Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yoongi woke to the scent of what was definitely not his college dorm room and something more sterile like antiseptic and powdered milk. The light above him was soft, tinted gold. His limbs felt heavy, dulled. Movement was possible, but only in slow, drowsy increments. He was wearing something strange soft, footed pajamas. His wrists bore no restraints, but the air was thick with control.

He was not alone.

A voice cooed above him. “There you are, sweetheart.”

A tall man, delicate but imposing, leaned over the crib bars with a soft smile and clipboard. He wore light purple scrubs. His name tag said Seokjin.

“I’m your caregiver today. You had a long intake night. We gave you some sedation for anxiety.”

Yoongi tried to speak. His mouth was dry. The words wouldn’t come. He tried to hoist himself up but his arms couldn’t with stand the weight of his torso to even get more than a few inches above the mattress.

“Don’t push too hard,” Seokjin murmured. “You’re still adjusting. The first steps aren’t the most comfortable, unfortunately. Not to worry, I’ll help you.”

He noted something on the clipboard and reached for a baby bottle.

“Let’s take a drink, sweetie. I’m sure you’re thirsty.”

“Where,” Yoongi managed to say.

“You’re in a special place, bud. A whole new life. We’re going to help you have the most enjoyable life anyone could ever have.”

Seokjin brought the bottle to his mouth, but Yoongi turned his head to the side. The silicone nipple smashed into his cheek and lukewarm milk dribbled down his cheek. Seokjin pulled a burp rag from his scrub pocket and wiped his face.

“Come on, Yoongi. Let’s not be stubborn.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened and fear boiled in his stomach. “You know my name?”

The caregiver nodded. “I know everything about you. So does all the staff here.”

“How?”

“That’s not important, honey. That’s your old life. This is the beginning of your new life."

Yoongi squirmed. He couldn’t get away from the man but he could at least try to make the man sympathize for him. “Please, no. Let-let me go.”

There had been murmurings of weird places like this on the internet. Places with elaborate hostage situations. Yoongi had never taken it seriously. His parents had pleaded for him to not move far away for school, but Yoongi had always dreamed of moving to Seoul for college. There were far more opportunities for internships and careers than in Daegu. Stories had been circling on the news for the past couple months about young adults disappearing in Seoul. Yoongi didn’t worry too much because he wasn’t the type to go out clubbing or hang out with sketchy people.

Seokjin frowned. “Hey, we’re going to take this all one step at a time. Don’t worry that little mind of yours. You’re going to learn to enjoy this. Trust me.”

A quiet beep came from the man's wrist. He pressed a button on the side of smart watch and hummed as he read a text. He spoke a message back into the device. “No therapy for 14 today. Go without us. We'll see you after.”

“Therapy,” Yoongi asked, squinting his eyes at the thought of a psychiatric appointment in a place like this.

Seokjin nodded. “Each day we stick to a schedule. We're going to keep you busy busy busy so you'll never feel bored.” The man smiled, and rubbed circles on Yoongi's belly.

Tears fell in large drops from his eyes. They started to leak all the way down into his ears and neck. “This is sick. Please, I don’t want this. You’ve got the wrong o-one,” he choked.

Seokjin set the clipboard down with a sigh. It was already half filled with notes about Yoongi. He picked up Yoongi with such ease that Yoongi squealed and clutched his sleeve in fear of being dropped. Yoongi was able to get a better look at the room he was in- a nursery. There were four cribs and a rocking chair. No one else was in there but the two of them. On the ceiling of every corner were cameras with blinking green lights.

The man walked them over to the rocking chair and sat down. Humiliated, Yoongi looked down to find himself in footy pajamas with little astronauts and comets on it. He adjusted the boy in his lap and started rubbing his back.

“There’s a process, Yoongi. It starts slowly: structure, caretaking, routine. We ease the burdens off your adult mind until it forgets how to carry them. You’ll resist at first. Everyone does. But as we remove the pressure, the confusion, the choices, you’ll start to feel it.”

“Feel what?”

“The warm heaven of regression.”

He paused and smiled down at him, the bottle now cradled in his hand.

“That softness. That safety. It becomes addictive. No bills, no loneliness, no deadlines. Just a world centered around your happiness, full tummies, and someone who knows what’s best for you.”

“Let me go,” Yoongi whimpered.

He stroked Yoongi’s soft hair. He would be popular for sure. He was so small and baby-like.

“You’re going to be cared for. Deeply. And one day, you’ll wake up and love it.”

“I won't.”

He lifted the bottle, offering it gently.

“Let’s start simple. Get something in your tummy then you’ll meet the others. You’re in Nursery Unit 7. You’ll love your new friends.”

🪐✨

The facility was massive, a former office builidng with 16 floors repurposed with pastel walls, plush furniture, and hidden restraints. The hallways were designed to be confusing. It would take a map for a new person to navigate its every floor. Surveillance was omnipresent. Cameras and baby monitors. But to make it less intimidating, other measures were included to keep the littles from panicking. Soothing music piped through every vent. Lullabies played on a harp. Smiles were constant on the faces of most of the staff.

Namjoon sat in his office that looked down into 8 different playrooms. Each playroom was walled and connected to their respective units.

The playrooms were all a bit different, based on the ages they planned to regress that batch of littles to. Some of them had electronic toys and instruments, things for older littles. The bare minimum playroom with only plush toys and dancing lights was used for those they intent to regress down to a few months mentally.

Namjoon had been there for 10 years. He helped design everything. He sat on the hiring committee. There are traces of his impact in every step of the way. This office was his haven when he isn't down assisting the units. He preferred this office, making sure he can oversee his wards and employees.

“Subject 14 is awake now,” Seokjin’s voice crackled over the comm line. “Minor resistance, but nothing we can’t shape.”

“How worn off are the sedatives?”

Seokjin replied a few moments later. “They're mild in his system right now. He can talk and move his arms and legs a little. Nowhere near the ability to get around on his own.”

Namjoon peered through the glass windows over Unit 7's play area. Their latest patient was sat propped against a wall, waiting for the others to join him.”

Seokjin was at the sink on the other side of the room washing out a bottle of milk. “He's got some spark in him, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon leaned forward. “We will be firm. He’ll be ready. We can’t have another Protocol 9 case. That regression took months to stabilize.”

“And what do you want me to do?”

“Keep him docile. Stick to the therapies. They work. Even if you have to be the bad guy, the tougher kids need to be firm. Hoseok’s good with the bonding routines. Let him play good cop. If Yoongi questions his place here, we must remind ourselves and him of the good that comes from this.”

Namjoon stood up, tall and stern faced. He brushed invisible matter from his black scrubs.

“Everyone here wants to be small eventually. We just have to show them the way first.”

Chapter Text

🪐✨️

Yoongi didn’t know how long he had been in the playroom. He watched Seokjin do dishes and pick up toys. The man used bleach wipes on every plastic and wood surface. He talked a bit to himself but he didn't bother Yoongi. The boy sat quietly, waiting for whatever might come.

The carpet was this and scratchy. He rubbed his hands on it, testing his senses. His hands tingled with numbness. The tips of his fingers felt staticky. Soft music played from a speaker somewhere but he couldn't pinpoint where. A harped version of a lullaby he hadn't heard since he was small. The white painted brick walls were tall but the carpet continued up a few feet to soften the surfaces. There were mirrors up high on the ceilings but Yoongi was pretty sure they were one way. He looked up at himself one time and was so ashamed he didn't look up again.

He tugged at the collar of his footed pajamas. They were uncomfortably warm. His body still felt slow, like he saw and heard things seconds before his body could make any reaction.

He didn’t belong there. He had to find a way out.

He couldn’t think hard enough to form any escape plan. Thinking too hard made his brain feel like it would explode.

The heavy door clicked and opened with a soft beeping sound from the id scanner on the other side. Another man in scrubs stepped inside with a clipboard in hand and three others behind him.

“Unit 7, say hello to your new friend,” he said gently. “Yoongi, these are your new roommates. Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung.”

The first to enter was a boy with thick brown curls that bounced over sleepy eyes. He waddled forward unsteadily, clutching a stuffed rabbit to his chest. He wore a plain white tshirt and tiny shorts. Yoongi eyed him up and down. A pacifier hung from a ribbon clipped to his chest. He plopped to the ground with a soft thump and immediately began chewing on the ear of his rabbit, humming softly.

“That’s Jungkook,” Seokjin said gently. “isn't he precious.”

Yoongi stared. There was nothing adult in Jungkook’s expression. His eyes were round, blank, glassy, focused entirely on the plush toy in his arms. Seokjin went over to the boy and pulled out a hair tie from his pocket. He cooed and gathered the long hair blocking his face into a half ponytail that reminded Yoongi of a beansprout.

The second boy, Taehyung, walked in behind him. He scurried to sit next to Jungkook and wrapped an arm through the crook of the younger's elbow. His gaze scanned the room with careful calculation. He was the second biggest person in the room after Seokjin but he looked the most nervous. Part of him seemed scared for himself but the way he stuck to Jungkook, Yoongi thought perhaps he was also protecting him.

He said nothing, but the way he sat protectively in front of Jungkook told Yoongi more than words could.

“Yoongi, this is Taehyungie. He doesn’t talk to new people much,” Seokjin said with a soft smile. “But you’ll warm up to each other soon.”

Last came Jimin.

He didn’t enter the unit at first. He stood in the doorway like it physically pained him to step into the room. His eyes narrowed at Seokjin, then darted to Jungkook.

“Come inside, my sweetheart,” Seokjin replied. He didn't move towards Jimin but his voice was firm.

Jimin brushed past him and immediately crouched beside Jungkook. He touched the boy’s cheek gently and whispered something Yoongi couldn’t hear. Jungkook blinked slowly, then offered his stuffed rabbit in return.

Jimin gave him a rare, quiet smile and shook his head. “Keep Cooky safe, Jungkookie.”

Then he stood up and turned to Seokjin, jaw tight.

“That was bullshit! No more therapies! Stop doing this to us!”

“That’s not the language we use in the playroom,” Seokjin replied calmly. “Let’s use our soft voices, Jimin.”

“I'm not going anymore!”

Hoseok, the caregiver who escorted the boys back chimed in. “It was difficult, but you handled it so well, Jiminie.”

Seokjin picked up his clipboard and turned to Jimin's page. He noted the choice of words and anger.

“Can you tell me what upset you so much,” Seokjin asked.

“I'm not upset,” Jimin snarled.

“You are,” Seokjin said matter-of-factly. “Tell me about therapy, baby.”

“Don't call me that,” he said. “There were strangers and they forced us to play house. It was disgusting. They only listened to us if we said “mommy” or “daddy”. You could have found some weirdos on the internet to do that. I will never ever call somebody that!”

“One day you will have a caregiver or maybe even two and they will have names they wish to be called, Jimin-ah. It's easier if we practice now,” Seokjin lectured in a firm but not mean voice.

“Whatever,” Jimin said. Seokjin wrote more on his sheet. “Keep writing. I'll break that clipboard over your head.”

“Jimin, let's not make threats,” Hoseok said from the side.

Jimin scoffed but sat down beside Jungkook and dragged the boy gently into his lap. Jungkook scooted himself into a nice warm position. Then Jimin shot Yoongi a glance. Was it a warning, Yoongi asked himself.

He had forgot he was staring the entire time. Yoongi stared back at Jimin and Jungkook. “I’m not going to hurt him,” he said hoarsely.

“Good,” Jimin said. “Because if you try, I’ll break your teeth before Seokjin gets the chance to stop me.”

Seokjin cleared his throat. “Let’s all be friendly. Jimin that's two threats in less than 5 minutes. Let's do better, buddy. Yoongi’s new. He needs time, just like everyone else did.”

Taehyung watched everyone with big eyes. He rubbed small circles on Jimin's back. His eyes still darted toward every sound, every creak of the vent, every chime from a toy.

Seokjin turned on a starlight projector. The entire room calmed when Jungkook reached for the dancing stars and giggled.

Yoongi, still frozen near the wall, could hardly believe what he was seeing. Jungkook wasn’t acting. He didn’t seem as scared as the others. Seokjin had said he'd been here the longest so if he was calm, maybe that meant Yoongi had less to worry about. But the way Jimin and Taehyung stuck to him like body guards made it clear that anyone who upset that delicate balance would answer to them.

Seokjin gestured for Yoongi to come closer. “Why don’t you join the others, sweetheart? You’ll feel better when you’re not alone.”

The boy shook his head “I want to go home,” Yoongi said.

“Don't we all,” Jimin sighed.

“This is home for now,” Seokjin reminded.

Yoongi hesitated. The other littles seemed intimidating. Or maybe just Jimin.

Hoseok who had been mostly quiet and observant, came over to the newest little. “Good morning! I'm so happy to see you're awake now,” he smiled. His smile was ginormous. Yoongi worried be would bite him in half if he got closer.

“Please call me Hobi,” he said, hoisting Yoongi off the ground.

Yoongi squealed. “Put me down!” Hoseok did put him down when they were next to the rest of the littles. The small man frowned. “Don't just pick people up like they're puppies! What is wrong with you?”

Taehyung met Yoongi’s eyes in curiosity. He hadn't seen someone with this much spunk since Jimin came.

Speaking of Jimin, the rebellious little rolled his eyes as he laid down on his back and looked up at the ceiling. “They don't seem to understand consent around here.”

‘Hobi’ slid his hands up Yoongi's armpits and pulled him to sit on his lap. “Our Jiminie is so grumpy today, what do we do,” he wondered out loud.

Yoongi sat awkwardly, trying to get himself out but Hoseok's arms caged around his belly.

The oldest caregiver brought a plastic bucket over with miniature cans of Play-Doh.

“Dough,” Jungkook happily said, clambering forward to grab a little yellow can. He pried the lid off and unceremoniously grabbed the neon blob of Play-Doh and smashed it between his fingers. He grinned wide and bright.

