Archive of Our Own ^beta

There’s a stretch of sky above him.

He's on his back, the grass prickling him through his threadbare clothes but he doesn’t care about that just yet. Actually, like this, there’s not much Yoongi really worries about.

Not when the warmth of the sun was washing over him like this.

The sky is vast and wide above him, possibilities and dreams of a life he wishes for with his whole heart. If gods were real, would they answer his prayers?

But maybe he didn’t need the gods to answer his prayers.

Not when he could hear quiet breaths next to him. Not when their fingers were interlaced like this.

*

When the other gods came to visit Yoongi at his temple, probably to pop in to participate in an orgy or something along that vein, it’s always funny to see them confused, searching the area for writhing naked pleasure-struck visions of sensual beauty.

And well, ever since Yoongi took over the role as God of Sex (as in the act of sex and not a term used to sometimes refer to or describe gender), he’s seen to many changes around the place.

No more orgies, visions/hallucinations of impossibly sensual and alluring beings throwing themselves at you as you enter the temple. No more heated perfume and incense wafting about, no more silky sheets thrown about randomly, or very inviting rooms and chambers or balconies of very purposefully-designed-for-one-purpose arrangements set about behind doors of thin nearly see-through curtains. No more dim lighting, no over-flowing basins of lubricants, oils, etc. No more random easily retrievable dildos and other sex toys of all ages set about.

No suggestive (or blatant) moving murals on the walls of various sexual acts. No more disembodied moans and whimpers and other sound effects. No more rose petals thrown about at random, no more trays of oysters and strawberry covered chocolate and alcohol and supposed aphrodisiacs.

Rather the palace is neatly lit, the palace walls have a few paintings framed here and there (Yoongi was partial to the Caravaggio style and had a soft spot for pre-Raphaelite too) (he replaced the previous Fauvism-styled paintings as quickly as he could) as well as potted plants to add some desperately needed greenery around the place. The realm of the gods was honestly just an expanse of white and Yoongi misses the hills and valleys he was born in.

The doors are sensible and because Yoongi hates the sound of doors slamming because of the wind, were all sliding.

There were sensible seating spaces where he could host (unwanted but obligatory) guests and were served tea, coffee, juice, and maybe biscuits if he likes the guests.

Rather than weird moaning, depending on his mood, classical piano solos, rap, hip-hop, classic rock, lo-fi, and soft pop would randomly filter through the many hallways.

The lighting is perfect because Yoongi was a great patron of lighting- all sorts of lighting. A hearth, a fireplace, natural lighting via carefully crafted windows and colourful glass panes. Modern electric lamps and fixtures, gas-lamps, solar-powered bulbs; he loved collecting lights all though the whole process of wiring up each unit was sometimes a pain and yes, he knows he doesn’t strictly need electricity to really make these fixtures run but he likes the faint electric hum. It’s from a time he was not born into so it’s fascinating to him.

All in all, Yoongi’s temple is neat, clean, not at all a location or site for orgies despite being the God of Sex.

Of course, just because Yoongi was asexual didn’t mean that that was the reason for the missing orgies and general lack of this-is-a-sex-toy-emporium vibes. You didn’t have to be asexual to not want these things as part of your temple regardless of what you were sovereign over. For example, the God of War frequently had orgies in their temple. War had nothing to do with sex.

Well.

Technically it shouldn’t but then again, Yoongi can’t be bothered to get in deep into all of that.

And today, not unlike other days, once again, he’s being visited by a very new young god, probably minor and slowly and an unfortunately fading out one, and he’s met with 1 of the 5 reactions he always receives.

1. “What do you mean you’re asexual? Isn’t that a form of reproduction observed in plants? Doesn’t that mean you’re the god of plants or something?”
2. “Asexual? You don’t want sex? You don’t feel like having sex? I don’t understand- what does even mean? Is that a new mental health thing?”
3. “Asexual? That’s like, the most natural thing in living beings, you’re just a prude or you just haven’t met someone to click with- stop being so picky and you’ll get used to it! It’s great!”
4. “Asexual? So you’re a virgin who’s never sex but you decided you don’t like it? How will you know if you haven’t tried it out for yourself? I could show you if you want?”
5. “Asexual? So like, you’re celibate? Is this religious?”

There were more than 5 but those were the most common reactions Yoongi normally faced. Of course, though, out of all these questions, the one he gets the most as the God of Sex is:

“How are you the God of Sex if you’re asexual?!”

And you know, fair question.

Yoongi understands that, for most people (gods included), being asexual and the god of sex seemed counterintuitive. And maybe that was the case sure, after all, no one will trust a doctor if they’ve never been to a medical school. But here he was, the God of Sex, caps and all.

He even has this snazzy massive temple that housed his great omnipresent self (laughs in mortal god still trying to comprehend how any of this really worked because Sunmi sure didn’t tell him much).

But well, putting it bluntly, this wasn’t medical science and Yoongi is not about to start operating on people left and right so that analogy about doctors wasn’t fitting because to answer all of the most popularly asked questions he receives:

1. Asexual is a term used to describe either a form of reproduction seen in plants and fungi (and other single-cell/multi-cell organisms), or, a sexual orientation where the being in question does not feel/has low/has absent sexual attraction to others.
2. Asexuality is a spectrum, meaning those who identify as asexual will experience a variety of the orientation and is not solely defined by the lack of sexual desire. It is NOT a mental health thing and has nothing to do with your mental health (however trauma, and some psychological conditions have been attributed in some people who identify as asexual- doesn’t make it any less or more valid).
3. Sex is indeed a part of life, and (roughly) is required to continue life in most living beings. Being asexual does not make aces prudes or picky- knowing what you want, or in this case, what you don’t want, doesn’t mean you’re picky- it just means you know yourself. And no, asexuality cannot simply go away by having sex repeatedly in hopes of suddenly feeling sexual desire.
4. Not all asexuals are virgins. Some aces do have sex. You can also choose not to like/do/want something without participating in the act- this is applicable in nearly every aspect of life. Maybe you don’t want to eat raw fish without every having tried it before. Maybe you’re shopping and you see a shirt and you know you don’t like it so why would you want to even try it on? And no, never offer anyone that you can “show” them a “good time” – this is also applicable if you’re not asexual. Do not offer anyone a “good time” unprompted.
5. Asexuality and celibacy are not the same. Celibacy is (often times) religious abstinence from sex whereas asexuality, again, is lack/absent/low levels of sexual desire.

