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the annual event is called ‘the bidding’.
it’s an ironic name, and wooyoung’s pretty sure the sick fuck that started this got a kick out of having the term both mean an auction, as well as the implication of an omega doing an alpha’s bidding.
the title of ‘omega of the year’ would be the purest breed each cycle- like the prized crown jewel, the biggest, ripest peach of every harvest. there was a purity test to be conducted monthly, and the aggregated result would contribute to their yearly scorecards. internally, they were classified into two categories- diamond or ruby. in layman terms, good omega or bad omega.
diamonds tended to possess more docile and domestic traits, taking into account how they fared in cooking, maternal and domestic instincts like stereotypical ‘omega’ associated traits. rubies on the other hand, tended to be more feral or rebellious in nature. they were the feisty ones that would require more corporal punishment, and tended to fare on the lower end of the bidding prices.
this year, for the first time since the biddings ever began, the omega of the year was a ruby.
wooyoung was so pissed off when he first presented as an omega.
his entire lineage, male or female, were all alphas. save for one anomalous beta cousin, everyone was an alpha. the jungs were all passionate in their purpose, tended to pander towards social causes and use their voice to fight for equality. that was also the reason why they tended to attract trouble. and with attention and trouble in a tyrannical place like town Z, chances are you would either remain silent, or be silenced.
at age sixteen, everyone is mandated to go to ‘prep school’.
the earliest anyone’s subgender could present was sixteen, and subsequently based on alpha, beta or omega, you would change classes and majors best catered to your subgender. or at least, that was how the systems in town Z worked.
by twenty one, alphas would be posted to suitable jobs, based on their aptitude and ability tests in school. alphas tended to get better pay and respectable jobs, such as doctors and lawyers or high ranking government officials. sure, they had to cater for the other non-elite classes, so there would be a token few omegas and betas placed in high standing jobs as well- but they were undoubtedly placed under stricter observation, a tilted scale with odds stacked against them.
in essence, omegas were primed to be subservient, and lay the foundations of menial workers and integral yet low paying, frowned upon jobs. betas were in the middle, and could play their neutral card to either bootlick and cater to the elites, earning them a spot close to a low ranking alpha, or if they acted out and behaved rowdily, be demoted to the likes of a high ranking omega. otherwise, betas were likely to make up the middle class, like generic office workers and salespeople.
the rich grew richer and the poor stayed poor- the distribution of wealth only circulated amongst the elites, and as you could guess, these were all pureblooded alphas.
rumours in the omega dorms say that whatever it is, do your best not to get bidded by choi san.
they say he’s cold and calculating and only bids on the purest omegas- then eats them or sells them or locks them up in his dungeon as a slave. for his pleasure, for him to knock up. for him to have his fun, bound and gagged with nowhere else to run. they say choi san is a big, broad alpha. typical, brooding and moody, and filthy fucking rich. that he comes from a line of elites and high flyers. they say his ancestors have something to do with the mafia and the underground shady gangs and illegal businesses.
they say this big, bad alpha will ruin you.
wooyoung doesn’t know who choi san is.
hasn’t even caught a whiff or glimpse of the man. but he knows the man to be a diamond dealer- he bids on the purest, most hardworking omegas, most of them wooyoung’s friends. like ghost stories, these stories from the rumour mills get passed out when the guards are sleeping, past midnight.
they say choi san is always after the omega of the year.
apparently, he’s successfully bidded for seonghwa. mingi. and last year, his best friend yeosang. or so the allegations go. if the rumours are true, then he positively hates that fucker. what are the odds you bid on the omega of the year with pure thoughts? does he have a virginity kink or what? blood diamonds, wooyoung angrily thinks, these rich people buy us and harvest us like fucking blood diamonds. no wonder why they call the opposite of an obedient omega a ruby.
despite their teary goodbyes and promises to meet again, none of his friends had written back to him. omegas aren’t allowed phones, unlike the alphas in school. omegas are always forced to submit, sitting at the bottom of societal hierarchy. maybe they have written to him, but the guards have withheld them. like they always do, only for omegas.
it’s a tough world out here, with the majority of the population being omegas, it meant that the dorms were more cramped. not to mention, with the same amount of space allocated for each class, omegas naturally had to squeeze like a pack of sardines. only if you performed well, the top five omegas of each two week rotation would get a thin mattress and blanket to sleep on. otherwise, everyone made do with the cold cement floors. the only consolation was comfort in numbers, and the gentle heat that came with it. that they could gossip and chat to keep each other company. so the hours would pass faster in this hellhole.
everyone in omega prep school, even the most rebellious, mostly end up converting into diamond status by the end of their stay- for fear of not being bidded on and taken home. if you hit twenty six, five years after your peak (considered as when you debuted at twenty one) you’d automatically get sent to the ‘shelter’. shelter was a nice way to put it, but everyone just knew that was a kinder way of describing the landfill where they tossed all the unwanted, ‘defective’ omegas.
wooyoung shudders at the thought. if you reached that landfill, chances were high you’d finally be taken- but by the unsavoury sort of greasy alphas with bad intentions. the black market scalpers and the grave robbers and organ harvesters. he’s seen the breaking news. omegas aren’t really allowed to read or write much save for the basics, but he does try to flirt around occasionally for information. it’s only just a little more information from some betas by the communal water fountain, but it’s still better than nothing.
while he still bites at the rude handlers and condescending trainers at prep school, his grades at cooking and cleaning and taking care of children are excellent, always top of his cohort. so they have nothing to say. there’s nothing they can say. wooyoung’s a good omega, by way of the insular grading systems. the system is flawed, and in this case, that’s the sole reason that’s saving wooyoung. as much as he hates this fuckass system, it still gives him some leeway to express his hatred and disdain for it.
wooyoung’s born a ruby, and will die a ruby.
however, he does understand why even the omega friends he’s made in camp have been ‘purified’ and ‘converted’ from even the reddest ruby to the mildest of a colourless diamond. it’s scary, the thought of nobody wanting you, and you’d be presented to all those snobby rich upper class folk, for them and their gaudy, brash, tasteless attitudes- only for them to judge you for a minute and decide whether you were worth any of their dirty money.
and then the humiliation, stripped bare year after year to these strangers, spotlight placed on you. those judgemental eyes, the disgust in their expressions, the mocking whispers. he’s seen omegas go for as cheap as a few hundred won. it’s absolutely horrible as it is devastating. the fact that the price over your head is decided by someone who happened to be the descendant of someone powerful. nepotism. autocracy. a disgusting monopoly of power shared by those few aristocratic families. it sickens him.
he’s heard how some of these auction goers, in rare cases, are actually looking for an omega to wed, to take as a partner and companion. the thought alone is sweet, but wooyoung wonders how much could really be concluded as the host of the bidding reads out their statistics and grades, gives the audience a minute or two to take their naked bodies in. muzzled, put on a leash, shackled like a pet on display in case of an attempted attack or escape. it’s terrifying. after all that, to either go home and potentially become someone’s slave in their farm or some sweatshop factory. bidding for you, as a form of extremely cheap labour. or bidding for you, just to use as a sex slave, as a mere hole for their needs. milking these omegas dry for slick to sell, to use for perverted purposes. buying them for breeding training for their own kids. it’s so fucking revolting.
he doesn’t know if life is equally bad elsewhere. but for now, seriously, fuck being an omega in town Z.
if it’s a sick and twisted game these people in power are playing, wooyoung will fucking play. he will beat the system. his grades in omega school are stellar. his teachers say he’d be a good nurse, or a teacher. a good florist or waiter. maybe even a competent midwife. all of which, are already considerably better, high end jobs for omegas. a nurse, wooyoung thinks, this is probably the closest any of us omegas could come to the hospital, or any medical job. wow. that’s high praise. surely i should be worth at least sixty-ish thousand won? a bit higher than the mid-tiers? eighty thousand won would be unfathomable.
so despite the hissy fits and the attitude he gives, it’s no surprise that wooyoung is named omega of the year.
he envisions that whichever entitled fucking old man bids for him, he’ll play along and be nice so he doesn’t get arrested for being feral and attacking his new ‘owner’ in public. but the moment he reaches his new ‘home’, he will make a plan and attack. he will get this rich man’s resources to find his friends and save them if need be. he will. he has to. and the first order of business, will be to find out who the fuck is choi san.
there’s no other way, apart from being the best omega, that these awful handlers will release him. this is what he’s been waiting for, prepped for. while he does adore children and has a flair for cooking, wooyoung really doesn’t understand how these should be considered ‘omega’ traits. wouldn’t it be sexy if an alpha knew how to cook and provide too? shouldn’t raising a child be equal for both parents, regardless of their class? but anyways, that’s not important for now. he has a jail to escape.
they’ve saved the best for last.
wooyoung should've debuted at the bidding last year, together with yeosang, but he has a feeling someone sabotaged him and spiked his food, and he came down with a stomach bug. and mingi was debuted a year early, because his growth spurt came earlier, and the handlers wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible because he was taking up so much space. omegas tended to be on the shorter and petite side, thus making sequestering all of them into one big room a lot easier for their handlers.
otherwise, at the same age, the three of them would’ve been fighting for the top title, and maybe things would’ve been different. wooyoung hopes that they’re all okay. nobody knows the prices each omega goes home for, save for the omega themselves and whoever’s present at the bidding. they only know the yardstick for each tier, and legend has it that the most expensive omega of the year once went for slightly over a million won.
not at all concerned about the deep frown and scowl he wears, wooyoung squints as they harshly nudge him onto the podium with the glaring spotlight. god, the audience is massive. it’s like they’re at the ballet or theatre or something. all these men and women, dressed to the nines, with goddamn binoculars and shiny rings and necklaces that glimmer wherever all these lights may hit. there’s even a fucking chandelier in this room, like some ostentatious soap opera premiere. this is even more sickening than he imagined.
“and now… the moment you have all been waiting for, ladies and gentlemen!” the host announces cheerfully, voice drenched with honeyed venom. it’s almost like he’s presenting a new toy to the audience, except that this is a glorified human auction that society sees no issue with.
“i hereby present to you, the omega of the year, jung wooyoung!”
for fuck’s sake, there’s even applause and cheers. what is he, a circus animal? a successful party trick? wooyoung makes sure to open his eyes, to memorise and burn the image of these disgusting people into his brain. makes sure to take them down the moment he hatches a plan and gets money and-
“since this is our first ruby since the biddings have started, we have a challenge on our hands! our opening bid will start higher, since wooyoung ssi here has been endorsed by our top educators as a rare gem!” wooyoung almost growls and spits at the host, but reminds himself to keep his mouth shut. if they call the police on him, there’s no more potential freedom. he’s so close to escaping this jail. he will just have to stand and endure this bullshit.
“let us commence the bidding for jung wooyoung, which will start at five hundred thousand won!”
wooyoung’s jaw drops. okay, so he is a bit thankful that they’re given underwear when standing on the podium, whereas the ‘lower tier’ omegas were actually forced to be naked and even parade around on all fours in hopes of appealing to the crowd. bidding for those has no minimum price. whereas the more presentable, decent mid tier omegas could start around fifty thousand won. but his? five hundred fucking thousand won. holy shit. these fancy dress masquerading people must be loaded. swimming and bathing in wads of cash, simply born sleeping on daddy’s money.
the crowd stirs, and the number plates are steadily raised. five hundred and fifty thousand. six hundred thousand. seven hundred and twenty thousand. jesus. these people were obscenely wealthy and ignorant. bidding like it’s fun and games and-
“five million won.”
the room falls into a hush.
then it becomes some sort of frenetic battle. wooyoung soon understands why- this is a matter of pride. this is about prestige, it’s about a show of strength and power; the flaunting of unbridled, flagrant wealth. wooyoung feels dizzy. to think he ballparked himself to cost a maximum of seventy thousand won. and then his opening bid was five hundred thousand. and then this fella, in immaculate suit and tie, watching and waiting from the seat in the corner, with his slicked back hair and glasses. but the moment he spoke, his words commanded attention. just three words, and the room went into an outrage of delirium.
then wooyoung realises- this man must be choi san. it feels like it.
his bid goes up at once. five point two million. five point six. he feels his knees want to buckle and give way, because for all that bold planning and sheer bravado, these exorbitant sums of money could well mean that any of these people could even kill him, without suffering any consequences. they could bid for him and torture him and split him open at their gated community entranceway and nobody would bat an eyelash.
it’s maddening, to be at the upper echelon’s mercy. his price is borderlining six point eight million now. oh god. they’re just never going to let him escape like that, are they? oh no. he’s going to be held hostage forever. with a price like this, he’s going to be flaunted and displayed. he’s going to be-
“hey, you stupid little omega. stand straight for your potential alphas.” the guard in charge of him sneers, and it’s only then that wooyoung realises he’s shaking. he’s not built for this. they’re going to have their way with him, with their innate alpha strength that he could not biologically overpower as an omega. their subgender was evolved to be docile and obey, not to defy and revolt.