To Yoongi's surprise, the other two littles also reached for some of the dough to play with. He thought for sure Jimin would've shit on the idea of playing with something so childish.

Taehyung took little bits of different colors and pressed them together in a ball, then destroyed it and did that again. Each time, the dough became a more beautiful swirled masterpiece.

“That’s pretty, baby” Seokjin said, brushing hair out of Taehyung’s eyes.

Hoseok whispered into Yoongi's ear. “What color do you want, honey. We've got more pink and orange than anyone knows what to do with. No yellow though, because someone keeps taking it and not putting it back,” he chuckles.

Yoongi shook his head and scoffed. “I'm not a baby. I'm not playing with that.”

Hoseok nodded and didn't say anything, though anyone could easily read his mind and he leaned himself and Yoongi forward to grab a can of the pink dough.

“I like to make little coins,” Hoseok told the group.

“How do you do that,” Seokjin asked.

The younger caregiver held up the empty can with the lid on it and took a chunk of the dough and pressed it into the lid. He used his finger nail cut the excess around the rim and peeled out a circle with the Play-Doh logo pressed in. His coin.

Taehyung and Jungkook repeated him, but Jungkook's was a lot more sloppy. “Like this,” Taehyung asked, holding up the coin he made. He looked to both the caregivers for validation and when they praised it, his tucked his chin into his chest but Yoongi could tell he had a tiny smile.

Jungkook brought a little piece of play-doh to his mouth unconsciously and gave it a licked. He hummed at the salty flavor and stuck the ball into his mouth.

Seokjin, quick to notice, held his hand under Jungkook’s mouth. “Spit it out.”

Sheepish after getting caught, he let it fall from his mouth. Seokjin wasn't even fazed as he pulled a tissue from his pocket and wrapped it up, tucking the wet blob in his scrub pants for later disposal.

“Ew,” Yoongi whispered.

Jimin, who had been quietly shaping little yellow stars, glared at Yoongi.

“Don't even think about being mean to Jungkook,” he threatened.

“I- I'm sorry it's just,” he pausd trying to think of how to phrase his thoughts. “Why’s he like that?” Yoongi whispered, unable to stop himself.

Taehyung didn't look up but replied. “Protocol 9.”

Jimin snapped, “Don’t say that.”

“He has a right to know,” Taehyung replied quietly. “They pushed him harder than anyone. He wasn't always like this. He was the bravest person here.”

“Protocol 9,” Yoongi asked.

“That’s enough talking about that,” Seokjin cleared his throat. He placed his obnoxious clipboard on the ground next to him and decided to change the topic. “What are you making, Jiminie,” he asked.

“Nothing,” Jimin said, dropping the little yellow stars into his lap. They fell and laid hidden between crossed legs.

“What about my TaeTae,” Hoseok asked.

Taehyung had made different sized balls of his marbled dough and was stacking them. “Snowman,” he said quietly. He fixed a tiny carrot nose on the blobby man.

“What an artist!”

Yoongi still felt bad and didn't like the obvious topic shift he had caused. He had always been sensitive to rejections and being shut down. He hadn't meant to upset Jimin. With a sullen look on his face, he used all his arm strength to get himself out of Hoseok’s lap. Most eyes in the room watched as he used mostly his hands to drag himself a few feet away from the group. He laid down next to the wall, facing away from everyone.

This was all too much for him. Being kidnapped was one thing but to have another hostage get upset with him for natural reactions was a lot. And Taehyung looked so scared of everything and honestly so was Yoongi.

But Jungkook scared Yoongi most of all. What was Protocol 9? How could somebody allegedly go from being a fighter to basically a baby? Was that going to happen to him?

His breathing picked up and his nose sniffles but Yoongi tried so hard to stay quiet. He just wanted to disappear and never be here again. He could feel eyes stabbing through his back. But no one came to him for a while. They gave him his space.

He wanted this to all be a nightmare. A practical joke by his roommates even. He had projects to work on and tests to take. His convenience store job that had finally agreed to give him more hours. He needed to be home. Everything he's worked for had come to a disruptive pause.

He whimpered and curled in on himself.

Seokjin announced that play time would be ending in a few minutes and to start cleaning up.

“Yoongi, buddy, every morning you will eat breakfast, go to therapy, have playtime with your unit friends, and then we will all leave together and go to lunch.”

Yoongi just nodded and remained quiet, listening to the sounds in the room. Hoseok was instructing Jungkook to put the Play-Doh back in its can, reminding him the to match the color of the dough to the lid so it's easy to find the right colors later.

Jimin collected his miniature yellow stars into his hands. He crept across the room and crouched in front of the sink. He opened the cabinet and retrieved an apple sauce jar out that hides under the sink pipes. He added his newest creations to a jar of about 40. The ones at the bottom were rough but every time he made them, he improved his craft little by little.

Hoseok squatted next to Yoongi and put a hand on his leg. “You're still in your pajamas from last night. Let’s get dressed.”

“No,” Yoongi said, pulling himself up using the wall. “No, I’m fine.”

Hoseok gasped. “My littles can't go out in pjs! We're the most stylish unit! I have a reputation to protect.”

Yoongi grit his teeth and pulled his hands into the onesie, clutching the inside out fabric on the cuff. It made him feel more secure from being undressed.

Seokjin joined Hoseok and they cornered Yoongi. “Stay back,” he said.

“We need to stick to the routine, baby,” Seokjin said. “No one else is wearing their pajamas.”

Yoongi looked at the other three. It was true. They were wearing normal clothing. Extremely casual sweats and shorts, but at least it wasn't footed fleece from neck to toe like him.

“Fine,” he agreed.

“Good boy,” Seokjin praised. Yoongi wanted to gag. Why did being tricked into regression mean these men treated them like that? Like they were dogs?

Both Seokjin and Hoseok guided him behind a light blue curtain while the other littles sat, waiting for lunchtime. He resisted, trying to use his whole body weight to drag his feet, but he was no match for two grown men trained in regression management.

Hoseok unzipped him and helped him out of the absurd outfit. Standing there still not dressed they groomed him. Seokjin took a hairbrush through his locks a few time and Hoseok gave him a tiny tooth brush and small tooth paste. Yoongi struggled but managed to half ass brush his teeth. He spit into the sink and was handed a paper cup of water to rinse.

Hoseok left for a minute and returned later with a pair of shorts and a yellow tshirt. Yoongi reached for the clothes but Seokjin tutted and moved his hand away.

“We have to check your diaper first,” he stated.

Yoongi’s cheeks went as red as apples. “I didn't use it.”

The older man stepped behind him and pulled back the diaper to look down at Yoongi’s buttcheeks. Yoongi gasped and tried to shove him away. Seokjin didn't react. “He's clean.”

The men proceeded to dress him. Yoongi burned with shame as they carried him back out on Seokjin’s hip, like a toddler too small to walk.

When he saw Jimin staring, stone-faced, he wanted to vanish.

“Ba-ba-bi-bi-ba-ba-da-da-ba-da,” Hoseok sang like a trumpet. “Line up! Line up!”

Without a fuss, the other littles formed a straight line at the doorway. Hoseok swiped his badge and a small beep rang out.

He grabbed Taehyung’s hand and lead the group into the hall. Yoongi was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer size of the the building. You wouldn't be able to tell from inside the unit but there were long hallways with doors everywhere. He saw other groups being lead in the same direction by people in scrubs.

🪐✨️

They entered a cafeteria and Yoongi thought he was in an elaborate prison like he'd seen in prisons on television. Lunch tables everywhere but in perfect rows. A group of huge high chairs furthest away from the entrance. There were windows but they were just slits high up on the wall to let some light in. They probably thought that through. How many escapes have their been to make a building like this?

The cafeteria was filling with staff and littles. It was like a sick horror film. There must have been a hundred or so people in the room. Yoongi realized that every “little” in this place must have came the same way as him.

“Let's go back,” Yoongi insisted to Seokjin.

“That's not an option right now,” the man replied. “We're going to have some yummy lunch.”

They were lead to a long gray table with floor tiles that said ‘7’ on both ends. Hoseok assisted Taehyung into his seat on the bench and then Jungkook. Jimin and Hoseok sat next to each other on their side as well. It looked crowded in Yoongi's opinion. Seokjin placed Yoongi on the other side of the table and sat directly next to him.

A woman dressed in a white hat, white apron, and a black face mask wheeled a cart to their table.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted and placed a stack of seven plastic trays on the table. Seokjin handed them to everyone.

She then handed multiple dishes to Seokjin, the caregiver obviously in charge of running the table. She wished them a good meal and walked away. The woman never once looked at any of the little’s faces. It was against the rules for kitchen and custodial staff to attempt any friendly contact with the littles so they don't become attached.

“Looks yummy,” Hoseok smiled. He took a bowl of rice and scooped a pile out onto everyone's plates. He followed that with portions of some stir fried meat and vegetables, kimchi, and very finely diced pears.

“Thank you, Hoseok,” Seokjin said. “Boys, what do you say to Hobi?”

“Thank you,” Taehyung said quietly, reaching for his fork.

“T'anks Hobi,” Jungkook said happily and started eating his food with his fingers.

Jimin and Yoongi didn't say anything but Jimin did join the other littles in eating lunch. Yoongi however was too in shock to eat. There were so many people here. Enough to start a revolution if they wanted to.

He looked around the room at the other hostages. The tables appeared to be divided by gender. They sat closest to a table with five girls and three female caregivers.

Yoongi kept his head down, staring at the untouched plate of food in front of him. His stomach twisted. It wasn’t just fear though that was part of it. He was filled with grief. For the life that had been stolen, for the future that had been swallowed whole like a small fish in the mouth of a whale by this twisted place.

Seokjin gently nudged his elbow. “You should eat, sweetheart.”

Yoongi didn’t respond. His mouth was dry. He pushed the rice with his spoon, then set it down again.

Across the table, Jimin was watching him now. His eyes weren’t angry anymore, just sharp. Calculating. Like he was trying to decide what kind of person Yoongi was. If he was stuck with a lost cause or perhaps a new partner. A chance to get out.

Taehyung leaned in to whisper something in Jimin’s ear, but Yoongi couldn’t hear it. Whatever it was, Jimin didn’t answer right away. He just nodded slightly, then looked back down at his food.

Hoseok made airplane noises and guided his food towards his own mouth like a mother feeding a stubborn child, but he was both the mother and baby in that situation. Yoongi looked at him in disgust but Jungkook giggled mid-bite. There was a grain of rice stuck to his cheek. Taehyung turned automatically, dabbing it away with a napkin. Yoongi watched the motion, the care in it, the familiarity, and wondered if they’d all started like himself. Was Jimin ever terrified, confused?

He wasn’t hungry. But more than that, he didn’t want to give into them in any way. At the current moment, food intake seemed to be all he could control. Not eating meant they won.

“Yoongi,” Taehyung said. The newest boy eyes widened at being addressed by the shy one. “The food is actually good.”

“I’m not eating,” Yoongi said quietly. He felt guilty. He recognized Taehyung was trying to help him but Taehyung wouldn't understand.

Seokjin didn’t flinch. He simply placed his utensils down, folded his hands on the table, and gave Yoongi his full attention. “You don’t have to. But you should know—if you don’t eat now, you won’t be given lunch later. That’s the policy.”

“If you wanted happy little babies wouldn't you feed them any time they said they were hungry,” Yoongi dared to ask.

“No,” Seokjin replied. “We have a schedule. You aren't in control of when we eat. The hard working cooks shouldn't be hassled around because of some fussiness.”

Yoongi looked up at him in surprise.

“This place doesn’t pretend to be what it’s not,” Seokjin continued. “Our control doesn’t mean cruelty. If you’re very hungry later I'll perhaps try to get you a snack, but if you have a grumbly tummy, that's on you for not eating right now. Baby, I recommend you follow our routine from the start.”

Yoongi said nothing. His fingers gripped the edge of the tray. He was going to pick up the entire tray when a hand settled on his wrist and guided him back down.

“Don’t,” Jimin said softly from across the table. “Don’t give in to anger with violence.”

Yoongi blinked. That wasn’t what he’d expected. Not from Jimin.

“You’ll regret it later,” Jimin added.

Seokjin didn’t respond. He just began eating his own lunch like Jimin’s words hadn’t landed between them like a knife.

Hoseok glanced at Seokjin and gave a little shrug, like this was all just another day. Then he turned to Jungkook and started a playful story about a rice grain going on an adventure through kimchi mountain and stir-fry valley. Jungkook listened with wide, delighted eyes.

Yoongi didn’t touch his food. Seokjin’s scolding repeated in his head. Not because of the threat of no meal later but because he was surprised he wasn't being stopped by the man and forced to eat.

Across the room, another unit of boys was being seated. They looked even younger if that was possible. One of them was already crying. The caregiver with him cooed and rubbed his back as he waited for food. He looked like he was trying not to sit his bottom down on the bench.

Yoongi turned away.

“How many are here?” he asked.

Seokjin answered without hesitation. “A hundred and twelve. Down from the hundred and twenty-three last week.”

“What,” Yoongi said in shock. “What did you do with them?”

Seokjin gave a smile. “They found new homes.”

Yoongi’s stomach lurched.

Jimin made a sound that might’ve been a laugh or a choke. “You’re just learning everything today, aren't you? Are you applying for a job?”

Yoongi glared.

“Jiminie,” Hoseok said. “Let's give our Yoongi a good start here. We need to be welcoming and help him, okay?”

Jimin didn’t answer.

“I want you to try eating,” Seokjin told Yoongi. He looked at him in expectation.

Yoongi stared at the rice. Then pushed the tray forward by an inch.

