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

Chapter 105: Seven Idiots and a Star

Jimin's POV

I don't remember the last time I felt this... full.

Full of warmth.
Of laughter.

Of something golden and fragile blooming inside my chest.

It's past midnight now.
But nobody's moving.

Nobody's rushing to end this moment.

Instead-We're sprawled across the huge sectional in the living room, limbs tangled, hearts open, laughter crackling through the air like fireflies.

The lights are low, just a few floor lamps glowing soft against the cream walls and the exposed wooden beams above.

The big sliding doors are still cracked open to the pool deck, letting the cool night breeze kiss our skin.

Yeontan snoozes on a blanket pile near Hobi's legs.

Wacha has claimed Yoongi's lap again like the queen she is.

And me?

I'm curled up between Taehyung and Jungkook, with Hobi's socked feet occasionally poking at my knees just to make me squeak.

It's chaos.
It's ridiculous.
It's... perfect.

"You're comfortable?" Y/N noona asks softly from across the couch, chin resting on her folded arms.

I meet her eyes-and there's no pressure in them.

Only patience. Warmth. Home.

"I'm..." I laugh under my breath.

"I don't even have words. I'm ridiculously comfortable."

"Good," she smiles, slow and dazzling.

"Because we're keeping you,"

Jungkook grins, flopping sideways against me like a big affectionate golden retriever.

"Kook, you can't just say that," Hobi laughs, flicking an almond at his forehead.

"I can and I will," Kook says, completely unbothered, and nestles closer into my side, head nudging against my shoulder.

I bite my lip to stop the stupidly wide grin from taking over my whole face.

They're too much.
And somehow it's exactly enough.

Yoongi's voice breaks through the laughter-low and a little raspy.

"So, Jimin-ah..." he says, eyes gleaming mischievously,

"how does it feel to have seven people falling in love with you all at once?"

I choke on air.

The room explodes into cackles.

Even Yeontan barks once, like he's laughing too.

"HYUNG," Tae groans, burying his face in my shoulder like he's trying to disappear.

"You can't just say that!"

"Why not?" Yoongi smirks. "It's true."

"Have mercy on the man, hyung," Namjoon chuckles, lounging back in his corner of the couch, his Henley stretching distractingly across his chest.

"He's still processing."

I sit there, cheeks burning, heart hammering, completely unable to form coherent thoughts.

And yet-Somewhere under the embarrassment-Deeper than the chaos-There's a steady pulse of something warm and certain.

They're serious.
They're really serious.