he gets cold all at once.”

Yeosang nodded, stood and slid the window open just a few centimeters. The fresh air felt amazing. “Is there anything else I can do?” He knew Wooyoung had been supplying snacks, there were still a handful sitting on the nightstand. But Yeosang still yearned to help. He’d only exchanged a few words with Mingi, but he’d liked him right away. Anyone willing to leave the door open every afternoon for Posy had to be all right.

Yunho thought for a moment. Mingi had gone away again, his eyes shut, one hand gripping Yunho’s hip under his shirt, the other sprawled out across the mattress. It didn’t look particularly comfortable, but his breathing was even. “Just…” Yunho glanced down again at the boy now asleep on his stomach. He rubbed his thumb across his scent gland again, then tucked a chunk of hair behind his ear. “Tell Hongjoong he’s gotta stay, okay? He needs me.”

Yeosang nodded. They both knew Hongjoong had the final decision. They'd made him pack leader for a reason, and they'd all agreed to yield to him. But reminding Yunho of that wouldn't be helpful, right now. So instead he just smiled gently, like there was anything he could do to fix this terrible situation. “Sure, Yuyu. I can try.” 

♡

Hongjoong wasn’t sure if he should be thankful or not for the bruises. The swelling on his face had finally begun to recede after three days, he could see out of his eye again, but his face was still black and blue. Maybe it made him look tough. Maybe it made him look weak. He couldn’t decide.

Either way, it helped him fit in a little better in this part of town.

The fighting ring was housed in the basement below an old shipping warehouse. Hongjoong knew the area well, because once upon a time he’d been a teenager running drugs around here. He’d been so different back then. Scrappy, willing to do anything for a little bit of money, wandering the streets until the early hours of the morning just to avoid going home.

That was the Hongjoong that Seonghwa met. He wasn’t sure why he’d gotten a chance at all.

He nudged open the warehouse door, not surprised to see they were already setting up for the fight tonight. A handful of people milling around, a halfhearted bar in a corner, a crooked sign directing patrons downstairs. Just as it’d been nine days ago when they’d come to break Mingi out.

“You need something, little guy?”

Hongjoong didn’t react to the comment. “Who around here can I ask about the fighters?”

The man squinted a little, clearly sizing Hongjoong up, and then glanced behind him. “Take it up with Handler. He manages them.”

Hongjoong nodded, zeroed in on his target. The same man he’d tracked down a few weeks ago to ask about Mingi the first time. Mingi’s manager. Though owner seemed like a more adequate word, seeing how Mingi hadn’t agreed to being managed.

Just as he’d been the first time, Handler was incredibly unpleasant. Sneered in Hongjoong’s direction the moment he noticed him walking over. “Not you again. Some fucking nerve coming back here.”

“Yes, me again.” Hongjoong tipped his chin up barely, hating the head of height this man had on him. “I’ve—”

“No.” Handler held a hand out in pause, a grin spreading across his face. “Let me guess. Mingi’s not the whore you’d hoped for, huh? Here to beg I take him back?”

Hongjoong prickled. Handler had known, then. Had known this whole time that Hongjoong had been the one to steal Mingi away. “Not exactly.”

Handler shrugged, though his indifference felt insincere. He must want Mingi back. He just didn’t want to let on about it. “S’pose he did that?” He gestured to the bruises, shook his head and gave a light laugh. “He doesn’t answer to just anybody, you know. Took years to get him so obedient.”

“Answers to me just fine,” Hongjoong said firmly. “And I intend on keeping him.”

“What for?”

“Not your concern.” Hongjoong looked over his shoulder. The room had stilled a bit, and he got the feeling that every person in here was waiting for an indication from Handler. Was waiting to pounce.

Handler noticed this and smiled. Pleased. “All right, alpha. Now explain to me why I should let you? Why should you get to take one of my fighters and still walk out of here alive?”

Hongjoong felt himself slipping back into an old mindset. He was not scared. He was a fish returning to a familiar pond. And, once upon a time, his name had meant something in circles like this. “What’s he owe you? Does he even have enough good years left in him to pay it?”

“He’s stronger than he seems.”

“Physically, sure.” They both knew what he alluded to.

“A hundred million won,” Handler said finally. “Give or take.”

“How about thirty and I don’t cause you any more problems.” It hurt to say that number, but he managed. It’d be coming from his own savings. Not the pack’s account. His account. Because he didn’t want Yunho or Mingi or anybody to know what he was about to do.

Handler paused, visibly mulling it over. It was potentially a good deal. Mingi had been fighting for a while, he’d be exiting his prime soon. There was a chance he wouldn’t pay it off before getting either too injured or too psychologically damaged to continue profiting. On the contrary, there was a chance he could endure a few more years, thus giving Handler an opportunity to trap him into even more debt.

Another beat passed. Handler stared for a moment. “You got that kind of money?”

Hongjoong didn’t bother responding. He’d offered it, hadn’t he?

“And what if I say no?”

“Then I’ll be keeping Mingi anyways. And burning this place to the ground.”

Handler laughed. “How might you do that?”

Hongjoong wasn’t sure how there’d been any room for confusion, but he clarified regardless. “With gasoline. If I don’t walk out of here my pack lights you up.” Lie. He couldn’t have involved Seonghwa in something like this, he never would’ve approved. He didn’t understand that a ring like this had already paid off the cops. The only way to ensure Mingi’s freedom, their packs safety, was with money and violence.

For a long, heavy moment Handler held his gaze. Likely searching for a bluff. Hongjoong kept his cool, channeled a younger version of himself. A version that took risks and got into fights and made good on threats.

Handler shrugged. Like none of it mattered. “He’s been losing value, anyways. Cries too much. Sixty million.”

“I said thirty.”

“Forty.”

It would take almost half of Hongjoong’s savings. Money he’d intended not to touch. Dirty money earned from the worst years of his life. But it would make Yunho happy. Would make his pack happy. And, most importantly, it would make Seonghwa happy. And for that, no amount was too large.

“Fine,” Hongjoong said. “And you’ll leave him alone. Forever.”

Handler chuckled. “He really that good of a fuck? I never bothered to touch him.”

“Thirty five,” Hongjoong corrected. “For talking about him like that.”

“Christ, kid. Sure. Thirty five.” He looked Hongjoong over one final time. “I know you from somewhere?”

“Likely, yes.” He pulled his backpack off one shoulder, yanked the zipper. He made a show of first pulling out a switchblade, stuck it between his teeth as he rummaged around. Then, already organized in manila envelopes, increments of five million, he pulled out the money. Handed them over. Hongjoong smiled politely, flicked open the blade, and twirled it around a little as Handler counted.

Handler gave a curt nod. “All there.”

“Good.” Hongjoong re-shouldered his bag, though kept his knife out. It’d been years since he’d used it, but muscle memory was a crazy thing. Felt like an old friend in his hand. “Hope to never see you again.”

With that said, he turned and left. Part of him expected someone to intervene, to try something, to bother him. But they let him go.

He didn’t realize how fast his heart was beating until he got back outside.

Sometimes Hongjoong couldn’t believe who he’d become.

All this for a guy who’d broken his nose.

♡

It took three full days before Mingi emerged from his rut. Before his eyes cleared, before the tension left his shoulders. He’d fought it the entire time. Resisted touching himself, resisted grinding against the bed. The only thing he’d allowed himself, the only reprieve, had been Yunho.

Yunho had meant it when he’d told Yeosang they were scenting the shit out of each other. For three straight days Mingi clung to him, body quivering with effort, nose pressed to his wrist, his throat. He’d left a cluster of hickeys all across Yunho’s neck in his desperation. He didn’t mind, though. The feeling of his mouth, the brush of his warm tongue, had been addictive.

Besides. Yunho’s smell seemed like the only way to make the pain subside, the only way to get him to sleep.

The rut had confirmed two things in Yunho’s mind. First, Mingi was not dangerous. To maintain that level of self-control during a rut, his first rut in years… It was unheard of. To make it through without any knotting toys, without even any masturbation… Secondly, Yunho now knew without a sliver of doubt that Mingi was his soulmate. Three days in bed with him, knowing only his body heat, his hands, his mouth… Yunho’s heart was at ease. Some piece that had been incomplete before now felt whole.

He didn’t care what the pack said. He didn’t care if Hongjoong thought Mingi was too much of a risk. If they wouldn’t let Mingi stay then Yunho would leave with him. It’d feel like dying to leave his pack. It’d rip something out of him that would never grow back. But he would not let Mingi be alone.

The door opened, Mingi slipped through, a towel around his waist and his hair damp.

Yunho smiled, finished pulling the freshly washed duvet cover back up onto the bed, and sat. “Still feeling okay?” He beckoned Mingi closer, pressed a hand to his forehead. The rut fever was gone.

Mingi sat beside him on the bed, gave a tiny nod. “It’s definitely over.” Then he frowned, lifted a hand to touch gently at the bruises on Yunho’s neck. “I hurt you.”

Yunho grinned. “No, they’re good bruises.”

“But—”

“Speaking of,” Yunho reached a tentative hand out towards Mingi’s body, silently asking for permission. He hadn’t been able to focus on it during Mingi’s rut, he’d been too busy making sure he was eating, was managing sips of water. But now that Mingi was okay, had showered and had some coffee, he couldn’t continue ignoring the damage on him. “When did these happen?”

Mingi looked down at himself, lips parted in surprise. “Oh. I don’t know.”

How could he not know? “Can I touch them?” He got a nod in answer, so Yunho carefully felt along Mingi’s ribs, his stomach. The skin was warm, tender. The bruises were still so dark, even after a week. “Do they hurt?”

Mingi shook his head.

Yunho glanced up, met Mingi’s eyes. Personal space and shyness had disappeared between them after the rut. They’d spent all of yesterday skin to skin, chest to chest. But this was different, a whole new type of vulnerability. And he could feel Mingi fighting it the same way he’d fought his inner alpha.

“Puppy,” Yunho said slowly. He knew Mingi loved being called that, could feel him preen every time he did. “Can you be honest with me? I’m worried.”

Mingi’s hands went to the knot in his towel. Picked at a stray thread. A bit of water collected on the tips of his hair and then dripped onto his shoulders. “They hurt a little.”

“Is it normal? For them to still look like this?”

Mingi nodded. He pointed to his ribs, where the worst of the bruises were. “These have been cracked forever. The bruise doesn’t really go away.” His hand moved to his stomach. “This one’s been feeling better, I think. Happened the day you all got me. Handler kicked me.”

Yunho’s stomach rolled. He felt queasy. “Thank you for telling me. I think—”

“I don’t care about the bruises.” Mingi looked away, bit his bottom lip for a moment. His hands were trembling, spasming lightly in his lap. “I just— Did alpha decide? Is he gonna make me leave?”

“We’re gonna talk about it tonight. As a pack.”

Mingi’s face fell. Now that his rut was over he was back to being totally scentless, the smoky smell gone. Yunho missed it. It hadn’t shown his emotions, but it’d been something. Proof that Mingi was here, was real. “Okay.” He stood and crossed to Yunho’s closet, began pulling out some clothes for the day. “I’ll understand. I won’t be mad.”

“Mingi—”

“I wouldn’t want me either.” He shrugged. Like it didn’t matter. “It’s fine.”

♡

Mingi didn’t know where else he could go. His family wouldn’t want him anymore, they’d just send him back to Handler. He didn’t have any friends, any connections. No money, no skills. He hadn’t even finished school.

He’d figure something out. Somehow.

Mingi sat in the hallway outside Hongjoong’s office, Posy in his lap, and waited for their verdict. He couldn’t help but dream that this time might be different, that they’d look past the bruises on him, the violence. That they’d give him a chance, they’d want him.

He scratched the top of her head, smiled just barely when she began purring.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Even if he had to leave, even if he inevitably went back to Handler. At least he’d have this week to look back on. A time in his life where no fresh bruises bloomed across his skin, where he got to feel a tiny bit ordinary, where something as little and cute as Posy decided he was all right. Yes, he decided. Even though the idea of it made him sick. I’ll be okay.

He needed to be convincing about it. When Hongjoong told him to leave. He needed to keep his composure, because otherwise Yunho would be upset.

Mingi would pretend like it didn’t matter to him. He’d lie and say he had other places he could go, that he really wasn’t that scared of being all alone. I’ll be fine, he’d say. And he’d be convincing about it.

And he definitely wouldn’t tell Yunho that this had been the best week of his life, that in his bed, wrapped up in his arms, was the first time he’d felt safe in years.

It would be difficult. He expected it to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Because it felt like Mingi’s body had been designed to trust Yunho just on scent alone, like they were family, like they’d been made for one another.

He’d have to lie to himself, too. Pretend like none of it mattered. It’d be easier that way.

He’d loved it here. He really had. But he was just too ruined to stay.

The office door opened. Wooyoung stuck his head out, grinning, and ushered him inside.“Sorry that took so long.”

The pack was scattered around the office, which felt very small with eight people inside. Hongjoong and Seonghwa were behind the desk, Jongho, San, and Yeosang on the loveseat. Wooyoung joined them, collapsed across their laps and illicited a groan. Mingi yearned to join Yunho on the floor, to hold him there, but resisted. Instead he stayed standing, his eyes down, and willed himself not to cry when they told him.

Hongjoong began. “Mingi—”

“I’m sorry.” Mingi sniffled loudly, instantly giving himself away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. If you give me another chance I’ll be better.”

Yunho shifted on the floor. “Mingi—”

“I could go back on my suppressants,” Mingi insisted. This was his last chance. He was not above begging for it. “I could wear a muzzle. You could keep a lock on my door. Please — anything.”

The room was very quiet, now. Still and uncomfortable. Mingi supposed it was unappealing to see an alpha like this. Pathetic and teary. Humiliated.

“Puppy,” Yunho murmured. His voice was watery. Mingi had already failed. Had already made him upset. “We—”

“I consent to you hitting me, if that helps.” Mingi flinched at the idea of it, of Yunho seeing him suffer. But he meant it, nonetheless. Anything Hongjoong wanted to do to him. Anything at all.

“No one’s going to be hitting you,” Hongjoong said slowly. “And you’re not going back on suppressants. I forbid it.”

“Oh.” Mingi clasped his hands together. His whole body was trembling, still weak from the rut, emotionally wrung out. “Yes, alpha.”

“And we’ve talked it over,” Hongjoong continued. “It was unanimous.”

Mingi looked up. At last, he saw the looks on their faces, scanned the pack. No one seemed angry with him. Sad, maybe. But there was something else, a barely suppressed excitement, as if—

“We’d like if you stayed.”

Chapter Text

13

“Hey, little wolf. What’d they do to you?”

Mingi stumbled over to mother, uncoordinated after his growth spurt, unbalanced with his new lanky body. Same went for his brain, his emotions. It felt like something else had taken the reins in his mind. “They—” He sniffled hard, hating that he was crying. Thirteen and he still cried. Shameful. “They didn’t mean to.”

He sunk onto the stone bench beside her, feet splayed out in the lush grass. The garden was her domain, filled with flowers and veggies and herbs for the pack. Mingi couldn’t count the number of times he’d found her here, relief already seeping into his bones just from the smell of good soil, of greenery.

She took him by the chin, inspected him carefully. “Accident,” she echoed back, her tone a bit doubtful. “And how’d they accidentally split your lip?”

Mingi’s eyes fell. It hadn’t been so much of an accident, not really. But whining about it to mom was humiliating, it’d just give his brothers more ammunition. It was bad enough that he was the only one unpresented, that they could still taunt him and say he’d turn out an omega. “Pushed me,” he managed. Not a full lie. Though the better word would’ve been shove. “Without meaning to.”

“Mhm.” She pulled a cloth handkerchief out of her pocket, used it to dab at the blood. “I’ll tell them not to be so rough with you.”

But that was the last thing he wanted, to be seen as a crybaby, a momma’s boy. “No— They won’t again.” But they would again, because he knew it was in their nature. Two alpha boys, the pride of their father, of their pack. Ever since they’d presented they’d been allowed to run wild, seemingly able to do no wrong.

Mingi just had to hold out. His growth spurt was already looking promising. In a few years — two if he was lucky — he’d be an alpha.

And then no one would be able to push him around anymore.

16

Mom wouldn’t even look at him when they said it. But his sanity hinged on it. On her looking up. Acknowledging him. Giving some sort of indication that she was not all right with this.

But her eyes remained stubbornly averted.

“Presented a month ago,” father said. “Rut went fine. Never had any health problems.”

The stranger nodded, looking Mingi up and down as he did. His eyes were invasive, his gaze somehow seeing right through to Mingi’s bones. He began to walk a slow circle around him. “He do what you say?”

“Always.”

Mingi swallowed. Still, mom’s gaze was down. How could she let this happen? How could she just sit by? He felt delusional, like he’d hallucinated his childhood and all of her kindness to him. Wasn’t he her little wolf? Who would sit in the garden with her? Neither of his brothers cared about the birds, about which kinds sung which songs.

The man poked Mingi in the side, felt his arm. “I want one of your older ones.”

“No.”

“This one’s not a fighter.”

Surprisingly, Mingi found himself nodding along with this strange man. He wasn’t a fighter. He’d never been. He didn’t like violence or hurting people. Maybe as defense, sure. He’d fight anyone to protect his pack. But, even though he’d been kept out of the room while this man and his father discussed their deal, he got the feeling he wouldn’t be wanted for that sort of thing, for defense.

Father did not budge. “He can be. He’s young. Make him into what you want.”

Mother released a small, strangled gasp and hid her face in both hands.

Mingi glanced behind himself, at his brothers. They knelt respectfully off to the side, for once not snickering behind hands, jabbing one another in the ribs. They were stoic, stunned. Because even though they’d always picked on him a little, he was still pack. Right? Head alpha — their father — wouldn’t just send Mingi away. Would he?

The stranger considered it for another moment. Then he lifted a hand, gestured vaguely at Mingi. “May I?”

Father nodded.

The fist came out of nowhere. It cracked across Mingi’s jaw, sent him crumpling down to his knees. Pain like he’d never imagined, a terrible ringing in his ears. One of his eyes went blurry; there were spots bursting in his vision. Metallic blood. He’d bitten his tongue. And when he tried to open his mouth a little, just to test and see if his jaw was broken, he found one of his teeth loose.

He’d been hit before. In tussles with his brothers. Maybe a backhand from his father when he spoke out of turn. But even that had a certain level of fondness behind it, and never felt truly cruel.

But now?

Slowly, braced against his hands, Mingi looked upwards at his attacker. The man merely watched. He looked bored with it all.

Mingi swallowed. He could hear his mom crying. “Why—”

A kick to his stomach. It knocked the wind out of him, had him doubling over, fighting for air while simultaneously heaving. Ugly, messy gags. Like his stomach was trying to escape him, like—

The man knelt, took him by the hair, and struck him across the face. Open palmed. A loud, embarrassing slap.

Mingi twisted away onto his ass and pushed away as fast as he could. “Stop—” His back hit the wall. The man advanced on him. No one stepped forward to intervene. “Please, I didn’t—”

Again, the man got on his level, pulled his hand back for another blow.

Mingi couldn’t take it. Not in front of his mother, his brothers. He refused to be beaten like an animal. Something woke up in his chest, something instinctual and old. He’d presented a month ago, but he’d never really felt like an alpha. But now, all at once, that side of him reared its head.

He lunged forward, tackled the man at the waist and back onto the floor. He couldn’t see right, he couldn’t breathe, but he swung. Balled his fists up and attacked best he could, aimed for the face, the chest, anything. He just—

The man blocked his next swing, snatched his wrist in one hand, and jabbed a fist into Mingi’s windpipe. He kicked Mingi off of him, got back up to his feet, and dusted himself off. And then, while Mingi fought to get his throat open again, certain it’d been fully crushed, the man settled his foot in the middle of his back, right between his shoulder blades. He pushed, guided, and forced. Until Mingi was flat on his stomach. Conquered like the baby alpha he was.

