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all the faint lights

Summary:

maybe that’s part of it, too—he just wants to kiss jeongguk because he wants to, because he can. they could live here in this cottage, and yoongi could get a bigger bed. they could wander the woods hand in hand, stop at lakes to visit the merpeople and fairies that live deep in the trees. they could have everything right here.

yoongi lays his head back on jeongguk’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. jeongguk curls his fingers in yoongi’s hair, and for a moment—it feels like they’re already there.

(or: they weren’t supposed to fall in love.)

Notes:

this is based off of k. by cigarettes after sex if u wanna listen uwu

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

they fall into bed the way they always do—with laughter, tugging on each other’s clothes, talking about anything but. sometimes yoongi wonders if it’s meant to be like this, as though they’re sliding under the covers to sleep, like they’ve come home to each other after long days of work and are just happy to see each other. jeongguk’s telling him a story about the vampire who lives down the hall, how he’s threatening to call the authorities because he’s convinced a were-cat just moved into the building even though the landlord claimed that would never be a problem, and yoongi can’t stop giggling as he tries to get jeongguk’s jeans off. it’s a stupid idea to bar were-creatures from certain residences, anyway, but maybe that’s why yoongi has never tried to live in a city.

he gets jeongguk’s pants off, stumbling over books on the floor as they hit jeongguk’s massive bed; if yoongi is being honest, he likes it better than his own, and only part of it has to do with the fact that jeongguk’s bed is bigger and comfier and warmer. mostly has to do with the fact that jeongguk is in jeongguk’s bed, but he’s stopped dwelling on it. instead, he sheds his own shirt, letting it fall off the side of the bed before turning back to jeongguk.

“i tried giving him garlic again,” he’s saying, pulling off his socks as he scoots further up the bed. “either he didn’t eat it or vampires aren’t actually allergic.”

“that’s not very nice,” says yoongi, and jeongguk grins, dark and dangerous.

“you should know by now that i’m not a very nice monster, min yoongi,” says jeongguk, and as though to prove his point, yoongi has to duck out of the way of one of jeongguk’s wings smacking him in the face as jeongguk tries to pull off his shirt, too. they have a mind of their own sometimes—most times, yoongi has learned. made of cream white feathers, the wings protrude from jeongguk’s shoulder blades and span up to ten feet when they’re unfurled. thankfully, jeongguk keeps them pressed close to his back most of the time to ensure they don’t get in anyone’s way, although he has a wicked mean streak so sometimes he just trips people with them for the fun of it.

yoongi has gotten used to getting feathers to the face or in the mouth. when they fuck, jeongguk loses control of his wings entirely, and almost getting poked in the eye as yoongi helps jeongguk out of his shirt is a mere prelude to what might come next. and anyway—jeongguk pulls his wings back in, folding them against his back as his shirt is added to the piles of laundry on the floor and jeongguk makes a grab for yoongi instead.

“so anyway,” he sighs, pushing yoongi onto his back on the bed and crawling into his lap, “i’m hoping that there is a were-cat in the building and they get into a huge fight and i get to watch it.” he leans down and presses a kiss to the hollow of yoongi’s throat, starting a line down down down to his chest even as jeongguk keeps talking between the kisses. “oh, and someone left a note on my door asking me to stop shedding, and i’m like—” he pauses to nip at yoongi’s nipple, making him jump—“i don’t fucking shed, right? like, how rude. if there are feathers in their apartment, their kid probably dragged in a bird and ate it.” he licks at yoongi’s nipple for a second before popping his head up, watching yoongi. “i mean, right? that’s stupid.”

yoongi is so in love with him.

it’s probably a weird thought to have, as jeongguk is both engaging in foreplay and telling him totally mundane drama about his life, but it’s true. yoongi is in love with him. yoongi has known this for a long time—since only months after they started this arrangement of theirs, whatever they want to call it. they sleep together when they want to, when they’re lonely, when they’re drunk. yoongi wasn’t supposed to catch feelings, but he did, and now jeongguk is in his lap, hands absently working at yoongi’s pants as he waits for an answer, and that’s the truth.

anyway—yoongi says, “yeah. it’s stupid,” and jeongguk continues, putting his mouth back on yoongi and murmuring about vampires and were-cats and children as he works his hands into yoongi’s pants to grab his cock. and yoongi sucks in a breath, trying to keep his eyes open to look—to see jeongguk there, naked and glowing, wings perched on his back. from this angle, with jeongguk leaning over him, he can see where the wings sprout out of his back, a strange continuation of skin and bone that mold into feathers. yoongi likes to touch them, likes to run his fingers over the hard ridges of the wings, likes to smooth his hands over the feathers.

yoongi is the only person jeongguk lets touch the wings. yoongi is the only person the wings let touch themselves, and yoongi knows what happens when jeongguk gets angry. there is only ever a softness in him right here, when they’re naked in jeongguk’s bed, or maybe in yoongi’s. it was jeongguk who called him, who asked if he wanted to come over—and it’s two in the morning, because yoongi exists only at night. sometimes he wonders if jeongguk has fucked up his sleep schedule just to be with yoongi, and does someone he’s only sleeping with do that? would it make a difference if the answer was no?

he’s so distracted by the wings, watching as they ruffled here and there, occasionally stretching out a foot or two before snapping back into place, that he doesn’t realize what jeongguk is doing until yoongi’s cock is in his mouth. then he’s gasping, throwing his head back as he squeezes his eyes shut; but jeongguk knows what he likes. they’ve been doing this for nigh on a year now, and he remembers how it used to be—fumbling in the dark, awkward conversations after the come down, trying to test these limits. now they can do it with their eyes closed. now jeongguk knows exactly where to touch him, how to make yoongi sing. even if jeongguk didn’t know what to do, it wouldn’t take much for yoongi to make him do the right thing. but yoongi doesn’t like doing that.

there is a softness to him around jeongguk, too.

yoongi curls his fingers in jeongguk’s hair, groaning as jeongguk bobs his head, wet and hot. for some reason, yoongi remembers all of the other people that he’s fucked—demons and hybrids and witches. thinks of how he and jeongguk have never really said they’re exclusive, and how he tried fooling around with other people in the beginning only to realize that he was never going to be satisfied until it was like this—with jeongguk humming around his cock like he’s just making breakfast or doing homework.

yoongi didn’t even have to convince him of anything, and somehow, that’s surprising.

eventually, jeongguk pulls off, wiping at his mouth before he says, “do you think i should dye my hair?” like they’re not in the middle of having sex—but that’s just jeongguk. that’s just them, just casual, just jeongguk crawling back into his lap and shaking his head a little. “i was thinking… pink.”

yoongi has whiplash, trying to focus after he’s just had jeongguk’s mouth on him. “um,” he settles on, distracted by the sight of jeongguk reaching for the lube thrown somewhere on the bed, slathering his fingers with it, pressing a finger into himself—“sure?”

