OFF THE RECORD — PART TWO
summary 𓂃⋆.˚ You weren’t looking for anything. Not between deadlines, late nights at the studio, and helping your best friend plan her wedding. Min Yoongi definitely wasn’t either. But somewhere between shared silences, quiet understanding, an unbothered cat and a energetic puppy… something begins to shift.
pairing 𓂃⋆.˚ producer!yoongi x a&r coordinator!reader
word count 𓂃⋆.˚ 4.3k (much shorter than p1 lol)
tags 𓂃⋆.˚ non-idol au, coworkers to lovers, slow burn, strangers to something more, soft tension, mutual pining (eventually), slice of life, studio setting, pet meet-cute, tang the cat, sori the puppy, yoongi is quiet but not immune, reader is stressed and trying her best, found comfort, a little angst, a lot of softness, emotional slow build, he notices everything, she overthinks everything, smut (eventually)
notes 𓂃⋆.˚ thank you for all the love on part one already ♡ i hope you enjoy this next chapter of these two idiots figuring things out
teaser ⋆˚꩜｡ part one ⋆˚꩜｡ part two
The rest of the week unfolded in the familiar quiet ease. All the tension from earlier that Monday had dissolved. You and Yoongi fell back into rhythm.
Only now, it felt… different.
You found yourself lingering in his studio more often, slipping into the now-familiar couch whenever your schedule allowed it. Between coordinating sessions, answering emails, and putting out the usual fires, you carved out small pockets of time where you could just… exist there.
Yoongi worked the way you’d come to expect. Focused, precise, completely absorbed. But when Tablo was in the room, something shifted. The atmosphere loosened. There was an ease between them that only came from history, from trust built long before you stepped into the picture. Their conversations flowed between vocal takes, casual but sharp, layered with understanding that didn’t need explaining.
You hadn’t realized how much you enjoyed observing it.
It grounded you in a way you hadn’t expected.
By Friday evening, the building had mostly emptied out.
You sat alone in the break room, a half-unwrapped sandwich in one hand, your tablet propped against the table. The soft glow of the screen lit your face as your finger scrolled through next week’s schedule, adjusting times, double-checking bookings, mentally mapping out everything before it could become a problem.
One earphone rested in your ear, a quiet shuffle of songs playing low enough to blur into the background.
You exhaled slowly, taking a small bite.
Down the hall, Yoongi stretched his shoulders as he walked, hands tucked loosely into his pockets.
He hadn’t meant to leave his studio for long. Just needed air. Space. Something other than the same four walls and the same looping melody that had started to sound like it was mocking him.
His steps were slow, unhurried, gaze drifting absentmindedly past open doors and dimmed rooms.
Most people had already left.
Which is why he noticed you immediately.
Through the break room doorway, head slightly tilted down, brows faintly drawn in concentration, completely absorbed in your work.
Paused for just a second.
Then kept walking. Two steps. Three.
There was a brief flicker of something across his expression before he exhaled quietly, turning back the way he came. His knuckles tapped lightly against the already open door.
Your head lifted instantly.
You pulled your earphone out, a small smile forming the moment you saw him.
He leaned slightly against the doorframe, gaze flicking briefly to the tablet in your hands, then back to your face.
“It’s late,” he said, voice low, even. “Why are you still here?”
You glanced down at your screen, then back up, shrugging lightly.
“Just confirming a few schedules for next week,” you explained. “Figured if I finish it now, that’s one less thing to deal with over the weekend.”
He nodded once, like that made perfect sense. It did.
A small silence settled between you.
Then, he spoke, “You going to the park?”
Your eyes flickered up to him, just slightly surprised at the question. For a second, you just looked at him. Then you glanced at the time on your tablet, huffing out a quiet breath.
“Yeah,” you admitted. “It’s late but I still have to take Sori out.”
He nodded again, shifting his weight just slightly.
“Well,” he said, almost casually, “I’ve got to take Tang.”
His gaze held yours, steady.
“…So I’ll see you there.”
You blinked, just a fraction caught off guard by how naturally he said it.
Like it was already decided.
Like this was just… a thing now.
“…Yeah,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. “See you there.”
Something softened in his expression, barely there. He gave a short nod, pushing off the doorframe.
“Don’t stay too long,” he added, glancing once more at your tablet. “You said you wanted your weekend.”
You let out a quiet laugh. “I’m wrapping up.”
He didn’t respond to that, just gave you one last look before turning and heading back down the hall.
And for a moment, you just sat there.
Staring at the doorway he’d disappeared through.
Your fingers stilled against the screen.
A strange, warm feeling settled somewhere in your chest.
Just…something to look forward to.
This was the latest you had ever come to the park.
The lamps lining the paths cast soft pools of golden light, but beyond them, shadows stretched long and quiet. The usual daytime buzz was gone. No distant laughter, no clusters of people, no dogs pulling at their leashes in every direction.
Which made it very easy to spot him.
Yoongi stood a little further down the path, Tang resting comfortably in his arms, her dark fur almost blending into the night. He noticed you almost immediately, shifting slightly as you approached.
And the second Sori caught sight of the small black shape, her entire body lit up. Her tail began wagging wildly as she let out an excited little yip, tugging at the leash like she’d just spotted her new favorite person.
You let out a small breath of a laugh, tightening your grip slightly as you slowed to a stop in front of him.
“I’ve never seen the park this empty before,” you said, your voice softer than usual in the quiet.
“Yeah,” Yoongi replied, glancing around briefly before looking back at you. “This is late even for me.”
“Really?” you asked, brows lifting slightly.
“Why do you sound so surprised?” he huffed, though there was no real annoyance behind it as he bent down, gently placing Tang onto the gravel path.
Sori immediately bounded forward, nose twitching as she circled the cat with endless curiosity. Tang, on the other hand, simply walked forward at her own pace. Calm. Unbothered. Like this was beneath her.
You watched them for a second, a smile tugging at your lips.
“You practically live at the studio,” you shrugged.
Yoongi glanced at you, then back at the path ahead as he started walking, hands slipping into his pockets. Tang followed beside him, leash loose, steps unhurried.
“…Not wrong,” he admitted.
You fell into step beside him, Sori trailing Tang like an overly enthusiastic shadow.
For a while, neither of you said anything. Just the soft crunch of gravel under your shoes. The quiet jingle of Sori’s collar. The steady rhythm of two people walking without needing to fill the space.
It was… easy. You weren’t used to that.
Your fingers tightened slightly around the leash before you glanced over at him.
“…Can I ask you something?”
Yoongi didn’t look at you right away, but you caught the slight tilt of his head.
You hesitated for a second, like you were deciding how to phrase it.
“How did you get into producing?” you asked finally. “Like… how did all of this start for you?”
He glanced at you briefly, then forward again, expression unreadable for a moment.
“…Middle school,” he said after a beat.
You blinked, a little surprised. “That early?”
His voice was calm, but quieter now. Not guarded, exactly. Just… more inward.
“I started making music back then. Nothing serious at first. Just… messing around.”
You nodded, listening closely.
“My parents didn’t like it,” he continued. “They didn’t think it was something you could build a life on.”
Your brows knit slightly. “So what happened?”
“I wanted to move to Seoul after high school,” he said. “They wanted me to go to university first.”
You hummed softly. “So you compromised.”
“Something like that,” he replied. “Applied for a music program. Got in. Moved anyway.”
“But I kept making music the whole time,” he added. “Started getting attention. Small things at first. Then more.”
You smiled slightly. “And now you’re here.”
He huffed lightly, almost like a quiet laugh. “Yeah.”
You let that settle for a second, watching Tang step neatly over a crack in the pavement, Sori immediately copying her like it was a game.
“…Can I ask something else?” you said after a moment.
Yoongi glanced at you again. “You already are.”
