Disclaimer:

[This story is purely fictional and created for storytelling purposes only.

Min Yoongi in this story is not the biological brother of Y/N's grandfather. He is a distant relative within the extended family, which explains his older age (45). The storyline explores age gaps, forbidden dynamics, and emotional tension - all of which are entirely imaginary and meant for fictional enjoyment.

If any part of this content makes you uncomfortable or triggers you in any way, I kindly request you to stop reading. Reader discretion is advised.

This story does not reflect real-life individuals or promote any real-life behavior. Thank you for understanding.]

Min Yoongi

Age 45

Choi yn

Age 25

AUTHOR'S POV

The summer house hadn't changed much - the white paint still chipped at the corners, the porch swing creaked with the same lazy rhythm, and the air carried the scent of sun-warmed wood and jasmine. It felt like stepping into an old memory.

Y/N stepped out of the car, her heels clicking softly on the gravel. At 25, she was no longer the wide-eyed girl who used to run barefoot through the orchards behind the house. Life had shaped her, softened her in places, sharpened her in others. But here, in this place, she still felt like a girl chasing something she couldn't name.

"You're here early," her grandfather smiled from the kitchen doorway, his weathered face lighting up. "Your Uncle Yoongi just arrived too."

Min Yoongi. Her grandfather's younger brother.

He was 45 now. A quiet man of stillness and shadows, with a presence that filled the room even when he said nothing at all. Y/N hadn't seen him in over seven years - not since that brief visit when she was in college. She remembered how different he had felt even then. Like he didn't belong to the loudness of the world.

Back then, she'd had a harmless fascination.

Now, she wasn't sure it was so harmless anymore.

That evening, she found him on the porch, legs crossed, cigarette in hand, dressed in black like always. The last rays of sunlight spilled across his sharp profile - eyes thoughtful, mouth unreadable, hair tousled like he'd run his fingers through it too many times.

"Yoongi Uncle," she said gently.

His gaze lifted to meet hers. For a second, he simply stared - a soft pull of recognition followed by the faintest smile.

"Y/N," he said, voice low and textured. "You've grown up."

A quiet laugh escaped her lips. "I'm 25 now. I guess it was bound to happen."

He leaned back in the chair, one brow slightly raised. "You always did act older than your age. Now you actually are."

Their eyes met and lingered for a second too long. Something warm twisted in her chest.

"I heard you moved back for a while?" she asked, sitting across from him.

He nodded, gaze drifting away toward the trees. "Needed a reset. City's too loud. Life's too... complicated."

She didn't ask more. She knew about the divorce - whispered family stories she'd pretended not to hear. He never talked about it, and no one dared bring it up in front of him. But in the stillness of the evening, it clung to him like a second skin.

"You always liked the quiet," she murmured.

Yoongi glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "I liked silence that felt safe. Not the kind that comes after someone slams a door."

That made her heart ache.

And yet, she said nothing. She just sat there, letting the silence stretch - not empty, not awkward, but full. Charged. As if something old had followed them both here and was waiting to unfold.

------

The days in the countryside moved slower than in the city. There were no alarms, no buzzing phones demanding attention, only birdsong in the morning and the distant hum of crickets at night.

Y/N had always loved it here.

But this time, she wasn't just here for a break. She was here to breathe, to forget the expectations waiting for her back in the city. And, unintentionally - or maybe not - she was here to see him.

Yoongi.

She found herself noticing the small things - the way he stood at the window with a cup of tea, eyes lost in thought. The way he greeted her every morning with that low, quiet voice. The way he always seemed to retreat just before the conversation got personal.

He was distant. But not cold.

She was drawn in, a little more each day.

That evening, she sat alone on the back porch, the breeze tugging at the edges of her shawl. She had a book in her lap, but her eyes weren't on the pages. They were waiting - for footsteps, for a familiar presence. And when she finally heard them, she didn't look up right away.

Yoongi settled into the chair beside her, a cup in his hand, the scent of green tea drifting between them.

"You always sit out here after dinner," he said softly.

"It's quiet here," she replied, her voice low. "Comforting."