He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see his mother anymore.

“Guess I’ll take him,” the man concluded. He laughed, moved his foot to Mingi’s head, ground his face into the woodgrain. “Got a little spirit after all.”

20

For the first time in four years Mingi ventured out beyond the ring. They’d forgotten to lock his door after his daily conditioning. He hadn’t made a plan, hadn’t snuck out any food or shoes or anything. But a moment like that rarely came. So he hadn’t thought it through, he’d just slipped down the hallway and ran. Tried doors until one brought him upstairs, then tried a few more until he found daylight. Daylight and — he’d faltered. Snow. Swirling down from the sky, gathered up in dirty piles along the street. It’d been so long since he’d seen it, since he’d had a concept of the seasons, that he’d lingered for a breath too long just staring.

And then, though all he had on were socks, a pair of sweatpants, and a t shirt, he left. Took off down the sidewalk, knowing nothing but that he had to put as much space between himself and that place as possible. He couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t want to fight, to hurt.

He ran until he lost his breath, then slowed to a brisk walk. One of his feet was bleeding, his toes were numb. He tucked both hands under his arms, ducked his head down to try and escape the wind. And slowly, as the adrenaline of running began to wane, he realized he truly had nowhere to go. It was freezing out. He didn’t even have shoes. He didn’t know what part of the city he was in. The sun was beginning to set.

Mingi looked over one shoulder, half expecting Handler to be catching up to him. But there was no one, just a few pedestrians giving him funny glances. Would anyone be willing to help? If he asked?

He continued, waited until someone seemed somewhat approachable. He settled on a young woman walking with a toddler. He trusted mothers, right? Not his own, not anymore, but he once had.

Carefully, wishing he wasn’t so big, wishing his eye wasn’t so bruised, he stepped closer to her. He hadn’t even opened his mouth before he saw it in her: Fear. Her eyes went wide, she scooped up her child, held them close. Like Mingi would hurt her, like he’d hurt a little kid.

“Excuse me,” he tried. “I’m—”

She shook her head, took a few steps backwards. “I don’t want trouble.” Her voice shook.

He retreated again. Let her pass. He didn’t want to be scary, he didn’t want to make someone react that way. It was so strange, because he did not feel like something to cower away from. He still felt so small, so weak. But to people other than Handler he did not appear that way.

He wondered, though it was pathetic, if he managed to contact his family they’d take him back. Even though they’d sold him, used him as an easy way to pay off debts. Even though he’d always been father’s least favorite son. Even though he wasn’t half the alpha he should be. Maybe they’d let him come home.

But Mingi didn’t have a phone. He didn’t know which direction to walk in order to find them. And they’d likely just dump him back at the ring, anyways.

He sniffled. His nose was running like a faucet, dripping onto his thin shirt.

For a few more minutes he stumbled along, half heartedly trying to ask those passing by for help, for directions, for a phone call. But no one stopped long enough to answer. They made faces at his injuries, shied away from the muscle on him, the crude splits across his knuckles. He looked like trouble. No decent person would risk interacting with him.

And so, unsure what else to do, Mingi found a quiet alleyway and sat against the wall. The cement stole what little warmth he had left, but he didn’t care. Better to die out here. Better to freeze by himself, at least beneath the sky, then endure even one more fight.

Night fell. He curled up best he could. He couldn’t feel the parts of him touching the ground. One of his socks was red with blood, and the blood was on its way to freezing. Slowly, humiliated, his mind strayed. Just about now the fighters would be called to the mess hall. The food, though it’d been a rotation of overcooked meat, unsalted vegetables, and too-small portions of rice, had at least been hot. He was hungry. He shouldn’t have run without some food in his system.

Maybe if he found a restaurant he could look through their garbage.

Though standing, walking even a step further, felt unthinkable. He just wanted to remain here, curled up and cold, until he fell asleep.

Something terrible like relief struck him when Handler appeared, shone a light in his direction. “You having fun?”

Mingi looked away, ashamed. He couldn’t even cry about it. He was too cold, too wrung out, too embarrassed. He’d thought he could run from that place. Without any money or shoes or anything. Like he was a stupid child who didn’t know better.

Slowly, Mingi pushed himself up to stand, took a single step closer.

Handler put out a hand, stopping him. “S’pose you wanna come back?”

Mingi nodded. Death was easy to speculate about, to consider. But when it really came down to it all he wanted was to be warm again. To not be alone.

Handler released a barking laugh. “That’s not a very polite way to ask.”

Mingi winced. Slowly, though his joints felt frozen solid, like bending them again might make him break, he lowered himself down to his knees. Folded over himself, leaned against his forearms. The alley was dirty, the ice and pavement beneath him sharp. “Please,” he managed. Begging like this, to be brought back to a place that had done nothing but torture him, was unbearable. He felt some piece of him, maybe the instincts within him, crack. “Please, Alpha.”

24

We’d like if you stayed.

Yunho said it was true. Said it wasn’t a trick, there wasn’t some catch. The wouldn’t be locking him in the attic or something, they weren’t going to make him do anything to earn his stay. Well, that wasn’t fully true. Yunho said once he was settled in they would add his name to the chore chart.

But Mingi’s nervous system could not accept it. Though he went to sleep with Yunho, their bodies slotted together, their hands idly touching. Though he woke up the following day and ate breakfast normally, let Wooyoung explain in depth his statistics homework, his body would not settle. A never ending prickle on the back of his neck, a tension in his muscles as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

Because there’d always been something. Nothing was free. Nothing was easy. Not for him.

“Mingi?” He looked up, woke up out of his thoughts. Yeosang was staring at him with a puzzled expression. He gestured his switch controller. “You gotta pick someone.”

Right. Their game. It was Saturday. Everyone was home. Wooyoung had roped him into playing Mario Kart.

Mingi tried to focus, but there were too many characters to choose from, and he didn’t remember who he’d liked before when he’d been a teenager. This seemed so basic to everyone else. Having a preference. Playing a game. He should be able to do this. He should–

“If you like a heavy weight car, Bowser is fun,” San said. He smiled politely. No pressure. No irritation.

Mingi took it for what it was: a way out. He gave a tiny nod, picked Bowser, and they continued.

He felt a monster in a place like this. Like he’d tricked this entire pack into thinking he was someone worth keeping around.

“So, Mingi.” Wooyoung glanced over mid game. He was practically upside down on the couch, his legs tossed up over the back of it, his head in San’s lap. “What’re you gonna do now? School? Do you want a job?”

Mingi tensed. He didn’t know. How was he supposed to know? Was this normal? To just move on from what had happened to him? Get a job, go to school, play video games with the pack? His pack? Was that what they were now? His pack?

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. He tried to remember if he’d had dreams as a teenager, before he’d begun fighting. He couldn’t recall. The only dream he’d ever had was to escape that place. And, pathetic as it was, he hadn’t expected it to come true. The freedom he’d always envisioned had been death. 

It was almost scarier this way. To be normal again.

“Hm.” Wooyoung squinted at him. They were in between races now. Mingi had come in last. “I could see you as a bouncer at a club.”

“Why would he want to do that?” Yeosang flicked Wooyoung’s shin. “You should work in a coffee shop, Mingi. You like coffee, right?”

Mingi shrugged.

“You don’t have to work,” San said. “Figure out what you’re actually interested in first.”

And then all three of them looked at him. Waiting. Like he was supposed to know what being interested in something actually felt like.

Mingi opened his mouth. He needed to say something normal, something casual. The way they spoke to each other — without thinking about it first. But for so long talking without thinking meant getting hit, and then he’d stopped doing it all together. His brain didn’t work that way anymore. “I—” He sucked in a breath. “I don’t—” That last breath didn’t work, his chest was tight, was begging for oxygen. He took in more air, a big stupid gasp through his mouth that made Yeosang frown. “I—”

“Hey.” Yeosang reached over, touched his hand lightly. “You’re okay.”

Mingi stood, his controller falling from his lap and clattering to the floor. “No, it’s—” He touched his chest, grabbed at his throat. Like someone was sitting on him, was physically constricting his lungs from taking in a full breath.

He turned and walked away. Left the three of them in the living room, beelined for the bathroom where he knew Yunho was showering. He knocked hard. “Y-Yunho?”

“I’ll be a few minutes, why don’t you—”

“Can I come in?” Mingi looked over his shoulder, half expecting them to be following him. He couldn’t even answer simple questions, couldn’t even have an opinion, couldn’t even— He pushed open the door, slammed it shut behind him, and turned the lock.

Yunho peeked his head out from behind the shower curtain, wet hair plastered to his forehead. “What’s going on?”

Mingi just shook his head. There wasn’t an explanation. Instead he slid down to sit against the door, curled himself up best he could, and buried his face away against his knees. There wasn’t anything to explain. He couldn’t verbalize it if he tried. All he knew was that his body hurt and he didn’t want to talk about things like interests and jobs. He didn’t want to be normal, didn’t want to pretend like he could be.

They were letting him stay. God, he was grateful for that. But how would he make a life here? Would he always be different? Would he always be like this?

The water stopped. A moment later Yunho joined him on the floor, a towel around his waist. “Minki,” he said softly. Even with the steam, the smell of his floral body wash, his vanilla sugar scent was overpowering. Safety. Security. Personhood. “What is it?”

Mingi shook his head, kept his face tucked away. There wasn’t anything to talk about.

“Aw, baby.” Yunho coaxed him closer, wrapped an arm over his shoulders. “It’s a lot, right?”

It was. He didn’t want to be like this. Before had been one thing, when staying here had felt fragile and temporary, but now they were saying it was permanent. Saying he could stay forever. And for the first time in years Mingi was allowed to relax, to maybe even try and heal a little, only to discover he didn’t know how. All he knew was paranoia. Anxiety.

It’d be easier for his system to understand if Hongjoong had hit him. If he had punished him in front of the entire pack, had told him his place here would be conditional on his behavior. Mingi could cope with that, he could understand it.

But he’d attacked their head alpha and they’d done nothing to hurt him for it. They were letting him stay.

“I—” He managed a full breath. “I feel so stupid.”

Yunho leaned his head on Mingi’s shoulder, his wet hair dripping onto his shirt. “Why?

Mingi shrugged. No way to explain it. He didn’t know anything. He didn’t know where in the city they were, didn’t know what normal life was supposed to feel like, and he definitely didn’t know how to exist here without any sort of payment. It just didn’t add up. He’d spent eight years in a world that at least made sense. Winning fights got him better privileges. Losing fights got him beat. Easy. Simple. Nothing was free, everything was earned. He’d been at the bottom of the hierarchy, but at least there hadn’t been any confusion about it.

But now this place…

“That’s okay.” Yunho found Mingi’s hand, rubbed his wrist against his throat idly. “We’ll figure it out. Even if it takes forever.”

Mingi looked up. His eyes were watery. He knew he looked pathetic. “I don’t get why you all even want me.”

Yunho smiled. “Because we like you.”

Mingi waited for something else. For the but. Only it didn’t come. Yunho just kept smiling, rubbing their scent glands together, and letting the water drip off his hair.

♡

In typical pack procedure, anything Seonghwa wanted done correctly he would have to do himself.

He gave it a week. Plenty of time for Hongjoong to explain it to Mingi, plenty of time for Wooyoung to piss someone off and get paddled. But it never happened. Mingi settled in best he could, though he spent the majority of his days in he and Yunho’s room, still kept quiet at pack dinners, still avoided Hongjoong’s eyes.

And now Seonghwa couldn’t take it anymore. It felt like a big looming presence. If Mingi was staying then he deserved to know, otherwise it might scare him again.

So, on a Friday morning exactly one week after they’d told him he’d be staying, Seonghwa found him in the kitchen. Just the two of them, early enough that no one else had gotten up. Mingi, maybe in an adorable attempt to be helpful, had begun waking up early to start the coffee pot.

“Morning,” Seonghwa said from his spot at the counter. He already had a mug in his hands, taken with cinnamon and a splash of oat milk.

Predictably, Mingi startled. Recoiled a step, glanced around like he was being ambushed. But then his eyes settled on the coffee pot, on the mug he usually picked set out beside it. “Didn’t you like how I made it?”

Seonghwa nodded. “Oh, you’ve got a real touch for it. I just wanted to see if we could chat for a minute. Is that okay?”

Slowly, Mingi managed a nod. He poured himself a cup, added some sugar and cream, and then lingered on the opposite side of the kitchen. “Thank you,” he whispered. “If I did something… I appreciate you warning me about it, maybe I—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. No one is upset.” Seonghwa smiled, even though his heart was cracking, and took a sip. “I wanted to fill you in on some stuff. About us. Since you’re part of the family now, okay?”

Mingi’s hands were shaking so badly that a tiny bit of coffee splashed over the side of his mug. But he nodded.

“Two weeks ago,” Seonghwa began slowly, “did Yunho explain what was going on with him and Hongjoong?”

“Not really.”

Seonghwa fought to keep his expression calm, though internally he was pissed. Really, Yunho? “What’s the word discipline mean to you?”

“Pain.”

“Oh. Okay, that makes sense.”

Mingi stared.

Seonghwa exhaled slowly. He wasn’t sure how to navigate this. Even Yeosang, who’d also joined their pack with a plethora of issues, had been somewhat familiar with this sort of dynamic. But with Mingi they were starting from scratch. “But the way we see it, discipline is something we all agree to. We all want to support each other, stay healthy, be a functioning pack. That’s why we have our rules, right?”

Mingi continued staring. Once he realized he was supposed to respond he gave a tiny, noncommittal nod.

Seonghwa pushed on. “When we break a rule we have punishments. Stuff we all agreed on ahead of time.”

“Getting hit,” Mingi supplied.

“Sometimes, yeah. But it’s not supposed to be overly painful. Does that make sense? It’s more to help us remember, and to help us feel better.”

Mingi frowned at that. “How would it ever make you feel better?”

Seonghwa knew he and Mingi had not spent much time together. That’d been intentional, because he knew as Hongjoong’s mate he was viewed as claimed, totally off limits. But all at once he wished they were closer, wished he could have this conversation with Mingi in his arms. Anyone else and he would’ve pressed a kiss into their hair, rubbed a soothing hand down their back. But Mingi was not ready for that. Not from Seonghwa.

So, he focused instead on keeping his tone steady. “A few months ago I said some stuff to Jongho I didn’t mean. The guilt felt terrible, even after I apologized. So Hongjoong spanked me. It helped.”

Mingi’s eyebrows scrunched. “Spanked?”

“But if I hadn’t been okay with that, he wouldn’t have. Maybe instead I would’ve done some of Jongho’s chores, or thought about what I did in the corner. Stuff like that. It’s not meant to injure us. At the very worst it’ll sting for a few days. But that’s it.”

“If it doesn’t injure you, why bother following the rules?”

Seonghwa smiled carefully. It was a good sign that Mingi was asking questions. That he felt safe to do so. “Because we love each other.”

Mingi took a gulp of coffee, his eyes far away.

“I know it sounds really weird to you,” Seonghwa continued, “so I was wondering if you’d like to watch sometime. It might help to see that no one’s ever in danger, everyone is safe, and it’s all agreed upon.”

“If you want me to, sure.” Mingi finished his cup, set it back down beside the sink. “So what did Yunho do wrong? When Hongjoong spanked him?”

“Nothing.” Seonghwa finished his own coffee, though held onto it, leeching the last bits of warmth from the mug. “Sometimes it helps with anxiety and stuff, too. Wooyoung always feels safe and settled afterwards, so Yunho wanted to try it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Mingi said. “But okay.”

Seonghwa smiled. This had gone as well as it could’ve, and hopefully once Mingi saw it for himself the pieces would start clicking. “If you have any questions, you can ask me.”

A nod.

Seonghwa exhaled, feeling all at once terribly protective over their newest addition. He could see why Yunho liked him so much. Mingi was adorable. All muscle and height at first glance, but once he thawed out a little he was just scared, hoping that someone might try and understand him. And Seonghwa was determined for the pack to be that for him. To be the people that got to know the real Mingi. “We’re really happy to have you,” he said softly. He risked a step closer. “Could I scent you?”

Mingi’s eyes widened just barely. “But–” He stopped himself, but the intention was clear. What about Hongjoong?

Seonghwa held his wrist out in offering. “You’re pack now. It’s okay.”

Another moment passed, Mingi glanced uncertainly behind him, and then back to Seonghwa. Then, very gently, he took Seonghwa’s hand. Lifted it carefully to his face and rubbed his cheek across the gland. “Oh,” he whispered. “Like lemonade.”

“Yeah.” Seonghwa couldn’t help but beam. Yunho finding his mate. Their pack being complete. The hope that Mingi would one day feel truly safe here. It overwhelmed him; a big rush of warmth. “Like lemonade.”

Chapter Text

MONDAY

“We won’t be going anywhere near where you came from, so you don’t need to worry.” Seonghwa stuck a hairtie in between his teeth, used both hands to section Mingi’s hair into two chunks, and then secured half of it in a little ponytail at the crown of his head. “There. That feel okay?”

Mingi reached a hand up to feel, and then tugged a little piece out so it fell into his face. He nodded.

Seonghwa smiled, pleased that he’d been allowed to touch him at all. “If you grow it a little more I could braid it.”

Mingi looked over his shoulder, cheeks just the tiniest bit pink. Any bit of gentle touch, any bit of kindness, and he was blushing up a storm. “I’d like that.”

It’d taken days to convince him to go. A dozen reassurances that they would not let someone take him away, that they wouldn’t forget him out there. A promise from Hongjoong himself that he would come with, that he’d intervene if anyone bothered them. And then, only after some tears and an hour stuck in the crook of Yunho’s neck, had he agreed. He’d go with to the mall and let them buy him some clothes, a phone, and a pair of shoes. The bare minimum necessities to get through life.

Though, as Seonghwa had to keep reminding himself, these were luxuries to Mingi. Even going outside, having claim over his own body, were newly acquired privileges in his world.

In the meantime, he’d managed to fit into a pair of Yunho’s old converse. Good enough for now.

“Star!” Hongjoong’s voice carried from downstairs. “Let’s go!”

Seonghwa smiled, flicked Mingi’s ponytail one last time, and stepped towards the door. “They’re gonna get really annoying if we—”

“Seonghwa?” Mingi stayed where he was, facing his reflection, eyes finding Seonghwa in the mirror. “I don’t...”

“You don’t what?” Seonghwa resisted the urge to touch him more, to run a calming hand down his arm, across his scent gland. The idle, loving touches he usually expressed without hesitation.

“I don’t have any money.”

Despite his efforts to remain restrained, Seonghwa smiled. “We know that.”

Mingi’s eyes fell. “When I get a job, maybe—”

“Shush.” Seonghwa leaned against the doorframe, hoping Mingi could feel his fondness, his sincerity. “You’re not working anytime soon. Right now you’re healing. And we don’t want your money anyways, okay? Pay me back in coffee.”

Mingi’s mouth twitched. “I just make it like the instructions say.”

“So do I, and yet yours is better.” He let himself reach out and brush his knuckles along Mingi’s arm, soft enough to leave goosebumps in its wake. “Come on, Joong’s gonna get whiny.”

But Mingi lingered again, surveyed himself in his ponytail, his borrowed pants and hoodie. He finally smelled like the pack — though mainly like Yunho — and it was nice. Better than the emptiness of before, or those first few days when he’d vaguely smelled like blood.

“Puppy?” Seonghwa left it there, unsure what else could be said.

Mingi heaved out a little sigh and finally turned away from the mirror. “Sorry. I don’t look at myself much.”

And then, as if that wasn’t a totally heartbreaking terrible thing to say, he brushed past Seonghwa and continued on downstairs.

♡

Mingi had a complicated relationship with his body, in the sense that he hadn’t cared about it until very recently. If anything, having a body had felt like a massive inconvenience, just something that made enduring his life more difficult. He was naturally tall, so he was exploited. He could feel pain, so he was hit. He had what some people considered to be desirable, so he was pinned and raped. The only times in recent memory that he’d been okay with being — with having muscle and bone and skin, — was when Yunho was holding him.

