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How Your Garden Grows

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Yoongi is not a stranger to darkness.

He’s used to navigating through the dark when night falls and sunlight can no longer slip throughs his homes boarded up windows. He’s used to feeling blind in a world where he has perfect vision.

He has spent multiple days locked up and alone in a pitch-black room as he rides out his heat in silent anguish. He knows that the only way to survive in this world is to keep your lips shut and yours eyes adapted to dim rooms.

What Yoongi is not used to is being lined up, side by side, with dozens of other omegas, in an empty warehouse.

Their fear clogs up the air and fills it with a sickly-sweet fragrance that leaves Yoongi feeling nauseous. He feels those around him pressing against him, finding calmness in how he has the resolve to hide his smell of dread. The only thing that comes off him is the smell of the ocean. Warm and gentle, it offers a tempting temporary tranquility for the hoard of omegas itching to get near him, but are too afraid to step out of line, because staying in the line is the only thing keeping them safe.

Everyone in the line has their age written with a marker on their right cheek, and their name written on their left. How they got that information varies for the individual, but Yoongi remembers that his mistake came in the form of a volunteer application that he found after pickpocketing the wrong person. It must have been his repercussion for surviving off of money and food he had found in other people’s pockets.

A black twenty-one stretches from his jaw to the corner of his eye. His name is written much smaller, barely taking up half of his cheek. It is the less crucial information after all.

Yoongi’s age means that he has four whole years to birth offspring into this dying world before the virus affects him. With those odds he could most likely birth three offspring that other people would get to take care of. It’s not bad odds. Three lives for one will help the world grow older.

From what Yoongi has gathered from eavesdropping on passing conversations on the better end of town, the only reason so many omegas would be lined up like this, is to be bought and sold as breeding stock. Whether it be to a rich family as a bride, or to an unregistered breeding factory as a blood mare, it made little difference. All of these omegas would be losing their lives in one way or another.

Omegas go missing in hoards where he’s from. It’s why his brother kept him locked below his house in their basement. Little good it did them, he got caught eventually, but that’s more his fault then his brother’s. It’s his fault for signing up for an experiment in exchange for money. The first generation hosting a volunteer experiment to fix the mess they created should have been a red flag. He should have realized the risk, after all, the first generation seemed to have already given up on finding a cure.

At least he will have his brother to miss him. Yoongi doubts that any of the others will have someone who will notice that they’re gone until they end up dead in a ditch somewhere. It’s always such an eyesore to come across others looting their bodies. Yoongi has enough respect to honor the dead and leave their pockets unturned, but a dead man won’t be needing a coat during the winter.

Men in ominous grey coats watched their every move as they lay poorly hidden in the shadows. Weapons are prohibited since the population started declining, but it’s obvious that guns lay hidden beneath their long trench coats. The outlines of their guns bulged obscenely, it’s what keeps everyone cemented in their place.

Those men with their long grey coats that scuff the ground and their black masks that cover everything but their eyes, have become today’s boogey man. They’re notorious for tracking down omegas and young children, and selling them on the black market to whoever is willing to pay them the most.

This must have been one of those orchestrated events. Yoongi reckons that they were waiting for the buyers to show up and have their pick of the litter. Yoongi supposes that he should be thankful that there aren’t any children being sold off, but when he looks at the numbers on these omega’s faces, he can’t be entirely sure that’s the case. Just because they’re old enough to breed doesn’t mean they’re adults.

After what seems like a pause in time, a man with dark glasses covering his eyes walks in. Brown hair juts out of a cap pulled down over most of his forehead, and a heavy camouflage jacket encases his long frame even though it’s almost summer.

An awkward smile dominates the visible parts of his face as his long limbs move towards the line. He seems to consider each omega carefully, taking in everything from their hips sizes to the condition of their teeth, before shaking his head at several of them. It’s such a quick and simple action, but Yoongi dreads the weight of what it could mean. Those who are rejected from a rich family, always have their value go down one way or another.

Those that he rejects are moved out of the room by one of the grey coated men. Their screams are the only things that get left behind.

This goes on for a while. The man shakes his head. The coats drag them away. A scream echoes. Rinse. Wash. Repeat.

Eventually, the man in glasses comes across a boy with a big sixteen printed on his cheek. The man tugs him forward, out of the line, and keeps moving. The grey coats leave the boy where he stands, and his scream remains trapped inside his body.

Yoongi watches the boy with curiosity. His young age is hidden by the hard-defined muscles in his back and the strength in his shoulders and arms. The over masking smell of omegas in distress hides his smell, but if he wasn’t in this room, Yoongi would have assumed this youth to be an Alpha at first glance.

It seems strange that someone seeking a bride would go for an unconventional omega. Most second generations aspire for the typical picture of a proper omega: weak, soft, and obedient. Was this man really looking for brides? Was this all a ploy to string together some new members for a circus act? Then why request only omegas? More questions piled up in Yoongi’s head than he knew what to do with.

Lost in thought, Yoongi didn’t realize the man had approached him until he felt the man tilt up his chin. His cold hands moving to feel the creases of his face. On reflex, Yoongi swung his hand up and struck the man across the face, his glasses nearly falling to the floor.

The whole room is still silent, but a chill of regret rakes through Yoongi as he sees the grey coats unmasked their weapons. Yoongi closes his eyes and prays it will be quick.

To the surprise of everyone, the man stops them. Instead he graces Yoongi with his awkward smile and softly rubs his thumbs over Yoongi’s eyes, urging them to open, before continuing to feel around his body. He places large clumsy hands on his waist. Slowly dragging their way upwards. He tenderly places his hands on Yoongi’s neck before burrowing his nose in his throat. The man inhales deeply with a shuttering sigh, before pulling away and grasping Yoongi’s wrist.

The man then pulls him forward, before continuing through the line as if nothing had happened.

The muscular omega meets his gaze with a small secretive smile grazing his lips. Approval burned in his eyes and Yoongi could only assume that his accidental slip up had helped him form an alliance of sorts. In return, Yoongi narrows his eyes at the floor as he waits for the selection to end.

Finally, the man reaches the end of the line, but he faces difficulty pulling his final choice forward.

The boy in the man’s grasp is being held by a sobbing woman with the number nineteen marring her face. She pleads for the man to unhand him, but he refuses. The grey coats pull them apart cruelly.

They toss the woman aside as they gather the three-chosen omega’s and lead them away. The boy sobbing for the girl who he was torn away from him the whole way there.

Yoongi feels the two omegas gravitate towards him. Both of them seem to be looking for comfort in the older omega’s presence after they’re dumped unceremoniously into the seats of a limousine. They unconsciously push into his sides as Yoongi attempts his hand at the whole calming pheromones thing. He deduces that he must not be very good at it when the last boy who was selected continued to sob hopelessly as the gas starts to set out throughout the vehicle. He banged against the tinted window, but his small hands bounce harmlessly off the bullet proof glass. His face twists into pain as he continues to bang futilely, but he finds himself unable to stop his hands until Yoongi tugs them away and entraps them in his own.

The limousine won’t move until they’re unconscious. It’s how they ensure that the three of them won’t be able to find their way back home. They would all have to wait until the gas takes control of their bodies before they can figure out what awaits them at their destination.

“Where are they taking them,” the crying boy bellows. His heart must be rubbed raw by the look of sorrow that has disfigured his soft face. He looks like a young pup who has been ripped away from his mother at too young of an age. Much too young to fight and provide for himself.

Yoongi caresses the younger’s hand, eyeing the eighteen under the boy’s eye. Yoongi wills something to come out of his mouth to comfort the boy, but the youngest of the three beats him to it.

“You’re not the only one who feels pain, stop crying.” The words are cruel but the youngest still takes the boy’s other hand. He smoothed his fingers around the other’s palm until the boy’s sobs turn into sniffles.

After a long moment, both of the boys succumb to the gas, leaving a disoriented Yoongi behind. He really wished he had fallen asleep with them. Maybe then, he could have missed the instance of the young women, who had clutched the crying boy, throwing herself at their window.

The girl banged against the car door as she struggled against it, trying in vain to open it. Her mouth opened and closed around a name. It sounded like Jimin. She was screaming for Jimin.

She kept screaming for the boy who was unware of the world, as he was locked into a dreamless sleep.

She screamed until men in grey coats appeared with a gun in hand.

A loud shot sounded off, before her head slid down the glass window. Blood washing away where her tears had been.

Chapter Text

Yoongi feels something wet drip on his face, making a gasp escape from his chapped lips. His body shivers but his hands and legs refuse to move. It's like he's frozen. Yoongi wonders if this is how it feels to be alive in a dead man's body.

"Oh, you're finally awake, huh?" A man with bright eyes and large hands moves to tilt the other boy's head forward. It lolled around in his hands, as dull brown eyes stared at him with little comprehension. The Bright-eyed man's mouth tightened in worry. Was this boy going to be okay, he wonders? The man continues to prod at the blonde-haired boy's face, trying to gain another reaction.

"I don't understand why they feel the need to use gas strong enough to anesthetize cows. This boy can't be but a hundred pounds. No wonder he's been sleeping for two days," He murmurs. His hands smoothing over soft skin slowly, scared of injuring this frail creature lying helplessly on the bed before him.

After several seconds, another gasped managed to escape the boy's mouth and his eyes fluttered, fighting to stay open. His hands reached out for something, pulling the boy hovering over him near.

Near enough to bite.

"Ah!" The bright-eyed man quickly retracted his arm from the others mouth. Surprised by how quickly blood had drawn to the surface, he began fanning the hand around pointlessly. Maybe this person wasn't as frail as he thought. "That doesn't seem like a very traditional hello. Did I scare you? I'm sorry, please don't be scared. My name is Taehyung, I'm here to help you."

The other boy watched with distrust in his eyes. As he slowly gained power over his body, the boy began to push himself up against the wall, desperate for some control over his situation. Hysteria begins to stir throughout his body. He bared his teeth as a warning, and pushed the comforter off his waist until it bunched up at his feet like a makeshift barrier.

For a long while the boys simply watch each other appraisingly. Yoongi briefly takes in the others features. He smells like a beta, with a wet, plain fragrance that lacks any impact, but he has the appearance of an omega. His face is soft and beautifully symmetric, like a carefully crafted doll. He catalogs this information quickly, and determines that the other might succeed in detaining them if need be. So, he waits.

"You don't need to be so afraid, Yoongi," Taehyung whispers. He slowly moves towards the other boy, reaching his uninjured arm out slowly, as if he was approaching a wounded animal. A smarter man would have known to keep his distance, but Taehyung was desperate to show this scared creature kindness.

"How do you know my name," Yoongi demands. "No, never mind that, you said something about a gas. What kind did they use?"

Taehyung looks puzzled by Yoongi's line of questioning. "Are they really all that different? It's the same kind they use on every awakening." The other frowns at Taehyung in disbelief. "What's with that look? Why would I need to know that? I'm just here to watch over you." Taehyung carefully continues to approach him, moving like a man on a tight rope. One wrong move and this cute, small man will take another bite out of his forearm.

"Liar," Yoongi snaps his head away from Taehyung's oncoming touch. A primal growl resonating in his throat. "You said something about cows. You said it was used to put them to sleep."

Taehyung nods in acknowledgement as he moves his hand back to his side and plops down on the bed in temporary defeat. "I thought you wouldn't be able to hear that, you looked half dead after all. Why does it matter, Yoongi?"

Yoongi consider this carefully, before looking at him seriously, a heavy answer itching to escape his lips. "There was a scandal in my village. Omegas would wake up to find their legs and sheets covered in blood and semen. They remembered nothing but a vague shadow hovering over them during the previous night." Yoongi began to grind his teeth, seething in hatred. "The girl who lived across from me had ran to me with pain drenched in her eyes. Her parents had vanquished her. They said the devil had taken her and that she was soiled and used. She died before the virus could even reach her."

Taehyung looked affronted, horror melted his eyes and blurred his vision. His injured arm laid forgotten by his side as he looked captivated by Yoongi's words. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Obviously it wasn't the devil creating havoc. At this point, the devil should have retired ages ago, it was a gas. Alphas, and even putty nosed betas like yourself, were drugging omegas with sleeping gas and leaving them clueless and aching when they found consciousness." Yoongi reached out a finger accusingly," you ask why I'd want to know what I was drugged with? I need to know the side effects. I need to know if I'll remember how I got here. I need to know everything if I want to find home."