“i think—shit,” jeongguk groans, and yoongi reaches out for his waist to steady him. “it might look weird if i have pink hair and white wings?”

“you have brown hair and white wings now,” says yoongi. “i don’t see how having pink hair would make much of a difference.”

“maybe i should dye my wings, too.” as if they hear that, jeongguk’s wings practically ripple, expanding a little, or—maybe that’s just jeongguk pumping his fingers into himself, opening himself up and stretching himself for yoongi. when he loses himself in the pleasure, he can’t hold onto it, can’t control this other part of him. sometimes yoongi wonders what it would feel like to have wings, or a tail, or extra limbs. sometimes, he’s jealous of other creatures, not because he doesn’t have his own merits, but because they seem much less exciting when no one can see them.

jeongguk lets out another moan once he adds a third finger, mouth falling open. and yoongi watches him, can watch him because jeongguk’s eyes are closed. he’s pretty like this—skin flushed, wings expanding and expanding as he draws out of his own pleasure. but jeongguk is always pretty. yoongi tells him sometimes, even though jeongguk is a brat about it and accepts the compliment with some vain response. sometimes yoongi wants to sit him down, wants to look him in the eye, wants to lay it all out—the truth. sometimes it’s times like these that make him ache with that want, that need to tell jeongguk: when jeongguk is open and wanting, when jeongguk is a thing of art.

his wings keep expanding, stretching out on either side of him as jeongguk moves his fingers faster, faster, like he’s searching for something, and yoongi is mesmerized, horrified at how full his own heart is, and then—“fuck, okay,” breathes jeongguk, pulling his fingers out at the last second as his wings collapse back in. he crawls up up up yoongi’s body, dumping far too much lube on yoongi’s cock before he positions himself and sinks down without much pomp or flare, just… want. just that.

yoongi groans, head falling back as the tight heat of jeongguk’s body surrounds him, sinking lower and lower. he can feel his head getting fuzzy already, which is never a good sign; like this, jeongguk loses control of his wings. like this, yoongi loses control of his mouth, what he might say, what he might convince jeongguk to do. he’s always been resolute about never using his supernatural abilities on jeongguk, but sometimes he can’t help it. sometimes jeongguk asks for it, because he likes to test yoongi, likes to see what yoongi will do to him—and then teases when yoongi refuses, or when he bats his eyelashes and merely asks jeongguk to pass him the salt rather than do something drastic, like throw himself off of the building and not use his wings until he almost hits the ground.

that’s what jeongguk would do with this ability, yoongi knows. but that’s probably why jeongguk doesn’t have the ability.

when yoongi opens his eyes, he’s reminded of yet another reason he loves jeongguk’s bed more than his own—jeongguk’s ceiling is made entirely up of mirrors. when yoongi looks, he sees the books and clothes scattered around jeongguk’s room, and his desk in the corner, and his bookshelf under the window that lets in only moonlight along with the lit lamps on either side of the bed. he sees himself, sprawled out on jeongguk’s expensive sheets, hair a platinum blonde, body cast orange in the lamplight. but he sees jeongguk too, knees on either side of yoongi’s hips, head thrown back in pleasure as he adjusts to the stretch of yoongi’s cock inside of him.

he sees jeongguk’s wings—sees how they unfurl again, stretching out slowly on either side of him, stark white in the dark colours of the room. it’s like yoongi’s own private show, this view of them. again, he thinks this is art. other creatures in this world might be prettier—the nymphs or the ragdolls built to have perfect faces. but yoongi thinks this is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

he keeps his eye trained on the ceiling, on the mirror, as jeongguk sucks in a breath and then begins moving, slowly lifting himself up and then dropping himself back down to fuck himself on yoongi’s cock. it’s slow at first, jeongguk groaning as he drives home his own pleasure. yoongi watches the way jeongguk’s wings respond to it, sees it all from below and above at the same time. he keeps his eyes on jeongguk, doesn’t care about himself, as he moans along with jeongguk, the drag of jeongguk’s walls on his cock sending sparks up his spine.

jeongguk works up a quick rhythm in no time, bouncing in yoongi’s lap as he tries to keep himself upright. in the mirror, yoongi sees jeongguk begin to waver, the wings doing a tiny flap before yoongi lifts up his hands in time to grasp at jeongguk’s, threading their fingers together. finally, he allows himself to look at the sight before him—and maybe that’s all the mirror watching was for: to prepare him. but it’s still not enough, not when he sees jeongguk bouncing on his cock, skin flushed and his own cock hard and leaking against his stomach. when he sees jeongguk’s hair hanging in his eyes, and his wings lifting up up up, tips brushing against the ceiling.

yoongi flips them at the last second, before jeongguk’s wings can flap downward and smack the both of them. it’s with a huff from yoongi and a surprised yelp from jeongguk that they roll, and they’re suddenly doused in darkness. or—jeongguk’s wings cocoon them automatically, folding around the both of them as jeongguk lands on his back. for a moment, yoongi can’t see anything, can only hear jeongguk’s breathing, feel himself still buried deep inside of jeongguk.

and then the lights appear.

yoongi doesn’t mean to do it—but it’s what he does, what he’s been designed for. he guides. most often, his abilities are used to lure, to harm. yoongi’s entire family is just like him, and none of them are good people. but something about it never sat right with yoongi, even if the darkness calls upon his very nature—and there, in front of his eyes, appear tiny orbs of light, born out of nothing. they glow yellow and orange, floating wisps of light that illuminate the both of them.

he sees jeongguk’s wide eyes, lips pursed as he looks up at the little lights dancing around them, and then to yoongi. he sees jeongguk’s wings around them, protecting them, keeping them safe. he sees the lights, meant to guide them home, or maybe away.

jeongguk grins. “hyung,” he whispers.