Was it pathetic to admit he’d been surprised at first? Deep down? Like a piece of him had forgotten he’d known how to feel good things, known how to receive gentleness, light touches, kisses along his scent glands. Those parts of him, those good parts of having a body, had long been in hibernation.

Regardless, he still wasn’t sure how to navigate this: clothes shopping. Neither good nor bad, just confusing. Because it’d been years since he’d been asked to have an opinion on his looks.

“I feel like you’d look good in baggier pants,” Yunho said. He was taking this very seriously, was collecting big armfuls of clothing and having Mingi try them on at a ruthless pace. Not that Mingi really minded. “Do you think you’d like baggier?”

Mingi shrugged. He didn’t know what he liked. Right now his focus was on surveying the store and making sure Seonghwa and Hongjoong didn’t wander away. Really, every time he shut the fitting room door behind him he half expected them all to leave and abandon him here. Because he was only trouble for them, for their pack. No one would blame them if they did.

But as he reemerged, this time in bigger pants, the three of them were still there.

“Those are cute,” Hongjoong said. He squinted, looked Mingi up and down, and then nodded. “Like that shirt, too.”

“Thank you,” Mingi whispered. He swallowed, glanced to Seonghwa for support, and then gave a tiny bow. “Hongjoong.”

Seonghwa smiled and gave a thumbs up.

Yunho rifled through his stack of clothing, pulled out a fuzzy pink cardigan, and held it up. “You like this?”

Mingi shrugged.

Yunho frowned, raised an eyebrow. “Yes or no? It’s very soft.”

“It’s not very alpha-like.” Though that was his dad’s voice. The pressure to be one way, to be intimidating. Mingi wasn’t even sure what he really thought, wasn’t even sure how to think.

“Who said it was?” Yunho smiled a little, and he looked so sweet sitting there, his whole evening devoted to buying Mingi clothes he hadn’t even asked for…

Mingi felt like his heart was in his stomach. Like he was going to burst into flames. “Do you like it?”

Hongjoong made a funny little snorting noise.

“I do,” Yunho said. He held the sweater to his cheek, rubbed it gently across his skin. “If you wore it I don’t think I could stay away from you.”

Mingi felt faint. “Then I like it, too.”

That was how the whole trip went. Mingi didn’t know what he liked. But he knew he liked what Yunho liked, so he kept an eye out for his cues. For things he wanted Mingi in, for things he thought were soft or cute or beautiful. Mingi would do anything to be seen as beautiful in Yunho’s eyes. He knew he wasn’t deserving of an omega like that, but he could pretend he was. He could pretend like he was strong enough to keep him safe and had a good, alpha-like scent. He could pretend like he could be everything an alpha was supposed to be, and that he was the sort Yunho would want to mate with.

But in Mingi’s heart he knew it wasn’t true. At best, if he was lucky, Yunho saw him as something to pity. The alpha who’d been hit too many times, who had a broken scent, who couldn’t even rut correctly. And even though Mingi was considered pack now, he absolutely expected his stay in Yunho’s room to still be temporary.

But it would be heaven while it lasted.

Afterwards they bought him two pairs of shoes and a cellphone. Mingi wasn’t sure who he would call, but he appreciated it nonetheless. It made him feel a bit more normal.

And then, in the backseat of the car, Yunho leaned close to whisper. “Was that okay?” His scent was overwhelming, flooding Mingi’s senses, making his vision fuzzy. “We can spend the rest of the night in bed, to recuperate. Even I need to relax after the mall.”

The whole evening in bed? Mingi nodded without hesitation, for once knowing without a doubt that this was something he liked. “It wasn’t too bad,” he confirmed. “And I really think I like the sweater.”

TUESDAY

“Pfft.” Wooyoung flipped to the next page in his notes a bit aggressively, tapping his pen on the table the whole time. “They never would’ve sent you away, Yunho would’ve gone fucking insane. Oh— Could you check my practice exam? Yeah, it’s under the book.”

Mingi pulled the packet of papers out, squinted in confusion at the mess of numbers and graphs. “I don’t—”

“Here.” Wooyoung produced yet another slightly crumpled piece of paper from his backpack. “The answers.”

“Oh.” Mingi set it alongside the exam, uncapped a red pen to begin checking. He didn’t know anything about statistics, he couldn’t even remember which math he’d been in before dropping out. But matching Wooyoung’s choices to the answer key was simple enough. “So…” he continued slowly, “what would Yunho have done?” Privately, though he’d expected Yunho would’ve been quite sad over him leaving, he knew he would’ve gotten over it. Same way his family had eight years ago.

Wooyoung shrugged, stuck his pen in between his teeth, and slouched down in his seat. They’d been studying together for the better part of the afternoon. Mingi was helping best he could. “I don’t even know, but he would’ve lost it. Even just the first time we saw you — he couldn’t sleep after. Pulled a bunch of his savings out so we could talk to you again.”

Mingi felt hot all at once. He pushed up the sleeves of his cardigan. “Oh. I… didn’t realize he did that.”

Wooyoung shrugged again, slipped a few more centimeters down in his chair. “He’s very romantic.” But he laughed as he said it. Like it was a big joke.

Mingi set his pen down, even though he’d only checked two of Wooyoung’s problems. Both had been wrong. “Can…” He glanced behind him, as if the entire pack may have materialized here at the kitchen table. “Can I ask you something personal?”

That made Wooyoung sit up again. “Obviously, yes. Anything’s better than stats.”

Mingi exhaled a weak laugh. He clasped his hands together beneath the table, squeezed until his old scabs began to hurt a little. “How did you ask…Yeosang…”

Wooyoung’s eyebrows quirked a little. “To mate me? Are you asking me how to get laid?”

“No.” Mingi looked sharply away, his face burning. “I just— I don’t—”

“I’m messing with you.” Wooyoung scooted a little closer and leaned his elbows on the table. “For the record, I didn’t ask him. San asked me. And him. We’re both mated to San.”

Mingi’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not possible, I thought only— And he’s a—” Mingi wasn’t exactly an expert in this sort of thing, but he could remember vividly that no betas in his pack had ever given an alpha a mating bite, let alone an alpha and an omega.

“It is possible.” Wooyoung was close now, grinning at Mingi’s obvious confusion. “He bit us both. We bit him back. Then we bit each other. There’s always a chance doing a three way bite will reject, but it didn’t. Just meant to be, I guess.”

“Wow.” Mingi tried to wrap his brain around it. Finding two mates. Two people that loved you, two people that were so perfect for you that even your biology recognized them. “You’re really lucky.”

“I know. The sex is insane. Yunho used to join in, but not lately. Boo.”

Mingi’s brain stuttered.

Yunho...

Sex…

Wooyoung peered over Mingi’s work on the practice exam and groaned. “Both wrong? I’m so fucked. Do the rest, would you?”

Mingi continued checking. In the end, Wooyoung scored thirteen out of twenty problems correct, and dove back into his notes with a groan.

Feeling sympathetic, Mingi headed to the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee. It was the only thing he knew how to make, but at least it smelled like home. Like being a teenager again, like getting to have his scent for a few months before they’d stolen it away. He poured two cups, dished a generous spoonful of sugar in each, and finished them off with some milk.

“Ohhhh,” Wooyoung cooed as he saw it, hands open to receive the mug. “You’re like an angel sent from heaven.”

Mingi fought a smile. “Tell me if it needs anything.”

“Nah, It’s always perfect.” And then, even though he’d been insisting all day that if he didn’t learn statistics by Thursday he wouldn’t graduate on time, he pushed his textbook away yet again. “My turn to ask you a personal question.”

Mingi stiffened. It was only fair, he supposed, though that didn’t mean he’d like it. “All right.”

“Have you kissed Yunho yet?”

Mingi’s eyes went wide. “No.” Who did Wooyoung thing he was? Stupid? He’d already gotten far more kindness and understanding that he’d anticipated, the last thing he wanted was to fly too close to the sun. “It’s not like that. At all.”

Wooyoung’s cheeky smile evaporated. “Oh. I… I guess I assumed you liked him.”

“Of course I like him.” That much was easy to admit, and he trusted Wooyoung enough to say it. Besides, who wouldn’t like Yunho? He was perfect. The most beautiful omega alive, the nicest smelling, the kindest… There had to be alphas lined up begging for his attention, begging to mate him. “But it’s not…”

“It’s not what?” Wooyoung sipped his coffee loudly.

“It’s not going to happen. Just— I don’t know. He shouldn’t want me like that.” Mingi didn’t want to elaborate. Didn’t want to bare his soul. Because this sort of thing was just another layer of misery and confusion in his life. He liked thinking about mating Yunho, he liked thinking about Yunho having sex. But not with…himself. Mingi was never the alpha he envisioned. Yunho deserved someone better. Someone that hadn’t been bitched so many times by strangers, someone who wasn’t so used up and ruined.

Wooyoung was being suspiciously silent. It made Mingi feel itchy. “Do you think he just lets any alpha sleep in his bed?”

Mingi faltered. “No, I—”

“You think this is something he does all the time? Finding random guys and bringing them home? Anyone who looks like they need a little help? God, Mingi, I’m sorry but you need to be serious here. Have you seen how he looks at you? What he’d do for you?”

Mingi wished he could curl up so small that he’d dissapear. “It’s not that.”

“What, then?” Wooyoung’s expression was tense, expectant. “No offense, but if you’re not serious about him, that’s a problem with me. It’d break his heart.”

“I’d never hurt him.” That much he knew for certain. Yunho needed to be happy, be safe. That was the priority here. Mingi just couldn’t believe that happiness equated to him. Even if Yunho thought this was what he wanted, he would quickly realize he’d been wrong. He deserved someone normal. Someone who wanted to have sex like a regular alpha, someone who could scent him back properly. “He should have someone better than me, that’s all.”

Wooyoung frowned, tapped his pen against the edge of the table, and stared for a heavy few moments. “They really did a number on you, huh?”

Mingi looked away. That was the understatement of the year.

“Listen.” Wooyoung leaned a hair closer, waited until Mingi met his eyes. His scent was thick, a big rush of pine and forest. “They took a lot from you, I get that. But don’t let them take Yunho, too.”

With that said, he turned back to focus on his notes, and did not look in Mingi’s direction for the rest of the afternoon.

WEDNESDAY

“Mingi, darling?” Seonghwa found him in the kitchen as he finished loading the dishwasher. “Do you have a moment?”

Mingi hesitated. They’d just finished dinner, he and Yunho were gonna lay in bed and watch a movie now. He’d been waiting all day for it, counting down the hours until Yunho finished at work. But Seonghwa said it’d just be a moment, and Mingi really didn’t feel good about saying no to anyone above him. So, he nodded. “What is it?”

Seonghwa smiled gently, leaned against the counter. Mingi felt the ghosts of his fingertips again, the way he’d carded them through his hair to check for snarls. “Yeosang’s getting punished. He said it’s all right with him if you watch.”

Mingi’s stomach rolled. Yeosang? He couldn’t bear the thought of him hurt. Yeosang was so perfect. So sweet, polite — what could he possibly have done wrong? But Mingi had agreed a few days ago that he’d be willing to watch, though he really didn’t know how it would help anything. Maybe it was a threat of sorts? To remind him what would happen if he broke a rule? “Oh.” He swallowed uncomfortably. “Is it gonna be bad?”

“Not at all. Just a learning opportunity.”

So, Mingi set the dishwasher to run and then followed him back to Hongjoong’s office, though it felt more like a lion’s den. This was new to him; Watching someone else be punished. He’d never been close with anyone at the ring, though he assumed if he had been Handler would’ve used it against him. That was a downside of a pack. Everyone cared about one another, so it hurt worse to see one of the others in pain.

As expected, Hongjoong was seated behind his desk, and Yeosang on the sofa. His head was ducked, his ears a bit red. “Mingi,” Hongjoong said. “Nice of you to join.”

Mingi lingered by the door, his breaths stubbornly shallow. He forced himself to brace, to rein in his emotions. He couldn’t lash out and get protective when Yeosang cried, even if he begged for help. This was his chance to prove himself, to show that he respected Hongjoong’s authority. Even if it meant enduring the beating of someone as nice and gentle as Yeosang.

To his surprise, Seonghwa spoke next. Stood before Yeosang and folded his arms. “You wanna fill Mingi in on what’s happening here?”

Yeosang shrunk even further into himself, though his eyes flicked upwards in acknowledgment. He mumbled something indistinguishable.

“Little louder, puppy.”

Yeosang sighed heavily. “Work has been scheduling over my lunch breaks,” he said. “And I let them.”

Seonghwa smiled just barely, like he was proud, and then turned back to Mingi. “It’s been an ongoing issue. Advocating for himself. We’ve worked already on what to say, how to say it, how to have professional boundaries…But instead he’s just been skipping his lunch. Explain what the problem with that is, please.”

Yeosang sniffled. “Not taking good care of myself.”

“And?”

“Lied about it.”

Seonghwa leaned over and ruffled his hair, a slight smile still on his lips. “Very good. Mingi, any questions?”

Mingi shook his head. So far it made sense. Lying was one of their rules. He glanced over to Hongjoong, but he was typing on a laptop, not even watching.

Seonghwa caught his eye. “I’m handling this one,” he said softly. “Thought it’d be less intense for you, okay?”

He’d thought wrong. The tightness in Mingi’s gut clawed up to his throat. Was this some sort of psychological torture? Forcing him to watch Seonghwa — one of the people in this pack he was close to trusting — hurt someone? But he nodded. That was all he knew was safe to do.

Seonghwa joined Yeosang on the couch, guided him gently over his lap. Yeosang gripped a cushion in his hands, his eyes firmly on the floor. “We already agreed it’d be fifteen smacks,” Seonghwa said, eyes on Mingi. “And then Hongjoong’s gonna help him write up an email explaining to his boss that he will be taking his lunch break from now on.”

Mingi nodded. He didn’t know if fifteen was a lot or not. He didn’t know how bad it hurt, and what sort of thing he’d be struck with.

Seonghwa continued, speaking easily despite a now teary Yeosang sprawled over his knee. “We do this with a safe word, too. At any point if it feels like too much, or he isn’t okay with it, we can stop. We’ll talk about it. We’ll figure something else out. No one gets struck without explicitly agreeing to it, okay? That goes for you too, Mingi. Even if you break a rule. We’d never spank you unless you asked for it.”

And Mingi knew he never would. He nodded again.

“Now. Sangie.” Seonghwa ran a hand across his back, rested it on his butt with a light pat. “Tell me again why you’re here?”

Yeosang’s ears were a vibrant red now. “Lied and didn’t ask for help.”

“And do you deserve a spanking?”

He nodded, which earned him a light slap. “Yes,” he said quickly. “I—”

“Seonghwa—” Mingi’s voice came out cracked and pathetic. He shoved his hands behind himself, clutched them together. “I don’t— I think he was probably just nervous to tell you, I don’t think you need to hurt him. He seems sorry. Please.”

Seonghwa’s expression went all soft. “I appreciate you saying that. But we’ve both agreed to this as a punishment, okay?”

Mingi shut his mouth. Hongjoong was watching now, likely waiting for Mingi to intervene. But he wouldn’t. He’d prove himself. He could follow rules, even cruel ones, if it meant getting to be in this pack.

And then Seonghwa raised his hand back and brought it down hard on Yeosang’s ass. Hard enough that Yeosang released a little squeaking sound and squeezed his eyes shut. “One,” he whispered.

“Good boy,” Seonghwa crooned. He landed another slap, and another. Each time he waited for a number, murmured a bit of praise, and then continued. After six he tugged Yeosang’s sweatpants down and spanked him through his underwear, which seemed a bit more painful, but only marginally so.

Mingi found himself flinching at first. It was all so humiliating, so terrible. A part of him wanted to look elsewhere, to at least give Yeosang a bit of privacy. But, simultaneously, he couldn’t pull his eyes away. Because… It really wasn’t that bad. Embarrassing, definitely. But even though a few tears slipped down Yeosang’s cheeks, and he’d give a little whine after a particularly smart slap, he didn’t seem to be suffering.

It didn’t even feel like a punishment. Not in the way Mingi was accustomed to. No blood. Yeosang wasn’t begging, wasn’t protecting his face and vital organs. If anything, his body was going lax, totally acceptant. He could’ve easily struggled and gotten away from it, but he didn’t. He was agreeing to staying put.

Mingi’s mind wandered. To that day he’d run from the ring, the day he’d begged to go back. Handler’s punishment had nearly put him in the grave. He’d taken a cane to him, left harsh, blood spotted welts all across Mingi’s back and arms. It hadn’t been until Mingi was too weak to even cry, to fight back, to brace. Not until he’d been fully broken down, unable to even shield his face, that Handler had deemed him done.

That’s what a punishment was. Pain until you regretted what you’d done, until you knew for certain disobeying would never again be worth it.

“Fifteen.” Yeosang’s voice was watery, he wiped pathetically at his nose, and sat slowly back up. Instantly, Seonghwa curled him up in his arms and began peppering his face with kisses, smoothing down his hair. “Did so good,” he whispered, wiping the tears away with his thumb. “So brave for me, took it so well.”

Yeosang sniffed loudly. “Sorry,” he managed. “I never meant to, I just felt so stupid.”

“I know, baby. They never should’ve treated you like that, anyways. It’s all right now, you’re okay.”

And they carried on that way, Seonghwa rubbing Yeosang’s back, kissing him, coaxing little laughs out of him, until his tears stopped and his breathing slowed.

Then, cuddled up tightly on the loveseat, Seonghwa finally looked again to Mingi. “How are you feeling?”

Mingi swallowed. He didn’t know. It didn’t seem sufficient, didn’t seem like a real punishment. But that realization also felt like a big relief. After all, no part of him had wanted to see Yeosang injured. “If…” He glanced nervously in Hongjoong’s direction, then refocused on Seonghwa. “If I’d…”

Seonghwa’s eyebrows perked a little. “Hm?”

“Would you…” He felt so stupid asking it. Felt like a coward, a pathetic excuse for an alpha. But he had to know, because it couldn’t be true. This was one of those things that was one way for someone like Yeosang, but another way for someone like Mingi. “If I’d lied, would you have been that gentle with me, too?”

“Of course I would.” And then Seonghwa opened up one of his arms, beckoned him closer. “I’ll be gentle with you no matter what.”

And then, even though Hongjoong was right there and Mingi felt terribly needy for even wanting it, he stepped closer. Sat on the loveseat with them, let Seonghwa tuck him under his arm and pull him in tight to their cuddle session. Yeosang still looked okay up close, maybe a bit tired, but clearly content. Everyone was okay. No one was mad. No one had ever been mad.

“You did very good,” Seonghwa murmured. He nuzzled his cheek against the top of Mingi’s head, then pressed a light kiss into his hair. “So brave.”

THURSDAY

“I know, I know. I worry too much.” Yunho gestured to the bed, not willing to back down on this. “You just gotta put up with me. Please?”

A tiny, flicker of a smile crossed Mingi’s face. He was pretending to be annoyed by the attention, but he was far too easy to read. “Fine,” he said. He tugged his shirt up over his head, laid it beside the pink cardigan he’d worn every day since they’d bought it, and then laid stomach down as instructed. “It won’t help, though.”

“Even if it doesn’t,” Yunho said. He crawled over him, straddled his legs on either side of Mingi’s waist. “Makes me feel a lot better.”

They’d begun doing this at night. A bruise salve he’d found online, something to increase the blood flow and promote healing. Maybe it was a big scam, maybe it was legit. Either way, Yunho liked feeling like he was doing something, like he wasn’t totally powerless. And, though it could’ve all been in his head, he swore some of the worst parts on Mingi’s ribs had lightened a tiny bit.

