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lifeofroos · 4 years ago

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Part 34: Ever seen a god in IKEA?

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, Nico goes to IKEA to fix something, with a special guest. The rest can be found on AO3 and FanFiction.net! Also in Tumblr tags like Nico di Angelo, Trials of Apollo, Pjo, etc. This might be crazy: Chapter 34: Coffee in a cardboard cup ‘Is this sort of like Hephaestus’ workshop?’ My dad looked up at the big, glowing IKEA logo over our heads.

‘Let’s say it sells you the parts to start your own Hephaestus’ workshop at home.’

‘Then why are we here when we could have gone to Hephaestus?’

‘There is a restaurant. Also, most mortals cannot go to Hephaestus’ workshop.’

‘They could in the old days!’

‘These aren’t the old days anymore.’

‘That is no reason to go to a dump like this.’

I sighed. ‘Let's just get inside.’

‘So, what do you need? Let’s be quick, I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary.’

‘We’ll have to follow the route through the entire store. That might take a while.’

Hades threw his hands in the air, which made his robes flutter. I wondered what the mortals saw through the mist. ‘Why?’

‘Store design. Probably a tactic to generate money.’

‘How stupid.’

‘Let’s just go, dad. I know what I want, so we can quickly walk past the bedroom- and kitchendisplays.’

Even though Hades speed walked through the IKEA, pulling me along, it took about fifteen minutes to get to cupboard display. My dad was walking so fast we almost skipped them.

‘How big is this store?’ Hades yelled when I told him to stop. A few people looked at us.

‘Big. Okay, I am going to choose one of these cabinets.’

‘Yes, you will. Why, again?’

I stared at the cabinets in front of me. It needed to be thin and about a metre high. For a second, I wondered whether I should just lie about dads’ question.

‘I wanted to make a memorial for mom. And for Bianca.’ Also Bianca, although I might have mentioned that to soften my intent.

‘...ah.’ He ruffled with his sleeves. ‘Did you already tell me that?’

‘Only in passing,’ I muttered. Not with so many words. It was difficult, okay?

‘Okay, eh, but, I think it is a good idea.’

I looked up and gave him an awkward smile. ‘Yes. Thanks.’ I turned back to the cabinets.

‘I think I want the black one. With the glass window.’

‘Not the white one?’

‘No, that one is thicker, I don’t want that if I can have the other one.’

‘Oh.’ He looked a little confused. ‘Than we’ll take the black one. Can you carry it?’

I turned around. ‘We don’t have to, not yet anyway.’ I looked around. ‘Do you see a dispenser with pencils and paper somewhere?’

‘Paper and pencils? What do you need those for?’

‘We need to write down the number and unpronouncable Swedish name of this cabinet...’

‘Nico, we can just get out of this store. I’ll ask Hephaestus to make you a cabinet.’

I shook my head. ‘I wanted to get it here. Then it feels like I made the cabinet myself without having to cut wood or something.’

‘This is a pre-made cabinet!’

‘It only looks like that.’ Oh, dad, if only you knew. I noticed a pencil dispenser close by and walked towards it. Like a good citizen, I took only four pencils when I could have totally gotten five.

After I had written down the product information, I looked back at my dad, who looked very confused by everything. ‘Now let’s go to the storage room before we buy a bunch of useless stuff.’

‘How long are we going to be in here?’

‘I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes?’

‘I want to get out. And I don’t feel tempted to buy anything at all here, I don’t know why you are afraid we’ll buy useless stuff.’

I was tempted. I wanted to have the fancy black lamp, for example. I had to admit, my father was a good IKEA partner. He stopped me from caving. ‘We’re almost there.’

My father nervously looked around. ‘What even is the storage room?’

‘It is like the Underworld of IKEA. We pick up a box with everything we need to built the cabinet ourselves.’

‘What an...’ He took a pause. ‘...unique concept.’ I looked over my shoulder.

‘Yes, it is.’

‘This is it?’

‘it is.’

‘Also, Nico, I think it is a very good idea.’ I looked up from taking the box of the shelf. Dad was looking at the ground. ‘To make a memorial. I could not do such a thing. It would hurt too much to remember my past.’