You rolled your eyes a little, but smiled anyway.
“The rumours,” you said, a bit more carefully this time. “About you.”
He didn’t respond immediately. You saw the shift. Subtle, but there.
“…What about them?” he asked.
You hesitated, you weren’t sure why you brought them up again. Then just said it.
There was a beat of silence.
“…I don’t really know how that started,” he said honestly. “I’ve always just… worked the way I work.”
You tilted your head slightly and nodded.
“I’ve just been… focused,”
He glanced at you, just briefly. “I don’t like wasting time,” he added. “Or pretending things are good when they’re not.”
“I think it’s kind of sad,” you admitted. “That people see you like that.”
That made him look at you again.
“Because you’re not,” you added, meeting his gaze. “You’re not like that.”
There was a flicker of something in his expression. Quick. Gone just as fast.
“…What if I am,” he said, tone almost too casual. “And I’m just lying to you?”
You stopped walking. Completely.
Which, of course, forced him to stop too. He turned slightly, looking back at you.
Your brows were drawn together, eyes fixed on him.
“That would be really mean of you to admit when we’re in a park. In the dark. Alone.” you said, completely serious.
A quiet laugh slipped out of him.
“I’m joking,” he said, shaking his head slightly.
You narrowed your eyes at him, but the tension had already eased.
You scoffed, but there was a smile tugging at your lips as you started walking again.
After a moment, the two of you drifted toward a nearby bench, settling down almost without discussion. Sori curled near your feet, still watching Tang like she was the most fascinating thing in the world. Tang, meanwhile, had already claimed a spot beside Yoongi like she owned it.
A quieter silence settled this time.
“Can I ask you something?” Yoongi said.
You blinked, a little surprised.
“…Depends,” you replied cautiously.
He glanced at you, unimpressed. “That’s not how this works.”
You huffed. “Fine. Go ahead.”
“How did you end up here?” he asked. “In music.”
Your grip on the leash tightened slightly, your gaze dropping to your hands. For a second, you considered giving him something simple. But…
“My dad,” you said instead. “He was a music teacher,”
You continued, voice softening without you meaning it to. “Piano, mostly.”
A faint smile tugged at your lips, distant.
“He used to play all the time when I was younger. I think that’s where it started.”
Yoongi’s head tilted slightly. “You play?”
“Used to,” you said. “He taught me.”
“I was pretty serious about it, actually,” you admitted. “I wanted to be a pianist.”
You let out a quiet breath, your smile fading just a little.
“But then he had an accident when I was in high school.”
The words were simple. You kept them that way.
“He’s okay,” you added quickly, almost out of instinct. “He just couldn’t go back to teaching.”
Yoongi nodded once, expression unreadable but attentive.
“And I don’t know,” you shrugged faintly. “I think that was the first time I really understood that loving something doesn’t always mean you can build a life out of it.”
“I’m the oldest,” you added. “…I had to be realistic. But, I still wanted music in my life.”
Your fingers loosened slightly around the leash.
“So I applied to a music business program in Seoul with a scholarship.”
A faint smile returned, a little more grounded this time.
“I interned at the label during college.” you explained, “Then after I graduated, they offered me a job.”
You shrugged lightly. “And now I’m here.”
Yoongi was quiet for a second. Then spoke, “Well, you’re good at what you do. You’ve definitely made my life a lot easier these past few weeks.”
Your eyes flickered up to him, “…Thanks. I’m glad to help.”
A brief pause followed, his gaze drifting ahead before settling back on you.
“Since we’re on this topic, I’m thinking of putting in a request,” he said.
You blinked. “…For what?”
“For you to stay on as my A&R.”
The words landed a second late. “…What?”
“They told me my coordinator’s coming back next week,” he continued, tone steady. “But I’d rather not switch.”
Your brows pulled together slightly, still processing. “You mean… you want me to keep working with you?”
“We’re already in the middle of Tablo’s record,” he said. “Changing people now will just slow things down and cause unnecessary problems.”
“And,” he added, quieter, “I like how you work.”
You held his gaze for a moment, then something in your expression shifted, just slightly.
“…So,” you said, tilting your head, “what you’re saying is, you think we make a good team?”
Yoongi’s eyes narrowed a fraction, catching the tone immediately.
“If you don’t,” he replied flatly, “I won’t bother putting in the request.”
You let out a soft laugh, the sound lighter than before.
“Okay, okay,” you said, shaking your head. “Don’t get dramatic.”
He huffed quietly. You looked at him for a second longer, something warmer settling in your chest.
“…I’d like that,” you said.
“You’d like what?” Yoongi smirked, leaning slightly closer.
“I’d like to keep working with you.” Your voice softened just slightly as you added, “We make a good team.”
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Nearby, Sori shifted closer to Tang again, and this time, Tang didn’t move away. Just flicked her tail once, tolerating her presence. You noticed immediately, a small smile forming.
“I think they like each other,” you said.
Yoongi glanced down, watching them for a second.
Your shoulder brushed his lightly as you leaned back against the bench.
Neither of you moved away.
And for a moment, under the soft glow of the park lights, with your pets settled close by and the world quiet around you, it felt like something had gently, quietly shifted into place.
Yuri’s apartment looked like a wedding had gently exploded inside it.
Fabric swatches in soft pastels were draped over the back of chairs, ribbons curled like sleeping snakes across the coffee table, and a half-open laptop displayed the fifteenth version of a seating chart. Somewhere in the middle of it all sat you, cross-legged on the rug, carefully tying small tags onto what Yuri insisted were “minimalist but meaningful” wedding favors.
Sori was sprawled beside you, chin resting on your thigh like she’d personally clocked in for emotional support duty.
“I still think this is too much,” you muttered, holding up a finished tag.
Yuri didn’t even look up. “It’s not too much, it’s thoughtful.”
“It’s going to make people feel guilty for not bringing good gifts.”
That earned you a laugh. Yuri finally glanced over, eyes soft as they flicked between you and Sori.
“Well, at least you’ve got some emotional support,” she said, nodding toward the puppy.
You absentmindedly ran your fingers through Sori’s fur, the motion slow, familiar.
There was a beat. Then Yuri tilted her head slightly.
“…Has there been any update? From the shelter?”
Your hand stilled for half a second before resuming its gentle rhythm.
“No,” you said. “Nothing yet.”
Another pause. This one heavier.
“I’ve actually been thinking…” you started, quieter now, eyes fixed somewhere near Sori’s ear. “About maybe just keeping her.”
That got Yuri’s full attention.
“What?” she sat up straighter, excitement already sparking. “Are you serious?”
You huffed out a small breath, like you weren’t entirely sure yourself.
“I mean—it makes sense,” you said. “She’s already settled in. And…” you hesitated, then shrugged lightly, “I’ve kind of gotten used to having her around.”
Yuri’s expression softened immediately.
“Awhhhh,” she cooed at the two of you.
Sori, completely unaware of the life decision being made on her behalf, blinked up at you and thumped her tail once. You smiled faintly.
“It’s just… nice,” you admitted. “Coming home and not having it feel so quiet. And she’s made friends at the park too. There’s a whole little routine now.”
“I’d die to see all the little puppies running around the park?” she exclaimed.
“Actually, her favourite friend is a cat.”
You let out a small, sheepish laugh, already feeling heat creep up your neck.
“A cat,” you repeated. “She’s black and her name’s Tang. Sori loves her.”
Yuri stared at you like she was trying to solve a puzzle at lightning speed.
“Is this like a stray cat…?” she said slowly.
You looked down, suddenly very interested in fixing one of the tags that didn’t need fixing.
“No, there’s an owner,” you added, like it wasn’t a big deal.
“Mm-hmm,” Yuri leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “And does this owner have a name?”
You hesitated just long moment, then nodded.
