this night together - chapter seventeen (j.yh + s.mg)
chapter seventeen: in the days before
chapter summary: to say you're unprepared for your impending heat would be an understatement. you try to get a handle on it before it gets a handle on you.
warnings: anxiety, panic, traumatic heat allusions, actual therapy session with lots of therapy speak, clear parallels between the 'claim attempt' and SA (not explicitly said but it's pretty obvious that's what i'm talking about), big emotions, conversations around consent, references to bdsm color systems and bdsm dynamics, some mild sexual language but no explicit sexual content in this one, gratiutious use of pet names bc her alphas are the most tender hearted boys on the planet i s2g
notes: hi everyone..... i'm kind of sort of back. it's been a struggle to write recently, but all of a sudden i wanted to and here we are. i'm already working on the next few chapters, so hopefully they don't take quite as long as this one did, but thank you so much to everyone who is still keeping up with this story. as a note, this chapter is very transitional, but i think setting up a lot of important things for reader's next heat. hopefully you'll enjoy some angst and fluff as a pre-cursor to more gratuitous smut next chapter..... including..... how the best laid plans often go awry. take your guesses on how that might play out.....
pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader
genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory
word count: 11.8k
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small disclaimer: i am not a therapist, but i definitely go to therapy! a lot of the dialogue in that scene may or may not reflect your own therapy experiences, but some of it is directly pulled from conversations i've had with my therapist. that being said, i'm not a doctor, please don't take any of my suggestions on how to cope with trauma literally. be safe out there. <3
The waiting room for your new therapist’s office is cold today, but all of Seoul is cold today. You tuck your cardigan tighter around yourself and nervously bite the inside of your cheek and then take a long sip of water to stop yourself, your hands fidgeting together as you try to just look at the painting across the room.
It’s a wash of swirling hues of blue.
It’s probably supposed to make you feel calm, but all you can picture is rough ocean water, and you look back down at your hands.
Your phone lights up in your lap and you tap the screen.
Deep breaths, babe. — Mingi’s message softens your tense shoulders immediately.
You tap out a quick reply — I’m breathing.
Just remember, last session you came home saying how much you liked her — Yunho’s replies into the group chat.
True — You tap back.
We love you, and I’m picking you up something special for when you get to the studio — Mingi says, and you can already picture a box of sweet confections, you know exactly how he spoils you after living with them for even just a few weeks.
Thank you, baby — You reply.
I’ll pick you up after, okay? Just text me if you need anything — Yunho’s message comes through right as the door to your left opens, and you take one quick second to add a heart to his message so he knows you read it before looking up.
“y/n,” Dr. Kang says as she steps back from the door and opens her palm to welcome you into her office, “come on in,”
You thank her with a bow of your head and slip into the office, still getting used to this new space. Settling in on the plush, dark blue velvet sofa, you find yourself already reaching for one of the throw pillows to set on your lap so you have something in your hands while your insides are pulled out and examined.
She eases into the armchair across from you and gives you a kind expression.
Something about her starts to ease your tension already. Yunho was right, your new therapist is good, and you do like her already. After trying to make therapy work for three sessions with one that didn’t feel quite right and having your tentative progress derailed, Yunho had helped you find another with no questions asked and you ended up with Dr. Kang.
It’s only your fourth time meeting her, but it’s your first of two sessions this week. You booked an emergency session the second you had a moment alone after your heat spike, a knot deep in your gut telling you that this wasn’t something you could just talk through with your partners.
Now you’re sitting on her couch first thing Monday morning, swimming in Yunho’s hoodie and picking at the skin around your nails as she settles into her seat across from you, crossing her legs and resting her hands on the leatherbound notebook on her lap.
She’s a sharp and inquisitive woman, and unlike some therapists, she doesn’t just ask you how you feel about something until you twist yourself into verbal knots coming up with an answer that will appease by the end of the session. She’s quick to interrupt, to dial things back, and to press you harder in ways that are uncomfortable. You wonder if that’s her style with everyone, or if she picked up on the fact that you need that to be able to get out of your own head about these things.
Her calm voice gently interrupts your thoughts, “y/n,” she gives you a gentle, empathetic look, “why don’t you tell me a little bit about why you’re here today?”
“Right,” Your hands drop to your lap, “well, I called your office to see if you could fit me in before work today,”
“Mm,” She nods, “I know how you scheduled, I meant, what made you feel like you needed an additional session this week?”
You nod along with her working yourself up, “It’s kind of a long story,”
“We have plenty of time,”
“Okay,” You tuck your hands under your thighs to keep yourself from fiddling with your cuticles even more, “well, my best friend went into heat and I had to help get his boyfriend, or his… partner, well, actually I’m not sure what they’re calling themselves yet,”
“This is,” She glances at her notebook, “Wooyoung and Yeosang, yes?”
“Yes,” You exhale, relieved that she remembered so easily.
“And how was that experience?”
“Oh,” You shake your head, “fine, they’re fine, but I think being around all those scents, it triggered a heat spike for me.”
Her eyes sharpen, “I see,”
“Yeah,”
“Can you tell me where this spike occurred? Were you with Wooyoung and his pack, or did this happen later?”
”I was with my partners, Yunho and Mingi,” you explain, “my alphas,”
She nods, but leaves the floor open for you to continue.
“It hit out of nowhere, it was like zero to sixty, I was fine, and then I was right in the middle of it,”
“That sounds disorienting,” She offers.
“Very,” You sigh.
“How did your alphas handle the situation?”
That makes you soften, “Really well, honestly,”
She nods again.
“They calmed me down, took care of me,” You pull the pillow closer to your chest, a light heat building in your cheeks when you think about how they had you knotted between them, “it was honestly really good,”
“That’s good to hear,” She smiles this time, genuinely, “from everything you’ve told me so far, your alphas have been prioritizing your recovery and your safety, I’m glad to hear they were able to handle an unexpected heat spike in a way that felt good for you.”
“I was scared,” You clarify, “but they helped me work through that.”
“That’s good,”
A strange flutter rocks in your chest and your eyes flick down, “It was honestly great,” you feel the words coming faster, “we spent the day in bed, and tried a bunch of new stuff. Yunho and Mingi got closer too which I feel like is really good, that’s good for us, and then we all, you know, together, which was great, honestly great.”
“y/n,” Dr. Kang gently but firmly interrupts, “can you tell me what is making you feel anxious? It sounds like there’s more to say about the encounter,”
You grimace, hands tightening on the pillow, “It’s not that,”
“Alright,”
You look back up and meet her steady gaze, “If I’m having a heat spike, that means my real heat is around the corner.”
She nods, “Most likely, yes,”
“I’m,” Emotion catches tight in your throat, “I’m not ready for that.”
“Say more,”
“My heats are hard,” You explain, even though you’ve told her this before, “I get really hazy sometimes, really hazy. The first heat I had with Yunho and Mingi, I don’t remember a good bit of it.”
“Mm,” She nods, “I’m not an omega, but I work with many omega clients as you know. Discomfort or fear surrounding the gaps in memory during heat is a common conversation with many of those clients.”
“Last time,” You feel your heartbeat picking up in your chest at just the thought of it, “I would come to in the middle of a knot, I could hear myself saying things, doing things, I wasn’t even… it’s like something took over my body.”
“Mm,” She hums sympathetically.
“I think because Yunho and Mingi are my scent matches it’s even more intense,” You admit, “biologically speaking.”
