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

Chapter 128: A Glass House

Jimin hyung making threats wrapped in affection.

Yoongi hyung pretending not to love it.

Wacha curling into the curve of my neck like I was made to carry her.

Taehyung hyung feeding oranges to people like communion.

Hobi hyung still holding me like he's got nowhere else to be.

Joon hyung watching it all like the map of us lives in his chest.

And Y/N noona watching us, finally letting herself breathe again.

But beneath the mess, there's something stronger than silence.

This isn't about tech.
Or teams. Or data.
This is about us.

We don't need to wear the same job titles to be part of the defense line.

Because Yoongi hyung doesn't carry this alone. Neither does Noona or Joon hyung.

Whatever's coming, whoever's watching,
They're going to learn real fast that when you threaten one of us...

You get all of us.

____________________________

Jimin's POV

The house still hums from the morning, laughter that came like a dam breaking, syrup on fingers, the tension laced through Yoongi hyung's voice as he admitted someone let the breach happen.

But it's quieter now.
Not peaceful.
Just... quieter.

Like a theater after the first act, lights dimmed but not dark. Everyone backstage, waiting for the next cue.

I'm standing just beyond the hallway that leads to Noona's studio, watching her laugh at something Gabriel says as he shrugs off his jacket.

He sets down a large portfolio tube with all the showmanship of someone used to being welcomed-too easily.

Wacha, the traitor, slinks out from under the table and curls herself directly into his satchel like she's found her soulmate in leather.

Gab barely glances down. "You still approve of my choices, huh, Queen?"

She chirps, kneading the flap like it's royalty-approved velvet.

Bam starts barking from the living room like the audacity personally offended him.

Jin hyung doesn't even look up from his book. "Bam. Manners."

The barking cuts off with a grumble.

Tannie is half-asleep on Hobi hyung's lap near Joon hyung by the newly installed desk, one tiny paw hanging dramatically off the edge like he's fainting at the sheer tension in the house.

But his ears twitch every time Gabriel laughs.

Which is... often.

I shift my weight against the hallway wall, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded.

Not angry.
Just... alert.

Noona walks over to him, takes the folder from under his arm, and sets it down beside the tea tray.

"Finally," she says, rubbing her temples.

"If I see one more light fixture catalog, I'm going to scream in six dialects."

Gab's laugh is easy.

"Don't test me. I still remember your Visayan accent. It was unholy."

"You're unholy," she shoots back, and they hug-brief, loose-limbed, but familiar.