And to answer the Big Question™, Yoongi could go on for hours and hours, explaining why his asexuality doesn’t prevent him from actually handing out good, educational, open-minded, and healthy advice regarding sex which did not only mean intercourse but also included anatomy, consent, and health among other topics. But in the end, sometimes, he’s too tired having to explain himself to beings who won’t really listen to him. So he just answers this young all too horny god with a dry and dull tone:

‘Why the fuck not?’

The young horny god is confused and taken aback, stepping back away from Yoongi.

Yoongi was honestly just trying to finish this painting and this random god just stumbles in- it was the fucking afternoon for fuck’s sake.

Thankfully the young horny god leaves and Yoongi can go back to his painting.

He glances at the way the light moves across his hardwood (hah!) floors. It was almost time.

It had been quite a while actually, since some random god strolled into his temple to make demands of him in his own fucking house. Yoongi’s noticed how somehow, there’s an obsession with the whole concept of sex. Who was having sex, how were they doing it, where, when. And it’s funny to Yoongi.

Because so many people regarded sex as something taboo. It was so coveted and obsessed over- and yeah sure, it was a “natural” urge people had, a form of procreation, an act of lust, a declaration of sovereignty, etc etc. And yet it was so shunned, so vilified in a way- but the moment Yoongi explains he’s ace, none of those two extremes could agree with each other or themselves and instead question the validity of Yoongi’s preference or well, lack thereof.

Yoongi doesn’t quite understand or see how somewhere in the messed up timeline of human evolution and “development” this strange obsession with sex started. Of course there was a deep rooted link with misogyny, religious supremacy, greed and power, etc etc.

But the idea, no, the thought process that just because someone does not live the same reality and set of individual-specific experience-shaped lives as you automatically equates their experiences, expression, identity, and preferences as something wrong frustrated Yoongi beyond anything.

You don’t always have to go through something to accept someone’s experience as being real. You don’t have to be shot at to know that a gunshot would be painful. You don’t have to lose someone to know that the grief of loss is real.

There was also that strange complete opposite that was harmful. A forced ideal, of purity, of a sort of superiority that comes from a strange desexualization, especially towards women, that was somehow weirdly aggressive in its enforcement.

Your gender(s) (or lack of it) has nothing to do with how you should express your lack of/desire for sex and how you act on it.

In general Yoongi thinks people, gods as well, were so adamant in the idea of things being black or white, good or bad, that they forget that as living beings, the whole circle of life itself was very much in the realm of grey. That was, of course, not to say that things like intentional murder, genocide, abuse and assault (physical, sexual, emotional, psychological), and things like this existed in the realm of grey- all of these things are definitely bad and should never, under any circumstance, be allowed an excuse or reasoning.

Most things were placed very much in the middle- and no one was above that, and no one could judge another claiming a higher moral ground. A higher moral ground did not exist – and therein, Yoongi, mildly thinks, lies the problem.

The only moral ground anyone should be standing on is to try and be a decent person with what is allowed of you in your circumstance. Your personal moral ground was never higher or better or worse than someone else’s because the lives you lead are so different that there is no chance for a fair comparison.

Honestly, Yoongi could go on and on. And he has.

Irritated having to explain himself so many times, he once strapped a (at first very excited and grossly old God of War) God onto a literal chair and lectured him in a similar vein. His very vomit-inducing boner very visible under his clothing deflated with comic speed.

Soon, his reputation spread across the Realm, bothered only by unfortunate naïve young gods, some of them sent by older gods for the sole purpose of annoying Yoongi because they still couldn’t understand him.

‘Why are you employing really stupid bullying tactics from young humans you idiots!’ Yoongi had yelled out of his window once as he kicks out his unwanted guests.

He has a small number of close friends in the Realm, and he welcomes their occasional visit here and there, even venturing out to meet with them.

He would say that he was quite all right with where he was in this Realm, in his “life” no matter how strange that concept was considering he was a God and all that.

Not counting this morning, but Yoongi hasn’t had an annoying encounter for quite a while. Nor has he had the older gods come in to give him a “talk”.

Well.

All but one god.

Yoongi doesn’t remember seeing him before, so he thinks he might be a relatively young/new god. He’s Yoongi’s height, skin warm and radiant, as though the blessed by the sun.

He always came around to Yoongi’s temple nearly everyday, towards the dusk. At first Yoongi assumed he was maybe looking for an orgy or something like the others, but it didn’t seem to be the case.

His name is Jimin, he tells him.

There’s a brightness to him that Yoongi finds nearly difficult to look at. He always brought tangerines with him for some reason too.

Yoongi remembers the first day he saw Jimin vividly.

Mostly because he was very confused with the familiarity with which the unknown god spoke to him with. He gave him the tangerine, an expectant look in his eyes. But Yoongi is at a loss.

‘There are no orgies here, try the God of War,’ is the first thing he says.

Jimin, who hadn’t introduced himself yet, gave him a stunned look. He seemed to reign himself back in, a strange look of deep emotions swirling in his warm brown eyes.