Plus. It was a good excuse to get Mingi shirtless, to stare unashamedly at his back muscles, and to maybe even sneak in a little neck massage.

“Today—” Mingi winced just barely when the first bit of salve went on. “Cold.”

Yunho giggled. “You’ll survive.” Though he warmed the next bit up between his fingers. “What about today?”

“Posy brought her catnip mouse in and dropped it on my chest.”

“Aw, keeping you fed. How responsible.” Yunho smiled at the mental image, wishing he could call out of work for eternity just to spend his days home with Mingi. He never felt right when they were apart. Even though he knew Mingi was safe here, and was settling in wonderfully, his mind insisted on worrying.

He smoothed a final touch of salve over Mingi’s ribs, taking extra care to be gentle with them, because he didn’t think Mingi would admit if it hurt. Then, the bruises taken care of, he kneaded both hands into the muscle of his shoulders, envisioned erasing the years of tension there. “This okay?”

Mingi made an approving sound into the pillow. The side of his face visible was lax, his eyes shut.

Yunho could’ve melted. His alpha. His. Safe in their bed, happy, taken care of. Yunho never purred, but he was tempted to try. He couldn’t imagine feeling more settled than in this moment. Because everything was okay, now. Mingi was okay. No one would be hurting him ever again.

His finger strayed up to stroke along Mingi’s scent gland. The spot that should’ve smelled like him, smelled like coffee. And all at once a bit of sadness butted in. Because although Mingi could learn how to trust again, how to love, how to smile — it seemed his scent was broken beyond repair. There would be no burst of coffee, no overwhelm of warmth and coziness. Not even if Yunho bit him there, sealed themselves to one another.

It wasn’t the end of the world. He’d take Mingi as he was. But that didn’t mean the cruelty of it all didn’t sting.

FRIDAY

“Could we feed them?” Mingi tore off a little piece of the croissant Yunho had bought him and held it out, ready to throw it over to the ducks gathered by the river. He’d never fed a duck before.

“Not supposed to,” Yunho said. “All the bread isn’t good for them.”

“Oh.” Mingi popped the bite into his own mouth. “I wish they’d come closer.”

“Here.” Yunho dropped down to a squat and held out a hand in offering, then made a terrible quack quack sound.

Mingi fought his laughter at first, because they were in public and the last thing he wanted was to draw attention. But then Yunho wouldn’t quit, even when the ducks turned and began waddling away. He waddled after them, dangerously close to the river’s edge, going quack quack the whole time. Mingi couldn’t help it, he clamped a hand over his mouth to try and stifle some of the noise, but it was too ridiculous not to giggle.

Yunho looked back at him grinning, then straightened and bushed himself off. “Huh,” he said with a shrug. “Didn’t work.”

“You’re being ridiculous, even they know that.” But Mingi was smiling too, because he was outside with someone like Yunho, the fresh air felt amazing, and he actually felt…okay. For once.

Yunho knocked their shoulders together and they continued walking. “I’ll catch you a duck next time.”

Mingi smiled. “Promise?”

“Mhm.” Their hands bumped, but instead of acting like it was an accident, Yunho held fast, intertwined their fingers carefully together. “I’m thinking I’ll need a whole duck costume. That way they’d really think I’m one of them.”

But Mingi wasn’t thinking about ducks anymore. Their hands. The warmth. Even the close proximity of their wrists, the vulnerability there. Out in public, out in front of everyone. They’d held hands dozens of times by now, but never where anybody else could see.

It felt pathetic to admit, but Mingi had sort of assumed he was a humiliating alpha to be seen with.

Maybe Wooyoung had been right. Maybe Mingi should go for it. Maybe Yunho really did like him and it would work out. Not just for a little while, but forever. Like they were mates.

Yunho was rambling about the ducks, about the river, but Mingi couldn’t pay attention. His eyes lingered on Yunho’s mouth, the shape of his lips while he talked. Glimpses of his teeth, his tongue. It made him feel juvenile. Like a teenager nervous for a first kiss. Which was stupid, because Mingi had done so much more than kissing so many times. But it hadn’t been with Yunho, so it really didn’t seem to count.

He stopped walking. The sun was just beginning to set, they’d have to turn back soon.

“What?” Yunho smiled, squeezed his hand a little. His bangs were in his eyes. Mingi reached up and fixed that, pushed them so they were just so. “Oh, thank you.”

And then, before he lost this blissful moment and the jolt of confidence it was giving him, Mingi leaned in. Slowly, giving Yunho plenty of time to react or pull away. But he didn’t, and instead their mouths pressed just barely together. A chaste kiss, a gentle one.

He pulled back, surveyed Yunho’s face for any hurt, for any anger. But he was still smiling, his cheeks had flushed a little. “Oh,” he said again.

Mingi returned the smile, a big rush of relief flooding his system. His alpha seemed to purr, seemed to curl up in this comfort, in this rush of emotion. He didn’t go in for another, not right now. He wanted to keep it just like this. Not confusing, not scary. Just perfect.

The continued along the river, their hands swinging gently between them.

Eventually they came upon a few more ducks. Yunho pointed out two mallards. “That’s us,” he said.

And Mingi agreed.

Chapter Text

“Star?” Hongjoong lingered in the doorway of their attached bathroom, his toothbrush stuck in one corner of his mouth. “Does Mingi seem okay to you?”

Seonghwa’s brows furrowed just slightly. He set down his book, though kept a thumb in to mark his page. “Well… No.”

“I mean—” Hongjoong turned, spat into the sink, and rinsed his toothbrush off. Obviously Mingi was not okay. He barely talked unless spoken to. He walked around with his shoulders curled, like he was bracing for a hit at all times. His brain was fractured, stunted. It would take a lot of time and a lot of retraining to get him functional again, let alone anywhere close to healed. But they both knew that. The whole house knew it.

“What?” Seonghwa prompted.

Hongjoong turned out the bathroom light and joined him in bed, laid on his stomach with his head pillowed against Seonghwa’s thigh. The best place to be. Optimal for getting head scratches. “He’s got these bruises all over him,” he said slowly. This wasn’t common knowledge to the pack. Not unless they’d happened to see him shirtless. “On his side. Yunho’s keeping an eye on them, and I guess Mingi says they don’t hurt. But… I don’t know.”

“Hm,” Seonghwa said. Sure enough, his hand settled into Hongjoong’s hair, scratching idly. “Do we believe he’d say if they did hurt?”

“No.” Hongjoong winced at the thought of Mingi suffering this whole time, too afraid to mention it.

“So, let’s get him a doctor’s appointment.”

“You think he’d go?”

“I think he’d do whatever you told him.”

Hongjoong cringed. He pressed his face a little closer to Seonghwa’s belly, like he could hide. “I hate that.”

“We can work on it.” Seonghwa’s hand kept moving, soft, rhythmic strokes. The pads of his fingers on Hongjoong’s scalp, his nails. It made him tingle. “Once we know he’s okay, you two can spend more time together. He’ll realize you’re not so scary.”

It was easy when put that way, but Hongjoong still felt strange.

Truthfully, a tiny piece of him had sort of liked Mingi’s submission at first. After a lifetime of being regarded as small for an alpha, forced to rely more on his brains than his physical strength, it’d felt incredibly validating to see Mingi on his knees. Alpha, he’d said. Like he did not doubt for a moment that Hongjoong was one.

But then the pieces had finished clicking. And he’d realized that every time Mingi averted his eyes, every time he sunk to his knees — there was someone else behind the action. Someone else who’d beat him into that submission. Hongjoong was just a threat in Mingi’s world. Not an alpha he respected out of genuine trust, but one he expected to become his next abuser.

It was a shame, truly. The rest of the pack could befriend him. Could know him. But Hongjoong would always be the head alpha, and to Mingi that would always equate to being cruel.

Hongjoong sighed. “I’ll see if Yunho can convince him to go.”

“Joong,” Seonghwa said gently. His hand stopped, and he stared down with a bright intensity in his eyes. “Make him an appointment and then take him out to lunch. Have you ever even talked to the guy?”

“Well—”

“You haven’t.” Seonghwa breathed out a light laugh, a tiny smile tugging at his mouth. “Of course you haven’t. You two haven’t had one normal interaction since he got here.”

“We’ve been busy,” Hongjoong mumbled. But it was a weak excuse. There’d just always been a reason not to talk to him. Best to stay away, best to let him adjust. But it’d been over three weeks. He was adjusting. “All I do is scare him.”

“So prove him otherwise.”

Hongjoong made a face. “What would we talk about?”

“Anything. He’s nice.”

“Nice?” Hongjoong scoffed. “Didn’t feel nice when he broke my face.”

Seonghwa flicked his forehead. “You’re ridiculous.”

Hongjoong gave a dramatic groan in answer. He didn’t want to sort things out with Mingi. Better if it just stayed weird forever, both of them being slightly wary of the other, unsure how to coexist properly without Seonghwa or Yunho around as a buffer.

“I’ll book him an appointment, okay? But you gotta take him.”

“Ugh.”

“Disrespectful,” Seonghwa admonished, though his tone was light. “I’m allowed to spank you, remember? You gotta watch your—”

Hongjoong ignored him, boosted up on his hands and leaned in. “Gimme kiss.”

Seonghwa ducked out of the way, giggling the whole time. “You don’t deserve any, you—”

Hongjoong caught him, and they kissed in a flurry of smiles and little laughs and halfhearted attempts from Seonghwa to smack his ass. And it felt so good, so right, that Hongjoong knew he would take Mingi to his doctor’s appointment. He’d take him out to lunch, too. Even if for no reason other than Seonghwa asking him to.

He pulled away, satisfied with the slight flush in Seonghwa’s cheeks, and then slid under the covers. It was late, they had work tomorrow. But neither of them were inclined to mention it.

“Tell me again about the first time you saw me,” Hongjoong said. He wrapped Seonghwa up around the waist, tucked his chin onto his shoulder. Perfect angle for a steady flow of his pheromones, his scent. And a nice view of his mating bite, too. It’d healed perfectly.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes and stuck his bookmark into his book, officially setting it aside for the night.  “You’re so sentimental.”

“Mhm.” Hongjoong beamed. “Mainly about you.”

And so Seonghwa told him. The same story it always was. About a teenaged Hongjoong coming into the cafe his parents owned, with his ill fitting clothes and bruises, his permanent scowl. And Seonghwa had been so put together, been so perfect. The type to wear an apron but then try hard to keep it clean. They’d been a bad match. At eighteen things like optics mattered so deeply, things like other’s opinions.

That was Hongjoong’s favorite part. He’d been angry and irresponsible and alone. Seonghwa had managed to see past it. Had given him a chance.

It really was getting late. Hongjoong’s eyes were growing heavy, his alpha sleepy and scent drunk off Seonghwa. He made a funny little humming noise, rubbed his cheek against Seonghwa’s pajama shirt. “I love you.”

Seonghwa’s scent brightened. It always did. Even years later. “I love you too, Joong.”

And then, though he wanted more than anything not to admit it, he opened his mouth for one last confession. “And you’re right. I’ll try and get to know him.”

Seonghwa kissed the side of his head. “Good boy.”

♡

Yunho had kissed a handful of people. Six of them lived in the same house as he did. Well, now a seventh.

But he had to admit there was something a little different about Mingi. Something that made it feel just so. Not to say the rest of the pack was bad at kissing — Every time Yunho had fooled around with Wooyoung he’d woken up kissed stupid and brainless. Same went for Seonghwa, who could be a real menace when he wanted to be.

But Mingi…

The best word Yunho could use for his kisses was shy. Always hesitant. Just gentle, careful pecks at first. And then he’d pull away fast, like he’d done something wrong. He’d hide his grins behind his hands, pretend like nothing had happened, like they were keeping it a big secret. But, without fail, he’d eventually drift over for another one. He fumbled with it a little, clearly nervous. Didn’t know where to put his hands, didn’t dare let it go on longer than a few seconds.

Yunho didn’t mind. So much had been taken from Mingi. He was entitled to this exploration, to figuring out what felt good to him, what he wanted.

It also added a nice new layer to their scenting sessions.

“I take it you missed me?” Yunho laughed lightly, only teasing. Because he’d barely gotten through the front door when Mingi had scooped him up, dragged him back to their bed for a few minutes of privacy before dinner.

“Mhm.” He mumbled it, barely intelligible with his face pressed against Yunho’s throat. His tongue, warm and wet, lapped slowly over his scent gland. “A lot.”

“Missed you too.” Yunho let his eyes slide shut, let the tension from his day ease away. It was like he spent the entire day holding his breath a little, waiting to exhale in Mingi’s arms. “Work was so boring.” He giggled a little as Mingi’s teeth brushed his scent gland. It spiked up his spine, his scent going crazy. It seemed Mingi was even needier than normal. Or was at least a bit more obvious about it. “You okay, pup?”

Mingi nodded, but didn’t move. Put a little kiss on Yunho’s throat. “I’m fine.”

At that Yunho carefully pulled back, just enough to get a clear look at Mingi’s face. He looked okay. Looked normal. But his hand was spasming a little as it gripped at Yunho’s waist. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

Mingi eyes drifted away. “Not really.”

A jolt of panic struck him. Yunho could feel his scent souring, could see the instant concern it illicited in Mingi. “Tell me.” He wasn’t often firm. Not many areas of his life called for it. But where Mingi was concerned, Yunho needed to know.

“I’m fine.” Mingi leaned forward for a quick kiss, then pulled back and sat criss-cross on the bed. They were still close, but no longer entangled. “It’s only…Hongjoong said I need to see a doctor.”

“Oh.” Yunho relaxed again. “That’s not a bad idea.”

Mingi nodded, sighed. “I know. Especially if…” And then he trailed off, his shoulders curling in a little further. He looked tiny, now. He’d certainly lost a bit of his muscle in the few weeks he’d been here, maybe gotten softer from all the good food, but he was still a big guy. Though right now Yunho swore he could’ve fit him in his pocket.

“What?” Yunho prompted gently.

Mingi folded his hands together. “I’m assuming they’re gonna test me for stuff.” He blinked hard. “A lot of people…with me. You know.”

Unfortunately Yunho did. He reached out and took Mingi’s hands, massaged them apart and then held them in his own. 

Mingi shrugged. “Part of me doesn’t want to know. But… I guess I’ll have to.”

“Mingi,” Yunho said softly. “I know it’s scary. But we want you to be healthy. And no matter what, you’re part of this pack. Okay?”

Mingi’s eyes were shiny. “Okay.”

“When’s your appointment? I’ll come with.”

Finally, that made Mingi smile a little. Maybe he’d been too nervous to outright ask. “Tomorrow at two. Hongjoong’s gonna come home early to take me.”

“Two, I—” Yunho stopped. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“I have a big meeting at one, I’d never make it home in time.”

“That’s okay.” But his face fell, his hands stiffened just barely in Yunho’s grasp. “I’ll be okay.”

“I could try and reschedule it,” Yunho said. But he knew he couldn’t. “Or I could call out sick, maybe—”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

But fine wasn’t good enough, he wanted Mingi to be good. Though maybe that wasn’t possible in this scenario. Yunho sighed, kissed the back of Mingi’s hand, across his knuckles and then on his palm. “Hongjoong will take care of you. I promise.”

“I know.”

Yunho really hoped he believed that.

♡

As instructed, Mingi waited by the front door. He’d dressed in a pair of baggy jeans that they’d gotten him, the pink cardigan Yunho liked. He wasn’t used to jeans. The way they felt on his legs bothered him slightly.

Hongjoong burst through the door at quarter past one, slightly out of breath and a little frazzled. “Two minutes,” he said. “I need to eat something then we’ll leave. You need something? You good?”

Mingi nodded. Trailed behind him into the kitchen like a pet, unsure where else to put himself. He’d never gone anywhere with just Hongjoong. They hadn’t even spoken one on one since his first few days here. His brain was being mean about it, was whispering lies to him, that Hongjoong wasn’t going to take him to the doctor, would actually drive him a few hours outside of the city, order him out of the car, and then leave him there.

“God, this last meeting—” Hongjoong shook his head, started rifling through their snack cupboards. “Whole hour to talk about nothing. Wasted everyone’s time, could’ve been a fucking email.” He shoved his hand into a box of granola bars and then groaned. “And who the fuck is taking the last one without recycling the box?” Then he moved on to the next option, crammed half it in his mouth, and gestured to the front door. “Let’s go. You got everything?”

Mingi nodded, unsure what he was supposed to have. He didn’t have any ID, though he’d committed his resident number to memory. He hoped that was enough.

He hesitated a moment before getting into the passenger seat. He’d never sat up here before, but it felt even weirder to take the back. Though he didn’t know how to sit normally, where to look. Honestly, he would’ve been more comfortable in the trunk, because at least then he wouldn’t have to wonder whether or not to talk.

About five minutes in he tried. “Is your face better?” His voice cracked. Mingi wished he could disappear.

Hongjoong gave a dry laugh. “Seems to be. Finally looking kinda normal.” They stopped at a light, and he pointed to the spot under his eye. The mark was still red, but the scab had come off, just a bit of brownish bruising around it. “Told everyone at work I tripped on the sidewalk.”

“Oh.” Mingi looked away. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s whatever.”

But they both knew it wasn’t whatever. And Mingi knew he would never feel okay about it, would never feel at peace, until something made them even. But Hongjoong wasn’t willing to hit him back, so they were trapped in this terrible limbo.

“I’ve gotten hit before, “ Hongjoong said after a long moment. “I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

“I used to be a real piece of shit. People went out of their way to beat me up.” And then he laughed again, though it didn’t feel natural at all.

Mingi didn’t know how to answer so he nodded. Agreeing felt safe.

“Did you live in the city before?” Hongjoong’s tone was weird. Upbeat in a way he didn’t sound around the others.

Mingi nodded carefully. “A little outside of it. I don’t remember where specifically.”

“Head injuries will do that to you.” Hongjoong laughed but immediately cut himself off. “Sorry. That’s not funny.”

Mingi blinked. “It’s all right. I’m just… happy to be here, now. You have a good pack.”

“I really do.” Hongjoong made a turn. His phone said they’d arrive in a few minutes. “Sometime we should explain how we found everyone. Most of us didn’t have as dramatic of an entrance as you, but there’s some interesting stories there.”

They pulled into a carpark. Hongjoong smiled. He kept doing that for some reason, which was odd because he’d always acted neutral around Mingi, maybe polite, but not…friendly. “You ready?”

Ready?

No, Mingi wasn’t.

He hated doctors. Hated having his body looked at, hated having to explain what had been done to him. He didn’t even know what to expect, really. It’d been eight years since he’d seen anyone other than the ring’s medic — who had treated him coldly, had answered only to Handler. And what if the results were bad? What if there was too much wrong with him? The pack would change their mind about him. Yunho would never want to mate with somebody so used.

“Mingi?” Hongjoong had his door open, one foot outside. “You with me?”

Although he ordered himself to answer, to move, he remained sitting. Hands making fists in his lap, jaw clenched. They would ask him how many sexual partners he’d had. They always asked that. Last time, when he’d been sixteen, the answer had been zero. Did he even know the number now? Could he guess?

Hongjoong slid back into his seat. He raised a hand, which made Mingi tense, though he only set it lightly on his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

Mingi shook his head. He wanted Yunho here. He wanted Yeosang or Seonghwa or Wooyoung or San or Jongho, even though he’d only talked to Jongho a few times. He wanted anybody but Hongjoong, and he felt terrible for admitting that to himself, because Hongjoong had already been far more understanding than he deserved.

“Can you say something?” Hongjoong peered at him, eyes wide. His hand moved to the back of Mingi’s neck, gripped him there firmly. “You’re okay. We’re getting you a check up. It’s fine.”

Mingi was frozen. His brain raced a thousand thoughts a minute, but his body was stuck in molasses.

Hongjoong’s hand tightened even further, scruffing him firmly. “Mingi. I said look at me.”

