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

Chapter 105: Seven Idiots and a Star

"Rude," Oppa says dryly, sipping his coffee like a man who's been personally wronged.

"Accurate," Tae snickers into my stomach.

I laugh, my chest tightening with love for them all.

For this messy, loud, beautiful family we've built.

For Jimin, who hasn't even fully joined it yet but who already fits so perfectly that the walls themselves seem to lean toward him when he's here.

For the way we're patient-are willing to be patient-because he's worth every second of waiting.

Jin oppa sets his mug down with a decisive thunk.

"Okay," he says, voice bright and bossy.

"House meeting. Agenda: Operation Woo Jimin."

"Oh my god," Yoongi groans, burying his face in Wacha's fur.

"Respectfully, shut up and let me plan," Jin oppa sniffs.

"Respectfully, I will not," Yoongi mutters.

But he's smiling. We all are.
Because this?
This is love, too.

The planning.
The waiting.
The longing.

The absolute, unwavering certainty.
We are his.
He is ours.

And nothing will change that.

Not time.
Not distance.
Not fear.

When Jimin's ready-really ready-we'll be right here.

Open arms. Open hearts.
Ready to catch him.

Ready to love him the way he deserves.

And in the meantime?

We'll build the kind of home that pulls him back like gravity.

Unshakable. Unstoppable. Unbreakable.

Us.

__________________________

Jimin's POV

The first thing I notice is the light.

It's soft, slow-moving - the kind of morning light that creeps in lazy across the floorboards, warming the sheets, the air, my skin.

I'm alone.
In my own bed.

In my tiny studio apartment that somehow feels both too big and too small at the same time.

My body aches in that good, worn-out way - muscles sore from laughing too hard, smiling too much, carrying more happiness than I think I've ever been asked to hold before.

The sheets are tangled around my waist, the faint scent of fresh laundry and last night's cologne clinging to my skin.

But beneath it-deeper-is something else.

A memory.

The sound of Yoongi hyung's low chuckle vibrating against the floorboards of their home.

The feather-light way Y/N noona's fingers carded through my hair like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Tae's sleepy head nudging my shoulder, murmuring nonsense into my hoodie.

Jungkook's endless waterfall of questions and puppy-bright eyes.

Namjoon hyung's grounding hand at the small of my back whenever I shifted, silent reassurance.

Hobi hyung's singing - ridiculous and beautiful and soft.