“guk-ah,” says yoongi. he watches as jeongguk untangles one hand from yoongi’s and reaches out for the light hovering between their faces instead, his fingers passing through it as he tries to hold it.

“stay like this,” says jeongguk, although yoongi isn’t sure if he’s telling him or the wings. either way, the wings don’t move, even when they’re out of danger—they remain cocooned, the lights hovering between them, and jeongguk reaches out for yoongi’s face instead. it’s like this that the ache in yoongi’s chest worsens and worsens—when jeongguk looks at him like this, soft and careful. he’s so different from the boy who tries to poison his neighbours for the fun of it. jeongguk always lets him in, always loves him, even if it’s not in those words—he holds yoongi’s face. he pulls yoongi down to him, until their noses are brushing together, and he sees jeongguk grin the moment before he tilts his face up and kisses yoongi.

so yoongi fucks him like that—slow and gentle in this little world jeongguk’s wings have made for them. and jeongguk kisses him, giggling when yoongi nips at his lip, scratching his nails through yoongi’s hair. and yoongi thinks he likes it like this better, anyway—the gentleness of it as he fucks jeongguk deep and slow, no need to rush. no need for more. there is always another night, always another call. even if jeongguk tried to walk away, yoongi could make him stay.

and that’s what scares him most of all about his own feelings for jeongguk—because yoongi isn’t all pretty lights. yoongi is a will-o-wisp. he is the light that guides, the gentle call in the darkness. if he tries hard enough, he can convince anyone to do just about anything; his sister uses it to scam powerful men out of their money. his father uses it for revenge. yoongi doesn’t use it, terrified of what he could do—he could lure men to their deaths if he wanted, but he doesn’t want. when jeongguk pleads, yoongi will run his fingers over jeongguk’s jaw, press kisses to his cheek, ask as sweetly as possible if jeongguk will please change the television channel—and jeongguk always looks mildly disappointed that it’s never more.

it could be. yoongi could convince jeongguk to do anything, although sometimes yoongi isn’t sure if that’s his wisp nature or the fact that jeongguk would do anything for him without having to be asked. he didn’t have to convince jeongguk to sleep with him. he would never use his abilities that way, anyway.

but—but. yoongi won’t say anything about his feelings, because he’s terrified that if jeongguk says he loves yoongi back, it won’t be real. he’s afraid that it’ll be the wisp in him convincing jeongguk to do so, taking away his free will. he’s afraid that subconsciously, he’s been convincing jeongguk of it all along.

and maybe that’s the curse of being a will-o-wisp—the fact that yoongi could have everything he wanted, with a bat of his eyelashes. but then it wouldn’t mean anything, because love without free will isn’t love at all.

so he has jeongguk like this instead—quick and dirty sometimes, with jeongguk moaning into his ear as yoongi kisses at his neck, at his collarbones. he has jeongguk in the darkness, under covers. he has jeongguk with nothing more than a vague promise of next time—because it’s better to have him like this than not at all.

when jeongguk’s moans become more erratic, legs tightening around him, yoongi wraps a hand around his cock and strokes—faster and faster, in time with the thrusts of his own cock that he begins to speed up. he drags his mouth back to jeongguk’s, kisses him hot and heavy to keep his mouth preoccupied. sometimes he says things. sometimes those things are convincing arguments he doesn’t want to have, but he can’t help it, the wisp in him wanting out.

jeongguk chants his name, voice pitching higher and higher as he begins tipping over the edge, and yoongi gives one last expert twist of his wrist before jeongguk comes with a shout, his wings suddenly bursting their cocoon wide open; the wings flap outward, expanding in jeongguk’s moment of ecstasy, and yoongi keeps his eyes closed as they collide with anything in their way. he hears a crash as one wing clips the lamp on jeongguk’s side table and sends it sailing into the floor, the other wind whacking against jeongguk’s desk.

yoongi pulls himself out of jeongguk, leaning up just slightly as he takes himself into his hand and strokes, lights bursting in and outside of his head as he feels lightning building in his spine. he hears jeongguk’s heavy breathing, hears him say, “hyung,” and yoongi opens his eyes in time to see jeongguk looking at him—wanting, fucked out, hazy. but so, so full of love.

he comes like that, leaning over jeongguk’s stomach and chest. he clamps down on his bottom lip to keep himself from letting out a string of lovely words, ones full of light and flowers, ones about how much he loves jeongguk. the fear chokes it all out, makes weeds grow where beauty once stepped. yoongi closes his eyes again, like not seeing jeongguk will help him keep the flood at bay, and when he collapses with exhaustion, rolling beside jeongguk, he almost cries as jeongguk’s wings wrap around him again, hold him close.

yoongi can convince anyone of anything. he can almost convince himself that this is enough.

after, they go for sushi. it’s three in the morning and only the nocturnal creatures like yoongi are out—jeongguk doesn’t quite fit in, but he holds yoongi’s hand anyway as he hums over the menu like he doesn’t get the same thing every time. it’s not always sushi, though; sometimes after they fuck, they’ll go for barbecue, or for ice cream, or hotteok. sometimes they won’t go anywhere at all, staying wrapped up in bedsheets as they talk. yoongi can’t decide which he likes better. when they stay home, it’s something careful, something special. but out here, when they sit across from each other and jeongguk plays with his foot under the table, he can almost pretend they’re something more.

“ah, hyung,” says jeongguk once he’s only halfway through his sushi, and yoongi takes a moment to admire him; he’s dressed head to toe in black, stark against the cream white of his wings that perch on his back. when they’re in public, he does his best not to let them stretch out at all, although they nearly brush against the ground with how long they are. “i forgot i wanted mochi for dessert.”

yoongi blinks at him. “you can go up and order some,” he says.

