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

Chapter 99: Of Roots and Rooms 🔥

I was elbow-deep in frosting, trying to salvage a cake that looked like it had been in a minor explosion.

Jin oppa stood beside me, sleeves rolled up, narrating each step like a cooking show host.

Then Tae padded in from the pool-shirtless, damp, glistening, Yeontan draped in his arms like a soggy towel.

"He belly-flopped," Tae said proudly, water still dripping from his hair. "Again."

Joon came in behind him, toweling his hair dry, and paused at the sight-Tae in all his post-pool glory, Oppa with frosting smudged on his cheek, and me wielding a spatula like a sword.

"You're all so beautiful," Joon deadpanned.

"And wildly unqualified to operate a kitchen."

"Beauty and brains," Tae winked, stepping forward.

He kissed Joon gently at the corner of his mouth, and before Oppa could raise an eyebrow, Tae turned and kissed him on the cheek too.

Jin oppa responded by tugging him in with frosting-covered fingers and kissing him just below the ear.

Joon laughed, brushing frosting onto Oppa's nose before pulling both of them in for a soft, three-way hug that felt more like a promise than a joke.

I leaned against the counter, watching the three of them-this triangle of touch and trust and passion-and felt something settle in my chest.

This house had always been meant for love like that.

_________

Wednesday

The sun filtered in through the tall windows, warm and lazy.

Joon and I were working side by side in my office.

My desk was a storm of sketches and sticky notes, his a calm ocean of neat stacks and meticulously capped pens.

Wacha slept in a sunbeam nearby, occasionally flicking her tail like she disapproved of our productivity.

Jungkook arrived late that afternoon, hoodie askew, cheeks pink from the wind.

His presence changed the room-like someone had opened a window and let spring in.

He dropped his bag, padded over, and leaned on the back of my chair.

"I wanna build a dual-monitor setup in the spare office across bedroom eight," he said casually.

I smiled. "You mean your office?"

He ducked his head, sheepish. "It's not mine... yet."

"But it will be."

Something in his gaze shifted.

The softness deepened, his thumb brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You really meant it. About making space."