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halaboyz · 10 months ago

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to yours, jongho

ateez busker! jongho x gn! reader fluff, angst wc: 1.8k warnings: injured reader (wheelchair-user and is said, described a few times) a/n: another inspired by one episode in the kdrama called 'tomorrow'; song has no connection to the storyline! only this song was used for the plot in the kdrama itself, and it's good! + lyrics used in the fic are from random songs, i will input it after the fic. thank you!

"How was everyone's day today? It's almost time to finally rest our eyes and end the day. There is a saying by Talmud, that rather regretting things that happened, regret the things that have yet to happen and haven't done yet. The last song for today is..."

The lady behind the radio solemnly introduces the song but it quickly fades as the bus zooms away, leaving you alone under the heavy drops of the pouring rain.

Just there. Sitting on the your wheelchair beside the bus stop, letting yourself get rained on, hopeless, tears mixing with the drops of rain in your cheeks. It was almost midnight and not even going home was on your mind, nor finding a shelter to be under in.

It felt like it was you against the world. The only thing that made you happy, dancing, was now impossible and out of reach just because of a single injury.

You glance at your casted foot and braced knee, prompting more tears to flow out of your eyes. You thought you've ran out of tears when you got your injury, your eyes seemed to always prove you wrong.

Your thoughts come to a stop when someone reaches out an umbrella over you, letting the rain fall on his back. You reluctantly and emotionlessly face the person, quietly asking him what he needed.

Surely, he's not a thief- if he wasn't dumb enough to see you still on your hospital dress.

"I'm busking near Han River tomorrow night, same time. Do you want to come?" He tries to be cheerful as he offered, his voice soft.

"Sorry. I don't have time for that." You turn, ignoring his presence again and facing in front.

"You have a whole day to decide, you shouldn't give me an answer now. It feels like you're not interested and it hurts. Do I look like I'm not a good singer?" He jokes around, but your face doesn't even budge for a small smile. He awkwardly coughs, regaining his composure. "Come on, I'll give you a VIP spot, just for you!"

"I told you I don't have tim-,"

"If you go around the corner of the convenience store there, you'll find me. Not if it's raining this hard, though! I'll have to cancel and move it to the next night. I'm a pretty famous busker there, so make sure you go early! I'm expecting you!" He blabbers, almost not making you understand.

He quickly hands you his umbrella and runs through the rain, crossing the road safely as your eyes only follow him.

When he's out of sight, your eyes trail to his umbrella, yellow brightly lighting under the lamp post.

Tomorrow's another day. Written on one side of the umbrella, with a drawing of a sun plastered beside the words, you sigh.

"Right. Another day."

It felt like it was just a blink. Did you even sleep? You rise on your hospital bed, finally zoning back in reality.

"Good you're awake. I just finished your discharge papers. Secretary Jeong will be outside after you've changed. I need to go to my office for more paperworks. Make sure you're not a pain in the ass like last night." Your mom only carelessly caresses your hair before leaving, leaving you on your bed.

Your eyes trail outside the window, sun brightly beaming its last hour.

You sigh, calling a nurse to help you around to change your clothes instead. When you were done, you were assisted out of the ward in a wheelchair, getting passed onto your family's secretary.

By the time you got home, there was nothing to do but to stare outside the window. Doors locked, eyes were on you 24/7. The sun sets in front of your eyes and it makes you dread the incoming day once again, the moon isn't even up yet.

You hear a knock outside your door, but you didn't bother even answering, knowing all too well that it didn't matter if you did. They'll force their way in, anyway.

"It's Secretary Jeong, y/n, it's late and you haven't taken any meals for today." The second you glance at the clock, it was already eight in the evening. Your eyes go back to the window, and the moon was already up. Although you swore you just saw the sun setting a minute ago. "Do you want anything?"

The secretary doesn't even expect any answer from you, but stays behind you anyway.

"Fresh air. Outside." You simply say, not even glancing at the secretary.

"You know I can't do that."

"Then try not asking next time." The oh-so-sweet attitude of yours was now long gone. As you glared at the window after being ticked-off, Secretary Jeong sighs.

"Fine. As long as this doesn't reach your mom, okay? And please, no wheeling away."

You and Jeong, as you like to call him, drive to the nearest park in your house, which is coincidentally the Han river park.

He takes you around to get the fresh air you've been wanting, holding your wheelchair tightly at all times. You do nothing and plan nothing but to admire the night view, trying to cheer yourself up.

"..Mic check, mic check..." A loud and clear voice followed by numerous cheers perk your interest in one corner of the park, and you let out a small chuckle. Jeong double checks if he hears right, furrowing his brows.

Your eyes wander around and you see the convenience store in another corner, and a forming crowd in another side.

"Right. Can I watch?" You go back to having a poker face, glancing at him. He reluctantly nods and pushes your wheelchair on a side where the crowd can't trample on you, but the singer is visible anyway.

"Then, I'll start now. Please look and listen to us prettily," He smiles and points at the people behind him having cajon and a piano on the side. He looks around first with the goal of finding someone before sighing and prepping.

A rose blossoming among the concrete Please be alive Thrive and grow, don’t snap A blanket of thorns How tough it must’ve been Thank you for standing strong

He starts off solemn, cheery. He gains a few more people to listen and interestingly look at him, singing along and waving along. The lyrics hit you like a brick, making you sigh. You enjoy the way the words flow out of his lips melodically, like it was so easy to do in real life.

“I didn’t want any of this” I can say I can hate but nothing will change Looking back now I see the me with eyes forward Standing strong getting’ by moment to moment Didn’t think much just believed in me ... I’m a rose among the concrete Until this bleak city becomes filled with color I’ll keep my head up, stand my ground until the very end Until they get drunk off of my scent and smile

When he finished the song, he gained a loud cheer and applause, making him shyly succumb behind the thin mic stand while muttering continuous thank you's.

"Okay. That was our first song," He smiles, eyes still looking around. When he finally sees someone sat on a wheelchair just behind the crowd, he finally heaves a sigh of relief and smiles at you. "It's not the end of the world. You can bloom even in the smallest things, unexpected places. You can cry, you can take a break. As long as you don't give up, the world will be a better place."

He doesn't break eye contact as he says everything, smiling at you and then back to the crowd as if he didn't do anything such as change your life by helping you.

"Okay, next song!"

Jeong takes a good look at you, because finally, after weeks, there was a smile on your face and as much as his phone was getting bombarded by your mother's calls, he couldn't care a second.

"Let me finish another song and then we'll wrap up for today. Again, tonight too, it has been Choi Jongho, everybody. Thank you!" All that mattered was his name. He still introduced the ones that came with him, though. You just didn't care.

Though a permanent scar May be the price of holding you I'll give my all to you, to you ... So you won't get any scars, I'll hold you Even when I'm hurt, I'll guard you No need to worry, I'm here for you Look at my smile, it's my all for you When all lights fade When I sink to the ground When I drown in despair I'll still hold you close

"Did you enjoy? I thought you didn't have time?" Jongho, after fixing his things and bidding goodbye to his group, has come and smile brightly at you. "I told you I had a place for you. If you came a it earlier and where I can see you, I would've placed you there beside us."

Jeong only walks a few steps away in confusion for your privacy, still keeping his eyes on you.

"Who did you come with? Who's he?" Jongho curiously looks at the man, and Jeong only looks back. When he gets no answer, he takes his eyes back on you. "Are you that starstruck?"

"Thank you." You smile, "I actually didn't remember until awhile ago, when I was already here and you were already starting. I'm glad I wanted fresh air. I'm glad I was taken here. I'm glad to hear you sing. But most importantly, I'm glad that you had the most melodic voice I ever heard." You joke around, chuckling. He also laughs wholeheartedly, smiling at you.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it too, then."

"Those songs too... Thank you. I'm not saying you sang it for me, but it definitely did its part for me. So thank you, Mister Choi Jongho." He gives you a small smile and extends his hand for you to shake.

"I believe I deserve an incentive." He sharply inhales and glares jokingly at you.

"Oh. Right. I don't have anything on me, but Jeong will." You were about to signal for Jeong when he takes your hand, shaking it.

"I was joking. Your name will do. So let's start again. Hi, I'm Choi Jongho and you're...?" Jongho smiles expectantly, waiting for you.

As your name slips out of your lips, he shakes your hand mumbles a nice to meet you.

"Don't you think you owe me another one for my umbrella?" He shakes his head, looking down on his feet. You chuckle, asking him what he wanted.

"Is it finally money because I can call Jeong,"

"Your number and maybe a few dates?" He mumbles, looking wherever except your eyes.

It takes you a few seconds before you break into a genuine smile, reaching for his phone in his hand.

"There." You give it back to him and he squeals internally, giddily on his toes and checking his phone.

"Okay, maybe that umbrella- I just found it on the lost and found area. But it served great purpose!" You gasp at the confession, finally laughing at your heart's content.

Because finally, even when you thought your world has just been broken down to pieces, an angel has come and saved you.

h1key - rose blossom young k - guard you

*i got all english lyrics from genius!

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jeonscatalyst · 2 months ago

Note

Jin has mentioned Jk in almost everything he's done since enlistment discharge, yet the cult won't bat an eye lash to that and say he's dating Jk. It only matters if its Tae talking about JK and doing Jk related things & non stop talks about him. They say that's him declaring he's his boyfriend or showing off his man. Umm okay. Jin brought up Jk first thing at his fan event. Did Jk's Seven dance. Wore a JK shirt. Still bringing him up in almost every interview and on Run Jin and not really any other members, just Jk. So does this mean Jinkook are married, according to cult logic or do they not acknowledge that, cause then it means having to just say their ship are only friends, like Jinkook? LOL Hypocrites. I wish they could see how insane they really come across. They don't get it, do they. Pitiful. The really are clowns.