“but hyung,” says jeongguk, and there’s that mean streak again, something flashing in his eyes. “can’t you just get some for me?”

yoongi bites at his lip. the truth is, he only uses his wisp abilities when jeongguk wants him to, because jeongguk thinks it’s funny. because if jeongguk had that sort of power, he’d use it left, right, and center to get whatever he wants, and yoongi knows he’s weak when he doesn’t even hesitate before pushing back his chair and returning to the elderly woman manning the counter. it’s a terrible thing, really, to trick an old woman—even if she is a pixie, her own silky wings flitting behind her back.

he glances back at jeongguk, who is happily munching on yoongi’s sushi now.

yoongi sighs, approaching the woman. “hello,” he says after bowing, and then lets himself slip; the problem isn’t that he has to try to convince people of things, but that he has to try not to. it’s the nature of a wisp to lure and guide, so he’s constantly trying to pull back some of the seduction of his voice. now he lets it out, grinning as he leans against the counter. “we’re enjoying your sushi very much. the only problem is that my friend there wants mochi so badly, and he just doesn’t have the money for it and he’ll be extremely sad if he doesn’t get it…” when he looks back at jeongguk again, jeongguk is busy taking duck-faced selfies with yoongi’s phone, and yoongi almost gives up.

luckily, it’s not jeongguk who has to be convincing.

“of course, dear,” says the pixie, patting yoongi’s arm. “we would never want a customer to starve, and he looks like such a nice boy. go back to your table and we’ll bring out mochi for the both of you on the house.”

it settles heavily in yoongi’s stomach as he returns to the table—just not easy it was. he didn’t even need to suggest that she give the food to them for free, although some minds are more susceptible to convincing than others. with jeongguk, yoongi has to practically shove him into doing what he wants, while others don’t even need the suggestion voiced out loud to understand. which is exactly why he hasn’t mentioned his feelings—he doesn’t want to accidentally convince jeongguk of anything. it’s easier to deal with this than that.

“hyung, you’re the best,” beams jeongguk when yoongi sits down, leaning over the table and grabbing yoongi’s face to give him a kiss on the lips. “i wish i could do that.”

“i’m pretty sure you can convince people to do things without supernatural abilities,” says yoongi, picking up his chopsticks to poke at the sushi jeongguk graciously left him. “bat your eyelashes and people will fall over themselves to make you happy.”

“or i could threaten them,” says jeongguk, eyes brightening. “i could easily destroy this whole place with these wings.”

“please don’t.”

“i didn’t say i would.” yoongi raises an incredulous eyebrow at him. it wouldn’t be the first time, would it—three months ago, jeongguk got so upset with a seer who wouldn’t give jeongguk his fortune for free that he smashed everything in her tent and then pouted when yoongi tried to reprimand him for it. but just as it’s in yoongi’s nature to lure, it’s in jeongguk’s nature to harm. thankfully, most days it’s silly pranks, but yoongi has seen what jeongguk can do. most days, it terrifies him.

but most days—he’s aware that jeongguk has never once tried to hurt yoongi. it’s yoongi who can calm him down, who can step between him and the whirlwind of his anger, because jeongguk won’t hurt yoongi.

that’s also why yoongi can tease.

“alright,” he says with a little shrug, hooking his ankle around jeongguk’s. “i know you’re a good little fairy.”

immediately, the amusement on jeongguk’s face drains away, lips falling into a frown. “i’m not a fairy,” he protests.

“are you sure?” asks yoongi. “you could be a fairy and we just don’t know. i think you should be open to all possibilities.”

hyung,” scowls jeongguk, visibly upset with it, and yoongi can only smirk, leaning back in his chair as he watches the show. the truth is, they don’t know. jeongguk was found in the woods as a baby, wrapped in a woolen blanket with a note about being unable to care for him. he was found by a pair of humans who, rather than toss a baby with wings into the river, decided to take him in and raise him. he’s fine, of course, but it means that no one really knows what species he is; there are plenty of creatures with wings—fairies, for example. and both of them know fairies doesn’t have wings with feathers, but yoongi can’t help teasing, knowing jeongguk’s absolute hatred for fairies for no apparent reason.

“i’m just saying,” shrugs yoongi. “don’t fairies come glitter? i’m pretty sure i saw a few sparkles come out of you earlier—”

finally, jeongguk snaps, just like yoongi wants. he slams his hand down on the table, wings shooting out on either side of him as he growls, “i’m not a fairy!” and here, of course, is all the evidence that yoongi needs to prove jeongguk is far from the gentle-natured, giggling creatures that yoongi teases him to be: jeongguk’s wings have rippled into a molten black, feathers ruffled and wings curved at the end as though to be used as weapons. what’s more: jeongguk’s eyes are red.

yoongi grins, picking up a piece of sushi and eating it calmly as he looks at the piece of art before him—sometimes he likes jeongguk best like this, even if he’s angry. oh, jeongguk isn’t a fairy. when he’s upset, he turns into something much, much worse, and it’s like this that he could easily destroy this building and everything in it.

but yoongi is still there. and he knows that jeongguk would never hurt him.

“um,” a new voice joins them—yoongi looks over to see one of the sushi chefs standing beside the table, holding a tray of plates in his hands. “your order?”

“oh, thank you,” says yoongi, patting the table. “thank you very much.” when the man sets down the mochi and then scurries away, yoongi turns to see jeongguk still glowering at him, wings protruding and black as the outfit he wears.

“ah, seriously, guk-ah,” laughs yoongi, pushing the first plate of mochi toward him. “you know i wasn’t being serious. and i know you wouldn’t hurt me anyway, would you?”

jeongguk blinks, face relaxing when he seems to realize what he’s doing, and then his eyes fade back to brown. slowly, his wings retreat back against his back, although they maintain their dark colour, and yoongi grins to himself as he grabs one of the mochi balls from their plate. “you’d think you would get by now that i don’t actually think you’re a fairy.”

“i can’t help it,” mumbles jeongguk, face a little flushed now that he must realize what he’s done. yoongi knows it overtakes him sometimes, revealing his true nature when he’s upset; yoongi has long theorized that jeongguk is actually closer to a harpy than anything else, but there’s no way to know for sure. “you shouldn’t do that, though. i might accidentally hurt you one time.”