I took a second to reply. ‘Yes, I get that.’ He looked like he wanted to say something, but it did not come. Not now, at least.

‘Okay, now we got this… this.’ Hades looked at the box. ‘And now? Somehow it feels like we are still stuck in this prison of interior design.’

‘We can get something to eat at the restaurant. Or something to drink.’

‘Yes, yes, let’s do that. Eh, where do we keep the…’ He narrowed his eyes, while trying to read the Swedish on the side of the box.

‘We’ll just carry the you-know. Come, I want a cup of something.’

The restaurant amazed him even more than the store itself. We sat down at a table next to the window, each with a cardboard cup of coffee. He took a deep breath. ‘I want to say that I might have something you want to put into your shrine,’ he mumbeld.

‘Memorial cabinet.’ I didn’t like to call it a shrine.

‘...Memorial cabinet.’ He shifted into a different position.

I took a sip of my coffee. It tasted like sludge, but it was better than what I had drank at Hephaestus’ place. ‘What then?’

My father snapped his fingers. A picture of my mother appeared out of thin air. ‘This. I kept it for quite some time, but I think...’ He swallowed. ‘...you know, I also learn things from the things you tell me. And I think keeping something like this around isn’t healthy for me? But it might help you.’

I looked at the picture. It was a black-and-white photo of my mother as a young woman. She was wearing a hat, a waistcoat, gloves and a string of pearls. She was smiling widely at whoever was holding the camera.

I smiled back at her. Hades put a and around his cup. He knew he should get rid of it, he just could not get himself to destroy it for good.

I looked up at him. ‘Thanks. I’ll put it into my cabinet.’

‘I know you will.’ He looked out the window, to the people in the parking lot. ‘I still have a locket as well, and a picture of Bianca. You can have those too.’

‘Maybe it can be our memorial.’

‘I think I it has to be your memorial.’

I slowly nodded, while taking a sip of my sludge and trying not to gag.

While we were carrying the cardboard box into the parking lot, I looked up at my dad. My heartrate increased. ‘You said it should be my memorial.’

He immediately knew what I was getting at, probably because he had been thinking about since I told him I wanted to make a memorial. ‘Nico, eh, about Alecto, and the Lethe.’ He lowered the box to the ground. ‘In hindsight...’ he pulled on his sleeve. ‘In hindsight I think that is one of the worst things I have done.’ He looked like he was about to cry. ‘When you and your sister were small, it seemed like a good idea. I wanted to free you two of the weight of being demigods, or at least the weight of having a dead mother. I should have known...’ He moved his hands to the side. ‘...I should have known it does not work that way. That it was absurdly stupid to even think of it.’ He held a hand in front of his eyes. ‘Sorry, Nico. Sorry. If it means absolutely anything, sorry.’

I looked at him. ‘It doesn’t bring my memories back,’ I muttered, ‘But now that I see that you…’ I looked at the ground. ‘It does mean something to me, dad.’

‘Not everything.’

‘Not everything. But something.’

He took a deep breath. ‘Something is good,’ he said. Slowly, he picked up the box again. ‘Let’s get this to...’

‘To camp?’

‘To camp. But next time, you are going to get it made by Hephaestus. Maybe you can even ask Dionysus to request it. Those two go way back.’

Yes, they did. ‘Is that very well known?’

‘Of course it is. You could even say Hephaestus was the first person Dionysus ever helped with his mental issues.’ He sighed.

We brought the box to my cabin via teleportation. Hades forgot to say goodbye. He just left me alone with my box, a few posters for the mental health action me and the Apollo campers had been working on, and Will, who was asleep on my bed.

I laid down next to him. He groaned. ‘Nico?’

‘Who else.’

‘Everything okay?’

‘Yes. I think I might go to Hephaestus in a few days, to talk and to let him make my cabinet more beautiful.’

‘Nice.’ He drifted off to sleep again. Not soon after, so did I.

A/N: the trouble with the world today beyond a doubt, is coffee, in a cardboard cup.