“you there. watch your tone,” the alpha who started this mad frenzy says out loud, voice steely as he squints at the guard, “please be gentle with my omega.”
the possessive adjective doesn’t go unnoticed by wooyoung. shit, this guy is so sure of himself, he’s confident that i’m going to be his? on one hand, wooyoung’s flattered that the man sees his high worth in monetary terms, jacking up his price to seven digits- but on the other hand, a part of him feels grossed out that he thinks he can claim ownership over wooyoung just because of his stacks of money. but hey, seven million won is pretty sexy, regardless of the situation here. wooyoung’s not sure if he’s even worth a million. albeit, the money goes to the government or ‘to enhance the prep school facilities’ which everyone knows is just a cover for embezzlement and corruption amongst the few alpha males in power.
“i’m sorry, sir. i’ll be careful with the omega.”
“going once… going twice…” the host gleefully announces, and wooyoung squeezes his eyes shut. let’s get this over and done with. if he’s the one who also bid for seonghwa and mingi and yeosang, then at least we’ll be reunited. the odds were low that someone else would match this man’s price. seven million won. the moment there was a tie of bids between two alphas for prices exceeding a hundred thousand won, the alphas would have to fight. a battle of honour. shit rules for shit games. in the history of the annual biddings, only seonghwa’s year had resulted in a three-way fight. boxing. the victor was rumoured to be choi san. “at a price of seven point three million, jung-”
“eight million won.”
wooyoung didn’t know he’d been holding his breath, until he heard a different voice announcing the extravagant sum. i’m not worth this much, people, wooyoung’s thoughts are a mess, please. just let someone take me, my legs are killing me from standing with these chains and the lights are so bright and-
“will our previous bidder match this gentleman’s price over here?” the host seems way too excited for the drama, and wooyoung just knows this will be the talk of the town for the next few weeks. this is insane. he’s not as gentle as seonghwa is. he’s not as sweet as mingi. he’s not as pretty as yeosang is. so why the hell are his prices so-
“yes, i will.”
the man with the glasses snaps his fingers, authoritatively pointing here and there, and the guard nods as he gulps. clearly, one word from this alpha and he’d be fed to the wolves. wooyoung finds himself ushered into a soft, plush chair, offered water. he’s parched. his feet ache. this experience has been… something. he inhales the water given, feels his body cool slightly. the alpha’s standing now, brows furrowed.
“ladies and gentlemen! a number of spectacular things happening tonight!” the host laughs, as if he’s making a toast at some feast, instead of playing auctioneer to wooyoung’s potential bleak future. “a tie breaker, my oh my. it’s been years since we had something so exciting like this! i guess our precious ruby, wooyoung ssi, must be really special, hm?”
wooyoung’s throat goes dry. fuck. they’re going to do the wheel of fortune thing- the kind of thing you learn in school in theory, but never expect it to happen in real life. god, the things these entitled rich people orchestrate for fun and games.
the big, showy wheel gets brought out, and wooyoung is helped to his feet. yeosang had taught him more advanced reading, so he can make out the words on the wheel, albeit slowly. this was the battle of honour- it’s only happened a couple of times since the biddings began, and wooyoung’s stomach is churning, his insides up in knots as he feels bile rise up to his throat. he’s going to become the legacy textbook example of a highly prized omega at the yearly auctions. with two bulky, mountainous alphas fighting for him. this is insane. he’s kept his body soft yet chiseled, yes, but not to the point where him and his bratty mouth is worth eight fucking million won.
“go ahead and spin it, omega. let us know the duel of honour you have chosen for your alpha tonight,” the host croons, and wooyoung feels the hair on his arms stand. the room is so cold, so quiet with the occasional murmur of an elite predicting the outcome. he wonders if the rich people bet on this kind of stuff like horse racing. they probably do. the korean characters swim before him as he gives the wheel a weak turn. three round boxing. arm wrestling. knife fight. russian roulette. waterboarding. tug of war with daggers.
“the wheel has landed on dueling pistols!” the audience cheers, and wooyoung staggers back to his chair. he can’t stomach this. he sees another guard take a set of guns out. oh god no. someone’s going to die, and it’s because of him. this is pure insanity. what the fuck are these rich people thinking? “the rules are simple. everyone here will serve as our ‘seconds’, or our witnesses, you hear? we will have these alphas each armed with a pistol, loaded with one bullet. at the count of three, you both fire.”
wooyoung feels like the lights have dimmed slightly. either that, or his vision is going hazy. the chains are still on his ankles, but the ones around his wrists are gone.
“will the alphas choi san and lee sangyoon step to the front please,” oh. so he was right. this is choi san. this gigantic, muscular guy who’s already shrugging off his massive fur coat that probably costs a damn house. the alpha who had never once left his intense eyes off wooyoung. he flushes at the attention up close. he’s very good looking. wooyoung suddenly feels very small in his seated position, san standing in all his glory with heeled boots, looming over him. his expression is unreadable, but wooyoung smells his sadness. he’s been sensitive with scents, but he keeps this to himself lest they send him to some government facility as a test subject. one of the omegas made the mistake of declaring they had synesthesia, and within hours they were whisked off to some science lab. nobody knows what happened after.
now that sadness turns into something sweeter. san’s releasing pheromones. gentle ones, to calm him. is he hallucinating? the scent description hits his nose like what they wrote in their textbooks about comfort-scents, a type of pheromones that only alphas can emit for omegas to smell. it’s a difficult skill to have, is what their teacher had said, and only an alpha who likes you and has good self control is able to do it. otherwise, wooyoung could find no other explanation as to why nobody seemed to notice the potent scent.
“we meet again, choi san.” sangyoon sneers, “you think i’ll forgive you for taking yeosang?” wooyoung’s heart rate spikes at once. so san bidded for yeosang last year. he hopes sangie is okay. san could easily crush both of them. but if san takes him home, he’ll get to see his sangie again. he needs san to win this. he needs san to take him. “yeosang is doing well, thank you for asking.” then san adds, “always glad i knocked out your tooth last year. you should never have tried to fight me after i won the auction fair and square- yeosang would never deserve to go home with a bastard like you.”
“gentlemen, please,” the host stands between them, wooyoung at the side, curled up in his chair, “no fighting before the match, please.” unbeknownst to them, the rest of the audience has been dispersed. wooyoung’s been too absorbed in taking in the options of his fate, the new information about yeosang.
“if i could make a request, sir?” san asks the host, noting that extra guards have surrounded the room, in exchange for getting the audience to leave. “i’d like my omega to take my place.”
“you want me to die,” wooyoung softly says aloud, feeling betrayed for even letting the slightest bit of his guard down. he feels rage flood in his veins as he gets up from the chair shakily. “you want me to take your place and get shot-”
“please allow wooyoung to be an extension of my arm.” san coolly tells the host, as sangyoon inspects the guns, “my omega holds my gun. but i stand before him, is all.”
there’s a moment of silence as wooyoung processes this. the host is busy getting some sort of approval, whispers passed on to multiple guards like a broken telephone via walkie talkie. a pistol gets thrust into wooyoung’s hand. san gives him a nod, as if to say, go ahead. shoot. i’m leaving the key to your freedom in your own hands.
he stares at the gun. “i don’t understand,” wooyoung breathes, feeling the weight of the gun and its sole bullet, and he glances back at an impassive san. “you wanted your freedom,” san gently murmurs back, “i paid for your ticket to get out. now you need to earn it.”
before wooyoung can yell at him about how cocky his words are and how dare he make such showy gestures and assumptions, sangyoon shouts over with a mocking, accusatory tone. “trouble in paradise so soon, omega? maybe you’re dealing with the wrong alpha?”
as much as he has some issue with san, this other alpha is even worse. he’s ugly and smelly and not at all put together. but wooyoung knows he’s a rich man’s son- the crest of the signet ring says it all. the dressing of exotic skins and furs, the flamboyant jewellery. and something feels off about lee sangyoon. his omega instincts tell him that something is wrong, but he doesn’t recognise what yet.
“aww, sannie, i’m afraid he doesn’t like you… come to me, omega, i’ll show you a good time. your lips would look so good around my-”
“shut your fucking mouth, sangyoon.” san grits, holding one hand out as if to protect the omega. wooyoung keeps mum and doesn’t rise to the bait, stands behind san and realises that he truly is fully covered by his bigger form. san is actually a human shield. he peeks out from the right side, gauging an aim.
“alright. the higher ups have monitored the situation, and it is deemed appropriate. on your marks, alpha and omega- three, two, one- fire!”
the sound of the fired guns go off in succession, and all three of them stagger slightly at the sound and recoil.
the victor is clear.
lee sangyoon has fallen, with blood pooling around him, a bullet straight through his forehead. san’s still standing, expression clandestine. the gun falls from wooyoung’s slippery hands, and san spins around to catch him. everything else is a blur as san’s fur coat is now wrapped around him like a cocoon. san says something to the host, who nods in understanding, and immediately, the auction site is cleared like a planned, masterminded play.
the curtains are closed and the encore is done.
until next year, for the annual bidding to commence.
the way back in the carriage is silent, with wooyoung now dressed in a clean white robe, still covered in san’s fur coat. both of them sitting opposite as the horses diligently carry them back to san’s home.
there’s the neighing and galloping across the cobblestone roads, but wooyoung refuses to look at san. he’s feeling all sort of emotions now. the smell of gunpowder and blood follows them home.
the moment they enter the spacious cottage, wooyoung frowns when san turns the lock.
“where’s yeosang?” he defensively asks, wrapping his arms around himself and the fur coat, as if to protect his personal space. “i’ve sent him away,” san quietly says back. “he’s gone. this house only has two of us now.”
wooyoung doesn’t know what to say. san didn’t even deny or pretend not to know yeosang. so it’s true, he really did bid and win over his best friend last year. while yes, he’s free from the clutches of the shelter and the horrible handlers. but now he’s stuck in a different kind of sticky situation. out of the frying pan, and straight into the fire. did he miscalculate? is this really the lesser of two evils?
san clears his throat to interrupt his train of thoughts. “um, i know it’s hard and you may not trust me, but if you could give me ten minutes- i’ll run you a bath. i’ve prepared clothes for you, and i’ll show you to your room. you don’t have to talk to me. or look at me. i know, this is probably a lot to take in- the others were like this as well,” san gives him a wistful smile. it begets so many more questions for the omega.
why is he being so nice? who are ‘the others’? what the hell did he do with sangie? did he also manage to bid for seonghwa and mingi? where are they? he’s totally different from who he was at the auction. what is he thinking? does he really have a dungeon-
“um. maybe i could offer you something to drink?”
“what if you poison it?” wooyoung bites back at once, before chewing on his lip. what a stupid thing to say. san literally paid eight million won for him. why the fuck would he kill him just like that? even if san was some sort of said sadistic killer, for that price, surely he’d have some fun with him first?
“nah, you’re really pretty. you don’t deserve to die.” then he gives a small laugh as he puts the kettle on, “yet.” the extra word earns him a hiss and scowl from wooyoung, but it does make him feel a little more at ease. oh. so he has a sense of humour. he thinks i’m pretty. and his eyes have softened, now that he’s back home. “i’ll drink whatever you drink. and i’ll drink first, if that appeases you?”