“Oh my god! It’s not—” you started quickly. “The producer guy?”
You pressed your lips together, which was apparently all the confirmation she needed.
“IT’S HIM,” Yuri practically shouted, grabbing a cushion and hitting your arm with it. “You’ve been meeting Yoongi at the park?!”
“We run into each other,” you corrected weakly.
Yuri actually squealed. “You’re joking. You are joking.”
“It’s not anything, stop freaking out.” you insisted, even as your voice betrayed you just slightly. “We just walk them together. That’s it.”
“That’s never just it,” she shot back immediately. “This is like a prelude. This is chapter one. This is something.”
“It is not,” you said, firmer now. “We’re coworkers. And… friends.”
Yuri’s eyes dropped to your face, her expression shifting into something far too knowing.
“…Then why are you blushing?”
Your hand flew to your cheek like you could physically stop it.
“You are,” she grinned. “Y/n, you haven’t dated anyone in what, centuries? Suddenly there’s a mysterious cat-owning producer in your life and I’m supposed to believe this is nothing?”
“It is nothing,” you insisted again, though it came out quieter this time. Because now your brain had decided to join the conversation.
Coworkers. Friends. Walking together. Talking. Sitting on benches maybe a little too close. Laughing more easily than you usually did.
The way he noticed things.
The way you… noticed him.
The way those walks had slowly become routine without either of you ever saying it out loud. Finishing work and subconsciously checking the time. Taking Sori out a little later than necessary just to catch him with Tang. The quiet rhythm you’d fallen into. Side by side, not talking for minutes at a time, and somehow it never felt awkward.
You weren’t like this. You didn’t let people slip into your life this easily, didn’t let them carve out space in your day without questioning it. Work had always come first, neatly organised, controlled. People stayed in their lanes. Boundaries were clear.
But somewhere between Tang lazily circling Sori, his dry comments that caught you off guard just enough to make you laugh, and the quiet refuge of his studio becoming part of your routine, those lines had… blurred.
You blinked, trying to push the spiral away.
“Yoongi is just a friend.” you said finally.
Yuri’s expression softened again, but the excitement didn’t fade.
“I just want you to be happy, y/n.” she said gently.
You exhaled, leaning back slightly, your hand finding Sori again like an anchor.
“I know you do,” you murmured, more to yourself than to her. “I promise, I’m fine.”
Yoongi looked down at his watch. You were supposed to meet him at your bench almost ten minutes ago.
The thought sat there for a second longer than it should have.
He looked up. There you were.
A teasing smile playing on your lips, eyes brighter than usual like you already knew you’d caught him waiting. You unclipped Sori’s leash, and the puppy bolted toward him like a tiny, overexcited missile.
Yoongi forced his gaze away from you and down to Sori, who was already pawing at his leg like she had a personal vendetta against standing still.
He’d never considered himself a dog person. Still didn’t, technically.
But he had definitely come to have a soft spot for Sori.
And maybe an even softer one for her foster mom.
He crouched slightly, scratching behind Sori’s ear, earning an immediate, aggressive tail wag.
“You’re late,” he said, glancing up at you briefly.
“Relax,” you shot back, hands slipping into your jacket pockets as you stepped closer. “It was barely ten minutes.”
“Anything can happen in ten minutes.”
Your brows lifted, something playful flickering across your face.
“Awh,” you tilted your head just slightly, “were you worrying about me, Yoongi?”
He rolled his eyes on instinct, but there was a faint smirk tugging at his mouth that he didn’t bother hiding.
“You’re not that important.”
“Wow,” you pressed a hand to your chest dramatically. “After everything we’ve been through. Did you forget you wanted me to stay on as your A&R?”
“Alright. Alright, no need to rub it in.” He huffed out a quiet laugh.
It still caught him off guard sometimes.
Not the composed, tightly wound A&R coordinator who walked into his studio with a schedule in one hand and coffee in the other. Not the one who spoke professionally, measured every word, kept everything in place like it might fall apart otherwise.
This you was… lighter. Looser.
Your smiles came easier out here, less restrained, real enough that your eyes crinkled at the corners. Your laugh, when it slipped out fully, had no filter at all, sudden and bright like it surprised even you.
And somehow, he’d gotten used to being on the receiving end of it.
He straightened as Tang padded on at her usual unbothered pace, immediately ignoring Sori’s attempts to initiate chaos.
You fell into step naturally after that.
No discussion. No hesitation.
It had become easy. Too easy.
Yoongi slipped his hands into his pockets, gaze drifting ahead as Sori trotted slightly ahead of you both while Tang stayed close to his side.
He’d gotten to know you like this, in the quiet spaces between conversation.
The way you hummed under your breath sometimes when it got too quiet. The way you absentmindedly reached down to pet Sori even when she wasn’t asking for it. The way you’d go from reserved to unexpectedly funny in a split second, catching him completely off guard with something so dry it took him a second to process it before he was laughing.
It wasn’t a version of you many people at work really saw.
More than he probably should.
He didn’t bother with shoulds.
No point pretending otherwise.
His gaze flicked toward you again, lingering for just a second before he spoke.
“You never answered me,” he said. “Why were you late?”
“I was at a friend’s place, Yuri,” you said. “She’s getting married soon, I’ve been helping her plan everything.”
Yoongi glanced at you briefly, interest quiet but present.
“Yeah. We’ve known each other since college.”
Beside him, you kicked lightly at a stray pebble before speaking again. “So… I’ve been thinking,” you started, a little more quietly this time.
“You’re always thinking.”
“Do you want me to continue or—”
You exhaled, then said it in one breath, like if you slowed down you might overthink it. “I’ve been thinking about keeping Sori.”
Yoongi didn’t even pause.
“I think that’s a great idea.”
You blinked at him, clearly not expecting the immediate response. “…You do?”
He glanced down briefly at the puppy in question, who was now attempting to chew on a leaf like it had personally offended her.
“She’s basically already yours,” he said simply.
Something in your expression softened at that.
“Are you sure?” you asked, and there was something quieter under it now. “I mean—it’s a big responsibility.”
He stopped walking. That alone was enough to make you stop too. When you looked at him, he was already looking at you.
“Well, it’s a responsibility you’ve already taken on. You love her,” he said.
“And she clearly loves you,” he added, nodding once toward Sori, who had now circled back and was leaning against your leg like she belonged there.
There was a brief silence. The kind that settled, not stretched. You looked down at Sori, then back up at him, something warmer sitting behind your eyes now.
“…Thanks,” you said softly.
Then, after a beat, a small smile tugged at your lips.
Your days had slipped into a rhythm so seamless it almost felt rehearsed. Work, park, dinner, sleep. Somewhere in between, frantic bursts of wedding planning with Yuri and the occasional moment where you actually sat still long enough to breathe.
It should’ve felt monotonous.
Because somewhere along the way, parts of your day had started to… matter more than the rest.
Walking into the building, knowing you’d end up in Yoongi’s studio within the hour, tablet in hand, going over schedules like always. Except now it wasn’t just work. It was the way he’d already be there, half-listening but always catching the important parts. The way your conversations drifted off track sometimes, just slightly, before snapping back into place.
Or the afternoons, when you found yourself gravitating toward his studio without really thinking about it. Sitting in the corner, pretending to focus on your own work while the low hum of whatever he was producing filled the space. Comfortable. Quiet.
You didn’t meet every day. You told yourself that was a good thing.
But on the days you did, something about everything else felt… lighter. Like the edges of your day softened a little.
Which didn’t make sense. At all.
You weren’t the kind of person who built their routine around someone else. You didn’t depend on people like that, didn’t let them slip into your life in ways you couldn’t clearly define.
Why did seeing him in the morning feel like something to look forward to?
Why did sitting in his studio feel like a break instead of an extension of work?
Why did a simple walk in the park with him feel like the best part of your day?