“No,” he said, voice low. “I don't want your fucking food. You're not going to give my body away to the highest bidder.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow from across the table but didn’t speak. Taehyung looked away, suddenly busy pushing a slice of pear to the edge of his plate. Jungkook even came to clarity and watched.

Seokjin didn't scold, but his hand moved to his clipboard. The pen clicked open.

“No lunch,” he noted aloud as he wrote. “Refusal of food, time: 12:38.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“No,” Seokjin said simply. “It’s how we keep track of progress. Patterns. Habits. We’re not here to punish. Just to guide.”

“I didn’t ask for that.”

Seokjin turned his face to Yoongi and gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It doesn't matter, Yoongi. I am here to take care of you whether or not you like it.”

Before Yoongi could argue, he felt it—a shift in the air.

A quiet fell over the table to their left. Jungkook looked up and started rocking a bit in his place, trying to self soothe. Hoseok stood, brushing his hands on his pants.

Footsteps.

Measured, slow, and deliberate.

Yoongi turned and saw him.

Namjoon.

He wasn't particularly taller than any of the other caregivers. Yes he had broad shouldered and muscular arms, but his aura seemed to separate him from the other caregivers. He composed himself knowing well he could handle any situation thrown his way. His black scrubs were impeccably cleaned. He wasn't wearing a name badge. He didn’t need one. The staff seemed to part without question as he moved through the cafeteria, a quiet gravity trailing behind him.

He stopped beside their table.

“Unit 7,” he greeted, with a soft dip of his head. His voice was smooth, calm, like water settling in a glass. "It's good to see you this afternoon."

“Hello, Namjoon,” Seokjin said, giving a quick head bow immediately. Hoseok followed suit.

Namjoon’s eyes found Yoongi. Observant eyes. Unreadable.

“You must be Yoongi.”

Yoongi said nothing.

Namjoon stepped closer, then crouched so they were level, eye to eye. His posture was open. There was no threat in how he presented his body but everything in his presence whispered authority.

“You haven’t eaten,” he said, glancing at the tray.

Yoongi clenched his jaw. “Not hungry.”

“I believe you,” Namjoon said. “But hunger always comes later. So let’s talk about what this is really about.”

Yoongi felt the room dim behind him like a movie scene where the camera zooms in on a couple. He was suddenly aware of how many other staff were watching. How quiet the room had gotten.

He didn’t speak.

Namjoon placed his hands on Yoongi's knees. “Here’s what I think. You’re scared. You’re humiliated. You feel like a prisoner. And so, you’re choosing not to eat because it’s the one thing no one can force you to do.”

Yoongi blinked. His throat tightened. Shouldn't a place that wants you to mentally transform into a baby be less transparent, he thought? Between Seokjin and Namjoon, Yoongi couldn't keep up how open they were about their mission.

“I respect that,” Namjoon continued gently. “Truly. But I want you to understand something.” He leaned in just a fraction, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “We're not going to treat you like you're an unworthy prisoner. We're preparing you for a life of care and safety. We need to teach you how to live without the pain that you've experienced in the past. We want you to have truly the best life. Eating is part of that. It’s not compliance. It’s care. You caring for your own body. Us caring for you.”

Yoongi finally found his voice. “That’s what you tell yourself?”

Namjoon smiled again, softer this time. “That’s what I believe.”

Then he stood. “You may skip this meal. But you will not be offered food until dinner. And if you continue refusing meals, we will intervene medically. Not as punishment, but to make sure you're healthy physically so we can help you mentally and emotionally.”

He turned to Seokjin. “Mark him NPO for lunch. Encourage fluids.”

“Yes, sir.”

Namjoon looked to both Hoseok and Seokjin. “Thank you for helping our little ones. We couldn't do this without you.”

Then, before walking away, Namjoon paused. His voice reached Yoongi one last time, steady and low.

“We do this for you.”

Then he walked away.

The air didn’t return to normal for a full minute. Jimin was frozen, his eyes dark with memory. Taehyung swallowed hard and looked down at his food again.

Yoongi sat rigid, every hair on his arms standing straight.

They weren’t just keeping him here. They were watching and studying. Planning to make him some sort of perfect product. That Namjoon guy seemed to be a master manipulator and had taken the futures from every one there. Yoongi realized how deeply in shit he was.

Chapter Text

The lights in the observation office flickered on with the hum of the security monitors. Namjoon stood at the center screen, watching Unit 7 sleep in their nursery dorm. The live feed cycled between wide-angle shots and infrared close-ups. Jungkook was tossing and turning, possibly from a nightmare.

“I was looking over the progress reports before bed,” he started. “I noticed Jimin’s swearing and refusals recently spiked.”

“Well they did have a big change yesterday, what with adding Yoongi,” Seokjin said.

“It wasn't just yesterday. It's been all week.” He cleared his throat. “Even so, during therapy he was also feisty. I want to push some boundaries today,” Namjoon said.

"Today will be a challenge," Hoseok said from behind him, tablet in hand. He listed off the bolded words of that day’s itinerary. "Baby clothes, tummy time, the progress ceremony. They're not going to like it."

Seokjin leaned against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck. "Jimin's gonna be hell. Yoongi hasn't even used the bathroom here, let alone accepted anything."

“Shouldn’t we ease him more gradually,” Hoseok wondered. “I don’t think seeing the others upset is going to boost any trust in us.”

Namjoon turned slowly, composed in black scrubs without a single crease. "Agitation means awareness. When they feel discomfort, they seek relief. And when we are that relief, they bond."

“What do we do about breakfast,” Hoseok asked.

"He's starving himself," Seokjin added. "He barely touched fluids."

"And he'll eat when he needs to," Namjoon replied. "They all do. Fear and hunger lead to surrender. We meet that surrender with love. Don’t worry too much. He will have opportunities to eat."

He looked at the screen one last time and said softly, like it was scripture:

"They'll be fine. This is for their best life."

🪐✨️

Soft music chimed through the walls. The room lights in the morning imitated the sun. It brightened little by little. It started with an orange glow and then a warm yellow light spilled into the dorm, glinting off pastel mobiles and through the crib bars.

Yoongi opened his eyes to the familiar ceiling. He was already sweating inside his sleep sack. The onesie clung to him like a reminder. His name was embroidered across the chest patch. The tag read Yoongi – 14 – Unit 7. He sat up slowly, trying to shake the fog from his mind. Across the room, the others stirred. Taehyung yawned and curled into the warm person beside him, refusing to open his eyes. Jungkook was already upright, rocking slightly at the edge of his mattress, his bunny clutched tightly in both hands.

Jimin groaned under his breath. “Another beautiful day in hell.”

Seokjin entered the room with a cheerful tone. “Good morning, boys! We’ve got a big day ahead of us. Let’s make ourselves proud, okay?”

“Rise and shine,” Hoseok sang.

He went over to Jimin’s crib first. He squinted his eyes and laughed. “Taehyung? How do you always get into places you shouldn’t be?”

In the middle of the night the second youngest had jumped from his own crib and climbed in next to Jimin’s. He didn’t like sleeping alone and everyone knew that.

The boys were helped from their beds one by one and helped with getting ready. To Yoongi’s surprise, the other three had been given diaper changes and there wasn’t any yelling, any fighting, any tears. He couldn’t imagine ever being like that. Not even for a million dollars.

Seokjin helped Yoongi undress from his pajamas. He inspected the front and back of his diaper. “Don’t you need to go, sweetheart.”

“No.” Yes.

“Don’t hold it in too long. Your poor body can’t handle that,” Seokjin said with an over exaggerated pout. Yoongi rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his body for some privacy.

Jungkook and Taehyung were dressed in onesies that matched with shorts on the bottom. “What’s going on?”

Seokjin looked over at Jimin. “What do you mean?”

“Give us our regular clothes,” the boy demanded.

Hoseok came over with a onesie for Jimin. “Just for today. Won’t you wear this for me,” the man said with puppy eyes.

“Can I just wear sweatpants?” Jimin muttered, frowning at the childish ensemble. “You’ve never made us wear these before!”

“Nope,” Seokjin replied. “Sweats aren’t an option today. Namjoon has requested you wear these.”

“Fuck that guy,” Jimin said. “It’s humiliating.”

“Language, please,” Seokjin corrected. He put his hand through the unsnapped leg opening and snaked his arms into the onesie. He stretched it out wide and slid the garment over Jimin’s head. He kissed his crown as his head popped out. Jimin growled but Seokjin ignored him and continued to dress him.

When Seokjin kneeled to slide his shorts up, Jimin reached down and ripped open the snaps of the onesie. “Oops,” he said flatly. “My hand slipped.”

Seokjin gave a tired sigh. Hoseok stepped in. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

“You already did,” Jimin muttered. “The second you walked in.”

Yoongi resigned himself to being dressed to match the others. Seokjin put him in the same color pairing as Jimin. He snapped him into his onesie, sealing the crotch together like he was sealing his fate. It seemed there would be no exceptions to their getups today.

Hoseok cooed at the two boys as they stood next to each other in the same clothes. “Look at these two. They could be our little twins,” he tells Seokjin.

🪐✨️

The cafeteria was buzzing. Littles from other units sat in neat rows, trays already waiting: steaming porridge, soft banana slices, sippy cups or bottles depending on their regression level. Unit 7 was ushered to their assigned table. Yoongi sat down reluctantly. The smell of food hit him like a punch to the gut—his stomach cramped with hunger, but he didn’t reach for the spoon. Taehyung ate without comment, chewing slowly, eyes cast down.

Jungkook didn’t reach for his spoon resting unused beside him. He seemed even more down today if Yoongi could even believe that. Hoseok reached over and tapped his hand gently.

“You did so well yesterday feeding yourself, Jungkookie. Can Hobi feed you today?”

Jungkook thought and nodded, waiting for the man to bring bites to his mouth. Sometimes his hands just wouldn’t cooperate anymore.

Jimin stabbed at the slimy sliced bananas with his spoon. “Could have given us whole bananas. No point in cutting it up”

“Try some of this Yoongi,” Seokjin encouraged, taking a bite from his bowl. “Yah, it’s stick to your ribs good.”

Yoongi shoved his tray away. “Not hungry.”

“Yoongi,” Hoseok said, sitting beside him. “I know your body’s hungry. It’s okay to eat!”

“No.”

“How about you drink some milk?”

He shoved the sippy cup of milk so hard it fell to its side and rolled across the table.

Seokjin picked it up and placed it nearly back next to him. “Not even a sip?”

Yoongi shook his head.

“Alright,” Hoseok said quietly. “Just remember, lunch isn’t for another four hours.”

Yoongi didn’t reply.

The lights dimmed. A wide projector screen descended from the far wall, casting the room in a soft glow that made the shadows grow. The music volume decreased and the adults and most littles turned to face the screen.

Jimin groaned aloud. “Oh god. It’s the clown weekly show.”

“What’s going on,” Yoongi asked.

“Every week they do this stupid ceremony to show how much each person is changing.”

“Why? Why would they tell us about other people,” Yoongi asked.

Seokjin chimed in. “Don’t be so negative, Jimin. We want to celebrate you. Yoongi, we’re very supportive of everyone’s progress here. We celebrate the victories of everyone.”

Namjoon appeared at the front, dressed in the same black scrubs as yesterday. Everyone below him wore scrubs of different colors but he was the only one who wore that color. He held a silver microphone. He tapped the mic to make sure it was on. The room fell quiet out of reflex.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said warmly. “Every day here is progress. Every soft moment, every small surrender, matters.”

The screen changed. There was an image of balloons and confetti. “To our new arrivals, I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Namjoon. Welcome, we are so happy to have you. Each day that you are here brings opportunities for change and growth. We want to celebrate you as you are on your journey to a new life.”

The next slide changed. “We have a lot of good coming from our Unit 1,” Namjoon said. From the back of the room a few whoops were cheered. Yoongi looked back and saw it was the area with the high chairs. He shivered as he saw a few caregivers cheering and shaking the hands of the littles for them. None of them participated in the cheering. Some looked scared. Others looked too deep into their regression to know what was happening.

A picture of a girl who couldn’t have been any younger than twenty appeared. She was smiling while talking to people with blurred faces. “Yeonmi had very good meetings with potential adopters and one couple have decided she will be joining their family.” Every caregiver in the room clapped and a few cheered.

“She’s so sweet. I worked with her once,” a female caregiver said at the table closest to them.

“Extra brainwashed,” Jimin commented loudly. The caregivers at the table gave him a warning look.

Namjoon continued going through about forty shout outs. They were kept short. There were a few claps here and there, but it was mostly just a photo, a quick blurb about why they were being celebrated, and then he moved on to the next person.

Jungkook was the first to be mentioned for Unit 7. His photo flashed on the screen. Namjoon looked up at the photo and paused before returning to the crowd with a soft smile. Under his photo it said “Subject 22 – Jungkook”. Yoongi was truly paying attention to the screen until now. Has everyone been given a number?

“Up first in Unit 7, Jungkook has been doing very well in his individual therapy sessions. Good job, Jungkook!”

Seokjin and Hoseok cheered and turned to coo at the boy.

Yoongi noticed Jungkook had stopped eating. His eyes were on the screen, but he rocked his body. His jaw clenched.

Next was Taehyung or Subject 78 - Taehyung, as the screen referred to him. Some people in the room said “awe” and “how cute” as a photo of his smiling with paint smeared on his face and hands. The boy in the photo had no idea a camera was even pointed his way as he was showing his friends his mess.

“Taehyung, we have received a lot of good notes about you this week. My favorite one said that you were the most expressive painter during art therapy. Great job, bud,” Namjoon praised.

Taehyung looked embarrassed but nodded at the praise.

“Next is Jimin,” Namjoon said. Many caregivers and littles eyed the boy at table 7. Jimin is well-known in the facility for his unbreaking spirit. Many littles admire him but many didn’t try to emulate him as he was often getting punished. The photo of Jimin showed him with arms crossed and not smiling and he was standing with a caregiver who was talking to him, a usual sight for the boy. “Good job handling conflict with a calm voice. Raising our voices doesn’t solve problems.”

