can you please do a drabble with yoonkook for 24 and 32?! (your writing is so good and sugakookie is so adorable:)

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24. “You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

 

“Kook-ah.” Yoongi suddenly looks extremely apprehensive, “I don’t think…this is a good idea…maybe Namj-” At the look Jungkook shoots him through the mirror, he immediately backtracks, “-Okay, so not Namjoon…what about Jimin? Or Tae-tae? Taehyung’s done his ones by himself before…”

“So have you, hyung,” Jungkook pouts, “Why are you so against doing it for me?”

Yoongi goes silent, rolling the silver needle between his thumb and forefinger, acutely aware of how sharp the tip is, and how dangerous.

“I might hurt you,” he says finally, nibbling on his lower lip.

Jungkook turns around so he can look the older in the eye. “Hyung, you’re the only one I trust to do this.”

A bright red flush makes it’s way up from Yoongi’s neck and he turns away, “Have you sterilised the needle and all?”

“Not really…”

Yoongi sighs, snapping on a pair of latex gloves and wiping Jungkook’s lobe down with alcohol swabs before drawing a dot on the younger’s upper lobe.

“This look good?”

“Y-yeah…”

For all his bravado, Yoongi can see Jungkook getting more and more nervous by the second.

“Relax,” he tells the younger, taking out his lighter and sterlising the needle, “Hyung’s done this quite a few times.”

“I know.”

Yoongi tilts Jungkook’s chin slightly to the side, lining the sterilised needle up with the black dot on his lobe.

“Breathe in, Kook-ah.”

Jungkook in a lungful of air and the needle tip breaks the thin layer of skin and nerves. Quickly, Yoongi replaces it with the 16 gauge, thumb the younger’s cheek in reassurance.

“All done, Kookie.”

Jungkook tilts his head to the right, admiring the single conical, stainless steel stud now nestled on his upper lobe - a matching set with Yoongi’s matte, black one.

“Thanks, hyung.”

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warnings: coarse language

32. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

 

“Hyung. Hyung!”

Jungkook quickens his pace, easily catching up to the shorter boy, reaching one hand out and wrapping it around the older’s wrist.

“Yoongi!”

Yoongi doesn’t even flinch at the informality, but he does finally raise his eyes to look at Jungkook.

“You’ve got some nerve, brat.” Jungkook almost shivers at how cold his hyung’s voice is, “that’s Yoongi-hyung to you.”

“Sorry, hyung.”

Yoongi tries to wrench his hand out of Jungkook’s death grip, scowling and glaring at the younger when he fails.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

Jungkook knows he’s pouting and he hates how petulant he sounds but Yoongi had just stormed out in the middle of dance practice, looking like he’d come to some sort of realisation and Namjoon had sent him after the rapper with the reasoning that he usually listens to you, Kookie-ah.

Jungkook doesn’t get how any of this qualifies as listening to him.

“Goddammit Jungkook, let me go.”

“Not until you tell me why you stormed out!”

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” Jungkook stares and Yoongi’s voice breaks a little, “ing terrified. Happy?”

The grip around his wrist grows slack and Yoongi finally pulls his hand free, glaring up at the younger as though daring him to say something.

“I-”

Yoongi watches for Jungkook’s reaction, stays rooted to his spot even as everything in him is screaming at him to turn and run. He knows instinctively that running will make it worse, besides, now that it’s in the open he has to know.

So he throws caution to the wind, muttering a half-bitten curse as he winds one one arm around the younger’s neck and stands on tiptoe to press their lips together. It’s short, chaste, barely a kiss, but it sends shivers running up and down Yoongi’s spine as he pulls away, searching Jungkook’s eyes.

He barely registers the bright red flush across Jungkook’s cheeks before he’s being pulled back in. Their second kiss is longer and sweeter.

“Nothing to be scared of, hyung,” it seems to say.