You exhaled quietly, shaking your head at yourself.
It wasn’t anything. It couldn’t be.
You were coworkers. Friends. That was it.
There was no neat label for whatever this feeling was, no clear explanation, and that alone was enough to keep your thoughts circling back to it, over and over, like your brain was trying to solve something that didn’t want to be solved.
Still, you didn’t hate it. That was the problem.
This week, though, had shattered whatever calm routine you’d settled into. The label had landed a major opportunity. A collaboration with PSY for his upcoming single. And he wanted to work with Yoongi.
As Yoongi’s A&R, that meant your workload had doubled overnight.
Coordination, scheduling, managing sessions, handling communication between teams, keeping everything moving without letting anything fall through the cracks—not just for this project, but for every other artist and producer you were already working with.
And if you were being honest, it left you with very little time to think about anything else.
The building had thinned out hours ago, the usual buzz replaced with a kind of late-night hush that made every sound feel sharper. Your footsteps echoed softly down the hallway as you slowed in front of Yoongi’s studio door, fingers hovering for a second before you nudged it open just enough to peek in.
You’d only meant to check if he was still here.
Maybe remind him to go home.
But your thoughts stalled.
Yoongi was hunched forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, one hand pressed to his temple like he was trying to physically hold his thoughts together. The dim glow of the monitor painted tired shadows under his eyes, his hair slightly mussed from what looked like repeated frustrated runs of his hands through it.
Something in your chest tightened.
You pushed the door open a little wider.
He stilled for half a second before looking up. The shift was immediate. The faint release in his shoulders. The way his expression softened just slightly when his eyes landed on you, like your presence alone took the edge off something.
“…You’re still here,” he said, voice rougher than usual.
You stepped inside fully this time, closing the door quietly behind you.
“So are you,” you replied, brows knitting as you walked closer. “You okay?”
He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.
“Yeah,” he said automatically.
That earned the smallest huff of breath that might’ve been a laugh on a better day.
You stopped beside his desk, glancing at the screen, then back at him.
“It’s the PSY track?” you asked.
He nodded once, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s not… landing the way I want it to.”
A project like that wasn’t just important, it was high-pressure in a way that didn’t leave room for off days. And Yoongi didn’t do things halfway.
“Have you slept?” you asked quietly.
You sighed, crossing your arms lightly. “Yoongi.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted, but it lacked conviction.
Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before you stepped a little closer, close enough to rest your hand lightly on the edge of his desk.
“You don’t have to get it perfect tonight, we’ve still got time.” you said, softer now. “You’ve been working on this nonstop for days. At some point your brain’s just going to start working against you.”
He looked at you then. Really looked.
And for a second, the room felt smaller.
“You always this gentle with your producers?” he asked.
Your breath caught ust slightly.
“You,” he clarified, gaze steady, something faintly amused threading through his exhaustion. “You talk like that to everyone, or am I getting special treatment?”
Your brain did not like that.
Why would he say that? Why would he say it like that? Why is he looking at me like that? Is he—no. No, he’s tired. He’s just tired. This is a sleep-deprived man speaking. This is not real.
You blinked, forcing your expression to stay neutral.
“I talk like this to anyone who looks like they’re about to pass out in their chair,” you said, aiming for light.
He hummed, like he didn’t quite believe you.
Silence stretched for a beat. Not uncomfortable.
You cleared your throat, glancing away for a second before looking back at him.
“You should go home soon,” you said. “Get some actual rest. You’ll hear things differently in the morning.”
He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his gaze dropped, briefly, to your hand where it rested against the desk.
His fingers had brushed against yours.
But intentional enough that it sent something sharp and electric up your arm.
Your eyes snapped to his.
“If I listen to you,” he said slowly, “you have to do something for me too.”
Your brain fully short-circuited.
His thumb shifted slightly against the side of your hand, not quite holding it, but not moving away either. Like he was testing the space. Like he was waiting to see if you’d pull back first.
“You’re always the one giving orders,” he murmured. “Seems fair that I finally get something in return.”
What is that supposed to mean. What is that tone. Why is he—
You swallowed, trying very hard to keep your expression from betraying the absolute spiral happening internally.
“I’m not— I wasn’t giving orders,” you said, a little too quickly. “I was just—suggesting. For your health. And your work. Which I manage. So it’s technically my job to—”
Great. Now you were rambling.
Oh, he thought this was funny.
“Relax,” he said, softer now, but there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I’m kidding.”
And that was somehow worse.
Because now your brain was trying to rewind the last ten seconds, analyse tone, word choice, eye contact, hand placement—
Your gaze dropped instinctively.
Still there. Still lightly brushing yours.
You pulled your hand back like you’d just remembered it existed.
“Right,” you said, clearing your throat as you adjusted your tablet. “Yeah. Funny.”
He leaned back in his chair, watching you for a moment like he was trying to piece something together.
You nodded quickly, grateful for the shift. “Yeah. I was just checking if you were still alive before I left.”
That pulled a small, real smile from you despite everything.
“Go home,” you said again, softer this time. “Please.”
He held your gaze for a second longer, then nodded.
“Yeah,” he said. “I will.”
You lingered. Just for a second.
Then turned toward the door before you could overthink that too.
You stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind you.
You stopped walking. Stared straight ahead. And exhaled.
“…What the hell was that.”
Because there was no way that was normal.
It was no longer sitting comfortably in the “just coworkers” box.
The moment the door swung open, you barely had time to step inside before you were engulfed in a pair of long arms.
“Y/N!” Hoseok’s arms wrapped around you in a dramatic squeeze, nearly lifting you off your feet. “Look who finally remembered she has friends.”
“I saw you yesterday,” you huffed into his shoulder, though you couldn’t help smiling.
“At work,” he pulled back, hands still on your arms, pouting now. “Which doesn’t count. And even then—” his eyes narrowed, “—I feel like I barely see you at the company recently.”
You rolled your eyes, slipping off your shoes. “I’ve been busy.”
“Busy,” Namjoon echoed from the living room, tone slightly teasing. “Yeah. We’ve heard.”
You turned just in time to see him leaning back against the couch, arms crossed, a knowing look on his face. Your eyes squinted at him as your approach, lifting your arms to settle around his shoulders.
“With a certain someone,” he added mid hug, not even trying to be subtle.
“Oh fuck off.” You rolled your eyes, but there was no real bite behind it.
“I mean,” Jimin chimed in, grinning as you moved in to hug him, “I have also been seeing you around his studio a lot lately.”
You shot him a look. “I work there.”
“Wait,” Kim Taehyung leaned forward from where he was sprawled across the couch, interest immediately piqued. “I’m out of the loop. What’s happening?”
“Nothing,” you said quickly, already moving down the line to hug Jungkook and then Seokjin, who gave you a fond pat on the head.
When you reached Taehyung, he was pouting. You exhaled through your nose, “Yoongi’s working on PSY’s new track,” you explained, “The deadline’s tight. I’m his A&R. That’s it.”
“Okay,” Namjoon said easily, lifting his hands in surrender.
“Fair enough,” Jimin nodded, already turning toward the living room.
“Food’s getting cold,” Taehyung added, pushing himself off the couch like the topic had never existed.
And just like that, they dropped it.
You blinked, momentarily thrown, suspicion flickering across your face as you followed them in. “…That’s it?”
Hoseok slung an arm over your shoulders, steering you toward the spread. “What? We can’t be mature?”
You narrowed your eyes. “Since when?”
“Since I’m starving,” he shot back, already reaching for a container.
The living room quickly filled with the warm chaos you’d missed. Takeout containers from Seokjin’s restaurant were spread across the table, the smell alone enough to make your shoulders finally drop an inch.
“Before we eat,” Seokjin announced, clapping his hands once, “I have news.”