“…fine,”
“i still have some juice… or would you like coffee? tea? recently i bought a really nice berry blend-”
“you’re offering me all of those,” wooyoung stares at him dead in the eye, watching him from a distance, perched on the sofa defensively. “omegas aren’t allowed to-”
“my omega can.” san simply replies, and wooyoung flushes. god, this man is stirring something within him. but he hasn’t been fully cleared as the enemy. let’s still be cautious, wooyoung.
“i have apple juice, orange juice… okay, the milk is expiring, so let’s not give you that. hm, coffee with sugar? or do you take it black? any creamer? for tea, i recommend chai. it’s really nice, this one. i also have ginger tea, which is lovely with honey… i have apple and cinnamon, hm, what’s this here, uh, elderberry and-” san’s actually opening the fridge and cabinets, taking stock and even pulling out the jars of coffee beans and boxes of teabags to show him. like he’s an esteemed guest and san’s hosting him. like they’re friends. coworkers. anything but master and slave.
he’s acting like nothing happened. that just hours ago, they were racking up wooyoung’s net worth into the damn millions. and that someone is dead and wooyoung and san actually stood on the same side in fighting the ostentatious fucker of an alpha.
the kettle whistles, and san fills the water jug. “or do you prefer plain water? iced? if the drink options are not to your liking, i could-”
“coffee.” wooyoung quietly says, trying to silence the thoughts in his head, “please.”
“sure thing. one moment.” san makes two cups of coffee calmly, ignoring the ache in his shoulder. he’ll deal with that later when wooyoung’s in the shower. it should be fine. “let the coffee cool down and then help yourself. i’ll just run the- ngh!” san winces as he touches his shoulder, and it’s only then that wooyoung realises what he saw. how did he not realise the faint wet patch at san’s shoulder? just because he was dressed in black? the veins climbing up from san’s shoulder to his neck are turning purple. no wonder why the coppery smell followed them. how did wooyoung not realise that sangyoon took the opportunity to tamper with the bullet when he was busy bickering with san?
san’s palm comes away bloodied, caked with crusting and fresh blood. san is kneeling now, catching his breath. “ah, e-excuse me, please.”
wooyoung’s instinct moves faster. he rips off san’s shirt, both of them wincing. san at the pain, wooyoung at the sight of the wound. desert scorpion poison. omegas were immune to this species- sangyoon must’ve decided to resort to dirty tricks one way or another, with san as his only target. probably as revenge for whatever the ‘yeosang situation’ was between them. “i can handle this,” san tells him weakly, face growing pale as his veins bloom a dark purple. the poison is spreading. wooyoung has to act fast. “s-sorry ‘bout this, i’m okay. ‘s just a graze, i prom-”
“shut up, alpha,” wooyoung murmurs, before he puts his mouth to san’s shoulder and sucks hard. the blood tastes pure bitter, not at all with that usual metallic tang. he grabs a handful of tissues, spits out the black gooey mess. as much as it’s disgusting, san’s face seems to gain back some of its colour. the purple starts to recede. that’s good. as much as wooyoung has been wanting to escape, he doesn’t need a dead body to bog him down- and this alpha is massive. the dead weight would be unthinkable. his instincts are still to nurture and not to harm. tough, but tender.
“sorry, ‘bit unbecoming of your alpha,” san softly tells him, as wooyoung continues to deftly purge out the contaminated blood. his eyes are half lidded and dreamy- it’s a good sign, wooyoung thinks, because the first step of the poison is its woozy, floaty feeling, before it paralyses you, and then the pain comes. san will be fine. “i owe you my life, wooyoung.”
“you paid a crazy amount.” wooyoung states, matter of fact, “least i could do.” he wipes off the blood from his mouth, and san gets to his feet. “i feel better now. thank you. um, the coffee should be warm by now. please wait here.”
“okay, so the buttermilk bath is ready, i got you some unscented soaps. if you like we could go to get the ones with scents- i don’t know what you like, so i just got the basics. there’s shampoo and conditioner as well, so take your time. i’ve laid out a toothbrush and razor and comb for you as well, and the towels. and pajamas. i’ll show you the rest of your wardrobe tomorrow.” san’s hair is now free of hair wax, and it frames his face cutely. he looks sweet, boyish. not like some grand duke of the north. the glasses had disappeared the moment they returned.
he looks a bit like a cat, wooyoung thinks, still frowning at the verbiage. he gulps his coffee. it’s good stuff, they never got to drink non-water beverages in prep school. the water was sometimes from rusty pipes or unclean sources, so it was disgusting on bad-weathered days.
“why are you being so nice to me.” san only blinks at him. “i’m not going to be your fucking mate or let you fuck me, you know.”
san only goes bright red at the insinuation, frantically waving both hands, “w-wooyoung! i think you’re misunderstanding something here! i- um, well- i do think you’re pretty, but i have no intention of doing anything intimate with you. uh, like..? how do i prove- i mean, i’ve allocated you a room to yourself, if that helps?”
“me?” wooyoung points at himself, “you’re giving me a room?”
“yeah..?” san tilts his head, “i don’t know what you assumed, but yes, so you have your own privacy?”
“oh.” wooyoung still squints at him, mindful that san has been releasing the nice pheromones again, “and are you going to supervise me when i bathe?”
“w-what the hell!” san sputters, “what’s with all these weird assumptions! i swear to you, i’m not some creep-”
“can you… god. where’s the bath, please,” wooyoung calms himself, careful to be cordial. the alpha seems to have done a complete transformation from his first impression, but one can never be too careful. “in here, if you’ll follow me. and this here is your room,” san points to the opposite door, “and this room is mine. i think everything should be laid out already. i won’t disturb you any further. have a good rest. just yell if you need anything?”
wooyoung nods, and with that, san disappears into his room like he promised.
the next morning, wooyoung’s greeted by the smell of something burnt.
“oh! hi, good morning,” san shyly says, glasses back on, in just a tank top and sweatpants. oh, okay. so he’s hot. anybody with eyes can tell. wooyoung spies the stacks of burnt pancakes in the trash, then sees two bowls on the kitchen counter. “um! i bought fresh fruit,” san elaborates, and wooyoung is gobsmacked by the assortment. san’s actually purchased expensive fruits. omegas usually get at most a berry or two as a treat. sometimes an unripe, sour apricot. according to hearsay, the markets wouldn’t even sell omegas strawberries- even if they had the money for it. they usually got the normal stuff, like apples, oranges, pears or bananas.
“we don’t really…”
and here san is, with his fruits collection, even with exotic looking kiwis and starfruit. mangoes. there are berries. peaches. pink guavas. things that wooyoung only knows the names of, because of those encyclopaedias he’s secretly went to see in the library. snuck in at night with a flashlight to satiate his curiosity. “i swear to you, if you say ‘my omega can’ one more time-!” wooyoung huffs, and san puts up his hands in mock surrender. “guilty. but please help yourself. i envision the omega camps weren’t very kind… i think you’d look even more beautiful with some weight. try them with yogurt- and add some honey. i have cereal, if you prefer? i also got you some fresh milk this morning.”
wooyoung doesn’t know how to react. san is really treating him like a member of the household. actually offering him standard alpha fare. hoping that he gains healthy weight and eats properly. san’s even made his morning coffee. like, what is this, if not courting?
“you’re trying to fatten me up before you sell me,” wooyoung grumpily mumbles, as he points at which fruit he wants to try, such that san will cut them for him and place it in his bowl.
“who says i’m selling you,” san murmurs back, focused on the fruits, and whenever wooyoung probes about yeosang, san will clam up.
but whatever, wooyoung has all the time to snoop around. might as well take advantage of the good food and nice bed for now.
it’s been a week, living with san.
it has become less awkward, and wooyoung has assumed his role of chef. he’s opened up a little, telling san his preferences. he doesn’t feel comfortable enough going to the village with san yet, so he lounges in the comfort of the house, sticking to basic cotton tees or pajamas and airy nightgowns. san buys really nice stuff, but that’s just called having money for you.
the one thing that stops him from fully trusting san is how cagey he is about his line of work. how he just stammers and avoids the question, the same way he does when wooyoung brings up other omegas that san should know. san’s an awful liar, and wooyoung doesn’t know if it’s a good or bad thing that san chooses to avoid it (not lying) rather than telling him untruths to soothe him (lying).
that, and how san is up late at night on the landline, talking by the window. he always twiddles with the cord of the telephone, evidently stressed. wooyoung just can’t sleep, or san’s um, too loud. or maybe he’s lying about that. he’s just nosy and curiosity gets the better of him. san’s usually considerate and whispers.
“yes, he’s asleep now. i know… he’s really beautiful, like you said. he asks many valid questions, and i don’t have the heart to answer him…” san sighs into the receiver, “every single dollar was well spent, okay? he’s so sweet. yeah, he looks so gorgeous even when he sleeps. what, no! i just left a glass of water in case he got thirsty, i’m not creeping or spying on him!” wooyoung flushes at the statement. san genuinely thinks he’s beautiful. he’s always been really open about that. he continues to listen. “i hope everything will be ready soon… i know… he probably will be happy to leave, i guess. things are better there. how’s the alpha hunt going? any suitors for him yet, i’m sure there’s plenty..?”
wooyoung blanches when he hears that. everything will be ready? happy to leave? what on earth is san rambling about? so he’s a pimp? is he selling wooyoung to another alpha? what alpha hunt? his chest squeezes uneasily, and he scurries back into the room and downs the glass of water. so san is actually really evil. he’s going to sell wooyoung. no wonder why he’s pampering him with all sorts of nice meat and fruit. he’s really plumping him up just to sell. probably at an arbitraged rate at that. maybe he saw the potential. wooyoung could’ve gone for ten million won.
he’s going to be sick.
wooyoung buries himself under the blankets, willing himself not to throw up.
“i’m afraid that he won’t forgive me for hiding this from him, yeosang. he’s safe with me, that i can promise you. i… i really like him. yeah. he keeps asking about you, and mingi. and seonghwa. i don’t want to ruin the surprise. oh and i did get him some books you mentioned. he likes them! i think he’ll be really happy to see you guys again.”
needless to say, wooyoung doesn’t sleep well after that.
he avoids san, glowers and glares at him. san seems startled by the sudden change, but chalks it up to a change in environment. yesterday night was a bit hotter too. maybe wooyoung’s not used to the sounds of the loud katydids and all that.
“wooyoung? i bought some chicken today, it’s fresh from the village- if you want you can-”
“not hungry,” wooyoung mutters, despite his stomach making a loud growl. he flushes in embarrassment, then san takes the cue to leave. “it’s okay, i have some places to be. i’ll leave the takeout here. there’s some gimbap as well, please dig in while it’s warm. i’ll be out till late, but i’ll get supper for you just in case.” wooyoung looks away, but san still worries. “um, my cellphone number is written by the telephone there. if you need anything, just call-”
“don’t need,” wooyoung curtly snarls, and san backs off at once. okay, maybe he’s just in a cranky mood. “y-yeah, sure. offer still stands. i’ll make a move, ruby. see you.”
wooyoung mopes around, busying himself with the stack of novels san bought the other day. there are comics, classics and romance novels. sap. so san’s the kind of guy that believes in true love and all that. eww. there’s wooyoung’s favourite history book from the library. hm. only yeosang knows about this- maybe just a lucky find. no way san would care that much. maybe it was yeosang’s old books and he missed wooyoung when he was held hostage here too? yeah, that’s nicer to think about.
wooyoung wonders if he would pay more than eight million at an auction for true love. that would be weird. the money hardly goes to the significant other anyway.