“That makes sense,” She nods, “studies show that the effects of heats and ruts are much more intense for scent matched omegas and alphas.”
Your eyes flood suddenly with nervous tears, “So how am I supposed to have this heat?”
“y/n,” Dr. Kang softens, “there are safe places for omegas to experience unassisted heats, or there’s always medical intervention, though I’ll be honest I don’t recommend it.”
“I’m not putting myself in a coma for four days,” You shake your head, “fuck that.”
“I agree, especially in your case. I think that would be retraumatizing; however, it’s important to me that you understand all options available to you so that you can make an informed decision.”
“Fair,”
“Is an unassisted heat something you are unwilling to do as well?” She asks, as carefully as she can.
You nod, “I did that when I was younger, I’m not doing that again. I think it would be worse,”
“Then your heat is coming,”
“And I have to figure out how I’m going to do this.”
Dr. Kang sets her notebook to the side and takes a sip from her nearby coffee, “Well, I have some thoughts, but why don’t you tell me what you’ve been thinking so far.”
You chew the inside of your cheek for a moment as you consider your words, “I’m not sure I’ve figured much out, that’s why I booked today.”
“Hmm,” She relaxes back into the cushions of her chair, “I understand, but I’m not able to tell you how to go about your heat. I can help process the things you’re feeling about it, and offer my guidance on how to communicate with your partners, but I can’t give you a blueprint for avoiding your triggers or for how to come out of your heat feeling a particular way.”
Your hands tighten around each other.
“y/n,” She says, “you know as well as I do, that anyone controlling or dictating how an omega experiences a heat is unnatural. No one knows what you need in heat better than you do.”
You let out a long, tired exhale, “I know,” you admit, “but I was kind of hoping someone could just tell me what to do,”
“Mm,” She nods, “but I’d offer this — I think the last thing you need right now is less agency,”
Your eyes flick down to your clasped hands again.
“Alright,” She picks up her notebook again but doesn’t reference it yet, “tell me, what was good about your first heat with Yunho and Mingi, let’s start there.”
A smile pulls at your lips the second you think of it, and you nod, “It was kind of a mess, I went into heat unexpectedly in the locker room of the studio, and Mingi found me and he and Yunho took me home. We had only known each other for a few months then, but they were… so careful, gentle with me. We talked about everything before we did anything sexual,”
She nods, but doesn’t interrupt.
“It was a hard one, I was off suppressants, but they took care of me. It was more than just knotting, they were treating me like I was already their omega.”
“You mentioned before you had moments of low lucidity,” She prompts you gently, “can you tell me about that?”
“I mean,” You breathe, gesturing with your hand, “it was okay, when those things happened they slowed things down and we were careful. Even in moments where one of them started to get too intense or lost in it, the other would pull them back. It was a little scary, but it was safe. They’d never hurt me,”
She nods again, “You’re sure of that?”
You meet her steady gaze with something firm, a flickering anger in your belly at the idea they’d do anything but keep you safe, “Yes. Of course I’m sure,”
“You trust them,” She comments, “implicitly.”
“Yes.”
“y/n,” She gives you another empathetic, close-lipped smile, “I think you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that this heat is going to be scary and difficult to navigate,”
Your gut tightens.
“But,” She adds, “at the same time you need to remind yourself who you’re with. If you’re sure that Yunho and Mingi would never intentionally hurt you, if you trust them, then two things can be true. This heat can be scary but also a part of the healing process, especially when you have two alphas that you trust to aid you through it safely.”
You swallow, nodding, “I just want it to be like it was,”
She nods.
“I don’t want to be scared,”
“That’s natural,” She murmurs, “but it’s important to remember that part of processing trauma isn’t about making sure you’re never triggered or scared again, it’s about finding ways to respond differently to those triggers and move through that fear safely.”
You can feel the echoes of panic in your gut, the way your body locked up, the way you felt trapped inside yourself, voices muffled through the thick fog of headspace.
You remember Mingi’s hands entwined with yours, braced on Yunho’s chest during your first time together after the attack, his tender voice in your ear reminding you who held you.
You remember the room full of mirrors, no broken glass, no blood, just a room.
With another swallow, you look back up at Dr. Kang, “How do I do that?” You ask, “How do I respond differently?”
“With tools in your toolbox,”
“Like?”
“Breathing exercises for one,” She begins, “and finding safe ways to communicate that you need to slow down or stop what’s happening.”
You make mental notes as she continues.
“For those moments of lower lucidity, finding grounding points that you are able to hold onto, whether that be an item in the room, a sound or song that makes you feel safe, a phrase or a particular mantra that your alphas can use to help root you in the moment,” She offers, “and while I know you and your alphas are regularly having sex and that doesn’t seem to be heavily tangled with triggers, a detailed discussion of sex acts prior.”
“We’ve done that before,” You interject, “kind of,”
“How so?” She gestures with her hand towards you for you to continue.
“For my first heat with them, we talked about what level of touching was okay, if knotting was okay,” You explain, “and then after the attack, the first time we had sex we talked about what things we knew triggered me and how to avoid them,”
“Good,” She nods, “that’s excellent.”
“So we’re definitely clear on stuff like that,”
She raises her hand slightly to interrupt your thought pattern, “Ah,” she says, “no, I’d argue you were clear on previous encounters.”
“Isn’t it all the same?”
She shakes her head, “Not necessarily. You may still feel the same exact way as your first heat, or those triggers you were avoiding, but maybe not. Or there might be additional things you want to do or not do this time. Consent is not something that’s given once, it’s a continuous and evolving conversation.”
She lets that sink in a moment, and you think it through, “So this boils down to talk to them?”
She shrugs, “That’s part of it, definitely, but from everything you’ve told me about your partners, it sounds like they would be receptive to strategizing and talking this out beforehand. I would encourage you to do that together to give you all a firm feeling of safety entering into what is admittedly a very overwhelming time for a pack.”
“Okay,” Your shoulders relax a little, “I can do that.”
“I would also recommend providing my office’s contact information to them. Once your heat begins, I would recommend they reach out to me to schedule an additional session on your behalf for the day after,” She says.
You nod again.
“I’ll offer one particular method that I think may be beneficial for you,” She takes her notebook again, back to the page that is clearly tabbed for your session.
“Okay,”
“Have you ever heard of the traffic light system?” Her head cocks to the side just a little with her question.
You shake your head.
“In BDSM, the traffic light system is regularly used to make sure that consent and comfort is prioritized,” She starts off.
Your eyebrows raise at BDSM, your hands stilling in your lap, “Uh,” you laugh a little awkwardly, “we’re not exactly the whips and chains type of pack,”
She smiles and shakes her head, “y/n,” she says, “you don’t have to engage in traditional BDSM sex acts to find value in some of the methodologies the community employs. You may have also heard the term ‘RACK’, which refers to ‘Risk Aware Consensual Kink’,”
“Not specifically,” Your eyebrows draw together in confusion.
“Two key components in BDSM are awareness and consent,” She continues, “the traffic light system is used to ensure that everyone participating in the pre-negotiated scene or play have the ability to communicate their level of consent and their needs without needing to spell it out or put a damper on the heat of the moment,”
You blink.
“It’s simple,” She says, “You use the three colors of the traffic lights, ‘green’, ‘yellow’, and ‘red’ to indicate to your partners how comfortable you are with what is happening. ‘Green’ means go, ‘yellow’ means slow down and assess, ‘red’ means full stop.”