Jimin muttered under his breath, “That wasn’t a soft voice. I was just hoarse from yelling.”

Finally Yoongi saw his own photo on the screen. His mouth dropped as he saw a photo of himself sleeping in the crib. His body felt hot as it occurred to him that over a hundred people were looking at him unconscious in an infantile manner against his will.

“Our newest little, Yoongi has joined us. Last night was his first time sleeping in the nursery and he did wonderfully. Welcome Yoongi and good job. I truly can’t wait to see what the future holds for you.”

The majority of the caregivers in the room started clapping. The other littles of Unit 7 were staring at Yoongi, waiting to see how would react. The clapping felt louder. Yoongi’s ears burned. He ducked his head into his arms and hid, utterly mortified.

Namjoon carried on the rest of the ceremony. No one said anything to each other at their table. Seokjin spent the better part of half an hour rubbing circles into Yoongi’s back. It reminded him of his mother. He just wanted to go home and never remember this place..

🪐✨️

The regression therapy room looked like a preschool dream. Like one of those indoor jungle gyms that they use to have at malls. Cloud-printed wall paper like a children's movie. The floors were made of cushioned mats. Every edge was padded for safety.

But the center of the room held something new: a tunnel of low bars. Soft foam covered bar connected by a mesh canopy, creating a network nooks only high enough for someone to crawl though.

In the middle, Yoongi could see a cornucopia of rewards. His jaw dropped. There were bags of chips and chocolate chip cookies. Various pillows were placed around the spread of goodies.

“Unit 7, today's therapy is tummy time,” Namjoon announced. “The body learns what the mind resists. You will crawl beneath the canopy, slowly, using only arms and legs. No standing. No walking.”

Jimin narrowed his eyes. “You’re serious?”

Namjoon smiled. “You can wait and watch. But the snacks are only for those who participate”

Yoongi’s stomach growled violently.

Namjoon's ears picked up on the muffled noise and he smirked. He turned to him. “You haven’t eaten. Here’s your opportunity.”

The crawl space looked ridiculous. But his stomach was killing him, and the cramps were getting worse.

Jungkook had already dropped to the mat, slowly pulling himself forward. Cooky the bunny was tucked under his armpit. He looked excited at the challenge of navigating the tunnels. He was focusing. In only a matter of seconds he reached the middle. He reached the tray and stole a cookie. He perched his stuffed friend on a pillow and laid down comfortably beside him. As he ate, there were happy hums accompanied by the lullabies overhead.

Taehyung followed next. He crawled slowly, wincing with each movement, his face red. It did bother him how easily and naturally compliance had been becoming. The routines became a source of comfort when he knew the end game future was so unknown. At one point, he paused and looked up at the other littles still standing outside the system. His eyes lingered on Jimin. He wished for his friend to join him.

Jimin snorted. “Crawl for a snack. This place gets more pathetic every day.”

He didn't bother to lower his voice.

Taehyung faltered mid-crawl, glancing back. Jungkook looked down at the floor and stopped chewing. Namjoon’s head turned. He didn’t speak right away. He set down his tablet slowly, tucked his stylus into his scrub pocket, and walked to the edge of the mat where Jimin sat.

“Jimin,” he said, voice devoid of warmth. “I understand that you’re uncomfortable with your current assignment. That’s normal. Resistance is part of regression.”

He crouched just slightly, still towering over the boy.

“But if you continue to interfere with your peers’ therapy, we’ll have to consider moving you to a more intensive protocol. One better suited to addressing these ongoing behaviors.”

His voice was calm and collected but it felt ice-cold. He was quiet enough that only himself and the boy could hear. Jimin blinked. His jaw clenched, and he looked away.

“That wouldn’t be my first choice,” Namjoon continued, straightening again. “But I think you remember how quickly things can change when you force our hand.”

Jimin didn’t answer. He looked at Jungkook and saw the other boy was staring at Namjoon talking to him. Jimin's hands curled into fists.

He turned back toward the wall and sat stiffly, arms folded, legs drawn up. He wasn't going to crawl but he also wasn't going to respond to the man either.

Namjoon returned to his tablet and entered more data into his notes, as if the warning hadn’t happened at all.

Jimin sat cross-legged, arms folded. “You’ll never see me get in that thing,” he said to Yoongi.

Yoongi stared at the tunnel.

Namjoon knelt beside him. “You’re allowed to need something, Yoongi. You won’t be punished for hunger.”

Yoongi hesitated—then dropped to the floor.

The foam pressed into his knees and chest. His palms slid along the material. The vinyl covering made irritating noises as his skin unstuck every time he lifted his hand from the mat.

He entered into the covered system. Every inch forward felt more humiliating than the last. He hit his head more than once but it didn't hurt. The bars above reminded him that he wasn’t free to stand. He couldn't imagine someone as big as Namjoon coming in here.

Halfway through, he heard a click—a photo taken.

“Subject 14 entered the tunnel voluntarily,” Hoseok recorded.

“Good job, Yoongi,” Seokjin praised.

His face burned.

The smell of the cookies and chip bag sounds grew stronger. His stomach cramped again. He felt a bit dizzy. His energy was drained. Yoongi wasn't sure the last time he went over a day without eating.

Finally, he reached the center. Taehyung and Jungkook were cuddled together enjoying their rewards. Taehyung hummed along to the lullabies and rubbed his cheek against a pillow comfortingly.

Taehyung offered him a small smile and pushed the tray towards him.

Namjoon’s voice followed: “You may have a snack now.”

Yoongi didn’t argue. He grabbed a bag of chips, eating without meeting anyone’s eyes. The saltiness was mesmerizing.

He looked at the others tangled beside him and he realized he was happy he did this. There were no caregivers here. Just himself and people who know what he's going through.

“Cookie,” Jungkook said.

Yoongi looked at him and realized he was now watching Yoongi expectantly.

“You want another,” Yoongi asked.

Jungkook nodded and so Yoongi passed him one. Jungkook smiled and showed Yoongi his bunny. “Cookie for Cooky!”

Yoongi nodded but didn't say anything. Jungkook was cute even if Yoongi couldn't understand why he was the way he was. He decided to move closer to his unit mates and he lay on the mat beside Jungkook.

He didn't want to leave that area and return to their reality but ultimately they were called to return to the caregivers after 15 minutes. The caregivers didn't come in there so he decided it was the best place in the facility to be.

Yoongi watched Jimin through the bars. The boy had refused to budge from his spot the entire time. His arms were crossed and he glared at the adults when they talked to him. Hoseok and Seokjin had excitedly encouraged him to join his friends but today was just too much for him. Jimin, who hated being treated like a baby, was standing on business. He wouldn't give them what they wanted today.

Yoongi wondered if Jimin was judging him. Jimin seemed firm in his limits which impressed Yoongi. He'd been there for 3 months and didn't seem to fear anyone. Yet Yoongi had already been participating in group therapy. He felt sick. Not from hunger this time but from the fact that he'd crawled for it. That he'd crawled for a snack. That their plan had worked.

As he followed Jungkook and Taehyung out of the tummy time tunnels he stopped on the way out. He grabbed the fourth and final bag of chips and shoved into his onesie. He crawled back out, very careful to not press his stomach on the ground and crush the chips.

Namjoon’s voice was soft but clear.

“Thank you for trying, Yoongi. This was wonderful progress.”

Yoongi ignored him and crawled past him to sit next to Jimin. As nonchalantly as he could muster, he pulled the chips out of his clothes and placed them in Jimin’s lap and didn't say anything.

Jimin’s eyes widened as he looked down. “Thanks,” he said quietly. He squeezed the crinkley bag and decided he would save it for later.

🪐✨️

Evening in the nursery settled like a damp fog. The lighting in the building seemed to follow the pattern of day light. While it had been bright during therapy and dinner, after dinner play time was different. The lights had been dimming slowly. Yoongi decided if he ever got his hands on the Play-Doh again he was going to fashion himself some earplugs. The lullaby notes grated on Yoongi’s eardrums like fingernails against glass. The low throb in his abdomen had become a full ache, every cramp a cruel reminder of what he was holding back. He sat stiffly on the mat away from the other littles. He was surrounded by pastel blankets and fuzzy animals, but he was anything but comfortable. The others looked comfy and safe but the stabbing in his gut made his body too tense to feel safe. He was sure he could feel every nerve ending individually.

Seokjin and Hoseok had been asking him every hour or so if he had used his diaper yet. He would yell or growl or just flat out ignore them. Taehyung and Jungkook willingly used their diapers no problem. Jimin wore diapers too but he preferred to use the toilet. There was a single toilet in the nursery but it had just as many rules as every other thing in this godforsaken place. The toilet wasn’t in a bathroom. It only had a curtain for privacy. The thing had a plastic child lock that only the caregivers had the keys to use. If he wanted to use it, one of them had to unlock for him and stay with him and make sure it got relocked. Yoongi was absolutely disgusted by the idea.

He’d refused to go earlier when Hoseok escorted Jimin to use it. Jimin seemed relieved, too, as he certainly didn’t want his audience to grow. No matter how many times Hoseok and Seokjin would offer, he’d refused to use the “baby toilet.” He wasn’t going to give them that. Not after everything else they’d already taken.

Yoongi’s body didn’t care about pride. His bladder spasmed. He stood up with a gasp, then bent at the waist, legs trembling. The padding of his training diaper rubbed cruelly between his thighs, mocking him. They dressed them in diapers thicker than what was medically necessary in Yoongi’s opinion. These ones were so thick they added an exaggerated waddle. He shifted in place, trying to hold onto his urine. He was trying to think, but his thoughts were racing in circles. Thinking is hard when you think a vital organ is going to pop.

Seokjin noticed from the rocking chair where he was writing notes about their nighttime routine. He stood immediately and approached slowly, crouching at Yoongi’s eye level.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted softly. “You okay, baby?” Yoongi’s eyes were wide and wet. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His whole body was shaking. “I think you need to go potty,” Seokjin continued, still calm. “Am I right?”

Yoongi’s lip trembled. “I can’t. It’s locked. You locked it.”

Seokjin nodded, keeping his voice neutral. “Yes, it has a little lock. That’s the rule. You can’t use the toilet unless a caregiver is present.”

“I’m not a child,” Yoongi bit out, voice cracking. “I don’t need help to pee.”

“I know,” Seokjin said gently. “But the rules are part of your regression protocol. You’re here to unlearn control. That includes learning to trust a caregiver with even the small things.”

Yoongi clutched his stomach. The pain was getting sharper now. Red hot and unbearable. He turned away and squeezed his legs together so hard it made his knees ache.

“You have two options,” Seokjin said, a little more firmly now. “I can help you unlock the potty and sit with you while you go. I won’t look. I’ll just be there to supervise. Or you can use your diaper, and I’ll help you change into a fresh one after.”

“I’m not doing either!” Yoongi exploded suddenly, fists clenched at his sides. “I don’t want to do any of this! I don’t want you to see me like this! I just—” He doubled over with a moan. “Please, just unlock it and walk away. Please.”

Seokjin’s smile faltered, but his tone remained gentle. “I can’t do that. You know I can’t. It would be a violation of your treatment plan.”

Yoongi let out a sob. “Please. You know what you’re doing is wrong. Don’t do this to me.”

Seokjin patted his back. “I know, baby. You’re having such big feelings right now. It’s so hard, isn’t it?”

“No, you don’t know! You don’t know what this feels like!” His voice rose into a shriek. “I’m begging you!”

Yoongi started banging his head on the floor. His crying made it hard to breathe. The pain from his head provided little distraction from the pain in his bladder but he couldn’t stop. He needed Seokjin to see how serious he was. The older man sat cross legged next to him and pulled Yoongi’s head into his lap to cushion the blows. The little continued to bang his head into Seokjin’s legs. He asked Hoseok for his table which was brought over promptly before Hoseok returned to occupying the other’s littles in the room. The man powered on his device. He tapped Namjoon’s icon in the staff communication channel.

Seokjin: Yoongi’s panicking. Exhibiting self-harm behaviors. Refusing the toilet but also won’t let himself have an accident. He’s breaking down.

A reply pinged almost immediately.

Namjoon: He has to make the choice. We don’t override autonomy. Give him the options again. Support whatever he chooses. That’s it.

Seokjin glared at the message for a moment, his lips tightening. Why couldn’t his boss come assist him this one time? He lifted Yoongi’s head to look at his red face covered in sweat and tears.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Seokjin said, voice thick with emotion. “We can’t make the choice for you. You have to choose. Either I help you with the potty… or you let yourself go and I help clean you up.”

“I can’t,” Yoongi rasped. “I can’t do either.”

“You don’t have to choose right now. But your body might choose for you soon, okay? And that won’t be your fault.”

“I’m disgusting,” Yoongi sobbed, rocking now. “I’m a grown man in a diaper. I’m crying because I need to pee. What’s wrong with me? Why are you even here?”

Seokjin’s chest hurt at the sound of his voice. He moved forward and gently wrapped his arms around Yoongi, pulling him into his lap despite the resistance. Yoongi trembled like a leaf, breath hitching as he buried his face in Seokjin’s chest.
“I’m here because I care about you,” Seokjin whispered. “You’re not disgusting. You’re scared. You’ve been holding on so tight for so long. You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

Yoongi let out a shuddering, broken sound, his arms going limp. “I hate myself.”

Seokjin stroked his hair, slow and rhythmic. “No, baby. No, no. You’re brave. You’ve been holding on so strongly. You took care of yourself for so long. This isn’t weakness. It’s strength to feel this much. You’re doing everything right. I promise.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’ll believe it for you then.”

