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

Chapter 98: A House Built in Love

The wine cellar was a piece of art.

Polished black floors, walnut racks housing hundreds of bottles, and low ambient lighting that made it feel like a speakeasy-if speakeasies came with a curated sommelier system and temperature-controlled storage.

Jin oppa inhaled deeply. "It smells like heaven and irresponsibility."

"There's more rosé in here than in France," Hobi teased.

"Yoongi and I curated this wall just for summer moods," Jin oppa replied, pointing dramatically.

"We'll thank me during brunch."

Tannie wandered in behind us, sniffed a wine barrel stool, and then promptly sat like he was ready for a tasting flight.

Yoongi folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "He's got good taste."

"Like father, like son," Tae said, kissing Tannie's head before reaching for Yoongi's hand and squeezing.

I caught Jungkook trailing his fingers across the glass. "How many years do you think it'd take to drink all this?"

Jin oppa shrugged. "Depends. Are you moving in or not?"

Jungkook laughed, ducking his head-and blushed.

We continued on toward a discreet steel door off to the right.

"This," Namjoon said, unlocking it with a thumbprint, "is the other garage."

"Wait, there are two?" Hobi blinked.

"We have a ten-car capacity," I said, trying not to sound smug and failing.

The back garage opened like a luxury showroom-matte black floors, seamless lighting, polished clean.

Oppa's van that we used for the winter trip was already parked inside, flanked by empty spaces.

"You have more parking than my agency's office," Jungkook muttered.

"There's also the front garage," Joon added.

"Where Yoongi hyung's, Tae's, jin hyung's cars and my car and bike's parked. And when you move in, we already carved out a spot for your motorcycle-"

"Next to my car," Tae interjected with a wink.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "You guys are relentless."

"You love it," Yoongi said, barely looking up from adjusting a tarp.

"I do," he mumbled.

We walked a little further, into the art studio, and Hobi actually gasped.

Digital monitors fluttered around it. The walls were whitewashed, clean, hung with pegboards for tools and brushes.

An entire wall was a corkboard already half-filled with Tae's sketches and color palettes.

Two wide oak tables stood ready for chaos, and easels were already placed in corners.