Lol anon.

The cult doesn’t care if literally anyone else mentions Jungkook from today till the thy kingdom comes but they throw a fit when Jimin does and then when Tae does, that is the biggest sign of true love. Jungkook has literally been on Jin’s lips non stop since he got discharged from the military and even Yoongi almost couldn’t go one episode without mentioning Jungkook on Suchwita and no one cared but all it took for the cult to go bonkers was Jimin saying that Jungkook was doing well in the military💀.

This is also for some of the jikookers who constantly shaded Tae claiming that he was constantly mentioning Jk to feed tkkrs. Would we say the same thing about Jin now? What is the difference between what Jin is doing now and what Tae used to do? Sometimes people might just talk alot about their friends with no alterior motives so if we stop letting tkkrs get into our heads, we really wouldn’t feel the need to do all that.

Welp Jinkook married!!

Jinkook truthers it’s your time to shine!

#jungkook #jin #jinkook #taehyung #taekook #the cult

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scary-grace · 11 months ago

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Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 21) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside-down world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Chapter 21

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it. You were okay with that when you bought it, but right now the thing that’s wrong with your house is the fact that you’re not in it. Tomura is coming home today – is home right now, in fact – but you’re not there with him. Instead you’re out to breakfast, in the same diner where you and the others plotted to kill the conjurer, with every single human in the neighborhood. Plus Inko, because why not?

You said you’re in the diner. It would be more accurate to say that you’re trapped in the diner, because you’re stuck in the corner of the booth between Shinsou and Jin’s entire family, wedged in so tightly that going out over the table or under it would be impossible. You’ve determined that this is Aizawa’s fault, so you glare at him. “There had better be a good reason why you dragged me here.”

“It’s for your own good,” Aizawa says. “And for Tomura’s, so if you claim to care about him –”

“If I claim to?”

“You’ll allow us to speak. We have more experience with this than you do.”

“None of us had help,” Jin’s mom says. “We had to figure things out by trial and error, and given the situation, we didn’t think it would be fair to let you go through the same thing.”

“Helping a ghost get used to being a human is hard,�� Shinsou says. “And getting used to being human is hard for a ghost. We’re helping you. The other ghosts are all at your house helping him.”

“Oh.”

“They have a lot of stuff to explain,” Keigo says. “Stuff you wouldn’t want to explain. Like body stuff.”

“And hygiene stuff,” Inko adds. “They’re used to dematerializing any time they get dirty. Having to clean up is an adjustment.”

“It’s all an adjustment,” Aizawa says. “Our purpose here is to make the adjustment as easy as possible. Let’s begin.”

“No, let’s order,” Keigo says. The server’s here. “Hi. We’ll need a lot more coffee than this.”

There are so many of you that ordering takes forever, and while you wait your turn, you think over the events of the last few days. You went back to work the day after you were discharged from the hospital, scared the hell out of your coworkers, and got booted out by Mr. Yagi, who insisted you go home and rest. You went to the hospital instead, hanging out in Tomura’s room with the ghosts who were on shift. You and Hizashi spent some time formulating a backstory for Tomura, one that lines up with the lies you already told your parents, and Mr. Yagi helped you sneak the fake birth certificate into the government records. That was your first day out. On your second day out, you got to go back to work.

Work sucked. You tore through your inbox like a crazy person, trying to get as much done as possible, knowing you’d be out the whole next week and probably longer. Your progress was impeded by your coworkers, who’d heard rumors about what happened – you and your boyfriend getting kidnapped by a serial killer – and wanted to know if they were true. Surprisingly, Nakayama came to your rescue, shooing the others off. She made it clear that the price was a tell-all happy hour later on, but you decided it was worth it to get everybody else off your back.

Tomura woke up officially last night. The ghosts went to pick him up this morning, right around when the humans dragged you out of your house. You haven’t even seen him, and you’re so crabby about it that when the server asks you what you’re having today, you order half the menu on Aizawa’s dime.

Keigo manages to hold in his snickers until after the server’s walked away. “Gotta fuel up for when you get back, huh?”

“Hey. Gross,” Spinner protests. “There’s kids here.”

“Nah, I’m kidding. I saw what he looks like now. Too much exertion would probably kill him.” Keigo tips a huge wink at you and you roll your eyes. “Anyway, I officially call this meeting of ghost friends anonymous to order. Who wants to start?”

“Probably one of you two,” Jin says, gesturing at Inko and Aizawa. “You all have the same kind of ghost.”

Inko and Aizawa trade a glance, and Inko speaks up first. “Be prepared for a lot of frustration on Tomura’s part,” she says. “Most ghosts permanently embody themselves into healthy forms, so it’s likely that he’ll perceive some unfairness, and possibly express some regret. It’s got much less to do with you than with the adjustment to living as a human, so try not to take it personally.”

“Yeah, don’t take anything personally,” Jin agrees. “Himiko bit us a lot at first. For, like, no reason.”

You try to imagine Tomura biting you for no reason, and can’t. “Remember,” Aizawa says, “Tomura wouldn’t have been capable of permanent embodiment unless it was what he truly wanted. That doesn’t mean adjusting to it will be easy.”

“Like Takami says, the physical stuff is hard to explain,” Shinsou says. He grimaces. “But even just the rules of being human are a lot for them to figure out. They’ve been watching us all follow the rules, but they’ve never had to do it themselves, and they’re still them. They still don’t get a lot of the stuff we do. He’s gonna ask a lot of questions. And he’s gonna complain.”

“Magne had this thing about crosswalks,” Spinner says. “Also about clothes. She still has a thing about clothes. She thinks she can wear whatever she wants, wherever she wants, whenever she wants, as long as the important bits are covered up. I don’t really know how to explain that you just can’t do some stuff.”

You sort of like Magne’s don’t-give-a-fuck attitude about it, but you can see how it would cause trouble. “The more power they had before they embodied themselves, the less attentive they are to social norms or boundaries,” Aizawa says. “Behavior in public is something to be watchful of. A public indecency charge is not something you want to incur.”

He’s scowling in a way that says this piece of advice is coming out of personal experience. You can’t decide if you want to hear the full story or if you never want to think about it again. “I mean, I think you’ve done sort of a good job training him on this stuff already,” Keigo says. “He’s got some social skills.”

You feel like he might be giving Tomura a little too much credit. “Like three social skills.”

“That’s three more than Dabi’s got,” Spinner points out, which shouldn’t really make you feel better but does anyway. “I hung out with him more than anybody except her, and he’s not that bad. It’ll probably get harder once you two start going out in public, but he’s not starting at zero. He’s at like – level three.”

“One level for every social skill,” Shinsou says, and snickers. “Nice.”

“I think the larger problem is overstimulation,” Jin’s mom says, and it takes all your self-control not to start in with some really inappropriate thoughts. “However they’ve been perceiving through their senses when they’re embodied, it’s much more intense when the embodiment’s permanent – at least from what we saw with Himiko.”

“In general, they struggle with one sense more than the others,” Aizawa says. “For Eri it was taste.”

“Himiko, too,” Jin’s mom confirms. “That might have been what the biting was about. She also struggled with smell, which makes sense, since taste and smell are fairly connected. What about Magne, Spinner?”

“Sight for sure,” Spinner says. “Light sensitivity, color sensitivity, everything. She sees colors the rest of us don’t even know exist. It’s cool. But it sucked at first.”

“For Hizashi it was hearing,” Aizawa adds. “Ghosts are able to hear in multiple dimensions, and his hearing was particularly sensitive as a ghost. It took him two years to be able to go without noise-canceling headphones outside.”

You have a feeling you already know what Tomura’s oversensitivity is going to be. Given the number of contact allergies he’s already displayed and what he was like as a ghost, physical touch is going to be a big problem. It’s so daunting to think of that it pushes you into asking your first real question of the day. “How did you help them cope with it?”

“Patience,” Inko says.

You thought that was a given. “Time,” Jin’s mom adds.

“Space,” Aizawa says, and everyone nods. “Now, for the first few weeks –”

You knew helping Tomura adapt to being human wasn’t going to be easy, but as the ghost friends outline all the things you hadn’t even considered, you begin to grasp just how hard it’s going to be. Every last ghost did damage to their relationship with their human, or humans, while they were trying to adjust. Every human had more than a few moments of thinking how much easier it would have been for their ghost to stay a ghost. Even Hizashi and Mr. Yagi, who were the most intentional about their embodiments, had days where they made living with them feel impossible. You’re glad everyone is being honest with you, thankful that they aren’t sugarcoating it, but your stomach is tying itself in a knot.

Tomura’s embodiment wasn’t just an adjustment, it was a last resort to avoid being sucked back into the world between. And it almost didn’t work. If even the ghosts who wanted this were nightmares to live with at first, what’s going to happen with him? Nobody can answer that for you, or tell you how to cope with however many times Tomura will probably tell you that he wishes the two of you had never met. All they can tell you is the same three things: Patience, time, and space.

To be fair to the ghost friends, they highlight the fun stuff, too. Spinner talks about taking Magne to a museum for the first time, and to a mall. Jin and his family turned themselves into foodies so they could try everything alongside Himiko. Even before Shinsou and Eri were adopted, Shinsou taught himself to make candy apples, because Eri had seen them on TV and wanted to try them. Aizawa, looking as calm and reflective as you’ve ever seen him, talks about taking Hizashi to movies, to concerts, to the opera, and watching him hear things as they were meant to be heard for the first time. Inko, smiling broadly, tells you about when she was pregnant, and Mr. Yagi’s reaction the first time he put his hand on her stomach and felt Izuku kick.

“He looked like he’d seen a ghost,” she says, laughing. “He didn’t know babies did that.”