They stayed like that for a long time. Eventually, Yoongi’s shaking began to subside, though his eyes were still distant, hollow. The pressure in his body had ebbed slightly. He started to disassociate from his pain. His dignity was in shreds. He didn’t know which was worse: the fear of wetting himself, or the humiliation of being escorted like a toddler to the locked toilet in the corner.

“I can’t even pee without permission,” he whispered. “I’m failing to be a fucking adult.”

Seokjin kissed his temple. “That’s not failure. You’re not an adult anymore. We’re here for you. Let’s heal together. This is healing. You’re not meant to be perfect here.”

Yoongi said nothing else. He was silent and small in Seokjin’s arms, his breath finally even but his eyes were glassy, wet, and filled with grief.

When the boy in his arms started to shake again, Seokjin decided it was time to intervene. He couldn’t let the boy be in physical pain. “Yoongi,” Seokjin murmured softly, rocking him with slow, even motions. “You’re doing such a good job. I know this is hard. But I need you to come back to me for just a moment.”

Yoongi didn’t respond. He was biting his finger nails off, seeking more distracting pain.

Seokjin rubbed his back, voice a little firmer. “Yoongi. Sweetheart. It’s time to choose. You can’t keep hurting like this.”

His bladder throbbed again, a pulsing, radiating pressure that made him gasp sharply against Seokjin’s chest. As if being talked about aloud made his bladder want to give a performance, it made itself the star of the show.

“Unlock it,” Yoongi whispered.

“I’ll help you stand,” Seokjin said. “I’ll walk with you. I won’t touch you unless you ask. But I’ll be there, okay?”

Yoongi didn’t answer, but something shifted in him that made him straighten his spine. A flicker of awareness returning to his eyes. Not hope, exactly. More like resignation. Defeat. Seokjin wanted to cheer and smile but he was too afraid to lose this moment of trust.

The older man helped him up gently, one hand steadying his lower back as Yoongi wobbled on uncooperative legs. The pain had stolen most of his strength, but adrenaline kept him upright. The walk across the nursery was excruciating. The stupid diaper wouldn’t let him clench his legs as tight as he hoped.

The toilet sat in the corner of the room like a shrine to humiliation: a small, white unit with rounded edges. A simple plastic lock teased Yoongi as he waited for the man to pull out the key and open it for him.
Yoongi’s steps slowed as they approached. His breath hitched. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he whispered, voice cracking. “This is the lowest I’ve ever—”

“No, it’s not,” Seokjin interrupted gently. “You’re asking for help. That is not failure. That’s bravery.”

He inserted the key into the toilet lock. A soft click signaling freedom for his body. Yoongi stood frozen as Seokjin pulled down his shorts and undid the onesie buttons at his crotch.

His whole body was aflame with shame, fists clenched, eyes wide with disbelief. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

Seokjin pulled the curtain around them. “It’s only us now. But your friends won’t judge you, baby.” Seokjin said, stepping back and sitting down a short distance away on a spare chair, still within view but not hovering. “You’re in control. I’m just here to make sure you’re safe.”

It took nearly a full minute for Yoongi to move again. He pulled down the diaper and sat. He was visibly shaking. He willed himself to go. Just as he got what he needed, his body wanted to stop itself, but his brain yelled at his bladder to finally release. He kept his eyes down the entire time, face burning so fiercely it looked fevered. The sound of peeing was almost immediate, but he didn’t look relieved. Seokjin could see so many emotions destroying him.

Tears streamed silently down his pale cheeks as his body let go. He couldn’t believe he had given into their sick plan. He had never once in his life planned to go to the bathroom in front of another man. Or crawl like a homeless puppy towards some food left out on the porch. He was giving these sickos everything they wanted because he didn’t know how to fight back.

When it was over, Yoongi buried his face in his hands, chest heaving with quiet sobs. “I hate myself,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I hate myself.”

“You don’t have to,” Seokjin said as he approached slowly with a warm wipe and a fresh pull-up. “You did the hardest thing, and you did it on your terms.”

“This isn’t my terms,” Yoongi said bitterly.

“But it was still your choice,” Seokjin replied, kneeling beside him. He gestured to the toilet and then pulled off the old diaper. “You chose not to suffer anymore. That’s power, Yoongi. You did so well. I’m so, so proud of you.”

The sound of the toilet flushing was loud and shocking. Yoongi brought his hands to his ears and sobbed. Seokjin cooed and wiped his face. The man’s praise hurt. It scraped against the rawness inside him like lemon juice on a paper cut. But Seokjin’s soft touches and praise was also the only thing keeping him from falling into a dark mental abyss of no return.

Seokjin helped him clean up gently and expertly. He gave no judgment to Yoongi and besides a few ‘good jobs’ and ‘I’m proud of yous’ unnecessary words. If Yoongi had been in his shoes he is certain he would have called Yoongi every disgusting word in the book. Seokjin was deliberate in how he changed Yoongi and cleaned him. He knew how much littles like this beat themselves up. His every movement was careful, honoring Yoongi’s dignity in ways he couldn’t see for himself.
When they were done, Seokjin guided him to the rocking chair. He pulled him close and wrapped a soft blanket around his shoulders. He pressed a kiss to Yoongi’s forehead and rocked the crying boy as he fell asleep in his arms.

Chapter Text

Yoongi jerked awake when the nursery door creaked open. The only light in the room was from the soft glow of a hallway light coming through the door window. He curled deeper under the thin blanket, trying to get his brain to mush back into its sleepy state. He didn’t need a clock to know it was still night and he had barely slept enough. A hand raked through his hair. Hoseok’s voice cut gently through the stillness of the room.

"Yoongi, honey, can you wake up for me?"

Yoongi frowned. “It’s not even morning.”

“I know and I’m very sorry” Hoseok cooed quietly but cheerily, as he leaned against the crib. “I need to take you and Jungkookie somewhere.”

That made Yoongi sit up, bleary and suspicious. “Why? Where?”

Seokjin entered the room and walked over to Yoongi, smiling down at him like he was tiny. Yoongi did feel a bit small with two caregivers towering over him. He held his signature clipboard and pen. “We need to go take a bath, baby.”

Jungkook sat up with a soft whimper, rubbing his eyes. Even though they had been whispering, Jungkook was a light sleeper. His curls were a sleepy mess, and his thumb found his mouth almost automatically. Seokjin walked over to him and lowered the crib bars. He reached in and picked the boy up like he weighed nothing, balancing him on his hip.

Yoongi furrowed his eyebrows. “I want a shower..”

“No, Yoongi,” Seokjin said gently, coming over to him while bouncing Jungkook. “You’re a little now. You get baths, not showers.”

“Then I’m not going,” the boy said, crossing his arms.

Hoseok lowered the side of Yoongi’s crib with practiced ease. “Buddy, it’s not a choice. You need a bath. Let us help you.”

“I’m fine. Just get me a wash cloth and leave me alone,” Yoongi said.

Seokjin tutted his tongue. “Wiping you down will only get you so far. Look at your hair, baby. It’s so greasy. You’ll feel so much better after a bath,”

Offended, Yoongi lifted his hand up to feel his hair. It did feel…grimy and gross. Admittedly, he did want to be clean. But, he didn’t want them to watch him. “I can wash myself,” Yoongi huffed, scooching off the mattress and swinging his feet down to the floor. “I don’t need help.”

Hoseok chuckled. “Silly baby,” and patted Yoongi’s back.

The man didn’t wait for consent or even warn Yoongi before he lifted him up into his arms with a practiced, calm efficiency. He put one arm under his knees and the other around his back. Yoongi squirmed, pushing against his chest. “Don’t call me that! I’m not a baby.”

“You’re gonna feel so much better after,” Hoseok soothed, not bothering to respond to the resistance beyond a soft hum. The caregivers quietly walked out of the nursery with the boys in their arms. Jungkook was sleeping in Seokjin’s arms, his head laid on his shoulders.

The hallway was silent except for the soft padding of their steps and Jungkook’s quiet snores. There were no other littles or caregivers. It was spooky to Yoongi as he glanced around trying to find any sign of life. It was a big contrast to the usual bustle around meal times when they would see people in scrubs and security everywhere.

The bathing room smelled of sweet fruity soaps and lemon cleaner. The overhead lights were fluorescent and washed the room out but there were racks of colorful towels against the wall. The tiles of the floor were heated, a nice touch as Yoongi was let down on the ground. There were 4 tubs stationed in the room that looked large enough to bathe multiple individuals at once. Only one had water filled in it. The tub sat in the center, already half-filled with gently steaming water and a few scattered rubber ducks floated on top.

“I’m not going in there,” Yoongi mumbled as Hoseok set him down beside the tub.

“You are,” Seokjin replied, kneeling beside the tub. “Do you want bubbles?”

“No,” he scoffed. Yoongi’s stare could have burned a hole through him. “This is messed up.”

Hoseok chuckled from the other side of the room as he pulled out a bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap. “It’s just a nice relaxing bath. Who knows, one day you might miss this tub.”

“Doubt it,” Yoongi said, arms crossed, glaring at the tub like it was a death trap.

Jungkook waddled over to the tub completely naked. Yoongi gasped and looked away. His cheeks felt hot from blushing. The boy wasted no time and hoisted his pale, lanky body into the water. Ungracefully, he plopped down and a gush of water slapped over the edge of the tub. Seokjin scolded him, but Jungkook smiled and melted into the warmth.

Yoongi hesitated. Hoseok was already approaching with a towel draped over his shoulder and a small basket of supplies. “Come on. In you go.”

“Can I please just take a shower?” Yoongi tried one last time, voice low and tight.

“Look around, Yoongi,” Hoseok said, "There are no showers here or in the entire facility.”

Of course there weren’t, Yoongi thought. Independent hygiene completely negated their idea of regression and reliance for survival. Sickening.

Seokjin knelt in front of him. “You’re taking a bath, baby. Now arms up.”

Baby. He hated that word. His jaw clenched and he went to correct the man but his voice cracked, traitorous, and Seokjin took the chance to strip his shirt off. Yoongi flinched and crossed his arms, tucking his hands into either armpit to cover his nipples. His pants followed next as well as the unused diaper. Yoongi was mortified to be naked in front of the men and Jungkook, but the boy in the water didn’t seem to care. Embarrassed from the situation, he dived into the tub to cover his nude self. Jungkook giggled at his antics.

Yoongi drew his knees to his chest, jaw clenched. He barely noticed the rubber duck that floated up against him until Jungkook pushed it gently toward him and smiled.

“Ducky,” Jungkook whispered.

Yoongi blinked. He hadn’t expected him to talk. His voice was sweet and he stared at Yoongi’s with a strange kind of focus. Like he anticipated a response from Yoongi.

“…Yes, ducky,” Yoongi muttered. He picked up the rubber toy and gave it a squeeze. The duck sprayed water from its lips to Yoongi’s surprise. Jungkook squealed with laughter and made another duck do the same thing. Yoongi copied him and accidentally squirted water into his face. Jungkook laughed, which made Yoongi’s stomach flip. He decided he liked to see Jungkook happy.

Out of nowhere, a new music started to play. It wasn’t a lullaby but that was still being played through the speakers. He looked up to see Hoseok fiddling around with his communication tablet. The music was coming from there. It sounded like the lofi music he would play in the background while he studied.

“Hoseok,” Seokjin warned.

“What,” the man innocently grinned, setting the tablet down. The music kept playing. “Our secret,” he said, winking at Yoongi, who blushed.

Seokjin sat behind him, rolling up his sleeves and dipping a soft sponge into the water. “Let’s get you all nice and clean.”

Yoongi tensed the second the sponge touched his back. “I can do it.”

“No, sweetheart. It’s my job to make sure you’re taken care of,” Seokjin said, voice like syrup. “Relax.”

“You wouldn’t be relaxed if you were in my position.”

Seokjin chuckled, ignoring the bite in his tone.

Yoongi sighed sharply but let him scrub. The sponge dragged slowly down his back and shoulders, working in circles. The scent of baby shampoo filled the air as he watched Hoseok scrub Jungkook’s hair.

Seokjin washed his arms, making sure to exfoliate his elbows and shoulders. Yoongi could remember the last time anyone had bathed him as he was pretty independent even as a small child. His arms were lifted as Seokjin applied more and scrubbed his armpits. He had to admit, he was glad to get rid of the built up deodorant. Then his chest and belly were scrubbed. It tickled a bit but he wouldn’t show it.

When Seokjin’s hands dipped below water and Yoongi felt the sponge touch his privates, he yelped. “Get your hands off!”

“You’re doing so good,” Seokjin said smoothly, like this was completely normal. “I’m almost done.”

Jungkook was watching them curiously as he himself was being scrubbed. Yoongi wanted to tell him to look away. To give him some privacy. But Jungkook probably meant no harm. He never seemed to have any malice behind anything he did.
Yoongi gazed at Jungkook, trying to take him in and imagine what he would be like in the real world. Jungkook’s adult body was thin but he was sure he could build up muscles. He guesses he was maybe nineteen, no— maybe twenty years old, just a little younger than Yoongi. He was beautiful and he probably would break hearts. But they have him trapped here missing out on what should be the best years of his life.

Yoongi grieved for the big eyed boy who had lost the most. He only hoped that if he ever got out of here, Jungkook could return to himself. It would be a tragedy to remain trapped in a fake happiness, being pushed around like the rubber duck he floated on the water.

“You’re being such a good boy, Yoongi,” Seokjin praised. He used a cup to scoop water and rinse Yoongi off.

Seokjin grabbed the bottle of baby shampoo and squeezed a dot directly onto Yoongi’s head. He gently massaged all of the boy’s scalp, smirking as Yoongi melted into the touch. “What a cutie,” Hoseok said. The tender rubbing lasted for nearly a minute as the man made sure to break up any oil and dead skin. He leaned Yoongi’s head back to rinse the shampoo.