“Okay,”
“For partners engaging in kinks like BDSM, where maybe part of the allure is struggling, pain, or resistance, something like the traffic light system provides a safe and clear mode of communication, like a more nuanced safe word.”
“That makes sense,” You nod, “but I’m not sure what that would do for us, if I said ‘stop’, they’d ‘stop’, that’s not really my concern,”
“The traffic lights are also easy to remember,” She adds, “they’re in place because during intensive acts of dominance and submission, it can be difficult to find coherence and lucidity. You may not be able to articulate that you are starting to feel overwhelmed in so many words, but you can easily reach for ‘yellow’, a word you wouldn’t say otherwise and is simple and clear in your mind. People have used ‘green’, ‘yellow’, and ‘red’ since primary school. In moments of haziness, for many people, those words can still be recalled.”
“Oh,” Your eyes flick up to hers.
“You and your alphas may not be experimenting with bondage,” She smiles, “but many submissives experience headspace, subspace, even betas and alphas if they’re submitting. Colors are accessible for them and help them, so it’s just one method to consider as you work on strategizing for your heat.
You nod, “That makes sense,”
“If you choose to use it,” She adds, “something you can also do is ask that your alphas prompt you to provide an answer in the form of your color. It’s an opportunity to verbally have that evolving consent conversation in a way that isn’t unsexy or confusing when your emotions or hormones are heightened.”
“So, they say ‘what’s your color?’ and I answer?”
She nods, “Sure, I’d encourage you to find what works and make it your own, but that’s a common method, yes.”
“So then,” You think through her explanation, “in real BDSM relationships, what happens if someone says ‘yellow’ or ‘red’?”
She smiles, and you know you’re asking the right questions, “The specifics would be up to you and your partners, but typically ‘yellow’ would be a pause and verbally reassess together moment, and ‘red’ would be a hard stop that ends whatever is happening in that moment.”
“Got it,”
“It’s certainly not something you have to use if it doesn’t feel right for you and your partners,” She continues, “but I’ve seen it be effective for other omegas who have similar concerns around their heats, it can lend a feeling of control to an otherwise very out of control time.”
You don’t have anything to say, you just have to let that sink in.
“We can keep talking and strategizing in our session later this week,” She adds, “and in every session we have together until your heat.”
“I’d like that,”
Dr. Kang’s eyes glance up to the clock, it’s subtle and practiced, and she smiles, “We’re just about at time,” she says, “your homework for the next few days is to think through the specifics of what feels good and does not feel good to you for your upcoming heat. Consider talking that through with your alphas as well, but if you’re not comfortable with that quite yet we can discuss strategies for talking to them when we meet on Thursday.”
“Okay,” You breathe.
“y/n,” She smiles, starting to stand to signal it’s the end of the session, “you are going to be just fine, and I will be here every step of the way to help process all of it.”
“Thank you,” You manage, “I really appreciate you fitting me in,”
“Of course,” She softens, “and remember to be kind with yourself. Even in a few weeks you’ve made excellent progress, you should be proud of that.”
You’re not exactly sure you’re at proud of yourself territory quite yet, but you’re getting there.
When you walk out of her office, your thoughts are swirling. Yunho’s car is idling close to the entrance of the building, and when he sees you walking out he smiles at you through the windshield.
You give him a quick wave, quickly making your way over through the chilly air and then climbing into the passenger seat. His soothing scent wraps around you as you settle in and turn to him, “Hi, baby,” you murmur.
“Hey,” He replies, smoothing a hand over your thigh, “how was your session?”
“Good,” You manage, “a lot to think about,”
He nods, giving your knee a squeeze, but he doesn’t push you for details, “Buckle up, sweetheart,”
You smile as you clip the seatbelt in place, and he pulls the car forwards.
“Anything you need to talk through?” He checks as he merges into traffic and starts off towards the studio.
“Maybe tonight,” You answer, you’re still parsing through all the things you talked through with her, “but I’m okay,”
He nods, his hands smoothly spinning the wheel as he takes a turn, letting it slide back with ease in his grip. Once he’s steady on a straight road, he reaches back over and twines your fingers with his, never breaking his gaze ahead, “We’re here for whatever you need, okay?”
“I know,” Your thumb passes over his knuckles.
He gives your hand a squeeze, focusing on the road, but after a minute he glances your way, “I’ve got a packed day with New World meetings,” he says, “probably working a little late,”
Your nose crinkles, “Concept meetings all week, right?”
“Mm,” He nods, looking not even a little excited at the prospect of a week spent in board rooms instead of actually moving his body in the studio.
“I’m sorry,” You add, “that sucks,”
“It’s okay,” He shrugs, “but if you and Mingi need to get home early, take a taxi. I’ll pay for it, you don’t have to hang around just for me,”
“Kay,” You lift his hand, pressing a kiss to the back, “we’ll get dinner going for you,”
He softens and smiles, squeezing your hand once more before he pulls it back to the wheel to take the turn into the KQ parking garage, “I’ll never say no to dinner,”
Here, you can both sink into routine.
Yunho walks you inside, both of you nearly hip to hip. It’s instinct now, the way he stays close enough to touch you without crowding you. His hand hovers at your lower back, the warmth of him bleeding through your sweatshirt, and the steady comfort of his scent is a guiding force when your mind feels like it’s fraying.
You barely make it five steps through the main studio doors when you realize how alive it is today. You can hear New World’s next comeback thumping through the wall of the main studio room where they film their content, and your fellow dancers are all on the move towards their own respective studios or offices to get on with the day. Someone laughs loudly from down the corridor, the sound bright and sharp, immediately undercut by the sound of one of New World’s members calling eight counts.
You don’t have to look through the rooms to know who’s not here.
You’ve talked through every angle of his cycle, and Wooyoung’s heat is still sure to be in the thick throes of it. You can practically feel the empathetic echo of it in your own body just thinking of him. The pain, the aches, the slick heat, the endless wanting. You know exactly what he’s feeling right now.
And yet, your eyes glance through the first open door as you walk up the hall, “They’re not back yet?” You murmur, almost to yourself.
Yunho glances down at you, and then follows your line of sight, “Hm?”
“Just,” You shake off the question, you already know the answer, “Woo, Hwa, and Sannie.”
He hums, nodding, and this time his hand does rest on the small of your back, “No, not yet.”
Your chest tightens a little.
You think of the way you left them, Yeosang disappearing into uncharted territory and San and Seonghwa’s eyes fixed on him in a way you’d never seen from them before. They looked at him with such an exacting expression, not quite like a threat, something more akin to prey, their alphas stirring close to the surface and awareness flickering awake under their skin at someone new in their dynamic. You hope to hell that things fell into place once they all made it to Wooyoung’s nest, but you just don’t know.
You know how fast a heat can turn, how overwhelming it can be, how out of control.
There’s always medical intervention.
You shake that thought off as fast as it comes, but your stomach dips anyways, an uneasy curl in your belly.
“I’m sure they’re fine,” Yunho adds after a long beat of your silence, reading the shift in you as you make it to the back office door.
“They are,” You agree, because they are, they have to be, “I just…,”
Yunho watches the way you trail off, the way your eyes go a little unfocused.
I think you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that this heat is going to be scary and difficult to navigate.
