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gimmethatagustd · 1 year

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cosmic collision (1) | myg + jjk

A responsible weedman, Yoongi always tests out new marijuana strains before selling them to his customers. When his supplier offers him a new strain, Cosmic Collision, Yoongi is eager to try it. What he doesn't expect is the alien that comes with it.

↳ pairing: weedman!yoongi x alien!jungkook

↳ wc/date: 6.8k | april 2023

↳ warnings: marijuana | yoongi blacks out from being too high, but i promise nothing bad happens to him | jungkook is so precious you might not survive | yoongi is TRYING HIS BEST

↳ notes: welcome to this silly lil world of galactic mysteries 👽 i hope you enjoy the journey. pls keep your arms, hands, legs, feet, and head inside the spacecraft at all times

↳ main masterlist // series masterlist

↳ what was jai listening to? know yourself - drake

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“What’s this one called again?” As Namjoon speaks, a thick cloud of white smoke rushes out of his mouth.

Hoseok is quick with a response, answering before Yoongi has a chance. “DJ Short Flo,” he reads the piece of masking tape stuck to the top of the glass jar on their coffee table. The name is scribbled in blue Sharpie.

Namjoon repeats the name to himself in a low and scratchy tone. He clears his throat a few times more than is really necessary. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Yoongi’s not sure the names of marijuana strains really need to mean anything, but he’s not part of the conversation. He’s too busy counting a rather fat wad of cash as he stands in the entryway of his apartment.

Suddenly, the chill vibes playlist Namjoon so artfully crafted for the group’s weekly Friday night smoke sesh pauses. He flashes a glare at Taehyung spread out on Yoongi’s bean bag as he passes the blunt off to Hoseok, who is now making grabby hands next to him on the couch.

“This is that nasty flow!” Taehyung belts the Drake lyrics prematurely, using his phone to switch from Namjoon’s playlist to the song that has seemingly popped into his head at the mention of Flo.

Hoseok’s eyes widen as he lifts the blunt to his lips. He takes a drag from it while his head leans over the back of the couch. “Hey, wasn’t that Yoongi’s rapper name in college? Or was it DJ Short Glow?”

“Top boy in this shit, I’m so international!”

Yoongi slams his foot into his dirty red Vans. He has to bend over slightly to hook his finger in the back of the shoe to pull it out from underneath his heel. Life would be much easier if he just untied his shoes and put them on correctly.

“It was Gloss.”

“Reps up is in here, got P Reign and Chubby and TJ and Winnie and whoa!” Taehyung’s voice cracks as he chokes out the lyrics, and smoke simultaneously puffs out of his nose and mouth.

“DJ Short Gloss?” Hoseok asks.

“Yeah, and you know how that should go!”

“Man, shut the fuck up.” Yoongi throws his middle finger up at whoever may be looking. “I’m not even short.” With his shoes on, Yoongi shrugs into a light windbreaker and stuffs the money into one of the pockets. He has to wiggle the pocket’s zipper a few times before it fully zips closed. “I’ma be back in probably two hours, okay?”

Hoseok and Taehyung are now belting an Ariana Grande song, so only Namjoon acknowledges Yoongi’s announcement. He throws his friend a thumbs up as smoke unfurls around the blunt squeezed between his lips.

“Have fun, bro. Tell Jin he better respond to my message on Discord. We got games to play.”

Yoongi gives the front door a sharp kick before he yanks it open. He reminds himself to figure out how to fix it from getting stuck constantly. The paint on the bottom corner is starting to crack from the number of toes that have jammed into it.

“Yeah, yeah. I got you, Joon.”

Seokjin is notoriously difficult to get ahold of. Yoongi can’t text him, which is understandable, even if using other apps like Discord to communicate is annoying. It always goes back to not wanting his real phone number associated with their conversations. Yoongi never feels like pointing out that a Discord account - like literally everything else - can be traced back to Seokjin’s phone. It’s a losing battle, and Yoongi isn’t the type to argue.

So he shoots WWHandsome#7451 a quick “omw” and drives the thirty minutes to Seokjin’s brother’s house. Or was it his cousin? Best friend? Yoongi can’t remember. All he knows is the guy is cute, and that is enough to make Yoongi not want to go to his house.

It’s a small house tucked away in the culs-de-sac of a modest but nice-looking suburb. Yoongi always feels dirty as he parks on the curb in his 2001 Honda Accord. The car has wires sticking out where the spoiler was once connected in the back (accidentally ripped off by Taehyung, who closed the trunk too hard). The metal below his front left headlight is dented and stitched together with black zip ties after Yoongi idiotically let Namjoon drive and his friend hit a mailbox.

The feeling of being out of place typically intensifies as Yoongi trudges up the walkway to the front door. He feels frumpy in his dad hat with a frayed bill, eccentrically-patterned pink button-up shirt over a white graphic tee, and forest-green joggers. He never cared about fashion; throwing on whatever’s clean is enough for him. But when Seokjin’s friend (Yoongi is now remembering they are just friends) flings the door open and lets his eyes roam over Yoongi’s frame, he wishes he’d at least ironed his shirt.

“Hello,” the man purs. He brushes blue-grey hair away from eyes that are sharp and heavy as he looks up at Yoongi through his bangs. Yoongi tries not to pay attention. “Jinnie’s in the basement.”

The basement is really just one giant gaming room with a spot off to the side dedicated to Seokjin’s rather impressive inventory of marijuana. He’s exceptionally organized, which Yoongi appreciates, with each glass jar and drawer stuffed with green buds neatly labeled. It makes the exchange quick and easy. Yoongi would prefer not to linger.

It’s not that Seokjin has ever done anything wrong. In all honesty, Yoongi can’t quite put a name to the feeling he gets in the elder’s presence. He just knows something about Seokjin makes him uneasy.