“you wouldn’t hurt me,” says yoongi with a shrug. “then you wouldn’t have anyone to fuck.”

jeongguk’s eyes cut to him, and yoongi—pauses. there’s something deeper in them, something more that he hasn’t seen before. it’s a strange mix of hurt and expectation, looks like jeongguk wants to say something but won’t for fear of rejection. yoongi’s chopsticks stop halfway to his mouth, and jeongguk looks at him, and yoongi thinks.

oh no.

it’s not just about that—and somehow, he just knows, looking at how jeongguk looks at him. it’s not about that for jeongguk, not anymore. and yoongi sucks in a breath, looking away and down to the rest of the food on his plate, like he can ignore it, like he can push it away. he’s lived the past year of sleeping with jeongguk knowing that nothing could ever happen between them. he’s fallen in love convincing himself that he can deal with only ever falling into bed with jeongguk and then doing these silly things with him, and having none of it mean anything.

but what if he’s wrong? what if he’s not the only one? what if he’s been so afraid of accidentally convincing jeongguk to fall in love with him that he hasn’t considered that fact that jeongguk might just… do it on his own?

“just eat your mochi,” says yoongi after a second. “and i know you ate my sushi.”

“you can’t prove it,” says jeongguk.

“well, i didn’t eat it,” says yoongi, looking back up to him to see that the second of hurt has gone from jeongguk’s eyes—but there’s still the warmth, still the same want underneath it. why hasn’t yoongi seen it before? “maybe you just forgot. you know, you’re getting old for a wisp, hyung, maybe it’s a sign that you’re going to die soon.”

yoongi gasps, offended, but it’s just to make jeongguk laugh, throwing his head back as the sound echoes through the restaurant, and yoongi tries to steal jeongguk’s share, too, and they get into a chopstick battle and it ends with them giggling as they stumble into the night together, arm in arm, one of jeongguk’s wings wrapping around yoongi’s shoulder to keep him close. and maybe it’s true—maybe there’s something more. but yoongi can’t help being cautious, wanting to be careful. he waits.

he can wait.


on the weekend, they go dancing. it’s jeongguk’s idea, as most things that they do are—and now yoongi wonders why he’s never noticed that jeongguk is always dragging yoongi out to do things with him, things that might be mistaken for dates if he looks at it the wrong way. they’ve been friends for years, long before they ever fell into bed together, but they never went dancing when they were just friends, never went out to eat so much, never held hands as they ran through the streets to become one with other monsters.

for the first time, yoongi lets himself see it. stops clinging so tightly to his own feelings, testing the waters as jeongguk pulls him into the club. the lights are low, hearts pounding as they sneak through the crowd of creatures—vampires and were-creatures and fairies, beings that look like each other but can do strange things like yoongi, creatures who can be picked out a crowd like jeongguk. sometimes it’s hard to tell if someone is a creature at all, or if they’re a human. yoongi doesn’t mind, not when jeongguk’s hand is so tight on his.

he’s dyed his wings black, at least for the night; it’ll drip off of them by the end of the night, staining yoongi’s sheets with the colour of his love, and yoongi doesn’t mind—not when jeongguk looks like that, not when there’s something bright and hazy in his eyes as he turns to look at yoongi over his shoulder. they’re halfway to drunk and yoongi is so, so in love.

on the dance floor, jeongguk pulls him close, and they laugh over the pulsing beat of the music. they twist and twirl, yoongi’s hands on jeongguk’s waist, pulling him closer. “hey,” says yoongi suddenly, watching him. “are you wearing eyeliner?”

jeongguk grins at him, cheeks flushed. “do you like it?” he asks—and maybe that’s it. maybe jeongguk has always done things for himself, but he always wants yoongi approve of it anyway.

and yoongi grins back, shuffling even closer until they’re pressed chest to chest. he tilts his head back to look at jeongguk better, feeling hazy and gone, but good—good here with jeongguk, like he always is. “i always like you,” he says, which isn’t an answer to the question, but is the truth anyway. and he sees the way jeongguk opens up to it. it’s been a long time since jeongguk was just someone for yoongi to sleep with; he’s lost count of the days, but maybe there are only so many days left.

the music is loud and wild, but suddenly, jeongguk and yoongi are moving slow slow slow. they sway back and forth, yoongi wrapping his arms around jeongguk’s back, and there’s a look of vague mischief in jeongguk’s eyes before everything goes dark again, like days ago. jeongguk’s wings wrap around them, but this time, it isn’t in protection—it’s to have some moment of privacy even in the middle of a club, and yoongi can hear jeongguk giggling before he closes his eyes and breathes, making lights appear in their cocoon again.

like this, it’s just them. like this, it’s only ever them, and the way jeongguk looks at him through the orange haze of the lights—yoongi knows. he knows, somehow, that he was right for thinking that maybe jeongguk does like him back, those days ago. but there’s something more in it, the way yoongi feels himself slipping just a little further, too.

he leans up on his toes, nudging his nose against jeongguk’s. “have you ever wondered,” he begins quietly, “if you might actually be an angel?”

jeongguk grins at him, bumping his nose. “angels aren’t real, hyung.”

“they could be.”

jeongguk hums. “okay, hyung,” he says. “only if i can be your angel.”

stupid, he thinks—stupid that he didn’t get it, that he’s never understood. but yoongi basks in that, in the way the lights around their heads shimmer and shine, growing stronger the less yoongi is able to keep a grip on his emotions. jeongguk dips his head, kisses him soft soft soft, and the party rages on around them, but they have their own little world, and that’s enough. maybe wisps don’t live long and they have no idea who jeongguk is, but yoongi can’t go denying what he feels.

yoongi holds it in the center of his chest, lets the anticipation of what might come next send tingles up and down his spine. he should say something—and he will. but for now, he wants to keep this in between, this uncertainty. he revels in the newness of understanding, of trying to catch all of the places where jeongguk lets his true feelings shine through now that yoongi knows to look for it. he sees it when jeongguk invites him over and yoongi ends up grooming his wings before they even get into bed together, and how they stay up talking for hours afterwards; it’s not about the sex anymore. maybe it hasn’t been for a long time.

he sees it when they go out for dinner or to dance or to wander the streets with other monsters, and they hold hands, and jeongguk grins at him with all of the stars in his eyes. he sees it when jeongguk leaves behind his fast urban life to spend the weekend in the woods with yoongi, where his cottage is, where he always prefers to be—just a little away from everyone and everything else, except jeongguk. he sees it in the way jeongguk softens around him where he won’t soften for anyone else, how he holds yoongi, how he speaks to him.