Your therapist’s voice bubbles up again, and your eyes flick down and away from your alpha in a flash. Your body feels like a ticking time bomb, Wooyoung’s heat only making your own impending one seem properly tangible now. Scary and difficult to navigate is an understatement, an impartial third-party’s divorced way of saying that your worst fears are right.
That’s unfair, you know it is, but you hate this. Your body feels wrong, and you can’t tell if it’s because you’re close enough to taste your heat or if it’s psychosomatic, a self fulfilling biological prophecy. Every twinge in your back, every ache of your muscles, could be nothing or could be a whispered preview of what you already know is coming.
You watch Yunho’s hand tighten and release, but his voice is infinitely soft, “You can tell me anything.”
“I know,” The words are a reflex, and they roll easily off your tongue.
He watches you for a moment more and then lets it drop, and because the studio always seems to keep moving around you, you shift focus and ground yourself in the only thing you can.
While Yunho is stuck in New World concept meetings, your day, your life all the time really, is starting to be fully consumed with the impending debut of the girl group. It’s still seven months away, but in this industry that practically feels like tomorrow, especially for a debut.
Yunho catches your hand before you leave the office and pulls you back for a moment, pressing your water bottle into your hands, freshly filled, “Hydrate today, okay?”
You’re staring down the barrel of multiple dance practices and run throughs, and your body will be moving hard all day. You nod, giving him a slight smile, “I will,”
“I’ll find you for lunch if I can too,” He adds, “you need to eat,”
“Yunho,” You start, but at the sound of someone in the hallway you turn your head to catch Mingi walking towards you.
“Hey,” He grins at the sight of you, his pace picking up to meet you at the door and press a kiss to your lips, “Morning, baby,”
“Hi,” You soften.
“Stay one second,” He says, stepping into the office and dropping his bag on the desk to pull open the top zipper, “how was your session?”
“Good,” You answer automatically.
“Yeah?” He says as he pulls a white pastry bag from his duffle, “That’s good,”
“What’s this?” You take the bag he offers and smiles, starting to unroll the top.
“A treat,” He smiles, and then finally looks over to Yunho, “all good?”
“Mm,” Yunho nods, “busy day,”
“Yeah,”
Inside the bag is the cutest pastry, flaky layers of croissant and matcha cream, sliced strawberries and jam, and pink little bear adorning the top. You smile up at him, “Mingi,” you reach into the bag, “is this from that place I like?”
He nods, “Thought you could use something sweet after this weekend,”
Studies show that the effects of heats and ruts are much more intense for scent matched omegas and alphas.
The words echo once again in your mind, and you try not to let your face fall. Your stomach does an anxious somersault, and you leave the pastry in the bag, wrapping the top back up, “Thank you,” you tell him as you set the bag aside on the desk, “I’ll have it in a bit, I’m late to get this session started with Dahan,”
There’s the barest twinge of Mingi’s eyebrows, just a split second where you see that he’s questioning things, and Yunho’s eyes are still locked on you, but they don’t push.
“Alright,” You take a sliding step back towards the hall, “well, I’ll see you later,”
You don’t wait to hear their next words. Instead, you hurry down the hall for the booked Studio room, and try your best to put it all out of your mind.
The trainees for Violet Prism, the new girl group, are all ready and waiting when you make your way into the room, stretching and preparing for a long day of work. Dahan is already set up by the time you make it in, scrolling through something on the desktop computer in the corner, and before you know it, you’re in the thick of the day.
The girls are working hard, that much is clear. They have a hunger and a drive that you only ever see in trainees and rookies, a willingness to push themselves to the absolute limit at the expense of their own health, but they’re also still unrefined, still learning.
“Five, six, seven, eight,” The count leaves your lips automatically as you clap your hands sharply, trying to snap their attention back to center. The music pulses, the song you’ve been working on with them looping again, and the cluster of girls scramble back into their positions.
Their maknae bows quickly in apology at spacing out, but you shake your head to dismiss her concerns.
“It’s okay,” You assure, “let’s just reset from the top of the chorus,”
The girls step into formation while you give them a little room, moving towards the mirrored wall. A dull twinge flares up your back, and your jaw tightens. You’ve been on your feet for hours, it’s surely just that, but after this weekend, the hyperawareness sits in your chest.
“Ready?” Dahan calls from the other side of the studio.
The girls nod and so do you and the music starts again.
You force your focus on counts, spacing, and the sharpness of their lines instead of the unpleasant ache in your back and the anxious sensation low in your abdomen. It’s easier when you’re working, and when there’s something tangible for you to correct.
“You’re all missing the timing on the second turn,” You call, “run it back.”
You go again, and again, and again for good measure. You show them what they’re missing in the steps, in the synchronicity of their timing.
Lunch passes, and you ignore your phone on the back table even though it’s sure to be buzzing with texts and reminders from your alphas to care for yourself.
The studio lights feel warm, or maybe it’s your skin. It’s hard to tell after this long, and your shirt sticks unpleasantly to your back. You reach up to tighten your ponytail a little higher, and the movement pulls at your spine enough to make you wince.
Your heat is coming.
Your therapist’s voice whispers, a blunt reminder of what you already know.
“Let’s take fifteen,” Dahan calls the stop before you do, “that run was much better, we’re getting there.”
The girls collapse into heaps, groaning, exhausted, and chugging down water.
A bead of sweat rolls from your neck down your chest, and your breath starts to feel tight.
“I’ll be back,” You move quickly, but calmly, grabbing your water bottle on the way out the door. With precision you make a beeline for the bathroom and shut yourself inside, bracing yourself on the closed door and flicking the lock closed so you can have a moment alone.
You drag in a breath to steady yourself, to try to search your own sensation out to see what’s anxiety and what’s more.
A quick knock on the door startles you, and you stammer out a reply, “Just a second!”
Yunho’s voice comes through like a salve, “Baby? It’s me, let me in,”
You fumble with the lock and pull the door open, “What are you doing here?”
He steps in and shuts the door behind him, his hands coming to your face so he can get a good look at you, “I was in the hall, you pushed right past me,”
“Oh,” You blink, you didn’t even see him.
His brows are pulled together in concern, and he lifts your water bottle, “Drink,”
You take a long sip, hoping that the cold water might settle the restless buzzing underneath your skin, but if anything it just makes you more aware of yourself. Your body feels loud, you can feel the thump of your pulse and the knots in your stomach, and you hate it.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard today,” Yunho says.
You glance up at him, “You’re not even in my session today,”
“I don’t need to be in the session to know that, y/n,”
Annoyingly, you know that’s true. Your eyes flick down again, “I’m fine,”
“When you say that,” Yunho points out gently, “that usually means the opposite.”
A tiny flicker of heat prickles behind your eyes, and you press your lips together hard enough to stop yourself from reacting to the concern threaded through his voice. You don’t want to do this here, today, and you can’t go back to a rehearsal room and see your composure cracking in the mirrors when you have work to do.
You especially don’t want to do this when your omega already feels close enough to the surface that every protective note in Yunho’s scent catches against your ribs and begs you to climb into his arms.
“I said I’m okay, Yunho,” You manage, “I just needed a minute.”
He studies you for a long moment, but just like this morning, he relents. With a sigh he nods, “You’ll tell me when you’re not?”
“Yes,” You meet his gaze, “I promise.”
His eyes flick over your expression.
“I just can’t really think about this right now,” You tell him honestly, “I don’t have room for it.”