The bath ended slowly. The plug was pulled out of the tub Hoseok dried Jungkook first, swaddling him in a towel and carrying him off to the changing table. Seokjin turned to Yoongi.

“Okay, big guy. Ready?”

Yoongi saw the diaper waiting on the counter and made a break for it. He splashed out of the tub, feet slapping the tile but his wet feet slid on the tiles. The man wrangled him into his arms. “Gotcha,” he murmured, scooping him up and cradling him against his chest. “You need to be careful, baby. You could’ve fallen.”

Yoongi struggled against him. “Let me go!”

“What’s gotten into you? You were so calm a minute ago.”

The boy huffed. “No diaper,” he said. “Don’t want the diaper.”

“My poor baby,” Seokin cooed. “You just need to accept that you’re always going to be in diapers from now on.”

Yoongi kicked out once more but was already wrapped in a towel, Seokjin pressing soft kisses to the top of his head like nothing had happened.

“Shh… You’re alright. You’re safe. Just breathe.”

He hated how his body responded to the tone, the warmth. He hated how it felt nice. It was scary how easily Seokjin’s tender touches could make his brain feel fuzzy and goosebumps raise on his skin. Jungkook was watching him again as he stopped struggling. The younger one was wrapped in his own diaper, waiting for Hoseok to get him dressed. He hummed along to the lofi beats, calm and used to the routine.

Seokjin held Yoongi close even after the towel had soaked through. He moved slowly, deliberately, like there was no rush at all, rocking slightly as he sat back on a padded bench near the changing table. Yoongi kept his face buried in the crook of Seokjin’s neck, shivering cold and seeking the only comfort he could get while also postponing the diaper.

“Good job in the bath,” Seokjin whispered, voice like a lullaby. “I know it was hard, but you did so well. You smell so fresh now.” He took a long, deep sniff of Yoongi’s head. “So much better. Just like a little baby.”

“I wanted a shower,” Yoongi muttered, but it came out small.

“I know,” Seokjin said, not arguing. “But you took a bath and you handled it so nicely.”

Yoongi felt the shift when Seokjin stood and carried him over to the changing table. It was padded in soft plastic, printed with ducks and stars. He wriggled weakly as Seokjin laid him down, but not enough to stop anything. His towel was peeled away, and the cold air hit his damp skin. He whined and tried to reach out for the wet towel.

“Give it back,” Yoongi whined, pouting his lip and giving puppy eyes unintentionally. “Cold.”

Hoseok chuckled from where he was slipping Jungkook into a powder blue jammies. “Just you wait for the very best perk of baths, cutie.”

“I’m not cute,” Yoongi snapped.

Seokjin only smiled, unfazed. “You're the cutest little one I’ve ever seen, baby.”

He held Yoongi’s ankles up with one hand and expertly slid the thick diaper beneath him. He lowered Yoongi back down and adjusted the diaper to hug his thighs and hips perfectly. I generous spray of white baby powder was applied. The scent of the powder filled the room and Yoongi wanted to gag at the sickly sweet smell. At one point, that may have been a very nice smell, but it was only associated now with his detainment at the facility. Yoongi turned his face away, jaw clenched, but his skin betrayed him again as his body relaxed as Seokjin’s warm hands rubbed lotion gently into his hips, his thighs, and his belly. Seokjin’s hands worked slowly, spreading cold lotion that quickly warmed under his touch. It made Yoongi’s skin crawl and crave the touch all at once.

The diaper crinkled as it was fastened snug around his waist. Seokjin patted the front, emphasizing the thickness and loudness of the plastic.

“There we go,” Seokjin said sweetly. “All padded up. No need to worry about anything, hmm?”

A soft yellow onesie came next, cotton and fleece-lined, with a row of duck buttons down the chest. Yoongi struggled weakly when Seokjin guided his arms through the sleeves. His eyes widened when he realized the fleece was warm. “Fresh out of the dryer,” Seokjin explained. “Only the best for my sweetest boy.”

He lifted Yoongi again, who felt humiliated but another strange feeling. His skin still prickled with warmth from the bath, his hair towel-damp and sticking to his forehead. But worse was the way Seokjin held him like he belonged to him. Like he was precious. Like this was normal.

Jungkook reached for them as they approached, arms outstretched from where Hoseok was fixing his pacifier clip.

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispered.

Yoongi took his hand and held it. Jungkook smiled warmly and wrapped both of his hands around Yoongi and glued himself to his side.

Seokjin chuckled. “He’s very fond of you.”

The walk back to the nursery was slow. Hoseok led the way. Jungkook toddling beside Seokjin, paci in his mouth and hand looped in Yoongi’s fingers. Seokjin carried Yoongi on his hip, humming softly under his breath. The music still played from the device in Hoseok’s back pocket. It felt like they were breaking the rules, but if it was the caregivers playing the music, he guessed they would be the ones in trouble.

They returned to Nursery Unit 7 quietly. The room was dim, a few soft lights glowing near the ceiling like moons. Seokjin settled Yoongi gently into his own crib. He covered him with the soft blanket and placed a single plush teddy bear in the crib, which he refused to touch.

“You did great today,” Seokjin whispered, brushing Yoongi’s damp bangs aside.

Yoongi didn’t answer. He only turned toward the wall and wished to be left alone.

“Let him rest,” Hoseok murmured.

Seokjin and Hoseok moved silently to the others. Taehyung was curled around a pillow he held close, his mouth slightly open with tiny snores coming out and Jimin lay flat on his back with one hand fisted in his blanket.

“Time for your baths,” Hoseok whispered, gently shaking Taehyung’s shoulder.

Jimin groaned when Seokjin touched him. “No,” he grunted. “Don’t want to.”

“We’ll be quick, sweetheart,” Seokjin replied. “Just come along.”

They didn’t cry out or fight, just grumbled sleepily and allowed themselves to be led from their cribs. The nursery door whispered shut behind them.

Yoongi waited.

He listened for footsteps fading down the hall, for the lullaby music to be the only sound he heard again. When he was sure he was alone with Jungkook, he shifted. The crib gate made a quiet creak as he climbed over it. He landed softly on the floor, padded feet silent against the rubber tiles. He moved to the next crib over. He grasped the bars of the crib and thought about the events of his time so far at the facility. He knew he was slowly giving into what they wanted. It was easier to survive that way. He would just have to forgive himself and work on forgetting everything when he gets out.

Jungkook was already asleep, curled tightly with his pacifier tucked in his mouth, arms wound around a blanket. His brow was relaxed, mouth slightly open. Yoongi hesitated, staring. He still looked his age in his sleep, he thought. Just smaller somehow. Softer.

With a deep breath, Yoongi climbed in beside him. He expected Jungkook to wake, to fuss, but the boy only stirred slightly and shifted, reaching blindly to curl into Yoongi’s side.
“Hyung,” he whispered again, barely audible. “Stay.”

Yoongi froze. Then, slowly, he let himself relax. The crib was small with the two of them filling it out. He tried to match his breathing to the younger’s, slow and deep. Yoongi closed his eyes and let him fall asleep with a protective arm around Jungkook’s waist.

🪐✨️

Breakfast had been uneventful, though as usual Yoongi barely touched his food. His stomach still throbbed from the night before, but it wasn’t just physical anymore. He felt embarrassed and hollow. He was ashamed of himself but it was easier this morning to ask for the toilet to get unlocked. Seokjin had praised him but Yoongi begged him to be quiet and look away. Using the restroom with someone’s help left him feeling dirty in a way that warm wipes and soft voices couldn’t wash away. Jimin didn’t speak to anyone that morning either. He sat beside Yoongi, arms folded, eyes scanning every adult like they were threats.

They were out of their usual routine and Jimin appeared to be the most suspicious of them. Normally they would be taken straight to group therapy from the dining hall. Seokjin and Hoseok had said nothing to indicate a schedule change at wake up time. They brought them to the playroom attached to their nursery. Taehyung and Jungkook played with sensory toys for a while. They both looked at the same level of regression today. Yoongi noticed that Taehyung often teetered between being as low as Jungkook and high as Jimin.

“They’re up to something,” Jimin commented.

Yoongi picked at the skin by his thumb. “What usually happens when you guys don’t follow the schedule?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin said. “Never happened before.”

When Namjoon entered, everyone stiffened. He walked with purpose and a clinical smile, hands behind his back. Seokjin straightened his back from where he stood at the sink, rinsing bottles. He dried his hands off and nodded to Namjoon.

"Good morning, Unit 7," Namjoon said in a merry tone. "Taehyung, Jungkook, we have an exciting morning. Please come with me."

Taehyung looked up slowly, his body tense. Jungkook was curled against him on the mat, thumb in mouth, Cooky clutched in one arm. They didn’t move.

"Come on now," Namjoon said, his voice still even but firmer.

“Where we going,” Taehyung meekly asked.

“I have some special people who want to meet you.”

Seokjin grabbed one of Taehyung’s hands between both of his and helped him stand. “Kookie’s coming with,” the boy asked Seokjin. The man nodded and hoisted Jungkook from the ground.

Jimin stood abruptly. "No. They’re not going anywhere."

"It’s okay, sweetheart," Seokjin added gently. “They’ll be back soon. It’s just a short meeting.”

Yoongi stood too, heart thumping. "Where are you taking them?"

"You boys don’t need to worry, " Namjoon said. “Your friends are going to be fine.”

“Then we should go too,” Jimin snapped. “Or they should stay. Don’t separate us.”

Namjoon shook his head and smiled. “You’re not ready, Jiminie. One day you’ll get to go to meetings like this, too. But our Taehyungie and Jungkookie have worked so hard to get this far. Don’t ruin this for them.”

“They’ll be okay,” Seokjin assured. “I promise.”

Taehyung’s lip trembled as he stood still, firmly holding Jungkook’s hand. He tried to act brave for the younger little. “Come on, Kookie,” he says. Jungkook whined quietly but obeyed. They took slow, reluctant steps forward.

Yoongi moved to intercept, panic rising. He ran ahead and stood in front of the door, arms outstretched. His heart raced as all eyes looked at him in surprise. He didn’t know who the boys were going to meet or what they would do to them. They needed someone looking out for them. “No,” he said. “You can’t take them.”

Namjoon raised a brow, but it was Hoseok who moved forward. “Yoongi,” the caregiver said firmly. “Step aside, buddy.”

“No,” Yoongi repeated. “They don’t want to go. Don’t you see that?”

Taehyung stopped walking. Jungkook clung tighter to his side. Both boys looked to Seokjin then back to Yoongi. They felt frozen. Their newest roommate was in so much distress and it was starting to cause panic in both of them.

“Yoongi, sweetheart, I know you’re trying to help them,” Hoseok said gently as he approached, “but you need to let go. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. They deserve to have their happy ending.”

“Then let me come with,” Yoongi requested. “I’ll make sure they don’t end up with bad people..”

Hoseok’s tone darkened. “This is your last chance, little one. Move.”

When Yoongi didn’t, Hoseok wrapped his arms around him and pulled him back. Yoongi kicked, struggling violently. “No! Let me go!”

Seokjin approached the youngest boys quickly and placed a reassuring hand on each of their backs. “Come on, boys. It’s alright. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Jungkook looked terrified. He stared at Yoongi being restrained, and his mouth opened in a silent cry. “Hyung!” he shouted suddenly, voice breaking. “Hyuuung!”

Yoongi thrashed. “Let me go! He’s calling me—let me go to him!”

Jimin shot up beside him. “Don’t take them! You monsters! Don’t touch them!”

Taehyung whispered something to Jungkook, and they hesitantly followed Seokjin through the door. The sound of the digit lock beeped, teasing Yoongi and Jimin. Jungkook’s wails didn’t stop. “Hyung! Hyung,” he sobbed, Cooky falling from his arm as he was led out.

Yoongi collapsed to his knees. He pulled the pink stuffed animal to his chest and squeezed it impossibly tight. Namjoon whispered something to Hoseok and left the room, following the small group.

Hoseok let a loud annoyed breath out of his nose. Jimin looked up at him with tears glazing his eyes. He felt so betrayed. Hoseok always seemed to care about them, even in his sickly sweet way. All Jimin saw now was a criminal, abetting in destroying lives. Jimin’s voice cracked as he let out a guttural growl. “How could you do this? Do you have any idea what you’ve done to us? You’re selling us to sick freaks! You must be the sickest fucker to ever exist! Are your parents proud? Do they know what you do?”

He kicked a chair across the room with a loud crash. “You don’t care about healing anyone! You want obedience! You want broken little dolls you can dress up and hand out!”

Hoseok’s voice sharpened. “Jimin. That’s enough. Sit down now.”

“Or what?” Jimin sneered. “You’ll drug me again? Strap me down and sing lullabies until I forget my own name?”

He shoved a large shelf. Cardboard books tumbled all around the floor. He picked one up and threw it, aiming for Hoseok’s head but the man ducked despite still having both arms restraining Yoongi. “You’re all sick! You know that? This place is the lowest level of hell!”

The small boy in the caregiver’s arms used all of his bodyweight to try and wrestle from the man’s arms. Hoseok held Yoongi tighter. “Yoongi, baby, stay with me. Don’t move. Please. Jimin’s being very naughty and I don’t want you to get in trouble, too.”

“Let me go!” Yoongi cried. “He’s scared! He needs help!”

“He’s going to get consequences,” Hoseok said. “And I don’t want that for you.”

Jimin ripped the head off a plush bear and stomped it underfoot. “None of you care! You just smile and take notes while we forget who we are!”

Hoseok moved them backwards with a struggling Yoongi trying to elbow him. He kicked the glass door backwards, trying to gain the attention of anyone in the hall. A passing caregiver heard him and ran to the door with wide eyes. Hoseok shouted through the glass. “Code green. Requesting medical support in Unit 7. One little is escalating beyond verbal de-escalation. Sedation is necessary.”