he sees how jeongguk sees him when they go walking out in the woods and jeongguk demands they stop to talk pictures in the midst of a magical flower garden, something that a witch must have left behind. yoongi rolls his eyes, but he takes his phone out anyway, admiring jeongguk’s silhouette against the sunlight, admiring the flowers he picks for yoongi and then hands to him like a child on valentine’s day. he sees it when jeongguk insists on pushing yoongi into the flower patch and capturing him, too, and how yoongi stares at the photos after and can’t understand how jeongguk managed to make him look… perfect. and maybe that has more to do with jeongguk than yoongi, maybe jeongguk is always looking at him a little differently. maybe yoongi has just never noticed it before, his own fault.

it’s all right there—and it has been for some time. yoongi allows himself time to realize it, to accept it. he’s been afraid for so long that he’s not sure what to do with the knowledge that there could be something more, and it wouldn’t be his wisp abilities making it so. but he doesn’t need to rush; there is time. there will always be time with jeongguk. they came together like this, a little clumsy sometimes, but softly, but gently; they will have time for more.

yoongi lets himself see jeongguk’s love. he lets himself love jeongguk’s love, just as he loves jeongguk. and when the time is right—he’ll open his heart and admit the truth.


“hyung,” says jeongguk, out of breath. “you need to get a bigger bed.”

yoongi peers over the edge of his bed at jeongguk where he’s fallen onto the floor, wings awkwardly splayed out in the tiny room. the truth is that yoongi needs a bigger house in general, at least if jeongguk is going to be here for any amount of time—but he likes his little cottage in the woods and doesn’t need much more. besides, yoongi doesn’t take up much space.

“you need to stop moving so much,” yoongi counters, but there’s a lazy grin on his lips as he looks at jeongguk. this is why he likes going to jeongguk’s when they fuck—jeongguk always manages to fall off yoongi’s bed, or take out the light shade with his wings, or otherwise set the cottage on fire somehow.

jeongguk pouts at him.

yoongi slinks off the bed after him, trying to do so gracefully although it doesn’t work so well; he lands in a lump at jeongguk’s side, banging his hip against the wood floor, and makes a groaning noise even as he shuffles closer until he can wrap his limps around jeongguk. if jeongguk is going to be on the floor, yoongi is going to be on the floor, too—and maybe that’s a good way to describe their entire relationship. they should probably clean up, at least before their come begins to dry on their skin, but yoongi is suddenly more interested in being on the floor with jeon jeongguk, one of jeongguk’s wings curling around him protectively. mind of their own.

“why do you like living out here so much?” jeongguk asks, fingers tracing patterns over yoongi’s bare shoulder. “it’s so… quiet. scares me.”

“i like quiet,” yoongi says. “wisps are lonely creatures, you know. we’re not meant to be around other people that much, and it’s honestly not uncommon to see wisps never living with someone. often, they choose to be alone.” yoongi gets it; he chose not to have many friends when he was a kid, and was unsocial as a teenager. he chose to live out in the woods to be away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and would have been happy to live out his days right here, all alone—until he met jeongguk.

“is that your way of asking me to leave?” asks jeongguk, teasing edge to his tone. still, yoongi tightens his grip on jeongguk, looking up at him with a shake of his head.

“never,” says yoongi. “you are always the exception to all of my rules.” that’s true, too—not only yoongi’s wisp tendencies to want to be alone, but also his desire to stay out of trouble, and his inclination to mingle with his own kind. yoongi’s parents were the stuck up type, not wanting their children to fraternize with other monsters. maybe that’s why yoongi doesn’t really talk to them anymore.

and jeongguk grins at him, soft and sweet. yoongi leans up to kiss him, feels an overwhelming need to as he so often does with jeongguk. maybe that’s part of it, too—he just wants to kiss jeongguk because he wants to, because he can. they could live here in this cottage, and yoongi could get a bigger bed. they could wander the woods hand in hand, stop at lakes to visit the merpeople and fairies that live deep in the trees. they could have everything right here.

yoongi lays his head back on jeongguk’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. jeongguk curls his fingers in yoongi’s hair, and for a moment—it feels like they’re already there.

“is it okay, hyung?” jeongguk asks quietly. “if i stay?”

“of course, guk-ah,” says yoongi. he wants to say—stay for longer, stay forever. it unnerves him, the way he has to hold that knowledge in his hands. but maybe the time isn’t right, not yet. it will be.

jeongguk does stay. they make dinner as the sun sinks below the horizon, casting the cottage in oranges and yellows. when it gets too dark to see, yoongi exhales lights around the room, little stars of light that jeongguk marvels at no matter how many times yoongi has done the trick. it’s this that yoongi loves so much about him—jeongguk makes him feel like something special, like something precious. no matter how many times they see each other, yoongi always feels like it’s the first time, and yet as though he and jeongguk have been together for years. something about it has always felt right.

much later, when jeongguk shyly asks him again if it’s okay, if he can stay, they wrap themselves up in yoongi’s tiny bed, half on top of each other. jeongguk’s wings shelter them just enough, yoongi’s arms wrapped around jeongguk to hold him. it’s the middle of summer, but maybe it’s a good time to start over. to start anew.

he dips down, pressing a kiss to the top of jeongguk’s head. jeongguk giggles, a breathy sound that fills the room and yoongi’s heart, too.

“i think i could get used to this,” says jeongguk. “being out here all the time, i mean. it’s nice not to hear my neighbours arguing through the walls all the time.”

“no neighbours is definitely a plus,” agrees yoongi, trying not to latch onto the idea of jeongguk being here, staying here forever. the idea that maybe jeongguk is thinking about it, too, and what that means. “i feel like you’d miss all of your city things, though. you can’t just run out and buy something out here.”

“i could fly there,” says jeongguk. “it would take much less time than going on foot.”