“Alright,” He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I understand.”
“I have to get back,” You take another sip of water, mostly to appease him, and wait for him to move out of the way of the door.
Yunho makes space, and you hurry back to practice.
Work resumes, but your body still feels tense, and the next two hours crawl by.
You normally love this part of the dance process. The repetition, the gradual sharpening of each detail, watching the moment when a dancer finds it and commits it to muscle memory. Today, everything just feels slippery in your hands. Your concentration is drifting too easily, your body aching in strange little flashes that you can’t help but spiral about, and it doesn’t help that Yunho keeps finding reasons to stop by the studio room.
He disguises it well, picking up items he’s left, dropping off items for New World who has the room booked later, even just passing by outside the door and peering in through the glass.
Halfway through demonstrating an arm pathway, showing the girls exactly how the line of their body should extend and arc in the mirror, a cramp tightens in your lower stomach enough that you have to disguise the hitch in your breath as a cough.
From the back of the studio, you watch Yunho watching you. No one else notices the real source of the discomfort, but he does, and he narrows his eyes the second he sees the expression on your face.
You shake your head, but the look he gives you in return promises that this conversation is far, far from over.
By the time rehearsal ends, your nerves feel sanded raw from sheer hyperawareness.
Yunho is locked in meetings at the KQ Offices for his afternoon, giving you a blissful moment to just breathe into the sensations of your body and try to figure out if you’re on edge because of the panic or because of your impending heat.
So this boils down to talk to them?
Your question from earlier today flits through your mind, “Fuck,” you curse softly, rubbing at your tired eyes.
You find your phone where it’s been sitting, face down on the desk, and read the string of text messages.
In your pack group chat, there are three messages waiting:
I should get home around 8 if these meetings wrap up on time. – Yunho
Yep. I’ll start dinner. – Mingi
Babe I’m ready in the office when you’re good to go. – Mingi
You tap back a quick reply and let him know you’re packing up, and then you see the single direct message from Yunho, just a private note from him to you.
You worked hard today, you did well today. Please eat something substantial with some protein, drink your water, and don’t forget to stretch. I love you.
Your chest tightens a little, and you send back a heart, before finding your other Alpha and getting out of the studio for the night. By the time you step out into the cool early evening air, the sharpest edges of your anxiety have dulled, but it’s still there like a weight in your gut.
Mingi fixes the loop of your scarf while you wait for the car that will take you home.
“Tired?” He asks gently.
“A little,”
For a moment you wonder if he’ll ask about your session, if he’ll poke and prod and fuss over you like Yunho did, but he doesn’t.
Instead, Mingi reads you like he always does, “How was rehearsal?”
The anxiety softens a little more and you lean into his side, “Long,” you sigh.
Mingi talks about work the whole way home, and when you tell him you’re going to decompress in the shower, he lets you go with ease. As you pass your nest, the door ajar, your stomach tightens. Somewhere in the back of your mind you file that away, just like you file away the sudden urge to move the fluffy pillows from the right side to the left side of the room.
Instead, you reorganize the bathroom medicine cabinet while you wait for the shower to heat up.
The water runs hot, and you take an extra twenty minutes under the steady beat of the water to try and relax your muscles, to let the day sluff off, and to calm your omega, but it only sort of works. After, when you’re dressed in softer, cozier clothes, you pad out into the kitchen with your mind still hitching over and over on your therapy session like a skipped record.
In the kitchen, Mingi’s focused, touching a clean fingertip to the sauce he’s mixing before swiping it off with his tongue, tasting it to gauge its flavor. He lets the flavor sink in, and then he reaches for the sesame oil to add a dash more.
You lean against the door frame, watching him move about the kitchen with ease, but then he glances to the side and sees you.
“Hey,” He waves you in, setting an onion onto a cutting board, “come chop for me,”
“‘Kay,” You slide into position as his sous chef and pull a knife off the magnetic strip on the wall.
Mingi steps away to check on the chicken that’s parboiling on the stove and you cleanly slice through the onion and remove the papery husk to start chopping.
“Dakdoritang?” You ask, glancing over the ingredients.
“Mhm,” Behind you, you hear the musical sound of the rice cooker as he queues it up, “this time I double checked the salt, I promise,”
You smile, your knife sliding cleanly through the onion again and again.
Mingi shifts back to your side, “Tch,” he makes the sound with his tongue against his teeth, “careful, babe,”
You lift your knife, glancing up at him, and he covers the hand that rests over the onion, prompting your fingers to curl so that when you cut the side of the knife only brushes your knuckles, no chance of cutting your fingertips. You roll your eyes a little, “It’s harder like this,” you grumble, but keep your hand in that shape as you continue to chop.
“Yeah,” Mingi shrugs, “but this way I’m not calling Yunho to tell him dinner’s cancelled because our omega sliced off a finger,”
“Mingi,” You sigh, but the smile doesn’t leave your lips.
“Humor me,” He says, pulling a few carrots and potatoes out to queue those up for you to chop next.
“Mm,” You murmur, and keep working on the vegetables while Mingi finishes the sauce. Everything’s relaxed for a few minutes, just the smooth slice of your knife and the bubbling pot on the stove.
When he gets the sauce mixed in with the chicken to simmer and you’re almost finished with the carrots, Mingi’s fingers brush down your spine, “You’re quiet today,” he comments gently.
“Am I?” You murmur.
“Mm,” He nods, “you’re stressed,”
“I’m alright,” You reply, biting the inside of your cheek, letting the knife come down a little too firmly through a carrot with a sharp sound.
Mingi hums softly, his warm chest pressed against your back now, and he reaches around to still your hands and slide the knife away, “You are,” he counters gently, “you smell bitter, and you’ve been fidgeting all day.”
His words pull a long, tired exhale from you, and you lean back into his arms, “Yeah,”
“You can tell me anything,” He says, his lips pressing to the crown of your head.
“I know,”
“So what’s going on in your head?” He prompts you.
Your body starts to slowly relax into his, and you finally let the words come, “My heat’s coming,” you confess, “fast,”
Mingi stiffens a little, craning his neck to look down at your face, “How fast?”
“I’m not sure,” You say honestly, “but I caught myself wanting to nest before I got in the shower, and with the spike, I think I’m ahead of schedule,”
“Okay,” His arms tighten, and he drops his chin onto your shoulder despite how much he has to bend over to do it, “you know we’ve got you, right?”
“I do,” You nod, “but I… I still don’t think I’m ready for it.”
“You’re afraid,” Mingi observes.
Your fingers curl against the counter, emotions tugging at your chest and you nod, “Yeah,”
“Come here babe,” Mingi gently spins you so that you’re facing him, his hands ginger on your jaw as he tilts your face up.
“I’m okay,” The words leave your lips but the tone of your voice, the haziness in your eyes, it all betrays you.
“Oh, baby,” His brows draw together in a sympathetic expression, his glasses slipping down his nose a little but he makes no move to fix them, “no, you’re not.”
You swallow tightly, your throat constricted with the threat of tears and you shake your head, just a little.
“What happened in your session?” Mingi’s thumb brushes tenderly along your cheek.
“Uh,” You clear your throat, pulling away a little to wipe your eyes with the sleeves of Yunho’s crewneck sweatshirt that you stole out of the laundry, “we talked, I mean, the session was good, but it’s making it really real,”
Mingi studies your face for another moment, and then he nods, “Alright, hold on,”
Your brows knit together as you watch him quickly get the food to a place where it’s just simmering on its own without needing him to pay close attention. He works efficiently, completely focused, before wiping his hands off on the towel slung over his shoulder and coming back to stand in front of you.