And then.

And then he laughs.

He laughs and laughs, tears sparkling down his cheeks and Yoongi doesn’t know what to do. He’s never been that great with people crying before him, let alone strangers crying before him. He tries to be polite, gesturing for him to take a seat to the side even though he would like this strange crying god to go away as soon as possible. But the God does take a seat, still crying still laughing, and Yoongi is at a loss as to what to say or do.

It wasn’t the best introduction sure, and Yoongi is sure that that’s the last he’s seen of the strange god but he’s! Very mistaken.

Because he arrives the next day again, with yet another tangerine.

He doesn’t disturb Yoongi, and strangely enough, after a few visits, Yoongi comes to enjoy his presence quietly lingering near him. He tells his close friend Seokjin about him and the God of Love is intrigued.

‘He just comes and…hangs out with you? No reason? Do you guys even speak?’

‘We do- but like, it’s not concrete consistent conversation, you know?’

‘…I mean…’ Seokjin looks at him curiously, ‘What kind of God is he?’

‘I have no idea,’ Yoongi replies, ‘He hasn’t told me. He hasn’t asked me what I am-‘

‘Yoongi, pretty sure everyone in the Realm knows where the God of Sex lives. It’s just one of those things.’

Yoongi grimaces.

‘I’ll see if I can find out,’ his friend assures him.

But here he was, and still didn’t know who Jimin was. Or why really, he would come here everyday. Not that he hasn’t asked. He has.

‘Why are you here?’

Jimin had been sitting on a (his) chair, reading a book (Yoongi’s) as he peeled a tangerine slowly, making sure not to get any of the juice on the pages. He looks up from the book, a little bit late because he was clearly invested in whatever story he was reading.

‘I can’t come spend time with my favourite god?’ he had beamed at him.

And Yoongi is so baffled that he’s someone’s favourite god that he loses his ability to speak. Sure he was sought after a lot, human legends and myths loved to recreate him in many forms and shapes and he was, without a doubt, the most known God. Because sex and all that etc.

But no ones ever really said that he’s their favourite god. Only people trying to be seducing would claim him as their paramount god, or maybe trying to edgy, or just very studious people who want to point out or criticize the depiction/narrative around the supposed divinity of sex.

And just on time, the light hitting the opposite wall, Jimin walks in, bringing in with him the faint lingering scent of tangerines.

‘Good afternoon!’

Yoongi still has no idea what type of god he was.

‘Hey,’ he greets him with a paint smudged hand.

‘Wow! That’s starting to really come together!’ Jimin tells him, taking up the seat he normally took up once he came to this room.

‘Ah, thanks,’ Yoongi nods, turning back to his canvas. He normally felt a little self-conscious about painting in front of others, but he’s all right with Jimin being there. He dips the brush back into some blue, tapping the excess off before going back to the canvas. Yoongi hears Jimin peeling a tangerine and honestly Yoongi wonders if this was some form of conditioning. Condition him with tangerines. Or something like that. For what purpose? He has no idea. But he’s not really against tangerines, he actually quite loves them.

He accepts the half from Jimin who hands it to him with a bright smile.

They normally spoke during the time it took Yoongi to finish the half of the tangerine.

And it’s not anything serious or deep like so many gods like to take it upon themselves to do. Rather, Yoongi just tells Jimin about his frustrations about washing acrylics off of his clothes, or how Jimin has been trying to make friends with the cats that live in the God of Cats temple.

At first, purely out of (justified) defensive reflexes, Yoongi went off on a lecture about how he was not going to host an orgy or whatever else he wanted related to sex for him because he was ace and yeah, so what he was the God of Sex but was ace? Fuck you for thinking any less of me and my capabilities in being a good God of Sex. It wasn’t needed because Jimin doesn’t seem surprised, doesn’t seem confused, doesn’t seem…well, he just listens to Yoongi, smiling and nodding.

‘I’m so happy with how you’re so confident,’ he tells him.

And well, Yoongi is once again, stumped.

Because while he doesn’t really remember much of his past life, he does remember his fears, his doubts, his anxieties- how he thought something was wrong with him. How there was such a disconnect between how other boys his age would speak or do things- how Yoongi was terrified to be considered strange, or like something was wrong wit him. He remembers not even wanting to get any form of medical help if there was any to be had. He didn’t understand it. He remembers how eunuchs were made fun of- how they were belittled. He remembers how men were emasculated for not having sex before a certain age, how they were relentlessly made fun of until they did so. His fear wrapped around him and he couldn’t even say anything to-…he couldn’t say anything to anyone.

So now they just talk randomly. It’s been a substantial amount of time yet Yoongi doesn’t know what he did. There’s no tell in how he dresses. He’s normally in a variety of 21^st century clothing, it makes Yoongi wonder if he’s from that time era because it didn’t matter when you were born in the human timeline, because if a God thought you were suitable, they simply plucked you out easy-peasy.

Yoongi himself doesn’t remember much from his human-life, but that doesn’t stop Yoongi from still harbouring a little bit of bitterness about the whole thing.

Yoongi tries to pry out who Jimin is by trying to engage him in conversation he’s had with his fellow god friends. Struggles and difficulties with being a god and their duties and all that. But Jimin never tells him enough to give Yoongi a substantial enough hint as to who he was.

Jimin is telling him about his friend, Taehyung, and about how he was also painting something and how painting was pivotal in helping with problems with memories (Taehyung was the God of Memories or something) when Yoongi swallows down his tangerine, seeds and all and asks bluntly:

‘Who are you?’

It’s not the first time he’s asked Jimin this, but it’s the first time Jimin gives him an answer that sounds the most like the truth.

‘I’m your sunshine.’