“Yoongi-ya, good to see you, my friend.” Seokjin’s hand clamps over Yoongi’s shoulder and his fingers dig into his clavicle.

“Good seeing you, too,” Yoongi mumbles. He shrugs off his backpack and holds it against his chest like a shield. However, it doesn’t protect him for long because Seokjin almost immediately pries it from Yoongi’s grasp. He watches as the older man tosses the empty bag onto the coffee table in front of a large TV, making the glass rattle.

“Sit.”

Yoongi plops onto the couch. Halo Infinite is paused on the TV. He knows nothing about video games, but he’s sure Namjoon would squeal over Seokjin’s setup. Yoongi makes a note to never tell him about it.

“Want your usual, right?” Seokjin asks though he’s obviously not in any rush to get Yoongi his supply when he settles beside him on the couch. He tilts his black bucket hat back, pulling the brim away from his eyes to expose dark eyebrows.

Seokjin wears clothes similar to Yoongi’s usual attire: comfortable graphic tees and joggers. He always manages to look better, though. Sleek and expensive, with logos of brands Yoongi doesn’t even know stitched into the fabric, all monochrome rather than the patterned clothing that makes Yoongi look like a rainbow threw up on him.

“Mhm,” Yoongi hums. “Chem Valley Kush, XJ-13, and DJ Short Flo sold really well.”

Seokjin’s eyes crinkle as he grins. In the dim lighting of the room, Yoongi swears his teeth look sharp. “XJ-13 put your ass in gear, didn’t it?”

This Yoongi has to smile at. “The most productive I’ve been in my life,” he laughs. “That tangerine aroma, too? Fuckin’ beautiful.”

Seokjin reaches for the clear glass bong atop the coffee table. He brings it to his lips, pausing momentarily to say, “It’s the Jack Herer in it.”

Yoongi watches the smoke furl through the intricately curled tubing. He’s always been more of a bowl kind of guy, but he doesn’t say no when Seokjin passes him the bong and a lime green lighter.

“I’ve got enough of all three, but try out this one.” Seokjin watches expectantly as Yoongi inhales and doesn’t continue talking until he blows a thick cloud toward the ceiling. “It’s called Cosmic Collision. Totally brand new strain, an experimental hybrid. Nobody’s got this on the street except me.”

“Cosmic Collision?” Yoongi runs his tongue across his teeth, then the inside of his cheeks, like he’s gathering the taste in his mouth. It’s fruity and went down so smooth it almost felt more like vaping or hookah than weed. “Tastes like cereal.”

“Good, right? Shit’ll take you somewhere otherworldly.”

Describing the strain as experimental and otherworldly is relatively accurate, Yoongi muses as he takes a few more hits from the bong. Each pull is smooth and surprisingly kind to his throat as he breathes it down. Weed like this is hard to come by on the streets. Most are harsh, perhaps from being doused in pesticides or growing in shoddy environments. Seokjin has never let Yoongi down, though. Everything he provides is always high quality, to the extent that Yoongi wonders if the man grows it himself or if he’s got the hookup with someone professional.

Before long, Yoongi sinks into the couch and forgets his promise of returning home after two hours. His phone buzzes in his pocket with text messages he can’t seem to find the desire to check. He doesn’t hear the notifications, only feels the vibration against his thigh. The sensation warms him to the point that the way his body tingles is a little embarrassing.

Something else buzzes in his ear, something he can hear as a muffled squeak that pulses against his eardrums. It’s rather annoying. Yoongi’s face twists into a slight grimace that quickly melts away when he feels something poke his cheek.

“Yoongi-ya!”

His head is almost too heavy to turn, but he manages. Seokjin’s image is blurry initially. It takes a few blinks for Yoongi to adjust, and only then does he realize his eyes have been closed for a good while.

“Hm?” Like his head, his tongue feels heavy to lift. His mouth tastes like Froot Loops. A small smile stretches his lips against his teeth. God, he’s so fucking high.

“Jimin and I need to leave; I’m sorry,” Seokjin gives him a sheepish look.

Yoongi blinks a few more times and wills his arms to lift up. He stretches his back with a groan. “Shit, sorry. Didn’t realize how long it’s been.”

His phone tells him it’s been nearly four hours since he arrived. His brain struggles to comprehend this new information, just like it struggles to accept that he has somehow migrated upstairs and is now sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water in front of him. When the fuck had he moved?

Seokjin gives him a knowing smile. “Drink more water when you get home. And drive safely!”

Nodding his head, Yoongi slings his backpack over his shoulder and follows Seokjin to the front door. The bag is heavy with what Yoongi assumes is weed - the whole reason why he came to the house in the first place. But he has no recollection of Seokjin giving it to him.

“That’s some strong shit,” Yoongi mumbles mostly to himself as he says his final goodbyes.

There’s the knowing smile again, though Yoongi doesn’t know what Seokjin knows that he doesn’t know. “Like I said, otherworldly. Have a good night, my friend. I’ll see you around.”

As he returns to his car, Yoongi decides that Seokjin most definitely gives him the creeps. A twinge of guilt accompanies the thought because Yoongi knows Seokjin hasn’t actually done anything to deserve such judgment, but he can’t help it. Knowing that he completely blacked out for hours with the guy sends a shiver down Yoongi’s spine. Smoking has never affected him like that before.

The car ride home is frigid and quiet. Yoongi leans forward against the steering wheel, grasping it with both hands and straining his eyes to see into the dark. Driving while high is a skill Yoongi has perfected over many years of smoking, but tonight he finds himself struggling to stay focused. His eyes keep flicking up to check the rearview mirror. He knows this means he’s so high that paranoia starts kicking in. He usually cuts himself off before that point, but tonight got away from him. Checking for cops in the rearview mirror is one of those paranoid habits of his. At least the sense of self-preservation isn’t too ridiculous. Driving while under the influence of marijuana is illegal, after all.