 

"If you want to know something then all you have to do is ask, Yoongi." Taehyung gestured to himself softly. His eyes are sad. Why are they sad?

'You're not the only one who feels pain,' echoes in Yoongi's mind. But where has he heard that from before?

"You mean you? The liar? Do me a favor, Mr. liar, tell me why I'm here," Yoongi eyed the man but felt his bitterness lessen. Despite his harsh words, he knew this man wasn't the reason he was here. He could feel it; this boy didn't want to be here anymore than he did.

"I'm your domestic, and I'm here to get you ready for your wedding." Taehyung finally gathers the courage to reach out and grab Yoongi's hand in his, smiling when the other doesn't put up a fight. "And, you're Min Yoongi, the eldest of the heir's new wives."

Yoongi considers this information, he remains surprisingly calm at this news, as something flickers in his memory. He pictures himself in a vehicle, two bodies beside him. Their hands are intertwined. Another flash of something clicks into place, he sees a young woman throwing herself at a window. The name Jimin keeps throwing itself out of her lips.

"Jimin. There was a boy named Jimin. And another one. Where are they?" Yoongi feels a frantic feeling swell up. He wasn't alone. They had been there too. He felt their hands in his and it gave him strength, he needs that strength.

A light goes off in Taehyung's eyes, "Oh! You must be referring to the other wives. As far as I know, they woke up a couple of hours ago. They should probably be getting ready for the wedding." Taehyung pauses for a second before nodding, "I remember another domestic mentioning Jimin. She said the poor dear hadn't stopped crying for ages after waking."

Yoongi snatches his hand back from Taehyung, scrambling to move towards the door. The other needs him, he needs comfort. He needs support from one of the few people in the same situation as himself.

"Wait! Yoongi, please don't be worried! That was hours ago. I'm sure Jimin is just fine now," Taehyung is quick to assure him. He moves to catch Yoongi before he slips out of the door but falls short as the shorter man runs down the hall.

Yoongi moves swiftly through the corridor, refusing to stop until he slips past several halls. He listened for footsteps before moving slowly pass each room. His eyes sweep over the cracks by the doors, looking for lights or noise. It doesn't take him long before he comes across a cracked door that has laughter resonating out into the open.

Yoongi hesitates. He then steals a quick breath before moving to peer into the crack.

Inside the room he sees the boy from his flashback, but his eyes are squinted like crescents moons as laughter bubbles out of him. It's Jimin, but he's definitely not crying.

Confusion and betrayal swirls around him because inside that room, bent over that small boy with plump lips, is a man with an awkward smile and long limbs. The same man that kidnapped him and took them from their homes.

How could Jimin be in his presence so easily? Where are his tears? Does his sister calling his name till blood paints the glass window of the limousine they were taken in mean nothing?

Yoongi startles when he feels someone grasp his wrist. He moves to hit them with his free hand, but it's just as easily caught. He's thankful for that when he realizes it's Taehyung, who quietly steers them back to their room.

When they arrive, Taehyung looks at him carefully, feeling how overwhelmed the omega is. In vain, he tries to ease the tension. "Yoongi-ah, I know it must seem very confusing, but you must remember that it's not all bad here. Your mate is a very nice man. I'm sure you'll like him when you meet him too."

Yoongi says nothing. Shock still racking his body as Jimin's laugh rings through his head. Is someone really feeling the same fear he is? Or is he truly alone?

"We only have a couple hours before your mating ceremony, we should get you ready." Taehyung hides his concern by turning his back to Yoongi as he hunts for something.

Yoongi nods his head in consent, but it's missed completely by Taehyung. "I think I'm long overdue for a shower," he mutters, wiping at his face, his hand coming back smeared by day old marker. "But first, let me help you with your hand. You were bleeding, weren't you?"

Taehyung turns around with an assortment of creams in his arms. His eyes widened in surprise when he looked down and noticed dried blood marking his tan skin.

He smiles in acceptance and allows for Yoongi to play doctor, as he washes the cut and sanitizes the bite with rubbing alcohol Taehyung had helped him discover behind a bathroom mirror.

Taehyung smiles, thinking that Yoongi is warming up to him.

Yoongi hums, wondering how he can use Taehyung to get out of here.

Chapter Text

Taehyung forgo the idea of a shower in favor of dumping water cold enough to induce hypothermia onto Yoongi’s head.

Yoongi was forced to sit there patiently, as he shivered in the attached bathroom’s porcelain claw footed tub, feeling absolutely cheated. What was the point of being kidnapped and gifted to be some wealthy bastard’s wife number tres if he couldn’t even enjoy warm water?

He decided to voice his complaints. “Taehyung, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be hard to marry me off if I’m a human ice cube.” Yoongi feels his body rack with another round of cold jitters as Taehyung dumps another pitcher full of water on his scalp. The water from his hair continues to drip down his face and he feels his teeth begin to chatter. “Seriously, at this rate when he goes in for a kiss, his tongue is going to be stuck to the surface of my face popsicle.”

Taehyung hums before dumping another wave of water down Yoongi’s spine. “Isn’t the phrase ‘face popsicle’ kind of erotic?” Taehyung laughs as Yoongi replies a quick ‘hell no’ in response. “Besides, it’s very unlikely that their will be any tongue in the wedding kiss? That’s a little scandalous, no?”

Yoongi, the current drowning rat, looks at Taehyung as if he just proposed the sky was a very lovely red today. “Kidnapping people is okay, but a French kiss at a wedding is the scandal of the century? Rich people are confusing.”

Taehyung begins to massage a neutral scented shampoo into Yoongi’s scalp, smiling softly at how Yoongi leans into his touches. “Tell me about it. Also, about the cold water, I promise it’s just for today. It’s tradition that omegas go into their weddings smelling as much as their natural scent much as possible and warm water seems better at concealing natural smells than embracing them.”

“So, what you mean to say is that you’re still bitter that I bit you, and that this is your passive aggressive way of getting back at me?” Yoongi turns his head up towards Taehyung, his eyebrows raised expectantly, and a loose unconcerned smile hung from his lips.

Instead of replying, Taehyung quickly submerged Yoongi in another pitcher of water.

A gasp sounded off before Yoongi reached out and pulled Taehyung into the freezing water. Splashing frantically at the beta who struggled to get his bearings.

A giggle escaped their lips as they both ended up in a splashing contest. It went on for a while until Taehyung yielded after Yoongi had plunged his head completely under the water level.

Yoongi had opened his eyes slowly, scared of a betrayal splash being thrown in his face when he lets his guard down. Instead, he’s surprised to be met with Taehyung smiling at him so unabashedly.

His clothes stick to his body nicely and show soft but firm muscles. His eyes gleam as waterdrops try to hang on to the edge of his eyelashes, and even as he shakes his head like a dog and whips water in Yoongi’s face, he still looks completely breathtaking. Yoongi can’t help but think, ‘is this man really a beta?’

Yoongi hasn’t know many betas, or many people outside of his family, but from the limited knowledge that he has gathered, he had concluded betas are well-known for being the picture of average. Their features are usually plain and underwhelming, even their personalities seem limp and dead.

Yet, here Taehyung was, changing Yoongi’s opinions on beta stereotypes in a matter of hours. It was only a moment ago he had been keen on taking a lump out of the man’s arm, and now Yoongi was willing to play around him with Taehyung, splashing in the bathtub as if they were children.

Taehyung gave Yoongi a questioning look, as the older continued to gaze helplessly at him. “Ah, hyung, we should probably continue to get you ready if we’re going to make it to your ceremony in a few hours.”

Flustered, Yoongi nods and gets out of the tub. He allows for Taehyung to gift him with a towel to wrap his shivering body in and sits in a seat that Taehyung vaguely gestures towards. “What’s left to do? I’m bathed. That means clothes and done, right?”

Taehyung clucks his tongue at him like a scolding mother hen. “You have so much to learn, young one. One does not simply just adorn clothes and skedaddle on their wedding day, or any day when living in a mansion.”

“Oh? Tell me then, what does one do to get ready in a mansion, oh great source of fashion knowledge?”

Taehyung clears his throat and prepares a bag full of brushes and powders. He swirls his fingers in the bag before pulling out something that looks like a black pen. “First,” he states, waving the object around like a flag, “We put this bad boy to your eyes to define them and make them sharp.”

“You come at me with that and I swear I will lodge that into your neck,” Yoongi remarks, deadly serious. His eyes refused to leave the offending tool.

Taehyung pauses, considering something. “That would be a weird way to make a mating bond, huh? Everyone would just gather around to watch couples stab makeup utensils in their scent glands. At the ceremony we could all place bets to guess which type of makeup they’ll use, or.. oh! We can bet on whether or not they’ll have like makeup stuck in where their bond mark is. And every time a married couple gets in a fight we can be like, don’t make me get the make up so you guys can make up again.”

Yoongi stops looking at the eyeliner to give Taehyung a look of concern. “Are you okay? I mean like, mentally, is your brain doing alright?”

Taehyung waves away his concern as if he has to do it all the time, “Anyways, we can forget about the eyeliner for now, because we really need to focus on drying your hair. Looking like soggy cornbread isn’t going to do much to help you become your husband’s favorite.”

Taehyung pulls out a hair dryer as Yoongi turns over the phrase ‘soggy cornbread’ with a mixture of disgust and wonder in his eyes. As the dryer snaps on and starts blowing loudly at his matted hair, Yoongi finally comprehended a reaction to the last component of Taehyung’s statement.

“What makes you think I want to be his favorite? He kidnapped us after all. He should be working overtime to impress all three of us if anything.”

Taehyung screams much louder than he needs to, to be heard over the hairdryer, “I Know this is a huge change and all, but you have to give Namjoon a chance. Knowing him, he’ll do whatever it takes to get you guys to like him. Rejecting Namjoon is like rejecting a puppy. A giant, gangly awkward sized puppy. It’s just cruel.” Yoongi snorts in response as Taehyung finishes blowing the last of his ends. “Besides, you started liking me after you gave me a chance.”

“That’s debatable.”

Taehyung blows hot air in his face as Yoongi swats him in retaliation. Finally finished drying, Taehyung takes a brush to help Straighten out Yoongi’s hair, humming as he worked quickly.

When Taehyung brought out the makeup bag, Yoongi promised to not stab him too harshly if they eyeliner went anywhere inside his eye. They entire trial and error process of it took nearly an hour, every time Taehyung brought the pen to his eyes, Yoongi would begin to blink frantically and mess it up.

“Yoongi-ah, let’s come to a compromise. Instead of eyeliner we just do very dramatic eyelashes. Sound good?” Taehyung phrases it like a choice, but he’s already putting away the eyeliner, so he can bring out huge eyelashes.

“Those things look lethal.”

“That’s what we’re going for, we want everyone who looks in your eyes to feel as if they’re trapped in a siren song by the intensity of your eyelash game.” He pops them out of the package and lines them up and cuts them to shape, “Ok, so just shut up and don’t move while I do this, hyung.”

Taehyung proceeds to use lots of black glue to put those suckers in place and refuses to let Yoongi look at his reflection until he finishes with the rest of his makeup.

It isn’t till Yoongi is so caked with makeup that he fears he has been turned into a Geisha, that Taehyung moves to turn him back towards the mirror.

“Presenting the world pleasing image of Yoongi in makeup, is the wish granting genie, Taehyung!” Taehyung twirls Yoongi’s chair around in multiple circles with such an intense flourish that Yoongi almost heaves, but by now he has learned that dealing with Taehyung somehow always puts him at risk for danger.

“Taehyung, I can hardly look at myself if you keep spinning me around like a human dreidel,” Yoongi grits out. He dug his nails into the seat handle to try and find something to stable himself.

Taehyung stops moving Yoongi in circles, but his entire body is vibrating with excitement,” I didn’t know you were Jewish, Hyung! Do you get to wear those cool hats?”

“No, Taehyung, I’m not Jewish and I’m pretty sure you can’t as- holy shit,” Yoongi cuts himself when his eyes catch sight of himself in the mirror.