It might be more than just Coffee In A Cardboard cup LMAO. But go listen to that song, it was in the musical ‘And the world goes ‘round.’ I love it, it is my happy song.

Nico and Hades managed to avoid all the ghosts of people who went into IKEA and never got out this time. Be safe, people, don’t let IKEA take your soul. Don’t sell it for meatballs.

Sorry to any Swedish readers. I am sure the words on the side mean something, but I imagine that to an American they look like nothing, that is why I wrote it this way.

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poisxnyouth · 4 years ago

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Journal Entries (& 2 Love Letters)

8/1/20

I feel so free. I feel accepted, and loved, and trusted, and I feel as though everyone in my life has faith in me.

For the most part, I have my friends to thank for these feelings of fulfillment. They’ve transformed me in such a short amount of time, and supplied me with memories that reek of our youth.

But I should also thank God for these things. I should thank Him for placing these people into my life, and maybe I should thank Him for putting my most difficult times ahead of my greatest. I don't think I would have appreciated these cherished moments so greatly.

The best part? I know the best is yet to come. I’m so in love with life right now. Everyone deserves to feel this happy, and if I can have a hand in positively influencing ANYONE’S happiness — I will.

P.S. I pray that God puts [redacted] and I together. I would him with everything I have to offer, but God knows that, and so does [redacted].

8/9/20

I’ve never felt so sure about something before. It feels so surreal. I never thought this type of thing would happen to ME, AT ALL — not this type of unabashed, unafraid, wholly submerged emotions.

In the best way possible, I feel like I’m drowning in him. I feel like his smell is permanently ingrained in me and even when I don't have him immediately on hand, when his smell isn’t present...it still is. I can smell it. That sounds so strange, but it’s comforting. It makes me feel so safe.

He is so wonderful, and is everything I think I’ve ever dreamt of and more. He might be my ideal person. Sometimes, I tell myself that it’s too early to even be thinking about any of this, but...I have such a good feeling about it that I am not all too concerned.

I feel so consumed by it, in the best way possible. Things that aren't my firsts feel like they are; he makes me feel so electric and makes everything feel as though they’ve never been done before. Is this what Madonna was talking about when she wrote Like A Virgin?

And he’s texting me right now about how iconic the word simp is, and I’m sitting here currently hating that we didn't meet sooner.

[Redacted] doesn’t know it, and I’m not sure he ever will, but I feel like I’ve been praying for him for years now.

It feels so silly and juvenile to actually say that, like a little girl confiding in her diary as if it’s her only friend, but it’s very true. I have been praying for this, and maybe unknowingly praying for HIM this entire time.

I cannot believe I’ve only met him four weeks ago. I would follow him into the darkness, and I would give him everything I have, but the best part about [redacted], the part that makes me feel so comfortable and confident about this, is he doesn't want everything I have. He wants me, and he wants everything with me.

Every song is about him, every scene in every TV show or movie is about him, and it feels as though everything which I do now has pieces of him in it. He is wholly taking over my life, making my heart hurt with happiness and love, keeping me up all night, anything else remotely possible, and I wouldn't trade it off for anything in the world. I have never felt so complete, and I want to be able to supply [redacted] with the same sureness that he’s given me. It’s my duty.

8/16/20

[Redacted]...where do I even begin? He is so good for me, and so good to me. Even when I leave him, I can still feel his hands lingering, and the taste of him in my mouth, and the scent of him in my nose.

I said it before and I’ll say it again — he is consuming me. He is on my mind all day, every day, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I never want him to leave my brain.

For a long time, and every time I talked to a guy, there were lingering doubts everywhere I looked. I feel none of those with [redacted].

8/19/20

I feel so encaptured and captivated.

It’s been two and a half hours since I’ve seen him, and I still cannot stop thinking about returning to his hold.

I just feel so irrevocably GRATEFUL for this boy. I want him so bad that it hurts. I can see the world turn in his eyes, and I can feel the blood rushing through his veins whenever I hold or kiss him.