Keigo is laughing, too. You picture Mr. Yagi’s startled expression, the one you’ve seen so many times right before he starts coughing blood, and find it in yourself to smile. “They’re still themselves underneath it all,” Inko says. “Even if it takes time to see.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Most of the plates are empty, including yours. You’ve been eating steadily just to have something to do with your hands. “There’s one more thing,” Keigo says. “Stronger ghosts keep some of their powers when they embody permanently. According to Touya, Tomura kept a lot of his. He can still read auras, like they all can, but he can project a pretty strong aura all on his own. And he can still drain stuff, even if he can’t do anything with the life-force. So far it’s looking like he needs to touch something with all five fingers for it to happen, and since it’s not anything close to a natural human ability, he has to really want to destroy it. Just keep an eye on him if he starts to get mad.”

“Okay,” you say. “What else?”

“We’re happy for you,” Shinsou says, and Inko nods, smiling still. Everybody’s smiling, now that you notice it. “It’s a big thing. And it’s a good thing. Now you’re really part of the neighborhood.”

You could be. You can be, now that you and Tomura can both leave if you want to. For a moment, hope begins to tug at you – but then you remember what Keigo said, and what everybody else said about patience, space, and time. It’ll be a long time before the two of you can be part of anything. And probably a long time before the two of you are a two of you again, too. Aizawa’s phone buzzes, and he looks at it. “They’re finishing up over there. We should head back, too.”

He heads to the cash register to pay the bill, and the rest of you work on extricating yourselves from the booth. You wince as you stand up, feeling your stitches pull. Keigo notices. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ll live.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard with this stuff,” Keigo says. He gestures awkwardly at his broken arm with the other. “It’s a lot to bounce back from. I’m here when you need to talk. Like I have been.”

“Same here,” you say, and Keigo smiles. “And, um – thanks for taking over with the kids, during the fight. I had to try.”

“It was a pretty good try,” Keigo says magnanimously. “You ran a fire poker right through that guy’s chest. Remind me not to piss you off.”

“You know, I think your house is still the scariest house in the neighborhood,” Jin muses. “I figured Dabi’s house or Aizawa’s was going to take over, but nope. Tomura still has a bunch of his powers and you almost killed two guys. You’re the scariest for sure.”

The scariest house in the neighborhood, and now you’re part of the reason why it’s scary. The list of things that make you feel better these days is short and weird, and Jin’s statement gets added almost instantly. “Thanks.”

You all carpooled in the Bubaigawara van, and Jin’s mom parks it in front of her own house, allowing everybody else to spill out onto the sidewalk. You and Keigo and Aizawa are last out, and as you get your feet under you, you notice a lot of ghosts milling around in front of your house. In front of it, not inside the fence. You make your way over, stumbling a little bit. “Did he kick you out?”

“Nah, we left. Figured he needed some processing time,” Hizashi says. He’s looking past you, at Aizawa. “Hey, what are you doing walking around? You’re supposed to rest your leg.”

Himiko skips up to you, towing Eri and Izuku after her. “It’s all fine,” she tells you, smiling. “He understands everything and we gave him some of everybody’s clothes until he can buy his own.”

“He looks even more like me now!” Eri is bouncing from foot to foot. “He’s going to come over to our house.”

“Oh.” You wonder if Tomura actually meant it, or if he just said it so she’d leave him alone. “That’s – nice.”

“You’re invited, too,” Eri assures you. Then she, like Hizashi, looks over your shoulder. “Dad! Hitoshi!”

Himiko peels off to meet Jin, leaving you with Izuku, who’s watching the house. “Tomura’s still really powerful,” he says. “Even when he’s human the aura is still there. Dad says he could probably take on a strong conjurer, even like this.”

“What else did your dad say?”

“That’s for you to ask Tomura yourself,” Mr. Yagi says, drawing up alongside Izuku. He smiles at you. “I’ve cleared your schedule next week. Let me know if you need more time.”

“And call if you need anything,” Inko reiterates. She takes Mr. Yagi’s hand and wraps an arm around Izuku’s shoulders. “Come over for dinner when you’re ready.”

“Yes!” Izuku looks way too happy at the thought. “I have lots of questions for both of you!”

You decide you’ll wait a while to take them up on that invitation, but they’re not the only ones who stop to talk to you specifically. Each of the ghosts stops by briefly, all of them reassuring you that Tomura’s fine. You’re not going to believe them until you see it for yourself.

Finally, Aizawa and Hizashi are all that’s left. Aizawa hands you a book – another one of his. You read the cover out loud and snicker. “What To Expect When Your Ghost Embodies Itself? Great title.”

“It’s a little boring,” Hizashi says, and you realize he doesn’t get the joke. Aizawa is smirking slightly. “Good stuff in there, though.”

“It covers everything we discussed earlier, and a little more,” Aizawa says. “Good luck.”

“You probably won’t be up to it, but come over later if you want,” Hizashi says. “That conjurer ruined our Halloween, so we’re throwing a make-up party at our place. Costumes mandatory.”

There’s no way you’re making it to that party. You thank them for the invitation anyway, tuck the book under your arm, and step through the front gate into your yard. Up the front steps, through the unlocked door, into the front hall. Some part of you is expecting Tomura to materialize in front of you, but he can’t do that anymore. “I’m home,” you call out, and Phantom comes scrabbling across the floor towards you, wagging her tail. You greet her, then pick her up. “Tomura?”

“In here.”

He’s home. Your heart leaps so hard and fast it seems a little ridiculous, and you hurry into the living room to see him. He’s there, sitting on his usual couch cushion, wearing some bizarre mix of clothing from every guy in the neighborhood, plus a pair of socks that could only have come from Himiko. The urge to launch yourself at him, to climb all over him like he’s done to you so many times and prove to yourself that he’s alive and he’s safe, is overpowering. But you remember what the others said. Patience, time, space. You don’t want to overwhelm him. You set Phantom down on the couch next to him and take a few steps back, keeping a respectful distance.

It’s quiet for a while. You break the silence. “How do you feel?”

He has the hood of his hoodie up, throwing his face into shadow. “Like shit.”

That’s about what you were expecting. You need more detail if you’re going to help, but you don’t want to push him. “Did everything go okay at the hospital?”

His shoulders lift, then fall. You see him grimace. “It was weird. All that stuff they did. The stupid paperwork is over there if you want to look at it.”

“Okay.” Before, when he wasn’t human, you’d have helped yourself. Now – “Do you want me to look at it?”

Another shrug. If he didn’t want you to, he’d say no, right? You pick the folder up off the coffee table and open it to the discharge summary, which is a mistake. The list of injuries Tomura came in with is staggering. Seeing this, you’re amazed they only kept him in for five days. “Well?” Tomura asks.

You set the folder down. “You healed up really fast.”

“There are things wrong with me,” Tomura says. One hand rises to scratch his neck. “My skin is messed up. I’m – allergic.”

“I have allergy medicine for stuff like that. And itch cream.”

“They gave me some.” Tomura still hasn’t taken down his hood. “What did the humans want?”

“They wanted to tell me how to help you adjust,” you say, and Tomura makes a derisive sound. Phantom stirs, whines, and noses closer to him. “What did the ghosts want with you?”

“To explain.” The derision is obvious in Tomura’s voice. “Like I’m stupid or something.”

“You aren’t. They don’t think that,” you say, only to realize that Tomura still probably knows what the other ghosts are thinking better than you do. “They probably don’t want you to make the same mistakes as they did. From what the humans were saying, they all made a lot of mistakes.”

“They almost scared their humans off.” Tomura’s voice goes weirdly flat. “I already did that.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know what I look like. When I saw the picture on the ID, that was the first time.” Tomura seems to sink further into his hoodie, and suddenly you understand why he hasn’t taken down the hood. “No wonder you didn’t want me embodied. You’d have to look at me all the time.”

“Tomura –”

“I just wanted to stay. I didn’t want to go back. I thought it would be the same, but it’s not,” Tomura says. There’s a weird strain in his voice now, one you’ve never heard from him but know intimately yourself. “There are things wrong with me. I’m ugly. You wanted me when I was a ghost and I was powerful, not when I’m human and weak. You won’t even come near me.”

“No,” you say, and Tomura scoffs. “No! When I was talking to the others, they said it’s hard to get used to a human body – stuff might be harder to cope with now that it’s permanent – they said I should give you time and space –”

“I didn’t do this so I could have time and space!” Tomura’s still got enough power to rattle the walls without raising his voice. “I did it so I could – so we –”

His voice breaks. Phantom edges closer to him and he shies away, both hands coming up to cover his face at odd angles. You stand there for a moment, paralyzed by the decision between everything the other ghost friends told you and what Tomura’s saying now, what he’s doing now. But in the end it’s not a decision at all. You hurry around the coffee table, move Phantom to the cushion at the far end of the couch, and sit down right next to Tomura, getting in his space without asking the same way he always does to you. You pry his hands away from his face one at a time, and he fights you. He’s fighting you with a fraction of his strength and you both know it. “Let go. I don’t want you. I don’t want your pity –”

“It’s not pity,” you say. He lets you have one of his hands and you immediately try for the other. “I don’t know what this is like for you. I’m trying to do the right thing, but I should have just asked you what you needed. I can do better.”

“You don’t want to. You don’t want this!” He pulls his hand free of yours to gesture at himself. “I know what you wanted. You wanted –”

“You.” You don’t even have to think before you answer. “I wanted you. I want you.”

He stares at you from between his fingers. You give up on trying to free his hands and press in close against his side. He startles at your touch, but doesn’t shy away. He smells like the hospital. His voice is quiet, shaky, strained. “You liked when I was cold.”

“It was nice. But I’ve got AC. And now I can hold you for as long as I want without getting frostbite.”

“You liked that I got rid of the bugs.”