Mingi managed to, his body answering before his brain even processed the command. The scruff was calming. His system was flooded by the dominance in Hongjoong’s voice, in his scent. Apple, woodsmoke, a leather bound book. He blinked a bit stupidly, Hongjoong now in his frame of sight. His expression was tense, brows furrowed.

“Take a big breath.” Hongjoong’s gaze hardened when it didn’t happen. “Mingi. I told you to breathe. What do you say?”

“Yes, Alpha.” Mingi inhaled, though it was shallow and frail.

“Good job. Let’s have another.” They did, this time together, and Hongjoong gave an approving smile. “That’s a good boy.” He released the scruff, instead carded his hand up into Mingi’s hair, the way Seonghwa sometimes did. “I want a few more, can you do it? Alpha’s asking.”

Mingi nodded. The praise was making him feel stupid, childish. Simultaneously, his body yearned for it. The head alpha of the pack telling him he was doing a good job, touching him in a way that did not hurt… He’d forgotten it was possible.

By the fifth deep breath he was back in his body. Wiggled his fingers a little, touched a hand to his racing heart. “Sorry,” he whispered. He must look so pathetic like this. Acting like a baby.

“No,” Hongjoong said. “I didn’t ask you to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Oh.”

“Keep looking at me. Are you listening?”

Mingi nodded quickly. “Yes.”

“I know you and I haven’t gotten along so good. For a lot of different reasons.” Hongjoong’s expression was dead serious, his grip in Mingi’s hair just firm enough to hold him still. “But you’re pack now, and I don’t take that lightly. I will not let anyone do anything you aren’t comfortable with. Got it? You’re mine now. Like the rest of them. And I’ll keep you safe.”

Tears pricked at Mingi’s eyes. He wanted to answer, to acknowledge it, but it didn’t feel real. It had to be a trick, a manipulation tactic to get him to go into his appointment. Hongjoong couldn’t really mean it, right? Mingi wasn’t really pack, he wasn’t his. Unless… 

“But,” Hongjoong added, and of course there was a but, “we are going to this appointment. Who fucking knows what happened to you in there, we’re gonna make sure you’re okay. Got it?”

Mingi sniffled pitifully. “Yes, Alpha.”

“It’s Hongjoong. Try again.”

“Yes, Hongjoong.”

“Good.”

With that said, Hongjoong gave Mingi’s cheek a little pat and got out of the car. After a moment, mind still spinning, Mingi followed.

♡

Two fractured ribs. Antibiotics for an STI. Ongoing monitoring for his plethora of head injuries. The official confirmation that he would not be getting his scent back. Extended use of suppressants had fucked up his scent glands beyond repair.

And, most manageable of all, a referral to the ophthalmologist, because it turned out Mingi needed glasses.

Hongjoong had expected to sit in the waiting room, but when Mingi had been called back he’d lingered, his hand halfheartedly reaching in Hongjoong’s direction, clearly too afraid to ask. But the moment Hongjoong had casually suggested he would come too, Mingi had stammered out a yes please that had been so sincere it’d nearly made Hongjoong melt.

The fastest way to his heart was being needed. Being wanted. Being asked to keep his pack safe. And Mingi was pack now. They’d all agreed.

All in all, the visit had gone well. Mingi had been tense, but communicative. He’d glanced at Hongjoong a few times for answers to questions he didn’t understand, but for the most part spoke for himself. Explained with as much vagueness possible what had been done to him. Hearing him say I was a fighter, was one thing. Hongjoong had stomached that one just fine. Hearing him explain I was a whore, was a different story. That one was sitting in his gut like putrid oil.

They took the drive home in silence, until Hongjoong remembered Seonghwa had said they needed to get lunch or something. Except now it was nearly four. “You hungry?”

Mingi gave a halfhearted shrug. He’d leaned against the window, arms folded.

“I’m hungry,” Hongjoong said. “Let’s get something. You okay with that?”

Another shrug.

He parallel parked the car on the second try and pointed out a cafe. “They have really good pastries, let’s have a little something before dinner.”

Again, Mingi didn’t answer. But he wasn’t freaking out again, either. And he got out of the car without issue.

Hongjoong got him settled in a booth and ordered for them both. Cappuccinos and white cake to share. Date food. Because usually when he was with a pack member one on one it was a date.

“Thank you,” Mingi said softly. He didn’t glance at the cake, though he sipped his cappuccino. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Not true, you always gotta get something as a reward after the doctor’s. That’s what I say, anyways.”

“Mhm.”

They slipped back into silence. It felt so weird, now. Grounding Mingi during his little panic attack in the car, scruffing him —  that was shit Hongjoong usually wouldn’t do with someone unless he knew for certain they trusted him. But it’d worked, Mingi had calmed as intended. And his submission hadn’t felt so cruel that time, either. It’d felt peaceful.

“I…” Mingi sighed, his shoulders curling slightly. His cup rattled against its dish as he set it back down. “I’d sorta hoped my scent would be able to come back.”

“Me too.” Hongjoong was dangerously close to finishing the cake on his own, so he held the next bite out, the way he often did with Seonghwa. “Try it.”

Mingi didn’t seem impressed by the gesture, but he leaned forward and accepted it anyways. He nodded. “It’s good.”

Silence again. Hongjoong forced himself to sit in it, though it made him itchy. Integrating the other pack members had been a gradual process, months and months of dates and pack meetings. No one had ever been thrust into Hongjoong’s life like this. And adapting to change had always been hard for him.

“Hongjoong?” Mingi’s eyes were glued to the table. “Could I ask something?”

“Of course.”

“It’s about Yunho.”

It usually is. But Hongjoong kept the jokes to himself, instead did his best to nod, to smile. Channel Seonghwa, he told himself. Because Seonghwa was so good at difficult conversations. “What about Yunho?”

“I… like him. A lot.” Mingi recoiled after saying it, ducked his head down in a flinch. When no reaction came he looked up, eyes wide.

“I’m aware,” Hongjoong said slowly. He finished off the cake. “We’re all aware.”

“Oh.”

“Pretty sure he likes you back.”

“Yeah.” Mingi swirled his mug, watching as some of the foam dissolved. “We’ve been kissing. Since a few days ago.”

Hongjoong leaned his face against a hand, smiling sincerely now. “How is it?”

“Oh, it—” Mingi broke into a hesitant, small grin. “Really good. Amazing.”

“He’s a good kisser. I could watch him and Hwa all day.” And then Hongjoong sat up fast, because he’d said too much. “Oh, I mean—”

Mingi let out a tiny, stifled giggle. “It’s fine. I know you’re all…Together.”

“How do you feel about it?” Hongjoong knew it was slightly untraditional. Packs of their size usually had subgroups, a handful of mates, maybe a few trios, but did not usually involve everyone. It’d always worked for them, though. Sure, he was closest with Seonghwa, but he loved everyone else, too. He was involved with everyone else. Even Jongho, who opted out of the sexual relationship, was romantically invested in them. Their dynamic just…clicked. And Hongjoong rarely felt the need to explain it to anybody.

“I feel okay,” Mingi said finally. “I don’t know everyone that well, but you’re all nice to me. That’s all I care about.”

“There’s no pressure, of course.” Hongjoong scraped a bit of icing off the plate. “If it’s only Yunho for you, that’s fine. If it’s Yunho and Yeosang — or more, that’s fine too. Up to you.”

“It’s only Yunho,” he said quickly. “As far as I know. I think.”

A part of Hongjoong wondered if that would ever change. He knew Wooyoung had mentioned hoping it would. “Well, Yunho’s a wonderful guy.”

“He is. That’s why…” Mingi blew out a breath, glanced around them, then focused back to Hongjoong. “I wanted to ask if I would one day be allowed to mate him.”

Hongjoong froze, his coffee halfway to his lips. “You’d have to ask him about it.”

“But—”

“I don’t decide that. For anyone.”

Mingi wilted. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Hongjoong forced himself to breathe, to stay calm. But it was just never ending, wasn’t it? The bullshit in Mingi’s head. This sick idea that a pack was owned, was controlled. The world through his eyes must be so scary. “You didn’t know. But if I had to guess, I think he’d be thrilled if you asked.”

Mingi smiled just barely. One of his teeth was a bit crooked, and Hongjoong wondered if it was an old fighting injury. He began stacking their dishes together and returned the smile. It was time to go home now, Seonghwa would be waiting to hear how the appointment went.

And when Hongjoong said it’d went all right, he wouldn’t even be lying.

♡

Mingi had expected to be ashamed.

Because he wasn’t supposed to have things wrong with him, and whenever he did it was his fault. Injuries that took him out of fights had always made Handler so angry, so upset. Mingi could remember sitting on the hard table in the med room, Handler screaming in his face, fists clenched as he barely restrained himself from striking. Same went for when customers refused to use protection and Handler had to take valuable time out of the day to get Mingi tested. Always Mingi’s fault. Always something he’d done wrong, something he’d allowed.

This time around felt substantially better. Things were broken in him, he needed medicine and glasses, but no one seemed upset. Sad, maybe. Hongjoong’s expression had been very serious all during the appointment, but he had not brought it up on the way home. There had been no disappointment, no fury. He had not forbidden Mingi from mating Yunho one day, instead removed himself from the decision entirely.

Same went for Yunho. He’d taken the news solemnly, his eyes getting shiny at the mention of the STI, only to brighten back up after that. “Glasses?” he said. “Oh, you’re going to be adorable.”

Mingi frowned. He hadn’t even considered how he might look. “Maybe. I guess.”

“Yeosang!” Yunho leaned off the edge of the couch, yelling in the direction of the stairs. “Mingi’s getting glasses!”

But instead Wooyoung appeared, began skipping down the steps, a big grin on his face. “Holy shit, have you picked them yet?” He dropped down in between them, one leg across Mingi’s lap, the other folded under him. “Let me see, let me see.”

Mingi blinked, stunned. But the warmth of Wooyoung’s body wasn’t bad, he supposed, so he let it go. “I just picked the most normal ones. They’re in the mail.”

“Ahh,” Wooyoung pretended to clutch at his heart. “Normal is so boring, you could’ve gotten something cool.”

“I’m sure they’re very cool,” Yunho said. He crawled over and dropped across both their laps, sprawling out on his stomach. “Now scratch my back.”

Mingi gave a little laugh, but who was he to say no? So he reached down, ran his nails lightly down Yunho’s spine, across his shoulders.

“By the way, how did it go?” Wooyoung asked. Leg now partially under Yunho, he leaned the rest of himself against Mingi’s shoulder, face tucked by his neck. This close his evergreen smell was overwhelming, almost like a christmas tree. “Did you and Hongjoong fight again?”

“Oh my god, stop,” Yunho said.

But Mingi shook his head. “It was fine. He bought me a coffee after.”

“Aw.” Wooyoung wiggled his leg free and tucked his knees to his chest, then nuzzled himself against Mingi’s arm until he lifted it up, wrapped it around his shoulders. “He likes you.”

“No he doesn’t.”

“He totally does,” Yunho said. “He’s getting all pack leader protective over you, I can sense it.”

“Did you need me?” Yeosang appeared, shirtless and in pajama pants. “I was— Oh, cuddle puddle.” And then he joined, too. Took Yunho’s head into his lap, nudged himself under Mingi’s other arm, and took over the back scratching. “Mmm,” he murmured. And he seemed to vibrate a little, like he was purring. “Alpha.”

Wooyoung perked up. “You’re talking about me, right?”

“Shush,” Yeosang said. “Talking about Mingi.”

Mingi felt hot. He’d never been touched by so many people at once. He’d never felt so warm, so safe. Like his whole body was being regulated just by them touching him, just by their scents mixing. Oh, he thought a bit stupidly. That’s the point of a pack.

“Minki’s getting glasses,” Yunho said again. “Tell him how cute he’ll be.”

Yeosang’s purr intensified. “So cute.”

The front door shut. Seonghwa’s lemon scent hit the room like a big rush of home. “Oh my god, stay there.” He rushed off upstairs, and they heard a door slam and a thump. A second later he was back, already out of his work clothes, hurriedly pulling his hair away from his face. “I need this. Whole day was awful.” And then he too collapsed into them, on top of Yunho, half in Mingi’s lap, wedged in between him and Wooyoung, also claiming a place under his arm. He stuck one wrist over his shoulder for Wooyoung to hold onto, and the other he began to rub gently across Mingi’s throat.

“Don’t hog him,” Yeosang said. And he plucked the wrist, leaned in to nuzzle his cheek across Mingi’s scent gland, before guiding Seonghwa back over. “Now I’m in there, too.”

Mingi felt crazy. His brain was heavy with fog. He couldn’t have gotten up if he’d wanted to, his entire body was groggy and content. Every time he inhaled he felt drunk off it; the press of a tongue on his neck, his wrist. He couldn’t differentiate anymore, not who was scenting where, nor which smell was what. It all mixed together into a big soup, and he was happy to stew.

Yunho gave a low whine, because no one was scratching his back anymore. “Where are the betas?”

“Jongho was downstairs gaming,” Wooyoung said. He wrestled for a moment, trying to get his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll call.”

Sure enough, within a few minutes he came as well. And though he gave them all an unaffected stare, with a little pouting he joined them. Held Yeosang from behind, slid a hand into Yunho’s hair. The couch was nearly at capacity.

“This okay?” Wooyoung had Mingi’s wrist at his lips, waiting for permission. Talking was impossible, but Mingi managed a nod. “Thank god.” And then Wooyoung had his mouth on Mingi’s scent gland, was sucking on it just barely, running his tongue along it. “I swear I can taste you.”

“Placebo effect,” Jongho said. “I’ve noticed the same thing. I smell coffee even when he’s not making it.”

“Aw,” Yunho said, sounding almost as gone as Mingi was. “Our coffee boy.”

“Where is—” San rounded the corner. “What, are you people avoiding me? No invite to the pack snuggle?”

“I sent a text,” Wooyoung said, though his words were muffled against Mingi’s skin.

“Come here, brat.” San yanked Wooyoung clear off the couch, took his spot, and then resettled him in his lap. “Think you can get away from me? Hm?” He laughed a little, kissed him on the mouth, and then gave him back Mingi’s hand. “How did the doctor’s appointment go?”

Mingi gave a lazy smile. He couldn’t talk. His body was buzzing, tingling. His alpha felt safer than it had in years, maybe ever. Soothed by the presence of the pack. And he trusted them all, he really did. Almost four weeks with them. A whole month. And no one had been hurt, no one had been humiliated. Everything about them was real.

Seonghwa laughed. “He’s too scent drunk to answer, look at him.”

And then all six of them pushed a little closer, cooed at Mingi’s lax expression, and smothered him with another round of scenting.

Yunho managed to flip onto his back, and he snatched Mingi’s hand away from Wooyoung. “Mine,” he said. And it was clearly a joke, but also so firm and possessive that Mingi could’ve swooned. And when his tongue lapped across his wrist, when the rush of sugary vanilla hit Mingi’s system — he opened his mouth and released a soft, contented moan. His body had never felt this good. Not in his entire life.

Hongjoong’s scent joined them, though he lingered a few steps away. He smiled. “You’re all so cute together.”

Seonghwa beckoned him over. “Come on.”

“No, I don’t…” Hongjoong glanced to Mingi, met his eyes, and his smile faded just barely. “I’ll let you all have this. I can start dinner.”

But that didn’t feel right. Even though Mingi’s system still saw Hongjoong as something to be wary of, his mind was beginning to adjust. If Hongjoong wanted to hurt him he’d had endless opportunities to. If anything, he’d proven to be something stable. Consistent. He’d spoken firmly in the car, he’d been dominant, but Mingi had not felt any fear.

“No,” Mingi murmured. He blinked hard, willing himself to wake up, and held out a hand. “You too, Alpha.”

And though he expected Hongjoong to correct him, this time he did not. Simply took his hand and allowed himself to be yanked into the pile of limbs and kisses and warmth.

Deep in Mingi’s soul something sighed.

Mine.

Chapter Text

Month 1 — the glasses

Mingi really didn’t look at himself much. But when his glasses came in the mail he took the box to the upstairs bathroom and turned the lock. He wanted a few moments to himself, to figure out how this adjustment to his face would make him feel.

Glasses. He never would’ve thought. Sure, sometimes he had to really squint when he read, but that had felt normal. He’d never struggled in the ring, at least not that he’d noticed. And any blurred vision he’d usually chalked up to a concussion, or something. After all, his face was routinely getting hit.

Still, he could not disregard the immediate shift in his vision when he put them on. Like the world had sharpened a bit.

He’d chosen a wireframe pair, plain black. Ordinary, nothing eye catching. Because the last thing he ever wanted was to be noticed. But as he stared at himself, his reflection making him slightly queasy, he decided they sort of suited him. He didn’t look awful, at least. And Yunho had seemed to think the idea of him in glasses was cute, so that was a good thing.

Mingi blew out a breath. Ruffled his hair a bit, pulled it out from behind his ears, tried to get his uneven layers to cooperate. He hadn’t had a real haircut in ages.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what Yunho saw in him. Yunho was so… perfect. His pretty, symmetrical features. So much of Mingi was uneven, off kilter from broken bones, split lips, loose teeth. Even his body. He liked his muscle — he always had. But without Handler forcing him to do it, he’d stopped conditioning, instead spent his days reading or playing video games. It’d made him soft. So now his body was just injured, fucked up, and not even that impressive looking.

He tried again to fix himself. Tugged the sweater this way and that, buttoned it all the way up, and then undid the first two. Still not right.

If he was smaller, maybe a beta, he could get away with being shy and insecure. If he was more arrogant he would better match his body, his looks. But instead he was neither. Big, but afraid. An alpha with crooked teeth and glasses, too afraid to even mention to Yunho the possibility of them one day being mates.

Mingi gave one last halfhearted try. Parted his hair a bit straighter, forced himself to smile, to act like he really meant it. But that only made his reflection look stupid.

Suddenly Handler was in his brain again. He would’ve laughed at this, at Mingi trying to look nice. You’re lucky anyone pays to fuck you. I wouldn’t for free.

Shut up, Mingi ordered himself. No more thinking like this. He didn’t care what Handler thought. Yunho’s opinion was the only one that mattered anymore. The only one that would ever matter again.

This was the new him. A version that wore cardigans and glasses, who slept in bed with an omega and did not feel so afraid all the time. He’d made it one month here. The best month of his life. He’d make it another. Even if normalcy felt so strange to him, even if his system did not know how to exist without a threat.

He’d figure it out. Somehow.

Month 2 — the trigger

Seonghwa bumped the car door shut with one hip, the final box propped up against his other one. “I can take one of those bags.”

But Mingi shook his head, arms full with two boxes and a few tote bags. “I got it.”

“Really,” Seonghwa said. He reached out for the one of the bags, not feeling right only carrying the smallest and lightest box. “It’s my stuff.”

“Uh uh.” Mingi was smiling now, all crooked teeth and wire frame glasses. He’d wrangled his hair into a bun that morning, though a big piece of it at the nape of his neck had slipped out. “I’m here to help.”

Begrudgingly, Seonghwa accepted it, and they headed towards the front door. Best to just let alphas feel helpful, he figured. Besides, Mingi asserting himself was still so rare, so he better appreciate it while he could.

It was a Monday, and Seonghwa had intentionally cleared his schedule for the morning in order to have an office reset day. A new set of comfy chairs to put together, an ergonomic desk chair, and a handful of knick knacks and decor pieces. Mingi was the only one around to help, so he’d roped him into coming with.

He set the box down, found the right key, and pushed open the door. “Well, this is it.”

Mingi dropped the boxes, set the bags by the door, and surveyed the office. “It’s nice,” he said.

“I’ve only been here a few months,” Seonghwa explained. “It’ll feel more like me, I think, with all this stuff.”

“It still feels like you now.” Mingi walked a slow circle around the room, finger lightly running across his desk, the little stuffed cat that sat beside the lamp, the stack of books piled in one corner. “What do you do here, anyways?”

