𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐍

yoongi - request

HELP?

- in which yoongi is quietly working on music until he gets an itch on his back and needs your help; requested by kpop_girl200

He raps his knuckles against the edge of his desk, nodding his head along to new beat he created while allowing his eyes to flutter shut as he gets a better feel of the music, his lips stretching out in satisfaction.

You watch from the door, leaning against it with a sigh as you admire Yoongi at work, completely taken aback by how concentrated and devoted he is to it. How could he not be? Making music is his life, it always has been and nothing can ever beat the sense of accomplishment he feels every time he finishes a song.

"Hey," he coughs, removing his headphones once he notices your arrival, beckoning you over as you wave from the door. Obliging, you shuffle towards him, feeling your skin tingle when the tips of his fingers brush against the skin of your hand, ultimately wrapping around your wrist to tug you closer to him.

He wraps his arms around your middle and presses his cheek into your chest, sighing when you slowly begin to card your fingers through his unruly hair, playing around with the strands as he uses the rare break to his advantage, holding you close.

Eventually, he pulls away, offering you a grateful smile as you nod, going to sit on the couch he has in the corner of his room, pulling out your phone to keep you occupied. You hardly ever pay attention to it though, your thoughts all centred around Yoongi the minute you step foot into his studio. In fact, there's never been much point in distracting yourself as you always end up giving in to the temptation and falling for the siren's call that is his music.

All of a sudden, he stops, wincing in slight discomfort as he pulls his headphones off once again, sighing heavily as he stretches his arm across his back, his fingers flailing around as they try to reach the middle of his back.

"Stupid itch," he curses, face turning red as he tries to stretch out more.

You watch all of this unfold, snickering under your breath as he continues to stretch, ultimately having enough of his dilemma. Approaching him slowly, you grab onto his hand and replace it with your own, scratching the spot to relieve the irritation.

He sighs when you finish, throwing his head back onto your chest as you laugh openly, setting out the strands that frame his forehead as he closes his eyes for a few seconds.

"Thank you," he finally murmurs, latching onto your wrist when you attempt to make a move. Raising an eyebrow at him, you turn your head to see him patting his lap. Giggling, you sit yourself on top of him, curling into yourself as he goes back to making his music, occasionally asking you to take a listen.

Soon enough, you fall asleep in his hold, his free hand sifting through your hair in a lulling motion, his smile soft as he looks down at you.

"Goodnight, bubba," he mumbles, pressing his lips to your warm forehead as he carefully continues working.