Yoongi shook his head, frantic. “No, Hoseok, no! Please, don’t—don’t hurt him. I’ll stop, okay? Please leave Jimin alone,” Yoongi begged, stilling his actions.

“It doesn’t matter! He gets off to this,” Jimin screamed, pointing at the caregiver. “You think you’re helping? We were people before this. Before you shoved diapers on us and took our freedom!”

The door opened. Two caregivers entered quickly, syringe already drawn. Jimin backed up fast, breathing heavily.

“No! Get away from me,” he said, scratching at the new men.

“You don’t want to do this,” one man hissed. A dark pink scratch was prevalent on his neck but he remained unfazed. He managed to stand behind the angry little and grab both of his hands, pulling them against his chest so he couldn’t use them any more.

The other caregiver uncapped the syringe and pulled Jimin’s shorts up to access the back of his thight. The caregiver struck cleanly. Yoongi cried as he watched his friend look so helpless. The sedative hit the bloodstream within seconds. Jimin staggered forward, eyes trying to roll back. He managed to reach for a shelf to brace himself. “Yoongi…” he mumbled, before collapsing.

Hoseok let go of Yoongi, who ran to the unconscious boy and dropped beside him. The room was trashed. The lullabies still played on loop. The caregivers talked to each other over them, debriefing on the situation. They talked about Yoongi, labeling him a low risk now that Jimin was out. Hoseok said he would follow up with Namjoon immediately for further instructions.

Yoongi looked up at Hoseok one last time. His eyes stung and he was so tired. His voice was hoarse. “Please… let us go.”

Chapter Text

Seokjin’s hand was firm on the small of Taehyung’s back as he guided him and Jungkook down the stark hallway. The boys’ sniffles came in shaky bursts, Jungkook clutching Seokjin’s hand so tightly the man’s fingers were losing feeling. Their onesies felt suffocating. Their bare feet were freezing against the cold tile. They were left in minimal clothing, every detail of their looks chosen to make them feel smaller and feel smaller.

At the far end of the corridor, Namjoon waited, tablet in hand, posture sharp and unforgiving. Jungkook’s grip on Seokjin’s fingers tightened until it almost hurt.

“Wait,” Namjoon said quietly, and Seokjin halted the group immediately. Namjoon stepped forward, his shoes clicking crisply.

“You’re about to meet very important guests,” Namjoon said, voice smooth and even. “Do you know what that means?”

Taehyung shook his head, whispering, “No.”

“It means,” Namjoon continued, crouching to meet their eyes, “that you will be perfect. You will smile. You will obey whatever we tell you to. No tears, please. Remember, this is a happy event. You’re so close to finding your forever homes. They’re going to ask questions. Answer politely if spoken to. Do you understand?”

Taehyung nodded quickly. Jungkook remained frozen, eyes glued to the floor. He wrapped his arms around his waist, squeezing himself.

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed on Jungkook. “Jungkookie?”

A small tremble passed over Jungkook’s lips, but no sound came.

Namjoon’s hand brushed gently along Jungkook’s cheek. “There’s that sweet baby bunny face,” he murmured. “They will love the both of you.”

He turned to Seokjin. “Wipe their faces. Fix their collars. No tears, no wrinkles. They are a representation of us today.”

As Namjoon turned his back, Seokjin crouched beside the boys. His hands were gentle as he wiped away the dampness from Taehyung’s cheeks with a soft cloth, lingering on the small curve of his jaw.

“Hey,” Seokjin murmured quietly, voice low and warm. “You’re going to be okay. Just breathe with me, alright?”

Taehyung’s lip quivered but he nodded slightly.

Seokjin’s fingers brushed a stray lock of hair behind Jungkook’s ear. “And you,” he said softly, “you’re doing so well. I see you, even when you don’t say a word.”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered up briefly, meeting Seokjin’s with a fragile trust before dropping back down. Seokjin took a deep breath, swallowing the knot of guilt tightening in his throat. “Just a little while longer,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m right here.”

He stood and adjusted the boys’ collars with practiced precision, smoothing creases from their onesies. Neither boy protested, their small bodies heavy with exhaustion and fear. Seokjin took their hands gently. “Ready?” The boys nodded almost imperceptibly.

Namjoon tapped his tablet sharply. “Now. Walk them in.”

The double doors slid open with a soft hiss, spilling harsh light into the hallway.

Seokjin inhaled, heart pounding, and stepped forward.

Jungkook and Taehyung were red eyed and willing themselves not to cry when they were led into the bright, sterile room. Their cheeks were blotchy, lips trembling as Seokjin guided them forward by the hand like toddlers being introduced to a classroom. They’d been ripped away from their unit mates only moments earlier. Yoongi’s pleading voice and Jimin’s shouts still rang faintly in their ears, reverberating in their skulls like an echo they couldn’t shake.

The room looked like a toy store showroom, not the therapy rooms they were used to. There was a cheerful play mat in the center, shelves stocked with neatly arranged toys, a fake rocking chair with pastel blankets draped over it. And waiting for them were ten strangers, all well-dressed adults sitting in a neat semi-circle of chairs, files resting on their laps. Some held polite smiles stretched too wide.

Jungkook froze the instant he saw them. His entire body went rigid, small hand locking tighter in Taehyung’s as his wide, wet eyes darted across the crowd. He hadn’t seen a non-employee in so long that it didn’t feel real. He scanned all of their faces, wondering if he would recognize anyone. Hopeful that someone he knew was going to find him and get him out of this face. His heart dropped as he realized they were all total strangers. Taehyung felt his own cheeks burn as he became painfully aware of how silly they had to look. They had matching pastel onesies that snapped between their legs. They aren’t allowed shoes here, no point if they weren’t ever touching anything but soft mats and carpets. Seokjin had brushed their hair extra fluffy this morning and now he knew why. Jungkook’s outfit had the always present pacifier clipped to his chest. It bobbed as he moved forward.

Namjoon stepped forward like a master of ceremonies. His smile was calm, polished, rehearsed. “Good morning, everyone,” he said smoothly. “Thank you for visiting us today. We’re thrilled for you to meet two of our most precious little boys.”

He crouched down in front of Jungkook and Taehyung, voice syrupy sweet. “Can you wave hello, boys? Just like we practiced?”

Jungkook’s body stiffened further. His lips parted slightly, hand twitching once, but he couldn’t make himself move. He stared at the floor, trembling like a leaf. Taehyung hesitated, but Seokjin’s gentle squeeze on his shoulder made him raise his hand, cheeks hot with shame.

Namjoon didn’t miss a beat. He looked up at the guests with a warm, apologetic smile. “Ah, Jungkookie’s gone nonverbal,” he explained calmly, placing a large hand on Jungkook’s tiny shoulder. “It often happens when he’s feeling especially safe and relaxed. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Jungkook flinched at the touch but didn’t respond.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” one woman cooed. “He feels so comfortable here he doesn’t even need words.”

Namjoon nodded, stroking Jungkook’s hair like he was a beloved pet. “Exactly. It’s a sign of deep trust.”

He then nodded toward the play mat. “Sit, please.”

Jungkook fell to the ground, shuffling forward and plopping down cross-legged on the mat like a puppy. Taehyung followed slower, shoulders hunched, painfully aware of how his thighs rubbed against the thin fabric of the onesie as he moved. He hated how quiet the room was, how the strangers’ eyes lingered on every detail of them.

“Now,” Namjoon continued, hands behind his back, “our guests are here to see what good boys you’ve become. Can you show them how you crawl to me?”

Jungkook scooted forward on his bottom. It was good enough for Namjoon. He ducked his head so low he nearly crawled face first into the man’s shoes. He sat back on his heels, small hands clutching Namjoon’s trouser leg. The woman in the front row gasped softly, charmed.

“Taehyungie? Show them how you crawl. Like during play time.” Namjoon prompted.

Heat rushed to Taehyung’s ears as he crawled too, slow and clumsy, his face burning with humiliation as every set of eyes tracked his movement. He wanted to cry but forced himself to keep going. Namjoon patted both their heads when they reached him. “See how easy they are?” he said to the guests. “Our boys are trained to be obedient and eager to please.”

A man in the back raised his hand like he was in a classroom. “Do they talk much?”

Namjoon gestured to Jungkook, who was pressed against his leg like a small shadow. “Little Jungkookie goes nonverbal often, as you’ve seen. It’s a special stage of regression we’re very proud of. He’s pretty easy to understand. Plenty of non-verbal cues..”

The guests murmured approvingly. One man nodded. “That’s perfect. He won’t talk back or cause trouble.”

Namjoon crouched and cupped Jungkook’s cheek. “Can you let every one hear your sweet voice, sweetheart?”

Jungkook blinked up at him, lips parting slightly, but no sound came out. His fingers twisted tighter into Namjoon’s pant leg.

Namjoon chuckled softly and tousled his hair. “That’s okay, baby. We know you’re listening, don’t we?” He turned back to the guests. “He speaks occasionally. Seokjin, my assistant here,” he said, gesturing to the caregiver, “can attest to how easy going he is.”

“What about the other boy,” a man asked. “He seems to be slower to respond.”

“Taehyung,” Seokjin began, “talks when he is prompted too. Rarely has he talked out of turn. He is truly a good boy.”

Another hand flew up. “Do they understand discipline?”

“Of course,” Namjoon said.

“How does bathing work,” a woman with a short head of hair spiked with gel asked. She pursed her lips as she waited for an answer. “My home does not have a bath tub, only a shower.”

Namjoon thought about it before he answered carefully. “They are bathed in tubs in our facility. Neither of these boys are allowed to bathe themselves. We encourage them to keep their hands to themselves while being bathed to allow caregivers to bathe them. If you only have a shower, I recommend that you shower with them so they are 100% supervised.”

Taehyung’s face burned deeply. The thought of showering with a stranger was disgusting and dangerous. He really hoped that never happened to him.

One person, who seemed confused on the entire process even asked. “How often do they… regress like this?”

Namjoon explained that this was a permanent regression. “To ensure they stay in their regressed headspaces, we do not endorse allowing them to act as adults. It will only harm how far they’ve come and confuse their little minds.”

Some guests asked odd questions related to their health. The boys’ bodies were manipulated to show themselves off to the potential adopters. Namjoon answered smoothly as Seokjin guided the boys through small humiliations. “Open wide,” Seokjin instructed gently, holding Jungkook’s chin so a guest could peer into his mouth. Jungkook trembled but obeyed, lips peeling back in a silent show of submission.

“Can we see how much they weigh?” another guest asked.

A man in a gray suit suddenly stepped forward and scooped Jungkook off the floor. Jungkook’s entire body went rigid. He yelped and his small hands clawed at the man’s blazer, silent panic filling his eyes.

“Oh—” Seokjin immediately stepped forward, voice strained. “He doesn’t—”

“It’s alright,” the man interrupted casually. “I just want to see how difficult it would be to hold him.”

Jungkook squirmed, legs kicking helplessly, but the man only adjusted his grip, holding the boy out slightly as though assessing the weight of a bag of groceries.

“Light,” the man commented. “Easy to carry.”

“Please,” Seokjin said, forcing a polite smile, “let me take him.”

The man handed Jungkook over, and Seokjin immediately settled him on his hip, bouncing him gently until the boy clung to his shirt and buried his face in his shoulder.

“Seokjin,” Namjoon said pointedly, “why don’t you explain your role to our guests?”

Seokjin tightened his grip on Jungkook as though shielding him. “I’m a primary caregiver in the unit of Jungkook and Taehyung.” he said evenly. “I oversee their day-to-day care, help regulate emotions, and ensure they stay on the path of regressions.”

“What a difficult job that must be,” a guest commented.

Seokjin looked at Taehyung and bounced Jungkook higher on his side. “It’s all worth it to see their precious smiles.”

Another guest leaned forward, eyeing Taehyung. “Do you ever spank them? Or… is there another form of punishment?”

Seokjin hesitated. “We try not to use physical pun—”

Namjoon cut him off smoothly, smiling. “Once they’re adopted,” he said, voice low and commanding, “it’s up to their new caregivers to decide how their littles live. Our role ends at the point of placement.”

The implication hung heavy. Seokjin’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing more.

A woman in apale blue dress tilted her head at Taehyung. She had been asking questions and staring at him the entire meeting. “He’s beautiful,” she said, stroking his hair. “Hi, sweetheart. Can you call me Mommy?”

Taehyung’s lips trembled. He didn’t want to, but she was smiling at him like he was special. “...Mommy,” he whispered.

She beamed. “Oh, you’re perfect. Do you want to come home with me?”

Something inside Taehyung flickered. He licked his lips and looked at her mouth as he talked, avoiding her eyes. “I want to go home.”

She smiled, assuming the boy wanted to join her.

Maybe she could be nice. Maybe if he went with her, life wouldn’t be so bad. He dared to ask, voice small, “If I come with you… can I bring my friends too? Can Jungkook come?”

Her expression softened almost with pity. “Oh, sweet boy. I only have room for one.”

Taehyung’s stomach sank. He looked back at Jungkook, who sat silently on Seokjin’s hip, pacifier in his mouth, clinging to the man’s shirt. He wanted to scream that he wouldn’t go without them, but the woman stroked his cheek again, and he didn’t move.

“Do you like hugs, baby?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” he whispered, cheeks hot. He wanted a hug, he didn't care who it was from. Taehyung craved comfort.

She patted her lap. “Come here then. Show me what a snuggly boy you are.”

Taehyung obeyed, climbing into her lap as she wrapped her arms around him. She rocked him slightly, cooing in his ear. “You’d be so easy to take care of. So soft. So quiet.”

One man leaned toward Namjoon. “Do they sleep through the night? What about bathroom training?”

Namjoon smiled. “We encourage diapers 24/7 for simplicity. Less stress for everyone. And yes, they sleep soundly.”