He was unrecognizable. The lashes largely defined his face and made it hard to look away from his eyes. His lips and cheeks were painted brightly to contrast the dark shadows around his eyes, bringing a large amount of color to his pale complexion. His overall appearance will be best described as hauntingly beautiful, and Yoongi felt even more conflicted the longer he held this person’s gaze in the mirror. Is this how he will be presented during his entire stay at the mansion?

“If perfect, right?” Taehyung sighs dreamily, snapping Yoongi out of his musing. “I think it’s my best work, like, ever. What do you think?” His smile turning to pierce through Yoongi directly, instead of just looking at each other through the reflection of the mirror.

“It’s… definitely something.” Yoongi swallows the lump in his throat as he turns away as soon as Taehyung’s smile begins to dip downwards. “let’s move on to the next part, yah?”

Taehyung nods and begins to throw the makeup back in a bag haphazardly. Before moving to pull gingerly on Yoongi’s arm. “So, the next part might,” he pauses, “well, let’s just say that this probably won’t be something you like.”

Yoongi shoots him a puzzled glance before he’s led back into his bedroom, where a huge, white, atrocity stood in the center of room.

“Taehyung, what is this?”

Taehyung sends a troubled smile at the floor before rubbing his neck awkwardly. “When in weddings, it’s tradition for the bride to, you know,” he gestures helplessly to the puffy dress standing before them. Taehyung’s motions begin to become increasingly erratic, as Yoongi just continued to look at him blankly.

Taking in a deep breath of air that made his body shutter upon releasing it, Taehyung quickly squeaked out, “You have to wear that for the wedding.”

Yoongi’s eyes darkened slightly, but he simply replied, “oh, is that all?”

Taehyung opened one eye, not even realizing he had clinched both of them shut in preparing for Yoongi to take another bite out of his arm. “You’re okay with this?” Taehyung exclaimed, both eyes opened wide in surprise.

“Not really, to be frank, when I first stepped out here I wanted to throw this thing out of a window and the person who made it but, it’s not all bad.” Yoongi ran his hand through his carefully placed bangs and Taehyung died a little bit inside. It had taken him ten minutes to get them to settle like that. “Whoever made this clearly worked very hard on it,” Yoongi acknowledged, admiring the beaded detailing intricating a nonsensical but extremely whimsical pattern.

“Well, I’m very glad you decided not to throw the dress I made and me out of a window.” Taehyung still looked slightly uncomfortable, his eyes lingering on something placed on the bed and Yoongi hesitantly allowed his eyes to look in the same direction.

Yoongi let out a sharp gasp as his eyes saw the pink lace undies lying on the bed. His mind began to shut down as he walked towards it robotically. “Taehyung, I’m going to give you fifteen seconds to run.”

“Yoongi, it, it’s just a tradition! The other brides have to wear the same thing so-“ Taehyung’s back hits the wall as Yoongi approaches him menacingly, waving around the offending piece of lace trapped in his grasp.

“I let you pour icy water on me, paint my face and style my hair. Hell, I was even going to let you stuff me in a wedding dress! But, these things will not be going anywhere near my-“

The door to the room creaks open and in his haste to turn around, the pair of panties Yoongi was flailing around slipped from his grasp and landed on the face of the person entering the room.

An awkward silence filled the room before the intruder smiled, and moved to remove the lace from where it covered most of his forehead and of his eyes.

“I’ve heard of people being panty droppers, but this is ridiculous,” the stranger cackled through a heart shaped smile.

Chapter Text

With earnest eyes staring so openly at him, Yoongi felt himself freeze.

Another deathly gorgeous man has arrived and his first glace of Yoongi will be of him threatening his domestic while he’s dressed only in a towel. At least things could only go up from here.

Yoongi quickly moved to remove the string fabric thing from the stranger’s hand, and in his haste his towel slipped down his waist. Turns out Yoongi was wrong, things were going so down hill they had to travel to hell for a pit stop before going even further down.

Taehyung gasps indignantly at the intruder, and rushes to cover the man’s eyes. Taehyung begins to tut at the stranger while Yoongi reties the towel around his waist tightly. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck for an alpha to see the bride before the wedding? Jeez, and to think you’d get to see Yoongi naked before his husband! I wonder what Namjoon would think of that, hmm?”

The stranger hums thoughtfully, “He’d probably say something deep and philosophical about the situation and when he finally faces the subject he’d end up ignoring me for, like, a week and half.” He gently removes Taehyung’s hands from his eyes and pokes the younger’s puffed out cheeks as an apology. “And superstitions in themselves are bad luck so let’s just gloss over that, okay?”

Taehyung releases the air in his cheeks after the stranger’s consistent prodding. He nods and turns back to Yoongi who’s been watching them with his hands holding onto the towel around his waist protectively. “Yoongi, this one is named Hoseok, he’s a servant here, and he’s one of the three Alphas you’ll meet who live in this mansion.”

Yoongi squints at the man who's still holding onto the panties he’s supposed to wear for the wedding. An Alpha servant? Potentially the only Alpha servant? Most Alphas detest their omegas coming into contact with any Alphas outside their family. Red flags signaled in the back of his mind but Yoongi decided to put that matter on hold. “That still doesn’t explain what he’s doing in my room while I’m getting dressed.”

“I came to bring you food,” the Alpha smiled. He juts a thumb at Taehyung,” I figured this one would forget about you needing to eat in his hurry to doll you up.” He holds up Yoongi’s panties as if they were a peace offering, “Here, you’re going to need these.”

Yoongi resentfully snatches the panties away from Hoseok, his eyes still narrowed at Hoseok in distrust as he registers the man’s now vacant hands. “Where’s the food then?”

Hoseok tilts his head in confusion before looking down, “what do you mean, it’s right he- Fuck!”

Taehyung gasps and belatedly moves to cover Yoongi’s ears this time. It’s ineffective. Yoongi still hears Hoseok when Hoseok shakes his head and mutters something about how he’s going to end up starving all of Namjoon’s brides if he doesn’t get his shit together.

Taehyung lets his hands drop from Yoongi’s ears, so he can grab Yoongi’s arm and swing them playfully. “Don’t worry too much about it Hobi, they’re going to have food at the wedding. Yoongi can eat all he wants then. He seems like the type who would rather eat than socialize anyway.”

Yoongi wanted to disagree, but eating instead of trying to be polite to the people that kidnapped him sounded worlds better. How long has it even been before he’s last digested something? Days, his stomach groaned.

Hoseok nods in agreement, his heart shaped smile makes a reappearance. “Well, now that I’m here, I might as well help Yoongi finished getting prepared.” Hoseok rubs his hands together in anticipation. “We just gotta stuff him in the wedding gown at this point, right?”

One of Taehyung’s eyebrows twitched in annoyance. “When it comes to weddings, you should never ‘stuff’ a bride into a wedding gown. Honestly, does anyone know how much time goes into making these things look perfect?” Taehyung juts his hand in Yoongi’s direction and Yoongi can’t tell if ‘these things’ are in regard to wedding things or Yoongi and the other two brides. By the way Taehyung angrily side eyes him every time he runs his hand through his hair, he reckons it’s the latter.

“Well whatever we have left to do, we need to do it quickly. The wedding ceremony is supposed to start in an hour.” Hoseok leans against a dresser as he looks at Taehyung expectantly.

Taehyung’s eyes snap open wide in horror as he turns to throttle the small man’s shoulder. “Okay, we can do this Yoongi.” Taehyung mutters a ‘we can’t do this’ but stops after receiving a questioning look from Yoongi. “No no, I’ll believe in us. We can do this. Under one condition. I can’t handle anymore bullshit from you, Yoongi.” Yoongi opens his mouth to protest but Taehyung hastily shushes him. “I mean it, Yoongi. I need you to be a big boy and put your panties on and step into your wedding dress.”

Yoongi looks between Taehyung and the decorative cloth in disbelief, and goes to complain when the beta swats at his behind.

“Ow ow ow, okay, I get it. Stop hitting me and I’ll put on your damn fancy piece of dental floss.” Yoongi gives them an annoyed look and moves to drop his towel until he notices the other two still starring at him.

“Do you guys mind?” Yoongi looks at them exasperated. They both shot back puzzled looks and Yoongi groans, “can you guys at least fucking turn around?”

This time Taehyung sends him a look of disbelief, “both of us have already seen you naked. What do you have left to hide?” Yoongi doesn’t let up though, so the two find themselves turning to face the wall. Neither one moving until Yoongi gives the all clear notion.

“Okay, I guess this is where you two knuckle heads come in to assist me,” Yoongi replies from inside the wedding gown. He clutches where the zipper gapes open in the back and ushers for one of their assistance.

Hoseok moves to gently place a hand on Yoongi’s pale shoulder and tugs the zipper until it reaches his mid back where there’s no where left for it to go. “Woah, that’s a lot of back action going on.”

Taehyung moves to the front of Yoongi to tug everything in place. “More skin equals more win,” Taehyung mutters, distracted. “It’s my job as Yoongi’s domestic to give him every advantage possible to win over his new husband. So Yoongi’s going to be the hottest piece of ass to ever walk down the aisle.”

“Does Yoongi get a say in how much skin he gets to show,” Yoongi questions.

Taehyung ignores him in favor of dealing with the part of the underskirt that rumples the dress awkwardly. “This isn’t working, I’m going under.”

Before Yoongi could question what he had meant, Taehyung had flipped the front of Yoongi’s wedding gown to slip inside it.

Yoongi sputtered in shock when he felt the younger brush against his crotch as he tugged at the underside of the ruffles of his gown. Before Yoongi could attack, the younger had already reemerged from the chasm that is his wedding dress.

Taehyung smiles in approval when the dress finally looks perfect, and Yoongi struggles to keep from lashing out. “You think you could give me some warning before you decide to go exploring under this thing next time?”

Taehyung shakes his head dismissively, “You wouldn’t have given me approval. Besides, your dress is perfect now, so we can move on.” Taehyung looks past Yoongi to stare quizzically at a silent Hoseok. “It also means Hoseok can stop awkwardly holding onto your shoulder and staring at your back.”

Yoongi turns on Hoseok to see the male taking a few steps back with his hands in the air in surrender. “Hey, it’s not every day you see a tiny cute male omega rocking a bridal gown in the Kim Mansion. I mean, look at how it wraps just right around his waist, how am I not going to stare? Besides, it’s been years since I’ve seen an omega besides Jin. What’s a man supposed to do?”

Yoongi ignores most of what Hoseok said automatically, but the mention of an omega named Jin has his head cocking to the side in curiosity. “Who’s Jin?”

“Ah, he’s…” Hoseok cuts himself off when he notices Taehyung trying to blink a warning to Hoseok in Morse code. But Neither of them actually know Morse code so Hoseok assumes Taehyung is having a stroke. “Are you doing okay over there?”

“Doing just fine over here,” Taehyung replies through clenched teeth. His eyes still fluttering on overtime as he moves to change the subject. “Okay, let’s wrap this up and get you with the other brides before we run out of time.” Taehyung shuffles into a closet and comes back with flats and a veil.

Taehyung throws the flats in front of Yoongi with zero restraint. “Nobody is going to be able to see your feet, so you might as well just stuff your feet in these things. And I’m just going to stick this veil into your hair since you already messed it up, despite how much time I’ve worked on it. If anyone asks, you’re going to blame humidity. “

Hoseok raises his hand and waits for Taehyung to acknowledge him before smugly remarking,” I thought we don’t ‘stuff’ the bride into anything?”

Taehyung blinks owlishly at him for a long moment. “I’m about to stuff you into a body bag if you don’t get out of here and tell them Yoongi is on his way.” Hoseok laughs but Taehyung stares at him deadly serious, “I mean it. You better go or,” Taehyung drags his thumb across his throat in a ‘you’re dead’ motion.

Hoseok finally gets the message and hurries out.

Taehyung takes Yoongi’s hand and begins to pull him along afterwards. Yoongi nearly topples over the extra weight the train adds and forces Taehyung to slow his roll.

“I know we’re almost late, but there is not way I can hustle my way over there with this thing weighing me down. Slow down,” Yoongi urges. Chastising Taehyung lightly as he lets Taehyung lead him.

“Sorry, Hyung. This just needs to go well. I don’t want you or anyone else to get in trouble because we were fooling around too long. Besides, you’re already going to be in for surprise and I don’t need you freaking out.”