“You’re getting married?” Taehyung gasped.
“Yah—” Seokjin swatted at him. “My restaurant was ranked top ten in the city.”
“Oh my god, hyung,” Jungkook’s eyes went wide. “That’s huge.”
“In Michelin Guide Seoul?” Namjoon asked, already impressed.
Seokjin tried to stay composed and failed.
You leaned forward, grinning. “That’s incredible. Jin, seriously.”
“Of course it is,” he said, preening slightly. “Did you expect anything less?”
“Always humble,” you muttered, earning a kick under the table from Hoseok.
“And you?” Jimin nudged Jungkook. “You said you had something to tell us too.”
“Oh—yeah,” Jungkook scratched the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “I got an internship. For the summer. Abroad.”
“What?” you blinked. “Where?”
“No way—” you sat up straighter. “Kook, that’s amazing.”
Everyone chimed in at once, congratulations overlapping until it became noise.
“You’ll be gone all summer?” you asked, watching the boy nod nervously. “I’m going to miss you,” you added, softer, nudging his shoulder. “But this is an amazing opportunity. I’m so proud of you.”
Namjoon snorted. “Hey! If you meet Halsey, you better get me a video message from her.”
Jungkook laughed. “That’s your priority?”
“And you?” You turned to Jimin. “Mr. Hot Shot Idol.”
Jimin groaned. “Tour prep. I’m tired already.”
“Your fault for being famous,” Hoseok said cheerfully.
“As my main producer it also your fault too,” Jimin shot back.
For a moment, the laughter around you softened into something warmer. You glanced between them all—Hoseok mid-retort, Namjoon already shaking his head, Taehyung leaning back like he was watching a show, Jungkook grinning into his drink—and felt something in your chest loosen.
No matter how chaotic work got, no matter how much your thoughts tangled themselves up lately, you had this circle—steady, loud, familiar in the best way. You didn’t say it out loud, but the gratitude sat quietly beneath your ribs, glowing.
You were still smiling when it slipped out.
“I actually have news too… I submitted adoption papers for Sori.”
“WHAT?” Hoseok practically launched himself across the table. “YOU’RE KEEPING HER?”
“Yeah,” you laughed, a little overwhelmed. “I think so.”
“That’s it,” he pointed at you. “I’m going to be her favorite best friend.”
You snorted. “You’ve got tough competition.”
The words left your mouth before your brain caught up.
“What do you mean competition?” he pouted.
“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, reaching for your drink.
“No, come on, explain,” Namjoon leaned forward.
“You can’t leave us hanging,” Taehyung added, delighted.
You shook your head. “Sori’s absolutely obsessed with a cat we met at the park I walk her at.”
“Her name’s Tang,” you said, already regretting everything. “Her owner walks her at the park sometimes, and Sori likes her, so—”
“A cat being walked? What type of cat owner is this guy?” Jungkook pressed.
“Um, actually—it’s Yoongi.”
The reaction was immediate.
“What—” Hoseok fell back dramatically.
“Oh my god?!” Jimin pointed.
Namjoon shook his head, smiling. “Of course it’s Yoongi.”
“We just—” you said quickly, heat creeping up your neck. “We walk our pets together, sometimes—”
“How often is ‘sometimes’?” Seokjin asked, joining in on the apparent interrogation that had begun.
You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. “You guys are overreacting. We’re just friends.”
There was a brief pause, the kind that didn’t interrupt the flow of the room so much as subtly redirect it. Namjoon hummed in acknowledgment, not disagreeing, not agreeing either, just letting the statement sit. Jimin nodded along a little too easily, and Taehyung reached for another bite of food with an expression that was suspiciously neutral.
Jungkook shrugged, but the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. Even Hoseok, leaning back comfortably, didn’t jump in to argue. They didn’t need to. The air itself felt like it was quietly calling your bluff.
You frowned, lowering your hands slightly. “…You guys are making me really nervous right now.”
“We don’t want you to feel nervous,” Namjoon said, pulling you in with an arm around your shoulders.
Another pause followed, softer this time, like the conversation was circling something without quite landing on it. Then Jungkook spoke again, more casually. “I have a question: isn’t he the guy people say is kind of hard to work with?”
“He is, but—” you said immediately, the response sharp enough to cut through the room. “He’s not like that.”
That did it. Now they were all looking at you properly, and you didn’t even hesitate as you continued, your tone firm, almost defensive without you meaning it to be.
“He can be a bit blunt sometimes. He just doesn’t like to waste time, and yeah, I guess that can come off as intimidating if you don’t know him, but he’s not rude or anything. He’s actually really respectful. And nice.” You slowed slightly toward the end, your certainty softening into something more thoughtful.
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full in a way that made you suddenly aware of how much you had just said. You shifted slightly, your confidence faltering under the weight of their attention.
Namjoon tilted his head, watching you carefully. “Sounds like you’ve gotten to know him pretty well.”
Your stomach flipped. “Again, we work together,” you replied, but it didn’t land the way you wanted it to.
Jimin hummed again, softer now, like he was piecing something together, while Taehyung added lightly, “And how did the park happen?”
“We bumped into each other there months ago,” you explained. “Sori fell pretty much head over heels for Tang the moment she saw her.” The thought made you let out a small huffed laugh. “We’ve been meeting up after work a few times a week ever since.”
Hoseok leaned forward slightly then, his tone gentler, less teasing and more deliberate. “Do you like spending time with him?”
“I mean… yeah.” The answer came out before you could stop it, and you froze immediately after, blinking as if you’d just heard yourself for the first time. You tried to recover, your voice quieter now. “He’s easy to be around.”
“Easy how?” Namjoon asked, not pushing, just guiding.
You hesitated, searching for something that made sense, something that didn’t feel like stepping into something bigger than you were ready for.
“…I don’t have to think too much,” you admitted. “It’s just… comfortable.” Your fingers shifted in your lap, restless now, your thoughts no longer lining up neatly. You added, almost absentmindedly, “And he makes me laugh.”
“That is adorable,” Taehyung said, smiling into his drink.
You heard Jimin hiss and lightly smack his arm. Your eyes stayed fixed on your fingers twisting together in your lap, but you couldn’t help the small, subconscious smile that graced your lips at Taehyung’s comment.
You didn’t argue, but your mind had already betrayed you, pulling up moments you hadn’t consciously invited. His dry comments catching you off guard. The way his mouth would tilt just slightly when you said something he found funny. The way he watched you sometimes, not intense, not overwhelming, just… present. The way you’d started to look for that presence without even realizing it.
Hoseok’s voice came again, softer now, almost careful. “Do you look forward to seeing him?”
Your chest tightened, and this time there was no immediate denial waiting to jump out. Just a quiet, reluctant truth that settled before you could push it away.
The word barely left your lips, but it was enough. Something shifted, not in the room, but in you. You stared down at your hands, but now it felt different, like everything was rearranging itself whether you wanted it to or not.
Coworkers. Friends. Walks you didn’t skip, even when you were exhausted. His studio becoming somewhere you lingered longer than necessary. The way your day felt lighter just knowing you’d see him.
It slipped out softly, almost startled, like you hadn’t meant to say it at all. No one interrupted. No one rushed to fill the space. They just let you sit in it, and somehow that quiet made it impossible to ignore.
You exhaled slowly, shaking your head like you could undo it, but the realization had already settled, clear and steady beneath everything else.
The words felt heavier than you expected, more real now that they were out in the open, and almost immediately, panic followed close behind. You dropped your head back with a groan. “Oh my god, this is bad.”
“Why is it bad?” Jungkook asked, genuinely curious.
“Because we work together,” you said quickly, sitting up again, your thoughts racing now. “This could ruin everything. Our dynamic, the sessions, the—” you gestured vaguely, “—the park. Our walks, our… whatever this is. It’s good right now. It’s easy. What if I make it weird?”