To his horror, the next time he looks into the mirror, the empty street isn’t what greets him. Instead, Yoongi stares into two large, bright eyes.

There’s a motherfucking person in his backseat.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi stomps on the brakes. The abruptness violently lurches the guy forward, making him smack his face into the back of the passenger’s seat.

The guy groans loudly and cups his hand over his nose. “Owww.” When he meets Yoongi’s eyes through the rearview mirror again, they’re shiny and wet. “You hurt me.”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

It doesn’t matter that he’s stopped in the middle of the street. Yoongi puts the car into park and twists in his seat to see the person behind him better. Any feeling of intoxication has swiftly left his body. He doesn’t think he has sobered up so quickly in his entire life.

The guy appears to be a few years younger than Yoongi. His shaggy black hair falls into his eyes, though most of his face is obscured by the large hood of his mossy-green sweatshirt. Looking down, Yoongi sees that he’s in a pair of black basketball shorts that are inappropriate for the cool autumn weather. Tattoos of strange symbols litter his hands and creep up his arms, from what Yoongi can tell. The thought that his teeth look sharp like Seokjin’s do flashes in Yoongi’s mind, but he’s too freaked out to linger on that. Imagined sharp teeth are nothing compared to how the younger man’s eyes glow with a turquoise ring around his black irises.

Despite the fear those eyes strike in Yoongi’s body, he can’t help but admire how beautiful the man is. Something about him feels… otherworldly, Seokjin’s voice sounds in Yoongi’s head.

“My name is-”

Whatever the man says is lost to Yoongi. His supposed name is nothing Yoongi has ever heard before, sounding more like strange clicks and whistles instead of a real language.

Apparently sensing Yoongi’s confusion by his mouth hanging open, the man gives him a nervous smile. “You may call me Jungkook if that is easier for you to pronounce,” he whispers hardly loud enough for Yoongi to hear. “When I am in this realm, that is the name I go by. Elder Seokjin gave it to me.”

Realm? Elder?

Yoongi shakes his head while his palms press into his eyes. Maybe if he slowly counts backward from ten and focuses on his breathing, the marijuana-induced hallucination will disappear.

Silently, he mouths the numbers until he finishes his ten seconds of attempted meditation. To his chagrin, he opens his eyes to see the strange man sitting on the edge of the backseat with his hands clasped between his thighs. He watches Yoongi in earnest.

“I can tell that you are upset.” He speaks slowly as if he thinks Yoongi may not be able to understand him. “There was nothing else that I could do, sir. Elder Jimin and Elder Seokjin closed the portal when they left after they assumed I had returned home without them. But I was in the garden! I do not like the smell of marijuana. It hurts my head so badly. I needed to get fresh air until you left.”

The man waits rather impatiently for Yoongi to respond. He fidgets in his seat, though he keeps his eyes locked with Yoongi’s. His gaze is so intense that Yoongi has to look away.

It’s too much.

Before any more bullshit can spew from the guy’s mouth, Yoongi flings the door open, snatching the keys before slamming the door shut behind him. His hand shakes as he presses the button to lock the doors, leaving him standing outside and the younger man inside.

He looks up at Yoongi through the back window with confusion. Yoongi could swear that the turquoise rings around his eyes dim.

Turning his back to the car so he doesn’t have to look at the man anymore, Yoongi finally takes out his phone. It takes Namjoon three calls to pick up, but Yoongi can’t be mad; he’s just grateful his friend picked up at all.

“Yoong. It’s three-thirty in the morning. Hobi said you never came home.”

There was a reason why he called Namjoon instead of his roommate. Hoseok is such a heavy sleeper, Yoongi knows it would have been pointless to try.

“I need you to come get me. I don’t really know where I am, but there’s a guy in my car.”

Silence on the other end of the line makes Yoongi grow antsy. He lets out a loud huff, then another to indicate the sense of urgency he needs his friend to share with him.

“What?”

“I’m not kidding, man. There’s some random fucking dude in the backseat of my car.”

Yoongi takes a peek over his shoulder. The guy has crawled halfway into the front seats and is pushing the buttons on Yoongi’s radio. Probably fucking up all his saved stations. Yoongi lets out a hiss.

“Bro, you’re tweaking.”

“Fuck you, I’m serious.”

“Tweeeeeaking,” Namjoon drawls. There’s a giggle in the background, the soft deepness of the sound unmistakable.

“Give Taehyung the phone.”

For a few seconds, Yoongi only hears more giggling and some rustling. He tries to respect his friends’ privacy and not ask why they are still together so late at night.

Eventually, Taehyung murmurs a greeting. “Hey, boss man.”

“Come pick me up right now. This dude is refusing to get out of my car.”

“What if he hotwires it, and when you go back in the morning, it’s gone?” Taehyung raises a valid concern, but Yoongi isn’t in the right mind to think with common sense.

“Then it’s fucking gone! It’s a piece of shit car anyway!”

Taehyung gasps. “Don’t talk about Mary Jane like that!”

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe he is tweaking. The universe must agree since he turns around to see an empty car.

“Yoongi?” Taehyung’s voice is small and distant.

Yoongi holds his phone a few inches away from his ear and stares at his car in disbelief. He slowly approaches it, peering into the windows to inspect the backseat. There’s nothing.

“Uhh… nevermind. I’ll be fine. Make sure Joon drinks some water, okay?” He hangs up before Taehyung has the chance to question him further.

With trembling hands, Yoongi unlocks the car and slides behind the wheel. Another quick look around confirms that he’s again the only person in the car. How was it possible for the other guy to get out? Yoongi knows that he locked the doors when he got out. But perhaps he unlocked them from the inside, and the alarm didn’t go off? Yoongi can’t think straight, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. His car is empty.