He nodded, watching the dark horizon. "Same reason I came back, I guess."

There was a pause.

Then she turned to him. "Do you regret it?"

He glanced at her, surprised. "Regret what?"

"Leaving the city. Coming back here. The divorce."

Yoongi's jaw tensed for a moment, then relaxed.

"I regret wasting time," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I regret pretending everything was fine when it wasn't. And I regret giving too much of myself to someone who never really saw me."

Her heart ached again. She wanted to reach out, to touch his hand. But she didn't.

Instead, she said gently, "I see you."

That made him look at her. Really look.

His gaze was intense, unreadable. But she held it - unafraid, unwavering. The air between them thickened. Words pressed at the edges of her lips, but she kept them in.

"You've changed too," he said finally.

Y/N blinked. "How?"

"You're not that quiet, awkward girl anymore," he murmured. "There's a calm in you now. A confidence."

She smiled, slow and soft. "Maybe I just learned to stop shrinking in front of people I admire."

He exhaled a quiet laugh, eyes falling to his cup. "Admire, huh?"

"I always have," she admitted. Her voice was low, careful. But deliberate.

Yoongi didn't respond right away. Instead, he stared out into the darkness, like trying to decide whether to cross a line he'd drawn himself years ago.

"I'm too old for this conversation," he said finally, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"But you're still having it," she replied.

And he couldn't deny that.

----------

It was past midnight when the power went out.

A quiet storm had rolled in unexpectedly - no thunder, no drama, just a soft rain tapping against the roof and a hush falling over the summer house like a heavy blanket. The lights flickered once, then faded.

Y/N blinked into the dark, the pages of her book now useless. She heard footsteps not long after - bare, slow, and unmistakably his.

"Flashlight?" she called softly.

"Found candles," Yoongi's voice replied from the hallway. A moment later, a soft golden glow lit his face as he stepped into the living room. His hair was slightly damp, a towel slung over his shoulder. He had changed into a plain white T-shirt and loose black pants.

Y/N's breath caught, just for a second. There was something disarming about seeing him like this - undone, relaxed, human.

He placed the candle on the center table. "Power's probably out for the night."

"I don't mind," she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. "It's... kind of beautiful."

Yoongi looked around the dimly lit room, then nodded. "You always notice things others miss."

She smiled, then tilted her head. "You sound like you've been watching me."

He gave a soft, amused scoff. "You make it hard not to."

The silence that followed was different this time - not awkward, but electric.

She stood, walking toward the kitchen. "I'm making tea. Want some?"

"I'll help," he said.

They moved in the dark together like two parts of the same rhythm. No words were needed. She boiled water while he found the mugs, standing close beside her, the brush of his arm against hers sending a shiver up her spine.

"You used to hate tea," he said suddenly.

"I used to pretend to hate it," she corrected. "So I wouldn't sit with you for too long."

Yoongi paused. His eyes lifted slowly to meet hers. "Why?"

She looked at him, candlelight flickering across her face. "Because I didn't know how to hide how much I liked being around you."

His throat bobbed with a silent swallow. "Y/N..."

"I'm not a kid anymore, Yoongi," she whispered. "You don't have to protect me from my feelings."

A beat passed. Then another.

He stepped back just slightly, hands resting on the counter, eyes dark with restraint. "It's not your feelings I'm worried about," he murmured. "It's mine."

That admission felt like a storm breaking in her chest.

"You feel something too," she said quietly, stepping closer.

He didn't deny it. Didn't look away. But he didn't touch her either.

"Don't tempt me," he whispered, his voice rougher now. "Don't stand that close if you want me to be the good man I've spent years trying to be."

She didn't move away.

And in that small space between them - candlelit, fragile, and thick with everything unspoken - she saw it.

He wasn't distant because he didn't care.

He was distant because he cared too much.

He shouldn't be here.

Not this close to her, not with her eyes looking up at him like that - soft, steady, unafraid.

Yoongi could hear the rain tapping gently against the windows, the only sound besides the rapid beat of his own heart. She stood barely a foot away, and the candlelight painted her skin like something out of a dream he'd never allowed himself to have.