“You won’t,” Jimin said simply.
“You don’t know that,” you shot back, but there was less conviction behind it now.
Hoseok leaned forward again, steady and grounding. “He likes having you around. That much is obvious.”
Your heart stuttered. “…You also don’t know that. What if he’s just tolerating me because we work together?”
Namjoon smiled faintly. “Trust me, I don’t think that’s the case.”
“And you won’t ruin anything if you don’t let yourself ruin anything,” Seokjin added, more serious now. “Don’t worry so much.”
You deadpanned at Seokjin. “I have no idea what you mean. Me and worrying?”
The others let out light chuckles. Seokjin gave you a really? look, which only made your lips twitch into a small smile.
You let your head fall back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as your thoughts continued to spiral, faster now, louder, but underneath it all, something had settled into place. Clear. Quiet. Unavoidable.
You were loitering. At least, that’s what anyone passing by in the hallway would have thought. You bit your lower lip, glancing at the door to Yoongi’s studio, fingers hovering uncertainly near the handle. You had just gotten word that PSY loved how the track was sounding so far, and you wanted to tell Yoongi. Maybe help him relax, even just a little.
What you didn’t realise was that Yoongi wasn’t in his studio.
He was walking down the hall toward you.
His brows furrowed slightly when he spotted you lingering outside his door, your hand hovering like you couldn’t quite commit. He slowed, watching you for a second, before stepping closer.
“Shit!” You flinched, jumping back—straight into him. Your back bumped lightly against his chest, the sudden contact sending your thoughts scattering.
You spun around immediately, pulling your limbs in close, like you were trying to fold yourself smaller.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You shook your head quickly. “No, no. I—I was just coming to find you. I have news.”
Yoongi tilted his head, taking a small step closer. Your breath hitched as his hand reached past you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him at your side. He was so near you could catch his cologne, something soft and grounding—vanilla threaded with pine.
You blinked up at him, subconsciously holding your breath as you nodded. You took a small step back into the doorway before turning and slipping inside. Yoongi followed, closing the door quietly behind him.
You retreated to your usual spot on the couch. Normally, you would sink into it, letting out a quiet breath, like everything outside this room simply… didn’t exist. But today, your body stayed slightly tense, shoulders held tighter than usual.
Yoongi didn’t take his usual place at the swivel chair.
Instead, he sat down beside you.
“So… what’s up?” he asked, pulling your attention from your hands back to him.
“Oh—um…” You straightened slightly. “PSY’s management told me he really loves what you’ve done with the track so far.”
“Really?” Yoongi said, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “I still wasn’t sure about it when I sent it in.” He dropped his face into his hands, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Thank god he likes it.”
You watched him, catching that genuine glint of relief, of quiet happiness. You’d seen how hard he’d been pushing himself for this track—late nights, early mornings, barely stopping long enough to breathe.
Your chest tightened, something soft and fond curling there.
A smile found its way onto your lips.
“You should trust yourself more, Yoongi,” you said gently, and he looked up at you, your eyes meeting. “And sleep is very important too.”
His lips curved, slow and real, breaking into that soft, gummy smile that always seemed to catch you off guard. He looked away, nodding once. “Yeah, I owe you for that. You were right. I just needed to rest and everything came together.”
“Don’t act surprised, I’m always right,” you teased.
A quiet, breathy laugh slipped out of him, and it did something strange to you—like it travelled straight through your chest and settled somewhere deeper. Some of the tension in your shoulders eased without you even realising.
“I think we deserve to celebrate then.”
You frowned slightly. “Celebrate?”
Yoongi nodded, glancing back at you. “This is good news and, like I said, I owe you.”
“No, no. Yoongi, you don’t owe me anything. I was just—”
He let out a low groan, cutting you off. “Will you just let me do a nice thing for you?”
You pressed your lips together, looking down, a little flustered now, before giving in with a small nod.
“Good. Friday, after work. Glasshouse.”
You blinked. “Glasshouse? That place is expensive.”
“Y/n, let me do something nice.”
“That place is too nice,” you argued weakly.
Yoongi had already pushed himself off the couch, moving back to his desk. He dropped into his chair, grabbing his headphones.
“I’m going to get back to work now.”
“Yoon—” You stopped yourself as he slipped the headphones over his ears, turning away, already elsewhere.
Silence settled over the room, broken only by the faint thrum of bass leaking from his headphones.
Your eyes stayed fixed on the back of his chair, your mind spinning faster than you could keep up with.
Friday? Glasshouse? Nice?
“Ladies and gentlemen, after years, Ms. Y/n has a date with a human man!”
“Who are you talking to?” You waddled out of your bathroom in yet another dress, the fourth one you’d tried on. Your eyes landed on Yuri. She was standing on your bed with the brightest grin on her face, Sori perched at the edge beside her, tail wagging like she was part of the audience. “And this is not a date.”
Yuri frowned. “You’ve been saying that for two days, but here you are putting in a little too much effort for a ‘not-date’.”
You turned away, your expression tightening slightly as you faced the full-length mirror. The dress suddenly felt wrong. Too much. Not enough. You couldn’t even tell anymore.
You didn’t respond, because Yuri was right.
Your mind had been ping-ponging nonstop since Yoongi asked. Every possible angle, every possible implication. This couldn’t be a date. It was just a celebration. A thank you. A nice thing, like he said.
He never called it a date.
“I don’t think a dress is the way to go.” You turned back to Yuri. She studied you for a second, then nodded slowly.
“Yeah, that’s not a great dress…”
“I say that with only love for you in my heart, babe.” You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. Yuri hopped off the bed in one quick motion and made a beeline for your closet. “How about… this!”
She pulled out a white mini skirt you hadn’t worn since college, holding it up like she’d just discovered treasure. “You always looked so hot in this.”
“Yuri!” you groaned, already feeling your face warm.
“Please! Come on.” She pouted, clasping her hands together dramatically. “Fine, it’s not a date. But just in case, I want to make sure you make Min Yoongi forget every other girl he’s ever seen in his life.”
Your head snapped slightly to the side, heat blooming across your neck and cheeks at the thought. The image came uninvited. Yoongi looking at you, really looking—
You shut it down immediately.
You didn’t say a word. You just reached out and snatched the skirt from her hands, which earned you an excited squeal that echoed off your walls.
Turning back to your closet, your fingers brushed past hangers until they stilled.
A red camisole you forgot you had.
Deep, slightly sheer, soft in a way that felt… dangerous.
You hesitated for half a second, then pulled it out anyway.
Behind you, Yuri clapped. “Go try it on!”
You exhaled slowly, like you were bracing yourself for something bigger than just an outfit, and disappeared back into the bathroom. When you stepped out again, the room felt quieter for a beat.
Yuri’s eyes lifted from her phone. Her hand, mid-pet over Sori’s head, stilled completely. Her jaw dropped.
You shifted your weight slightly, suddenly very aware of your own body, of the way the fabric sat against your skin, of how different this felt from anything you usually wore. “How does it look…?”
“You’re making me question getting married to Daniel… and my sexuality.”
You let out a mortified sound, immediately hiding your face in your hands, but you were smiling despite yourself. Warmth spread through your chest, soft and familiar. Your brain quietly added another reason to the ever-growing list of why you were so grateful to have Yuri in your life.
And underneath that, a quieter thought.
What is he going to think?
Your stomach dipped again.
“Alright, now sit down.” Yuri slid off the bed, already moving, already in charge. She patted the seat in front of your vanity. “Let me do your hair.”
You dropped your hands from your face, exhaling softly as you moved toward her, catching your reflection one more time in the mirror.
“I can’t believe my best friend is dropping me off at a date—”
“Aha!” Yuri exclaimed, shooting you a victorious look. “So you admit this is a date.”