“I’m still making you get rid of the bugs,” you say, and Tomura makes a sound that’s too watery to be laughter. “But I can get rid of my own, too. I had a whole plan for that hornets’ nest.”

“Your plan sucked.” It did sort of suck, looking back. Tomura’s voice is quieter when he speaks again. “You liked when I was stronger than you.”

“You’re still stronger than me.” You can feel it when you touch him, a faint thread of power vibrating just beneath his skin. “That’s not the important stuff.”

“What is?”

“Everything else,” you say. “You’re still you, Tomura. It might feel different to be in the world like this, but you’re still who you are. That’s who I want. Who I love.”

It’s quiet for a long time. “You liked the way I looked before.”

It’s a weird enough thing to say to startle a laugh out of you. “The way you look now is how you’ve always looked, Tomura. Your hair’s a different color, that’s all.”

“I always looked like this.” Tomura sounds skeptical. “You said I was pretty.”

“You are pretty.” You reach for the edges of his hood and his hands come up, grasping your wrists, holding you still. He holds you there for a few seconds, then lets go, and lets you pull down the hood.

It’s him. Those same features you saw outlined in steam in the bathroom, on your back porch with the ashes of a hornets’ nest at his feet. The same red eyes that have watched you for almost two years, that have catalogued every inch of you, that looked up into yours after the gateway to the world between slammed shut for the last time. You’ve seen all his expressions before, except this one: The way he looks when he’s been crying. As you watch, his pupils open and shut, and more tears slip down his cheeks.

You scramble to wipe them away, cradling his face in your hands. He flinches when your palm gently meets his cheek, and you draw back, only for him to catch your wrist and press your hand hard against his skin. That feels normal enough to make you smile. Tomura’s never been shy about pulling you around. “You’re pretty,” you say again. “You’ve never looked any different than this. I like it. I don’t care if you do. I don’t care about anything except that you’re home.”

“But –”

“The next words out of your mouth had better not be ‘Dabi said’.”

An aggrieved silence falls, and you find yourself struggling not to laugh. It feels normal. It feels like any weird little argument you and Tomura have had, except that he can’t dematerialize to teach you a lesson and you can’t end the fight just by stepping outside. “You love me,” Tomura ventures after a while. “Like this?”

“Don’t be stupid,” you say. “Of course I do.”

Tomura knocks you over a second later.

Cuddling on the couch is more complicated than it used to be, mainly because Tomura’s a long way from being used to what touch feels like in a truly human form and he can’t get comfortable the way he usually would. If he can barely stand to stretch out on top of you, there’s no way he can handle kissing, and you can tell that the overload of sensation doesn’t turn him on so much as it fries his brain. Not that that stops him from trying to kiss you more. “Take it easy,” you say. “You just got home. I don’t want to take you back to the hospital because you tried to kiss me and had a heart attack.”

“That doesn’t happen,” Tomura says with confidence. Then, as you watch, you see him start to doubt himself. Some how he’s less sure about humans now that he is one. “Does it?”

“It could.” You remember something from a few days ago about how too much exertion on not enough calories could damage Tomura’s heart, and he still feels way too thin. “Can you reach your discharge papers? I want to read them.”

He reaches out to grab them from the coffee table, but it’s ever so slightly too far away. Before he’d dematerialize one hand, snatch them, and bring them back. Now he just glares at them and keeps glaring – and as you watch in some mix of surprise and horror, the folder lifts from the table and drops to the ground next to the couch.

Tomura realizes you’re staring at him and smirks. “I never said all my powers were gone.”

Now that he’s realized you still love him, he’s cocky, but you’re not annoyed about it. You’re not going to forget what it was like when you got home, what it was like to see him cry, and you’re not dumb enough to think today will be the last time it comes up. Tomura flops down again, his head against your chest, and you pick up his discharge papers and flip through them. Sure enough, there’s one specific instruction highlighted and in bold type. “No intense physical activity until you’re cleared by a doctor,” you say. Tomura scowls. You keep reading. “Your follow-up’s in two weeks. It’s not that long.”

“Maybe if we go slow –”

“No.” You set the papers down and trace over one tendon in his neck, wincing as he twitches and writhes and digs his knees and elbows into every soft body part you possess. He’s lying on top of all your stitches, and it’s starting to hurt. “You can barely handle being touched at all right now. I’m not going to send you back to the hospital and I’m not going to melt your brain.”

“It’s my brain. I get to decide –”

“You don’t get to leave me,” you say, and Tomura looks up, startled. “Two weeks.”

Tomura studies you for a moment. Then he flops down again. “Fine. Two weeks. But then I get to – what happened? Why did you make that noise?”

You tried not to. Really. But one of the too-prominent points of Tomura’s ribcage just dug directly into one of your largest wounds, and you think you might have popped a stitch. Tomura sits up, pulls you with him, starts yanking at your shirt. “I want to see. Let me see –”

Your shirt turns to dust in an instant. You didn’t realize Tomura could do that to things that weren’t alive, and you sit there, bemused. Tomura is staring at you, eyes blazing with fury. “My marks,” he says, and you nod. It occurs to you that this is the first time he’s seen the extent of your injuries. “How did he take them out?”

“One at a time. With a knife.” You try to make light of it, try to sound like it isn’t haunting you, like waking up in a hospital bed after it was all over didn’t scare you so badly that you had to be sedated. “Not my best Monday ever.”

“Don’t joke about it.” Tomura’s voice is hard. “He hurt you so much you wanted to die. I should have killed him slower. It should have taken exactly as long as this did.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to cover up the worst of the wounds. The doctors who treated you had decent poker faces, but since you’ve gotten home, you’ve gone out of your way to avoid getting a good look at what happened. Tomura’s expression as he looks at you tells you everything you need to know about how bad it is. “I haven’t even had them for a week yet,” you say. Your voice sounds thin. “They won’t look like this forever.”

Tomura’s jaw clenches. “I don’t care what they look like. I care that they hurt.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You sit there numbly and Tomura watches you, clearly thinking something over but not doing it, whatever it is. “I can’t,” he starts frustrated. “I can’t do the thing I want to do anymore. When I wasn’t materialized I could –”

He makes a gesture, and suddenly you understand what he means. You crawl forward across the couch into his arms, and he wraps himself around you. It’s not like it was before. He can’t enfold you completely like he used to, fitting like a second skin. But now you’ve got something solid to lean against, someone who’s warm like you are, someone who maybe understands how you feel about this whole thing. Tomura’s hugs were always a little awkward, even when he was fully materialized. He didn’t understand what was comfortable and what wasn’t, why you’d be at ease in one position but not in another, and he’d complain when you tried to adjust. Tomura’s not complaining now. He adjusts with you, and once you’re settled, you try not to move too much. It’s weird. But it’s the kind of weird you can get used to.

“You smell nice,” Tomura says after a little while. He unwraps one arm from around you and sniffs his own armpit. Then he makes a face. “I smell weird.”

“You smell like the hospital,” you say. “We can fix that. Want to shower?”

Tomura gives you a suspicious look. “I’m not allowed in the bathroom while you’re in there.”

“That was before.” You think over the events of the last week. He’s already seen you naked. The two of you have had sex. He’s your boyfriend, and he’s human. Whatever objections you had, they aren’t valid anymore. “The rules still apply if either of us is using the toilet, but we can shower together. If you want. Do you want to?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tomura says, which means yes. “I thought you’d never let me.”

There are a lot of things you thought would never happen, and a lot of them happened in the last week. You pull yourself out of Tomura’s arms reluctantly and lead him up the stairs.

You check over your wound care instructions and Tomura’s as he gets undressed. Everything looks about the same for both of you. You also take the opportunity to go over the list of known allergens the doctors gave you yesterday. Almost all your soaps and shower products meet the criteria already – low to no scent, hypoallergenic, no harsh chemicals. You set out an extra towel and an extra sponge and lay down a bath mat, then turn on the water.

Since you met Tomura you’ve been taking hot showers, but they can be hard on skin, and you don’t want Tomura to faint. You opt for warm water instead, take off your own clothes, and inspect your stitches for a moment before stepping into the shower. The spot Tomura elbowed by accident looks unhappy, but the coarse black stitches haven’t come undone. Seeing them makes you feel sick. You look away and step into the shower, leaving the door cracked for Tomura to follow you in.

There’s room for both of you inside, but it’s a close fit. You have a feeling that you and Tomura will be having a discussion about the impracticality of shower sex at some point in the future, but that’s not for today. You switch positions carefully with Tomura so that he’s under the majority of the spray and watch him startle as it patters against his skin. You wonder what he’s thinking.

You’ve spent a lot of time wondering what Tomura’s thinking since you met him, but it occurs to you that you can ask. “What’s going on up there?”

“It’s – so much. Loud. But not loud. It feels like – a lot.” Tomura’s hair is plastered to his face from the water. He pushes it out of his eyes. “I’m fine. I don’t want to get out.”

“We won’t get out,” you promise. “Take the time you need.”

He twists this way and that under the spray, working on getting used to it. He’s got stitches, too, all of them taken with the same coarse thread as yours. “Now what?”

You pick up a bottle of shampoo. The mild kind. “Put this in your hair and sort of scrub it around, then rinse it out,” you explain. Tomura brushes his hair out of his eyes again, looking vaguely skeptical. “Or I can do it for you.”

“You.”

You should have known he’d answer like that. He’s got enough of a height advantage on you that you’re going to need him to sit down for this to work, and there are an awkward few minutes while the two of you get settled. You lean back against the wall, and Tomura leans back against your chest, head tipped forward. “Make sure you close your eyes,” you say. “This will sting if it gets in them.”

Tomura nods without looking up. You pour some shampoo into your hand and get to work.