It remains empty for the rest of the drive. Yoongi is on edge the entire time, but he has calmed down considerably by the time he parks on the street near his apartment.

However, Yoongi doesn’t feel true security until he’s in bed, after showering away the smell of weed and the tingling feeling of his skin. The marijuana is put away, although he hides Cosmic Collision in his closet. He doesn’t know why, but something tells him to keep the odd strain to himself for now.

With how droopy the weed made him and the stress of the ride home, Yoongi quickly falls asleep to his Pink Noise playlist and tries not to dream of turquoise-ringed eyes.

Yoongi loves autumn Saturday mornings. He loves snuggling into his blankets while the sun gently kisses his skin. He loves tilting his head to see red and gold leaves glowing in the sunlight outside his window. He loves knowing there’s nothing that needs to be done, that he has a day to slowly move through the kitchen in his pajamas with a cup of coffee and a blunt with nowhere he needs to be. He loves gentle days.

Today, he does not have the pleasure of enjoying a gentle day.

Rather than the sun waking him, it’s his roommate. Hoseok squeezes Yoongi’s shoulders a bit too tightly as he shakes the older man awake.

“Yoongi,” he whisper-yells. “Yoongi, you didn’t tell me you had someone over. He’s really fucking hot, I get it, but you have to tell me! I just walked out of my bedroom naked, which I should be able to do since it’s my apartment, and I knew you wouldn’t be up yet, and surprise! Some gorgeous man is sitting on the couch, eating my chocolate chip cookies, by the way, staring at my dick! Do you know how embarrassing that is?!”

With squinted eyes and a scrunched nose, Yoongi stares up at Hoseok. To be perfectly honest, all he heard was hot, naked, cookies, dick. Which… Is not what one expects to talk about before their eyes have even adjusted to the daylight.

“Wha-what, Hoba, what?” Yoongi forces himself into a sitting position.

Hoseok flaps his arms at his side and lets out an exasperated sigh. “Your hookup is still here. And he saw me naked. And he’s eating my food. That is what I’m trying to tell you.”

“My hookup?”

“Yes, fuck. He’s really sexy in an adorable kind of way. I was shocked. Not really your usual type, but an improvement, honestly,” Hoseok rambles.

Ignoring the subtle dig at his taste in men, Yoongi tries to focus on the meaning behind his roommate’s words. He is no stranger to casual sex but seldom brings people over out of respect for Hoseok. It’s a situation precisely like this that he tries to avoid.

“But I came home straight from Jin’s… Didn’t I?” Yoongi wracks his brain, desperately searching for some kind of missing link. “I swear on my life, Hoba. I swear on my life I went to Seokjin’s and came straight home. You can ask Joon and Tae. I called them after I left because-”

Hoseok leaps back as Yoongi rips the blankets off of his body. “Fuck!” He flies out of his bedroom, feet barely touching the ground.

He’s breathing hard when he bursts into the living room.

The man from the night before - Jungkook - is cuddled up on the couch. He’s wearing the same outfit, though his hood is lowered now. Yoongi can see just how disarmingly beautiful the man is without the fabric obstructing his view. His face is round with flawless skin that practically glows in the daylight. His bangs are sticking out in all directions, hair mused in what Yoongi assumes is bedhead. Yoongi can’t help but find him kind of adorable, especially when his cheeks are puffy from stuffing so many chocolate chip cookies in his mouth.

Except he shouldn’t be fucking real! Or in his apartment!

As Yoongi steps closer, he notices the turquoise rings around Jungkook’s irises. Fear that Yoongi can only describe as primal tickles the base of his spine. It’s impossible to stamp down, no matter how many deep breaths he takes.

“You.” He points an accusatory finger. “You.”

Not his most intelligent moment, but his brain doesn’t know how to function anymore. A cookie-covered smile makes Yoongi falter, but he does his best to maintain a stern expression.

“Good morning, Yoongi! Your apartment is kind of dirty, but it feels cozy. I like it.” Jungkook places the now empty container of cookies on the coffee table. The action draws Yoongi’s attention to the stack of other empty food containers, beer bottles, weed residue, and game controllers littering the table’s surface. Maybe he is dirty.

Nah, fuck that. This is not what’s important right now.

Yoongi shakes his head, his shaggy blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Why are you here? How did you get here?”

Hoseok makes an odd sound that Yoongi desperately tries to ignore. But then he feels the press of a warm hand against the nape of his neck, and he can’t brush him off from how tightly Hoseok is digging into his skin.

“Yoongi…” He sounds like he’s about to scold him.

Before he can start, Jungkook hops up from the couch. Both strangely-tattooed hands lift upward, about chest-high, and he twists them to hold his palms out.

“It is my fault, Mr. Hoseok.”

“Just Hobi.”

Jungkook nods. “I did not explain the situation well. Elder Jimin and Elder Seokjin told me never to speak to humans about this, but I don’t know what else to do. No one else from our team is here, and they must wait until the next cosmic collision for the portal to reopen.”

His voice trembles as he speaks, and Yoongi worries the guy is about to start crying. He tugs at the many hoops adorning his earlobe and rocks on the balls of his feet, much like children do to comfort themselves.

Maybe he’s a dick, but Yoongi would prefer not to deal with a stranger crying in the middle of his living room.

“Cosmic collision? Like the weed?” He understands all the individual words Jungkook uses, but none of them in how he has strung them together.

The man bites his lip. His teeth wiggle as they dig into the pink flesh. At night they had appeared sharp, but in the daylight, they are blunt and almost too big for his face.

“Not the weed,” he says without further explanation.

Hoseok’s grip on Yoongi’s neck tightens until he turns to look at him. Human? He mouths not so subtly.