“Taehyung, what do you mean by that?” Yoongi looks at him with worry but Taehyung expertly dodges his gaze and starts picking up speed again. Making it hard for Yoongi to focus on anything but tripping.

“Don’t worry too much about it. Anyway, when we get you to the room it’s just going to be you and the other two brides. Someone will come to get you guys in a couple of minutes when the ceremony starts. The key thing to remember is that the ritual goes in order of youngest to oldest. So make sure to use that time to brace yourself, because after the ‘I Do’s’ will come the bonding part. You got it?”

Yoongi shakes his head but continues to try and match Taehyung’s pace. He finds himself almost jogging to keep up, making him exhausted. He didn’t realize how much exercise went into getting married. This whole day just keeps getting worst and worst. “That’s a lot of things to take in at once, can you repea-“

“I’m glad you got it, because we’re here,” Taehyung huffs out, leaning against the wall besides the door. “Okay, this is where we part ways. Someone will lead you back to your room when it’s over and I’ll visit you in the morning, so don’t miss me too much.” Taehyung turns to leave, but stops himself when he sees Yoongi’s face fall.

“Hey Yoongi, it’s going to be okay,” Taehyung gently squeezes Yoongi’s shoulder. “You’re going to go out there, and be beautiful, and then tomorrow you get to tell me all about how you made everybody’s jaw drop to the floor.” Taehyung then boops Yoongi on the nose and leaves before he spends the rest of the day trying to convince Yoongi he’d be alright.

Yoongi watches after him with a small smile before breathing deeply and opening the door inside to be greeted by the sight of two other omegas.

Yoongi can’t help but to think that the omegas he came with looked absolutely stunning. Their dark hair and lithe figures made them a sight to behold. They both had cute squishy cheeks and brightly colored lips that Yoongi found adorable. Honestly, Yoongi could have spent days talking about how cute his two…what where they? Sister wives? Brother husbands? He’d figure that out later. Long story short, they looked incredible.

But what Yoongi really wanted to talk about, was why these two were wearing tuxedos.

Chapter Text

The youngest one’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he caught sight of Yoongi. “Hyung, what are you wearing?”

Yoongi feels himself begin to wilt under the stares of his peers, making him fall apart as if he was a rose being doused in salty ocean water.

Yoongi wants to cover himself, painfully embarrassed. He doesn’t see how he can manage to hide the huge mass of his dress with his hands, so he decides to take this with grace. Yoongi stands up straight, a need for retribution swirling around in the outskirts of the lacy layers puffing out around his hips. “Advert your eyes, the outfits not complete. I’m missing Taehyung’s skull.”

Yoongi can feel a newfound need to kill stirring in his body. A vengeance so great will be had upon this world if Yoongi survives this wedding, he swears by it.

The boy blinks hard at the mention of Taehyung’s name. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Forget the dress, we’re about to be married and I don’t even know your name.” Yoongi holds off on his own introduction as he waits to see what the youngest will do.

The boy blinks hard again, (Yoongi wonders if he has bad eyesight) and looks at his own hand quizzically. The boy cautiously lifts it towards Yoongi in an attempt to initiate a handshake, “I’m Jungkook.”

Yoongi grimaces when he shakes the boy’s hand. They were smooth against where Yoongi’s hands were rough. Yoongi had to force himself to not take the ring that rested on the boy’s ring finger. Old habits die hard after all.

Jimin, not knowing he was already know, introduced himself next. “It’s nice to formally meet you guys. My name is Jimin, and I’m absolutely certain we’re going to be as thick as thieves!”

If only he knew.

With the attention back on him, Yoongi thought about lying, a part of him wanting to keep his name a secret. But what would hiding a name get him? He needs allies. He gestures towards himself vaguely.

“Yoongi.”

It was a start.

The room filled with an awkward pause. Nobody was really sure where to go from there. What were they supposed to make of each other? They were all kidnapped and forced to be here against their will, but that didn’t make them friends. None of them had even bothered to utter their last name, because in a matter of hours, it wouldn’t even matter anymore.

They were all going to be losing a part of themselves soon, and who here was really brave enough to interrupt their last minutes of silence before they sacrifice their family’s name?

Jimin was.

“You look beautiful! Almost as if you were born to be a bride,” the crescent eyed boy beamed. “This is almost like a dream come true, right? I’ve never seen so many colors in one room before, it’s breathtaking.” The boy continues to go on a word spew of everything he just absolutely adores about this mansion and how he can’t wait to be married.

He really made Yoongi question why he was the one wearing the dress. After all, this kid was acting as if he was Cinderella, and the day that he was thrown into a van and taken from his family was actually the day his fairy godmother showed up and made all of his dreams come true.

Yoongi’s eyes sunk to the floor and zeroed in on the other boys’ polished shoes. What was he supposed to say to that? ‘Thanks? Oh, and by the way, while you were sleeping I saw your sister die.’

Yoongi might not have been around many people before but he knows some things about having tact. So, instead, he just blurted out, “You guys better be wearing this butt dental floss too.”

Another pause.

Yoongi took comfort in the fact that Jimin had stopped talking. But then he felt his annoyance turn on himself. Jimin seems sweet and doesn’t seem like what’s about to happen tonight might lead to a mental regression. If anything, Yoongi is jealous that he can’t seem to find comfort in something.

“Why would we do that?” Jungkook asks.

This kid seems brutal in an almost accidental way. Yoongi kind of likes it. But Yoongi definitely hates that his own domestic might actually be trying to embarrass him. He shifts ever so slightly, and he can feel the fabric rub unpleasantly against him. Hinting at a possible rash later on.

“Um, Should I be?” Jimin looks at him with apologetic eyes. His mouth preparing to quiver out something like an apology.

Yoongi thinks these two kids are adorable. And he hates that, because he knows he shouldn’t be thinking of them as children. At this point, they’re his equals. All three of them could end up expecting in a matter of months.

It’s crazy to consider these chubby faced babies as anything other than children. Children having children. Nothing good can come from this. Maybe it really is just time to let the world die.

There’s a knock on a door, and a girl with a bow shaped upper lip and freckles appeared through the entrance. She’s young. Painfully so. But a toddler still pulls on her ear as she shifts her hips side from side in an attempt to make the baby smile.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but the ceremony is about to begin, and I’ve been instructed to inform all of you on the proper procedure you’re expected to follow,” speaks the girl. Her voice is louder than Yoongi expects and it makes her seem the slightest bit older.

Jimin coos at the toddler and the girl smiles at him.

She shifts her weight again, pressing the toddler against her chest as he grips at the back of her shirt and hides his face. “Please excuse the little one, he has a hard time being alone and his usual caretaker is absent for the time being.” The baby grumbles something in agreement and Yoongi can feel a smile of his own creeping up on his painted lips.

“Of course it’s fine, he’s a cutie,” Jimin beams.

His eyes are alight in adoration, but Yoongi catches the way Jimin’s hands ball into fists by his side. But then he blinks and Jimin’s hands are just smoothing out his pants. Maybe he needs to stop reading into everything.

Jungkook is disinterested. He picks at his clothes and bites his lip.

The girl decides to continue when no one outright disapproves. “When the music outside begins, you will proceed to march out youngest from oldest. The coronation will begin almost immediately. Following it will by your public bonding ceremony.” She pauses to shift the baby. “I’ve been told to tell you that obedience is the theme for tonight. As long as everybody behaves and does what they’re told, everything should run smoothly.”

Yoongi’s lips curl in annoyance but he just nods at that girl as she wordlessly ushers for them to get in order, and props the door open. Waiting for the signal. When the strange music drifts in, she motions for them to go on.

 

As They make their way down the corridor, Yoongi throws one more look behind him and catches a gasp in his throat.

With the girl’s back to the door, Yoongi was able to get a better view of the child in her arms. His eyes sadden, heavy with pity as he sees half of the toddler’s face disfigured and morphed down with harsh lines. The baby’s eyes drooped low and the number of scars on the left side of his face outweighed his unblemished skin.

Yoongi didn’t have a clue where this baby came from, but he knew immediately why he was being kept hidden in a back room, away from the judgmental gaze of guests. It made Yoongi’s heart break knowing this child would most likely grow up surrounded by bedroom walls and windows with the curtains always shut.

While the virus had been a huge blemish on the genetically modified vaccines to cure the world of diseases, what the first generation hated more than killing out their children, is their children and grandchildren that come out malformed.

The first generation only saw value in things that have worth. Children who can’t hold up in regard of their standards on looks and comprehension are swept away into rooms with doors that lock only from the outside.

Just like Yoongi’s door.

Yoongi’s steps are extra heavy as they follow a white carpet until it reaches outside into a wide garden filled with chairs and people.

His head is down and his bang weighs heavy over his eyes. His hands are free, but he feels like they should be shackled as the three of them shuffle to the wedding arch waiting for them at the end of the long carpet. It waits there for them ominously, like how gallows await prisoners on death row.

Yoongi’s dress trails behind him dutifully until they reach the man waiting for them. Namjoon’s dimple is overtaking the left half of his face when he smiles their way.

They end up side by side in front of a crowd, and Yoongi feels disembodied as he’s unable to so much as twitch his hand.

Yoongi doesn’t notice Jimin reaching out for him when their hands brush.

Jimin doesn’t notice that Yoongi isn’t rejecting him when he moves his hand away.

The sky if soft, and where there isn’t chairs full of people, there’s bushes full of roses surrounding them everywhere. Drowning out the smell of everything else.

A man in a long religious looking robe began the ceremony with the dreadful words that will begin their lifelong commitment. At least their commitment wouldn’t be very long, not with the timer sitting in their veins.

“We are gathered here today to join these four souls in this sacred union, which will bear the fruit of generations to come…”

Yoongi thinks his throat is going to close up, and the smell of roses is suffocating.

His mother had always liked the smell of roses, she used to keep a vase filled of roses on their dining room table. Her only complaint had been that they died so quickly, and they became scarce as the seasons grew shorter.

Yoongi had been devastated when he wasn’t able to find roses for her grave.

The priest’s voice ends where Namjoon’s begins.

“Jungkook Kim,” Namjoon declares, taking the ring Jungkook was wearing off, and replacing it with a more extravagant one. Jungkook’s jaw clenches as his eyes follow where Namjoon pockets the ring he had been wearing.

“My mate.” Namjoon’s hand brushes along Jungkook’s jaw, and then moves on to Jimin.

“Jimin Kim.” Namjoon places a ring onto Jimin’s bare ring finger and smiles. Jimin also has a pretty smile fixed into place when Namjoon follows it with, “My mate.” But Jimin is a pretty person, so maybe all of his smiles come out like that.

“Yoongi Kim.”

Yoongi is motionless. He’ll let this man call him what he wants. There is nothing truly binding in a name and a ring. As along as Yoongi can make it out of this mansion, it doesn’t matter what name gets tacked behind his.

“My mate,” Namjoon told him. And damn did Yoongi feel weird about someone actually giving him a ring intentionally.

The man in long white robes says, “What fate has brought together, let no man tear asunder. A ceremony of official bonding will now commence.”

Yoongi knew this was coming but he already felt himself ache. A marking bond is so much more permanent that the ring on his finger.

It feels wrong for this to be done publicly in front of so may people. Bonding is a timeless tradition of a promised eternal devotion between lovers. Not a publicity event between strangers for the eyes of strangers.

Namjoon is looking at him. He stares hard into Yoongi’s eyes as if he was searching for something important. But what could he possibly be hoping to find in the eyes of a stranger?

As Namjoon moves his mouth to the spot just beneath his ear, Yoongi pushes him away. He’s not letting this happen without some type of resistance.

“I refuse to be bonded without first having Namjoon prove himself in a mating run. You may think the three of us to be prizes,” Yoongi gestures to the omegas beside him, “but prizes are to be earned, not bought. A concept lost on the lot of you.”

The whole crowd is agasp as Jimin gives him an unsure look and tugs at the back part of his dress.

Yoongi pats his hand in reassurance, knowing that nothing will really come from this. He was just looking to borrow some time before the bonding became a reality. He wouldn’t have even bothered if had known how fast he’d get shut down.

A woman rises from the front of the crowd with a hand raised high above her head as if seeking deliverance. And like an arrow descending from god, she brings her hand down and across Yoongi’s face.