His hair is tangled, like always. Worse than always, because he’s been materialized this entire time, and he hasn’t brushed it at all. You forget about washing his hair for a second in favor of detangling it, and Tomura slumps back against you. “You’re still doing that now that I’m here all the time? I thought you’d stop.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Tomura says quickly. You return your attention to the knot you’re working through. “I thought it was just because I was a ghost.”

Huh. “What other things do you think I was only doing because you were a ghost?”

The answer, it turns out, is a lot of things. If Tomura had asked any of the other ghosts about them, he wouldn’t have had to worry, but they probably would have told him not to be stupid, which is probably why he didn’t ask. No wonder he was upset when you got back, if he thought he was losing so many things – sleeping on top of you, sitting on your lap, having his hair played with, being held. He names gesture after gesture as you untangle his hair, and you reassure him about each one.

Once you’ve worked through all the knots, you move on to washing Tomura’s hair in earnest. You don’t think you’re doing a very good job, but when your fingers slow their progress, Tomura complains in a voice that sounds distinctly sleepy. “Don’t. It’s nice.”

You add conditioner, too. Tomura probably won’t bother with it in the future, but you might as well give him soft hair while you can get away with it. Then you shake him out of relaxation and help him to his feet to wash off. He’s sort of floppy when he’s tired, and although you can already tell that it’ll annoy you sometimes, right now it’s just cute. There’s no way you’re telling him he’s cute. You hand him a sponge and some soap and put him in charge of washing his front. You’ll take care of his back.

The fight left Tomura beaten up all over, but his back took a lot of damage while he was caught between the living world and the world between, and it’s where the majority of his stitches are. Even looking at them upsets you. You can’t help but think that if you’d been faster to get to him, if you’d been stronger, if you’d called the others to help you instead of waiting for them to come on their own, he wouldn’t have spent so long trapped between worlds. He wouldn’t have been hurt like this. But that’s only the last set of mistakes you made. If you’d killed his conjurer like you meant to, he’d still be a ghost, and there’d be no marks on him at all.

“Hey.” Tomura glances over his shoulder at you, and you realize that your hands have gone still. You duck closer, hiding your face, and go back to washing, but Tomura’s not fooled. You keep forgetting, somehow, that he knows you as well as you know him. “Don’t make that face. You’re just a human. What were you supposed to do?”

“Kill him.” Your voice wavers. “So you could be human because you wanted to. Not because you didn’t have a choice.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tomura says. He turns to face you, and when you don’t look up, his hand rises to hold your jaw and tilt it upward. “If I was just doing it to avoid going back, it wouldn’t have worked. I wanted to be like this.”

You know that, but – “I wish I hadn’t let you get hurt.”

“Yeah, and I wish I hadn’t let my conjurer torture you.” Tomura gives you a few seconds of protesting that characterization of events before he springs his trap. “See how dumb it sounds when I say it? It sounds dumber from you, since you’re the human and it wasn’t even your job. You told me the stupid plan the others had. You were never supposed to do it.”

He pauses for a moment. “I guess it would have worked if I’d been materialized, though. Dabi saw you stab him. He said it was kind of hot.”

Your mind goes sort of blank at the sheer weirdness of that statement. “And he’s still alive because?”

“I can kill him whenever I want to,” Tomura says. He turns away again, and you go back to washing off the unstitched parts of his skin, shaking your head in bemusement. “I bet it was really hot.”

Tomura thinks the fact that you ran his conjurer through with a fire poker is hot. That’s probably a good thing, because you’re not sorry you did it. You rest your forehead against the back of his neck for a second, resisting the urge to kiss him, and note that his pale skin is turning pink and flushed from the water. The water’s not that warm. You should probably get him out of here sooner rather than later. Inko warned you that newly embodied ghosts aren’t aware of the physical sensations that proceed things like throwing up or passing out, and you’d really prefer for Tomura not to faint in here.

Tomura complains about having to get out, but you remind him that showering is something humans have to do regularly and shoo him out anyway. You stay in a little longer to wash up, then step out into a mildly steamy bathroom. For a moment you’re cast back into the memory of the first time you saw Tomura face to face – in this bathroom, outlined by the steam, looking you up and down with a smile you couldn’t identify as creepy or not. Thinking about it now, you know it wasn’t creepy. He was proud of himself for figuring out how to make himself visible, proud that you could see him at last. Standing here more than a year later, it’s hard to believe how much has changed.

There are puddles of water down the hall on the way to the bedroom, evidence that while Tomura’s figured out showering, he hasn’t figured out drying off. When you step into your room, you find more evidence in the form of a pile of wet clothes discarded on the ground. Jin’s mom said that the ghosts have to learn by experience sometimes. You glance towards the bed and find Tomura sitting on it, dressed in a pair of pink sweatpants of unknown provenance and – “Um, is that my shirt?”

“Yeah.” Tomura gives you that dumbest-person-ever look. You’re not thrilled to see that it’s survived his embodiment. “It was right there. It fits.”

You buy your pajama shirts almost comically oversized, and Tomura’s not all that much taller than you. Something that’s huge on you is still pretty big on him. It fits, but it’s the principle of the thing. “Didn’t the others give you clothes?”

“Yeah. They didn’t smell right.” Tomura pulls the collar of the shirt up over his nose and mouth and breathes in. “This one smells like you.”

You were never into stealing your boyfriend’s hoodies, back when you had human boyfriends. You don’t love wearing other people’s clothes. But apparently there has to be at least one clothing thief in every relationship, and Tomura’s taken over the role. Tomura yawns so widely that his jaw pops, then recoils. “What was that? Why did I do that?”

“That’s a yawn. You’re tired.” You were thinking about street clothes, but just like you did the last time you and Tomura were in this room together, you opt for pajamas instead. “I could go for a nap, too.”

You climb into bed on your usual side, leaving the door cracked open for Phantom in case she comes up, and Tomura gets awkwardly into bed on the other side. “How do I do it?”

“Do what?”

“Sleep.”

Right – he’s spent the last week either in an induced coma or heavily sedated. He hasn’t had the chance yet to fall asleep naturally. “Get comfortable,” you say, and Tomura, semi-predictably, abandons his side of the bed in favor of getting in your personal space. “Now close your eyes. You’re tired, so I bet your eyelids feel kind of heavy, right? Let them close. Think about stuff if you want to think about it, or don’t think about anything. It’ll happen on its own.”

“That sounds too easy,” Tomura mumbles, half-asleep already. “Sometimes it takes you forever.”

“Sometimes it’s harder than others,” you admit. “It’s pretty easy right now. Just relax.”

Tomura mumbles something else, but you can feel the tension leaving his body, until he’s relaxed save for the icy thread of ghostly power running through him. It’s faint, but you have the sense that that’s illusory, at least a little bit. Tomura might be permanently embodied now, but he’s the most powerful of the embodied ghosts, and probably still the least human. He can’t dematerialize anymore and he needs to eat and sleep, but it feels likely that the effect of his powers on your daily life won’t change too much.

But you can figure that out later. Right now he’s asleep next to you, his red eyes closed, his lips parted slightly, warm and breathing and undeniably alive. The same kind of alive as you are, finally. For good.

You shift a little closer to him, and his arm wraps around you tightly. That’s fine with you. You close your eyes and fall asleep almost as fast as he did.

When you wake up, it’s to the sound of your phone buzzing, startling you out of a nightmare. You have all kinds of material for nightmares now, and your subconscious has been mixing and matching it in increasingly horrible combinations for the last few nights – or afternoons, since you can tell by the light coming through the window that sunset is a ways off. You reach for your phone, desperate for a distraction, and Tomura’s arms tighten around you. He sounds like he’s mostly asleep when he speaks. “No.”

“I’m not leaving,” you say. You get ahold of your phone and flip it to silent before reading the texts. They’re from Shinsou.

Shinsou: are u guys coming or not

Shinsou: everybody else is

Shinsou: Eri says you have to or she’ll cry

Shinsou: she says Tomura promised

She mentioned something about that earlier. You shake Tomura’s shoulder. “Did you promise Eri you’d come to the party?”

“No.” There’s a pause. “She wouldn’t leave until I said yes.”

Great. “How much do you care about making her cry?”

“I don’t care,” Tomura mumbles. You wait. “She backed me up in the fight. I owe her.”

“So we have to go,” you realize. The idea is less upsetting to you now than it was when you first heard about it, namely because you just had a nightmare and you don’t want to go back to bed. You text Shinsou back. Your dad said it’s a costume party. Do we have to have costumes?

Yeah. Shinsou sends a shrugging emoji. Not serious ones. One of my dads is going all out and the other one just has cat ears on.

Aizawa can get away with just cat ears – he’s the one hosting the party. You and Tomura are going to have to come up with something a little better. Shinsou texts again. It starts in an hour. Be there. You really don’t want Eri to cry.

You’d feel really bad making Eri cry, especially now that you remember her helping Tomura during the fight – and saving your life just beforehand. You start to sit up, and Tomura drags you back down. “No. I like sleeping. I want to sleep.”

“Humans sleep every night,” you remind him. “You can go back to sleep later. Right now we have to go to a party.”

It takes a while to drag Tomura out of bed – twenty minutes at least, leaving you with forty minutes to come up with some kind of costume. You get in your own way a little bit when you realize how cute Tomura looks with bedhead, then order yourself to pull it together. Tomura can’t shadow you as closely as he did when he could dematerialize, but he still gives it his best shot, and you two end up colliding and tripping on each other – and on Phantom – way more than is actually necessary. After ransacking your house for costume ideas and coming up with nothing, you finally turn to Google for help.

Tomura reads over your shoulder. “These are dumb. I thought Halloween was supposed to be scary.”

“It is,” you say. You decide to get into the part of Halloween that’s supposed to be sexy later – later, as in next year. Or never. “This is the wrong neighborhood for scary, though. No matter what I dress up as, I won’t be scarier than everybody else who lives here.”