Yoongi shakes his head. Nothing about any of this makes sense. With a sigh, he runs his hands down his face and grimaces at how oily his skin feels.

“Look,” he starts, furrowing his eyebrows in Jungkook’s direction. “I’m gonna take a shower. And then I’m gonna drink a cup of coffee. By that point, I expect you to have called Jin or Jimin, fuck, I don’t care who, to take you home. Okay?”

Jungkook opens his mouth, likely to protest, but Yoongi tuts his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Nope. I said what I said.”

“Yoongi-ya,” Hoseok protests on behalf of the bewildered man. He follows Yoongi back into his bedroom, awkwardly wringing his hands as he watches him look for clean clothes to wear. “He seems genuine…”

“Genuine?” Yoongi scoffs.

Hoseok shoots him a glare. “Yes.”

“Did you not hear him, Hoba? Humans? Cosmic collisions? Portals? Last night he said he goes by ‘Jungkook’ when he’s in this realm and made some weird ass clicking sounds like The Predator, like that was supposed to be his fucking name.”

“Okay… that is a bit strange… But I think you’re being harsh. Clearly, the guy is confused, and if he’s a friend of Jin, I think you should be nicer to him.”

“Jin gives me the creeps, too.”

“Yoongi!” Hoseok untangles his fingers to wave them around. “Just, just take your shower. I will get all of us coffee, and we will sort this out.”

They do not sort this out.

While Yoongi showered, Hoseok probed Jungkook a bit further. It was all more or less the same, though. Utter nonsense.

He discovered that Jungkook didn’t know what coffee was, didn’t seem to understand why Hoseok had initially been upset that he’d seen him naked because “nudity is the natural state of all humans,” and seemed shocked that Hoseok could “alter” his features - pointing at the deep orange he had recently dyed his hair. As if to explain his thought process about the hair observation, Hoseok watched with thinly-veiled horror as Jungkook’s hair turned a deep purple right before his eyes.

Needless to say, as Yoongi inches his way into the kitchen after a shower that should have been refreshing but only left him feeling cold, he does not expect to see Hoseok leaning across the kitchen table to stare unblinking at their odd guest. Their odd guest whose previously-dark hair is an icy blue.

“Umm?”

Hoseok lifts his eyes to Yoongi. They’re bright and full of wonder, so shiny Yoongi worries he might be on the verge of tears. Out of sadness or something else, he’s not sure.

“He’s magic.”

Jungkook giggles at Hoseok’s declaration. However, one look at Yoongi’s narrowed eyes makes him clap his hand over his mouth.

“Excuse me?”

“He can change his hair color. And his eyes! See, look. Show him, Jungkookie.”

Jungkookie? In the time it took Yoongi to shower, they’d gotten on nickname-level?

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Yoongi forgets about his previous threat to kick Jungkook out. Instead, he sits at the table, lets the mug warm his hands, and tries to tell himself that the wave of heat burning down his body is from the coffee and not the intensity of Jungkook’s stare.

A stare that glows brighter the longer Yoongi looks at him until he watches the turquoise rings turn a deep pink. When Yoongi finally pulls his gaze from his eyes, he sees that Jungkook’s hair compliments his new eyes.

“What in the actual fuck?”

“I can change other parts of my body, too!” Jungkook beams. He shakes his head, and his hair returns to its original black. His eyes’ turquoise rings replace the pink. “It takes a lot of energy to change big things, like my facial structure. Hair and eyes are the easiest. I made myself taller when I first got to Earth, though. I like being tall.”

Yoongi slumps in his seat. If Hoseok wasn’t here witnessing this, he would assume that the weed Seokjin gave him was fucking with him harder than he could have imagined. But Hoseok is entirely sober and untainted by Cosmic Collision.

That means only one thing.

This shit is real. Whatever the fuck this is.

“Where were you before you came to Earth?” Hoseok is too willing to go along with this. But, on the other hand, Yoongi feels like everyone is playing a game he doesn’t know the rules to.

Jungkook’s nervous lip-biting returns, but he seems to push through his feelings. “Our planet is called Zephipra.” He shoots a quick look at Yoongi. “It is further into the universe than you humans have visited. Your scientists do not know about us.”

“So you’re an alien?” It comes out like a challenge without Yoongi meaning for it to. He feels a tiny bit bad when Jungkook deflates, closing in on himself as he draws his shoulders inward.

“We don’t like that term.”

Hoseok reaches an arm across the table. He flips his palm upward as though offering it to Jungkook to hold.

“What is a better term for you?” he asks softly, and Yoongi envies his roommate’s ability to be unconditionally kind.

It takes a few minutes of silence before Jungkook hesitantly squeezes Hoseok’s hand.

“I suppose extraterrestrial, but my people are called Zephi. That is also the language we speak.”

The gulp of coffee Yoongi takes is scalding. He should have waited for it to cool, knows this means his tastebuds and throat are burnt to shit and nothing will taste good for days. But he needs something to do as Jungkook rambles on about the history of aliens like this is all real.

Hoseok hums along, asking a few follow-up questions when something Jungkook says confuses him. Yoongi finds it all confusing, but he doesn’t say anything.

“So,” Hoseok claps his hands together and startles Yoongi out of his thoughts. “You said you’re stuck here until some kind of space phenomenon happens?”

Jungkook nods.

“And there’s absolutely no other way to get home?”

Another nod.

“Hmm…”

Yoongi accidentally catches Jungkook’s eyes once again. He knows his cheeks burn, but he doesn’t understand why. The heat only dissipates once Jungkook averts his gaze.

“How long does it take, usually?”

Jungkook draws the coffee Hoseok fixed for him closer. He peers down at the dark liquid and gives the light steam radiating off the surface a few sniffs. Yoongi doesn’t want to find how he scrunches his nose adorable, but he can’t stop the thoughts once they start.