“you can’t fly, though,” says yoongi. “or have you been lying to me this whole time?”

jeongguk’s feathers ruffle a little, as though the wings are offended by the very idea. “i could learn,” says jeongguk. that’s another thing about him—monsters with wings can usually fly, and with the utter size of jeongguk’s, yoongi has always assumed that he was meant to. but growing up with humans meant that jeongguk was never taught to fly, and any attempt as a child to jump off of the roof and spread his wings was meant with immediate concern and scolding from his parents. they’re good people—or so jeongguk says—but there is so much that jeongguk simply doesn’t understand about himself.

yoongi sighs a little, running his fingers up and down jeongguk’s bare back, mouth pressed to the top of his head. “you should,” he says. “you can stay out here and we’ll have flying lessons every day. i can ask some of the fairies to help.”

“i’m not—”

“i’m not saying you’re a fairy, baby,” grins yoongi, squeezing jeongguk. “but they know how to fly. so they can help you. we can climb trees and jump from them and see what happens.”

“you don’t have wings, hyung,” says jeongguk. “you would get hurt.”

“you wouldn’t let me get hurt, guk-ah.”

jeongguk tangles their legs together a little more, shuffling closer. yoongi pretends it’s because the bed is too small, even though like this they barely take up two thirds of it. “i wouldn’t,” jeongguk finally admits. “do you… think i’m less of a monster because i don’t know what i really am?”

it’s not the first time jeongguk has been vulnerable with him, has been afraid of some truth. jeongguk is a mischievous little shit at the best of times because it’s in his nature, but he opens up for yoongi just like this—lets yoongi in, shows him his heart. it took months to get to this point, even when they were friends, but yoongi cherishes it more than he can put into words. he knows he has to be careful with jeongguk’s heart, to handle it with love and gentleness. it’s an honour.

“of course not,” says yoongi, kissing his head again. “there are plenty of people out there who don’t know who they really are—and not even just because they don’t know what species they are. everyone is lost in some way, jeongguk. as long as you know who you are, it doesn’t matter what you are.”

“are you just saying that so i won’t cry and ruin this?”

yoongi giggles. “i really mean it,” he says. “although if you want to cry, that’s okay. you’re allowed to.”

he hears jeongguk suck in a breath, and then let it out slowly. sometimes he gets like this—insecure, unsure. yoongi has never rushed him, only ever wants jeongguk to be safe and happy. and yoongi likes to think that he does make jeongguk feel safe and happy, so he’s going to stay right here.

“sometimes i’m just not sure what i’m doing with my life,” jeongguk admits. “i used to spend so much time wondering if i would find my real family some day and they would tell me who i was and all of it would make sense, and i would suddenly have this grand plan for my life. but that’s not happened. and i’m scared that i’m going to spend the rest of my life just wandering around, waiting for something to make sense.”

“oh, jeongguk,” whispers yoongi, tilting jeongguk’s head up so they can look at each other. jeongguk’s eyes are a little wet, that sad, sorry look on his face, and yoongi dips down to kiss his forehead, his eyelids, to wipe away all of that sadness. “i’m sorry you feel like that. but—you don’t need your biological family. you have me, right?”

“s’not the same,” breathes jeongguk. “we always said there was a time limit on this, right? so one day you might get bored of me or decide that you want to be with someone else, and then i’ll be alone again.”

and yoongi gets it—gets that he can’t keep putting this off, not when jeongguk is hurting. not when it’s clear that jeongguk loves him, maybe wants something more, or at least needs something more. yoongi kisses the apples of jeongguk’s cheeks, shuffling down the bed a little for better access. “that’s not true,” he finally whispers, opening his eyes to look at jeongguk. “i’m not going to get bored of you.”

“how do you know that?”

“how do you know i will?”

jeongguk frowns at him, and there’s something so endearing in it. yoongi can’t help but lean forward and kiss him, always wanting to taste more, to have more.

“i know you’re scared of never finding where you really belong,” says yoongi, “but jeongguk, you belong here with me. if you want, i mean—you’re always welcome with me. not just in my bed, but in my house, in my life. you’ve already taken over everything, you know.” if he looked around the room, he would see that; they’ve always only ever been friends with benefits, but jeongguk’s clothes are in all of his drawers. he has his own toothbrush here, and yoongi finds himself buying food that he knows jeongguk likes, because jeongguk will inevitably be here to eat it. he’s permeated everything in yoongi’s life, and yoongi likes it.

but jeongguk just pouts at him, eyes wide. his hands curl into yoongi’s shirt like he doesn’t want yoongi to take it back, doesn’t want him to go. so yoongi leans forward again, kisses the side of jeongguk’s mouth. “i’m trying to say that nothing is certain,” he says. “something could go wrong, you’re right. but that’s no reason not to give something your all, and to try. i don’t want you to look back and realize that you never tried because you were too scared of failing.” it’s rich for him to say, holding back his own feelings for so long—but now he finally understands. and the longer this goes on, the more he understands that jeongguk wants to be right here, and yoongi wants him to be right here.

“when did you get so wise, hyung?” jeongguk sighs, closing his eyes as yoongi presses soft kisses to his face—his cupid’s bow, his nose, his forehead.

“i’m good at convincing people of things,” says yoongi. “although i’m not trying to convince you of anything. i’m just trying to show you something.”

“i think i wanna stay here,” says jeongguk, pressing even closer, putting his face in yoongi’s neck.

yoongi swallows tightly, his hand smoothing down jeongguk’s hair. “forever?” he whispers.

jeongguk nods. “yeah,” he breathes. “forever.”

and there—something unspoken, something understood. neither of them has said the words, but yoongi thinks that they both understand. they’re standing on the precipice of something more, waiting for the right moment to dive in together.

yoongi thinks of when all of this started—when they slept together for the first time after dancing around each other for a month or two, after their friendship turned to some other sort of attraction. after, when they were lying in jeongguk’s bed and breathing hard, coming down from the high, yoongi was afraid that that would be it. that jeongguk would realize he had no use for yoongi anymore after getting what he wanted, even if they got along so well as friends. yoongi was ready for that, ready to mourn the loss of what could have been, if jeongguk didn’t want to go any further. because no matter what yoongi wants, he knows all too well how he can lure someone in, can make them do something they don’t want to.