“would you pay ten million won for the man of your dreams, san?” wooyoung asks the empty house, book forgotten and placed on his chest. “why would you pay eight million just as an investment? to sell me?”
he decides to maybe wait it out. there’s conflict between how sweet san’s words and actions are to him, versus how he is on the telephone at night. also, his tummy is rumbling. the chicken is calling him. san’s mighty generous with the food he buys for him- he’s not sure if he should feel fond, for being so taken care of. or that he’s embarrassed, because he quite likes the undivided attention san gives him. san is still rather respectful, and draws clear boundaries between them. or is he losing his grip on reality, slowly getting brainwashed into becoming a diamond?
but san’s always cutely calling him ruby like an insider nickname here and there. using sweet pet names on him, unwittingly calling him honey and darling- then he will stop when he realises, and apologise. the reaction itself can’t be pretense- wooyoung can smell his shyness, hear the sincerity in his tone. and the fact that san is always mindful about the smell he releases. if not for the weird relationship they currently have, maybe if it was some sort of arranged marriage or something, then maybe- maybe wooyoung’s heart would have melted a little more. faster. in shambles by now.
wooyoung’s already gone to scout out the toilets and kitchen. san has an array of scent blockers and suppressants, to curb his ruts, ensure he doesn’t go feral while any omegas are in his house. and he has hidden brand new omega supplements for their health, omega nutrition gummies, even things for heats. they’re all hidden in different spots in the house.
books squirrelled away on how to care for your omega, how to take care of an omega in heat. there are annotations and highlighted portions, making wooyoung flush. all you need to know about courtship, how to be a good alpha to your omega companion. even more notes, pointers. san’s gone to such an extent- surely he can’t be that wicked? nothing’s adding up like this.
the rumours have gotten it all wrong. he’s big and scary at auctions and at work, maybe. but he’s always gentle and protective, always holding wooyoung’s waist whenever he can, the small of his back. or at least, to wooyoung’s personal observation. also, it’s not helping that san is so silly- he thinks hiding the books under a potted plant (that barely covers anything) will disguise it. like, it’s just there, in the middle of nowhere. and the stupid colourful tabs are sticking out anyway. how is this idiotic alpha ‘mafia drug lord kingpin’ material?
so maybe he’s not entirely a big, bad alpha. just big. but people are multifaceted. anyway. san is still on probation. nothing’s in the clear yet.
san teaches him to hunt.
teaches him to fish. teaches him to differentiate between edible plants and poisonous wild berries. teaches him how to use a bow and arrow, and even says he will teach him how to ride a horse when he’s ready.
essentially, san is breaking a lot of conventional laws. he’s gifted wooyoung a stiletto dagger as well, for his safety. omegas aren’t technically allowed to wield any form of weaponry, much less learn how to use them. they shouldn’t have any reason to, theoretically, since only alphas and betas ‘have uses’ for such things. it’s not really a written rule that omegas are forbidden to hunt, per se- but it’s just an unspoken rule that town Z adheres to, and has been, for decades.
“i don’t understand,” wooyoung says, balancing the dagger in his hands, “why are you doing all this?”
my omega can.
“you’re a natural alpha, wooyoung,” san will smile at him, teaching him how to hold the thin, sharp dagger, “just keep this with you for your protection.” he’s met with a frown, “but you’re around? and why would anyone want to kill me? i’m not anybody-”
“you’re too pretty,” san murmurs back, tucking wooyoung’s stray hairs behind his ears, “and it’s for your own good. you need these skills to survive. i need to know you’ll be okay on your own.”
“but-” but you’re here, wooyoung wants to say, you can protect me. why are you saying all this? “you can hunt for both of us,” he settles with, “you’re good at it.”
aren’t you always going on about protecting omegas? what’s the fuss now? do you want to protect me or not? what do you mean on my own?
san only shakes his hand, smiling wryly, gliding the lace garter up wooyoung’s right thigh and making sure the stiletto dagger fits there nicely. it fits perfect. good.
“you’ll know when the day comes, i guess. trust your instincts, omega.”
“how’s the bakery? wooyoung would love your bread… yes, he has a good appetite now, i’m glad. hm? apart from the tailor’s, which is run by our deal friend, where might you suggest i buy shoes for him?” san’s on the phone again, busy twisting the cord and jotting down something like an address. “i see, okay… i should be fine to drop by next week. yes, money isn’t an issue… alright! that would be good.”
wooyoung yawns. he only hears the part about dropping by wherever, and that san has lots of money. nothing new then. not much gossip these days. he heads back to bed. the past few phone calls in recent times have also been about business, something about shipments and legal stuff and documentation. yawn. maybe san’s really just an awkward merchant that’s strict on separating business and pleasure. whatever. back to bed wooyoung goes.
“that’s lovely, mingi. yes, i’ll drop by to check on seonghwa and the clothes soon… ah, you and yunho are now babysitting some of the kids yeosang teaches? oh, that’s lovely. sangie’s a wonderful teacher. i hope wooyoung can hurry to meet you all again.”
“wooyoung. you’re not my maid. stop trying to scrub my floors-”
“but i want to do something useful…” san’s been so generous, teaching him all sorts of things, and all he knows is to coop himself up and eat san’s food and take up his space and cling onto him when bored. when san’s out working, wooyoung just can’t sit still.
“how about this. shall i have you go into the woods and pick out edible mushrooms and vegetables? as a test of your new knowledge on foraging.” san looks very amused when wooyoung sticks out his tongue, makes a face.
“eww. i hate vegetables. don’t wanna,”
“but it’s good for you, wooyoung-ah,” san’s eyes are twinkling, like he’s enjoying his discomfort, “you need the minerals and fiber. if you’re good, we can spare you the cucumbers.”
“who do you think you are, my mother?” wooyoung sulks, continues scowling as he crosses his arms, “you know i don’t like mushr-”
“i’m not your mother,” san singsongs, gentle, “but i am your alpha.” he pauses when he feels himself flush at the implication, sees wooyoung go red. “for… now, anyway.”
“y-you-!”
“whose house is this?”
“…”
“whose clothes are you wearing?”
“…”
“whose kitchen do you cook in?”
“…sannie,” wooyoung mumbles back, exasperated, “that’s cheating,”
“so are you going vegetable picking or not? for our dinner?” san hands him a small woven basket, “or is my bratty little omega a freeloader?”
“f-fine!” wooyoung snatches the basket, puffing his cheeks. he’s omega of the year, god’s sake. he’s going to bring back the biggest, bestest vegetables.
just for san.
wait, scratch that- just to prove a point. this is not about san.
he’s so good to the point the basket is quickly filled to the brim, and he still has spare time to pluck some wildflowers home. well, you know, just because they’re pretty. and that san’s always buying him forsythias ‘to spruce up the house’. so why can’t he also ‘spruce up the house’ and put some flowers into san’s hair while he’s at it?
“ah! the clothes are ready! i can’t wait to gift them- he will love them, i’m sure. especially the ones with the ribbons and ruffles? yes, i know… i thought it was cute too…” san’s on the phone again, but today, wooyoung’s sound asleep. he’s tuckered out from fighting stubborn turnips and sweet potatoes, resistant to being plucked from the soil. “i know i promised hongjoong we wouldn’t go over the budget of five million won… yes, i knew jongho would have things to say about it too…” san sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “but every single cent was worth it. really. i truly…” his breath escapes him slowly, “i love him so much, you don’t understand.”
“wooyoung, please…” san wrestles away the dustpan and broom, moves aside all the soaps and cleaning agents. “i told you, you don’t have to-”
“but it feels weird! it feels funny when i’m just given things,” wooyoung pouts, “at least let me earn it?”
san seems to mull over this. then he walks over to the kitchen, holds a bowl of blueberries. he raises a brow, “okay. come and earn it, then.” a blueberry gets wedged between his teeth, tempting wooyoung to pry it away.
and tempted, wooyoung is.
“you’re playing games with me,” he deadpans, eyes sparkling as he takes off san’s glasses, “you have no idea what you’re doing, my silly little alpha,” he wraps his hands around san’s neck, closes his eyes as he kisses the corner of san’s mouth, teasing. san’s throat goes dry, and wooyoung hums in contentment when san makes a tiny whimpering noise- berry still sitting there, pliant with bated breath.
“oh, alpha…” wooyoung softly moans, capturing his lips now. tongue lapping at san’s pouty mouth, licks at his teeth, deftly plucks the blueberry into his own. it’s sweet, obviously. so sickeningly sweet.
“you’re seducing me, woo,” is all san manages to breathily say, to which wooyoung only smugly smiles, playful feline eyes twinkling, “but you started it, san.”
both pairs of eyes fall onto the remaining bowl of blueberries san is holding. san thinks he might faint if they go through the whole bowl like that. wooyoung thinks it’s cute, how san is so transparent and now, so pink. san folds so fast for him, it’s endearing. the big man practically caves and buckles so quickly at the slightest form of affection from him- yet san keeps a very stoic front in public. so this side is… only something people within these four walls get to witness, namely one other person.
it endears him to no end- not that he’s telling the alpha. san already has such a disarming smile, making people swoon at his presence. he doesn’t need this extra information going to his head.
“i think i’m obsessed with you,” san whispers, wooyoung’s arms now wrapped around his waist, sneakily reaching lower and patting his bum at the confession, a playful squeeze. he leans into the embrace, purrs as he settles his head at the crook between san’s neck and shoulder, blueberries forgotten.
“i know, sannie. who isn’t?”
the universe occasionally sends san signs, to affirm that yes, wooyoung truly is the one for him.
san always brings home forsythias- yellow blooms that mean loyalty and devotion, excitement, and new beginnings. since he’s made a trip to town A, he’s brought back special regional blooms. peach blossoms, for love and happiness, irresistible charm, protection and peace to the home.
he’s back earlier today, ahead of schedule, with pretty clothes and new books and perfumes and fresh flowers and pastries. wanting it to be a surprise, san walks stealthily towards the cottage- only to be the one met with another surprise through their open window.
wooyoung is singing.
he’s holding the bouquet of two-day old forsythias in his arms, twirling and dancing about inside the house, singing. looking so pretty, prettier than all the forsythias in the world.
he sings to the birds like a disney princess as he waits for san to return, a little angel in his home. wooyoung laughs as he sees the stray kitten pop by the back door- san and him often leave out food for the cat- he picks the kitten up and kisses it like his baby, yellow flowers swaddled in his elbow. wooyoung, barefoot, in just one of san’s oversized dress shirts used for business affairs, a yellow flower tucked by his ear; humming and waltzing around in their house without a care in the world. full of cheer and song as food boils on the stove, the faint smell of sweet flowers and a spicy lunch. soft peaches are cut, drizzled with honey and awaiting the master of the house’s arrival.
san lingers outside until wooyoung finishes his song, dying of cuteness aggression, then turns open the doorknob and greets him warmly.
so this is love.
when the weekend comes around, san shows him all the tailor made shirts and pants- there’s even a skirt or two, if that’s what wooyoung preferred. silk blouses and cashmere jackets. this is insane. san even bought him shoes, for god’s sake.
“i’ve got you stuff for your feet as well, i hope they fit.” he hands over a pair of heeled loafers, complete with shiny silver buckles, cushioned lining. there are also boots. horse-riding shoes. oxfords. the stuff only rich male alphas wear. you can only wear shoes with a heel if you’re from the upper class.
wooyoung’s stumped. the best omegas are usually only allowed to wear slippers. or maybe flat straw sandals if you had some coins lying around.
“omegas are not-” wooyoung stops the moment he says it, realising that he’s been subconsciously been subjecting himself to society’s stupid rules. why is he even telling san all this?
“my omega can,” san smiles gently, guiding wooyoung to sit as he tenderly takes his feet and guides them into the soft leather. the gesture makes wooyoung’s heart flutter. in school, omegas are taught how to serve. how a traditional omega should do their part to please their partner, to bow and kneel at their feet, to wash their feet without question, to essentially worship the ground they walk on. it’s lowkey degrading, in wooyoung’s opinion- everyone’s a grown up here, so wash your own damn feet, for goodness sake.
it appalls him that omegas are even taught in prep school how to present themselves for their alpha, which positions to be in for an alpha’s pleasure. how to show their holes and clean up and finger themselves just for the sole purpose of pleasing an alpha. the intrinsic mindset behind all of this is so fucking disgusting and twisted.
when engaging in intercourse, shouldn’t both parties be allowed to feel pleasure? why is it deemed ‘right’ for the alpha to knot and come inside without protection, leaving the omega high and dry, or worse, bearing the risk of getting pregnant? or any other physical complications? the system is so flawed it’s fucking ridiculous.
and here san is, on one knee, trying to figure which pair of shoes would suit wooyoung better. subverting all the tropes of how their one-sided, biased society sees an alpha-omega relationship. san is telling him through his actions that partners should be equal. his words aren’t empty, which is a relief.
partners, huh.
“alpha,” wooyoung softly says, feeling his cheeks grow warm, “you didn’t have to. but thank you.”