“Hmm, usually a few weeks.” He looks at Yoongi again, and Yoongi really wishes he’d stop doing that. “Sometimes a month or two, right?”

Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up into his bangs. “How would I know?”

“Well, how often do you purchase marijuana from Elder Seokjin?” When Yoongi doesn’t respond, Jungkook sighs. It’s the first time he looks genuinely upset. “I have never been here alone.”

By the time what Jungkook has said clicks in Yoongi’s head, he and Hoseok have migrated back to the living room. Yoongi scrambles after them as he pulls up Discord on his phone. No new messages from WWHandsome#7451.

Scrolling through their history, he finds that there is a pattern to how often Yoongi buys from him. Once he sorts through stoner memes and news articles about the legalization of marijuana at the federal level, he can see that each conversation about picking up a new order occurs around every four to five weeks. Yoongi rarely initiates the conversation; he doesn’t have to. Seokjin will let him know he has a new supply, and Yoongi suddenly realizes that, yeah, he’s almost out. He mentally joked with himself about how astute Seokjin is, that he must have some sort of supernatural sense to know when Yoongi is running low.

Now Yoongi wonders if there’s more to it than that.

“Are you not supposed to be here on your own?” Hoseok drapes a blanket around Jungkook’s shoulders and tucks him into the corner of the couch where the cushions are the comfiest. With Jungkook taken care of, he flops onto the couch beside him, leaving Yoongi room on the opposite end.

Although Yoongi considers himself to be a pretty reliable guy, Hoseok’s ability to take control of an emotionally-charged situation is Yoongi’s saving grace. Unfortunately, he’s not the best when it comes to emotional shit.

Jungkook tugs at his earrings once again. His other hand curls into a fist he repeatedly hits on the top of his thigh. It’s not hard or aggressive, but it’s distracting.

“No. I am an… intern? I believe that is the correct term. Only researchers are allowed on Earth alone. Interns must stay with their research mentor. Mine is Elder Seokjin.”

Hoseok lets out an understanding hum. He peeks at Yoongi out of the corner of his eye, but Yoongi doesn’t think he gives Hoseok much to go off of. Yoongi still has no idea what to think about all this; his brain won’t let him.

The three men are silent for what feels like forever. The air is full of tension, although Yoongi wonders if he’s the only one who notices it. Jungkook simply looks worried, his fist still thumping against his thigh and his fingers playing with his earrings. Hosoek is almost completely relaxed. Yoongi knows his roommate well enough to tell from how his shoulders sag, and that he’s reaching for the pre-rolls and lighter resting on the coffee table.

“Is this the 93 Boyz?”

Yoongi shakes his head, amazed that his friend can casually light up a joint as if this is just a normal day. “Chem Valley Kush.”

“Nice,” Hoseok speaks out of the corner of his mouth before inhaling as he brings the lighter to the tip of the joint.

Jungkook makes a small noise, perhaps a cough, when Hoseok exhales. His cute little nose wrinkles up, and Yoongi remembers that he doesn’t like the smell of weed.

“Want some, kiddo?” Hoseok hands the joint to Jungkook, who hesitantly pinches it between his fingers like a snake ready to lunge at him.

With furrowed eyebrows, he brings the joint to his lips and sucks in the smoke. Yoongi averts his eyes when Jungkook looks up at him through his lashes, cheeks pink and hollowed. There’s something about the guy that makes Yoongi’s skin crawl.

Despite his dislike of the smell of weed, Jungkook takes a few hits of the joint like a champ, only coughing once, and even then, the sound was dainty and soft.

Yoongi accepts the joint from Hoseok when Jungkook passes it over. He tries not to think about how Jungkook’s lips had just wrapped around the end of the joint, the same place Yoongi is about to put his lips. He keeps the hit quick and deep, passing it on to Hoseok before he’s barely inhaled fresh air to push the smoke further into his lungs.

Only after Hoseok starts the second round of the rotation does he say, “Well, you’ll just have to stay here until the collision or whatever happens.”

Yoongi’s heart drops into the pit of his stomach while a blinding smile blooms across Jungkook’s face. “Whoa, wait a second. Why can’t he go back to their house?”

“We can’t leave him alone!” Hoseok chastizes him as though this is the most obvious solution to their dilemma.

“Hoba, where is he going to sleep?”

“Your room.”

Yoongi scoffs. If it’s Hoseok’s bright idea, it should be him giving up his bedroom. “Then where am I sleeping?”

“The couch.” Hoseok shrugs and passes the joint to a still-hesitant Jungkook. “Or with him, if you’re gonna be a little bitch about the couch. Do you care, Jungkookie?”

Jungkook inhales too deeply and sputters a rough “No, of course not” in between coughs that sound painful.

There’s no way in fuck Yoongi’s going to sleep in the same bed as an alien. “Do ali- I mean, Zephi, even need to sleep?”

Smoke rushes out of Jungkook’s nostrils. The rigid set of his jaw makes him look older and more angular. The masculine aggression of it makes Yoongi’s stomach twist - which he ignores.

“Yes,” Jungkook hisses. “We are not freaks.”

“No one said you were, kiddo.” Hoseok lightly flicks Jungkook under the chin before shoving the joint in Yoongi’s face with a grimace. “You, behave.”

With that, Hoseok rises from the couch. He places his hands on his hips and looks between the two men. Yoongi hates when he gets like this, calculating. Usually, whatever that over-imaginative brain cooks up is never good for Yoongi.

“Is there anything at your house you need while you stay with us?” Hoseok asks with his head tilted to the side as he examines Jungkook.

The alien - Zephi - chews on his bottom lip. His cheeks are still pink, as are his eyes. Except this time, it’s from being high rather than being some supernatural oddity.