Jimin breaks out into a funny chuckling giggling fit, like he found what he said cheesy. And maybe it was. And a lot of people would probably consider it sub-par attempts at flirting but-

Well.

Yoongi is a god. And a good sharp-eyed one at that. He knows when people/Gods are lying to him.

And…Jimin wasn’t lying to him.

But what could he possibly mean by that? Like sure, one thing Yoongi notes is how the light seems to love him. He just had this glow to him, reflecting and illuminating all in one.

Yoongi finishes the tangerine but doesn’t get up to finish the painting. Jimin seems surprised, already used to how Yoongi’s routine of promptly ending any conversation after the tangerines were done.

‘What do you want from me?’ he asks instead this time.

Jimin looks a little taken aback by this question.

‘You’re not a god sent by the others to try and harass me,’ Yoongi ticks off his mental list, ‘You’re not here for an orgy or any sexual favours- or advice,’ he adds, ‘You’re not here to try and gain something from me, from what I can see at least, are you here to study me? A god that has somehow failed to embody what I’m supposed to govern over?’

Jimin looks a little sad, he puts the peels to the side before resting his hands over his knees. He opens his mouth but Yoongi doesn’t want a vague non-answer.

‘Just the real answer please,’ he states as firmly but as politely as he could. ‘Not some coded or hidden meaning or metaphoric statement. What do you want from me?’

Jimin looks down, eyes not quite focused on some point on the floor between them. After a full strained silence, Yoongi gives up. Jimin wasn’t going to answer him so Yoongi wasn’t going to sit there and listen to silence not doing anything. He could listen to silence and finish his painting.

He stands just as Jimin speaks.

‘You’ve already given me everything and more.’

Yoongi has given himself many a pep-talk. To not completely lose the ability to speak when Jimin gives him an answer to his questions that is. But it’s not like he’s expecting these answers in the first place.

‘Then why are you here?’ he presses, looking down at the god.

Jimin just smiles, shaking his head slightly.

Yoongi has a feeling that he was missing something here. Something he should know but somehow doesn’t. He would ask Sunmi for advice but well the previous God of Sex had retired, ascending this Realm into the expanse past the stars where ultimately all souls, including gods, went to rest.

So Yoongi was going to have to take it upon himself to figure out what kind of God Jimin was. It was high time after all. Maybe if he figured it out, he would understand why Jimin would never stop visiting him. Maybe he would understand his actions, his words.

Because as he glances back at the mysterious god, he sure as hell doesn’t understand why he was here, and what he was doing.

But not for long.

*

The sky is cloudy today. He can smell a storm approaching.

Maybe that would help with the heat. It would most definitely help with the drought if it rains for more than a day.

His skin is aflame even though the sun is mostly blocked. The parts that have healed are cracked, the parts still exposed are inflamed but it’s okay. The pain doesn’t matter, not really anyways. 

Not when the fragrance of tangerines lingers on his fingers, his lips, his breath.

Not when cool careful hands dressed his bruised and wounded back.

‘You know you shouldn’t.’ a voice he can’t identify tells him.

‘I know.’ He hears himself replying.  

Their world is small, but it’s theirs.

They’re young, and admittedly not the smartest but it’s taken so much from him, of him, both of them.

He’s greedy, he wants this.

‘It’s your favourite.’

In this world, they would always share it, a quiet and sweet escape.

*

Sometimes during the evening, well “evening”, he steps out of his temple to join his friends for their weekly, well “weekly”, dinner get together. Though Yoongi enjoyed his privacy, enjoyed the quiet of his own mind and thoughts, he loved meeting with his close friends. It was in many ways, the highlight of his “week”.

As usual, they always met up in Namjoon’s Temple which was basically a great wooded forest. Which made sense, because Namjoon was the God of Trees. Many referred to him as the God of Nature as well, but the Gods of Nature, which Namjoon certainly was, was a very broad term and as a result, all of the smaller denotations of that title formed a unique sort of series of gods.

Yoongi loved coming here. He received a bunch of trees from Namjoon already, and had them situated in the best locations around his own temple.

‘Ah, Yoongi, I thought I’d catch you here.’

Seokjin was the God of Love, and happened to be aromantic as well. He was frequently questioned as well, much like Yoongi, but he’s not sure if it was Seokjin’s personality or something but he was very good at keeping off insensitive and invasive questions and remarks. Yoongi felt a close connection to Seokjin, and he’s been told that Sunmi had previously held a close and deep friendship with the previous God of Love as well.

It’s a tiny bit funny to think of the Gods of Love and Sex somehow instantly and instinctually being close friends when Seokjin was aromantic and Yoongi asexual.

Just a tiny bit funny.

Seokjin was much taller than himself (all of his friends are much taller than him), and held himself with an odd combination of grace, awkwardness, physical awareness but also a highly contrasting lack of it, and a strength that honestly betrayed his frame. His hair is a soft purple-pink, something he’s had for a few days now, all to celebrate a holiday that started somewhere in the 20^th century in the Human Realm. It suits him, and was quite befitting of the God of Love too.

‘Is Hobi late?’ Seokjin looks around for the God of Light.

‘I think his temple duty was supposed to be today, a 14^th century religious service,’ Yoongi explains, ‘He did say he might be a bit late.’

‘Oh well, let’s not keep Namjoon waiting then,’ Seokjin pushes his hair back and Yoongi knows the Humans (and Gods!) would be swooning at the sight.