And that’s when it clicks for you, oddly enough – it clicks, and you can’t help but laugh. The perfect low-effort Halloween costume. How did you not think of it before? Tomura eyes you suspiciously. “Why are you laughing?”

“I have an idea. It might get us kicked out.”

“If we get kicked out, we can come back and go to sleep again,” Tomura says. Introducing Tomura to the concept of naptime may have been a mistake. “What is it?”

You head for the stairs, and the linen closet. “You’ll see.”

It takes you approximately two seconds to assemble the first costume, and once you do, you show Tomura. It occurs to you way too late that he might think it’s offensive. But once he realizes what you are, he cracks up laughing – then wincing, as the laughter strains the stitches on his back. “They’re going to hate it,” he says. “I bet they won’t even let us in.”

“If they don’t let us in, then we get to go home right away.” You gesture at the linen closet. “Pick your poison.”

It takes you a few more minutes to leave, mostly because Tomura insists on bringing Phantom, and Phantom needs a costume, too. She’s a lot less into her costume than you and Tomura are. She keeps wiggling out of it, and while Tomura tries to lure her back under the sheet, you peer out the front window. The street still looks like hell. Everybody’s houses are still at least partially wrecked. If you drove past this neighborhood, not knowing anything about who lives here and why this happened, you’d avoid it like the plague.

You watch as Keigo and Dabi and Natsu leave their house. Natsu looks like he’s wearing normal clothes, but Keigo has a fake halo and Dabi has a pair of devil horns on. It occurs to you that Dabi might be the only other person in the neighborhood who thinks your costume is funny.

“I got her to wear it,” Tomura says, and you turn to look. There’s Phantom, wearing a flower-patterned pillowcase with holes cut out for her ears, eyes, and nose – and there’s Tomura, wearing a grey sheet over her head with holes cut out so he can see. “I think she’s mad at me.”

“She’s not mad,” you say. You’re pretty sure she’ll forgive you both when she realizes you’re headed over to Aizawa’s house. Shinsou is probably her favorite person other than Tomura. “You look pretty.”

Tomura gives you a once-over. Your sheet is lavender, and you accessorized with a pair of reading glasses you accidentally stole from Mr. Yagi’s office and never gave back. “Cute,” he decides. “The sooner they kick us out, the sooner we can come back.”

He heads for the door, opens it, and steps outside. You gather up Phantom’s leash and follow him onto the porch. When you turn to lock the door, Tomura stops you. His eyes crinkle at the corners, the way they do when he’s smiling creepily on purpose. “Don’t bother,” he says. “This neighborhood is still mine.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” You tuck your keys back into your pocket and make your way down the front steps, to the front gate, and out onto the sidewalk. It’s not until you hear the gate’s hinges creak open again that you realize Tomura hasn’t followed you. You turn back. “Tomura?”

Tomura’s hesitating on the far side of the property line. You can’t figure out why. He’s left before. He was away from the house for five days – but not by choice. The ambulance took him away and the other ghosts brought him back, but in all the time since he was summoned, Tomura’s never left the property of his own free will. You hold out the hand that isn’t grasping Phantom’s leash, and he comes closer to take it. His hand is warm.

Warm, and a little sweaty. He’s nervous. “We don’t have to go to this thing,” you tell him. “You just got home today. It’s a lot. If you’d rather stay home, we can.”

“You want to go.”

“I think it might be fun.” Mostly you want to see what Hizashi does when you roll up to his party dressed like the world’s most stereotypical, low-budget ghost. “But I still like it’s best when it’s just us. If you don’t want to go, we won’t. I’m not leaving you.”

“Because you love me,” Tomura says, almost hesitantly. You nod. “I love you, too.”

It’s a good thing you’ve got the sheet on. You’re not sure you want Tomura to see the goofy smile you’re wearing. Tomura raises his free hand and touches your mouth through the sheet, feeling along the curve of it until you dare to kiss the tips of his fingers. He startles, and you remember the touch sensitivity. It’s fine when he’s the one initiating contact, since he’s the one who decides what he can handle, but you need to be careful. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tomura says. He kisses you.

It’s not a great kiss, given that there are two layers of cotton between your mouth and his, but you’ll take it. You’ve always been willing to take what you can get from Tomura, and you’ve gotten more than you ever expected. It came at a price, sure. You’ll be paying that price in one way and another for the rest of your life, but it’s worth it. It would be worth it if Tomura never crossed the property line again.

But Tomura draws away from you without letting go of your hand and steps forward. You step back to give him space, and watch as he sets one foot over the line and onto the sidewalk, and then the other. And all at once, for the first time in a hundred and ten years, there’s nothing wrong with your house at all.

The End

#lovhalloweenhorror #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #shigaraki tomura #ghost story #loser nerd ghost boyfriend

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not-goldy · 10 months ago

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Jikook both same place Artillery confirmed. They won't be with Jin, but they together, are going to the same place. Why do antis even question jikook and the buddy system at this point? It was the whole fucking point. They did this cause they wanted to serve together until discharge and they will and its why they enlisted as companions. Did people really think they were gonna go seperate ways after a month? You might as well had enlisted alone then and not waste time going through a process. Antis don't get that tho. Jimin even told y'all today get off their dick, he and Jk are together and still gonna be together for 17 months.

I don't blame them, their ship gurus told them, "don't you worry, it's just for the training. They will be placed in separate camps later or Jk might even end up joining Tae" 😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹

It's them eating it up for me 😹😹😹😹

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seoul-bros · 5 months ago

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News from Jin’s World

Jin is moving quietly but he is busy busy busy.

He topped the Individual Idol Brand Rankings for June 2024. JK, Jimin, J-Hope and V also made the top ten (aren't those guys in the military?????)

He's met up with Chef Lee Yeonbok who posted on his IG. "Our first meeting after BTS Seokjin's discharge. Really handsome. He's polite and fun, and it's always a joy(delightful) whenever I meet him. Seems like he has lots of activities he is engaged in after discharge, so plz take care of your health"

He's been recording the variety show, 'It's Good to Get a Good Rest"

..and Jin being a torch bearer for the 2024 Paris Olympics was not something I could have vaguely predicted. We get to see Jin in Europe so soon after his discharge from the army. NIIICCCEEEEE!

Finally we are getting clues that Jin may soon be announced as an ambassador for Gucci. They delivered gifts to his fan meet and included an astronaut in their latest ads.

News today that Jin was spotted with a Gucci backpack on his way to Jeju Island. The man is getting all his ducks in a row and he will burst back on the scene with a new song maybe as early as August after Jimin's Muse promo wraps up.

Post Date: 02/07/2024

#kim seokjin #jin #jin x gucci #jin torch bearer #jin x paris olympics #jin x it's good to get a good rest

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jmdbjk · 3 months ago

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No hurricanes.

We have 4 days left in August but it looks like there will be no hurricanes for us. We are typically waiting for one to arrive about this time every August. Definitely a welcome calm because there was already too much shit packed into this past month as it was so thank you to Mother Nature for not adding that extra layer of a shit show.

That being said, there is always next week for a hurricane. We wait. In the meantime, Episode 5 of Are You Sure? drops after I go to sleep tomorrow night.

Namjoon has been active on his IG account, he just tweaked his bio, changing the title "right place, wrong person" to all lowercase. We are holding the ship on a steady course, Captain. Seas are rough but we see the signals.

In case you didn't know, Miss Karma came back from her vacation. As of today, Min Hee Jin has been terminated as CEO of Ador.

She is being given the choice of remaining as director/producer for NewJeans but all of her stock options and whatever went poof. Good luck bitch, fighting your sexual harassment lawsuits without your CEO salary or perks. On your way out, please fumigate your office and leave the keys with the security team.

In other news, Billboard executives meeting this week to discuss major changes to Billboard Hot 100 and minor changes to Billboard 200. Can't wait to hear what this new round of fresh hell will be.

Also, Billboard having an event in Seoul to fiNd ThE nExT BTS!

Ya know... after all this time... how has no one ever realized its not the NEXT BTS anyone needs to be searching for? Yes, to the part about finding an authentic artist who can craft their own (really good) songs with lyrics that resonate. But the real key they need to find is...

... the next FANDOM that is like Army. Globally diverse from different walks of life including young, old and in-between. Loyal, loving, smart, organized, even if at times we seem to struggle to come together.

If an artist can cultivate a relationship with their fandom which consists of mutual respect and trust between them only THEN can the artist do anything, be anything, even untouchable. Hasn't anyone been listening at all? BTS has been saying for years they couldn't do anything... wouldn't be where they are... would have no reason to exist WITHOUT ARMY.

Seriously shaking my damn head. No one listens. No one.

Some other random things that are constantly doing a hit n'run inside my head...

I hope Jimin’s time with Dior menswear is finished because good lawd that shit is fugly. No. Just no:

It looks like an outfit they would be forced to wear as a penalty for losing a Run BTS game. Isn't that the same way Koreans tie up what they call a "lamb head" towel around their head to go in the public baths?

I haven’t talked about Jin at all this month. Shame on me.

He's been very very busy endearing himself not only to Army but to middle-aged men, women, kids, moms, future spouses, actors, idols, foodies, gamers, fishermen, grandmas, grandpas, the world.

Hobi will be coming home in 49(?) days!

Jimin and Jungkook are sending off their fellow soldiers with autographs as they are discharged. I guess it is somewhat comforting to read these simple messages they write to their departing comrades. It's all we have for now. I hope they are doing ok way out there in the boonies. 9 months and 15 days left.

#this was like dumping a pile of odds and ends out of my brain #burning an effigy of MHJ in my imagination #i really dislike her...good riddance #are you sure?#yes i'm sure #jungkook will be 27 this sunday #i hope they are doing ok way out there #jimin #jungkook #namjoon #jin #hobi #hoping miss karma has other things lined up on her agenda

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jellifysh · 2 years ago

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Fake Love (part 2)

Or, Your Boyfriends Are Always There for You, and Always Have Been. Right?