“They took all my things when they returned home,” Jungkook admits after a long pause. He stares at his hands in his lap, lacing and unlacing his fingers to the point that Yoongi wants to grab his wrists and force them to his sides. “I don’t require much, though. I do not want to be a bother.”

At that, he steals a shy glance at Yoongi. Yoongi feels heat spread over his cheeks, so he opts to look at Hoseok instead. Which is a mistake because his roommate is glowering at him.

“Jungkookie, no matter how much of a dick Yoongi is, I promise you are not a bother,” he speaks to Jungkook but keeps his eyes on Yoongi.

“I’mnotadick,” Yoongi grumbles. He folds his arms against his chest and stares at his reflection in the TV. It’s not a clear reflection, but it’s enough to tell that his hair is, rather unfortunately, sticking straight up on his head.

“Anyway, I’ll let you borrow some of my clothes. I tend to wear them baggy, so they should fit you fine. I have to go to work soon - I’m a hairstylist. Fucked up, working on the weekends, right? Ahh, but anyway, you can stay with Yoongi.”

Jungkook merely nods with bright, round eyes gazing up at Hoseok as though the man is divulging his most remarkable secrets.

“And if he’s mean to you, you can, I don’t know, shoot him with lasers out of your eyes or whatever scary things you’re capable of.”

“Oh, I would never do that,” Jungkook quickly disagrees, turning those beautiful eyes to Yoongi.

“You can do that?”

“Yes, but I promise I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.”

Yoongi throws his head back against the couch and groans. His body starts to slip down the cushions, but he does nothing to stop himself from falling onto the floor.

“You cannot leave me with him, Hoba.”

“Oh, hush.” Hoseok swats the back of Yoongi’s head as he makes his way to his bedroom to get ready. “You’ll be besties in no time.”

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#yoongi x jungkook #jungkook x yoongi #yoonkook au #min yoongi #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #cosmic collision #jai writes #gimmethatagustd

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jemshopes · 1 year

Text

Cold Feet

--yoonkook drabble

Jungkook is set to get married, he’s blissfully in love… until half an hour before the ceremony when he suddenly realises holy fucking shit I can’t do this. So he goes to his best friend Yoongi, not just his friend, but his best man.

“I can’t do this, hyung, I can’t do this. I need you to get me out of here. please just take me somewhere else.”

But Yoongi doesn't. He sits Jungkook down and makes him breathe. He holds Jungkook's hands. He asks him if he’s really sure about running away. “It’s okay to be nervous, Kookie, but don’t let this ruin your love. I need you to think about it. Are you really prepared to lose him? Because that’s most likely what will happen if you leave now.”

But Jungkook is sure. He’s completely sure. He needs to go right now and Yoongi has to come with him. They need to run away together. Now.

And Yoongi says, “okay.” Simple. No arguments. No trying to persuade Jungkook otherwise. Just “okay.” And they leave, and they drive, drive, drive. And every time Yoongi tries to stop, Jungkook tells him to keep going, and Yoongi does. They drive all night, Jungkook sat stiffly in the passenger seat, Yoongi trying to keep his eyes open as the hour gets later and later.

It’s just as the first rays of sun are peaking over the horizon and Yoongi is damn well sure they’re lost in the middle of nowhere, that Jungkook tells him to pull over. The road they’ve taken is winding, leading all the way to grassy cliffs that look out on the sea. Everything smells of salt and oncoming rain and heather.

It’s a beautiful spot really, especially with the sun just beginning to light up the world. The wind is freezing, but Yoongi has coats for them. And after wrapping Jungkook up snugly in one, Jungkook staring aimlessly over Yoongi’s shoulder, he trudges through the heather, letting Jungkook lead him towards the edge of the cliff.

They stand quietly beside each other, watching the sunlight sparkle off the waves, the wind whipping their hair back from their faces. Jungkook is hugging himself, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He’s been gnawing at it on and off all during their journey.

Yoongi hasn’t tried to talk to Jungkook about Jungkook's choice to run away. He figured he’d give him time to think about it, let the decision sink in for both of them. But all night seems like plenty of time. Yoongi’s hungry and tired and there isn’t a toilet nearby. Not even a town or house for miles. It feels like they might as well be the only ones in existence, he thinks. Maybe that’s why Jungkook wanted to stop here, to pretend he won’t have to go back and deal with the mess he’s caused.

“Kookie…” he begins, turning towards him, reaching out a hand tentatively to touch Jungkook’s sleeve.

“Shut up! Don’t touch me,'' Jungkook snaps, so harshly that Yoongi flinches, hand dropping to his side.

Jungkook's eyes are full of tears and he’s fumbling in his pocket with cold fingers, teeth gritted with concentration.

“What’s your problem?” Yoongi retorts, not meaning to sound so angry. “It’s not my fault you ran awa—”

“My fucking problem is this.” Jungkook shoves something at him, a crumpled piece of stationary, crushing it against Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi can feel his fingers shaking where they press into Yoongi’s shirt, waiting for Yoongi to take the paper.

He takes it, cupping Jungkook’s hand to keep the paper from blowing away.

“How could you?” Jungkook says, voice cracking.

Yoongi knows what the piece of paper is without having to unfold it, but he unfolds it anyway and god he’d known the moment he saw it, but ice cold nausea clenches his stomach at seeing his own spidery, sloppy handwriting.

“Kookie, where did you get this?”

“Where did I get it?” Jungkook shouts, flinging his arms in the air. “Where the fuck do you think I got it? How could you? On my wedding day.”

Yoongi shakes his head frantically, tears pooling in his eyes. “No. I didn’t… Jesus Christ, I didn’t…”

He looks down at the messy note, written on front and back because he’d crossed out and restarted so many lines. Don’t get married. Please.