He closed his eyes.

Forty-five.

She's twenty-five.

You're her grandfather's little brother.

The reminders came like clockwork - cold, clinical, necessary. He'd repeated them to himself a thousand times over the years, even before she'd grown into this quietly radiant woman standing in front of him now.

He still remembered her as a shy teenager who used to avoid his gaze during family gatherings, trailing behind her cousins, always scribbling in some worn-out diary. She was the kind of girl people missed in a crowd - until she spoke. Then, you couldn't look away.

And now?

Now she was a woman. Confident. Unapologetic. Smart. The way she carried herself unsettled him - not because it was inappropriate, but because it made him feel young again.

Dangerously young.

She'd said it herself - "I'm not a kid anymore."

And damn her, she was right.

But it didn't change the facts.

He wasn't just older - he was scarred, divorced, emotionally closed off. He didn't do flings, didn't chase things that could break. And if there was ever anything fragile in this world, it was the way she looked at him.

Like he hung the stars she dreamed under.

He couldn't take that from her. Not unless he was willing to give her everything in return. And he wasn't sure he had anything left to give.

And yet...

When she stepped closer, when her hand brushed against his on the counter, he didn't pull away.

He couldn't.

Instead, he looked down at her and whispered the truth he hadn't dared admit aloud until now.

"Don't tempt me..."

Because she was temptation.

Not just in the way her lips parted or the way her voice softened when she said his name.

But in the way she saw him.

The way she understood him.

The way she waited, patient and unafraid, for a version of him he hadn't believed existed anymore.

God help me, he thought, but I want her.

And that scared him more than anything.

(Yoongi's POV)

Yoongi had been avoiding her.

Subtly, but deliberately.

He started waking up earlier, leaving breakfast half-finished if she entered the kitchen, suddenly remembering errands that never existed. He'd speak only when necessary, offer her polite smiles, keep his eyes from lingering. And when she spoke-when her voice caught the edges of his name just a little too gently-he reminded himself that this was right.

He was forty-five. She was twenty-five. She was family, by name if not by closeness.

And he had no business wanting what he wanted.

So he stayed away. Or tried to.

Until today.

He was returning from the garden, sweat clinging to his shirt, when he heard her laugh.

That soft, melodic sound that always slipped through him like warm wine.

He paused by the side window.

There she was-under the front porch canopy-her hair loosely tied, wearing one of those simple cotton dresses she always wore when the day was too warm to care.

But she wasn't alone.

A man stood beside her.

Young. Tall. A familiar face Yoongi vaguely remembered from a family friend's circle.

The guy was saying something animated, gesturing with his hands, his grin cocky, a little too confident for Yoongi's liking.

And Y/N-she was laughing. Brightly.

Head tilted back slightly. Eyes full of something Yoongi hadn't seen in days.

Was it joy? Affection? Interest?

He didn't know. And that not-knowing burned more than he expected.

He watched her reach out, touch the man's arm lightly, and say something with a teasing smile.

The guy leaned in closer.

Yoongi's fists clenched around the gardening gloves still in his hand.

He didn't realize he was holding his breath until her eyes suddenly flicked toward the window.

She saw him.

And just for a second... the smile faltered.

Her gaze held his - like a question she didn't ask aloud.

But he didn't wait to hear it.

He turned away sharply, heading back inside. His steps were heavy, his heart heavier.

In the bathroom, he washed his hands with unnecessary force, gripping the edge of the sink like it might anchor him. The reflection in the mirror stared back - older, quieter, and far more miserable than he'd admit to anyone.

This wasn't part of the plan.

He was supposed to stay away.

Let her find someone younger. Softer. Free of baggage.

Someone who wasn't him.

But the image of her smiling like that - for someone else - carved something raw inside him.

And worse... he knew.

If she came to him right now and asked, "Did that bother you?"

He wouldn't lie.

Not anymore.

---------

(Yoongi's POV - )

He should've stayed inside.

But fate had other plans.