OT7 x reader (soft yandere! bts x reader, amnesia au, heavy manipulation, dark fluff, the boys love you they’re just insane about it, ur family sucks sorry, more mentions of injuries and hospitals, I don’t actually know how hospitals works so I’m making this all up <3)

A/N: dam I really went three months w/o updating that’s crazy omggg y’all I’m so sorry,, I had the planning for this just sitting here for months but I’m actually not sure where I’m going with this story imma be fr,, it’s gonna be a happy ending and morally grey (as all my stories tend to be for some reason) but for the most part it’s just gonna be fluff :) enjoy <333

You floated on the edge of consciousness, feeing hands stroking through your hair. Stretching out your body, slowly “So beautiful.” A voice said, hush as a strand of hair was brushed back from your face. You shifted a little, then blinked open your eyes, shutting them again as the sun hit them too soon.

“Aw, too bright? I’ll close them, darling, don’t worry.” Jin cooed, moving to close the curtains securely. You sat up slowly, their eyes on you as you got your bearings, slowly blinking and rubbing sleep off your face, then laughing to yourself in disbelief as you looked around. The members had gathered in various spots around your bed, Jungkook was playing with your hair, Jimin had been brushing a hand across your cheek, and the rest gazed at you, fondness in your eyes. You wondered how many time you had woken up like this in the past—well, minus the hospital bed.

“I almost thought you all were a dream.” You quietly admitted, awe creeping into your sleepy tone.

“Not a dream, nabi. This is real.” Taehyung said, a bit of awestruckness in his voice as well, leaning down to link pinkies with you. You giggled, wrapping your pinky around his tightly, marveling at the way your hands seemed to fit so well together.

“And we got you a present.” Namjoon smiled, holding a bag out to you. Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you took it with the hand not holding Taehyung’s, looking around at all of them for a clue to what was inside. “Just open it, love.” He chided, gently. You stuck your hand inside, reaching past tissue paper and pulling out a sleek, rectangular device.

“It’s a new phone!” Jin cheered from his spot on the right of your bedside. “And we set it up for you already, just to make sure you wouldn’t have any extra stress.” You examined the phone, holding the weight in your hand without turning it on yet, getting used to the new features.

“Wow, this is, I mean, this has to be the latest model, I can’t have this.” You shook your head, their generosity almost overwhelming. You knew from experience that phones like this were not cheap. Even if they were one of the most famous groups in the world, they didn’t need to spend their wealth on you. You placed it back in the bag, holding it back out to them, though none of them moved to take it from you.

It was Yoongi that spoke up then, warmth and intensity swimming in his deep eyes as he looked directly into yours. “You can have that and so much more.” He said, no sign of humor in his tone as he insisted. “We want to treat you, please, please let us.” You looked at him, half-surprised by the honesty and half-touched, your arm slowly pulling the bag back as you realized he really meant it, the rest of their faces reflecting the same seriousness.

“I don’t even know what to say. I— Thank you.” You finally said, looking down at the phone again to avoid their intense gazes.

“Don’t thank us yet. We are far from done.” Hoseok smiled brightly, and as you looked up, smiling back, the room felt lighter.

“We spoke to the doctors while you were asleep,” Namjoon started, “They want to keep you for a bit more monitoring for today, just to make sure everything’s in order before they release you, but you’ll be discharged by the end of the day. We can drive you back your apartment and you can settle back in at home. But…” his sentence drifted off as he cast a worried look towards the window.

“But what?” You asked, starting to get concerned yourself, siting up a bit straighter in your bed.

“Well,” Namjoon continued, tone full of weariness. “We can’t stay much longer, love. We have to be back in Korea soon, we dropped everything to come to you but, we have a lot planned that we have to start on real soon. If you stay here, we can’t stay and help you recover. Do you have anyone to stay with you?”

You probably didn’t, you realized slowly, almost deflating at the thought of it. In the few days you’ve been in the hospital only they came to visit you. And if you’re on the same terms with your family as you used to be, they likely won’t want to care for you. You could get some sort of stay at home nurse, or stay in the hospital to be taken care of, but that would be money. Money you didn’t have.

“I don’t… I don’t know. I’d need to make some calls.” You responded weakly, mindlessly moving your hand to fully hold Taehyung’s, not noticing the way his face brightened. “When do you leave?”

“At most, in four days.” Jimin replied despondently.

“Four?” You repeated in shock. “But that’s so soon.”

They nodded solemnly, letting you think it over in silence. You took a moment to think with the new information, trying to ignore the way your heart sank at the thought of them leaving. Did you want them to stay? It’d be weird wouldn’t it? Latching on so quickly to them when you don’t really know them? But you do, you reminded yourself. They wouldn’t be here if you didn’t mean something to them. Surely you can trust them?

Jin broke the silence, his hand gently caressing your leg that wasn’t in a cast. “Let’s not think about it now, hmm? No reason to stress.” He suggested with a warm smile. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

You shook your head no, expression clearing up as you chose to forget for a moment.

“Then we’ll get you something to eat, and you can have the whole day to think. How about that?” Hoseok asked, and you nodded.

“I am kind of hungry.” You agreed, though that was an understatement. You were starving, you were thirsty, you were exhausted although all you did was lay down, and you just wanted to be out of the hospital already.

Jimin perked up, moving towards the door. “I’ll get you some food, pretty, don’t even worry about it.” He said, brimming with excitement as he exited.

Taehyung rushed after him, a competitive fire lit behind his eyes. “I’ll get you better food!”

Jungkook shot up from his seat, hastily putting on his jacket, rushing to the door as well. “I’ll get all your favorites, noona!”

And with that, they left in a whirlwind and Namjoon sighed, a tired smile on his face as he turned to you. “I should probably go with them.” You nodded, understanding, and he exited as well, waving at you as he left.

“Now,” Hoseok announced as the room quieted. “Let’s show our princess how to use her new phone!” He cheered, him and Jin excitedly raving about all the cool features of the phone and stuff you could do with it and Yoongi chided them to give you some space.

—

After the other boys returned with way more food than you could possibly eat in one day—Jungkook was right, he did get you all your favorites— and did a lot more laughing than was probably safe for you to do with bandages wrapped around your ribs, you felt the mood of the room slowly winding down, the boys exchanging glances as Namjoon kept texting someone frantically on his phone.

“Is everything alright?” You asked hesitantly, but by the look Namjoon gave you, you could already tell it wasn’t.

“I’m sorry, love, we have to go.” Namjoon replied. He had slipped into calling you love today and as you heard it more, you minded it less and less. Maybe it’s because it’s what he used to call you? A part of your mind must remember being with them, it was too easy with them, after all, they knew too much about you.

“Do we have to?” Jungkook whined and Namjoon frowned, nodding at him.

“The company wants to speak with us immediately over the phone about… our plans going forward.” He said, casting a glance to you out of the corner of his eye.

“We can’t leave her alone.” Yoongi argued.

“One of us should stay with her. I volunteer.” Taehyung stood up, only to get pushed back into his seat.

“You sit down.” Jin playfully scolded. “I’ll stay with her.”

“No fair!”

“Hush, I’m older than you.”

“You sure, hyung?” Namjoon asked, standing as everyone began to gather their things.

“I’m sure we’ll be alright. I’ll have her discharged and drive her to her apartment.” Jin turned to you. “If that’s alright with you?”

You twiddled your thumbs, a feeling of numbness coming over you at the thought of them leaving. “Um, sure. Can’t stay in the hospital forever, I guess.”

After that it was a blur of events, the boys all went to the front desk with you to check out and escorted you to the car in your brand new wheelchair. You tried to cheer yourself up mentally, but the heavy cast on your leg and the layers and layers of bandages on your arms and ribs made it hard to stay optimistic.

You were lifted into the car by Jungkook, the boys all fussing over you as they helped you with your seatbelt and getting comfortable in the chair. As you tuned out their squabbling, you found yourself shaking at the thought of being in a car again after your last accident. You blinked, then blinked again, the feeling of a car quickly accelerating, then even more quickly stopping as the feeling of slamming into something and flying through the air filled your body and you were breathing heavy, hard, and fast and—

“Y/N?”

You gasped, eyes fluttering open. You were still in the parking lot. The car hadn’t even started moving. You looked around at their concerned faces. You floundered for something to say, settling on, “Sorry, I’m just… a bit tired, I guess.”

They exchanged a long look with each other that you tried to ignore, not wanting to know if they pity you. “Of course, I’ll make sure you rest once you’re home.” Jin replied.

“Don’t worry, noona, we’ll be back with you soon. Just relax and enjoy being home again.” Jungkook said, trying to force a positive tone but you could hear the worry.

“Thanks, I’ll try.” You smiled, sure it looked stained, and they closed the door, Jin pulling out of the parking lot and driving to your apartment almost on autopilot, him not once asking you where you lived.

You looked out the window as he drove. You recognized certain parts of the city of course, places you’d been all your life, but when he turned down the street to your apartment building and parked in the lot, you had no recollection of ever being there.

“Is this… where I live?”

Jin smiled at you, brief and sad. “Yeah, we figured you may not remember it. You only moved here about a year ago.”

You sighed, frustrated with not knowing anything, staring up at the tall building through the windshield.“How are we supposed to get in if I don’t even remember living here?”

You heard a jingle to your left, looking over at Jin as he held up a key ring. “That’s what I’m here for, jagi. You gave us a spare key in case we were ever in town.” He chuckled, looking wistfully at the apartment as if gazing upon a memory. “I remember you were so excited to move in here. You danced around your room all night, it was adorable.”