I’ve never spent time with someone where I can pause for a moment and realize that I can feel the love radiating off of them. I can never notice whose heartbeat is who’s (even though it’s probably always his).

Everything about him seems to linger. He’s everywhere, and he’s taking up so much space in my brain. I don’t care, though. I like it this way.

I wish we’d met a year and a half ago, but perhaps things wouldn’t have happened this way if we had. God was waiting on us, I suppose.

There are over a hundred and fifty thousand words in the English language, and I still don’t think I could correctly, and perfectly, string together the most fitting words to describe how I feel about [redacted]. I don’t think I can. I think of [redacted], and a million things run through my brain.

There is so much that I want him to know, and so much that I want him to teach me. I don’t want anyone else to teach him, and I don’t want to be taught by anyone else. He’s my boy now, in my heart and in my soul.

Love Letter #1 (9/2/20)

[Redacted]—

I don’t know if I’m going to give this to you, but I’m writing this to get my shit figured out. Most of it IS figured out, I guess, but I need to organize it.

Nothing is ever guaranteed, and you can’t walk into things expecting them to be. I’m sure you know this. There is a plan for everything, almost always undisclosed, and you always have to respect the outcome. That’s my fundamental belief with anything and everything, so you can see why this is very confusing for me. I don’t WANT to respect this outcome; it hurts too much, and I disagree with it. There is not one part of me that believes our time is up. You were, slowly but surely, changing my perspective on things.

I’m writing this before I know your answer, obviously. I don’t know what it will be. I’m preparing myself for the worst. I don’t even know exactly what that entails.

You were right about potential being the wrong word. The word is future. The future holds nostalgia — it’s delicate, but potent. When I look back in a few decades on the most transformative period of my life, YOU’RE what I want to remember. I don’t want to think back on a break up with unbridled bitterness; I want to think back to your hold, and I want to think back to feeling your heart pound and feeling the blood rush through our veins whenever we kissed. THAT’S what will hold a spot in my heart.

Every time I kiss you, or you kiss me, whatever, it feels like coming home. You feel like home, and if I’m being honest, you have since we met. You feel like home, you taste like home, you smell like home, your laugh sounds like home, seeing you everyday is like home…You’re my home. I can't think of one thing I hate about you. Nothing. I go blank.

But the list of things I love about you is too long for me to list all of them. I won't even attempt to begin, because I wouldn't even know where to start.

I wish you knew what you mean to me. You do, but you don’t. You know that I love you, and you know that I’m yours (for now, I guess, I don’t know), but you don’t know that thinking about you forces my head to begin spinning, in the best way possible. You don’t know that I count the minutes until I can see you again, and you don’t know that it feels like every song is about you. Everything comes back to you. Now you know, I guess.

I’ve written a lot of things about you, and for a while, I kind of thought that I’d run out of things to say. I don’t think I’m ever going to run out of words when I talk about you. There’s always something new.

Everything else feels like background noise when I’m with you. You’re in everything, and you’re home.

I love you so much,

Hailey

Love Letter #2 (9/3/20)

[Redacted]—

I keep thinking about everything and I keep replaying everything in my head. Earlier today, I was lying on Angelina’s floor, face stuffed into her weird carpet, and my thoughts returned to you again. I started thinking about when things first began, and I instantly wanted to write about what I was feeling — just to get it out of my thought process. I couldn't, though, and I hate writing on my phone because it doesn't feel as tangible, so I was forced to let it linger. That fact doesn't bother me; nothing is tainted with anger over resentment. It more so brings thoughts of what I enjoyed and what made me feel alive. When I think of the beginning of things, I remember getting nervous when we ended up sitting next to each other in the car, and I remember my heart racing at our first moment of alone time. I remember my pulse momentarily speeding up when our knuckles brushed in the lamp section at Ikea…(Stupid, I know, but it was a big deal to me.)

#i'll add a read more tomorrow #it's 5am i'm really tired & i'm on mobile #my writing

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solastia · 7 years ago

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Shayde | 1

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 3,388

Genre & Warnings: Angels & Demons AU. There will be a little bit of everything in here.