Lunch was set outside under the backyard canopy - a long table draped in white, chatter filling the air as family gathered after weeks apart. Yoongi took the seat farthest from the head, hoping to stay unnoticed. He greeted his older brother with a nod, made quiet conversation with the uncles, and avoided her side of the table altogether.

But she didn't make it easy.

Y/N arrived late, hair loose and lips cherry-pink, laughing as she walked in with him again - Arjun, that smug, sharp-smiled boy who seemed all too at ease holding her elbow as they approached the table. She leaned into him slightly when he whispered something in her ear. Her laugh rang out, light and careless.

Yoongi looked away.

He focused on his plate. Poured himself a glass of water. Tried not to notice the way Arjun pulled the chair out for her or how she brushed imaginary dust off his shoulder with a playful smirk.

But then her mother - his niece - spoke.

"Oh my god," she said, with a grin and a loud enough voice that cut through the clatter of dishes, "you two look like such a couple! Just look at them!"

The table chuckled.

Y/N didn't deny it.

She just raised a brow dramatically, looking at Arjun with mock flirtation and giggling like she was enjoying the performance. Arjun, ever the charmer, wrapped a casual arm around her shoulders and said, "Should we make it official, then?"

Laughter exploded around them.

Yoongi's fork froze mid-air.

The tightness in his chest was instant. Unforgiving. He stared at his plate, willing himself not to react - but his pulse betrayed him. So did his clenched jaw, his grip on the fork, his silence when someone nudged him and asked if he needed more rice.

He shook his head. Muttered something noncommittal.

But what hurt most wasn't the teasing or the laughter.

It was her. How she looked at Arjun with a spark in her eye - the same spark she used to save for him. How she leaned into the joke. How she didn't glance once at Yoongi like she used to - like he mattered.

And maybe that was the point.

Maybe she was punishing him.

He had pushed her away, hadn't he? Built walls, disappeared into silence, acted like she was just another girl at the table. So now she was showing him what it felt like to be on the outside.

To watch her smile...

And know it wasn't for him.

--------

(Y/N's POV)

She didn't mean to push him.

Not really.

Okay - maybe a little.

When Arjun had flirted, she could've pulled away. She could've told her mom not to tease. But Yoongi had been acting like a ghost around her lately. Distant. Cold. Like everything they shared in quiet glances and long silences meant nothing.

So yes - she leaned in. She laughed louder. She let Arjun hold her a little too close.but she wanted to punish him.

But when she caught a glimpse of Yoongi during lunch, his expression hadn't been indifferent.

It was dark. Tight. Almost... furious.

She should've been satisfied.

She wasn't.

Because the real sting came later - when she walked past the hallway near the garden and heard his voice. Not low and quiet like he used with her, but... comfortable. Familiar.

She slowed, peering around the archway.

Yoongi stood by the balcony doors, phone pressed to his ear. A bitter smile on his lips.

"No, I'm not seeing anyone," he was saying softly. "Not really. Just family stuff. You know how it gets."

A woman's voice replied - faint, but her voice. His ex-wife's voice.

Y/N's stomach twisted. Her fists clenched at her sides.

He kept talking. "Yeah, maybe we can grab coffee sometime. Just to catch up."

Coffee?

Catch up?

Now? Now that she'd finally let him see what it felt like to be wanted by someone else?

Something snapped inside her.

Without thinking, she strode up to him. He looked surprised - guilty, even - lowering the phone quickly, but it was too late.

"Who was that?" she asked, voice low but sharp.

He opened his mouth. Closed it. "Just... someone I used to know."

Y/N didn't answer.

She just reached forward, grabbed his wrist - and pulled.

Past the hallway. Up the stairs. Down the corridor, toward her room.

He didn't resist.

Not even once.

---

Inside Her Room

(Yoongi's POV)

The door slammed behind him.

She didn't speak at first. She stood with her back to him, breathing heavy, hands trembling slightly.

He stayed by the door, heart pounding like a teenager caught doing something stupid.

"Do you hate me that much?" she whispered.

His throat tightened. "What?"