“No. That was an—” You cut yourself off with a frustrated exhale, giving up halfway through the argument. Because, honestly, the closer you got to Glasshouse, the harder it was to ignore the very loud, very inconvenient voice in your head insisting that this was, in fact, a date.
Which was not helping your nerves.
“Whatever,” you muttered, crossing your arms slightly. “Still can’t believe you convinced me into this.”
Yuri shrugged, completely unbothered. “It’s on my way home.”
“How am I supposed to get home?”
A slow, knowing smirk spread across her lips, her eyes flicking toward you for just a second before returning to the road. “Maybe ask Yoongi to take you.”
“You’re evil.” You pointed at her, scandalised.
She gasped softly, placing a hand over her chest in mock offense. “No, hun. I’m a mastermind.” Then she winked, easing the car to a smooth stop in front of the entrance. “Okay, now get out and go get your man!”
“Not my man,” you stressed, already reaching for the door.
The night air hit you as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, cool against your skin. The door shut behind you with a soft thud, and Yuri leaned across the driver’s seat just enough to give you an exaggerated thumbs up before pulling away into the stream of traffic.
You stood there for a second, then turned.
The Glasshouse glowed in front of you, its name lit up in soft, elegant lettering. The kind of place that didn’t scream for attention but still held it effortlessly. Your stomach twisted.
Relax. This is just two friends celebrating a job well done.
You pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The atmosphere wrapped around you immediately, dim lighting spilling from warm-toned lamps scattered across the space, casting everything in a soft golden haze. Low music hummed beneath the layered chatter of conversations. To one side, booths held groups of friends leaning into each other, laughter bubbling up between bites of food. The center of the room was dotted with small tables, candles flickering lazily. To your left, the bar stretched out, polished and glowing under hanging lights.
Yoongi sat at the bar, slightly turned toward a painting mounted on the wall, like he’d been quietly studying it to pass the time. One arm rested against the counter, fingers loosely curled around a glass of amber liquid, the ice inside catching the light.
He hadn’t noticed you yet.
So you let yourself look.
His hair fell loosely around his face, slightly messy in a way that made it obvious he’d been running his fingers through it. Dark jeans, a simple grey t-shirt, and a black leather jacket thrown over it like an afterthought. Effortless. Unfair.
And suddenly, you felt very aware of yourself.
Of the way the fabric of your top sat against your skin.
Of how dressed up you were.
Relax, Y/n. This is just two friends. Just… friends.
You forced your feet to move. The soft, rhythmic click of your heels against the wooden floor cut through the ambient noise just enough to draw his attention.
His eyes landed on you and he stilled.
It was subtle, but you saw it. The way his gaze sharpened, the way his lips parted just slightly before he caught himself.
You offered a small smile, lifting your hand in a tiny wave. “Hi. Already started celebrating without me?”
Yoongi’s expression shifted immediately, something warmer settling in. “No, no. I just thought I’d get something while I waited.”
“I didn’t keep you waiting too long, I hope.” You nibbled lightly on your bottom lip, the habit slipping out before you could stop it.
There was the briefest pause before he answered, quieter this time. “You didn’t.” His head tilted toward the bartender. “You want something?”
You nodded, sliding into the seat beside him. As you reached into your purse, his hand moved across the space between you, stopping you mid-motion.
“It’s on me. Don’t worry about it.”
You frowned, ready to argue, but he beat you to it.
The bartender approached, and you placed your order. “A vodka cranberry, please.”
“Vodka cranberry?” Yoongi echoed beside you.
You turned to him, brow lifting. “What’s wrong with a vodka cranberry?”
He shook his head lightly. “Nothing. Just feels like a bit of a boring drink.”
You scoffed, offended in the most dramatic way possible. “Boring? And you are what? Some alcohol connoisseur?”
“Well, what’s that then?” You pointed at the glass in front of him.
“Scotch.” His eyes flicked to it, then back to you. “Have you ever had it?”
That seemed to amuse him. He nudged the glass toward you. “Take a sip?”
“What? That’s your drink.”
“And? You’re not going to down the whole thing, right?” He pushed it a little closer. “Just try it.”
You hesitated for a second, then gave in, fingers wrapping around the glass. You could feel his gaze on you, steady, attentive, as you lifted it to your lips and took a cautious sip.
Your face twisted, nose scrunching as the taste hit, sharp and unfamiliar. You shook your head quickly, handing it back as Yoongi let out a quiet laugh.
“Not at all.” You let out a small breath, still recovering. “I guess I just don’t like a lot of alcohol. I don’t even like beer.”
“You don’t like beer?” Yoongi looked genuinely wounded.
That did it. You both laughed.
The tension that had been coiled tightly in your chest since the car ride loosened, just a little.
Your drink arrived, and the second the straw touched your lips, you did a small, involuntary shoulder shimmy of satisfaction. Yoongi caught it instantly, the corner of his mouth lifting.
For a moment, he let himself look.
He’d never seen you like this before. At work, you were all structure and precision, everything in place. At the park, you were soft and relaxed, comfortable in a way that felt natural.
But this was something else entirely.
The delicate fabric of your top, the way it moved with you, the way it revealed just enough to make it impossible not to notice. And then the skirt—clean, simple, sitting low on your waist, the short hemline drawing attention to your legs in a way that felt almost unfair paired with something so soft above. It balanced everything out, sharpened the look, made it impossible for his eyes not to linger a second longer than they should.
“You look beautiful, by the way.”
His voice was quiet. Almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Your breath caught, your eyes lifting to meet his. He was already looking at you, completely unguarded.
Heat spread up your neck, across your cheeks.
“Thank you,” you managed, softer than you intended.
Before either of you could say more, a waiter appeared at Yoongi’s side. “Your table is ready, sir.”
Your head snapped toward him. “Table?”
Yoongi stood, smooth and unhurried. “Of course,” he said, then glanced down at you. “You didn’t think we came here just for drinks, did you?”
Your brain short-circuited for half a second.
You scrambled to grab your purse and drink, quickly following as he trailed behind the waiter. The further you walked into the restaurant, the quieter it seemed to get, the lighting softer, more intimate.
A table for two, tucked neatly into a more secluded corner. Crisp white tablecloth. A single candle flickering gently at the center.
The waiter pulled out your chair, and you sat down slowly, still taking it in as he did the same for Yoongi before slipping away.
You shifted in your seat, your fingers brushing lightly over the edge of the table as your thoughts tangled again. The question had been sitting at the back of your mind since you walked in, and now it pushed forward.
“Yoongi…” you started. “Can I ask, how did you manage all of this?”
He looked up. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… this place is pretty exclusive. It’s always booked. How’d you get a reservation on such short notice?”
There was a flicker of hesitation in his expression, subtle but there. “I know the owner.”
Your brows lifted. “Really? How?”
Then, quieter, “Do you know about the autism treatment center at Severance Hospital?”
“They have a music-based therapy program that helps kids with emotional and social development. I’ve been volunteering there for a while… and one of the kids I work with is the owner’s son.”
For a moment, all you could do was look at him.
The word came out softer than you expected.
“Yoongi, that’s amazing.”
“No, Yoongi. It’s amazing.” Your smile this time was steady, sincere. “You’re… you’re a really amazing person.”
Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t awkward. Just full.
His gaze held yours for a beat longer before he spoke again.
“You are pretty amazing for what you do too. Fostering is really important.”
You felt the warmth creep back into your cheeks. “It’s nothing like what you’re doing.”
“Don’t say that.” His tone sharpened just slightly, not harsh, but certain. His eyes didn’t leave yours. “There are so many animals out there and not enough shelters. We both know what happens because of that. You’re giving them a chance at a home. At a life.” A small pause. “I’d say that’s pretty amazing.”