A/N: Don’t forget that with Y/N type fics, you can use the interactive fics chrome extension to fill it in with a name of your choice.

Summary: Whenever a human is born, they are automatically assigned a guardian angel. And Lucifer, not to be outdone, assigned the child a “guardian demon” as well. Twenty-four years ago, a baby girl was born and was assigned her guardians. Bright, energetic Hoseok as her angel. And Yoongi; a demon so apathetic that guiding her down a bad road was too much work for him. After Guardian Hoseok goes missing, Yoongi and his charge must team up to find their hope.

Nothing had been going right for you in so long.

The skies were gray, food turned to ash in your mouth...OK, maybe you were being a bit dramatic, but it certainly felt that way.

Your life had always been fairly steady and uneventful. You were the youngest child of an average, middle-class family. You made decent enough grades to pass high school and were now studying nursing, a major your father said was more stable than music. You had great friends, a decent apartment, and enough money to satisfy your basic needs.

So why were you suddenly feeling like this?

Realistically, you were aware depression can hit anyone at any time, for any reason. Sometimes even for no reason.

But...this felt...different.

You could even pinpoint the day it started. Six months ago, on a Thursday, at 6:30 am.

You’d gone to bed in your usual cocoon, wrapped in the comforting scents, as a light melody was hummed. When you woke, it was gone.

You see, while it was true that your life was fairly boring and average, there was one thing that was...not so average. One thing that you never told another living soul about, because you knew they would think you were crazy.

For as long as you could remember, you’d never felt like you were alone. Sometimes you’d feel like someone was holding your hand, or softly running a hand through your hair. When you played your precious piano in secret, it felt like someone would guide your hands. A phantom hand would brush up and down your arm, as a melody was hummed to put you to sleep. You’d always gone to bed feeling cocooned in safety and warmth, one side of your bed smelling of citrus and vanilla, the other of spices and coffee.

You’d grown up believing it was ghosts or something. When you reached adulthood, you’d convinced yourself that it must just be some comfort thing left over from childhood. However, not once in your twenty-four years of living could you remember waking up without feeling “Their” presence. Without feeling something play with your hair or tickle you until you woke up. And it wasn’t just the bed that felt empty.

It was you too.

You stare out of your window for the fifth time today. It was a bright, sunny day, and the park that you could see from your apartment was filled with people. Normally, on a day like this, you’d suddenly be filled with the urge to run to the park and dance around, acting silly, and soaking in the rays while you write a new song. After that, you’d go to the cafe on the corner and have not one, not two, but four Americanos in a row. You probably go buy some snacks and go see the new romance film that you’d been waiting for a year for afterward. Instead, you did none of that. You closed the curtains, the only light in the living room from a tiny Ikea lamp, and slumped on the couch, hoping for the sweet oblivion of dreamless sleep.

These days, even getting out of bed was a chore since you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had a good nights sleep. When you weren’t waking up crying from some horrific nightmare, you would just lay there, staring at the ceiling. You’d try to pretend that you could hear the raspy humming of a melody, the sound that had been your nightly lullaby for so long. Instead, all you heard was silence. All you felt was emptiness. All your hope was gone.

Min Yoongi, demon extraordinaire, hated being in hell.

Hell wasn’t the fire and brimstone of legend, it was worse. It was a vast wasteland; a wilderness where souls of the damned were forced to wander with nothing else to do but reflect on their sins for all eternity.

Yoongi was currently using this shitty ass place as a safe space, and he was miserable. There were none of the fluffy comforters and pillows he’d gotten used to. No coffee, no television. He missed his music and his Ikea catalogs. He even missed the stupid overly excited angel and the dumb girl, their charge.

Yoongi and Hoseok had done well with her. She had grown up into a decent human, one that Yoongi hated a little less than the rest. While she gave into Hoseok’s suggestions for sunlight and sappy ass movies too often, she was just as open to Yoongi’s suggestions of coffee binges and playing music in secret. They’d had a good life these past twenty-four years.

Until six months ago.