As the God of Love and aromantic, Seokjin was very much an enigma to the other Gods much like Yoongi was. But like Seokjin liked to point out, as the God of Love, he wasn’t just sovereign over romantic love like everyone assumed he was. Love was not synonymous with that of romance. Love was, well, love. And it was alarming to assume that as an aromantic who didn’t develop (or took a very long time) romantic affections, you didn’t feel love in general. Because Seokjin loves with his whole heart. Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever really met anyone who encompassed such a wide range of love, and a joy for love as well. He just didn’t ever feel romantic affection. And honestly, Yoongi doesn’t think it’s in anyway a deterrent to his duties as the God of Love. Like Seokjin once told him, love was multifaceted, and you cannot state one of its many and equally sized sides as being the true representation of the whole spectrum that created the light of love. Respect, communication, patience, compromise, commitment, and trust were only some of the many sides contained within love.

Love that you have for you partner(s), love that you have for your siblings, love that you have for your parents, for your children, for your family, for your friends, for your pets, for your plants, your books, your hobbies, celebrities, the stars, the moon, the skies, for yourself- all forms of love, each just as unique, as beautiful, and as powerful.

Yet somehow as God of Love Seokjin is boiled down to simply that of romance, therefore boiled down to his lack of romantic affection or feelings. The amount of times Seokjin was called emotionally barren made Yoongi simmer in anger.

And while at his temples, Seokjin is sought most often for advise on marriages, partners, and also frequently people mistaking him as the God of Sex as well, seeing as most people (and gods) equated the two together as being inseparable, Seokjin is endlessly patient and listens to every prayer, every question, every hesitant doubt-filled queries with no judgment, no reserve, and a heart wide open.

Yoongi might not have been able to learn much from Sunmi, but he learnt so much from simply being friends with Seokjin.      

And for that, he was eternally grateful.

‘You guys are just on time!’

Namjoon waves at them from the entryway into his greenhouse. He didn’t quite have a temple per se, rather he had several greenhouses, workbenches or stone altars where he worked around, tending to saplings and seeds and roots.

He’s dressed, as per usual, in a very random array of clothes from a very odd selection of timeline. Seokjin and Yoongi liked to make a game of naming specific decades within the Human Realm timeline before meeting with Namjoon and see who got the most correct. So far, Seokjin has been winning and Yoongi is not entirely sure if it’s luck or if Seokjin was somehow cheating.

But today he’s wearing a rather thick wooly robe that looks distinctly 11^th century Mongolia, 21^st century silk pajama pants, woven papyrus and leather sandals from 2000 BCE, and an linen shirt that kinda looks like it could be from a variety of time and a variety of places. Yoongi can’t tell, he was not a fashion historian. Either way all he knows is that linen is a great fabric.

‘Food just got ready, it’s inside,’ Namjoon gestures back inside the greenhouse before looking around, ‘Hobi?’

‘Temple duties,’ both Seokjin and Yoongi reply in unison.

‘I’ll cover his plate then,’ Namjoon nods as he ducks in quickly.

It’s funny because technically they didn’t need to eat- a lot of it was purely psychological but it was still fun to do so anyways. Besides, Namjoon, though he couldn’t cook, liked to collect random meals from all over the Human timeline.

(Side note but Yoongi privately thinks that the best bread he’s ever had was from 8^th Century Arabian peninsula but he would rather not argue with Seokjin’s robust adoration for the 15^th century French baked goods.)

This greenhouse was one of the larger ones, with multiple seating areas. It always smelt nice at Namjoon’s greenhouses, and in general, this whole area. Seokjin liked to joke by inhaling and exhaling hard, telling them he was clearing out the pollution from his lungs. Apparently he came from a point in the Human timeline where the air wasn’t that great in quality, and strange habits from that era still stuck to him. He would often adjust nonexistent mask straps around his ears or on the side of his head, as though some placebo pressure still irritated him there. He would also suddenly inhale, as though about to cough, but it would never come. It wasn’t as frequent as when Yoongi first met him, but he still occasionally did it.

‘We will be digging into some excellent 12^th century Indian cuisine!’ Namjoon tells them with glee, ‘Also got wine from Ricasoli!’

‘Oh Namjoon you’re going all out,’ Seokjin grins just as they hear a shout.

‘Wait!’ Hobi is yelling, still dressed in appropriate garb, his glamour flickering in bursts of light and sparks.

‘Don’t set my forest on fire!’ Namjoon calls out in panic.

‘I won’t,’ Hobi pants out, as he gets to the doorway, still emitting sparks, blinking hard so that the light emitting from his eyes fades away.

‘Your mouth is still glowing,’ Seokjin points out as he takes a seat.

‘Great, give me a minute,’ Hobi turns back to head out again.

Hobi was the youngest out of the 4 of them. Well, definitely not in a way that could be really measured, but Hoseok, God of Light, had some difficulty with random things. Like shedding his glamour. Though it had to be said his was certainly very different than theirs. Yoongi’s was quite simple really- he simply cast an illusion upon himself, allowing whoever looked at him to see him how they imagined him to be. Unsurprisingly he’s normally envisioned as a voluptuous woman; a mix up with how the God of Fertility was first envisioned, and then closely linked to the God of Sex. It was sometimes awkward meeting the God of Fertility here and there, but they had worked hard to develop a good business relationship so now meeting each other in joint temples every now and then wasn’t too bad.

Hobi returns just as Yoongi takes a seat, accepting a cushion from Namjoon so that sitting on the stone benches would be more comfortable while eating.

‘Hey guys, sorry,’ he apologizes, no longer emitting light from his eyes and mouth. He still has feathers growing alongside his hair, scales slowly retracting back under his skin. ‘The sun just set and I just about ran out. It was the vernal equinox.’

‘Ahh,’ they all intone, not quite sure what that might mean but it must be a major festival or celebration.

‘Oh this looks so good,’ Hoseok rubs his hands together in glee.

‘Let’s tuck in,’ Namjoon gestures as he makes himself comfortable.