Seonghwa smiled fondly and began unpacking the first bag. “Couples counseling. Sometimes pack dynamics, too. I’m brand new, only got licensed last spring.”

Mingi exhaled. “Wow.”

“Actually, I was wondering.” Seonghwa turned away, focused on the lego flower bouquet he’d brought, careful not to damage it as he removed it from the bag. “Maybe you should talk to someone. I could refer—”

Smash.

Seonghwa whirled, already praying that noise hadn’t come from anything he cared about. No such luck, however. His diploma, which Hongjoong had gotten custom framed, lay in pieces on the floor. Mingi above it, hands still outstretched, his mouth open.

Before he could stop himself, Seonghwa let out a frustrated groan. “Fuck.” He dropped to his knees, began carefully arranging the pieces of glass, scooted the degree away from the mess. The frame was in two pieces, the break cutting right through the engraved message.

With love, Hongjoong. 

It was fine. Of course it was fine. They could glue it back together and replace the glass. He knew that in his logical brain, but his emotions felt aflame. The physical representation of his biggest accomplishment in life, of his mate’s support, snapped in two.

And then, icing on the cake, a piece of glass caught his thumb. The blood welled instantly, dripped down onto the light gray area rug. “Fucking hell.” He glanced up at Mingi, a slightly delirious laugh inching up his throat. “This is not my day, huh? I guess—”

Fuck.

Mingi’s hands were clenched before him, so tight they’d gone bloodless. His eyes were vacant. Not afraid, not upset, just empty. He was checking out, fleeing someplace else. Jaw clenched, though his lip trembled just barely. He’d lurched into freeze mode. He was terrified.

“Oh, Mingi, baby.” Seonghwa abandoned the glass, stood, stepped over it. “I’m not mad at you, it’s all right.”

It was like his words didn’t even penetrate. Mingi did not react, instead stayed frozen, shaking just barely, eyes staring at nothing.

Seonghwa reached for him, touched lightly along his arm. The touch provoked a tiny, suppressed flinch, and Mingi squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s just me,” Seonghwa said. “You’re okay.” He guided Mingi’s hand to his chest, eased the fingers out flat. “Feel your heart. You’re safe. Big breath in.” It was unclear if Mingi heard him or not, so Seonghwa modeled the action, took an exaggerated deep breath in through his nose, held it for a few seconds, and then blew out through his mouth. “No one’s mad at you, puppy. You’re doing so good.”

A tear slipped down Mingi’s cheek. His jaw shook. He had yet to take that breath.

Seonghwa reached up, pressed his palm firmly against Mingi’s forehead, held his other against his scent gland. Pumped out the most calming, sweet pheromones possible. Grounding. Anything to get him back into his body. If Hongjoong was here he would’ve pulled the alpha card, would’ve used submission as a tool. But that wasn’t Seonghwa’s style, especially not with someone as fragile as this.

Honestly, it was good for him to experience this here, where he was safe. Teach his body that mistakes didn’t equal pain anymore.

A moment passed. Mingi managed a big breath.

“Good boy,” Seonghwa crooned. “Wonderful job, can you open your eyes for me? Look at me when you breathe?”

Two watery brown eyes answered him. Red rimmed, unfocused, but there. Another breath. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Thank you for apologizing,” Seonghwa praised. “But it was an accident. Nothing to forgive. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Sit down. Drink some water.”

Mingi obeyed. Slumped into Seonghwa’s desk chair, accepted the bottle of water and sipped at it. They stayed that way for nearly ten minutes, until deep breathing came easy and the water was gone. Then, head ducked just a little, gaze present again, Mingi gave a little sigh. “Sorry you had to see that.”

Seonghwa shook his head. “Don’t be. Are you back, now?”

“I think so.”

“Good.” Seonghwa leaned forward, took Mingi’s hand in his, held it so that their wrists pressed together. “Tell me where you went.”

“Huh?”

“Where you brain went. You broke the frame and you disappeared. What were you thinking about?”

Mingi swallowed roughly. Shrugged.

“The fighting ring?”

“No.” Mingi’s shoulders dropped a little, he was curling himself up the way he always did, the way the pack was working very hard to stop. “I felt like a little kid.”

Seonghwa hummed an acknowledgment. “Ah, okay. And what would’ve happened to little Mingi? If you’d broken something?”

Mingi blinked hard, the question seemed to surprise him. “Um. I guess dad would’ve slapped me for it.”

Seonghwa’s chest squeezed, but he kept his face steady. Mingi didn’t need his horror or his pity. “That’s really scary.”

“I don’t like thinking about it,” Mingi said. “Even though I’ve had a lot worse.”

Seonghwa took a slow breath, forced himself to relax a few muscles before Mingi picked up on his anger. But the mental image of a tiny version of Mingi making an honest mistake, backing away from the violence of his father, only for that same father to later traffic him into a fighting ring…

Breathe, he told himself. Getting upset would only panic Mingi more. Instead he pulled his wrist up to his neck for a quick, reassuring scenting. And then, just in case no one had ever gone out of their way to say it: “you didn’t deserve any of that, you know.”

Mingi shrugged.

“I mean it, Mingi.”

“I know.”

But it didn’t feel like he did.

Month 3 — the alpha

“Mingi?” Yeosang lingered a few steps away, realizing all at once that he’d interrupted an intimate moment. Mingi and Yunho on the couch together, entangled, lips slightly reddened. “Sorry. I can come back.”

“You’re fine,” Yunho said, waving him closer. He had his legs strewn across Mingi’s lap, arms encircling his neck. The two of them had gotten bold over the last month or so, had begun kissing in shared pack spaces. Sometimes Mingi even accepted a quick kiss in the presence of Hongjoong, though doing so got him visibly nervous. “What’s up?”

Yeosang sat carefully on the arm of the couch, folded his hands together, and settled them on his knees. He felt nervous asking for things like this, things he shouldn’t need anymore. But Wooyoung had a big test today and couldn’t come with like he usually did. “One of my prescriptions is in. I have to pick it up by tonight.”

Mingi glanced to Yunho, who gave a little nod in Yeosang’s direction. Encouragement.

Yeosang released a tiny, nervous laugh. “Would you go with me, Mingi?” Mingi’s mouth opened slightly, but he did not answer. Yeosang would rather melt into the floor than explain further. “I— I have this thing, I guess, I mean—” He cleared his throat. He hated talking about it, and it’d been forever since he’d had to. The rest of the pack already knew. And if Wooyoung or San wasn’t available, then Hongjoong usually was. But today they were all going to be out late, and that left Mingi.

“Yeosang doesn’t usually leave the house without an alpha, or without San,” Yunho finally explained. He reached out, took one of Yeosang’s hands, gave it a squeeze. “A few…bad experiences.”

“Oh.” Mingi’s expression eased slightly. “Yeah. I could come with. I’d love to.”

A bit of the tension in Yeosang’s chest eased. Mingi didn’t seem annoyed by the request. But why would he have been? Mingi was… Mingi. He never asked for anything or argued. Really, he’d been a seamless addition to the pack. Helpful whenever he could be, quiet. And it’d taken a while, but he was beginning to seek out touches from the rest of the pack, not just Yunho.

And, true to his word, an hour or so later Mingi was waiting by the door with his shoes on. It was getting colder, so he’d donned one of Yunho’s puffers and a hat. He looked cute, and something in Yeosang’s heart turned over, put its belly up. He got this way with all his pack members, his inner omega’s obsession with being claimed, being safe. And Mingi felt safe. He really did. 

Yeosang drove, because Mingi didn’t know how.

“Yunho said bad experiences,” Mingi said after a few minutes of quiet. “Are you okay?”

“For the most part, yeah.” That was the easiest way to put it, and because Yeosang didn’t want to explain. He knew Mingi would listen well, knew he might even relate to parts of it. But — and maybe this was unfair — it felt stupid. Yeosang had experienced some scary things, but it wasn’t the same as Mingi’s stuff. He hadn’t been bought and sold like a slave, hadn’t been trapped for years in what was essentially a dungeon. In comparison, Yeosang’s worry just felt…small.

Omega worry. Proof he was the weaker subgender. Though Seonghwa would scold him for thinking like that, even on accident.

“I’m glad I can help.” Mingi glanced over from the passenger seat. “How do you get to work every day?”

“San drives me.” Yeosang smiled at the thought. San hadn’t questioned it, hadn’t complained. They’d started doing it a year ago, when Yeosang’s panic attacks in the mornings before work had begun really getting out of hand. It was supposed to be temporary, just a week or two tops. But then it’d turned into a month, and six months. And then neither of them ever discussed finding any other way.

Yeosang found parking about two blocks away, and they got out to walk.

At first Mingi stuck his hands in his coat pockets, but then he seemed to sense Yeosang’s nervousness, and offered one over. And even though the sun was nearly set, and the street was a bit busier than normal, Yeosang felt all right. They reached the pharmacy hand in hand, pressed arm to arm.

Safe.

“I’m surprised people bother you,” Mingi said. The after-work crowd was in full force, the line was long. “I thought mated omegas were off limits.”

“They are.” Yeosang looked away, untangled their hands to get his ID out. “Not everyone cares, though, unless the alpha is right there. It doesn’t help that I’m…” He didn’t finish. He wasn’t even sure how he’d meant to describe himself. Weak wasn’t the right word, because he’d worked hard to put on some muscle. And it was a bit self-obsessed to say it was because he was attractive, even though he knew he was. Really, Yeosang got the feeling there was just some innate quality about him, maybe that alphas could sense, that identified him as easy prey.

Fear, his brain supplied. They smell it.

“Oh my god.”

Yeosang looked up sharply. “What?” But Mingi was smiling, staring at a sales rack with plushie toys on the other side of the pharmacy. Yeosang gave him a nudge. “Go look, I’m fine here.”

“No, It’s—”

“Yunho would love that puppy. Go.”

The line moved. Yeosang took a step forward alone. But Mingi would be back in just a minute, he was still in shouting range. Nothing bad had happened. He was safe.

“That your boyfriend?” Yeosang stiffened. The man behind him had claimed Mingi’s spot, was now looking over Yeosang’s shoulder. He touched a finger to his neck, tugged down his coat collar, and felt right over Wooyoung’s mating mark. “He didn’t let you bite him back? You deserve better.”

“No, he—”

“He’s not?” The touch on his neck drifted down to his shoulder and stayed there. “Who’s got you, then?”

Yeosang stepped away from his hand. His heart was lodged in his throat, but he’d dealt with this shit before. Traditionalist assholes that viewed omegas, particularly male ones, as objects. “Please leave me alone.”

“I’m just making conversation.”

Mingi was still at the plushie stand. He had the puppy dog in one hand, a turtle in the other. Choosing. Yeosang kept his back to the stranger, focused on the line ahead of him and the glacial pace it was moving at. This was fine. He’d encountered so much worse. A creepy alpha in the pharmacy was nothing. This wasn’t real danger, not with the amount of people around him.

The hand grabbed his shoulder again. “You’re being rude, you know.”

Yeosang shook it off, stumbled a step forward, nearly crashing into the person ahead of him. “Don’t touch me,” he said. But it came out quiet and broken sounding. Like all the progress he’d made was gone, like his system was powering down.

“I was just gonna say you’re pretty. Omegas these days, no respect for—”

“You need something?” Mingi returned, the stuffed dog under one arm, and stepped between Yeosang and the stranger. Side by side the comparison was comical. Mingi was taller, broader. Even in his sky blue beanie and puffer coat he looked intimidating. He’d slipped into a stance Yeosang had never seen on him, with his chin up, his shoulders back. He looked like he knew how to handle himself in a fight.

Oh, Yeosang thought a bit stupidly. Because he does.

The alpha faltered. “I was—”

“Huh?” Mingi took a step closer. “You talk to me. Not him. Me.”

“Never mind.” The alpha was visibly folding. Shoulders rounding, bravado evaporated.

Mingi kept himself between them, turned back to Yeosang, and gave a careful smile. “You all right?”

Yeosang stared, enamored. Mingi stood up for me. He felt warm, a big rush of safety and security. His omega felt like Posy in the sunshine, like it wanted to stretch out and purr.

He nodded. Found Mingi’s hand again, laced their fingers together, and mouthed a silent thank you.

After a moment he leaned even closer, rubbed his cheek against Mingi’s shoulder. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, Mingi seemed to be glowing too.

Month 4 — the rut

It was inevitable. Lingering in the back of Mingi’s brain. Too frightening to acknowledge aloud, too humiliating. To explain to Yunho, to Hongjoong, to anyone. Saying it felt disrespectful, like he was throwing the pack’s kindness back in their face. He’d been here for three months, now. In that time no one had hurt him, no one had held him down and forced him to do anything. No one had even been mean, unless by accident.

Mingi had every reason in the world to trust them, he had evidence. And yet…

He knew one of the other alphas would be rutting eventually. He knew the smell of it would stink up the whole second floor of the house. The smell of sweat and sex and knotting. It wouldn’t be like at the ring, he knew that. Seonghwa loved Hongjoong. Anything they did together, rutting or not, was consensual. Same went for Wooyoung and his mates. And no one would expect Mingi to be involved, no one would even mention it to him.

So why was he still so afraid?

Seonghwa had tried to talk to him about it once, in the week following the incident at his office. Had called the things that made Mingi panic triggers. Had said it wasn’t his fault, was just his body and his brain trying to protect him. Explained that he’d had to live in survival mode for a long time, and now it was hard to regulate correctly. It’d made sense, but it hadn’t helped.

Secretly, Mingi just hoped the others would never rut again, and he’d never have to confront it.

But that wasn’t realistic.

It happened on a Wednesday.

Hongjoong came home from work early. Brushed past Mingi in the living room with barely a hello, his face flushed, and beelined for upstairs. Thirty minutes later Seonghwa was home, too.

Mingi knew better. Knew to stay downstairs, to focus on putting away the clean dishes, doing what he could to prep dinner. Then the rest of the pack came home, ate with him, dispersed for their own evening activities. But Seonghwa and Hongjoong were still upstairs. Their closed door only two down from Mingi and Yunho’s. He had to pass it in order to go to bed. He had to.

“Minki?” Yunho hugged him from behind, nestled his face against his shoulder, and yawned. “Tired. Kiss me asleep please?”

On any other night Mingi would’ve agreed instantly. That was how most days ended, anyways. They cuddled and talked and made out and scented until one of them got too fuzzy and slipped into sleep.

But tonight that comfort laid past Hongjoong’s door. It meant walking by, smelling it, knowing what was happening in there. He felt so stupid for being afraid. Hongjoong did not want him, that much had been made clear. He had a mate to spend his rut with, two other omegas beyond that. Most alphas didn’t want anything to do with another alpha during a rut, when their instincts were extra territorial.

But Mingi knew sometimes those instincts swung too far. Sometimes they turned into a violent sort of domination.

“What’s going on in there?” Yunho faced him, gave a gentle flick to his forehead.

Mingi shook his head. Too humiliating to explain. He knew Yunho was aware that things had been done to him, but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it. Didn’t want to admit outright that the smell of a rut made him assume he’d be hurting soon, that someone would be holding him down, forcing his legs apart, ordering him to take it.

Conquer. Pin. Fuck.

“You okay?” Yunho’s head tipped to one side like a puppy, and the motion was so sincere and cute that Mingi managed a smile.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Go upstairs. I’ll meet you in a minute.”

Yunho gave an exaggerated sigh. “You gotta stop doing the dishes on Wooyoung’s nights.”

“I don’t mind.”

He really didn’t. Especially now, when it was a convenient way to burn another ten minutes. As if the second floor would clear in that time, as if Hongjoong’s rut would somehow end in the span of one day.

Mingi started the dishwasher. The house felt empty around him. Everyone had found something to do, had settled in for bed. There wasn’t anything left but going upstairs.

Trigger, he reminded himself. It’s normal. Maybe knowing it would scare him would make it easier. Maybe he could brace for it. He’d move fast. Pinch his nose shut. But what if there were sounds, too?

He folded his hands together, padded slowly over to the staircase. The hall light was off, the steps seemed to rise up into a void. He hadn’t even taken one step up and the smell was already prevalent. The heady musk of a rutting alpha. Dominant on his senses, squashing out Yunho’s smell, which was typically soaked into all his clothing, his hair.

Stupid. He knew better. Hongjoong didn’t want him. Hongjoong wasn’t going to hurt him. But his  brain seemed determined to remind him of all the times this smell had accompanied his nightmares. All the times he’d been bitched. All the times his own body had betrayed him, had reacted in ways he had not consented to. They’d always used that against him. Maybe it’d helped the ones with a conscience sleep better at night.

He usually tried hard not to think about it. The violence he could come to terms with. The fighting and the punishments and the hunger. But whenever his brain tried to think about the sex, what had been done to him and what he’d been made to do to others… He had to cram all that someplace else, because otherwise it’d drown him.

He took the first step. The second.

It didn’t need to be this hard. He could’ve made it up the stairs three times by now. So, he forced himself. Took the steps two at a time, even though the rut smell was invading him like a tangible thing, clawing its way down his throat. His hand, gripped along the railing, was slick with sweat.

He reached the second floor. Yunho’s door was in sight. Just a few steps away, just a few seconds away. And once inside he could bury himself in his sweetness, inhale his pheromones and fall asleep with his mouth on his throat. That’d feel good. It would. He just needed to get that far.

And yet, the smell… Instinctively, his body yearned to submit. To drop to his knees, bare his throat, pray that whatever alpha had gotten him for the night would be gentle. It was all so physical, no amount of thinking and reassuring himself seemed to help. He knew in his brain that he would not be touched. But it was like his body had learned nothing in four months, like his body was still convinced this pack was going to turn on him.

Mingi reached up, tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, pushed his glassed up on his nose, and moved. It only took five steps to reach Yunho’s door. He fumbled with the knob, pushed it open, and slammed it shut behind him. Already, his body relaxed. Yunho’s smell, the gentle reassurance of an omega, his omega—

“Oh, god.” Mingi stumbled forward to the bed, practically tackled Yunho back into the pillows. He pushed his head to one side, stuck his face right up against his throat. Sniffing didn’t feel like enough, so he licked a long stripe up his neck, another one. Desperate like he’d just presented, like he had no manners. But he and Yunho hadn’t had scenting manners in ages, they both knew they wanted as much of the other as possible.

Yunho giggled. “You’re tickling me.”

“Sorry.” But Mingi didn’t stop, pressed a wet open mouthed kiss to his gland, his jaw, then his cheek. “Need you.”

Yunho, pliant and open as ever, let it happen. Settled a hand into Mingi’s hair, guided his body closer, until they were sandwiched together. “Come here.” And then they were attached at the mouth, tongues pressed together, and the rush of vanilla that hit Mingi’s system was better than an orgasm.

Even after months, kissing was still novel. Still unfamiliar. Every time felt brand new. The feeling of a tongue on his, gentle and curious. The bite of Yunho’s teeth, the feeling of them under Mingi’s lips, the slight clash of them against his own. He wanted to drop open Yunho’s jaw, crawl inside him, explore every piece of his mouth, his lips, maybe his entire body. Because just looking and touching and being close hardly felt like enough, anymore.

Yunho pulled back. “What’s going on?” He sniffed hard, as if he could pick up on Mingi’s mood that way. “Is something wrong?”

“Hongjoong’s rutting.” And he left it at that, tucked himself back against Yunho’s neck, determined to stay there for the rest of the night.

“Baby,” Yunho said. Though he did not continue. Instead slid a hand down Mingi’s back, scratched between his shoulder blades, kept him close. Held him like he wasn’t so big, wasn’t supposed to be an alpha. Held him like he was somebody worth comforting.

“Scares me.”

“I know.”

“And—” Mingi cut himself off. Because if he opened this can of worms it would consume the whole night, his whole brain. Better to focus on shutting down and going stupid off Yunho’s scent.