Yoongi swears he saw stars in the light of day as he remembers how he had slapped Namjoon the first time they had met. Karma must just be a huge bitch.

The woman glares down at him with watchful brown eyes as a crescent moon hides behind the grimace of her lips. She drawls herself upright as she grabs Yoongi’s face with nails so sharp they almost dig into his cheeks.

With venom in her voice she seethes,” Omegas are meant to be seen, not heard.” She lets go of him to turn towards the crowd, “The lot of you, he says? Gracious, what does a low bred omega know about the lot of us? Someone stuck in the mindset of such primal actions, deepens the understanding of the only thing an omega can efficiently produce: Offspring.”

Yep, Karma is definitely a bitch.

“Of course we can object to your request for a mating run. We’re far past those uncivilized days of shifting like beasts and chasing after things that smell good.”

Yoongi is tired of seething in silence. “You could have fooled me.”

Noona is raising her hand in the air again but Namjoon moves in front of her; there is something cold in his eyes.

In front of the crowd Namjoon tilts Yoongi’s head with one hand and traces up his neck with the other.

Yoongi’s heart is beating faster with every second Namjoon takes until Namjoon is gripping his neck back with both hands as his mouth clamps down right under his jaw and over the lower part of his cheek.

Yoongi feels himself go limp and even the smell of roses vanishes when he feels his system go haywire.

Seconds turn into minutes as Namjoon digs his teeth hard past his skin, and then sits there for a steady moment, like a dog carrying a rabbit in it’s mouth and waiting for its owner’s approval.

Yoongi barley notices when Namjoon lets him go, and he completely misses where Namjoon places Jimin’s mark.

It’s just through the corner of his eye that he catches Namjoon placing a loving kiss on the bond mark he placed on Jungkook’s wrist.

And just like that, it’s over. The crowd politely claps and begins to mingle as Jimin scurries to check on him.

Yoongi gifts him with a tight smile, and Jimin gives him a pretty one right back.

Namjoon looks abashed as he appraises all of us. A small smile overwhelms his face until it contorts into this goofy monstrosity. He looks like a dorky kid who got exactly what he wanted for Christmas.

Namjoon gestures to the woman whose hands had already been acquainted with Yoongi’s face. “I should introduce you to my mother, Je-“

“Names aren’t necessary. All of you are to call me Noona.” This woman uncoils like a snake as she pushes past her son to stand in front. Her gaze is cool and deadly and Yoongi swears he sees poison dripping from her fangs, sorry, canines.

Yoongi feels the younger ones begin to shrink behind him. Even Jungkook with his confident poise and built arms finds himself threatened by this woman. Something about her screams the power she has to overwhelm. She lacks any scent, but Yoongi speculates that she likes it like that way, so her prey doesn’t know she’s coming.

“I suppose all of you know why you’re here and the time limit you must overcome. I expect all of you to be expecting within the first year.” Her gaze slides over their bodies and faces quickly. She grimaces when she turns to address Yoongi. “If you ever act out like this again and try to embarrass my family, I will personally teach you how a proper omega should behave. With that said, I would like for you to get out of my sight.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to roughly grab a stunned Jimin’s hand. The youngest carefully weaves the two through the crowd until their presence is just a memory.

Yoongi keeps himself planted, locking eyes with this Noona. Another subtle act of rebellion. Surprisingly, she indulges in it, holding his gaze with searing resentment. Yoongi is surprised to find himself quickly itching to break contact, his eyes instead moving to lock with a startled Namjoon.

Namjoon opens and closes his mouth. Lost at his mother’s actions and confused on how he should try to fix it. But, thankfully, Yoongi was never one to look for a resolution, and decides to follow in his maknaes footsteps, and hide in the crowd.

 

Yoongi is left with a throbbing face and resentment over the fact that he ended up doing exactly what Taehyung had predicted. After losing sight of Jimin and Jungkook, Yoongi found himself alone, picking at fake looking food laid out delicately for the guests.

Yoongi could feel anxiety bubbling up as frustration whacked him upside the head. In the past twenty-four hours he has woken up from a drug induced sleep, turned into a fucking dress up doll, forcibly married to a stranger, and humiliated in front of hundreds of rich people who smelled surprisingly like apple pie covered in cheese. Yoongi honestly feels like he could overcome all of this if it wasn’t for the fact that not a single item on the trays were even close to being recognizable.

His bond mark throbbed painfully as he rubbed his legs together to try to combat the way his underwear chafed against his ass cheeks, and he let out a pitiful sigh. Yoongi felt like a fucking wreck and he just wanted to drown out his feelings with food and alcohol, but Yoongi stared on with tears of anger threatening to trickle down his face as every morsel of food he comes across is shelled or harden and fake looking.

The only sliver lining is that the place was overflowing with liquor and Yoongi took the pretentious looking glass filled with amber liquid and prayed for the best. He took glasses with his head thrown back and allowed a laugh to trickle through his lips as he downed his fourth glass.

The drinks were bubbly and warm in a pleasant way. Nothing like what his brother would bring home. His brother always arrived with vodka, it made his stomach burn as if it were on fire and tasted like nail polish.

As Yoongi looked around he saw that nobody else had food except for the waiters who buzzed around the patio with bored looks plastered on their faces. Not a single thing looked taken from the waiters’ plates and Yoongi wondered if this was another rich people thing. Do rich people not eat in the company of others? Or is this a ritual to starve the new brides into submission?

Yoongi was ten seconds away from attacking someone until they gave him something edible when a waiter stopped and turned to him in surprised glee.

“Hey, Baby! How does it feel to be married now?” Hoseok beamed at him and set his tray of food onto the ground and kicked it underneath the table.

Yoongi whined in respond as he saw the food disappear out of sight. What’s with Hoseok never bringing him food?

Hoseok looked at him with confusion smeared on his features. It showed in the way he arches a brow and his heart shaped lips quirk up into a lopsided half smile. “Woah, if you were any happier I might have to give up my title as Earth’s second sun.”

Yoongi lulls his head to look at Hoseok with a glum expression. “That’s a self-proclaimed title, isn’t it?”

“You got me there.” Hoseok laughs lightly and gestures with his hand to a big tree out of the corner of his eye. “You want to get away from the crowd for a bit,” he offers and gently eases Yoongi’s lipstick smeared glass out of his glass and sets in on the table.

Hoseok is less of a stranger than everyone else mucking about with their empty champagne glasses and heat flushed faces, but Yoongi still hesitates. He’s only known this man for the hour or so, they spent together getting him ready. But looking at him now, under the lights, Hoseok’s lips moved to flash a smile so impossibly wide, and with the way the sun was beginning to set just behind his head, Yoongi felt a flash of panic. Because just for a second, he couldn’t tell who was the star in the sky and who was the boy offering him his hand.

Yoongi figured his hunger was really starting to get to him as he took Hoseok’s hand and lets himself be pulled away from onlookers in fancy suits and dresses.

He feels light on his feet but when he moves too fast he finds himself nearly falling. His head is spinning faster and faster and oh god why does he feel like he’s going to fall.

Yoongi’s dress ruffles against grass holding wet dew drops as they move. Hoseok frowns and considers carrying him for a split second, before realizing who he’s dealing with. Yoongi would rather fight a bear before being carried around like a lost puppy.

As if to prove a point to a problem Hoseok hadn’t even voiced, Yoongi plopped down on the wet grass as soon as the reached the tall oak stretching out for years to come.

“Taehyung would kill you if he could see you right now,” Hoseok told him. Plopping besides Yoongi as he pressed his head against the base of the tree. He pinches a piece of Yoongi’s dress together and rolls it around in between his fingers. It’s softer than he expected.

“We’d be even then, because I don’t plan on letting him live after letting me come out here like this.” Yoongi throws his arms out wide, as if that was the best way to emphasize what ‘this’ was.

Yoongi tries not to smile when Hoseok lets out a laugh in the corner of his shoulder. His breath catches when Hoseok’s hand reaches up gently towards his hair and runs his fingers through his blonde strands, knocking out his wedding veil. Hoseok lets his hand thread through his hair for a couple of seconds, before putting his hand back against his side and stared at Yoongi’s face with a gentle smile.

“For what it’s worth, I think you look beautiful.” He continues to gaze at Yoongi unabashed, and carefree. As if his words weren’t tilting Yoongi’s already unstable world upside down.

Embarrassed and slightly turned on, Yoongi plucks the veil from off the ground and winds his fingers around it till the fabric starts cutting off his circulation. Yoongi is so tired of all of these beautiful boys shaking up his feelings that he thought he had boxed up and forgotten in that dark room his brother kept him in.

This strange boy is doing some unhealthy things to Yoongi’s heart. It’s not beating fast and it’s not skipping a beat, but his heart does feel like it’s about to carve a path out of his chest and fall on the floor as an offering to this boy. An offering to the sun god. Yoongi is such a pathetic fool.

Yoongi was so used to the dark, and here Hoseok is, with his beams of sun trying to get in through Yoongi’s boarded-up windows. He hates it. He hates it so much when he draws himself closer into Hoseok’s side and unconsciously breathes in his scent of cotton and sugar powder. He hates this feeling that he’s coming undone as he chokes on a tearless sob while mouthing against the sleeve of Hoseok’s shirt.

Yoongi startles when Hoseok shifts and his arm accidentally rubs against Yoongi’s bonding mark. It’s sore and raw as it pulses against the edge of his jaw as if it’s angry with him. Yoongi reckons that the stupid mark is disappointed with him. It was only formed an hour ago and here Yoongi was, rubbing up against the arm of a different Alpha. Yoongi hated that he felt like he owed this mark something as he moved away from Hoseok and clutched at his face where it hurt worst.

“Shit, are you okay Yoongi? I was surprised that Namjoon would choose such an obvious place.” Hoseok tilts his head with worry and rests a hand kindly on Yoongi’s shoulder. “It’s not really like him to do something so possessive and rash.”

Yoongi feels himself soaking up Hoseok’s kindness like a sponge. He wants to put himself into every crevasse of this man and take in his smell until his nose falls off. How many words has Hoseok actually said to him? He doesn’t even know him, why is he so weak and why do his lips ache? He thinks it’s because he wants to kiss Hoseok so bad.

Yoongi gulps when he realizes he says that out loud.

“Woah there, someone’s had a little too much to drink tonight. Not that I don’t like that idea. But that’s probably not the best decision to make drunk and freshly married.” His smile hurts Yoongi’s eyes and fuck, Yoongi thinks he’s going to need sunglasses if he’s going to continue being in this person’s presence.

Yoongi resists rolling his shoulder out of Hoseok’s grasp, but resigns himself. It feels like he’s spent the entire day moving on a bipolar emotional rampage. Just a minute ago he had wanted to cry until his vision fades and then suddenly he wants to kiss this man. And now he was just confused. With who he was now and what it would mean to have Kim as his last name. And Yoongi might be a teensy bit drunk. God, remind him never to drink again

“You know, it didn’t seem rash to me, When Namjoon bit me. It looked like he considered every crucial second before the bite.” Yoongi remembers the way Namjoon had skimmed a finger up the crease of his neck, like he was searching for something. He also remembered the way Namjoon’s eyes had looked into his own, as if he saw something only he could have recognized. “I felt like I was being dissected, like, he was able to figure out everything he needed to know without saying anything.”

“Yeah, he sometimes has that effect on people. One moment it’s like you’re a bug under a microscope and the next you’re talking to your best friend.” Hoseok gently takes the veil away from where it laid intertwined in Yoongi’s fingers and stands up to wrap it around a tree branch instead.

“Sounds complicated and unhealthy.” Yoongi watches the veil sway and hopes the tie comes undone so it can disappear when the wind blows. Maybe the wind could take him next. The wind can become strong enough to destroy houses, it wouldn’t be the craziest thing if he was to just be scooped up with the breeze and flown away.

Hoseok snorts. “I think you’ll find that’s the way most things are in this mansion.” He pats Yoongi’s head and Yoongi resents it but he’s still quick to accept Hoseok’s hand when he offers to pull him up. His hand is warm just like he thought it would be.

Slowly, Hoseok helps him stand, and Yoongi wonders if he looks like a lopsided tent as he tries to fluff out the edges where the wires of the dress look bent.

“How exactly did you end up at then mansion?” ‘Are you here against your will too,’ is the question Yoongi doesn’t ask. Not yet.

