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

Chapter 105: Seven Idiots and a Star

And Namjoon sits behind me, long arms wrapped loosely around my shoulders, resting his chin lightly on the top of my head like he's anchoring me to the earth.

I've never felt so held.
So seen.
So utterly wanted.

"Look," Tae whispers suddenly, pointing up.

We all tilt our heads.

A shooting star.
Bright and fast and breathtaking.

Everyone goes quiet.

I close my eyes, make a wish without even thinking,

Let me stay.
Let me love them.
Let them love me.

When I open my eyes again, I swear-They're all looking at me.

Not the star.
Me.

And I know.
I know without doubt,
Their wish was the same.

We stay there for hours.

Talking.
Laughing.
Falling deeper.

Tae and I quietly whispering about our collab-how we want it to feel like a heartbeat, how we want every movement to tell a story of longing and finding and belonging.

Jin teasing me mercilessly but sneaking little glances when he thinks I'm not looking.

Jungkook telling me I have to teach him how to "look sexy while breathing" because apparently I do that effortlessly.

Hobi making up a stupid song about Yeontan being the true king of the house.

Yoongi pretending he's unimpressed by everything but secretly recording little videos of us laughing together.

Y/N gently fixing my hair when the breeze messes it up, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Namjoon quietly squeezing my hand every time my heart feels like it might burst.

It's everything.
It's too much.
It's exactly enough.

And when the night grows heavy and the world tilts toward sleep,

When bodies start sagging into each other, breath slowing, smiles softening,

When Tae murmurs, half-dreaming,

"Stay, Jimin-ah. Stay with us."

I don't even hesitate.

I whisper back,
"I would want nothing more."

And I mean it.
With everything I have.

______________________________

Y/N's POV

Sunlight spills into the master bedroom like a lazy, golden sigh, pooling over the floorboards and catching on the soft folds of blankets and the tangled limbs of six very beautiful, very unconscious idiots.