Though, stuck in the back of his brain, was a question. The ruts were inevitable, and they were hard. But at least Mingi did not have to involve himself with them. But what about Yunho? What about when he went into heat?

Month 5 — the kiss

“Wake him up.”

Mingi looked down at his side. Yeosang had been snoring softly for a few minutes, his head pillowed on Mingi’s thigh, arms wrapped around a stuffed shark from Ikea. “I can’t. He looks too peaceful.”

Wooyoung groaned, reached over for the abandoned switch controller, and stuck it it in Mingi’s hand. “Then you gotta play.”

Mingi frowned. Playing Mario was one thing, but this game was a story based one, something Yeosang and Wooyoung had been doing together for weeks. “Is that okay?”

Wooyoung scoffed, already on the menu screen. He turned, rested his back against the armrest, stuck his feet under Mingi’s leg. “He can deal with the consequences of his nap. Besides, he just watches, usually. All you gotta do is hit A to move on from the dialogue. If it gets hard I’ll take over.”

Mingi nodded. Simple enough. Besides, having the two on either side of him felt nice. Cozy and warm, the soft sounds of Yeosang’s breath against his leg. It was moments like this, pack moments, that made him realize how lucky he was. A whole house full of people that were kind to him, that saw him as somebody safe enough to curl up beside.

And, though Wooyoung was also an alpha, Mingi felt a fierce protectiveness for each of them. After all, he was bigger, stronger. It was his job to keep them safe.

They played for about an hour, and then Yeosang sat up abruptly, blinked sleepily in their direction. “Fell asleep?”

Wooyoung laughed, reached over and ruffled his hair. “Missed the whole game, basically.”

Yeosang just yawned, resettled against Mingi’s shoulder. “Oh,” he said. Then, a moment later, “I gotta go to bed.”

“Do it. Bet San’s lonely.”

“You should call him. See if he’ll come carry me.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Really?”

“No.” Yeosang heaved out a sigh. “I guess I’ll manage.” Then he sat up a bit, crawled over Mingi’s lap, and gave Wooyoung a quick kiss on the mouth. “Night.” He turned to Mingi, leaned in and kissed him on the lips, too. “Sleep well.”

The three of them froze. Yeosang’s eyes widened.

“Oh.” Wooyoung released a tight, funny laugh. “Okay.”

“Oh my god.” Yeosang clapped a hand over his mouth. “I’m so sorry. I just— I thought—”

“It’s all right.” Mingi’s head was spinning. He was on autopilot. “I didn’t mind.”

“That was my fault, I wasn’t thinking, I’m—”

“Yeosang.” Mingi cupped his face in his hands, looked him dead in the eyes. “I’m not upset. It was nice.” Then, to prove he meant it, he put another light peck on Yeosang’s bottom lip. “See? We’re pack. It’s okay.”

“Not fair,” Wooyoung said, and it made Mingi’s face get hot. “If I’d known I was allowed to just kiss him I—”

So, Mingi leaned in his direction too, gave him a quick kiss. Too quick to mean much, too quick to stir any questions in his chest. Because Mingi didn’t know what this meant, he didn’t know if it meant he wanted to be more with the rest of the pack. But he knew he felt close with them, and soft, fast kisses like this did not frighten him.

And the blush it put on Yeosang’s face, the sheepish smile on Wooyoung, was worth it. It meant Mingi was wanted. Was liked.

“Here.” Mingi carefully stood, then scooped Yeosang up in his arms. “I’ll carry you.”

Though, predictably, this raised another complaint from Wooyoung. “Not fair.”

But he smiled as he said it.

Month 6 — the spanking

Six months in and the idea of Mingi finding a job had not been brought up once. As badly as he wanted the independence and security that came with money, a part of him was grateful. The idea of interacting with strangers, of venturing outside of this wonderful pack bubble, was unbearable. He’d find the bravery for it one day, he’d have to. But for the time being they deemed him to still be recovering, and he was all right with that.

Still, he didn’t waste his time at home. He made an effort to be helpful. Cleaned up around the house best he could, began working through a cook book, putting together simple recipes, packing the other’s lunches. He felt like his mother, ironically. Like the pack omega, here to take care of everyone. If his father could see him like this, cooking and cleaning and reading, he would’ve been disgusted.

“Seonghwa,” Mingi said. They were sitting together on he and Hongjoong’s bed folding laundry. Typically everyone handled their own, but the dirty baskets had begun to overflow, so Mingi had taken it upon himself to do a few loads. Seonghwa was kind enough to help fold. “Can I ask something?”

“Of course.”

Mingi took a moment. He wanted his words to be right. Especially with something like this, something so far beyond his realm of understanding. Because, although he knew the others were getting spanked regularly, and that it wasn’t anything cruel, he still didn’t…get it. The words they threw around. Discipline and maintenance and kink. He’d thought kink meant leather and handcuffs. But from what he’d seen, the punishment dynamic wasn’t sexual. Or, if it was, it’d been hidden from him.

He set aside a sock he’d been holding, unable to find its match. “What’s it really like getting spanked?”

A tiny smile crossed Seonghwa’s lips. Otherwise he did not give much of a reaction, remained focused on the laundry. “It’s vulnerable,” he said. “But being vulnerable with someone who takes care of you is nice.”

“It hurts?”

“Oh, yeah. It can hurt a lot. It’s meant to.” Seonghwa set aside the pile he’d been sorting, set a hand on Mingi’s knee. “But it’s safe. A safe way to get your head back into your body, to put yourself totally in somebody else’s hands. And it gives you a big rush of happy chemicals, and then after you get snuggled and kissed and taken care of.” His hand squeezed. “It’s not for everyone. But it’s worked for us.”

Mingi considered that for a moment. Considered consenting to pain without fear. Pain with trust. It’d never been like that, not in his whole life. Even with his family. His dad had loved him, at least Mingi thought he had, but punishments had been doled out without care, without caution. It’d always felt scary.

“If you’re curious,” Seonghwa said slowly, “ask Hongjoong. Try it for yourself.”

“That sounds embarrassing.”

Seonghwa breathed out a laugh. “It is. That’s part of it.” He gave Mingi’s cheek an affectionate pinch, then fixed a piece of his hair. “Besides. I can’t speak for you, but I know sometimes it feels really healing to submit because you want to, not because you have to.”

Mingi hadn’t considered that. The word submission had always been a negative thing in his brain, proof of his weakness and inherent failure as an alpha. But, if he’d learned anything in the last six months, it was that Hongjoong was deserving of his title as head alpha. He was good. He never yelled or hurt or demanded. Even last week, when he and Wooyoung had disagreed on something regarding money, Hongjoong had heard him out, had been fair.

Submitting to Hongjoong didn’t feel painful. It felt natural. Safe, even.

Mingi gave it a full week to think about it. Forced himself to really imagine what it’d feel like. And, to his surprise, he didn’t…mind it. If anything, it’d be nice to understand what the others were experiencing, why they liked it so much.

So, with shaking hands and a slightly uneasy stomach, he approached Hongjoong’s office door. It was late, a Friday. Yunho was out seeing a movie with the betas and Yeosang, though Mingi had passed on going.

He knocked.

“Come in.”

Mingi eased the door open slowly, reliving the first time he’d come here, when he’d dropped to his knees, expected violence. He was glad to say he knew better, now. Hongjoong had never hit him, had never threatened to hit him. Even when he’d deserved it.

Hongjoong smiled. “Hey, Mingi.”

“Hi.”

He shut his laptop, leaned back in his chair. Mingi wasn’t sure what sort of job he had, but it kept him busy. “You need something?”

Did he? Mingi wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure what he wanted or how to ask for it. Instead he just lingered for a moment, looked down at his socks like an idiot, then inhaled a shaky breath. “I want…”

A beat passed. Hongjoong smiled. “You want?”

“I want to… try…” Mingi’s voice was getting tiny, barely above a whisper. “Getting spanked.”

“Ah.” Hongjoong’s expression did not change, still smiling, still fond. “Why?”

Mingi shrugged. He barely knew why. “I’m curious.”

Hongjoong stood, rounded the desk, and sat on the loveseat. He patted the cushion beside him and waited until Mingi joined him. “Let’s talk about it,” Hongjoong said. “Did you break any rules?”

Had he? Mingi didn’t think so, but he also felt a constant guilty feeling. Like he moved through the world wrong, like everything about him was a mistake. But he could not identify any specific rule he had broken, so he shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“So this wouldn’t be a punishment,” Hongjoong confirmed. He leaned his head on the back of the couch, visibly mulling it over. “To be really honest with you, spanking you makes me nervous.”

Mingi recoiled just barely. “What?”

“I feel like…” Hongjoong adjusted the glasses on his nose, pulled his sweater sleeves down over either hand. “You and me have come a long way. I think we’re…good right now. Aren’t we?”

“I think so.” Mingi meant it. He didn’t fear Hongjoong like he had at first.

“And you’ve been hurt a lot,” he continued. “I would want to make sure this is different. That you understand it’s different.”

“Oh.” Mingi didn’t know how to promise it would feel different. For all he knew, the moment any hand was raised against him, regardless of context, would send his brain spiraling. “I guess I’m not sure what it’d be like. I just want to know if it feels good.”

That made Hongjoong laugh a little. “Have you been talking to the others about it?”

“Seonghwa.” He barely whispered it, feeling weirdly ashamed for going to Hongjoong’s mate.

“Good.” Hongjoong hesitated a moment, gnawed on his bottom lip, and then nodded. “If you want me to, we can try it. You can be in control the whole time, you can—”

Mingi shook his head fast. The last thing he wanted was to be in control. “No, do what you’d do to the others. For…maintenance.”

“Mingi…”

“Please. I’ll say if I want to stop.”

For a long minute Hongjoong stared. Read Mingi’s expression, slid his gaze slowly over his body language, from his shaky hands to jittery leg. And then his face changed. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed. “I won’t be going easy on you. If you want what the others get.”

Mingi nodded. He wanted to try. To see if it made him feel safe. He wanted what Yeosang had gotten on that day so many months ago, the first and only spanking Mingi had witnessed. He wanted to cry and be comforted for it, be told he’d done a good job.

Hongjoong sat up. “Over my knee.”

Something in Mingi’s stomach got all tight. “I’m too big, I—”

“You’re arguing?” He raised an eyebrow, gestured him over.

Reluctantly, already feeling terribly humiliated by the action, Mingi did as he was told. He bent awkwardly across Hongjoong’s lap, his feet still on the floor, his torso on the couch. Seonghwa had been right. This was vulnerable.

Hongjoong slid a hand down Mingi’s back, rubbed gently. “What are you gonna say if it’s too much?”

“Stop,” Mingi whispered. He knew some of the others used safe words, but he didn’t think he’d be able to remember one if he was truly upset.

“Stop it is.” Hongjoong’s hand moved to sit on his bottom, just a bit warm through his sweatpants. “I’m not doing this because you’ve been bad, Mingi. I’m doing this because you asked, and because I love you. Okay?”

A lump formed in Mingi’s throat. Love?

Hongjoong seemed to sense his confusion. “You’re my pack. Of course I love you. You’re family.”

Mingi managed a nod. He’d just… Not expected that. If he had to guess, he would say that Yunho loved him. And maybe Wooyoung, too. But a part of Mingi had still assumed that to Hongjoong he was just an intruder, an inconvenience. One he’d learned to tolerate, yes, but not truly pack.

“That won’t change if you don’t like this and never want to get spanked again. Got it?”

Mingi nodded again.

“You answer when I ask a question, Mingi.”

The firmness in his tone was unexpected, sent a burst of butterflies through Mingi’s stomach, which was even more surprising. “Yes,” he said. Being spoken to this way should’ve been triggering, but it wasn’t. It just made him feel even more like pack. Being treated like the others, getting attention from Hongjoong. He wouldn’t do this if he didn’t care at all, would he?

“Good boy. Do you trust me?”

Mingi faltered. Trust was such a big word, and on his bad days he didn’t even trust Yunho, not even himself. But he forced himself to nod, to admit what he knew in his bones. Hongjoong was kind, consistent, and worthy of trust. He’d proved it across six months. He was not like the other alphas Mingi had known, he was a real leader. And he wanted to submit to that. “I trust you.”

Hongjoong’s scent strengthened, rushed full of approval, of care. “Then we’ll start with ten from my hand. All right?”

“All right.”

Hongjoong’s hand rubbed gently across Mingi’s ass. “Deep breath. Relax best you can.”

Mingi obeyed, tried to inhale slowly. But then he released it in one big whoosh of air when the first smack landed. Firm, in the center of his bottom, and hard. It didn’t hurt exactly, but his skin already felt warm. He didn’t know what to make of it, didn’t know if he was meant to feel a specific way. But before he could wonder very hard the next strike came, then another. With this fast succession it began to sting, made him shift uncomfortably.

“I got you,” Hongjoong murmured. He planted his other hand firmly on the small of Mingi’s back, holding him still. “You can take it.”

The next few smacks hit his upper thighs, and were hard enough that even though the layer of clothing Mingi winced. He felt hot inside, oddly emotional, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. And then Hongjoong brought his hand down a tenth time, and it was over, and all Mingi could think was that it was too bad it’d ended before he’d sorted out his feelings.

“Up.” Hongjoong stood, walked over to his desk, and opened one of the bottom drawers. “I can tell you’re thinking too much.” He pulled out a wooden hairbrush, tested it once against his hand. The wood cracked against his skin. He returned to the loveseat.

This time Mingi didn’t need to be told. He immediately bent over Hongjoong’s lap, gripped a pillow in his hands. This would hurt. He hoped it did. Because not thinking, being out of his head sounded like heaven.

The first tap with the brush was nothing, but the second pushed a gasp out of him, the third a pathetic little pained sound. It made Hongjoong hesitate, but when nothing followed, he brought the brush down again. He paused after five, rubbed his hand down Mingi’s back again. “You’re tense.”

“Sorry,” Mingi whispered. He tried to relax, he really did. But this wasn’t working like he’d hoped. He wanted to feel fuzzy, the way some of the others described it as. He wanted to put all his mess in Hongjoong’s lap and not worry about it.

Hongjoong’s scent strengthened. Heavy alpha smell. It settled on Mingi’s skin like a morning mist. “Do you want to stop?”

“No.”

The next smack, delivered at the top of his thighs, burned. Like a fresh bruise, like a backhand. It had Mingi bracing for the next one, fighting to suppress the stupid little noises clawing up his throat. It’d be weak to whine about it, to flinch. You’re an alpha. Act like one.

But instead of immediately swinging, Hongjoong paused. Rubbed a soothing hand over Mingi’s bottom, his lower back. “You’re doing very well,” he said softly. “Alpha’s proud.”

Alpha’s proud.

Something stupid and fragile woke up in Mingi’s chest. The feeling of showing someone a very soft part of himself, a very frightened part, and being met with gentleness. This was the exact opposite of how he’d been raised. Submitting to another alpha, letting himself—

That thought disappeared, replaced by the sound of the brush’s impact. Again, again. Mingi was losing count, wasn’t sure how many he would be getting, anyways. He was losing track of lots of things. Opinions, mostly. What other presences in his life might’ve said if they saw him like this. It didn’t seem to matter. All he could feel was the ache in his backside, the buzzing, long moments between each blow.

And then, at the very end of his rope, as he hung onto the fray—

“Such a good boy.” Smack. “Perfect for us.” Smack.

Mingi dissolved. Cried out after the next hit, choked on a big sob, tears welling fast in his eyes. It was such a rush— His brain couldn’t process it anymore, but his body felt alight. Safe, held. Pain, too. There was a lot of pain. But for once he was settled in his body, not fleeing away from it. There was nowhere his mind wanted to go. He wanted to be here.

“Five more,” Hongjoong said. “Be good for me.”

And that was all Mingi wanted. A ferocious desperation to please his alpha, his pack alpha. And not because doing otherwise would get him unjustly beat, would get him starved. Only because he cared. Because he loved this pack like they were his family, like they were more than his family.

By the time the final smack came his body felt like jelly. Totally lax across Hongjoong’s knee. Crying softly, hiccuping on his sobs. Tears like he’d never had before. Not from fear or dehumanization; from relief.

“There you go, come here.” Hongjoong guided him up and back onto the couch, nestled him against his body, ran a hand up over his arm. Mingi never saw him like this, not with anyone but Seonghwa. But he accepted it gladly, chased out Hongjoong’s scent gland, fisted a hand in his soft sweater. “I know it hurts.”

Mingi managed a nod. He felt too watery to talk, a big mess of tears and sniffles and white hot emotions. His body didn’t know how to process this. He hurt. His bottom hurt, the hairbrush had likely bruised. But his mind felt safe, felt secure.

Hongjoong held his face closer to his scent gland, encouraged him to seek it out, and put a kiss into his hair. “Such a good alpha, Mingi.” His voice was syrup, nothing like it usually was. “Submitted to me so nicely. Took it so well. So proud of you.”

He wanted to answer. Wanted to try and put into words the weird feeling in his body. But words were so big, so difficult. Easier to just let himself be folded up under Hongjoong’s arm, let himself be praised, be comforted. It felt nice. It felt really, really nice.

Pain was familiar. He’d been hurt more times than he could count, then he could conceptualize. But comfort afterwards, being told he was still good and everything was going to be okay, was foreign. It’d maybe happened once or twice, as a child. But those memories had been stained by betrayal, anyways.

Hongjoong kissed his head again. “Stay here as long as you need. Then let’s have a snack and talk more, all right?”

Mingi nodded.

“Answer alpha, darling.”

“Yes,” Mingi managed. His voice was tiny. “Thank you.”

Month 7 — the betas

As a general rule to life, San was happy when his mates were happy.

Obviously, he was still his own person. Had his own hobbies, his own wants, his own interests. But the only time he felt right, the only time he felt truly at ease, was when he had an eye on both of them. When he knew they were both happy, healthy, and wonderfully his.

So, with that in mind, he’d liked Mingi right away. Because Wooyoung liked Mingi, and then Yeosang had too. So even though San didn’t know him all that well, he’d trusted him. Whatever made his beloveds happy.

But then half a year flew by. And it seemed like everyone had formed a close connection to Mingi but San. And he realized they’d never really even had a chance to get to know one another, never hung out without Yeosang or Wooyoung as a middle man. It hadn’t been intentional. San worked overtime most weeks, and Mingi seemed to want space anyways. Besides, it’d been an untraditional pack integration.

When they’d gotten Yunho a few years ago it’d been a gradual process. They’d each spent one on one time with him, they’d each courted him. But Mingi was Mingi. He’d come into their lives visibly traumatized, trembling when anybody but Yunho looked in his direction.

That wasn’t the case anymore. But San supposed he’d just grown accustomed to not looking.

“Just ask.” Yeosang carded a gentle hand through San’s hair. He’d been in their bed reading, but San had crawled into his lap, squeezed his head under his book, and demanded some attention. “He’s not very forward. You gotta make the first move.”

“I guess.”

Yeosang laughed a little, rested his book on San’s back. “Nervous?”

“No.”

“If one on one feels intimidating, invite a third.”

“You?”

“No, not me. Jongho. He’s kept distance, too. You know how he gets.”

San considered it. He didn’t like his mates having something he didn’t. He didn’t like seeing them spend time with Mingi and not knowing for certain if he was allowed to join. He didn’t like them giving Mingi quick kisses goodbye unless he could do the same.

He pushed himself up, leaned in to plant a kiss on Yeosang’s nose, and then nodded. “I’ll go ask.”

This was how San navigated life. Yeosang called him earnest. Wooyoung called him clingy. Both were said with love. But he never felt right about any decision until one of his mates had heard him out on it.

But, with Yeosang’s stamp of approval, he walked straight downstairs and found Mingi in the kitchen. He always made two pots of coffee a day. One in the morning, one in the afternoon. He was currently measuring out his afternoon pot.

“Mingi?” San smiled best he could, clasped his hands behind his back. “Would you like to get dinner tonight? With me? Maybe invite Jongho, too?”