with jeongguk, he was always careful. with jeongguk, he always took it slow, letting jeongguk lead because he didn’t want to make a mistake, didn’t want to realize after months and months that jeongguk never really wanted it all along. but it’s been a year now, maybe more. and jeongguk is still here, and jeongguk wants himit’s clear. yoongi can see the whole sky opening up.

so maybe he’ll take this slow, too, but he knows he can trust jeongguk. he knows he can trust himself. and maybe he should take his own advice—being afraid of how something will end doesn’t negate the whole of the experience. it doesn’t mean he shouldn’t try this, too.

when he shifts, he realizes that jeongguk has fallen asleep. and despite the resolute understanding in yoongi’s heart, he knows they have time. they will always have time. there will be more dancing, more late nights in sushi bars, more love. there will always be more love, and he presses a kiss to the side of jeongguk’s face, wishes him goodnight, and follows soon after.

sleep only lasts for a few hours—although yoongi doesn’t know what time it is when he wakes next. all he’s aware of is the loud crash that woke him, and he blinks his eyes open in the darkness before bolting upright, afraid of what might be waiting for him, only to see the figure in the corner of the room.

“sorry!” it says—jeongguk says. yoongi moves his hand through the air and lights appear before him, casting the room in a dim glow. it gives him enough light to see jeongguk in the corner of the room and yoongi’s bookshelf on the ground, overturned with books sprawled out on the floor. yoongi blinks at it, trying to wake himself enough to decide what to do with that.

“sorry, hyung,” says jeongguk, still awkwardly poised near the doorway. “sorry, i—i just have to pee really badly and you know how i can’t really control my wings when i’m half-asleep and i couldn’t see where i was going and they knocked over your bookshelf, hyung, i’m so sorry.” yoongi smacks his lips, the haze finally leaving his eyes enough to see jeongguk’s sleepy and guilty expression across the room.

it’s not the worst thing jeongguk has knocked over with his wings. and it’s true that he has shit control when he’s tired—or drunk—or distracted—or sexually aroused. in truth, jeongguk is kind of bad at having wings in general. and something about that makes him all the more endearing. still half-asleep himself, yoongi scratches at his forehead.

“‘kay,” he finally settles on, making a shooing motion with his hand. “go pee then. we can clean it up in the morning.”

jeongguk apologizes a few more times before doing as he’s told, a thump echoing through the room as jeongguk tries to go through the door and one of his wings gets caught. something about it makes yoongi laugh, a giggle that starts deep in his belly and echoes up up up and out of him, listening to the sounds of jeongguk banging his way around the cottage. he can trace it by sound alone, jeongguk’s wings whacking into walls and doors, a few hushed ow’s reaching yoongi’s ears before jeongguk finally gets to the bathroom.

yoongi sits in bed and giggles. and then, almost the same way he realized he loved jeongguk, he realizes this is what he wants for the rest of his life.

he’s kind of always known it—at least once he realized he loved jeongguk. he’s known that he wants to be with jeongguk somehow, for as long as jeongguk wants to be with him, even if it’s just when they’re sleeping together and going out dancing on the weekends. but he realizes that this is what he wants, and he doesn’t just want it for now, for the next month, for as long as jeongguk wants—yoongi wants it forever.

he wants to squeeze into the same bed as jeongguk, wants to be wrapped up in his wings like a safety net. he wants to have late-night conversations about what scares them, what excites them, what makes them want to try harder than anything to live. he wants to come home to jeongguk every day, wants to greet him with a kiss that says just how much he missed him and how leaving in the morning is always the hardest part of the day. he wants to make dinner with jeongguk and sit on the roof and laugh at the sky, wants to learn how to fly with him, wants to visit the mermaids and the fairies and the trolls deep in the forest.

yoongi wants to wake up in the middle of the night to jeongguk knocking over the bookshelf for the rest of his life. he wants that domestic stuff, wants the knowledge that jeongguk is going to come back to bed—come back to bed to yoongi, to snuggle under the covers again because it’s cold, hyung, stop hogging the blankets. he wants jeongguk here all the time. he wants to get a bigger bed. he wants to love jeongguk and he wants jeongguk to love him in return.

yoongi has known this. but suddenly, he realizes that it’s time to admit it—it’s time to put all of this desire into words. jeongguk is terrified of yoongi tossing him away like scraps, but that’s the farthest thing from what yoongi wants. and maybe it’s his sleep-addled mind or the sound of jeongguk humming in the bathroom down the hall. maybe it’s the realization that if he doesn’t say it now, there will never be a better time. if he wants to start the rest of his life, and if he’s certain that jeongguk wants the same thing, what’s the point in waiting?

he’s held it in his hands, let it sit to make sure it’s the truth. but yoongi has known it’s the truth for a long time, and he’s no longer afraid of getting it wrong. he’s no longer afraid of convincing jeongguk of something wrong.

so he sits and he waits for jeongguk to come back. it only takes a few minutes for the thumps to come back, jeongguk still not having gotten a hold on his wings this early in the morning—or late at night. but jeongguk comes back into the room, yoongi’s light to guide him. he almost trips on the books and overturned bookshelf even though he knocked it over not five minutes ago, and yoongi giggles as he holds out his hand like a lighthouse for jeongguk. jeongguk stumbles to him, grabbing his hand as yoongi pulls him back onto the bed.

“sorry, hyung,” jeongguk says again, sliding under the covers with him. “sorry about the bookshelf.”

“it’s okay, baby,” says yoongi, grinning wider and wider—this is it. he’s done his waiting.

jeongguk snuggles back into his chest once yoongi lies down, the lights going out as jeongguk’s wings wrap halfway around them again, and yoongi takes a deep breath. “hey,” he whispers, tapping jeongguk’s cheek. “hey, guk-ah.”

“what?” jeongguk mumbles. “m’trying to sleep.”

yoongi is so, so in love. and he’s going to say it. he’s going to admit it, going to make all of this right, finally. all he had to do was wait for jeongguk to come back to bed.

“i have something to tell you,” yoongi whispers, lips next to jeongguk’s ear. jeongguk makes a noise to show he’s listening, arms tight around yoongi. yoongi opens his mouth, thinks of lights and wings and the truth. thinks of love.

it’s always time to admit it, he thinks.

he will always be waiting for jeongguk to come back to bed.

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