They talk and eat, mostly listening to Hoseok’s accounts for his day in the Human Realm. While Seokjin and Yoongi were frequently sought after Gods, Hoseok was very frequently away to attend and watch over festivals, celebrations, sacrifices, observations, and worship. As the God of Light, Hoseok represented one of the first Ancient good to be actively worshiped by the Human Realm. He was arguably, sovereign over one of the oldest known deities of all time.

His temple was in fact, the first, in all of the Realm of the Gods. If there was a beginning to this endless void, it would start with Hoseok’s temple. Yoongi doesn’t go often, because it’s overwhelmingly bright and honestly his eyes tear up almost immediately.

‘So, have you figured out who your stalker god is yet?’ Seokjin asks as they’re finishing up their meal and Namjoon pours them all out some wine.

Hoseok does a double-take while Namjoon laughs, nearly spilling wine.

‘Stalker god?’ Hoseok repeats cautiously, narrowing his eyes a little in apprehension and defensiveness. Hoseok, if he was nearby, was more than ready to “throw-hands” at anyone bothering Yoongi. Yoongi might complain, but having Hoseok by his side, ready to fight on his behalf (though he hasn’t had to till now), was in its own way, a sweet and reassuring feeling.

‘Seokjin is exaggerating,’ Yoongi rolls his eyes. He fills Hoseok in on what was happening. Namjoon seems to have already been aware, either because of Seokjin or well, Namjoon always somehow seemed to know what was happening anyway.

‘And…that’s it?’ Hoseok tilts his head questioningly.

‘Yeap,’ Yoongi nods over his wooden goblet.

‘…and you don’t know who he is.’

‘Yeap.’

‘…he always comes with tangerines?’

‘Yeap.’

‘…do you have an admirer?’

‘I don’t think it’s that,’ Namjoon says as Yoongi snorts so loudly he chokes on his wine and has to take a moment to recover.

‘This isn’t just admiration or whatever,’ Seokjin supplies, ‘I think there’s more to this.’

‘And you still don’t know what kinda of god he is?’

‘Nopes,’ Yoongi manages to answer this time.

‘Leave that to me,’ Hoseok says at once, ‘I’ll find out! I think it’s weird if he’s not telling you who he is. There’s surely no reason why you shouldn’t know? Or why he shouldn’t tell you, unless it’s for nefarious reasons.’

‘When you see him you won’t think it’s nefarious,’ Seokjin chuckles.

‘You’ve seen him then? What do you think of him?’ Namjoon asks.

‘Absolutely wonderful,’ Seokjin raises his cup, ‘Never met a more sweet or endearing being.’

‘…that does nothing to help us,’ Hoseok deadpans before turning to Yoongi, ‘I’ll see what I can do! I’ll ask around and check if anyone knows who he is!’

‘If Yoongi is truly uncomfortable with this, he’s more than capable of putting an end to it,’ Namjoon points out.

‘Yes there’s that too-‘

‘-so why haven’t you?’

‘Hm?’

‘Why haven’t you turned him away or something?’ Hoseok asks, having personally witnessed many a time where Yoongi got rid of unwanted guests in his temple.

‘It’s…there’s something, about him,’ Yoongi gestures vaguely in the air, ‘I just-…I can’t wrap my head around hit.’

‘Aw,’ Seokjin intones over his cup of wine, not adding anything more and letting his unfinished sentence end in which ever way in their minds.

‘What do you mean?’ Namjoon asks.

Yoongi hasn’t mentioned this to anyone until now and he feels a little nervous in doing so.

‘I’m um, I think I’m getting flashbacks, from like, when I was human.’

There’s silence.

‘It’s…not really enough to really understand what’s happening- the thoughts I have are…abstract, but they’re also, I dunno happy.’

‘…are you saying this because they started ever since you uh, met this Jimin?’ Hoseok asks carefully.

‘I can’t say it’s a direct reaction, could be chance too.’

He’s met with 3 identical stares of disbelief.

‘What do you see- or like, remember?’

‘The sky,’ Yoongi replies, ‘Mostly it’s the sky.’

3 identical gazes filled with worry, thoughtfulness, and intrigue. Yoongi doesn’t know which he prefers.

‘Well, it hasn’t been happening nonstop. So it’s not like it’s gnawing on my mind,’ Yoongi tells him with a wave of his hand, ‘Don’t stress too much about it, he’ll eventually stop.’

But Yoongi is lying and it does gnaw on his mind and he is somewhat stressed about it too. Because ever since Jimin started visiting he’s been unable to shake off the feeling like he was forgetting something important.

He’ll think through his daily schedule thoroughly, wondering what he’s forgotten. And he never has anything he’s forgotten or missed- he just can’t remember what he’s forgetting and he knows it has something to do with Jimin but he can’t pinpoint what.

So he takes it upon himself to promptly do what he has heavily advised against many times.

Stalk Jimin.

In his mind he’s not really stalking Jimin per se.

He just needs to know where he goes, and to what temple, and who he speaks to on a regular. Then he’ll find out who he is. Obviously the easiest and morally soundest way around this is follow Jimin back just once, get to his temple, and then from there, just figure it out. Though of course it should be noted that no one would figure out what God Yoongi was based solely on his temple but hey, he might get lucky. Or you know, ask the neighbouring temple.

The next day comes and with that Jimin of course, bringing with him a tangerine, and also a cat that he excitedly tells Yoongi he’s finally managed to befriend. Yoongi is very pleased to see the cat and maybe they spend a lot of time petting and playing with the cat until Jimin has to leave. Yoongi nearly forgets that he’s supposed to stalk follow Jimin.

Scrambling out of his temple, he just about catches sight of the mysterious god leaving his courtyard.

The Realm of the Gods is an odd place.