“only the best for my omega,” san mumbles back, “hope it’s pretty enough for you. you’re so pretty,”
san keeps calling him pretty, it's slowly driving him mad. if he continues saying it, it might go to wooyoung’s head and he might actually fall in love and then he’d fall into the trap of… whatever this is.
what are we, san?
so this is… love..?
he’s gotten all dressed up today because san said there’s a weekend market. everything’s going to be fun and colourful. there’ll be lots of yummy food too.
san tells him to stay close, because he’s not familiar with the place yet, and there’s going to be a lot of people. wooyoung just rolled his eyes because there’s no way- but san is… right. it’s a festive kind of event, with lots of children and shouting and excitement- it further cements the fact that san has never once lied to him since they met. now, that’s dedication. wooyoung has stopped counting the days since they lived together. let more of his guard down. has affirmed himself this is not stockholm syndrome or anything. has admitted to himself he’s fonder of san than he expected.
just him and san, under a shared roof. living comfortably. like they could be-
“what did i tell you about the crowd, wooyoung.” san says smugly, playful rather than cocky, “please. if you would allow me.” he grabs wooyoung’s hand, and the omega feels heat transfer from san’s palms to his. san’s just holding hands with him, bringing him around like it’s normal. like wooyoung is really is partner. he holds on tightly.
before they set off, san even gave him a small pouch with wads of bills inside. buy whatever you fancy, he’d smiled sweetly, alpha wants you to. if it’s not enough, let me know. wooyoung had wanted to smack his forehead. he did an estimate, san gave him about thirty thousand won. this stupid alpha… a candied apple costs sixty won. even a cute hairpin only cost a hundred and eighty won. what on earth would wooyoung be doing with these fucking thousands?!
“san, you’re crazy,” wooyoung shows him the wallet, then pointing at the prices of cute trinkets and such, “why did you give me so much money! what if i lose it? can you just take it back-”
“nope,” san is looking way too pleased at himself as they stroll along, the shimmer in wooyoung’s gossamer top sparkling under the sun’s rays. it’s a sheer white top with a ruffled collar, loose with its buttons down until his navel. the rest of the fabric flares behind and covers his waist nicely, billows in the wind. the pants are flowy and comfortable, and san wears something similar, just in a larger size.
wooyoung’s about to pout and argue before he spots fruits from afar. fresh, juicy looking plums and cherries. there are such big shine muscat grapes! and look, strawberries! san loves strawberries. he zooms off before he even knows it.
“excuse me! how much are-”
“shoo, shoo,” the old woman tuts at him, waving a hand distastefully, “we don’t sell things to omegas. these are exotic, expensive fruits, mind you.”
“but i-” wooyoung’s frowning, holding the purse tightly. he feels indignant. no wonder why san had said to leave the buying to him if the shopkeepers were from age-old stores, for they still harboured that kind of outdated mentality. the festive markets consisted more of travelling sellers, who paid lesser mind to such things. they came and went with the winds anyway, not like sore sticks in the mud. “i have money, madam.”
“doesn’t matter,” the old woman doesn’t even spare him a glance, going back to her newspaper. like he’s not anyone of importance, just because he’s an omega. “wooyoung-ah! where did you- ah, there you are.” san gently pokes at his cheek, “i told you not to go running, there’s a lot of people.”
“sorry,” wooyoung mumbles, wanting to walk away from the humiliating moment, “i got a bit distracted.”
“oh, are you hungry? you want fruits?”
he shakes his head, still upset, “no. it’s okay.” san will probably get mad if he knew what happened. it’s fine. wooyoung just thought it would be nice to get san strawberries. “let’s go.”
san sees his face, always so raw and honest. wooyoung’s eyes no longer shine- it’s easy to put two and two together.
“ma’am,” san curtly says, sensing wooyoung’s discomfort and holding his waist for reassurance. he gestures to all the fruits at the stall, “i’d like to buy everything here, please.”
that seems to be enough to tear her eyes from the newspaper, reading glasses yanked off. “what did you say, young man?” she wrinkles her nose, now starkly aware of his alpha presence. “a-are you sure you can afford-”
“my omega can,” san smiles sweetly at her, sickeningly sweet, that wooyoung has to try hard to hide a smile. “go on, baby. show her your purse.”
“oh come on. the total would be seven hundred and-” wooyoung haughtily slams down a thousand won note, nose in the air as he looks at san, “please help to bag it for us?”
“you can keep the-” wooyoung only presses a finger to san’s lips, “shh, it’s okay. it’s your hard earned money. let’s not put it to waste like that. you can buy me something nice with the change, dear.” san only nods, keens with pride. that’s his omega. wooyoung could easily be mistaken as the upper class, really. he plays the part perfectly.
“also,” san cheerfully takes the paper bags of fruit, and his change that the woman begrudgingly shoved into his hand. “please apologise to my omega.”
“ugh! why the hell should i-”
“because we should have manners, ma’am. maybe he’s not accustomed to the way things work here. but regardless, you should treat my omega with respect, please.” wooyoung goes pink with his eloquence, “after all, my omega is the one buying your entire array of fruits, no?”
“s-sorry, sir,” the woman grumbles out, then proceeds to pull down the shutters. it’s always the young showy alphas that are doing the most. it’s just an omega! must be daddy’s money, tsk.
“san, you shouldn’t have…” wooyoung gently says when they walk off, holding the heavy bags of fruit, “what are we going to do with-”
“fruit platter for breakfast, lunch and dinner,” san only smiles, showing his teeth, “or you could always share some with the pups on the street. a lot of them go hungry, you know. i take them food sometimes if i see them.”
some of the fruit gets distributed to scrawny stray pups, and they sit by the fountain in the town square, eating wooyoung’s shine muscat grapes. “yummy,” he feeds san one, “thank you, san.”
“you deserve it. doesn’t make sense to me how you can’t even buy fucking grapes to eat.”
“no, i mean,” he plucks off another round green globe, “for teaching people to treat me with respect too.” he pops the grape into his mouth, “like, yes, of course it’s courtesy and it should be basic manners, but we live in a society where… you know…”
“so i did good?” san perks up, invisible tail wagging, “was i good, wooyoung?”
the omega laughs at how expectant san looks. like he wants head pats or more words of praise. “yes, you did well, san. thank you, alpha.” all it took was eight words, and it has san all proud and puffing out his chest that wooyoung has to turn away to laugh. san is such a softie, despite his muscular build.
“so, um…” san turns his cheek, tapping at it now, “do i get a reward?”
“w-what are you, a dog?” wooyoung flushes at the implication, “you want a-?”
“yeah. i want one.” san says back, shy, then a frown. “was seven hundred won too little?”
“san! you can’t be fucking serious,” wooyoung punches him in disbelief, “you think i could be bought over with money-!”
“i mean. i kinda did buy you, if you think about it,” san’s voice softens, his expression crestfallen. “sorry- i didn’t mean it like that. i just, um. sorry. ignore me.”
“alpha, c’mere,” wooyoung beckons him to come closer, before giving him a sticky smooch on the cheek. “better?”
“oh! yeah, m-much better,” his hand is still on his cheek, as if to imprint it there forever. “oh my. i- i think my stomach just flipped. oh gosh.”
wooyoung only tosses his head and cackles. san is so, so silly. it makes him want to tease him and bully him even more. “where’s mine?” san stares at him like he’s gone insane. “pardon?”
“i gave you one. it’s only fair you give one back,” he goes back to chewing his grapes, giving san the last one, “since you’re always about equality and ‘my omega can’ and whatever rubbish,” then he bats his lashes, tilts his shoulders to show his collarbones, “unless you don’t practice what you preach?”
“oh. you… you want one?” san continues to stare at him, cheeks rosy, “i could… i-” wooyoung mimics what he’s done, cheekily tilting his face towards san, closing his eyes. san gives him so much cuteness aggression he often wants to bite him. chomp down on his cute cheeks when he makes that thinking-mid-smile face. “whenever alpha’s ready.”
before he can second guess himself, san gently presses a kiss to the beauty mark on wooyoung’s left cheekbone. “my little ruby.” now wooyoung’s using his hands to cup both his cheeks, because it’s hot. his cheeks are burning.
there’s a difference in the way san calls him little one and his little ruby and my little dove, things like that. the handlers used the word to belittle them- moving so slow today, little omega? hurry up, you stupid little omegas, there’s a lot more to clean!
but san uses the word in an endearing, sweet manner. like wooyoung is his little one, something smaller than him that he cherishes. would like to protect on his own accord. a little ballerina safely spinning in his musical box.
san only laughs when he sees how hard wooyoung is squishing his own cheeks, prideful enough not to let san know the effect he has on him. “naw, did i have you actually turning into a little ruby?”
“you wish!” wooyoung hollers back petulantly, secretly relishing the kiss, “y-you-!”
“yes, wooyoung?”
“you stupid man,” he huffs back, not knowing what else to say, “you’re always making me so-!”
“but it’s cute…” san’s trying to hold back his laugh, biting on his lip, “you’re so cute when you get shy. my wooyoungie.” he goes positively redder at the endearment, “makes me happy i get to see you like this. i get to make you like this,”
“you’re so-! so… a-annoying…” wooyoung mumbles back, smiling, because it feels good. feels nice, to have someone that loves you and cares about you. someone that has your back. “and you love it,”
“hm. whatever,”
maybe i’m also a bit obsessed with him, huh.
they walk around for a little more, holding hands even though there’s less of a crowd now. san lets wooyoung play games and toss hoops and pop balloons for prizes. helps him hang the norigae and trinkets he’s won around his pouch. using the spare change and some, buys him a silver barrette with rubies on them, with a matching ruby necklace.
although the shoes are well made and comfortable, wooyoung’s not used to wearing them, and steps on the backs of them to make them mules instead. omegas are more used to being barefoot or merely slippers for torrid terrain. “do they hurt?”
“oh, just not used to-!” balancing the bag of fruits and making sure his now-slippers don’t fall off, wooyoung’s whining at him to put him down. “why? you’re light?”
“it’s not safe, why are you showing off, carrying with one hand-” with a sigh, san puts him down, then crouches. “fine. i’ll carry you on my back. safer?”
“i can walk!” wooyoung pouts, shoving a strawberry into san’s mouth, “stop showing off.”
“and if i want to?” san refuses to budge, chewing thoughtfully, “come on, princess. i know your feet are sore. let me carry you. let’s go home, i’ll run you a bath.”
“i don’t need-”
“alpha’s waiting…”
“…fine,” he hops on, hears san laugh when he backhugs him. “good to go?”
“yeah. move.”
san doesn’t say a word when wooyoung rubs his nose against san’s neck on the journey back, quietly scenting him.
maybe it’s the omega in him, but wooyoung feels restless after a while. there’s only so much one can do in the house alone. his thoughts will eat him alive if he sits still one second more, so he decides to take his mind of things by cleaning the house. seonghwa was right when he said cleaning helps him to relax. you focus on getting the grime out and doing the laundry that you don’t need to overthink if your omega friends are dead or alive.
san gives him free reign to do as he pleases, so he allows himself to indulge in going to san’s bedroom, sniffing around at his things. san smells really good- like, in a protective, warm way. it makes him feel safe. so whenever san’s not around, he lets himself wear just san’s brown fur coat and walk around in a good mood.
and that’s when he notices a secret trap door, half hidden under san’s wardrobe. it’s locked. strange. maybe he’ll ask san about it.
san would tell him, right?
“wooyoung-!”
not to have a damsel in distress moment, but the mud was still damp from the earlier rainshower, and the stepping stool was wedged in an unbalanced position. san’s clothes lines are higher than they have in school.
“oh, um. thank you.” san’s refusing to put him down. the sun is out now, which is why wooyoung thought he could help with the laundry. he’s wearing a little scarf on top of his head, tied under his chin, in case of a drizzle or the heat. a loose fitting robe. barefoot. “you can put me down, san.”
“no. let me bring you inside,” san’s quirking a brow, insistent on letting wooyoung sit pretty. “i didn’t bring you here as a maidservant, wooyoung. this is my house. alpha will do our laundry.” wooyoung flushes, san is actually breaking every single stereotype he’s learnt and seen for himself. this is ridiculous. san is textbook gentleman, the epitome of chivalry. “but i want to make myself useful. i don’t pay rent.”
