|| BTS x Reader Poly Soulmates ||
In a world where soulmates are confirmed with algorithms, can human connection still thrive?
It's 2025, the LoveMap App promises to revolutionize how we find love. Based on intricate data, emotional intelligence, a...
Like no matter how much we stumbled or groaned, we always had this space. This safety.
I settled onto the dining table with Yoongi beside me, Tae leaning against my knee, and Y/N pressing a kiss to my temple before passing out extra napkins.
Only one person was missing.
Jungkook.
We didn't talk about him-not right then-but we all felt it.
The empty space where his unheard voice should've been.
The untouched place at the table.
Yoongi's fingers found mine beneath the tablecloth.
He didn't look at me. Just held tight.
And even though I was sore, and aching, and a little emotionally frayed, I knew this...
Love-real love-was worth every stretch, every bruise, every moment of uncertainty.
We had each other.
And maybe, just maybe, the rest would follow.
__________________________
Y/N's POV
The sky above Seoul was velvet-dark and buzzing with anticipation, the stars just barely visible under the hum of city lights.
The cold should've been biting this high up on Jin oppa's penthouse balcony, but the crackling fire pit warmed the air with a golden-orange glow.
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That, and the fact we were pressed up against each other in some state of undress, definitely helped.
I was in the infinity pool, submerged up to my waist, bubbles and steam curling around my bare skin.
The water lapped against the edges like it knew how much trouble it was containing.
Champagne sparkled in one hand, the other tangled in Taehyung's dark hair as he pressed a slow, languid kiss to my neck.
"You know, Noona," he murmured, his voice husky from champagne and whatever wicked thoughts were brewing behind those sharp, feline eyes,
"I'm still not over how you look in that bikini. What did you say it was? 'Micro'? Because, baby, there's barely any fabric between me and a full-blown incident."
I burst into a giggle, the kind that bubbles up from deep in your stomach when you're tipsy and happy and a little high on love.
"You picked it out, Tae."
"Exactly," he said, lips brushing the corner of mine with infuriating slowness.
"I know good art when I see it."
Joon swam past us, doing lazy strokes, and surfaced near the edge, his wet chest gleaming under the balcony lights.
"I'd like to formally thank the universe for putting such obscene beauty in one place,"
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