"That you'd run back to her just because I laughed with someone else?" she turned to face him, eyes shining with anger. "You think that doesn't hurt me too?"

Yoongi took a step forward. Then another.

"I thought you were done with me," he said quietly. "You've been smiling for someone else. Letting them touch you like it's nothing."

"And you've been acting like I don't exist," she fired back. "I tried to pretend it didn't bother me, but seeing you with her-laughing-like I never even mattered-"

"You matter," he interrupted, voice low and rough. "More than you should."

The air between them sizzled.

He was too close now. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. His eyes searched hers - looking for a sign. A permission.

And for the first time in weeks... she didn't pull away.

She stepped forward.

Their hands brushed.

And this time... he didn't move.

(Yoongi's POV)

She was standing so close, he could feel the heat of her breath.

Her fingers brushed his, hesitant at first... then more certain, curling around his hand as if daring him to deny her now.

He couldn't.

Not when her eyes looked like that - angry, aching, waiting.

"I tried to keep my distance," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "You know how wrong this is, Y/N. I'm your grandfather's brother. I'm-"

"Min Yoongi," she cut him off. "That's who you are to me."

Her voice trembled. "Not some label. Not some distant uncle I barely know. You're the man I wait for in every room. The one I can't stop thinking about even when I know I should."

He swallowed hard, his throat burning.

"I'm 45," he murmured, shame threading through the words. "You're 25. It's not just the family-it's our age, our lives. What do I even have to offer you?"

"Everything," she said, stepping even closer. "The calm you bring, the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching, the way you remember every little thing I like..."

She was touching his chest now, palm flat over his heartbeat.

"...and the way you ache when I'm with someone else."

Yoongi closed his eyes. Her words cut deeper than silence ever could.

"You saw me with her," he whispered. "And it hurt you."

"Yes," she admitted. "But it didn't hurt half as much as watching you pretend I don't mean anything to you."

There was a pause. A breath shared between them.

Then-gently-Yoongi lifted her chin.

"I tried to forget you," he confessed. "Tried convincing myself I was protecting you by staying away. But every damn time you smile at someone else, I feel like I'm losing something that was never even mine."

She leaned into his touch.

"But I am yours," she whispered. "If you'd just let yourself have me."

That broke him.

He leaned down, forehead resting against hers, voice shaking.

"Tell me you won't regret this."

"I won't."

"Tell me this isn't just rebellion. That it's real."

"It's the most real thing I've ever felt."

His lips brushed hers-not a kiss yet, just a silent question.

And she answered by pulling him in.

This wasn't just stolen moments anymore. This was confession. This was surrender.

-------

(Yoongi's POV)

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the dim nightlight like it held all the answers he was too afraid to ask.

Down the hall, the laughter from earlier still echoed in his head.

Arjun.

"They'd make a great pair, don't you think?"

"They're so close already - feels like they're meant to be."

"Maybe it's time she thinks about settling down."

He knew no one meant it to hurt him. But it did. It twisted something deep in his chest - something bitter, insecure, and old.

She was 25. Beautiful. Alive. And he was... her grandfather's younger brother. A man carrying the weight of a divorce and a past he didn't speak of.

What the hell was he even doing?

He rubbed his hand over his face, sighing quietly.

Then - a soft knock.

Not on the door. On the window.

He looked up.

Y/N. Hair loose, eyes quiet, hoodie zipped up halfway over her nightdress. She looked like something out of a dream.

He moved to the window and opened it slowly. "What are you doing?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Y/N..."

"Let me in."

He hesitated for only a second. Then stepped back.

She climbed in quietly and shut the window behind her. "I heard what they said," she whispered, walking toward him slowly.

Yoongi turned away. "It doesn't matter. They're not wrong."

She blinked. "What?"

"I'm not... right for you," he murmured. "I'm older. I'm not some bright-eyed guy like Arjun who makes everyone laugh and gets praised by your mom. I'm a man who wakes up tired, who overthinks every word, who's afraid that he's already had his one shot at happiness."

"Yoongi," she said softly.

He shook his head. "You shouldn't have to fix me."