“you can cook. i know you like the kitchen,” san hums, taking off his scarf, patting his hair, “you tell me what ingredients and cookbooks you want. you can read, yes? alpha will get them for you.”
this is making him swoon in more ways than one. it’s bonkers, san is really- how is san not mated? he has the kind of face you’d want carbon copies of. dream alpha. the kind of face that makes you want to have a dozen pups with. san would be such a darling father. he’d dote on all his pups for sure. no favouritism. spoil them all rotten equally, treat his omega right-
“i’ll cook what you like, even if there are vegetables,” wooyoung softly says, still in san’s lap as the alpha seats both of them on the couch, san’s hands still under his knees and the other supporting his back. “nonsense. the kitchen is yours, you cook whatever you like. i just help to finish the remains.”
san is giving him the kitchen. not banishing him to the kitchen. “you cook, we eat, i wash. end of story.”
“you’re pampering me,” wooyoung says in a tiny voice, not at all resisting how they’re situated. on the contrary, san smells so good, he involuntarily leans in to lie on his shoulder. “you’re spoiling me.”
“it’s just called human rights,” san beams at him, dimples on display, “i like spoiling my omega. let me be.”
“why, are you still obsessed with me?”
san only gives him such a softened gaze his heart goes to mush instantly.
“always, wooyoung.”
wooyoung no longer contests san’s endless terms of endearment.
he buys wooyoung lots of rings, little jewels. watches as wooyoung’s lashes flutter, in tandem to his heart, sees wooyoung’s eyes soften; the way his asymmetrical eyes flit from the jewels to san and back at the glimmering jewels again.
“alpha… you can’t…” not unless you’re courting me? why else would you give me something so lavish and beautiful and expensive? “please, keep this. for… for someone else. someone important.” he swallows, wonders why this feels so funny. makes his heart flutter then clench, pulsate then pause. it’s not like they’re mated. or dating. or courting. they’re not. not anything of that sort. no way. san is… san. and he’s just wooyoung. an omega, from the auctions.
so why?
“keep it for… your omega.”
he can immediately smell a sharp change in san. he’s embarrassed. shy. worried. irritated. upset. back to worried.
“i… um,” he’s evidently flustered, “i- but it’s for you..?” san is going so red, heart hammering so fast it could just fall out of his chest. “if you don’t like it, uhm. i can exchange it..? i’ll take you to the jewellery shop. i’ll let you- you can choose-” san is frowning and rambling now, in extreme distress. his scent has soured, and wooyoung swiftly puts a soothing hand to rub at his arm, in reassurance. in return, san can smell him, something floral and sweet, like honeysuckle and tangerine. pheromones. calming omega pheromones.
it’s for you, wooyoung. it’s a courting gift. are you rejecting it? do you not like me? did i choose the wrong thing? did i misread what the guidebook said? should i have asked?
“sannie, alpha,” he softly says, almost a purr, “i like it. don’t panic, it’s nice. i just thought… well, that maybe there might be someone more important than me, um. maybe? one day? so you should keep-” san’s just blinking at him, face scrunched, shaking his head vehemently. “there isn’t. i mean, as of now. nobody else comes to mind.”
wooyoung just stares back, warm hands tenderly caressing san’s cheeks, forcing him to make eye contact. “okay. thank you, san. it’s really pretty. i accept it- i like it. don’t be upset,”
“‘m not upset,” san pouts, sulky, “so you’ll keep it?”
“yes, i think i will.” the rings fit so nicely on his fingers, ruby and emerald and sapphire. “it’s so gorgeous, alpha. this must’ve cost a whole-”
“gorgeous things for my gorgeous omega,” san whispers back, their faces so close their foreheads and tips of their noses touch, and wooyoung can feel san’s cheeks turning warm under his touch, the cool metal rings juxtaposed against san’s hot honey skin. my gorgeous omega. san’s always saying these things, it gives him so many butterflies. my omega. it makes a part of him preen, happy and satisfied. makes a part of him worry, because he doesn’t know what to do if san disappears from his life, or if he takes another omega home the next bidding.
“thank you,” wooyoung simply says, pressing a tiny kiss to the corner of his lips, “alpha of the year.”
then he disappears into his room, leaving san rooted to the spot to take in what just happened.
there’s a curious black kitty staring at him by his bedside.
“your bed is big,” wooyoung states, coming over in his pajamas, hugging a pillow. “oh yeah? it’s the master bedroom.”
“your bed is big,” wooyoung repeats. hm. so his alpha’s slow on the uptake. he should try another angle. “will you take a hint, alpha?” he points at the empty space, accusatory, “lots of space. there.” the rings stay on, always. the jewels glisten in the moonlight.
“oh! o-okay, taken.” he tosses aside his blanket, gestures to the ‘lots of space’ besides him.
“so… what’s taken?” wooyoung tilts his head, faux innocent, and san smiles, feline. “me. i’m taken… by you,”
wooyoung pretends he doesn’t hear it, dives in and snuggles up next to him. “i know sometimes you come to check on me and kiss me good night,” he softly murmurs against san’s shoulder, letting out a content sigh, “jus’ returning the favour. g’night, alpha.”
he kisses san’s cheek and goes to sleep, unbothered by the chaos he’s caused to the person he’s sharing the bed with.
as usual, san goes away for a few days for business. he tells wooyoung he is free to do as he pleases, save for his parting words of just please. don't go into the basement.
the moment the coast is clear, just as told, wooyoung heads for the basement.
it’s locked. he takes the hairpin san had gifted him, pries at the lock for a while until it gives. slowly trudges down the short flight of steps. he switches on the light and gasps at the shelves of folders. dossiers, all neatly sorted. a study table with a large message board across the wall, filled with photos and newspaper clippings and red string pinned, linking each source like those evidence boards.
and then, in the corner, a cardboard box. for wooyoung, it plainly says, and said owner scrambles over. his hands are shaking. there are letters. for him. from seonghwa, from mingi, from yeosang.
how the fuck does san have all of these? and he hid them from him. he didn’t tell him at all. he gingerly picks up the photographs. they’re all smiling, healthy and happy. all with another person- seemingly their partners. or someone they are comfortable with, looking at their faces and body language. wooyoung’s just reeling in shock. this, and the entire racks filled with what? intel? information? on who and for what? why? what is san really doing? what else has he been hiding?
he screams when he sees the framed photo on the table. the tears come before he knows it. san is scaring him. why the fuck does he have a photo with his parents in it?
who the hell is choi san exactly?
it’s dark when san returns. close to nightfall.
“wooyoung? i’m home! where are you… wooyoung?”
he’s numb. holding onto the photo of his parents. sitting huddled by the laundry. the trap door is left pulled open. he has no reason to conceal his actions. it sickens him that in times like this, he’s still wearing san’s stupid fur coat.
“wooyoung?” san bursts through the door of his room, immediately realises what had transpired while he was away. to think everything was going swimmingly well. “you went into the basement,” san states aloud, then sighs. he knew he couldn’t keep it from wooyoung for long. he’d find out eventually. wooyoung’s a smart cookie, he’s not someone who would be easily fooled- not to mention, san is weak for that face. he’d never, ever lie to wooyoung.
wooyoung’s not in his room either. not in the kitchen.
“wooyoung-ah! where did you go?”
his belongings are still here. the money, the purse, his favourite clothes. he can’t have disappeared like that, right? seriously, not when the documents were almost ready.
“there you are,” he says, finding a listless wooyoung by their pending laundry of the week, “woo-”
“don’t come near me,” his eyes are shining with defiance, the sharp stiletto dagger held defensively against san, “you taught me to use it. don’t think i’ll go soft on you.”
“i… oh, wooyoung- please put that away- that’s dangerous. i can explain-”
“you have been hiding things from me,” wooyoung states, blunt, “you lied-”
“i have never once lied to you,” san corrects, glasses tossed aside, before adding in a melancholic tone, “and i’m sorry for hiding things from you. please allow me to explain myself before resorting to anything rash?”
so. allegedly wooyoung’s friends are all in town A- where it’s safe and they don’t have such draconian and insane laws. it’s about a four hour train ride away, or you could take a boat and row for half a day. san had personally escorted them there, and solemnly vouched for their safety.
“whenever i rescue an omega and have them sent safely to town A, i ask them a question,” san softly starts, both of them crouching awkwardly by the undone laundry, “i’ll ask them if there is any other omega they’d like me to get out of that horrid place.”
wooyoung knows where this is going.
he’s heard that the rules of the bidding each year change, depending on the committee’s discretion. sometimes, they introduce additional clauses such that certain rich men get to bid on more omegas, with no limit. on other occasions, they have a strict one-omega policy, or a cap on the bidding amount. there was one year that the government was not doing well financially and there was a population imbalance- the warped solution was for each attendee to be forced to bid for a minimum of two omegas, with an inflated minimum bid price. the more omegas they took home that year, they’d get subsidies or perks. tax evasion. extra rallying for elections. it was sickening.
“i know you’ve seen the pictures, wooyoung. i didn’t… mean to hide it from you. but you’re intelligent. i think you know what i’m driving at,” san takes a loud exhale. okay. this is really happening. “seonghwa showed me your photo. i thought you were beautiful, but you didn’t show up at the following year’s bidding. then it was mingi, and then yeosang. and all of them, they asked for me to find you. to help you,”
wooyoung feels the tears trickling down. he knew deep down that his friends would never forsake him like that. he was right. they’ve held on, and they’re now leading better lives. safe. happy. this is good news. he should be relieved. and yet-
“and then i saw you this year.” san licks his lips, fidgeting, “i mean, regardless of whether or not you were someone dear to them, i think… i think i would’ve still bidded for you. i saw your file, even before. sorry. grades aside, charisma and character aside…” san wears an uncomfortable expression as he tries to figure out the words, “i hope this doesn’t sound pathetic or stupid to you, but you… you were just so pretty i couldn’t look away. and of course, i’m not crazy to want bid for you just to fuck you or something. that’s ridiculous. i swear i didn’t search for you just to forcefully mate you or whatever you were thinking at first. that’s disgusting and inhumane and immoral- but i just, i thought it would be nice to have you in the house for a bit, you know? it gets lonely sometimes. and your face just… your face makes me happy..?” wooyoung’s been quietly watching him as he explains, watches as san is teary eyed and doing his best to speak clearly, holding in his sobs. his voice is breaking, like his and wooyoung’s hearts both are.
“but don’t worry. i’ve made the necessary arrangements. your new identification and passport should be ready in less than two weeks! isn’t that great!” he watches as san tries to maintain a brave front, a sweet dimpled smile. watches the fat tears cling to his lashes. “you’ll get to see your friends again. isn’t that lovely, wooyoung? i wanted to give you that cardboard box as a farewell present, so you could read them on the way to town A. you were looking forward to meeting them, weren’t you?”
the omega doesn’t know what to say. he’s actually rendered speechless. so this was what san was saying on the phone- that he’d wanted to send him away. to help him. all that teaching and hunting, so he would be able to survive.
all without san.
the silence nestles between them, on the cusp of comfortable yet unsettling.
“and what about you, san?”
“me? what do you mean, me?” he’s blinking away his tears, hoping that wooyoung won’t notice it. wooyoung’s eyes are all red, his lips chapped and bitten raw. “y-your lips,” san falters, trying to make a sorry excuse to leave, “i’ll get you some lip salve-”
“alpha,” wooyoung quietly says again, nose runny, “what will happen to you when i leave?”
“i- i’ll be okay, of course- what do you mean.” san quickly distracts himself by getting the pot of balm. he even fills a glass of water to buy more time, before handing both over, “like we’ve established, i’ve transported many of your kind over, to start their lives anew. if you’re worried about me getting caught, it’s nothing… i know the dangers of-”
“you’re avoiding my question!” wooyoung wails, going over to hit him, “are you really okay with me leaving you, san? are you okay to just hand me over to some random alpha and-”
“no,” san quietly whispers, “no. i… i wouldn’t be okay.”
“then why are you making this decision for me?” wooyoung glares at him, blowing his nose into some tissue, “this is a big fucking deal! why the fuck do you think it’s okay to send me away-!”