There was really no set of direction to be followed- if you had a destination to get to, you would find the road takes you there. However, as Yoongi is set on simply following Jimin, he’s able to keep pace with the mysterious god. Jimin is clearly headed to the Temple of Cats, returning the kitty in his arms. Yoongi has the ability to remain hidden, something he has as a result of the act of voyeurism: something that can be enjoyed when there is consent on all sides!

And he’s grateful for it because Jimin pauses a lot, pointing to different things to show the cat, or he even sets down the cat allowing her to sniff around, sometimes even walking back to where Yoongi was (not at all like a creep), watching and following.

They eventually get the Temple of Cats and Yoongi is 100% sure they’ve used some sort of deodorizer because that many cats and not overwhelming wave of cat piss in his face? Unrealistic. The God of Cats is there, a young girl who was pretending to mix together a potion in a large cooking pot as all the cats in the area slumber about. Jimin greets her happily, squatting down to allow the kitty to leap out safely from his arms. He goes and sits next to the little girl, telling her something as she listens eagerly, stroking the head of the cat Jimin had brought with him.

He watches for a while, unaware of the smile on his lips as Jimin plays along with the little God, pretending to work magic over the cooking pot. He’s not quite sure how much time goes by as he watches Jimin play with the little God, but he has his own little circle of cats by the end, during which the little God notices.

‘That’s so odd!’ she says before she calls for the cats.

Yoongi is frozen in place where he’s squatting down as well. He’s pretty sure he’s hidden and no one can see him, but there’s a terrifying moment where he thinks Jimin actually sees him, their gazes holding for a second before the mysterious god looks away.

‘Maybe they think it’s comfortable there?’ Jimin suggests as he slowly stands up.

‘Maybe,’ the little God replies thoughtfully, ‘Thank you for coming by again!’

‘I’ll come visit soon!’

‘Promise?’

Jimin beams down at the little God.

‘Of course.’

Yoongi waits a few excruciating “minutes” before he allows himself to move. The cats around him trail after him for a while as he nearly loses track of Jimin. The mysterious god didn’t seem to be purposefully going somewhere, though his movements weren’t necessarily idle and directionless.

Yoongi wonders if Jimin will actually return to his temple at any point. He knows that there were some gods who sometimes wandered about, staying over in their friend’s temples. He’s done it before, he’s stayed with Namjoon for a couple of days, he’s stayed at Seokjin’s temple too. Great, did he pick the wrong day?

But he still follows Jimin. 

He’s not sure where they were exactly- he’s never really walked this road before. He wonders how much of it was part of a temple or how much of it the void forming what Jimin wanted to see. Because they’re in a sort of young wooded forest- not the older slightly dim woods Namjoon had for his temple. But the trees aren’t old, and the land around is starting to form little pockets of crops that slowly expand out into bigger pieces of land. There’s a stone wall to one side, fencing off a flat and merrily gurgling stream of clean water. The place clears up even more, the sun warm- it’s maybe spring. Was Jimin the God of Spring?

He’s walking on a narrow dirt road, and the breeze is nice. The trees rustle lightly and Yoongi is so distracted by this tranquil but not at all particularly unique stretch of nature that he nearly loses sight of Jimin again. Following some strange instinct, he ducks through a couple of narrow birch trees and spots Jimin slowly making his way up a gentle slope. He waits a while before he climbs up the knoll.

And suddenly, above him, the sky seems to expand on and on endlessly. Only the distant hills break the expansion of blue all above him.

It’s not quite vertigo, but Yoongi feels like he’s falling up into the sky for a moment. Like he could fly, and there would be everything he’s ever wanted out there.

He takes a step back to collect himself, tearing his eyes away from the unnervingly familiar sky to properly study his surroundings.

They’re in a valley. A valley that’s somehow startlingly familiar in a way Yoongi cannot describe. To the side, there’s a tangerine tree laden with the fruit. But there’s no Jimin.

His feet take him to the tangerine tree. It’s not very big, probably just a little taller than Yoongi himself, but the branches spread about. The fragrance is rich and green- something he doesn’t know how to describe and suddenly-

His throat constricts, eyes burning as though ready to tear up. He takes a hurried step back away from the tangerine. That’s when he sees Jimin. He’s leaning up against a crumbling stone wall- his eyes are closed and he looks peaceful.

The overwhelming desire to cry floods him again. He also feels like he’s intruding on something personal, something deeply private being here-

He turns once more and finds the road that leads him away as quickly as possible.

*

The sky is pale, just a little after dawn.

It’s beautiful and it’s exceeding early and Yoongi is fetching water as per usual.

The sky is beautiful but it means nothing to him right now.

Not when the path is empty next to him. Not when the usual pair of bare and dirty feet that liked to sometimes skip next to him, splash him water, or try and poke at his cheeks was missing.

Mornings like these meant afternoons like these, which meant an evening like this would soon follow and Yoongi’s night is empty of dreams reliving the warmth of his day.

The sky mocks him, a contrast because no light illuminates his eyes under the sunrise sky.

If gods were real, then surely, they would hear him, hear them.

*

‘So!’ Hoseok bursts through his room, illuminating the place too suddenly, causing Yoongi’s eyes to water.

‘I don’t know who Jimin is! But I do know who his closest friends are!’

‘Okay and?’ Yoongi dabs at his eyes.

‘Taehyung, God of Memories, and Jungkook, God of Beginnings.’

‘…is that supposed to uh, be helpful?’ he knew about Taehyung already, though he guesses it’s good to have confirmation than just to assume.

‘I don’t know, I’m just sharing what I learnt with you,’ Hoseok shrugs, ‘I will however, befriend them both! And let’s see what I wriggle out!’