“Mingi?” You look up at him.
Without a word, he reaches for you and picks you up by your waist, dropping you down onto a clean spot on the counter and stepping forward between your open knees.
You brace yourself on his shoulders, a little squeak of surprise bubbled from your lips when he drops you.
“One more second,” He leans forward and presses a close lipped kiss to your lips and then pulls out his phone.
He opens up your pack group chat and taps out a quick message – @Yunho come home.
“He’s working,” You shake your head, reaching for his phone, but Mingi just clicks send and then holds it out of your reach high above your heads.
“I don’t care,” Mingi shrugs, “something’s wrong with our omega,”
A little piece of you melts, but you sigh and rest your hands on his chest, “It’s not an emergency,”
One of his eyebrows raises.
“It’s not,” You insist.
Mingi exhales, tucking his phone in his back pocket and resting his broad hands on your thighs, “Maybe it’s an emergency, maybe it’s not,” he concedes, “but your heat is coming and it’s scaring you. We’re your alphas, and we are not going to shrug that off, okay?”
You manage a nod, “Okay,”
For a moment, neither of you speaks. Mingi watches you carefully, and you take the moment to breathe. You listen to the bubbling pot on the stove and the way fresh rain has started tapping sharply against the apartment windows.
“Your session,” Mingi finally asks, “you talked about your heat?”
You nod once.
“And?”
Your hands close on the cuffs of Yunho’s sweatshirt. “We talked about a lot of things,” You start, searching for the right words to make this make sense to him, “we talked about control, I guess.”
Mingi’s expression stays open, patient, and he nods, “That’s a scary word when it comes to heats,”
You release a humorless little laugh, “Exactly.”
He waits. It’s one of the things that Mingi does best when you get overwhelmed. Where Yunho tends to push gently forwards, nudging you to speak before you disappear too far into yourself, Mingi waits you out instead, he lets the thoughts untangle themselves at their own pace.
“I just keep thinking about last time,” You admit softly.
His hands still, now just resting on your thighs, “Minseok?” He asks carefully.
“No,” You shake your head, “no, my heat,”
Understanding settles in his eyes, “Oh,”
“Bits of it are blurry,” Your throat tightens, “not all of it, I remember some of it, but there’s pieces that feel…,” you search helplessly for the right description, “floaty,”
Mingi listens without interrupting.
“Logically, I know that’s normal,” You keep going, “and Dr. Kang said it’s normal for instincts to take over during intense heats and ruts, especially scent matched ones, but, it’s just,”
His eyes flick over your face, and when you can’t find the word this time, he fills in, “It doesn’t feel normal to you, though,”
“No,” You sigh, “it doesn’t,”
“Yeah,” His hands smooth up and down your thighs again, encouraging you forward.
“In my session,” You manage, “she asked me if I was afraid of going into heat, or afraid of losing control during my heat.”
“And?” Mingi asks gently.
You shake your head, eyes finding the ceiling when you can’t quite look him in the eyes, “I’m terrified,” you confess, “I’m so scared of not remembering things,”
“Baby,” Mingi’s face softens, his body leaning towards yours like a gravitational pull guiding him closer.
“I know how intense things get,” You keep going, letting it all out now that the words finally come, "Instincts come over, and then you’re in the haze of it, but what if I go too deep? What if I disappear into all of that and I don’t know what’s happening around me? To me?”
Mingi’s jaw flexes once as he takes in your words.
“What if I lose time?” The question hangs in the air, exposing all your innermost fears, and then you look up at him, “What if I wake up after and feel like my body made choices without me?”
Mingi’s brows draw together, a pained expression raw on his face now, and he slides his hands up to cup your hips, “Is that what’s been eating at you today?” He asks.
You nod.
“You were so ‘on’ at work today,” He observes, “intense even,”
Heat floods your face immediately, “You noticed that?”
“Mm,” He nods, “baby, I know you. You’re my omega, I notice everything,”
Your head dips, “God,”
“And me and Yunho do talk,” Mingi smiles a little, drawing your gaze up with his hand gently on your chin, “we are doing our best not to be overbearing, but we knew something was up.”
“Yeah,”
His thumb smooths along your jaw, his eyes going soft again, “You want to know what I think?”
Your eyes lock to his.
“I think you’re trying really hard to stay anchored to yourself right now,”
A tight sensation curls in your chest.
“I think that somewhere in your brain you decided that if you organize enough things, control enough things, stay disciplined and vigilant and push through the things your body is trying to tell you, maybe this heat won’t be able to sweep you away.”
The sensation in your chest throbs, a deep ache, “I…,” you shake your head, your voice a soft whisper, “Mingi, I don't want to disappear,”
“You won’t,” He murmurs, his hand sliding forward to cup your neck, his thumb still tender on your cheek.
“How can you possibly know that?” You breathe.
“You didn’t disappear last time,” He offers.
Your brows pull together and you open your mouth to tell him all the reasons why this is different, but this time he doesn’t let you spiral.
“No, listen to me,” He shakes his head, “your last heat with us, we were practically strangers. Your body was under an incredible amount of stress, and you placed your trust in us without a whole hell of a lot to go on.”
“I–,”
“Your instincts took over,” He keeps going, “and your omega was right at the surface. You needed things from us, you acted without thinking, but you were still you. You were always you, even in the haze,”
You blink at him.
“You may not remember every second of your heat, but I do, baby,” He presses, “me and Yunho know exactly what happened in that room,”
“But I–,”
“You were with us,” He holds your gaze on him, “you made choices. You said what you wanted and said what you didn’t. You communicated the whole time, even when you were floating. Despite the situation and how scary that probably was for you, trusting us to hold you like that, you didn’t disappear. You were never just a body, or just an omega, never.”
Emotion catches in your throat, “But that was before Minseok tried to…” you can’t say it. You both know what he did, what he would have done after, “I’ve panicked with you both after that, it’s different now,”
Mingi nods, “I know that,” he says without an ounce of defensiveness, without dismissing you, “I’m not saying we pretend that fear doesn’t exist, or that trauma hasn’t changed you and us,”
The tension behind your ribs relaxes just a little.
“You are expecting yourself to handle this perfectly,” He murmurs, shaking his head a little, “and you and I both know that you would never expect that from anybody else that you love.”
Tears prick at the back of your eyes, hot and tight.
With a gentle hand, Mingi smooths your hair back from your face and steps a fraction closer between your open knees, “If you panic during your heat, we will help you through that. If you get overwhelmed, we will slow down.”
The hand on your hip slides up to cup your waist, and Mingi rests his forehead against yours.
“We were made to keep you safe, baby,” He whispers, “and we will move heaven and earth to do that,”
You reach for him, your hands knotting into his t-shirt, and when you inhale it’s with a soft, wet sound, “But what if get lost in my own head, Mingi, I can’t go there again, I can’t,”
“Honey, look at me,” His voice breaks as he pulls back, cupping your face, “if you go away again, we will come get you.”
Tears slip down your cheeks, “Mingi,”
“There is nowhere you could go,” He promises you steadily, “not even inside your own head, that we wouldn’t follow you.”