“i’m not sending you away, honey,” san gently tucks his omega’s hair behind his ears, “it’s just the better option for you. you have big dreams and you want to pursue culinary education. learn how to write essays and read books. adopt pups. you can eat all the peaches and grapes now. you can have your own little garden to grow herbs and flowers. you can do all of that in town A, wooyoung. so you must go.”
wooyoung’s using his shaky fingers to gently dab at san’s face. oh. he’s also crying. he didn’t realise.
“you say all of this as if i would be happy without you.” wooyoung’s sulking now, tears free falling, “you gave me pretty clothes and rings and shoes and you keep going my omega this and my omega that and you treat me like a princess and you really think your omega is going to feel so good about being sent away and being apart from his alpha and-”
“what?” san grabs his hands, “i’m sorry, what did you-”
“i said-!” wooyoung huffs, raising his voice, “i said, i’m already emotionally bonded to you, why do you want to separate me from my alpha-!”
“oh stop it, jagi,” san leans in, breath laboured, “you have no idea what it does to me when you say that, wooyoung,” he leans his nose close to wooyoung’s neck, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses, nosing at his scent gland. “stop teasing alpha, please.”
“y-you’re the one who- ah-” wooyoung almost moans when san sucks onto the skin at the base of his throat, “you called me j-jagi first-”
“but you are, sweetheart,” he can feel san’s pheromones all over him now. san is scenting him, marking him all over, in an olfactory sense. “and you looked at me that way. i could never, ever resist that pouty face, the one with the sparkly eyes,”
“what are you talking ab-” san’s busy lapping at his neck, sucking at all his prominent veins it drives him insane. san’s emitting so much smell it is making him mad. smells of enamoured arousal. “san, you’re fucking crazy,”
“i’m crazy for you, honey. when you speak to me like that, looking at me with those eyes,” he continues on his way, languorously lapping at wooyoung’s skin, sucking little blooms across his throat, down to his clavicles, “i want to claim you. i told you, i’m obsessed with you- i want to mark you all over-”
“then do it,” it’s a throaty whisper, “do it, san. take me.”
there’s a lapse of silence between them.
san is torn between doing it, because then he would never want to part from his omega. he didn’t know he would become this attached, and that wooyoung would even reciprocate. he knew from his omega friends that wooyoung was a man of excellent character, easily swayed if he liked you, but stubborn when he made up his mind.
“can i say something mean? it pleases me to know that i’m not the only one that’s emotionally attached. i feel like i’m going insane.”
the kisses get sloppy, wooyoung holding on for dear life when san picks him up and speeds to the master bedroom. one thing about wooyoung, is that he loves to kiss.
“bed. now.”
he never realised that wooyoung’s not clothed, except for undergarments and his brown fur coat. the one that he refuses to let san wash because he likes the smell. the coat from the first day they met. that alone, the rings that never leave his fingers, and the garter on his thigh with the dagger. wooyoung’s gained healthy weight now, the lace pulls taut against his skin. san wonders if he still has time to buy him another.
all that’s left on his chest is the little ruby butterfly, its wings winking and fluttering as the light hits it. wooyoung, his little butterfly, that he desperately wants to keep and admire, but has to let go of, for his own sake. for his happiness.
“my pretty baby,” san kisses him tenderly, and something about that last word flips a switch within wooyoung.
they’re having sex because san is saying his goodbyes.
san still fully has the intent of handing him to someone else. his new documents are due soon- no, this can’t be. wooyoung needs to do something, something drastic to make san stay. san’s clothes have already accumulated as a pile by the bed. that man does things so suavely with only one hand, buttons casually undone.
all tangled up, we switch positions- talk about dangerous attraction, my body sinks even deeper, i’m falling-
with sheer determination, wooyoung flips their positions, newfound strength pushing san into the bed instead. holding in his sobs, he’s already wet enough to take san inside. he forgoes any sort of protection, grabs san’s veiny cock, presses the tip against his hole, and then braces himself for the pain. he winces at the sudden thick intrusion, feels himself clench, then adjust. for once, he’s ruefully thankful for prep school. he finds purchase against san’s chest, sinking his palms deep, squeezing san’s pecs- his own butterfly across his chest ricocheting as he finds a pace to start canting his hips. gyrating them in a way he knows will leave san wanting more.
tell me that you taste the rush- i know you feel it just like me. that look you give is too much; i don’t need another option, just keep me wrapped inside your hold. i want you to stay. let me do my thing on you and-
wanton moans escaping his lips like a plea, the butterfly around his neck desperately hovering above san’s eyes, a hypnosis pendulum. wooyoung doesn’t even notice when san bites the ruby butterfly, grip on his waist tightening in hopes he will stop. he’s involuntarily shivering, san’s fingers tracing his body.
“wooyoung- wooyoung, please- what’s happening, love?” san’s face is a meld of pleasure and utter concern. wooyoung’s sniffling now, and he doesn’t like that. why is he crying? god, this is- this is wrong. it feels illegal, to see someone he loves wear such pain on his beautiful face.
“omega, please- talk to me, woo-”
“n-no, alpha, i have to- you can’t leave me if- if you put a baby in me-” wooyoung pants, chasing his high, riding him faster and feeling san start to swell inside him, “yes, good alpha- ah, i’ll be good- please, hng, ah-! give- ngh-! give me your co-”
“wooyoung, what are you talking about? you can’t get pregnant-” san’s propping himself up with his elbows, trying to ease wooyoung off his cock, but the omega is adamant and petulantly clamping down on his throne. wooyoung’s so fucking wet. moving like the sheath of his dagger on his thigh, buried tip to hilt. he glides, ministrations smooth. effortless, if not for the agony and arousal on his pretty face.
“your omega can,” wooyoung says, eyes laden with so much sorrow and beauty, lips swollen, all sweaty and flushed. the paradigm of erotic beauty. “wooyoung, listen to me-”
“if i have your pups you won’t leave me, sannie-” wooyoung wails back, delirious, and san takes this opportunity to lift him away from his abdomen and curl him close to his chest instead. “sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re talking about. did i go too far? are you feeling okay?” wooyoung’s slippery slick shines like gloss down his thighs, and he’s thrashing about, unhappy that san is caging him down with sheer strength. he’s spent. wooyoung doesn’t have energy left to fight. san gently wipes away his tears, wooyoung squeezing his thighs together in shame, in embarrassment.
“what good am i if i can’t even please you? is that why you don’t want to keep me..? i- i’m omega of the year, san- i’ll be obedient, i’ll be really good, i promise-” wooyoung’s fervently kissing his lips now, eyes brimming with more tears, “i promise, i’ll let you fuck me whenever you want- if i have your baby, you won’t go, right? come and fuck me, then you won’t send me away- you say it all the time, your omega can-”
“wooyoung, please, i-”
“ngh, ahh-!”
he’s left with no choice.
“omega.”
wooyoung shivers when san raises his voice slightly. he’s never done that before. it snaps him out of whatever clouded him prior.
“come here, beautiful. don’t say those words.”
it’s suddenly so very cold now, even if san’s voice is warm. wait. he can’t even carry pups. is that why san wants him gone? is that why? even san is clearly attracted to him? even though they’d unknowingly formed an emotional bond? even after he’s been saying so many lovely things and always telling wooyoung he’s so pretty? it hurts, it really hurts. everything is hurting.
“i’m sorry. i’m sorry-” san’s kissing away his tears now, hoping it will calm him. wooyoung’s scent is going haywire, it’s an explosion of different smells in bursts. sweet then bitter, then sour, then spicy. and back to sweet now.
“wooyoung, i’m going to get you a towel and water-”
“no-! don’t leave me- i don’t know what i did wrong, but please don’t send me away to another alpha, please, jagi-”
“i love you, wooyoung. why would i do that?” san’s eyes are equally teary, wetness on the verge of spilling out, “please stop crying, jagiya. i love you. let’s take some deep breaths. i’m not leaving, shh. you did nothing wrong. we can adopt pups, okay? but i can’t knock you up biologically, you know that. please don’t cry. is this about pups? if you really want kids, alpha will find a way. hush, don’t cry, my love. alpha will provide, alright, whatever you want. i love you.”
my omega can.
the warmth of san’s hands comforts him, and wooyoung eventually manages to catch his breath. he puts his head on top of san’s chest, counting his steady heartbeat. god, the amount of things wooyoung makes him feel by merely breathing and existing.
“better?”
“mm.”
“i’m not sending you away, woo. please don’t ever think that.” wooyoung closes his eyes, resets the counter in his head again. “i don’t know what overcame me. i’m sorry, san. i didn’t mean to- my heat is nearing, maybe i took a lower dosage of suppressants? i’m sorry, alpha. i promise, i didn’t mean to-” wooyoung chews on his lower lip, “are you going to spank me?”
“what! fuck no-!” san looks horrified at the mere thought of laying a finger on him. “you were made to be loved and cherished. not hurt, little one.”
“you love me.” wooyoung suddenly says, san’s previous words sinking in as they lay there, skin to skin. “you said you-”
“yeah. i do.” san softly kisses his hair, “you think i’d go house hunting and choose the cottage nearest to a vineyard for you if i didn’t? i’ll give you all the grapes you want, honey.”
“san.”
“mm?”
“i… i love you too.”
wooyoung’s still splayed on his chest, not looking at him, but san can hear the blush in his voice. it’s so cute. he doesn’t know if it’s placebo, but he can feel the warmth of wooyoung’s apple cheek against his skin. “i love you, san.”
“i know, baby. by the way, did it hurt? like, um. is any part of you hurting?” he doesn’t know how else to phrase you grabbed my dick and shoved it up your ass and that was phenomenal- but i have no idea how that didn’t hurt? did you produce that much slick? can i taste it? are you sure it doesn’t hurt?
“i’m okay,” wooyoung mumbles, san still only seeing the mop of his black, damp hair. feels wooyoung’s pouty lips brush against his sternum when he speaks. his finger, tracing circles onto san’s tummy. “did you… finish?”
“mmh? to be honest, i have no idea. i just care if you are feeling okay. it breaks my heart to see you cry.” wooyoung slowly clambers up, cups his cheeks and kisses him gently. “i- we can continue, you know. sorry… for scaring you. i’m really okay-”
“don’t force yourself, please- i’m more than happy to just wash up and sleep. we haven’t properly shared a bed before from the beginning. this is pretty nice.”
“no i-!” wooyoung’s voice suddenly goes loud, then bashful, “i wanna make you feel good too, darling.”
“oh, my little angel,” san coos, kissing him softly, “what did i do to deserve you?”
you treated me with respect. gave me my autonomy and authority even before i asked, san. you loved me before i even knew i loved you.
“you bidded,” wooyoung laughs, “and you gave me the gun. you let me shoot regardless of the outcome. because you would’ve taken that bullet for me.”
did i ever tell you i fell in love with you the moment i saw your photo, wooyoung? the moment i saw you stand on that auction podium, i already knew.
“wooyoung…” he gently lays him down on his back, taking his time to marvel at the halo cast by his long hair, “my gorgeous baby.”
“i’m okay, sannie- i promise. if you want me on all fours, i can do it, really- i can-” wooyoung knows he’s said before that it’s so fucking humiliating, the things he’s been taught to do. that he despises it. but for san, he would.
he would’ve done anything.
“what, and ask you to present yourself to me?” san scoffs, frowning, “you’re not a dog. sometimes the idea of burning the whole omega prep school comes to mind. many times. that fucking obedience handbook, especially. whole load of crap,” then his eyes soften, “you’re a cute baby kitty that deserves to be pampered. please don’t believe what they teach you. i like you like this, lying down next to me. or beneath me- or if you prefer, on top of me. whatever it is, just make sure i can see your pretty face. it deserves to be seen.”
“s-san!” it’s always a delight to see wooyoung get flustered. “you cannot say such things-!”
“you told me to put a baby in you, wooyoung-ah,” san gently says, teasing, “you said we won’t stop until you take it all… you said you’d let me fuck you whenever..?”