“Like you already said, it’s complicated. Let’s just say it’s a story for another time.” And that was that. Yoongi guesses everybody has secrets. The sun must have thousands.

Together Hoseok and Yoongi peer around the tree and see the crowd has come alive in Yoongi’s absence.

People were dancing even though Yoongi couldn’t hear music, and there were people actually eating real looking food. Yoongi was jealous but he wasn’t quite as hungry as he was before. He now just felt like dry heaving. Still, the party seemed to be thriving as if everybody was feeling the buzz of the sun setting over them.

“Are you planning on joining them?” Hoseok looked at him expectantly, but didn’t let go of his hand. It seems like Hoseok has a bad habit of letting his touches linger.

Yoongi had a bad habit of wanting to encourage it.

Yoongi looked down at the wet stains on his dress and thinks about how his makeup must be smeared from seeing remnants of it stain the edges of Hoseok’s shirt, and decides that he’s better off here, clutching the hand of a boy he doesn’t really know, than dancing with a crowd who isn’t supposed to see him looking like such a mess. He tells Hoseok as much. “I’m kind of a walking disaster right now. Maybe it’s best if I stay away from the crowd.” And stay here with you.

“You’re a bit ridiculous. You know that? You could probably get hit by a bus and still look better than everybody in that crowd.” Yoongi shakes his head and Hoseok shrugs. “Fine with me, it’s their lost.” He reaches for Yoongi’s other hands and pulls him close. “I was supposed to come and get you when the sun went down and take you to your room, but the night is young, and I don’t think Namjoon will notice if you’re not there right away.”

Hoseok gestures to somewhere behind the tree and Yoongi looks over to find Namjoon being led by Jimin in a silly dance. The small boy’s face is red and cute and Namjoon smiles fondly on as Jimin coerces him into a game of London’s bridges falling down.

“What do you propose we do till then?”

“We shall do what I do best! Dance.” Hoseok’s grin is so infectious that Yoongi almost forgets to put up a fight when Hoseok starts swaying to an invisible song.

Yoongi takes an unsure step, not quite sure how to match up with the rhythm. His Movements are uncoordinated but at least he’s moving.” I’m under the impression I don’t have a choice? Because If I did I would be firmly against this, under the principle that I can’t dance.”

“That sure seems like a problem, but not one I can’t fix,” Hoseok holds him a little more firmly and moves to guide him with subtle gestures. As they move in slow awkward circles, Hoseok coaxes Yoongi’s arms to reach around his neck, and gently encourages Yoongi’s stance to not be so awkward with some slight prodding at his waist. Yoongi thinks he might be glowing. Is it because the sun is setting around them or because of the flush of alcohol reddening his cheeks?

Soon enough they had a decent enough hold on each other that they were able to accomplish the basics of not stepping on each other’s feet. Yoongi found the slight swaying calming, and when a loud yawn slipped out he realized it was even lulling to him sleep.

“Okay, I think it might be time for me to take you back to your room, Baby.” Hoseok expression is sweet and Yoongi nods sleepily, as he looks up into a dark sky full of stars searching for the moon. As Hoseok leads him away Yoongi thinks he spots it, but it turns out to the dimple of someone they brush by.

When Yoongi ends up in his room he plans to sleep the pain of today away, but he freezes when he feels Hoseok slip something into his hand. Yoongi opens it and sees a blue pill.

Hoseok hesitates for a long second. Gnawing on his pretty bottom lip, he told Yoongi, “I’ve been meaning to give this to you all night, but I didn’t want to scare you.” Hoseok lets a deep sigh as he runs his hand through his hair. “I’m not saying that Namjoon is a bad person, but it’s his wedding day, and more importantly, it’s his bonding day. Which means his-“ Hoseok hesitates a second time. “His ‘Alpha Side’ is going to be on overdrive after getting three new mates, so I’m, I- I’m not really sure if he will tolerate rejection tonight.”

Yoongi’s face goes white. Somehow, even in this stupid dress, while they had been under that tree, dancing, he had forgotten why he was really here. He forgot that he’s just an omega. A glorified baby maker. Yoongi felt so stupid as stared at the blue pill resting in the palm of his hand.

“What does the pill do?”

“It makes you feel like you’re drunk. It will make you feel dizzy and confused at first, but it usually leads to memory loss, and unconsciousness. It’ll be like this night never happened.”

Yoongi cringes in pain when he hears that, “Isn’t that kind of like a, um a-
The words are caught in his throat because they make him want to cry.

Hoseok finishes his thoughts for him.

“It’s like a date rape drug.”

Yoongi’s eyes drops to his feet, the pill suddenly weighed so heavy in his hand.

Hoseok waves his hands in front of him, his face pulled back into a frown and it looks like he’s the one about to burst in tears. “Of course, you don’t have to! I just, I just wanted you to have the choice.”

Yoongi nods. “That’s um…Thanks.” The weight of the pill sobered him in the worst way possible. He feels so embarrassed and overcome with how he was acting like a love-struck fool in a drunken attempt to avoid his problems. He needs to just be alone. “Goodnight then.”

“Y-yeah, Goodnight.” Hoseok slowly slips out the door, throwing one more sad look towards Yoongi before the door clicks, and the lock turns.

Yoongi immediately drops to the ground and bites down on his fist. Screaming into it as he cries out in a mixture of pain and animal like rage. He wants to hurt, but he also just wants to throw up all over this stupid dress.

Yoongi takes a slow breath, and it makes him so dizzy he feels like he’s about to topple over, but his mind is slowing down. He’s rationalizing. It’s a start. His life seems full of those lately.

The pill will need around thirty minutes for the pill to become effective. He doesn’t have much time to decide what he wants to do. He needs to think.

Yoongi looks at the pill, and mulls over what it could mean for him. It’s a chance to escape. A lie covered in the scent of Hoseok’s hand and factory chemicals, it will take his mind away.

But it’s also not going to change what happened. The outcome will stay the same and he just can’t picture letting himself being taken half unconscious with his mind trying to pull him under, like he’s sinking into an undercurrent and he’s running out of air.

The situation is awful, but he can’t not know.

With a heavy heart, Yoongi carefully hides the pill inside a flower pot by his bedroom door.

 

With the pill hidden out of sight a weight is lifted, but Yoongi still feels chained to the ground. It probably has something to with the heavy dress still hindering every move he makes.

With a sigh, Yoongi blindly reaches along his back side in search of a zipper, and yanks down harshly when he finds it. A tearing noise emits but he remains undeterred. It’s not like he’s going to ever wear it again.

When Yoongi emerges from the puddle of fabric washed up against his feet, he picks it up carefully and lays it out on the bed. Slowly, he smooths out the edges as his fingers praise the dress’s beauty. Taehyung had created a dream gown. If only it had gone to a willing bride.

Yoongi bites his lips as he rubs his bare thighs, the only thing against his skin is the skimpy fabric Taehyung had insisted upon. He already felt a million times better with the weight of the dress gone, now he only needs a place to put it.

Opening the door to what should have been the closet, he found a room full of nothing but empty clothes hangers and a lonely dresser pushed up against the back wall.

An annoyed sigh escapes Yoongi as he hurries to the back of the closet and opens door after door of barren dresser shelves.

“Fucking great,” Yoongi mutters. His brows crease in annoyance. It’s probably some stupid plan to get the brides naked, and as Yoongi looks down at the panties that barley covered his dick, he realized it worked. His only other alternative is to wear a twenty-pound dress to bed, and he just didn’t see that happening.

Yoongi hung his dress with one of the hundreds of free hangers just…hanging around. And resigns himself to waiting on the bed, glaring a hole into the wall.

There was no clock or window. Nothing to get him an inkling of how much time has past. So, he’s just left there to wilt like a flower left in the dark. A flower without a sun. God, he hates how a boy with a heart shaped smile is wrapped around the image of something so bright. It makes his eyes bleed in the darkness.

He looks at the floor pot by the door and thinks of the blue pill again.

Why was it blue? Blue is soft and kind like the sky. This pill should really be red. The color of fire and the pain it temporarily takes away.

Would the omegas in his village have chosen to have their minds clear and awake when the Alphas and betas of the night snuck into their bedroom door and ripped a place into their bodies until their skin didn’t smell like their own?

If given the choice would Jungkook have taken it? Would Jimin?

The pill is a savior. The pill is a killer.

A Savior from the pain. A killer of the truth.

Yoongi puts his hands over his eyes and hopes he chose right.

 

Yoongi’s eye creaks open, when the door does. Still covered in makeup he realizes he should have washed it off earlier, along with Hoseok’s scent.

Bleary-eyed and exhausted, Yoongi takes Namjoon’s disarrayed appearance in slowly. His hair looks like it’s been trampled in and a smile stretches to his cheek where apparently the moon lives. It shines down on Yoongi as Namjoon gets closer.

Namjoon is clumsy. Drunk, most likely. And Yoongi almost bites the hand that reaches out to touch his cheek.

“I don’t want you to touch me,” Yoongi grinds out. There’s a type of fire in Yoongi’s eyes similar to red pills and it makes his body shiver.

“Alright.” Namjoon says and the world is quite.

God feels real until Namjoon begins unbuttoning his shirt. But to Yoongi’s surprise, Namjoon offers it to him. “You’re shivering.”

“Not because of the cold,” he mutters, but Yoongi takes it and buttons it up quickly. He’s tired of everybody seeing him so vulnerable.

It’s silent again as they’re left in the dark. Both unsure of what comes next.

“Is it alright if I lay next to you,” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi’s tongue is straining in its attempts to hold back a no, but the surprise of Namjoon actually asking for his permission has him thrown off guard. Someone asking him, an omega, for approval makes him feel strange and has him hesitating. Dazed.

Namjoon takes his silence for refusal and slowly makes his way to the door.

He’s really leaving. Yoongi is astounded.

“Wait,” flies out of the mouth that he should have glued shut. Yoongi’s hand is outstretched like a beggar and he can’t believe what he’s begging for. Yoongi is a thief because he rather steal than get down on his knees to plea. But here he is, willing to ask someone to stay.

Namjoon does what he says and waits. It’s strange and they both must realize it as they end up just staring at each other again. Namjoon looks down at his outstretched hand, and Yoongi looks up at Namjoon’s flushed face.

Yoongi sucks in his lip, knowing he rather be alone, but he thinks of Taehyung. Taehyung told him he should strive to be Namjoon’s favorite, and that doesn’t sound like a bad step to finding a way to escape. Sleeping beside the man who kidnapped him will not hurt him. Probably.

“You can stay here.”

Namjoon nods slowly his hand hesitantly stroking Yoongi’s beggar arm as he sinks down next to Yoongi. His smile is goofy and full of surprise as if he can’t believe Yoongi allowed him to get this close. Yoongi can’t believe it either.

Slowly Namjoon lifts a hand to tentatively touch the bonding mark against Yoongi’s cheeks. It hurts like hell but Yoongi doesn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon breathes.

Yoongi shrugs. Not exactly sure what he’s apologizing for but not willing to forgive him either way.

Yoongi closes his eyes and feels Namjoon’s breath flutter on his lashes and it feels like fire and has him shivering all over again. “Why me?”

Namjoon waits for his eyes to open before he’s searching. Searching for something only he can find. He must have got tired because he gives up and closes them as he rests his forehead against Yoongi’s. “You smell like the ocean,” he whispered.

Namjoon’s dragon breath slowly mingled with Yoongi’s when he said, “He always wanted to see the ocean.”

Chapter Text

Namjoon was gone when Yoongi opened his eyes. In his place was Taehyung, who smiled at him eagerly from his bed side.

Instead of dwelling on how long Taehyung could have been standing there, Yoongi sat up and stretched his arms above his head until he heard his bones crack. He involuntarily let out a hissing noise when the pain of his bonding mark finally registered through his sleep muddled mind. A thrumming pain humming underneath his skin.

Taehyung smirked, clearly thinking his pained had abrupted from something a lot less innocent, and gestured to Namjoon’s shirt that hung loosely on Yoongi’s narrow shoulders. “I see you decided to make a new addition to your closet.”

Yoongi glared down at the fabric with his teeth seeped into his lower lip. The scent of it floated up underneath his own, smelling sharp and faintly like ginger. “Yeah, well considering someone moved everything out of the closet it wasn’t like I had a lot of options.”