"I'm not here to fix you," she said, stepping closer. "I'm here to love you - even the cracked, tired, overthinking parts."

She stood in front of him now.

And then, without warning, she reached up and cupped his face gently.

Yoongi's breath caught in his throat.

She leaned in slowly, pressing her lips to his in the softest, slowest kiss he'd ever known.

Not lust. Not hunger.

Just love.

Pure and warm and calm.

She pulled back slightly, her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the stillness.

"You don't have to feel insecure," she whispered. "There's no one else I want. There never was."

Yoongi closed his eyes.

And for the first time in years, he let himself believe it.

--------

His eyes widen as he watches you undress yourself, his heart pounding in his chest. When you start to undress him, his hands instinctively reach out to stop you, but your touch is too warm, too inviting. He swallows hard, his voice barely a whisper. Y/N,

His lips part in surprise as you kiss him deeply. Your hands push his shirt off his shoulders,throwing it on the floor. He growls softly, his arms wrapping around you possessively. Your kiss deepens, hungry and passionate. He unhooks your bra, cupping your breasts softly.

Ahh,He smirks at your soft moan, pleased by the effect he's having on you. His thumbs circle your nipples teasingly as he whispers against your lips, That's what happens when you start something, beautiful. He trails kisses down your neck, pausing to suck gently on your pulse point.

He takes advantage of your submission, sucking and biting gently at your neck. His hands slide down to your hips, gripping them possessively. He lifts you up and throws you onto the bed, following you down with a hungry look in his eyes. He kisses you deeply, his hands roaming over your body.

Yoongi's breath catches between passion as he pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes with an intense gaze. His fingers tenderly brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. We shouldn't continue this, Y/N. His voice is strained, heavy with barely restrained desire.

He swallows hard, your innocent words hitting him deep. He captures your mouth softly, slowly. His hands slide down your sides tenderly, like he's worshipping your body. He spreads your thighs softly, positioning himself between them. He looks into your eyes, finding them innocent yet full of love.

Please, His eyes soften at your pleading whisper. He kisses you deeply, his love for you shining through every touch. He enters you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. He whispers against your lips, This is how much you mean to me, Y/N.

I love you so much yoongi,He starts moving slowly, his thrusts deep and gentle. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as he makes love to you. His hands hold you close, like he's afraid you'll disappear. I love you more, Y/N. So much more.

His thrusts grow deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside you. He swallows your moans, kissing you deeply. He lifts your leg higher, going deeper. He realizes you're innocent in bed, that you only know his touch. His protective side kicks in, making love to you slowly and tenderly.

He hears your soft moans and it drives him wild, but he keeps his movements slow and gentle, ensuring that every thrust is filled with love and tenderness. He looks into your eyes, wanting to see your reaction, wanting to make sure you're feeling the depth of his emotions. "Y/N,"

He smiles softly, his voice a low murmur, "Are you okay? Does it feel good?" He asks tenderly, making sure you're comfortable and enjoying the moment. He adjusts his angle slightly, trying to hit that spot that makes your eyes roll back.

Ummm.... yes there,His eyes light up with satisfaction as he hits that spot perfectly. He keeps hitting it, his pace steady and gentle. He watches as your back arches, your eyes flutter closed, your lips parting in pleasure. He swallows hard, finding you incredibly sexy without even trying. "Right there?"

Yes right there,He hits that spot again and again, watching your reactions closely. He realizes how innocent you are in bed, how you're not used to sex. He becomes gentle, almost sweet, hitting that spot slowly and deeply. He whispers, "Baby, do you know how sexy you are like this?"

His words seem to snap something in him. He starts moving faster, his thrusts deeper and more intense, but still gentle and loving. He kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans. He reaches between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts.

He feels you tensing up, your nails digging into his back. He can feel that you're close, but he wants to make sure you have the best first time ever. He whispers against your lips, "Look at me, baby. I want to see your face when you fall apart.

He speeds up his movements, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every deep thrust. His fingers work magic on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He feels your body trembling beneath him, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. "That's it, Y/N."