Jungkook’s voice turns scathing as he continues to shout. Yoongi’s heart beats like a drum in his ears. If someone had punched him in the stomach he’d feel less winded. His teeth knock together with the cold and he presses his hand over his mouth. He can’t run. He can’t even move. He’s shaking with each ragged breath, vision blurring. He doesn’t need to see the note, though, he has its words memorised.

Jungkookie, you have to know I love you. And I know I’m too late and I’m stupid for never saying so, but I was always so afraid of losing you. And now I am losing you anyway. I love, I love, I love you. For the love of god, don’t get married to him. Don’t move away. Don’t leave me. I love you. I’ve always loved you.

Jungkook's yells are mindless noise, lost in the wind, in the blood pumping in Yoongi’s veins, in the soundless sound of his own thoughts. “I threw it away months ago,” he says quietly, and is hyper conscious of Jungkook shutting up, of the only sounds being the crashing of the waves, the rush of the wind as it rustles in the grass.

He glances at him, sees his nose and cheeks are tinted pink with cold, eyes wet. Anger burns in them. It doesn’t suit Jungkook to look so hateful.

Yoongi looks back down at the note, closes his eyes for a moment, feeling his own tears begin to fall. He can’t look at Jungkook as he speaks, throat so tight it hurts to get anything out. “I swear, I threw it away months ago, the day I wrote it. I-I’m not an asshole, I wasn’t about to ruin your wedding.”

“No,” Jungkook barks, taking a step closer to jab him in the chest. “You’re an asshole.”

Yoongi’s chin wobbles. He can feel himself breaking at the seams, groping desperately in the corners of his mind for anything to say to fix this. Make it go away. “Please don’t hate me,” he whispers. It wouldn’t come out as anything else. “I can’t lose you. I threw it away. I didn’t do this. I don’t know who gave this to you, but I didn’t want them to.”

Jungkook laughs bitterly, looking out to sea. “You don’t get it, do you?” he says, softer. “Give me that.” Yoongi lets him rip the note from his grasp, hold it up, and begin to read from it. “I’ve loved you since we were in university together. Since the day before our exams when you calmed me down. I remember your hand in my hair. You knew it would work because you always saw me playing with my hair when I was nervous. You noticed I did that to soothe myself when I didn’t even realise I was doing it.”

Yoongi chokes back a sob, pressing his knuckles to his mouth. “Jungkookie—“

Jungkook stops him with a look. “Do you know how long ago that was? It’s been almost ten years, Hyung. Ten years. We’ve wasted ten years of our lives. We’re such assholes.”

“What?” Yoongi’s breath catches. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That I love you too, you fucking idiot,” Jungkook yells. The flats of his palms collide with Yoongi’s chest, but Yoongi doesn't move. He lets Jungkook take out his frustration, the hits feeble, more a series of pats than anything else. “You couldn’t have told me then? Or when we lived together? Or when I came out? Or any of the times I wasn't dating anyone? YOU HAD TO TELL ME ON MY WEDDING DAY? MY FUCKING WEDDING DAY. AFTER I SPENT HUNDREDS ON A WEDDING I’M NOT EVEN ATTENDING! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I TRIED TO ASK YOU OUT AND YOU JUST DIDN’T FUCKING GET IT? FOR FUCKS SA—”

“Jungkook-ah!” Yoongi cries, seizing him by the shoulders. He’s smiling so hard his mouth hurts. Every pore, every cell in his body is smiling, even though that’s not possible and doesn’t make any sense. He’s laughing, giggling flusteredly and he can’t control it because this must be a fucking fever dream.

Jungkook’s chest is heaving, tear-tracks glittering on his frozen cheeks. He isn’t looking at Yoongi, he’s staring at their feet, hands balled tightly into fists at his sides. “Why didn’t you get it?” he says at a normal volume, voice broken and hoarse. “Th-that time in uni when I asked if you wanted to get ramen at my place… I ended up feeling like an idiot because you really just thought I’d invited you for dinner. Everyone knew what that meant but you. You’re such an asshole.” He presses his lips together hard, muffling a whimper. Fresh tears streak down his face, clinging to his chin. He shudders with his next breath. “And I asked you to that office Christmas party as my date, but you thought I meant platonically because I didn’t have anyone else to go with. Who thinks stuff like that? You’re so—”

He stops mid sentence as Yoongi brushes his fingers over his cheek, leaning into the touch. “S-say it again,” Yoongi breathes, scared to ask, but terrified to stay silent. “Please.”

“Who thinks stuff like that?” Jungkook says, frowning.

Yoongi snorts. “Not that. Say…” he can’t get himself to say it, not when Jungkook’s looking at him like that, when Yoongi’s hand is cupping his cheek, when the sun is warming their faces on a clifftop like this is some confession scene from a period drama. He slips his fingers into the hair at the nape of Jungkook’s neck, stepping forward until their chests are touching. Jungkook hugs him fiercely, burying his face in Yoongi’s shoulder, and Yoongi returns the embrace.

“Say it again,” he croaks, trembling.

“I love you,” Jungkook whispers, fingers digging painfully into Yoongi’s back. “I’ve loved you since the weekend in uni when you looked after me because I had that stomach bug.”

Yoongi sobs loudly. “Fuck off, you absolutely have not. Say it again.”

Jungkook sniffles, nuzzling the crook of Yoongi’s neck softly, but he doesn’t argue the matter. “Did you really not mean for me to get the note?” he asks, timid.

Yoongi shakes his head. “No, but I--Hoseok-ah must have put it there. He’s been trying to get me to confess for years. Say it again.”

“Well, you can tell him he has to pay for the wedding he ruined.”

“Yeah. I will. Say it again.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Sorry, how many did I miss? Three? I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”