Yoongi waking up to the cold was the first hint something was wrong. Not an odd occurrence for most, but Yoongi had not dealt with feeling cold since he and Hoseok became guardians together. Since neither the girl nor Yoongi liked being even the slightest bit cold, Hoseok had always used his powers to wrap them all in warmth. Yoongi often joked that Hoseok was the only sunlight he needed

The second hint was when he looked over and only saw Y/N in the bed. They’d all slept in the same bed for years, only not doing so once. When Y/N had turned thirteen, Hoseok had suggested that it might be inappropriate to stay in the bed with her now that she was older. Yoongi hadn’t liked that idea, not wanting to give up his comfy spot on the bed, but he’d agreed and they’d settled on sleeping on the couch so they could still hear her. She’d cried for hours thinking her “Ghosties” had left her. Hoseok had finally relented and they’d gone back to their usual spots. She’d stopped crying and fell asleep minutes later with Yoongi humming some random melody he’d thought of. They hadn’t tried to leave again.

Hoseok was always the first one up, but he never left the bed until he’d forced the other two to wake up. Usually, he’d try to tickle Y/N awake, or mess with her hair. If Yoongi’s influence kept her sleeping, he’d throw open the curtains until the sunlight streaming through their eyelids became unbearable.

This time, Hoseok was nowhere to be found.

Yoongi couldn’t even feel his presence. He could smell hints of citrus and vanilla, the scent of Hoseok, but it was light. He must have been gone for awhile. Where the hell would an angel go, with his charge laying right there?

Yoongi had planted the suggestion to sleep the day away since Y/N didn’t have anything to do. He hoped that would keep her out of trouble while he went angel hunting.

He’d searched the entire town that day, looking through any of the places the angel usually loved to go. He went to the park, the zoo, museums, all the markets. He even searched every dance studio in town, knowing the angel enjoyed watching them. There wasn’t a single trace of Hoseok.

He’d gone back to the apartment and watched for an entire week as the girl had fallen deeper and deeper into a depressive slump. The lack of Hoseok’s influence was taking its toll. Soon, she’d lose all ability to feel good emotions. She’d only be filled with anger and despair. If she was really lucky, she’d simply become apathetic.

Normally, a demon would relish a moment like this, as it would make his job easier. However, besides the fact that he was a rather lazy demon and didn’t like to do work that didn’t interest him, he’d grown rather fond of his human. She was pretty and interesting. Now, she barely even showered or ate. She didn’t smile when he hummed a song for her, never followed when he tried to urge her to play the piano. She had kept cutting all of her classes and sleeping all the time. When the nightmares kept her awake, she would snuggle into the side where Yoongi still slept when he was there, begging with tears in her eyes for him not to leave her too.

After a week of watching her suffer, he’d gone to the underworld for the first time in twenty-four years. He needed to find answers for why an angel would leave his charge. Especially an angel like Hoseok, who had loved and adored his charge, and even declared his love for his Demon counterpart on a daily basis. Someone like Hoseok would never abandon them.

What Yoongi had found out horrified even him. Something out there was killing off Guardians and their charges, and for the first time in the 137 years since he could remember being a demon, he cried a single tear.

He didn’t want the stupid angel to be dead. He couldn’t take care of the girl himself. He didn’t want them to assign a whole new dumbass angel. He’d gotten used to Hoseok, even liked him sometimes.

No, Yoongi had decided, Hoseok wasn’t dead. He loved their human and would fight to stay with her. He was out there, and Yoongi would find him. He’d have to leave the girl’s side to keep her safe since he was sure she wouldn’t be a target with her guardians gone.

That was how Yoongi had found himself in a musty cave in the vast wilderness of the underworld. Down here, he could rest in between his searches, and not have to worry about the Guardian killer coming after him. But he was miserable and lonely. He could still feel Y/N’s presence, so he knew she was alive and probably feeling horrible, but he couldn’t go back to her no matter how much he wanted to.

Yoongi settled back onto his little bed he’d made using leaves and old cloaks he’d found in here, hoping to catch a little nap before he returned to the surface. He had just started to doze off when he felt a sudden burst of emotion. Fear? Yoongi shot up and tried to analyze the source. Was she watching a horror movie? She usually only did that if he forced her. No, it felt stronger now, turning into...pure terror. And just as quickly as it arrived the feeling was gone. As was her presence.