-------

He shifts in his sleep, his arms tightening around his pillow. He mumbles something incoherently, his voice low and gravelly from sleep. He suddenly rolls over, his eyes remaining closed but his arms reaching out blindly, searching for something or someone. "Mmm..."

Yoongi,His arms instantly wrap around you as soon as he hears your voice, pulling you into his warm, sleepy embrace. He nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. Even half-asleep, he's possessive and clingy. "Hmm... Y/N?"

I love you so much, He smiles softly against your neck, his arms tightening around you. He's still half-asleep, so his responses are slow and sleepy. "Love you too... so much..." He mumbles, pressing soft, sleepy kisses to your neck and collarbone.

------

Yoongi had leaned in that night when everyone had gone to bed, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from Y/N's face. Her eyes had fluttered closed just before their lips met - tender, slow, and trembling with all the words they hadn't yet said.

From that night onward, the silence after midnight became theirs.

Late night cuddles followed - her sneaking into his room barefoot, curling into his arms as if she belonged there. And she did. At least in that moment.

Yoongi would trace invisible shapes on her back, his voice barely above a whisper, "You make it harder to stay away..."

Y/N would smile against his chest, "Then don't."

And he didn't.

He started leaving little things for her.

A pressed flower in her notebook.

A pair of earrings she had once admired in passing.

Her favorite chocolate bar tucked into her bag after a tiring day.

She gave back in her own way too.

Sketches of him left under his pillow.

A handwritten note in his coat pocket: "You're my calm, even in chaos."

Their kisses deepened. Their touches lingered.

But no one knew. No one even suspected.

They were getting lost in each other...

And hiding only made it feel even more intoxicating.

---

The living room buzzed with casual chatter and the clinking of teacups. Y/N sat curled up on the far end of the couch, pretending to scroll through her phone as her mother's voice cut through the room - casual in tone, but heavy in meaning.

"She's already 25," her mother said, turning slightly toward her aunts and uncles. "We should really start thinking about getting her settled."

Y/N's fingers froze mid-scroll. Her heart skipped.

Someone chuckled. "You're right. These days, good boys don't wait forever."

"Actually," her mother added, eyes now directly on Y/N, "there's a family friend's son. Arjun. He just came back from the U.S. And you're both childhood friends so we think you both will look good.

Y/N gave a tight smile, the kind that hid panic. "I'm not really thinking about marriage right now, Mom."

Her mother frowned, her tone turning firm. "Why not? You're not getting younger. If you have someone in mind, say it. Otherwise, we'll go ahead."

Yoongi sat at the edge of the room, half-shadowed by the curtain, his jaw tightening. His fingers clenched the armrest of the chair.

He didn't speak.

He couldn't.

He wasn't just her lover. He was her grandfather's younger brother - and no one could even begin to imagine the truth.

Y/N glanced at him once - their eyes meeting for the briefest moment.

And that was enough. She saw it - the pain, the jealousy, the ache in his gaze.

But she also saw the fear.

She sat straighter and spoke, voice low but clear, "I'm not marrying anyone. Not now. Not Arjun. Not anyone you pick."

Her mother raised an eyebrow. "Then who?"

Y/N's lips parted... but no words came out.

Because the name she wanted to say wasn't allowed to be spoken.

Not here.

Not yet.

The house had fallen silent, wrapped in shadows and sleep. But Y/N wasn't sleeping.

She stood outside Yoongi's room, her heart thudding like a warning against her ribs. She didn't knock. She never needed to.

He opened the door before she could lift her hand, like he already knew she'd come.

His eyes were tired. Sad. Guarded.

She stepped in without a word and closed the door behind her.

"Yoongi..." she began, voice soft.

He turned away, walking toward the window. "I heard what your mom said."

Y/N stayed silent for a moment before answering, "I didn't let her push me. I told her I'm not marrying anyone."

He let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, but for how long, Y/N? One day, they'll force it. And you'll have to choose... between what's safe and what's us."

She walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his back. "I already chose, Yoongi."

He didn't speak, but his hand covered hers where they rested on his stomach.