“Taehyung often wakes at night and goes into his unit mate’s bed,” Seokjin said.

Namjoon gave him a disapproving look and clarified to the group. “He seeks the company of others. Perhaps he would be a great candidate for anyone looking for someone to snuggle at night.” Namjoon paused, and looked at Taehyung. “But if you want him or any little one to stay in their own crib, they sell crib covers to prevent late night escapades.”

“You must tell us, what brand of diaper do you use with so many littles using them in this place?” another asked casually.

The main caregiver chuckled. Seokjin stiffened as Namjoon knelt and unfastened Jungkook’s onesie snaps in the back, tugging the fabric up just enough to tug lightly on the waistband of his diaper in front of the guests. Jungkook whimpered softly into Seokjin’s shoulder.

“See?” Namjoon said, letting it snap back into place. “No leaks, no fuss.”

A woman raised her hand. “Can we take pictures?”

Namjoon gestured to the Polaroid camera on a table. “Of course. For your records.”

The guests asked for various poses. It was uncomfortable for the littles and their caregiver. The flash popped repeatedly as Jungkook and Taehyung were documented hugging stuffed animals they’d been handed, sitting in each other’s laps, even on Seokjin’s hip. Each click felt like another piece of their identities stolen.

By the time they were finally led from the room, Taehyung’s cheeks were wet, though he didn’t know when he started crying. Jungkook’s pacifier was back in his mouth, his small hand holding Taehyung’s. Namjoon followed behind them, satisfied, as the guests murmured about which little they might want to “take home.”

🪐✨️
The nursery was dim, the soft hum of the ventilation the only sound. Yoongi lay curled on his side on a mat, finally asleep after hours of silent tears. Hoseok sat in the rocking chair near the door, one leg crossed over the other, eyes fixed on nothing.
The latch clicked softly. Two men in gray uniforms stepped into the room, their movements swift and efficient. Wordlessly they walked over to Jimin’s mat. He was still sedated, his body limp as one of the men bent and lifted him carefully into his arms.

Hoseok stood, blocking their path. “Where are you taking him?” he asked quietly.

“He is to be with Namjoon,” the taller man said, his voice low but firm. “Until we receive further instructions.”

Hoseok’s jaw tightened, but he stepped aside. “Be careful with him,” he murmured.

The men left as silently as they’d come, the door closing softly behind them. Hoseok looked back at the room. Yoongi was still sleeping, Jimin’s nap mat was now empty. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face.

Time passed mundanely. When the door beeped opened again, it was Seokjin who entered first, Jungkook perched on his hip, Taehyung trailing behind with tired, swollen eyes.

“Shhh,” Hoseok whispered, raising a finger to his lips. “Yoongi’s asleep.”

Taehyung nodded quickly and brought himself to the floor with Jungkook, who was already pulling a box of crayons from the shelf. They both settled with coloring books at the low table, their small bodies hunched close as if trying to disappear into the activity. The morning had thoroughly exhausted them.

Seokjin set a few supplies down before sitting on the edge of the play mat with his back to the wall. His face looked just a tired as the littles’. “How bad was it?” he asked Hoseok in a hushed tone.

Hoseok shook his head, leaning close so his voice wouldn’t carry. “Honestly, I think I’m in way too over my head. Namjoon wants us to meet after lunch. He messaged me. Things are changing. We’ve been too lenient with them according to him.”

Seokjin’s expression flickered, the faintest shadow of worry before he nodded. “Understood.”

Yoongi stirred at the sound of their voices, his eyelids fluttering. He blinked up blearily, the empty space where Jimin’s mat had been catching his attention immediately. He sat up slowly, the pit in his stomach forming before he could even form words.

“Where’s Jimin?”

Seokjin and Hoseok looked over, their expressions neutral, unreadable. Jungkook glanced up from his coloring and immediately scooted closer to Yoongi, sensing the tension. Taehyung’s crayon stilled mid-stroke.

“He’s with Namjoon,” Hoseok said simply, his voice soft but final. “Now sit with your friends and color, please.”

Yoongi’s heart pounded as Jungkook leaned into his side. Jimin being separated from them filled him with dread. Jimin was their main protector. Yoongi wasn’t sure he could be the source of strength the others needed if he was the one in charge. He could see Taehyung’s eyes dart toward him, wide and frightened. The boy forced himself to nod and crawl over to the table. He would obey for now.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Please stay with me,” he whispered to the other boys.

Taehyung scooted from his spot at the table and pressed close against Yoongi’s other side. The three of them sat huddled together on the mat, pretending to color as Seokjin and Hoseok kept their quiet watch.

🪐✨️

Jimin woke in restraints.

His eyes opened to a sterile gray room, the overhead light too bright, humming softly. Every joint ached from sedation. He tried to move, but wide padded straps held him fast at his wrists, elbows, chest, waist, thighs, and ankles. His chin was secured by a brace that locked his head upright, making him feel like a specimen under examination. The air was cold. He could smell antiseptic.

The door opened. Namjoon entered with his usual unhurried precision, black scrubs pristine, tablet balanced in one hand. His expression was mild as he crouched so they were eye-level.

“Good,” Namjoon said softly. “You’re awake.”

Jimin swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Where… where am I?”

“In a safe place,” Namjoon replied evenly. “Do you remember what you did this morning?”

Jimin clenched his jaw. “I didn’t—”

“You endangered your unit,” Namjoon interrupted, his voice like a blade wrapped in velvet. “You frightened them. You frightened Jungkookie. That is unacceptable.”

“You took them from me,” Jimin cried.

“Your nursery is a mess. I can only imagine how disappointed your friends are in you.”

“They're not- they wouldn't be,” Jimin said, trying to lift his head and explain.

“You've made things so difficult, Jimin. It's not fair to the others how you're always trying to set them up for failure. I won't stand for this any longer.”

He stood and gestured toward the door. Two orderlies entered, pushing a tall, narrow metal frame on a rolling base. Its straps gleamed under the light.

Jimin’s heart kicked painfully in his chest. “No,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Namjoon corrected calmly. “I called this Corner Time. This will help you remember your place.”

The orderlies unbuckled him from the chair only to manhandle him into the standing frame. Straps tightened across his chest, waist, and legs until he could barely draw a full breath. A curved bar pressed hard behind his knees, forcing his legs to lock straight. His toes barely touched the base plate, leaving him straining for balance.

They wheeled him into the far corner of the room and left him facing a blank wall, his breath fogging faintly in the cold.

A soft chime rang overhead. It was a recorded voice that sounded familiar. Almost like his mother's if he remembered right.

"You are a bad boy, Jimin. Bad boys forget the rules. Bad boys endanger their family. You must be small. You must be safe. You must be quiet."

The recorded voice began to loop slowly, monotonously, the syllables sinking into the silence like drops of acid.

Namjoon stepped behind him, lowering his voice to a gentle murmur. “Every ache in your body will teach you. Every second you stand here will remind you that you are not in control. When I believe you understand, I’ll take you down.”

Then the door closed, leaving Jimin alone.

At first, he tried to fight it. He shifted his weight from one burning foot to the other, pressed against the straps until his shoulders ached. But the frame allowed no relief. The pressure behind his knees cut off circulation, sending pins and needles screaming down his calves.

Time stretched, each minute an eternity. His muscles quivered, then spasmed violently. Sweat slicked his hairline despite the cold. The recorded voice was a constant, inescapable pulse in his ears.

"You are a bad boy. Bad boys must be corrected. You will regress. You will obey."

Jimin whimpered before he could stop himself. The pain was becoming unbearable. His legs felt hollow, as though the bones themselves might shatter. He wanted to shift, to bend, to fall, but the straps locked him upright like a doll pinned to a board.

Tears slipped down his face. He hadn’t realized how weak he’d become in the nursery. So much muscle tone he’d lost after months of mostly crawling and being carried. He hadn’t had to stand for more than a few minutes at a time in so long. Standing was agony now, every nerve screaming for him to collapse.

But he couldn’t collapse.

The recording whispered, "You must be small. You must be safe. You must be quiet."

Jimin bit his lip until it bled, choking back a sob. “Please, let me go. I'm sorry,” he begged.

The door clicked open eventually. Jimin didn’t know how long it had been. His eyes snapped up as Namjoon’s calm figure filled the doorway.

“Still awake,” Namjoon observed. “That’s good. Learning can’t happen when you’re asleep.”

Jimin’s body trembled violently, his breath ragged. Namjoon stepped close, brushing hair gently from his clammy forehead.

Jimin spat directly in his face.

The saliva hit Namjoon’s cheek and slid down slowly. For a long, breathless moment, Namjoon didn’t move. Then he reached into his pocket, withdrew a handkerchief, and wiped his face clean with unnerving calm.

“A free mouth,” he said softly, “is a privilege. You’ve just lost it.”

He produced a thick pacifier gag and shoved it into Jimin’s mouth, buckling the straps tightly behind his head. Jimin let out a strangled cry, jaw locked open around the rubber nipple.

Namjoon’s lips curved faintly. “Much better. Quiet boys learn faster.”

He left him there again. Jimin tried to lean most of his body weight towards his top, hoping the pressure would go off his feet and give him some relief. However, it made the straps of the restraint squeeze his shoulders. He had to return to standing with all weight on the balls of his feet, legs shaking and wishing to be freed.

When Jimin was finally unstrapped, his legs collapsed instantly, his body too wracked with pain to hold him. The orderlies carried him limp and shaking to the therapy chair, strapping him down once more.

Namjoon held up a large bottle of water. “You’re dehydrated. You need to drink.”

Jimin tried to turn his head away, but Namjoon forced the spout between his lips. He kept one hand holding Jimin’s chin so the bottle couldn’t be moved away. Water flooded his mouth until his stomach felt stretched and full, his body trembling with the effort of keeping it down. He gagged.

The man put the empty bottle next to Jimin. He reached out to rub Jimin's soft tummy. It jiggled a bit from all the water. Namjoon pressed a button on his tablet.

Various taunting noises filled the room. Dripping water filled the room. Slow. Then faster. The sound of a faucet gushing, of a toilet flushing. The pacifier gag was replaced in his mouth.

Jimin flinched, his bladder tightening painfully.

The man tutted. “I'm afraid we've been too lenient with you, Jiminie. I apologize for that. I want stability in rules, but we started you off with too much freedom.”

Jimin looked at him incredulously, as if the man had grown a second head. Jimin couldn't believe what he was hearing. In what way were they giving him freedom?

“Until now, you were given access to a toilet. That is no longer an option. Every staff member will be made aware of this. When you return to your nursery, the toilet will be gone. Don't worry, we are removing temptations from all of your unit mates as well. None of you will get to use toilets. That's equality.”

Jimin shook his head and tried to plead through his pacifier gag.

“Shhh,” Namjoon tried to quiet him. “You've had what you need all along. These diapers will always be on and ready to help you potty.”

“Nnn,” Jimin tried to refuse.

“I want you to use your diaper. Show me what a good little boy you are.” Namjoon crouched beside him, voice low and even. “Your bladder will ache with all the water you’ve had. That’s natural. Eventually you will lose control and it will be so easy to just let yourself go when you need to. You will sit here, and you will listen, and you will let go.”

Satisfied with his taunting, Namjoon started repeating his phrases again. The sounds of moving water provide a tense background.

"You are little now, Jimin. Littles don’t make big choices. Littles don’t ask for toilets. Littles don’t need them."

"You will be soft and small. Dependent. Quiet. Helpless. You will stay that way forever, and you will make safe choices."

Jimin’s muscles quaked violently as he tried to hold on, every nerve screaming. He wanted to fight, but the pain was unbearable. Tears burned down his cheeks as the inevitable happened. His bladder gave way, warmth flooding beneath him, soaking the chair.

Namjoon straightened, voice soft with satisfaction. “There it is. Proof you’re exactly what I’ve said you are, a little baby. Not in control of your body.”

He spoke into his tablet's microphone. “Requesting help with a diaper change.”

Four orderlies entered, immediately taking in the soaked chair and the humiliated boy strapped in it.

“Our little one had an accident,” Namjoon said calmly. “He’ll need a change.”

They lifted Jimin onto a padded changing table, securing straps across his chest and thighs. One man smirked down at him. “God, look at him,” the orderly said with a cruel laugh.

“Doesn’t even look like a man anymore. What’s the point of something that small,” another teased as he wiped Jimin’s front.

Jimin’s entire body flushed red. He wanted to disappear.

Namjoon’s lips curled faintly. “It’s alright,” he said, observing the used pee filled diaper. “It’s useless now anyway. Littles don’t need that.”

He lifted his tablet and snapped a photo of the diaper. He commented on how heavy and used it was. How badly Jimin had tried not to go. Jimin had hot tears streaming into his ears and hair. Namjoon took another picture of the boy's face.

“Proof of progress,” Namjoon announced as he tapped the screen, sending it to Seokjin and Hoseok. “Your caregivers will be so pleased.”

The orderlies cleaned him slowly, deliberately, their hands dragged unkindly as they roughly wiped and moved him around to get the diaper just right. Powder was applied and the crinkle of plastic resounded in the room as the diaper was taped into place.

When it was over, Namjoon dismissed them. The men left with bowed heads. The door closed, leaving Jimin strapped to the changing table, shaking. “I'll have to get someone in here to clean all the tinkle off the chair. You really had to go, huh?”

Namjoon stroked his hair almost tenderly. “Thank you for proving my point,” he whispered. He left Jimin's side momentarily and grabbed his chair from the center of the room. He lifted it and walked back to Jimin, setting the chair down next to the cried out semi-nude boy. He pulled up his notes on his tablet and cleared his throat. “Now where were we? Ah, little boys are helpless and need their caregivers to make their decisions for them. There is no use fighting back as it only leads to trouble…”