You laughed, “Yup, that sounds like me alright.”

Jin looked over at you, and you looked back at him, stupid smiles on both your faces. You sat in the calm quiet moment, basking in the peace you felt with him as warmth filled your chest. Jin spoke quietly, gently breaking the moment. “I’ll help you into your chair.

Entering the actual apartment was strange. It was familiar and warm but at the same time, you remembered nothing about the actual layout. You remember your furniture—the couch you dragged from your mom’s house to every apartment you had ever lived in, the throw pillows you’d had since you were a teenager, the Polaroids you’ve taken of yourself in cool locations and posters of your favorite bands, BTS included— but memories of living there were gone.

“This poster’s always been my favorite.” Jin commented, and you turned your head to see him standing next a poster of himself, copying the pose he was making in the photo.

You chuckled, “I pulled that from an album, I forget which one.”

“Wings,” he replied automatically. You turned to look at him, suprised how quickly he answered, and he continued, “I remember my hairstyle.” He joked, making you giggle.

You continued looking around, noticing dishes in the sink, clothes on the floor, a laundry basket next to the machine overflowing with clothes. “I left this place such a mess.”

“Don’t you worry about that, I’ll clean up for you. Here lemme help you lie down and rest.”

Jin helped into your bed, the unfamiliar object conforming to your body perfectly, and you snuggled up against the blankets, almost comfortable enough to ignore the rigid cast on your leg. After that, he began fretting over the apartment, picking up and arranging things, folding clothes, and moving into the rest of the apartment to wash laundry, dishes and pick up the living room.

Brushing past the disbelief that international superstar Kim Seok Jin was cleaning up your living room, you used the free time to acclimate to your new phone.

Tapping the screen to turn it on, you were greeted with a wallpaper of Jimin, Tae and Jungkook making funny faces at the camera, as well as about 20 new messages from a group chat with the members that you had already been added to. You smiled to yourself, but skipped past talking to them just yet, familiarizing yourself with the functions and settings.

After a while, you started to set up your email, having to reset your password to get in, and find out what you missed in the short time you had been away and maybe get a hint of what you were doing before. Once you finally managed to get in, you were met with a bunch of emails from your landlord on being behind on your rent, and an email from your job to tell you that you had been terminated. Looking over the contact information in the email, you dialed the number to try and bargain for your job.

“I just don’t understand, if I worked for you I must have some paid time off, or maybe even some sort of medical exemption, I mean, I can give you hospital bill, I swear I was just incapacitated— I didn’t even know I had this job until today, this isn’t fair.” You pleaded.

The voice over the phone repeated the same thing they had been telling you for the last five minutes. “I’m sorry, Ms.L/n but we can’t make an exception, you didn’t show up for three days in a row and no one informed us of why and you being injured and having lost your memory makes us even less inclined to hire you back. Thank you for your work with us but we can’t hire you back.”

You stammered, “You can’t make a single exception? I can relearn—I can work for a couple weeks without pay, I just— as far as I know, this is my only job, this is what I depend on.”

The person over the phone seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering resolutely. “I’m sorry again, I— we can’t hire you again. Have a good day.”

And with that the line went dead. You huffed, getting the contact information for your landlord to see if there some way you could hold off on paying rent until you had a better financial standing, hoping for better luck.

“I’m so sorry to hear that you had been in the hospital, honey, but I still need my money and I really don’t think you’re in any place to give it to me.” The landlord stated, unyielding in her decision.

“I… could figure something out…” you protested weakly, unsure of how exactly you would do that.

“You’re a lovely person and you’ve been a great tenant, but you’ve been behind on your payments too many times and this is my last straw, I’m sorry. I’m evicting you if you can’t pay this months rent.”

“What? I— what if what to break the lease? Can I just move out?”

“You still have to pay this month’s rent, and the two months still left in your lease.”

You sighed, heavy and weary. “I… I understand, I’ll call you back when I figure something out.”

“Okay, have a good day.”

“As if anyone could ever have a good day after news like that.” You muttered to yourself. You sat there, thinking to yourself for a moment with your finger hovering over the contacts, before hesitantly clicking it. The boys hadn’t added your mothers number, and there was probably a good reason—last you remember you weren’t on good terms and you doubt that changed, but you figured you may as well check in. If the boys were leaving soon you needed to know if someone could take care of you, and your mom was your last hope. You knew her number by heart, not that she ever really picked up half the time.

After three rings, the line picked up. “Hello?” An annoyed voice asked.

“Hi, mom, I—“

“You again? Listen, whatever crazy story you have to tell me now, I’m sick of it. You’ve always been an attention seeker and I’m done with you. First, you tell me your angel of a sister is ‘horrible�� to you, then you say you’re ‘too stressed’ at school in the career you chose, then you make up some crazy story about people following you. What do you want me to do? I’m one person, not your therapist!”

“I— I just called to say I got into a car accident and I’m in a cast—“

“Oh really?” She replied skeptically.

You felt frustrated enough to cry. “Yes, why don’t you ever believe me? I need someone to take care of me and I cant—“

“You’ll be fine, stop whining to me you’re a grown woman, I finished raising after you turned 18, now for once in your life, act your age.” She spat out, hanging up before you could get another word in.

As you sat in the silence, the only sounds coming from the gentle clinking of dishes in the kitchen, you fought the urge to laugh. What were you thinking calling your mother? As if she’d ever care about you. As if she’d listened to a thing you ever said. She hates your guts and at this point you hated hers. Nothing in your life ever managed to go right. As you buried your face in your hands, images began to flash behind your eyes. A tall building, getting out the passenger seat of an unfamiliar car, bringing a tray of coffee to someone, smiling, laughing, sitting at a desk.

You gasped, opening your eyes, and frantically wiping the tears away. Work, you remembered, those were memories of work. You… were an assistant to… someone? You closed your eyes again trying to focus on the fleeting memories but to no avail, nothing but glimpses and fogginess filled your mind. You huffed, frustrated yet again. It seemed like you’d always been frustrated but now yet with all of it hitting you full force, you just wanted to curl up in your blankets and cry for hours.

A knock on your open door showed Jin pushing inside your room with a basket of freshly dried laundry. “Your clothes are so cute, I—“ he halted, noticing the distress in your body language. “Jagi, what happened?” He asked, moving to your side and placing the clothes basket down next to your dresser.

“I’m just stressed.” You sniffed pathetically, not knowing what else to say.

“What do you mean? Why are you stressed?” Jin asked, starting to fold up the clothes neatly and place them in the drawers.

“Well, I was on the phone with my job. I had a job before the accident, obviously, I had a whole apartment, but I got fired and was thinking about it and I… remembered.” Jin stopped in his movements, hands frozen in their motion of folding a shirt in half.

“I can’t remember anything else, but I remember I worked at an office as an assistant.” You continued, not noticing the way Jin had gone deathly still. You clasped your hands, staring out the window as you thought. Bits and pieces of carrying coffee, filing paperwork, boring monotonous office life came to your mind, but frustratingly nothing else. Not your boss’s name, not the company you worked at, not even the color of the desk you sat at. “I’m just stressed because there’s so much I don’t remember. The world didn’t stop just because I don’t remember how it used to spin. There’s people expecting me to come to work, to pay my bills, and I don’t even remember who they are! I didn’t even remember you—“ Jin cupped your face, wiping away tears you didn’t realize started falling again.

“Darling, don’t worry about that, none of that matters right now, okay? I want you to focus on recovering and making sure you’re eating and drinking enough.” He paused, hesitantly continuing on to say, “And, if you really want, we can get our people to try and recover any missing information— with your permission of course— just past texts, voicemails, maybe, stuff that might help you… remember.” Jin finished cautiously, looking in your eyes for a sign of approval.

“You would do that for me?” You asked hopefully. At this point, you would take whatever help you could get.

“If it would take a burden off your shoulders, I would do anything.” Jin murmured softly and reassuringly, the warmth in his gaze melting into your bones.

You sighed again, but this time with relief. “That’s be so great. I feel so horrible, I’m basically useless—“

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, darling, we’d be happy to take care of everything you need for the rest of your life if you wanted. If it were up to us, you’d never lift another finger.” He winked, booping your nose as he moved to folding clothes.

“You don’t really mean that. You’d get tired of me eventually.” You argued.

“You don’t know just how much you mean to us, sweetheart. You could stay here forever if you wanted to, or if you wanted we’d get you a nicer place, an island with a private beach even. Anything.” He turned to look at you again, nothing but fondness in his eyes. “You won’t ever stress again if we can help it, I promise. Relax, and we’ll take care of everything for you, okay?”

You sighed, too tired to object. “Okay.” You blinked heavily, a soft smile coming over Jin’s face.

“You tired, honey? Feel free to sleep, I’ll be right here.” He reached over, patting your hand.

You held it, eyes fluttering. “Okay.” You mumbled sleepily. “Don’t leave.”

“Never.” He whispered.

“Jin,” you started.

“Yes?”

“I’ll come with you guys. I’ll go to Korea.”

“Really?”

You nodded, eyes closing, unable to see the satisfied smile that had come over Jin’s face.

—

Taglist: @singukieee @yourleftsock @huni7875 @lovelgirl22 @mooniieix @sld88 @itzz-me-duh @serendididy @fclixbrwns @whipwhoops @ratherbefangirling @skyys-universe @hey-syia @bjoriis @dearly-somber @jcrml @chimmmonnie @tito-the-mermaid @kapten-xouk @totallynoanalien @elraeeee @uarmyhore @ughbandmembersx @forpunishers @azazel-nyx @juju-227592 @mageprincess7 @sweetcheeksdna

#ot7 x reader #bts x reader #bts x y/n #ot7 x yn #poly! bts x reader #fake love #Can you believe the last time I updated this was in October?#crazy #If there’s typos no there’s not

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