“i… hmph. i did say that,” wooyoung chews on his lips, and san has no idea which wooyoung he’s speaking to now. his diamond side, pliant and wide eyed like his left, big and double lidded. beckoning him to come make love, give him all the kisses, all the cutest babies; twins, triplets. the left, to be ravished and worshiped and serenaded and ardently adored.
or the right, monolidded ruby side. sultry. beguiling. sexy. beckoning him to come hither, rise towards the bait and fuck him good. teasing him into fucking him so hard and fast he can no longer walk tomorrow. the right side, where his weapon is kept. the allure of danger, of walking a precarious tightrope, not knowing what wooyoung’s next move might be; shy or coquettish or a mix of both. like a little vixen laying in wait, sly yet sensual. wooyoung’s duality is fucking crazy. no wonder why he’s the only ruby to have made it out on top. his little blood diamond.
my omega can.
“you always honour your word to me, so i should honour mine too. that’s only fair. you can have your way with me, san. i’m yours anyways. do whatever you want-”
“so… seven days a week?”
wooyoung flushes such a beautiful ruby red. “if- if that’s what alpha wants…”
“oh, my little love…”
san decides they have all the time in the world, and makes love to him, all the way until dawn breaks.
wooyoung doesn’t break, because san is there to hold him close and make sure there’s proper clean up and aftercare. he’s well taken care of, don’t you worry.
we are, after all, talking about omega of the year.
san is so romantic and takes his own sweet time with the foreplay that it makes wooyoung go deranged, in the bestest of ways. every touch is a caress, every whisper sincere praise dripping with sticky-sweet honey; san is so, so gentle it makes you feel like you’re disintegrating and melting all at once. wooyoung never knew sex could feel this good- the way everyone put it was like omegas were just a quick fuck, holes meant to be used and abused strictly for an alpha’s pleasure. san is so, so fucking romantic, always making sure to ask him if it feels okay, if he’s hurting, if he should go faster or slower.
san actually fucking carries him to the kitchen while he’s still inside so they can have a water break. so that they won’t be separated, and wooyoung won’t get dehydrated. feeds him raspberries to nibble on while they’re there.
san makes him feel like he’s desired, talks to him in such an erotic, breathy, teasing manner that he’s leaking nonstop; looks at him like he’s really a big fucking deal, a star. wooyoung drips with want, pools with arousal. san doesn’t mind how loud he is- loves it, in fact, the way he smirks at wooyoung and pistons even deeper at how salacious, how obscene wooyoung looks and sounds, writhing beneath with no restraint whatsoever. all with those beautiful coquettish eyes.
one side of san looks at you like he wants to do his best for you and court you and ravish you; the other side of san and his firm, secure words and actions makes you so fucking wet you crave for more. san walks and acts and talks in a way it makes wooyoung believe that he really could be the prettiest person in the world. like he is a superstar, like he truly deserves this. deserves to be worshipped and held tenderly and kissed silly.
so, this is love.
“i didn’t know you were this loud,” san raises a brow, shirtless as he makes them coffee, and wooyoung winces when he realises how sore his body is, even after sleeping for so long. san’s back proudly displays an insane amount of angry, red scratches, coupled with crazy looking bite marks. ah, so that’s my masterpiece. good afternoon to me. their scents have melded into one, and mixing with the aroma of coffee beans, wooyoung’s nose is deeply sated and pleased.
watching wooyoung shuffle around, hiding his limp because he doesn’t want to give san that satisfaction, san’s more than happy to carry him all day. princess treatment is mandatory, apparently. san had tenderly rubbed some sort of lotion all over him after yesterday’s activities, so nothing hurt too much- he’s even more pleased to see his omega with a beautiful post-coital glow.
you were so sexy, making all these faces and that whiny, pouty mouth of yours- that tongue, good god. i must’ve stopped a third world war in my past life. saved every damn country.
so of course he’s very happy to be feeding wooyoung as they laze around. kissing while eating fruits mouth to mouth, or whatever.
they’re still lying on the couch as a puddle, wooyoung’s head on san’s lap. san looks at him with so much adoration it secretly kills him inside.
“i still haven’t discussed the other photo with you. i think you might get a kick out of this one.”
wooyoung always knew his dad died when he was young, because people set fire to the hospital he worked at. an unfortunate accident, the ‘official’ headlines said, but his mother never believed it. she was a nurse, his father a doctor. because of routine health checks and medical procedures, both parents became acquainted. san’s parents held government positions, and were in good positions to obtain confidential information and disseminate them to undercover agents. therefore, the money that san has, in a form of inheritance, is money they had slowly stolen from corrupt politicians; one robin hood act at a time.
“so… if you’d like to think about it simply, the joint effort of your parents and mine and some others, allowed me to buy your freedom. it’s just that, i got a bit carried away, too besotted by your beauty. so i paid three more million in advance for that. also, you should be pleased to know that sangyoon is the descendant of the bastard that caused the demise of our parents. his parents set fire to the hospital your father worked at- i only found out the night before the bidding. it only felt right to let you pull the trigger,” san nods as he recounts, never once regretting that impromptu decision, “i knew you were good at shooting, even if omegas aren’t allowed to or whatever. your file stated you got a warning for it. it’s in your blood, wooyoung. based on what i gathered from what’s left of old journals and diaries, you’re the spitting image of the fireball your mother was. i like to think of it as our parents giving us their blessings, with that last ten million won. we still have about two, to get you started up in town A.”
wooyoung remains in silence as he chews on the lemon tart san feeds him, allowing himself to digest both the food and these new tidbits. this is rather overwhelming. he did have his own suspicions, but hearing it from his lover, about the woman he admired the most in the world, made it even more bittersweet. it’s a toiling and noble life she led, all while still being humble and kind. san has such a way with words, such a way of seeing the world in romanticised yet still realistic terms. without getting carried away, rooted in his values, yet positive and hopeful.
“based on what my father told me before he passed, he promised eunkyung ssi his own descendants would take care of hers. they made a pact, did you know? they were in it for the same cause of the greater good, but their bloodline would not be forced into it. when i saw you, i swear i didn’t know you were eunkyung ssi’s son, initially. it was only after more digging and probing that i found out- and by then i already… you were in my house singing and dancing and i… i would’ve continued to love and protect you from afar, even if things went wrong.”
wooyoung’s still at a loss for words. there are layers and layers to this that he feels nostalgic, dizzy with heartache. there’s closure. finally. he knew his mother did everything in her hold to protect him, even in her final moments. left him in the care of the universe, tucked away in the most secure place of emergency care, so he would be found- with all the blessings she had left in her.
he holds onto san, arms flung around his neck tightly. nose pressed against his scent glands, to give and receive comfort at the same time. softly kisses san’s skin in tiny pecks. he hopes that his actions, his eyes- they could all convey things that his mouth and brain aren’t able to articulate at the moment. he’s always been so loved, that much he knows. it was written in the stars.
thank you for loving me. for everything.
san holds him. gives him time. san’s been in the know since his own parents’ health deteriorated. had the luxury of being there to note their last words, carry out their final wishes. but wooyoung didn’t. he’s strong, and he’s handling the news and loaded statements with so much dignity and grace, that san feels proud. he hugs wooyoung back, steadfast, securely.
thank you for letting me love you. for everything.
san remembers, clear as day, the moment he knew.
“please, san. promise me- you have to get my baby wooyoung out of there,” seonghwa slides him a photo, tapping at someone with a bright smile. “i’m counting on you, san. i know you’ll help.”
“he’s so gorgeous,” san whispers, caressing the photo, “he’s so pretty, seonghwa. oh my goodness.”
“i know. and this is mingi, and this is yeosang. all three of them. they’re the same age, but you know the facilities. they cite it goes by age, but they twist and turn the rules to their own liking. as long as they get out, everything will be okay,”
“yeah. they’re all pretty, your friends. but this one-” that was the photo that started it all. “i promise you, seonghwa. i’ll help you find them and deliver them here safely.”
san tells him he’d like to take a picture to display in the new house. at the same time, they can send one to his friends, firstly to seonghwa. the documents will be ready in about six days.
wooyoung finally has a reason to put to good use the red lipstick, powder and rouge he bought from the village. the packaging was pretty. and san said he could buy whatever.
“close your eyes, san.”
wooyoung begins smooching him all over, leaving bright red lipstick marks everywhere, even down his jaw, by his earlobes, his entire neck, the exposed parts of his chest the shirt shows.
“good alpha.” wooyoung smiles, pleased with his handiwork, lipstick smudging his face like nobody’s business. “so pretty.”
“wooyoung,” san chides, dizzy with the amount of kiss marks he spies in the mirror, “you have to wear clothes…”
“don’t wanna,” the omega pouts, “wanna show off the marks you made. you said it’s pretty-”
“wooyoung, please…” san sighs, despite his alpha keening within, “it’s improper-”
“so it’s improper, but you made so many?” wooyoung challenges, smug grin on his face, “if it’s improper why did you-”
“give me your lipstick.” san is faster than he expected. he makes his way across wooyoung’s angelic face, mirrors the process down his body. wooyoung’s tummy, in particular, gets so many kiss marks wooyoung feels damp and flushed and pleased. san’s about to spread his thighs to leave even more marks when wooyoung tugs at his hair, cutely scolds him to stop. he’s still refusing to wear anything.
“do you really want to show seonghwa who’s the biter between us?” san starts deftly unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, giving him a very dramatic sigh. ugh, the damn eyebrow thing and the damn glasses. “okay. i guess if my omega wants to show-”
“no-! sannie-! ngh, put your shirt back on- okay, fine! you win,” wooyoung disappears, takes his favourite fur coat (san has bought and scented a new one for him, in grey) and shrugs it on loosely. he even tosses on san’s glasses. he figured out since the start that they were non-prescription. san only wears them to look intimidating in his line of work. they look more sexy than scary, but hey, who’s complaining.
“…fine, ‘m wearing all your stuff. happy?”
san smiles at the pout, all his pearly whites showing. “good boy.”
“even when you’ve been mean,” wooyoung rolls his eyes, even though he’s clinging onto san’s arm like a koala. both of them look so silly with all the kiss marks, but hopeless romantic seonghwa would probably love it. and kissing aficionado yeosang would live for this. maybe they should also give mingi a copy while they’re at it. yunho could reenact it. “even when you-”
“ah- there, there, angel. i’ll kiss you down there all you want later, take sexier photos for our house. but we need to send seonghwa a photo first.”
san later heads to the post office with his very proud omega, face still generously lathered in red lipstick marks. wooyoung had immediately scrubbed off the lipstick stains on himself, because he said it was sloppy (too possessive) and san should do it properly in the bedroom tonight (make them last). whereas san is stubborn and refuses to wipe the kisses off his face (too proud and happy to parade them), until wooyoung threatens to not eat dinner (not allowed!) and starts fussing. only then does san say okay to washing them off, both of them making out in a lavender and buttermilk bath laden with flowers.
if this isn’t love, what is?
it’s a bit difficult to resume his usual duties after moving into town A with wooyoung, but san still puts in the groundwork. the money is diminishing after all these years of undercover activities, and it feels like a good place to wrap things up nicely, without sullying or disregarding his and wooyoung’s parents’ legacy.
closure, because now he has found home.
there are bigger things that mere individuals and undercover rebels will never be able to fix and overthrow. an uprising to overhaul an entire system and uproot it is unlikely, even with eight bright individuals. or at least, within the next few decades. hopefully the future shall be brighter- but for now, that’s just the harsh truth, the reality of it all.
but what san can do, is treat his omega right.
move them both to town A, where things are safer and everyone is considered equal. where there are laws that actually protect. where there is peace and laughter and joy. where wooyoung can sing and waltz and make merry with his friends and their partners without fear or guilt or sorrow.
wooyoung and him do occasionally go back to town Z to do rescue work or distribute food to the poorer pups on the street, but that’s about it. there are things that cannot be helped, if the help is not accepted.
but as long as they are together, everything will work out in the end.
because wooyoung has found his alpha of the year. yesteryear, this year, the next year, and all the years that they will share until the next life. san will find him, one way or another, because they are meant to be. if not, wooyoung will hunt him to the ends of the earth, and scold him for not coming quicker. and then san would apologise and kiss him silly. and they will make love, and start a little family of their own. adopt all the pups. yeah. san would let him. because san’s omega can.
he is, after all, san’s precious little ruby.
so this is love.