Stigma Love's Algorithm [ A BTS x Reader Poly ]

Chapter 82: The Smoldering Fuse

His arms wrap around me, strong and grounding, and his warmth seeps into my skin.

"Thank you, hyung," he murmurs against my shoulder.

I grunt, trying to ignore the way my heart stumbles at the quiet sincerity in his voice.

I let my fingers press against the small of his back, holding him there for a second longer than necessary.

Then, just before he pulls away, Namjoon does something that makes my brain short-circuit.

He presses a soft kiss to my cheeks.

I freeze.

My whole body locks up, my breath stalling, my thoughts screeching to a halt.

Joon must feel it because he immediately stiffens, like he's just realized what he did.

He jerks back slightly, eyes widening just a fraction, ears turning red.

"Yah," I mutter, smacking his arm lightly, more out of self-preservation than anything else.

My voice is embarrassingly unsteady.

"What was that?"

Namjoon clears his throat, looking anywhere but at me.

"Uh. Christmas spirit?"

I narrow my eyes at him.

"Christmas spirit, my ass."

His lips twitch, and then suddenly, he's smirking. That infuriating dimpled smirk that means danger.

"You're cute when you're shy,"

he says, voice dropping just slightly.

I feel my entire face heat up.

"Shut up," I grumble, shoving at his shoulder.

He just laughs.

And despite myself, despite the lingering warmth on my skin where his lips had been, despite the way my pulse refuses to settle-I laugh too.

Then my gaze flickers to the external hard drive sitting beside my laptop-the other gift he gave me last night.

I stare at it for a second, my fingers brushing over the engraved letters of my name.

The weight of it feels different now.

He didn't just buy me a hard drive.

He secured it with encryption that most companies would pay thousands for.

He made it mine.

More than that-he put himself in it.

A private, shared digital journal.

A place where he left his thoughts, his poetry, his quiet confessions about us.

I swallow thickly, turning to him.

"This," I say, my voice a little rougher than before. "The hard drive. I-"

Joon watches me, patient.

I clear my throat.

"I looked through it last night."

He nods slowly, his expression unreadable.

"And?"

I exhale sharply, shaking my head.

"You always listen," I murmur. "You always know exactly what I need, even when I don't ask."