Yoongi couldn’t feel his human.

Pure panic filled him. He had to get to her. Surely she was at home. And just as he prepared to teleport to the apartment, the cave filled with a blindingly white light. Yoongi backed away and tried to cover his eyes, only moving his hand away when the light started to die down.

Before him stood a beautiful man, smiling sweetly at him. He looked gentle and ethereal, with thick black hair and dimples in both cheeks. Yoongi would have thought he was just another angel if he hadn’t felt the pure power emanating from him. The urge to kneel was strong, but he fought it. Min Yoongi kneels for no one.

“Who in the hell are you?” Yoongi snarled.

“That’s funny. Because we’re in hell.” The man threw his head back, laughing softly. He strolled over to a rock and leaned casually against it, eyeing Yoongi up and down.

“If you want to get all technical, my title is God. You can call me Yixing.”

“Right. And I’m Pharaoh Ramesses II. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Yoongi snorts, turning away from the man. He was sure it was just another smart-ass angel, not matter how much power he had. Yoongi had more important things to do.

He tried to teleport to his apartment. Nothing happened.

Ok, maybe if he closed his eyes and concentrated. He was really stressed, so maybe that was messing with his powers.

He peeked an eye open, only to be met with “Yixing” still leaning against a rock, watching with amusement.

“Yoongi, if you’re trying to teleport right now, I turned it off. You can’t leave until I’ve had my say. Don’t worry, Y/N is safe. She had a run in with the killer, I believe. I’ve placed safeguards around her for now. That’s why you can’t feel her. Will you let me talk to you now?”

“You’ll unblock her from me if you do?” Yoongi growled.

“I promise. We just need to talk.”

“Fine. So talk.” Yoongi murmurs as he settles onto his makeshift bed, eyeing the man before him.

“You know, I have to say, it’s quite refreshing seeing a demon be so protective of their charge. Of course, it’s probably because you were never meant to be a demon.” Yixing chuckles, looking at Yoongi with what could only be described as fondness.

“What does that mean?”

Yixing looked at him curiously. “You mean you still don’t remember anything?”

“You’re “God” supposedly. Shouldn’t you know if I know something or not?” Yoongi smirked.

“Fair point. I don’t usually go into the minds of demons, however. Except you on occasion. To see how you’re doing. You see, Yoongi, you used to be an angel.”

“A fucking what?” Yoongi raised his voice in shock, growing more agitated when Yixing starts laughing.

“It doesn’t seem like it now, but it’s true. That’s why you never felt motived to make your charges do anything inherently evil. Because at your core, that’s not who you are. Didn’t you ever wonder why you never wanted to feed off your charges pain? Or why a demon would be so interested in music? And I know you will never admit it, but you love Hoseok and Y/N.”

Yixing had him there, he had to admit. He had always wondered if he was just the laziest demon in the universe, or if there was something wrong with him. He couldn’t even remember very far back. Just one day he...existed.

“You knew Hoseok from before too. There were once seven of you that were very close in the holy choir. Now, there are only three left. Lucifer somehow managed to get a hold of you, something I still haven’t solved the mystery of. I’m not upset with you for that because I know you were protecting someone or something. Hoseok volunteered to be the girl's guardian when he heard you were the assigned demon. I think he missed you most of all and jumped at the chance to see you again, even if you didn’t remember him. Jimin is a fallen angel, by his own choice. And Taehyung...I don’t know. I can’t find him.” Yixing’s eyes started to well with tears. “And now Hoseok is missing. I can’t feel his presence either. How am I supposed to be God when I can’t even protect my own angels?”

“Alright, stop crying. Just get to the point. You need me for something.” Yoongi grumbled, feeling uncomfortable watching Yixing crying. It was worse because this was “God.” How the hell do you comfort God? There, There. Maybe you can create some new angels from rainbows and unicorn farts?