You let the moment sit, then added, a little more softly, “Actually, I wanted to tell you. Sori’s adoption just got finalized today. She’s officially mine.”
His expression shifted instantly, something warm and pleased settling in.
“Oh, Tang is going to be thrilled with that news.”
You laughed, the sound lighter now. “I think Tang secretly likes Sori, actually.”
“I do too.” Yoongi nodded. “But she likes to pretend she’s better than everyone.
The night had settled into something quieter by the time you both stepped out of Glasshouse, the city humming softly around you instead of roaring. The cool air brushed against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you’d been sitting in all evening.
You turned to him first, fingers curling slightly around your purse strap. “I had a really good time tonight,” you said, your voice softer now, stripped of the earlier teasing. “Thank you.”
Yoongi’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer than necessary, like he was still somewhere inside the evening. “Yeah,” he nodded, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Me too.”
You glanced around, instinctively reaching for your phone. “I should probably—”
“Do you have a ride?” he asked, already watching you.
You blinked, then nodded lightly. “I was just going to order an Uber.”
There was a beat. Then, simply, “Let me take you home.”
Your eyes flicked back to his. “You don’t have to do that, Yoongi. You already—” you gestured vaguely, “—paid for everything.”
“I know.” His tone didn’t waver, calm but firm. “I’d just feel better knowing you got home safely.”
Something in the way he said it made it hard to argue.
“…Okay,” you said after a second, a small smile tugging at your lips.
The walk to his car was short, but the night air had a bite to it. You didn’t realize you’d shivered until—
You looked up just as Yoongi slipped his leather jacket off, stepping closer. The movement was easy, practiced, but your breath caught anyway as he draped it over your shoulders, his hands brushing lightly against your arms as he adjusted it.
You pulled the jacket a little closer around yourself, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your entire system had just rebooted.
He opened the passenger door for you, one hand resting against the top of it as he glanced at you.
You paused, raising a brow. “Who said chivalry was dead?”
His lips twitched. “Get in the car.”
You huffed out a small laugh and slid into the seat.
The drive was easy. Quieter than dinner, but not awkward. Yoongi handed control of the aux over without hesitation. “Play something.”
You blinked at him. “I don’t mind listening to whatever you—”
“I want to know what you listen to.”
There it was again. That simple, steady way he said things. That finality.
So you plugged your phone in.
After a second of scrolling, you picked something—*Japanese Denim* by Daniel Caesar. Smooth, a little dreamy, the kind of song that filled space without demanding it.
Yoongi didn’t say anything at first.
“This fits you,” he said eventually.
You glanced at him. “What does that mean?”
He shrugged slightly, eyes still on the road. “It’s calm. But there’s a lot going on underneath.”
“Are you psychoanalysing me through my music taste?”
Yoongi’s lips twitched, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly as he glanced at you. “Maybe.”
You huffed, shaking your head as you looked back down at your phone, trying to ignore the way your chest had done a tiny, unnecessary flip. “You’re so annoying.”
“Mm,” he hummed, not even a little apologetic. Then added, almost absentmindedly. “You’re cute when you get flustered,”
Your head snapped back toward him. “I’m not flustered.”
“You are,” he said, calm as ever.
“I’m not,” you insisted, even as your voice betrayed you just slightly.
That earned you a quiet, satisfied hum, like he’d proven a point he hadn’t even needed to argue. You looked away again, this time with a small, helpless smile tugging at your lips.
When the car pulled up outside your building, neither of you moved right away.
Then Yoongi was already stepping out, walking around to your side before you could even reach for the handle. He opened the door, offering his hand without thinking.
The walk to your building was slow, neither of you rushing it, like the night wasn’t quite ready to end yet.
You stopped just before the entrance and turned to him.
“Thank you,” you said again, quieter this time. “For tonight.”
His gaze held yours. “You already said that.”
“I know,” you smiled faintly. “I just wanted to say it again.”
A small breath passed between you, neither of you moved. The air felt thinner somehow, like something was about to tip.
You didn’t even realise you were doing it at first—your teeth catching your bottom lip, worrying it lightly as your nerves crept back in, as everything about this moment started to feel a little too real.
His gaze dropped to your lips.
“…You should stop doing that,” he said, voice low, quieter than before.
You blinked, thrown. “What?”
His eyes flicked back up to yours, but only briefly, like it took effort. “Biting your lip.”
Your heart skipped, confusion flickering across your face.
“Because it makes me want to kiss you.”
Something in your chest flipped, steadying instead of spiraling this time. You swallowed, but you didn’t look away.
“You want to kiss me?” you asked, quieter, but braver now.
His lips parted slightly as he looked at you, something unguarded settling into his expression.
It hit you like a spark straight to your core, warming everything it touched. And for once, you didn’t let your thoughts take over.
Yoongi stilled, eyes fixed on you, watching carefully, like he was giving you all the space in the world to decide the outcome of the evening.
“Then why don’t you?” you murmured.
His gaze dipped again, then back up, slower this time.
“Are you giving me permission to?”
His hands came up, slow, deliberate, settling at your waist. Warm. Firm. Grounding.
Your breath caught, your hands hovering for a second before you nodded.
You leaned in too, meeting him halfway like your body had already decided before your brain could catch up.
The kiss wasn’t hesitant. The second Yoongi leaned in, it was sure. Certain.
Like the moment you nodded, something in him settled.
His hand tightened slightly against your waist as his lips met yours, firm and warm and devastatingly soft all at once. The breath left your lungs immediately, your fingers instinctively gripping the front of his shirt as your eyes fluttered shut.
He kissed you like he’d been thinking about it for a while.
Like he already knew exactly how he wanted to do it.
Deep enough to make your knees feel weak.
A quiet sound caught in your throat when he pulled you closer, the warmth of his body pressing against yours through the leather jacket still draped around your shoulders. His thumb moved slightly against your waist, grounding and gentle even as the kiss deepened, his mouth moving against yours with a confidence that made your head spin.
And god, he kissed beautifully.
Like he was paying attention to every tiny reaction you gave him.
Your hands slid upward, fingers curling against his shoulders before wrapping loosely around the back of his neck, instinctively drawing him closer. Yoongi responded immediately, his grip on your waist tightening just enough to make heat rush through your entire body.
The world around you blurred into nothing. No city noise. No passing cars.
The faint taste of scotch still lingering on his lips. The scent of vanilla and pine surrounding you. The steady warmth of his hands holding you like he didn’t want you going anywhere.
Your lips moved together like they’d been building toward this for months without either of you fully realizing it.
Like every lingering glance and quiet walk and almost-flirting moment had led here.
When you finally pulled apart, it wasn’t because either of you wanted to.
It was because breathing had suddenly become important again.
Your foreheads nearly brushed as you both stayed there for a second, close enough to feel each other’s breath, equally wrecked.
A soft, disbelieving laugh escaped you first.
Yoongi huffed out one right after, quieter, like he couldn’t quite believe it either.
And somehow that made everything feel even more real.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he admitted, voice low.
You bit your lip, heat rising all over again. “…I’ve thought about it once or twice too.”
He raised a brow slightly. “Only once or twice?”
You let out a soft scoff, lightly smacking his chest. “Shut up.”
He laughed—soft, real, warm. And then you were just… standing there again.
Looking at each other like something had shifted into place.
Eventually, you stepped back, reluctantly untangling yourself from him.
He took a few steps back, then turned toward his car.
You watched him go. Then you remembered.
He turned, eyebrows lifting.
You pointed at yourself—more specifically, at the jacket still wrapped around you.
A slow smile spread across his face.
“Give it back to me on Monday.”
And then—because of course—He winked.
You just shook your head, smiling to yourself as you turned and finally walked into your building.
Your heart didn’t settle the entire way up.
part 3 in the works :) will probably take longer to come out because i’m a student in exam szn
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