"I don't want Arjun. I don't want anyone but you," she whispered. "Let them say I'm 25. Let them think I'm wasting time. They don't know I've already found my forever."

He turned slowly, her arms slipping from his waist, and looked down at her - eyes heavy with emotion.

"And if they find out?"

"Then I'll fight for us."

Her fingers reached up to cup his jaw, brushing her lips gently against his - a soft kiss full of promise.

"I'm not afraid of them. But I am afraid of losing you."

His forehead rested against hers as he pulled her close.

"You won't," he whispered. "Not if I can help it."

And for the rest of the night, they stayed wrapped in each other's arms - the outside world forgotten, even if just for a few hours.

------

The morning after her quiet moment with Yoongi, Y/N sat at the dining table with her spine straight, eyes firm, and resolve unshakable.

Everyone was there - her mother, aunts, uncles, cousins, even Yoongi, sitting silently at the far end, eyes unreadable.

She set down her cup with a quiet clink and cleared her throat.

"I want to say something," she began. "And I need you all to hear me properly."

The room went still.

"I'm not getting married. Not now. Not in the future. Not to Arjun or anyone else."

Her mother blinked, frowning. "Y/N-"

"I've thought about this a lot," she interrupted gently. "I don't want to live by someone else's timeline. I have things I want to do. I've just started growing in my work. I'm finally doing what makes me happy. And marriage doesn't fit into that right now."

Her mother stared at her like she didn't recognize her for a moment.

"But what about family? Children? Stability?" someone asked.

Y/N gave a calm smile. "Stability doesn't only come from marriage. And family... I already have one. Right here. I'm not throwing anything away - I'm choosing myself."

There was silence. Long, stretching, thoughtful silence.

Yoongi watched her - proud, moved, and deeply in love with the strength she showed.

Her mother sighed, leaning back in her chair. "If this is what you really want... then fine. But don't expect me to stop worrying."

Y/N laughed softly. "That's your job, Mom."

As the weeks passed, she threw herself into work - launching new projects, attending conferences, making a name for herself. Her independence became impossible to argue with.

And slowly, one by one, her family stopped pushing. They saw her light up in ways she never had before.

They didn't know the real reason she was glowing had more to do with secret kisses in Yoongi's apartment and midnight cuddles than anything else.

But they respected her choice.

And for now... that was enough.

-------

Their Little World

It had been two weeks since Y/N quietly moved into Yoongi's apartment under the pretense of a business stay in the city.

No one knew the truth - that her "temporary" arrangement had turned into stolen mornings and lazy nights wrapped in his arms.

Yoongi's apartment was small but full of warmth, filled with jazz playing softly in the background, the scent of freshly brewed coffee, and the kind of silence that only two people deeply in love could share without discomfort.

This morning, Y/N sat cross-legged on the counter in one of Yoongi's oversized shirts, watching him move around the kitchen.

"You're spoiling me," she said with a teasing smile.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, flipping a pancake. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I'm just saying... you keep cooking like this and I might never leave."

He smirked without looking back. "Good. That's the plan."

She hopped off the counter, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a second. "You know this feels like a dream, right?"

She hummed. "Then don't wake up."

Yoongi turned in her embrace, cupping her face in his flour-dusted hands. "Messy," she whispered, laughing.

"Beautiful," he corrected, before leaning down to kiss her - slow and lingering, like they had all the time in the world.

She melted into it, fingers tangling in his shirt. Every kiss they shared carried both urgency and comfort - like they still couldn't believe they had this, even now.

The pancake on the stove started to burn.

"Yoongi!" she laughed, pulling back.

He groaned and turned around quickly. "Damn it."

Y/N giggled, grabbing a plate. "Okay, Chef Min, let me help before you set off the fire alarm."

They moved around each other with ease - playful touches, pecks on cheeks, and smirks exchanged like secrets.

In this small apartment, hidden away from judgmental eyes, they weren't a taboo.

They were just two people in love, building a little world of their own - one kiss, one breakfast, one soft morning at a time.

STAY TUNE FOR PART 2 OF THIS.