“Sorry.” Yixing sniffled, then went back to smiling brightly at Yoongi. “Where was I? Oh yes. As you are now aware, there have been a series of attacks on guardians. Angels and demons alike are being killed off, or stripped of their grace. Normally, I would be able to stop something like this, or at least send an Archangel to put an end to it. However, whoever is behind all this is powerful enough to block even me from learning who he is. I even had to go to the main level of hell and talk to Ravi about it. You know how embarrassing it is to have to ask the devil for help?”

“Still not seeing where I come in.” Yoongi grumbled, raising an eyebrow.

“You come in because I’m pretty sure whoever took Hoseok is the same person that’s been killing off Guardians. However, he likes to do things in order, with everyone present. Angel, demon, then the charge. The fact that he doesn’t have you or your charge lead me to believe that he’s merely holding Hoseok hostage until he has all of you together.”

Yoongi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Hoseok could really still be alive. He’s probably so scared and crying. He’d make Hoseok watch a scary movie once and he’d had nightmares for three days.

“The other reason that you’re involved is your charge. I’m sure you’ve noticed how sensitive she is to your presence. I’ve never seen anyone be so aware of their guardians before. I think with a little nudging from me, she might just be the key to help us unravel this mystery. She might be able to see what I cannot.“

“You want to put Y/N in danger? I didn’t leave her to suffer all alone for six months for nothing. It was to keep her safe. No, fuck you. I don’t care who you say you are. She’s all alone right now and you’ll get her killed.”

“Ah, but she’s not all alone, is she Yoongi? She still had one guardian left.”

“And I’m a demon. I can’t do shit to help her. Unless it’s urging her to drink a lot of coffee so she’ll be wide awake when this guardian killer comes to finish us off.”

“Don’t worry. When you get back, you’ll find that I’ve awakened her powers to their full potential. Even I don’t understand everything she can do, but I got rid of the blockage in her mind that was holding her back.”

Yoongi could just imagine how this was going to go. Y/N without powers was a clumsy, naive mess. Y/N with powers was probably going to be the death of them both.

“Yoongi, one last thing. If you are able to keep your charge alive and help me discover who is killing my angels, I’ll owe you a boon.”

“A boon? Anything I want right?” Yoongi smirked.

“Anything you want within reason. Meaning, no, I won’t wipe the entire city of Newark off the map because it smells funny.”

“That’s too bad. It would have been best for everyone, really.”

Yixing laughed and started walking towards the light that was building behind him. He paused for a moment and looked back. He smiled sweetly at Yoongi. “ By the way, it was good to see you again, Yoongi. I missed you.” With that said, he turned back to the light and disappeared.

Yoongi wasn’t sure what he was feeling. It was all a lot to take him. Him, an angel? It all seemed too impossible to believe. All he knew right now was he needed to get to her.

He closed his eyes and thought of home.

Before he could open his eyes, he could smell it. He was home. He could smell a candle burning, a fruity scented one he’d urged her to buy twenty of because they smelled great. He could smell the tangerines that she kept buying out of habit because Hoseok always wanted them around. And he could smell her. She always smelled like a combination of her guardians mixed with her own natural scent of flowers and spice.

He opened his eyes and noticed that he had landed in their bedroom. He saw the lump in the bed and pulled the covers off to the side a little. She was hunched up in a fetal position, covered in a thick sweater and sweatpants, even though it was the middle of summer. She wasn’t used to feeling cold either, he remembered. She’d also gotten way too thin. He wondered if she would at least respond to some urgings to eat. He noticed a tear falling down her face, and she sniffled every now and then. She even cried in her sleep now.

Yoongi sighed and crawled onto the right side of the bed, his usual spot. He’d never admit this to another living soul, but he’d missed this. Missed not having to sleep alone, missed listening to Y/N snore louder than any woman should. missed seeing her smile as he hummed a tune to help her sleep. He cuddled close and started humming. She quieted almost instantly and cuddled closer in her sleep.

“Don’t leave me again, ghostie.” She murmured sleepily.

Yoongi smiled and tucked her head under his chin.

“I’ll never leave you again. I promise.”

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