You sink into his chest, a sob caught on your lips, cheeks hot with embarrassment, with shame, but Mingi just gathers you closer and cradles you to his chest.
“Baby,” He murmurs against your hair, “hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m here,”
Your forehead presses against his sternum and you shake your head, “I hate this, I hate being this scared.”
“I know,” He soothes.
“I know you’d never hurt me,” The confession tumbles out, messy and tangled, “I know you’d keep me safe, but I don’t want to lose control like that. I don’t want to be locked inside my head, I don’t want to f-feel him on top of me again, I… I can’t,”
“Breathe,” Mingi holds you tighter, “breathe with me right now,”
You suck in a staggered breath against the wet cotton of his shirt.
“It’s okay to be scared, and I know you are terrified, but he is never, ever going to touch you again, never.” His words are firm, unequivocal, “and if your body gets confused, we will find a way through it. But honey, your heat is coming, and suppressing your instincts and pretending your omega doesn’t need things is going to make this worse, not better.”
“I just want this to be normal,” You admit softly, still steadily breathing with him.
“When have we ever had normal,” He kisses your hair, “hmm?”
You let out a wet laugh into his chest.
Mingi gently uncouples your bodies enough to look down at you, wiping away your tears gently with the pad of his thumb, “I want our not normal,” he says, “I want our hard days just as much as our good ones. As long as we’re together, we will be okay, I can promise you that.”
You wipe away the remnants of your tears, nodding and letting out a shaky exhale, and then you sink forward and lean your forehead on his again, tucked close together in the warmth of the kitchen. Your heart rate starts to settle, the knot inside you relaxing again, and you nuzzle Mingi’s nose with yours, “You really like me that much, huh?”
He huffs a light laugh with an exhale through his nose, shaking his head, “Shut up,”
“I’m just saying,” You tease him gently, leaning back and fixing him with a look, “that was kind of a declaration.”
“You’re my mate,” He says simply, the corner of his lips pulled up in the slightest smile, “there’s nothing casual about how I feel about you, and you know it.”
“Good,” You tug him forward with your fingers fisted in his shirt and lock your lips to his.
Mingi leans into you, strong arms wrapping around your back. He hums against your lips, a steady vibration that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.
“I love you,” You whisper against his lips.
“I love you too,” He says in a breath, kissing you again and holding you close.
Just as you feel your body start to unspool with the relief of giving your fears to him to hold, the sharp sound of your front door banging open breaks you both apart with a start.
Mingi tenses, his lips breaking from yours as he turns, but then you hear Yunho call out, “Mingi? y/n?”
You let out a breath, smiling with a little relief that it’s just Yunho.
The door slams shut equally as hard though and you and Mingi exchange a quick, worried glance at each other.
“Baby?” Yunho calls again, clear concern threaded through his tone.
“We’re in here,” Mingi calls out, “in the kitchen,”
Yunho’s there in a flash, his expression tight and his eyes scanning you both like he’s searching for a threat, for an injury.
“Hey–,” you start to say, but Yunho muscles his way past Mingi and wraps you tightly in his arms, yanking you off the counter and crushing you to his chest.
“You’re alright?” He checks, his hand cupping the back of your head, his heart hammering against your chest where you’re pressed together.
“Why wouldn’t I be alright?” The words are muffled by his shoulder.
“She’s fine,” Mingi assures, one hand landing on Yunho’s back.
He releases a shuddering breath, reaching back with one arm to find your other alpha, “Min,” Yunho manages, his voice hoarse, “you’re good?”
“I’m fine,” Mingi smiles, patting Yunho’s hand where it landed on his waist, “are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“You texted ‘come home’,” Yunho pulls back enough that he can see your face, studying you once more like he just has to be sure, before letting you back down on your feet and stepping back to face you both, “and then you didn’t answer any calls,”
Mingi grimaces, “Shit,” he reaches for his phone, “sorry, no we’re fine,”
Yunho’s jaw tightens and releases, “You scared the shit out of me,”
“I’m sorry,” You soften, reaching for him, “we didn’t mean to worry you.”
He lets out a long, relieved exhale, and drops his head, shaking it, “Fuck,” he says, “you two are going to put me in an early grave,”
“We’re okay,” Mingi reiterates, squeezing Yunho’s shoulder, “and you know I’ve got her, she’s safe with me,”
Yunho’s brows draw together as he lifts his head, “I know that,” he sighs again, an echo of the adrenaline still humming off him, “I just… I don’t know what I thought, I was worried,”
“I’m okay,” You promise.
“After today, with everything going on,” He shakes his head, clearly rattled, and then he takes in your expression fully, “you’ve been crying,”
“We’re okay,” You reiterate softly.
Yunho searches your face before wrapping you up in his arms again, only this time with your back pressed to his front, pressing a long kiss to your hair, “Talk to me, what’s with the text?”
You feel bad now, the idea that he rushed home, likely leaving a meeting just to make sure his pack was still whole, still well. The briefest flash of the practice room echoes back to you, Yunho’s face above yours, his face stricken and terrified.
“I texted because we need to talk,” Mingi says, crossing his arms and looking between you both, “as a pack.”
“Mingi,” You complain weakly, “don’t scare him,”
“Too late,” Yunho says, his arms still wrapped tightly around you from behind, the frantic edge that came through the front door is still lingering under his skin, adrenaline and his alpha instinct tangled together in a sharper, more heady scent than his normal cedar and rain.
“She’s been spiraling since therapy,” Mingi sums up, “and we talked, but there’s things we all need to talk about together,”
Your lips press closed.
Yunho’s nose brushes slowly against your temple as he curls around you, “What happened in the session?”
“We talked about my next heat,” You say after a moment, brushing your hand along his forearm to keep him calm.
Mingi adds the rest, “The spike probably means her real heat is closer than we thought,” his voice is gentler now, guiding Yunho into the conversation.
Yunho’s quiet for a moment, and then he exhales slowly through his nose. You feel his posture adjust, it’s subtle, but present, his attention now fully attuned to you as his omega, not just as his girlfriend.
“How fast?” Yunho asks carefully.
“I don’t know,” You shake your head, “but I’m feeling my omega more,”
Mingi nods, “Nesting urges,”
Yunho’s head lifts up, “Already?”
“A bit,” You concede.
He’s quiet, and you twist a little in his hold to look up at him. His expression is calculated, the same face he gets when he’s in rehearsals or choreography meetings and he’s already five steps ahead trying to solve a problem before anyone else even realizes it's there to begin with.
After a moment he nods, “We’ll handle it.”
“The other part though,” Mingi says, “is that the closer it's getting, the more she’s thinking about last time.”
Yunho’s hand slips under the hem of your sweatshirt and rests on the bare skin of your waist, “You’re worried about the haze, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” You nod, your throat tightening at how quickly he knows that, how closely he must be watching you to know that without having to hear anything at all.
He presses a firm kiss to the crown of your head.
“It scared me before,” You explain, “not knowing where parts of it went, the way it came back to me in pieces,”
Yunho’s grip tightens a little, something instinctive and protective in the way he holds you, but he just nods and says, “I know, sweetheart,”
You lean your body weight into him, letting out a slow exhale. You remember so many little flashes of your heat with them, and your mind trips over static images in a sudden rush. Yunho holding your wrists gently against his chest to keep you focused on the beat of his heart, Mingi murmuring steady softness into your ear, coming back to yourself in slow, disconnected pieces, their scents wrapped around you so thick it was impossible to think about anything outside of their arms.