“Can’t move something that was never there,” Taehyung tells him smugly.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, annoyance threading in through the pain and the memories of last night. He doesn’t want to deal with any games right now, his whole body feels like it was tied to a truck and dragged behind it for fifty miles on a freeway, and why the fuck did his head hurt so much?

“Why wouldn’t there be any clothes? Did they not bother to prepare ahead of time before they kidnapped people?”

Taehyung frowns a little but before he can get out an explanation Yoongi cuts him off.

“I still can’t believe I was the only fucking one in a wedding gown. I want to kill you. Will you let me kill you willingly? Or are you going to make this difficult.” Yoongi, fueled by his leftover emotions from yesterday pushes slowly off his bed, and tugs at the shirt so it at least covers part of his thighs when he stands up. Taehyung had moved to help him, but Yoongi had only brushed him off. Any trust Yoongi had placed in Taehyung last night is gone when Taehyung looked into his eyes.

It doesn’t seem to sit well with Taehyung, so he ends up hurrying to explain himself. “Okay, hear me out at least. I was asked by Namjoon to design you a wedding dress. It was a surprise, but I’m still pretty proud of myself for making the dress in two days.”

Well at least that cleared up one thing, but why did Namjoon only want him in a wedding dress? “You have to be shitting me. I guess that explains the underwear,” he replies in reference to the cloth hugging his crotch far too tightly.

Taehyung lets out a nervous laugh as he looks at the fabric a little bit longer than necessary, “Actually, that was my idea.”

Yoongi, understandably, stops all chain of thought as he moves to rip off Taehyung’s head.

Taehyung launches himself behind the opposite side of Yoongi’s bed and screams, “Freeze! I told you it was my job to give you the best chance, and hey, I bet that this got you noticed.”

Yoongi stops and pinches his nose in annoyance. Last night seems so blurry, what did he do? His head whirls around images of boys in tuxedos and a servant with a smile too wide for his face. Snapshots of pretty people touching his hand and a polaroid of a veil swaying from a tree.

When Yoongi wipes at his eyes and pulls his hand back, he sighs when he sees glitter covering his fingers. “At least it was just this once,” Yoongi allows.

Taehyung slowly peeks his head up from where he’s crouched by Yoongi’s bedside and hesitantly tells him, “Actually… Your entire closet was requested by Namjoon to have some feminine alterations.”

“You’re fucking kidding.”

“Go take a look,” Taehyung suggests with a finger pointing towards the closet door.

Without a single second more of hesitation, Yoongi bolts to the closet and throws the door open hard enough to leave a hole in the wall. Yoongi checks to see if he had managed to make this room more holey, but is only disappointed to a door stopper put in place to prevent that very thing from happening.

With a greater sense of dread, Yoongi shuffles into the once barren closet, and finds himself surrounded by clothing too bright and pure for his eyes. There’s lace dresses and short shirts with matching high waisted skirts. There’s frills in places there shouldn’t be, and dark colors like black and brown don’t seem to be in this closet’s agenda.

Yoongi doesn’t know a lot about fashion, but this ain’t it.

Yoongi immediately riffles through the clothes, digging for something that’s at least tolerable, but everything he comes across would get him banished from a catholic church as soon as he stepped foot through the door. “There’s not a single pair of pants in here,” he yells in frustration, and when Yoongi steps out of the closet he slams the door against the wall futilely again, knowing no damage would be done.

Taehyung stares at him from on top of Yoongi’s now made bed with only a shrug waiting for him. “I’m not going to lie, the clothes aren’t really something I would wear, but Namjoon means well. He’s probably only used to picking out clothes for…” Taehyung looks up surprised, confused about what he was going to reveal. With a shake of his head he tells Yoongi, “never mind.”

Yoongi clinches his jaw but is no longer surprised. This mansion is filled with fickle people with minds chocked full of half written clues to a poorly created puzzle. “Don’t bother to start something if you’re not going to finish it.”

Yoongi rips off Namjoon’s shirt and chucks it onto the floor. With one last pointed look he tells Taehyung, “I need a moment, don’t go anywhere.” Yoongi wouldn’t know how to find him if he left.

 

Yoongi moves to the bathroom door right by the closet and pries it open to escape the way Taehyung’s sad eyes prick his bare skin.

His panties drop to the floor in the same moment the door clicks shut. Yoongi picks them up and places them on the bathroom sink before moving to the bathtub and fiddling with the bath handles until water hot enough to melt off his skin bears down from the faucet.

Yoongi practically dives into it. His body warming rapidly until his face is flushed red and a gasp plucks itself from his lips when the water meets the mark on his face. He submerges himself into the water until a mixture of clarity and searing pain forces him out. Leaving him feeling raw and exposed as the pulsing of his neck threatens to consume him.

He moves to stands before the mirror dripping wet, as he wipes away the condensation on the glass, his lips puckering sourly at the blurry reflection that gets through to him.

His leftover makeup is smeared across his face and blobs under his eyes. His pale complexion exemplifies his makeup’s will to live on past it’s expectancy. With a strained sigh, Yoongi picks up a bar of soap and a rag he found in an overhead cabinet in an attempt to get the makeup off and to ignore the bigger problem at hand.

Yoongi soaks the rag with the soap in it, before furiously scrubbing his face raw. Yoongi let out a string of curses when soap lands in his eyes, but when he washes and dry off his faces he’s satisfied to see the makeup gone, even at the expense of rubbing off all the skin on his face. Looking like raw meat could be his new look, maybe then nobody would want to touch him.

“There has to be an easier way to do that,” Yoongi mutters. Rifling beneath the sink he finds a bottle labeled eye makeup remover, and a small part of him shrivels up and dies. When will he ever learn to think ahead?

With the makeup gone, and the glass on the mirror relatively dry, it was time for Yoongi to focus on the bigger issue at hand... err… at face? The mark that Namjoon had so graciously bestowed upon him had swollen up, and glared back him in an ugly arrangement of possessive colors. Every shade of purple and red was now fighting for ownership of Yoongi’s face.

A bitterness flared up in his stomach when Yoongi’s thoughts lingered on how this bite hidden in bruises would linger on his face, and would be most likely the first thing people see when they looked at him. Of course, without constant maintenance, the marks and bruises will fade, but the impressions of Namjoon’s teeth will linger until death does them apart.

So… four years at most.

No matter how short the time period it was, Yoongi still filled rage seething in at the thought of someone’s likeness being stamped into his skin, and on his face of all places! Namjoon might as well have taken a marker and written his name across Yoongi’s cheek.

It used to be that the placement of a bonding mark had a special meaning, just like flowers. But for Namjoon to just snap and mark him where he had was just gaudy as hell. He could try to cover it. Yoongi is sure that Taehyung would help him, but he feels like hiding it would be admitting defeat to something.

A part of him is screaming that he shouldn’t need to hide. Being an omega is inconvenient, in everyway imaginable, but Yoongi refuses to feel shame for the way he was born.

The body he was born in will be the same body he’ll die in. He doesn’t get a choice. Yoongi didn’t get a choice when he was taken from his brother and lined side by side other omegas who’s fear still lingered somewhere in his memories. He didn’t get a choice about being married, and it’s already been decided that he will give birth on someone else’s schedule. Even now he can’t even choose the clothes he wants to wear.

But then Yoongi sees pictures of Namjoon just lying beside him. Just breathing the same air as him as they both had drifted off from exhaustion.

“Is it alright if I lay next to you?”

What does that mean? Why would he decide then to give Yoongi a choice then? Is consistency dead?
He’s trapped here. But Yoongi isn’t tied to a bed. At least, not yet.

Should he be working towards some grand plan? Should he stay and piece things together until he has a functional puzzle, or should he bolt as soon as the opportunity rises?

Maybe there is no gray on this matter, but it’s definitely not black and white. The more Yoongi thinks about it, the more he sees a murky brown. A murky brown that’s too dark to swim in, but here Yoongi is considering drinking from it.

He’s not sure what he’s looking for, but it’s time to start getting answers.

Yoongi steps out of the bathroom and immediately demands for Taehyung to strip. “Take off everything but your tighty-whities.”

Taehyung whole body startles from where he was laying out clothes on Yoongi’s bed, but without turning around, he says “I don’t think that’s the best idea. I am still a pure maiden and do not wish to sully myself in the eyes of God. I know you can no longer relate to that sentiment, but please try to understand my wishes to carry on a life of virtue.”

“Cut the bullshit and give me your clothes,” Yoongi growls.

The noise causes Taehyung to turn to him in surprise. His pretty eyes open slightly wider in response, but with the obedience of an omega, he strips free of his clothes until only his underwear remains.

Yoongi slowly reaches for the clothes, his hands lingering the same way his eyes do, as he maps out the workings of Taehyung’s body. Every inch of him is beautiful, it’s astounding. He must have stared at Taehyung for ages, but for some reason… he never called him out on it.

When Yoongi finally let’s go of Taehyung’s hand and stands with the buttoned-up shirt with vertical stripes, and quickly throws it on, allowing the clothes to drown him.

Wordlessly, he allows for Taehyung to fold the sleeves and tuck in his shirts into the baggy slacks he had also taken from Taehyung, so he looked somewhat presentable. Hopefully, he would come across as the spitting image of a servant.

Taehyung even gets on his knees to help Yoongi put on his shoes, and delicately double ties the knot.

“You should help yourself to the closet, unless you want to go around like that all day,” Yoongi reminds him. He’s not sure how much more of a naked gorgeous boy he could take this early in the morning.

A smile appears back on Taehyung’s lips as if he’s been snapped out of a servant spell, “Like anything in your closet is more decent?”

“Yah, I don’t think that’s my fault, now is it? Whatever, go around naked if you really want to. I’m sure someone will appreciate it.”

“Is that someone you?” Taehyung teases. “Better be careful about who you hit on Yoongi Hyung, you’re a married omega now. I rather not get sacked and thrown into a river for being the object of your affections.”

“If you don’t have clothes on in two minutes I will staple a pair of undies to your forehead.”

Taehyung looks at him as he hesitantly holds up the clothes on the bed he had originally brought out for Yoongi. “It’s scary looking, Hyung.”

“You have a minute left.”

Taehyung whimpers as he throws on the lilac top that just barely covers his belly button, and a skirt that that flounces down to his knees. He crosses his legs insecurely, feeling super uncomfortable about being commando, because in the end, Yoongi had taken his boxer briefs too.

The clothes don’t fit either of them, and Taehyung looked like he’s about to burst into tears

But Yoongi tells Taehyung he looks nice, and laughs, wondering if he could just have Taehyung fill in for him and play the role of an omega.

Maybe he’s being harsh, but now is the time to prod and pull at the people around him, after all, Yoongi needs to know who he could break so they would give out a bit to his will. He wants to find someone he can trust, or at least someone he can exploit.

A smile quirks up on his lips when he says, “Taehyung, as long as you promise to not do anything unnecessary, I think we can manage being friends. That is… if you want to be.”

A boxy smile greets him. “I Think I do. Surprisingly.”

“Astonishingly,” Yoongi corrects. Before disappearing out his bedroom door.

 

 

With Taehyung’s clothes fastened as tight as he could make them, Yoongi wanders out his door without a direction, and finds himself puzzled.

Beyond his room is a long hallway with no other doors.

On a leap of blind faith, Yoongi turns right, and follows the red windowless walls until they curve around a corner and quickly end upon the admittance of an elevator.

Yoongi quickly prods at it, looking for a button, but instead of anything of the sort there’s only a slot. Looks like he would need a key card to even get into the elevator. Why didn’t Taehyung tell him about this? Probably because he stole his clothes and bounced before he got the chance, his mind supplied unhelpfully.

Like a rat in a maze, Yoongi is forced to retrace his steps back to his room, and down the other end of the hallway.

Around this corner, it branches off to two more hallways. Unlike the hallway with Yoongi’s bedroom, the first new hallway is lined with a multitude of doors. Markingless and scattered unevenly, Yoongi wasn’t sure to expect behind them, but before he even got the chance, he heard a scream erupt from the other hallway.

Yoongi scurried over so he could peer into the final hallway just in time to see a sharp-nosed beta in servant clothes walk out of the bedroom on the end of the hall, drenched head from toe in what looked like tea.