Mingi stared for a moment. Lips parted. Hand halfway to the coffee maker, grounds spilling over the edge of the little scoop he used. Slowly, he tipped them into the machine, set it aside. “Is this…” He swallowed thickly, blinked, and adjusted his wireframes on his nose. “I can stop kissing them. I’m sorry. It never meant anything, it just—”

“Oh, no. No. Not that.” San blew out a breath, gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “They kiss whoever they want to, I’m lucky to be included. I just want to get to know you better. I feel like we haven’t spent a lot of time together, right?”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed. “Me?”

“Yeah. You.”

“Oh. Sure. I’d like that.”

“And Jongho?”

“I like Jongho, too.”

So, it was settled. Even though Jongho complained about going because Sunday nights were usually his video game nights. And even though Wooyoung gave him the stink eye for not inviting him. The three of them took a car deeper into the city, picked out a casual dinner spot. Busy enough that they could disappear into the crowd, but still quiet enough to talk.

And that was the hard part. Talking.

“You know,” San said finally, unable to stand the emptiness, the faint rustle of Jongho flipping the menu even though he always got the same thing here. “I used to box in college.”

Mingi stared. “Oh.”

“Not that it’s the same as you— Not that— I know you didn’t—”

Jongho snorted a laugh. “Oh my god.”

San groaned, hid his face behind his menu. “Sorry.”

A beat passed. Mingi took a sip of his water. “The doctor cleared me,” he said quietly. “Said I wouldn’t be able to handle another concussion, but that I’m basically okay otherwise. We could spar sometime.”

San reemerged from the menu. Did Mingi mean that? He’d want to spar? It’d feel good, really good, to flex that muscle again. He’d certainly never been as serious as Mingi, who’d quite literally been fighting for his life, but it’d feel good to have someone to tussle with. “You’d want to do that?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Why not? Maybe because if San had been forced to fight for eight years he’d never want to do it again. Maybe because they’d all seen Mingi curled up on the floor after hitting Hongjoong, the toll that had taken on him. “I…” Pointing any of that out would be cruel, so he trailed off.

“He’s hesitating see?” Jongho gestured his beer in San’s direction. “He knows you’ll kick his ass.”

“No, it’s—”

“I would,” Mingi said. He gave a tiny, satisfied laugh. “I’m out of shape, but I still could.”

“So stay out of shape, give me a chance.”

“Coward.” But Mingi was still smiling, and banter like this was so friendly, so familiar.

San put his elbows on the table, leaned in. “Then let’s both train, hm? We can go together, spar, lift, it’d be fun. Get in shape together.”

“The pack wouldn’t mind?”

Jongho made a face. “Why would we care?”

“I don’t want to seem scary. Like I’m getting violent again.”

“No one would think that,” San said. “And it’d be nice to get out of the house more.”

Mingi visibly yielded, his smile growing. “You’d really go with?”

“Obviously, yes.”

“I’d go too,” Jongho said. “Just to hit the treadmill, though.”

They all agreed on it. They’d start tomorrow, go before work. And even though it was small, just a step in the right direction, San’s whole body felt put to ease. Now he had something with Mingi, too. Now he had something to talk about and do and bond over.

It’d be like courting him, after all. Just slightly out of order.

Month 8 — the little wolf

Going outside didn’t feel scary anymore.

By some stroke of luck Handler had not come after him, had not stalked him down and dragged him back. If he’d wanted to Mingi was relatively certain he would’ve by now. Which meant he was safe, this really was his home.

No one was going to wake him up from this dream.

It also meant even just a trip to the grocery store felt like a treat. Going into the world, picking out clothes to wear, choosing recipes and finding the right ingredients. And Yunho always came with. And when they were together Mingi felt possessive and proud and warm. Maybe it was just his brain assuming so, but it felt like everyone always stared at them. And he wanted to answer yes, he’s mine. No, I don’t know how I got him, either.

“Let me.” Mingi shouldered both tote bags and gave Yunho a quick peck on the cheek.

Yunho, well used to this treatment, just rolled his eyes. “Oh, thank you big strong alpha.” He clutched a dramatic hand to his chest. “I couldn’t possibly manage on my own.”

Mingi giggled.

The walk home took about thirty minutes, and the weather was beginning to warm, so they set off down the sidewalk. Hand in hand when possible, though they switched to single file when it got busy.

It was hard to believe that less than a year ago he’d been in the ring, had spent his days in violence, on his knees. That felt like a haze, now. Some different version of himself he tried not to think about. Seonghwa said it wouldn’t be sustainable, that he needed to talk about it more, he needed to process it. Mingi didn’t understand what that even meant. He didn’t want to relive it. He’d already endured it once. Better to just block it out, suppress it, and move on with this new life he had.

Besides. His future felt bright for the first time in his life. He was building up the nerve to ask Yunho to mate him, to make it official. He had a pack of his own. He had people he trusted to be gentle with him. He had fucking hobbies.

Even before the ring, he’d never thought his life could be this wonderful.

Yunho found his hand again. “It’s gonna be either New Zealand or Thailand. You get a vote, obviously. And not to sway you, but the correct answer is Thailand. Even though Hwa’s obsessed with going where they filmed Lord of the Rings. He’ll survive. Hongjoong will make sure we go there next. But for your first time we—”

“Mm, I don’t know.” Mingi pretended to think it over very carefully. “I can’t handle being on Seonghwa’s bad side. I gotta think about my future here.”

Yunho halfheartedly smacked his arm. “Oh, please.”

“I mean it. If he doesn’t get what he wants, I might—”

“Mingi.”

They both stopped in their tracks. The voice went straight to Mingi’s heart, sent it rabbiting beneath his ribs. One of the tote bags slipped off his shoulder, got caught in the crook of his elbow.

Yunho was less tense, but reached out and held onto Mingi’s wrist, confusion on his face.

Ming forced himself to turn. He had to. Walking away would haunt him for the rest of his life. Though he hoped he would be wrong. That his memory was faulty, that the voice was someone who’d once seen him in the ring, had once been a fan. But luck was not on his side. It was his mother. Of course it was. He’d known it from his name alone, the weight in it, the emotion.

She was only a few steps away. Under the awning of a store, her own shopping in her arms. Beside her was his eldest brother, who must’ve been nearly thirty by now. They stared like he was a ghost.

“Mingi?” Yunho whispered it. “Who..?”

Mother took a step closer, Mingi stepped back. “Baby,” she murmured. Tears were welling in her eyes.  “You look so good, you look healthy.”

No thanks to you.

Mingi took another step backwards. Where had her words been eight years ago? Where had her gaze been? Questions he’d given up on asking years ago flooded back into his system. Why she’d never visited him, why she’d never asked after him. Why she’d let dad sell him to that place, why she hadn’t done something.

She advanced further. Like a threat. Like a predator. “I’ve missed you so badly, I never should’ve let you out of my sight. Your father said we’d get you back within the month, then within the year, and then—”

Mingi didn’t need to hear it. Intentions didn’t matter. They’d left him there to die. His eyes flicked to his brother, whose face was neutral. He’d likely made peace with Mingi being gone, maybe even mourned him, years ago. He did not appear interested in undoing that process.

Mother reached him. Her hand stretched out and touched him. Cradled his face, stroked his hair. It was like a stranger touching him. Like her hand was cold, heartless wax. “Little wolf,” she whispered. “You got so big.”

Yunho was two steps away, now. His eyes wide. “Mingi?”

Mingi let her touch him for a moment longer. He didn’t know how to pull away. “I…” He forced himself to swallow. His throat felt swollen, his eyes burned. “I was only sixteen, how could—”

The tote bag fell off his elbow, hit the pavement. Their groceries scattered, a can rolled away. Yunho knelt to pick it up. Mingi did not.

Mother continued to stare at him. A part of him wanted to talk more, wanted to explain what he’d been through, what her apathy had allowed him to endure. He wanted her to understand the beatings, the loneliness, the rape. But talking to her, even just the idea of it, exhausted him. All he truly wanted was to go home, cook the pack a meal as he’d intended, and fall asleep in Yunho’s arms.

He pushed her hand away. “I’m going home, now.”

“Mingi—”

He took the bag from Yunho, then grabbed his hand, and began walking. He did not look back. Even when she called, even when her voice broke from tears. He just walked.

When they were out of sight, when they’d turned a few corners, Yunho spoke. “Are you okay?”

Mingi blinked. “I’m going to have a panic attack.” He voice was even, steady. But he knew the moment they got home he would freeze, he would lock up, his chest would get tight.

“Okay,” Yunho said softly. His hand squeezed. “Then let’s start deep breathing now.”

Tears pricked at Mingi’s eyes, but he managed a nod. “She never even visited me.”

“Inhale with me. Slow.”

“She let them take me. She knew they’d hurt me, she knew.”

“I know, puppy. But that’s not your family anymore, we are. Come on. For me. Big breath through your nose.”

And — despite the current of emotions in his chest, the tidal wave threatening to swell — he followed instructions. Tethered himself to Yunho’s voice, squeezed his hand back in answer, and breathed.

Month 9 — the heat

Mingi smelled it on him when they woke up.

Omega heat pheromones. Slick. Sweetness so sugary it made him dizzy, made the alpha in him keen and buck. He wanted. Badly. But Mingi did not want to let himself have.

Instead he pulled Yunho’s body close, planted a kiss on his scent gland, and took a deep breath. “Your heats starting.”

“It is,” Yunho mumbled back, voice gravely. “Fuck.”

“Do you want somebody else? Should I leave?” This was a conversation long overdue, one he’d been dreading. Because they had yet to move beyond kissing, scenting. It hadn’t necessarily been intentional. It just…hadn’t happened. And not pushing his boundaries felt so safe, Mingi was hesitant to even try. But a heat changed everything.

It was different when Mingi rutted — he’d had one other since that first time — because he just grit his teeth and rode it out. But it would feel different this time around. To see Yunho like that. To know he wanted more, things Mingi wasn’t sure he wanted to give.

It was times like this he wondered if Seonghwa had a point. If there was some stuff in his past he needed to process.

Yunho turned around in bed, so they were eye to eye. His cheeks were flushed a bit, but he looked otherwise normal. “Why would I want anyone other than you? I mean—” He grinned, pulled Mingi’s hand close. “I want you and the others. All of them. In my nest. That’s how I spend it.”

“All of them?”

“Not at once, but whenever they can. Usually the trio will alternate days off so I won’t have to be alone, but this time I’ll have you 24/7. It’ll be the best one yet.”

“But…” He was too ashamed to say it. His one duty as an alpha was to take care of his omega. Part of that meant knotting him during heats, during ruts. It was supposed to be instinctual, wired into his biology. But when he thought about it right now, about Yunho being too deep in his heat to even be present, he felt sick. He didn’t want his first consensual sexual experience to be like that.

Yunho seemed to understand. He gave a light sigh, cradled Mingi’s hand under his cheek. “I know we’re not going to have sex, Mini. It’s okay.”

“But it’s my job—”

“Your job is to be here, please. Kiss me and scent me and let me steal all your clothes for my nest. When I start wanting more, we have knot toys. Or one of the others could help. It’s not a big deal.”

Mingi felt his body ease. Without even realizing it he’d been tensing up for rejection, anticipating this would be Yunho’s final straw. Obviously, it hadn’t been. “That’s really okay?”

A nod. “So long as you’re okay with me being very clingy, and very emotional.”

“I don’t mind that.”

Yunho kissed his palm. Then his wrist. Nuzzled his nose against the gland. “I can’t guarantee I won’t ask you for more, but that’ll just be me in my heat haze, okay? My instincts will want you — everything to do with you. They don’t know any better.”

Mingi’s brain didn’t know what to do with that information. “Okay.”

“Come here.”

Their mouths fit together, and they kissed slowly, lazily, for a few moments. Yunho’s scent was heavier than normal, it dripped off his tongue, spread into Mingi’s skin wherever his fingertips touched. The slick-smell was tinged with it. With him. And suddenly Mingi realized it might not be about denying Yunho, it might be about denying himself.

The omega he intended to mate, the omega he wanted for life, might be begging for his knot in a mere few hours. Oh, god.

“I wish I could,” he said suddenly. “And I’d want to. Really.”

“I know, Puppy.”

“Someday I want to. I swear.”

“Stuff takes time.” Yunho shrugged. Like it was all simple. “I always knew we’d be going at your pace. And you’ve made a lot of progress already. But could I ask something?”

Mingi’s mouth went dry. He dreaded questions.

Yunho continued. “Do you touch yourself, now? Or is that still too much, too?”

This was new territory. Yunho had asked a few times about interests, boundaries, stuff like that. Mingi had always been vague, ashamed to admit that his libido still felt broken. It should’ve come back by now, he thought. Or at least improved. But even right now, when he could feel himself physically reacting to Yunho’s smell, could feel the press of an erection in his shorts, his brain was a few steps behind.

“A few times,” he finally said. Admitting that felt like a failure. An alpha his age was supposed to be at sexual peak. “I thought about you.”

“And how was it?”

Mingi looked away. “It was okay, I think. But still sort of… hard.”

Yunho nodded. “That makes sense. You gotta get to know that part of yourself. Like I said, it takes time.” He reached out, touched Mingi’s hair. “And even if it never happens, you’re still my alpha, okay?”

Mingi was gonna do something stupid like cry. “Okay.”

“Now—” Yunho stretched out across the bed, released a big yawn. “I’m gonna take a shower before the cramps take me out. Any chance my alpha would make some tea? Plug in my hot pad?”

Mingi rolled onto his stomach, willed his boner to go away, and returned the smile. “Anything for my omega.”

Month 10 — the bite

Yunho had wondered how Mingi would do it, how he would bring it up. Truthfully, he couldn’t believe they’d waited this long. It it’d been up to him, they would’ve mated and exchanged bites months ago.

But, same as with most other things, they moved at Mingi’s pace. Enough had been stolen from him, inflicted on him. The last thing he needed was more pressure.

Still, didn’t mean Yunho wasn’t impatient, didn’t mean he wasn’t jealous. He envied the connection a mating bite offered, the subtle, implicit ways Seonghwa and Hongjoong could communicate. They moved like two pieces of the same being, infinitely stable in their devotion to one another.

Yunho wanted that for Mingi. Wanted to take the final step in proving that this was his home. Yunho was his home.

But, despite his anticipation, when it happened it took him by surprise.

An ordinary Saturday. Yunho had spent the morning in bed, determined to be lazy as long as the day allowed. Mingi brought him breakfast, coffee. They talked abut nothing, giggled under the covers like teenagers. This was routine, by now. Easy.

Around noon he left to shower, figuring he needed to accomplish at least something today. When he returned Mingi was sitting at the desk, a book open. He watched quietly as Yunho got dressed, as he brushed out his hair.

“I gotta cut this,” he said, holding up a tuft of his mop. “It’s getting ridiculous. Honestly, I—” When he turned Mingi was on the floor. Kneeling. Hands in his lap, head ducked. “Uh…”

“Yunho,” Mingi just barely mumbled it. His hands shook. He looked how he used to be, when he’d kneel for Hongjoong, when he’d expect cruelty and rejection and pain. “I know I’m not a perfect alpha, but I love you. You know I do.”

Yunho was stiff, unsure what was happening. “I know,” he said slowly. “I love you, too.”

Mingi was staring at the floor. “I wondered— I thought—” He flinched, squeezed his eyes shut, and then blew out a long breath. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. All I want is to spend my whole life with you, making you as happy as humanly possible.”

“Mingi—”

“Please,” Mingi interrupted. “I need to say this. Please.”

“All right.” Yunho knelt by him, took his hands in his. “Talk to me.”

A tear slipped down Mingi’s cheek. “Is there… Is there any chance you’d…” He sniffed. His shoulders shook. “Would you be my mate?”

A muscle Yunho hadn’t even known existed, one somewhere in his soul, squeezed. “Yes. Of course. Yes.”

Mingi looked up, eyes wide. “Really?”

Yunho laughed, feeling stupid with happiness, with relief. “Really. I’ve always known, pup. From the first day we met.”

“What?” Mingi’s expression clouded slightly, his eyebrows furrowed. “You knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted you to figure it out.” Yunho pressed closer, kissed Mingi’s cheek, his hands. “To make that decision for you.”

Another tear. “Oh.” Mingi’s stiff posture slipped, he slumped against the bed. “But I don’t feel like I deserve you, I don’t—”

“Shh.” Yunho didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to hear the other people in Mingi’s brain. “I’m all yours. Forever. I’ve always been.” He pressed against Mingi’s neck, kissed over his scent gland. Still nothing, still empty. But it was his Mingi’s, so he loved it anyways. “Should we plan a time? Some people do a ceremony, some people—”

“Now,” Mingi said. “I don’t wanna wait. I can’t.”

Yunho gave him the tiniest, barely there nip in answer. Just a pinch over his scent gland, a promise of what would come. “Are you sure?”

Mingi nodded against him, pulled them together, until Yunho was in his lap, straddling him. “I don’t know how. No one ever…”

A tiny pain hit him. Learning how to give a healthy, easy to heal bite was usually something alphas learned from their pack leaders. A coming of age lesson, something Mingi’s family should’ve given him. But, like most things, Mingi was lacking in that knowledge. Just another way his instincts had been suppressed, neglected.

“I’ll show you, then.” Yunho said. He pulled back, kissed Mingi on the mouth, and then grinned. “It’ll hurt a little. Are you—”

“Yes,” Mingi said again. “Please. Please, Yunho. Please.”

This was nothing like Yunho had anticipated. Spur of the moment, impromptu. But when he thought about planning a time, saying a vow, maybe having a witness, it soured. He didn’t want anyone to see this moment between them. He didn’t want to wait. He wanted Mingi. More than he’d wanted anything else in his entire life.

Carefully, he guided Mingi’s head to one side, baring his throat, and pushed away some of his hair. It was untraditional for the omega to bite first, but oddly fitting. The two of them had never abided by tradition.

Again, he kissed the gland, ran his thumb over it. “Gonna look so pretty with my mark.”

Mingi whined, fidgeted a little. “I wanna be a good alpha for you,” he whispered. “Please.”

“Mm, I know.” Yunho licked across it. “Such a good alpha. Gonna keep me safe, gonna take care of me, right?”

It was a bit shameless to appease Mingi’s instincts so blatantly, but it was also working. Mingi was melting in Yunho’s arms, releasing tiny pleased moans every time he got kissed.

“Keep breathing through it,” Yunho said. And then, not wanting to spend another second without it, he positioned his teeth over the gland and bit down hard. He bit until he broke through the skin, until his mouth rushed full of Mingi’s blood, full of his coffee taste. “Oh, god,” he said, voice muffled around Mingi’s throat. “I taste you.”

Mingi was panting, little breathy groans, pleadings. His hands were tight, nails digging into Yunho’s shoulders.

Yunho pulled back, certain it’d been deep enough to stick. Then he licked. Until the blood clotted, until it looked clean and beautiful and perfect. “How was that?”

Mingi didn’t answer, instead pushed against Yunho’s throat, seeking out his gland, mouth already open. He bit hesitantly at first, and then with a bit more confidence. Sunk his teeth into Yunho’s flesh, whined as he did it.

Yunho understood, now. What bonded mates were always talking about. It was more than sex, it was more than love or friendship or anything like that.

When Mingi pulled away, a bit of blood on the corner of his mouth, he was crying. Fast, incessant tears making little tracks down his cheeks. Yunho caught one on his thumb, stuck it in his mouth for a taste. “I know,” he whispered. The mating bite on his neck stood out red and perfect. A permanent piece of Yunho.“I feel it too.”

“I’m—” Mingi managed a big gulp of air. “I’m— I feel—”

Yunho pressed their foreheads together. “Tell me.”

Mingi trembled. But his face broke into a careful, slightly watery smile. “Yunho,” he said. “I feel so happy.”