“Just,” You let your head fall back against his chest, “Yunho, what if this time it’s worse?”
“What if this time it’s better?” He counters gently.
Mingi smiles softly, but you shake your head, “Yunho,”
“You’re safe with us, you’re in love with us, this time we’re going into this as a pack,” He points out, “your next heat will be different in good ways too.”
“Good point,” Mingi leans against the counter next to you both, “he’s right about that, babe,”
That hadn’t occurred to you at all. Your first heat after a scent match is supposed to be a beautiful thing. The way a pack moves together, breathes together, in complete sync and safety, you hadn’t even let yourself entertain that as an option.
“I’m sure Mingi said this,” Yunho slides another hand under your sweatshirt, his hands spread wide over your ribs, your stomach, the direct comfort of skin on skin for your both, “but we will get you through this heat, sweetheart. We’re yours, you’re ours, this is what we do.”
“I know you will,” You sink into him, your eyes flicking up to meet Mingi’s gaze.
“And,” Yunho adds gently, “if your instincts are telling you that you need something, you need to trust it. Your omega is a part of you, just our alphas are a part of us. Acting on that part of yourself isn’t the same thing as losing yourself,”
You go still in his arms.
“I know you’re scared,” He murmurs, “but we have you.”
Mingi steps closer, reaching for you both, cupping your cheek with one hand and resting the other at the back of Yunho’s neck.
“We do,” Mingi says, pressing a kiss to your forehead and giving Yunho a squeeze, before he leans back again against the counter.
“Now,” Yunho shifts you both so that you’re all facing each other when he asks his next question, “What did Dr. Kang say? Did she give you anything more concrete to work with?”
You can practically hear her in the room talking about all the tools in your toolbox, or maybe it’s exactly the same language that he uses with his own therapist.
Either way you smile, “A few things, mostly some grounding strategies,”
Yunho nods, fully focused now, “Good, like what?”
“She said familiar sensory things can help if I start getting too out of it,” You explain, “music, phrases, touch, routines, things that would anchor me into my conscious thoughts.”
While Yunho catalogues it all, Mingi nods, “We can definitely do that.”
“Maybe we can talk about that stuff tonight?” You offer gently.
“We’ll make a plan,” Yunho agrees, “did she give you anything else to think about?”
Heat creeps slowly up your neck as you remember the session, “Just, ah,” you trail off, trying to find the right words, “some communication stuff.”
Yunho’s brows knit together slightly, “What kind of communication stuff?”
You make a soft, non-committal noise, eyes flicking down to the edge of your sweatshirt sleeves, “Oh, you know,”
Yunho smiles, still confused but a little amused, “No, I don’t,” he gently nudges you, “that’s why I’m asking, baby.”
“Right,” You breathe, gathering a little resolve, “well, okay, this is going to sound weird,”
“How weird could it be?” Mingi quips before he can think better of it and you glare weakly at him.
“It’s just us,” Yunho says.
It takes a minute, while you work out how to say it, but in the end the words just spill out, “Do you know anything about BDSM?”
Mingi’s eyes widen before he blinks once, caught completely off guard by your question. Yunho’s eyebrows just lift, the confusion in his brow clearing entirely as pieces slot together for him.
Your cheeks heat, “Oh my god, nevermind,”
“No, no, no,” Mingi says quickly, taking your arms in his hands, “don’t deflect yet, I’m just trying to catch up,”
“It’s not–,” You start to say.
“Because, babe,” Mingi smiles, a little hint of teasing in his eyes, “I don’t know what this has to do with your heat, but if you want me to like, tie you up or make you bark or something, I’m open minded.”
You make a strangled noise, “Mingi!”
“What?” He laughs, “I’m being supportive!”
“And you went straight to barking like a dog?” You burst into laughter, “What do you think BDSM is?”
“I mean some people are into that,” Mingi shrugs, before adding, “probably,”
Yunho finally breaks, laughing under his breath and shaking his head, “You are not helping,”
“And you do not seem surprised enough by this conversation,” Mingi points out.
“Oh my god,” It’s your turn to be surprised at Yunho’s lack of reaction, and you’re starting to wonder what your boyfriend’s internet search history looks like.
Yunho clears his throat, “Anyways,” he tries to refocus, “I’m assuming Dr. Kang was talking about consent frameworks?”
Your mouth falls open a little before you can recover, “Yes…,”
“Did she suggest something specific?” Yunho ignores the shocked look on both your faces.
“The traffic light system?” You offer.
To your utter surprise, he nods, “That’s a really good idea, actually.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Mingi blinks.
“Jesus,” Yunho blushes this time, “I don’t know all that much, and what I do know is mostly theoretical, calm down,”
“Mostly,” You point out.
“This is definitely not the main takeaway from this conversation,” Yunho groans.
“Yeah,” You smile, “but it is terribly interesting information,”
“Mhm,” Yunho crosses his arms.
“Relax,” You reach up to him, craning on tip toe to cup his cheek, “I’m not judging, I’m glad you know what the fuck you’re doing, even theoretically, okay?”
He sighs, dipping forwards, kissing you softly, and then wrapping his arms back around you, “Okay,”
Mingi hums, “Someone’s going to have to clue me in,”
“Tonight,” Yunho says, “with how close your heat might be,” his hand runs a comforting line up and down your back, “we need to figure this out soon,”
Your body softens into him again, “Thank you,”
“We’ve got this,” Mingi says, “we’ll figure everything out.”
“Of course we will,” Yunho nods.
There’s a pull in your gut telling you what to do, and you resist the urge to push it down and keep it to yourself, “Can we talk in the nest?”
“Of course we can,” Yunho smiles softly, “I think that’s the perfect place.”
“I’d feel comfortable there,” You admit, “and I need to do a little rearranging before it drives me insane,”
“I’ll get some of our shirts too,” Mingi adds, knowing exactly what you’ll need to start slowly preparing your nest the right way.
“Please,”
“Before any of that,” Yunho straightens up, running a hand down your hair, “you haven’t eaten a thing, have you?”
“It was a busy day,” You offer as an excuse.
“Mm,” Yunho shakes his head, but lets it pass, “let’s eat, it smells amazing in here,” Yunho says, leaning over to press a soft kiss to Mingi’s cheek before heading for the stove.
Mingi’s cheeks redden, a gentle smile on his lips.
“Both of you go sit,” Yunho shoos you away when you start to reach for a bowl, “you cooked, I’ll take care of the rest.”
He’s fussing, you can see that in the way he’s taking care of you both. You know deep down he’s worried about your heat the same as you are, he’s thinking of every possibility and every solution so he’s ready, and if caring for you now while you’re in the beginning stages of your pre-heat helps settle him, you want nothing more than to give that to him.
Your heat is coming, a biological inevitability, but as you tuck yourself onto Mingi’s lap and watch Yunho prepare the banchan and bowls of warm rice, you know there’s another inevitability to contend with. They love you, and there’s nothing they wouldn’t do to keep you safe, to keep you whole.
This will be hard, but you’ll survive it.
And maybe, just maybe, Yunho’s right. Maybe this heat will be different in good ways too.
I missed you. I missed them and your writing!
It was well worth almost a year wait! It’s like I just read the previous chapter yesterday on AO3 and it’s still so clear in my head happened before.
Thank you for gracing my Wednesday with this wonderful chapter 😭💕