With a huff the servant fled from the room, not even bothering to register Yoongi, who had flushed himself up against the wall as the man brushed past him, grumbling about something under his breath.

When the man vanished around the corner, Yoongi snapped his attention back to the door, quickly noticing how it laid cracked open. With one more glance over his shoulder, Yoongi bolted to the room, and gasped when he saw the largest window he’s ever come across.

The Light embellished him as the sun bared down on the glass and reflected an astonishing amount of beauty that Yoongi was almost able to overlock the complex measures put into place to keep the window from ever being broken, or god forgive, opened.

Who in the hell was special enough to get window privileges?

Someone in the room clears their throat. “Looks like you didn’t bring me orange juice either.”

Yoongi immediately his head towards the sound, going on the defensive as his eyes lock onto a beautiful omega man tucked into a bed with pristine sheets. There’s not a single crease to be found, it’s as if the man has never moved among them.

A rough sigh escapes the man’s lips as he dramatically leans his head back against the bed’s backboard. “I guess I’m destined to die before being graced with the presence of my preferred beverage.”

Yoongi mentally rolls his eyes. At least then, the man will match the dead roses on his nightstand Besides, if he was really thirsty, he should have drunk the tea he was given, instead of throwing it at his servant. “Yeah, that’s great and all, but do you know how I can get off this floor?” ‘And – oh yeah- why the fuck do you get a window and I get a closet full of women’s clothes?’

The man ignores him in favor of inspecting his nails. It’ another long pause before the beautiful man looks up and gives him a look that screams ‘Oh? You’re still here?’ Before looking back down at his hands.

This bitch.

“so are you just going to stand there, or are you going to tell me your name.”

Yoongi pauses. And for no other reason besides spite, he lies. “I’m Suga.”

The man arches an eyebrow, “I guess it fits you. You’re so pretty and pale, but I don’t remember my husband getting married to a Suga?”

Yoongi’s stomach did a summer flip. Husband? Husband. He just said husband. Namjoon has a first wife? Yoongi guesses that it makes sense. Why else would an omega be here? But why are they here then? What does this mean for Yoongi, Jungkook, and Jimin then? How many omegas does Namjoon need before he’s satisfied?

Maybe this isn’t such a bad thing. This is someone who’s probably been here for years and knows the inside of the mansion like the back of their hand. Maybe this overwhelming attractive, broad shouldered, prima-dona can help him escape, or in the very least, help him figure out how to get a window of his own.

In the meantime, it was best for him to keep up with the lie. Might as well see how far it can take him now that he’s started it. “I’m a servant,” he tells Mr. shoulders.

The man hums, “Yet you have no orange juice.” And returns to picking at his cuticles.

Quickly realizing this was going nowhere, Yoongi turned to bargaining. “If I get you orange juice will you answer some of my questions?”

A smile plays on the man’s lips. “If you bring it back in less then ten minutes, I’ll think about it.”

 

 

Yoongi stumbles into the kitchen after messily following the directions he gained from cross-examining a servant carrying normal looking clothes in the direction of the omegas’ bedrooms. If he seemed pissy, it wasn’t because he was bitter. Not in the slightest. His teeth are just grinding together on their own free will.

The kitchen was alive with noise and laughter. Pots and pans clattered as servants went around the room in circles. They move and prepare trays halfheartedly, too preoccupied with the smiles and laughs taking ahold of them. In the middle of it all lies Hoseok, with his head back and a gleam in his eyes. The obvious cause of the slackery taking place, his own laughter consumed everybody else’s.

When the room quiets down a bit after Hoseok stops laughing long enough to breathe, he finally notices Yoongi staring at him from the entryway. He waves him over with a tray in one hand.

“Hey baby!” Hoseok greets, and Yoongi’s cheeks puff up and he visibly bristles slightly when he moves closer towards Hoseok. Not dissimilar from a little cactus.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Yoongi flashes to yesterday and how the word ‘baby’ always greets him in place of his name. “Did you really forget my name?”

Hoseok’s grin freezes in place as his body tenses up like a rusted tin man.

“Ah… busted.” He lets out a robotic laugh, as if it was a joke. Yoongi isn’t convinced.

Yoongi decides then and there (for probably not the last time) that every beautiful person in this mansion is really just a giant idiot. “You know what, yesterday is kind of blurry and my face is throbbing for obvious reasons, so I’ll just make it even and conveniently forget your name too.”

Hoseok’s face falls as he puts down the tray, and moves to gently touch Yoongi’s face. His hand falls before it even gets close, suddenly too aware of all the other servants side eyeing them from across the room. His voice is close to a whisper when he tells him, “Of course I know your name, Yoongi. It was just a joke.”

“Ha ha,” Yoongi deadpans. He looks away from Hoseok’s peering gaze. Embarrassed that he cared so much.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry, please believe me,” Hoseok delivers through a comically sized pout. Yoongi can’t help the snort he lets out, after seeing Hoseok’s pout get bigger every second longer he takes to forgive him.

“Whatever, guess I’ll forgive you if you give me the largest glass of orange juice you can find. It needs to be big enough to satisfy a princess, so I’m thinking it needs to be at least tub sized”

Hoseok’s smile snaps back into place, “So you’ve finally met Seokjin!” Hoseok snaps his head in the direction of the cook eavesdropping by the oven, and asks him to make the ‘Jin special.’

Yoongi gives him a weird look, “So is this Seokjin just widely known as the orange juice whore?”

A laugh bubbles out of Hoseok and Yoongi feels like he’s done something good for the world. “Among other things. Jin is a forced to be reckon with, but I am a little surprised you’ve met him already. Everyone keeps acting like Jin doesn’t know about you guys.”

“He didn’t recognize me. He thought I was a servant.”

Hoseok side eyes him with a look of disbelief. “Yoongi, there is a bonding mark the size of a continent on your face. Trust me when I say, HE KNOWS.”

“Then why…?”

A nervous laugh bubbles out as Hoseok shoves a tray into his hands. “Jin is a little hard to understand sometimes, but he really is a sweetheart. He was probably just pulling a fast one on you.”

“Everyone here is shady,” Yoongi grumbles as he glares down at what must be the ‘Jin special.’ The only thing on the tray is a glass of orange juice and some fruit.

Why is there so little? Yoongi guesses it’s just another rich people food diet. Only those raised with wealth would choose to make themselves hungry. Whatever, Yoongi guesses it’s time to confront Seokjin head on now.

But, when Yoongi moves to leave with the tray in hand, Hoseok leans towards him to ghost a whisper in his ear.

“How much do you remember?”

A lot. Too much. Not enough.

Yoongi pictures the kiss he planted drunkenly on those heart shaped lips, and the pill that was pressed into his hand and then hidden away by the plant by his door.

He remembers holding Jimin’s hand in one moment and being slapped by a woman in the next.

He remembers a man made from the moon lying in his bed, and a young boy who played line leaner as three omegas made their way to the altar.

The pill was supposed to destroy his recollection. But he didn’t use it. By chance he didn’t need it. But should he be honest? Did Hoseok deserve the truth? Maybe.

“Remember what?” Yoongi responds coyly, walking out the door before Hoseok can respond.

Maybe not.

Yoongi completely misses the lifeless look in Hoseok’s eyes when Yoongi lets the door shut between them.

 

Yoongi came in with the tray of food balanced on his lip, and his eyes crinkle from the sunlight Seokjin’s window had to offer. It’s blinding, but he’s still jealous about not receiving window privileges. It would be nice to at least know if it was day or night. It seems that clocks are scarcer than windows here.

Upon seeing Seokjin missing from his bed, Yoongi moves over to the cracked open bathroom door and peeks through to see Seokjin pouring a pitcher of tea down the sink with the biggest scowl on his face.

The steam hisses forward and surrounds Seokjin like a coil of smoke and causes bits of sweat to appear on his delicate features. Everything this man does capitalizes on his appearance. Every move he makes is dripping in honey, where does all this sweetness go?

“I hope you’re not planning to do that to the orange juice you specifically requested for. You might have shoulders big enough to carry the world, but I will end you,” Yoongi huffs, cradling the glass of orange juice from the tray with his right hand protectively.

A laugh cackles through the room, but a pout forms on his lips when Yoongi swats his hand away from the tray. “Hey! No need to resort to violence. It’s not like I’m in a good position to go around starting fights.” A cough erupted from his mouth as soon as the words got out. Seokjin’s body visibly shakes under the power of it, and when he pulls his hand back from his mouth, there’s blood staining the corner of his lips.

“Woah. Ae you going to make it?” Yoongi catches his own lip between his teeth in concern as Seokjin struggles to fully straighten himself. He isn’t sure if he should offer his help, so he ends up just moving away from the bathroom door so Seokjin can pull himself together and slowly makes his way to the bed.

The room carries a strange silence as Seokjin precariously stacks his pillows together, so he can prop himself up. With a blood dipped smile, he asks Yoongi, “Can I have my orange juice now?”

Yoongi frowns in disbelief. “You just hacked up a lung, shouldn’t we… I don’t know, call a doctor?” He hands over the tray with orange juice anyway.

“Hah, a little cough never killed anyone.” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, and Seokjin just smiles through the rim of his glass as he sips on his drink slowly. “The virus though, that will get me eventually.”

The realization washes over Yoongi like a tidal wave as he continues to look at Seokjin’s perfect face absolutely dumfounded. “You have the virus.”

“Don’t look so surprised. I wouldn’t have been given a window if they thought I was healthy enough to go anywhere.” A hum sounds out as he gazes at the reflective panel besides him. “This window is one of my few rewards for dying.”

“That doesn’t explain why you were pouring tea down the drain,” Yoongi provokes. He moves closer to Seokjin’s bed, with a napkin he swiped from one of Seokjin’s dressers.

Seokjin takes the napkin Yoongi offers him and dabs at his lips, completely unsurprised to see blood seeped into the white fabric. “That’s a secret. After all, this mansion is built on secrets. You should know all about that, huh, “Suga.” Seokjin smirks.

Yoongi feels see through. “That’s…”

“Not your real name.” Seokjin finishes. “You’re an omega in beta clothes, I can read through the lines. Well… that and the huge bond mark on your face was quite the dead giveaway. But don’t worry, I already knew that Namjoon had found new mates. I asked him to.”

“Why would you possibly want to share your mate with someone else?” Seokjin probably came from a rich family and wanted for nothing. The virus is probably the first time he’s ever felt suffering. Omegas like that want to marry for love and don’t take kindly to outsiders brought from the streets who are added to their marriage like an unsightly staple on an already hole-punched paper.

Seokjin rolls the empty glass of orange juice around in his hands. They look strong, but his grip is weak. “Mhmm, not now. We’re getting off track.” Seokjin places the glass on the counter by his bed, before zoning in on Yoongi who hovers uncertainly next to him. “How about you tell me what your real name is, and I’ll tell you why I refuse to drink anything given to me by my domestic.”

Yoongi ponders the situation briefly. Seokjin obviously already knows why he’s in the mansion, there’s only three new wives, it can’t possibly be that hard for him to find his name. On the other hand, who knows what value lies behind the secrets wrapped up in the crown of Seokjin’s head. What if Seokjin’s secrets will unravel a path to freedom?

With the apprehension of a man writing his name on an agreement where his soul is at stake, Yoongi hands over his name. “I’m Min Yoongi, but I guess it’s Kim Yoongi now,” he mutters disdainfully.

Seokjin’s eyes lighten when turned towards him, the light from the window casting the brightest shade of warmth across his cheeks. “I’m Kim Seokjin. Welcome to the family, Yoongi.”

“Yah, a family of strangers, don’t I feel all warm inside.”

“Everybody is a stranger at a given point in time. It’s up to you how much you’re willing to let them in, so they can get to know you.”

Yoongi frowns. His family had never felt like strangers. Even his brother had brought in shades of comfort every time he reunited with Yoongi in the darkness of his room. His only consolation growing up without his parents is that he’d never had to face another stranger as long as his brother was guarding his door.

“Whatever. It’s your turn,” Yoongi tells Seokjin pointily. Something like steel flaring up at a memory of safety.

Seokjin doesn’t seem to mind. He tells Yoongi a little too happily, “Long story short, I think someone is trying to kill me.”