‘There’s no need to go all undercover-‘

‘-there is a need to go all undercover!’ Hoseok beams at him. ‘Anyways, I heard from Seokjin that you were stalking Jimin yesterday-‘

‘How does he know-? Also it wasn’t stalking,’ Yoongi adds quickly, sealing his paint jars.

‘What wasn’t stalking?’

Both Hoseok and Yoongi jump about a foot into the air as Jimin appears down the hallway.

‘Hi!’ Jimin smiles at Hoseok, waving a little.

‘Hi!’ Hoseok beams, literally.

Jimin blinks rapidly, flinching just a tiny bit as he says, ‘Wow, you’re really pretty!’

Hoseok blushes, the light he’s emitting turning slightly rosy like the light at dawn.

‘Thank you! You are too!’

Jimin beams back just as bright, in Yoongi’s opinion, except it doesn’t hurt his eyes.

‘I’m Hoseok, God of Light,’ Hoseok intones in such a casual way that Yoongi doesn’t quite catch-on what he was doing until Jimin just gives them both a knowing smile.

‘I know who you are!’ Jimin nods excitedly, ‘I’ve seen your temple! I love it so much!’

‘You do?’ Hoseok replies with relief, ‘I’m always worried everyone might think it’s too gaudy or intense.’

‘Absolutely not,’ Jimin shakes his head, ‘It’s very beautiful!’

‘Please do come by any time you want!’ Hoseok tells him, ‘Any friend of Yoongi’s is immediately welcome there!’

Jimin’s cheeks are rosy and Yoongi fights the urge to feel the warmth of it under his palms.

Yoongi continues to paint as he listens to Hoseok and Jimin speak. Jimin never offers Hoseok the tangerine, in fact he doesn’t even take it out, only doing so as he readies to leave around the same time he normally did. He places it on Yoongi’s bench before saying, ‘I think this sky is really beautiful.’

Yoongi actually isn’t sure what he’s painting. He’s been painting this piece for a long while now. He thinks now that it might be a large stretch of sky. But he keeps changing the colours and what could only be clouds swirling past- he needs to stop somehow, or the canvas would peel and crack from the excess of paint layers.

He’s never really told anyone before and maybe it’s not too surprising that painting a large stretch of canvas in shades of blue would make anyone who saw it assume it was the sky.

This specific stretch of sky is just a little after dawn, the edges still inky but the center soft and bright, hints of gold stretching out as wispy clouds dissipating as the sun shines down.

‘Thank you,’ Yoongi manages to say.

He watches as Hoseok and Jimin leave together, laughing a little as they seemed to genuinely hit it off.

He was missing something. And Yoongi hates how he can’t figure it out.

Sealing all of his paint jars, Yoongi covers the large canvas once more before pulling out a blank sheet of paper. He needed to make a formative list of all the possible gods Jimin could be.

Jimin was relatively young, but not too young. So that ruled out a lot of gods because their predecessors enforced a tradition of choosing their replacements young.

Yoongi has a lot of problems regarding gods coming down and randomly choosing mortals they deem worthy to replace them. Especially considering most of these gods chose their replacements early on and when they were very impressionable and being the God of Sex and understanding consent quite well, Yoongi has a MAJOR issue with this whole mess. He knows that most gods do what feels right when it comes to choosing the mortal and that’s what Sunmi, who had been the previous god of sex, wait- the God of Sex, had told him when she appeared before him the first time.

(Actually, Yoongi’s memory of Sunmi, his first memory of her, is her voice, telling him not to worry. And maybe that was her being a God and all, but somehow he believes in her words, or at least believes in whatever it was she was referring to.)

Yoongi had, understandably, been very upset at being taken away by some random god to a traumatizing palace filled with half-naked people (at best) writhing all over each other all over the place in a chorus of high-pitched sounds and voices.

At least he hadn’t been 7 years old or something. He had been, in human years, just a little older than 20.

Either way, that filtered out quite a decent bit of Gods so now as he looks down at his quite sizeable list, Yoongi decides to ignore the strange feeling in his chest, back turned to the ever-changing sky painted across his canvas, and temple locations set in his mind. 

He was a pretty good judge of character, so he was going to just follow what seemed right.

His first guess is that Jimin is the God of Beauty.

He has eyes. And his eyes tell him that Jimin is beautiful.

He’s absolutely stunning. It was as though light adored him- the way it bounced off his hair, his skin- the rosiness of his ears as the light passes through from behind him- there’s something godly about his beauty. As a mortal, he would have turned heads left and right no doubt.

He had soft cheeks, yet a sharp jawline. His eyes were clear and bright, but could also appear dark and hooded. His lips were full and plush but balanced so well with the rest of his face. Even his teeth was beautiful. Jimin was full contrasts that complemented each other so perfectly, encompassing an array of expressions within the spectrum of beauty itself.

So he promptly goes to the Temple of Beauty and is promptly proven wrong.

‘I’m the God of Beauty,’ Irene, the actual God of Beauty tells him with a slightly confused expression.

And again, Yoongi has eyes. Irene was beautiful, absolutely made sense to be the God of Beauty, yeap no doubt. But he’s confused and when he’s confused he says dumb things like:

‘Are you sure?’

There’s something very chilling with the way Irene doesn’t say a single word and yet Yoongi feels absolutely stripped bare and exposed as an absolute imbecile.

‘Ah, well, you see, I just, uh, thought, I have this uh- acquaintance who is, uh, very beautiful, and I don’t know what God he is, so I assumed. He was, you know.’ He gestures around the temple.

Which by the way, was absolutely stunning- a true classic in terms of structure, design, and layout. It’s very eclectic, luxurious without being gaudy, filled with aspects of nature without being overwhelming, and the light of the golden hour illuminating the place nonstop.

‘Maybe you should work on your personal bias?’ Irene says in a neutral voice though her eyes are aflame. ‘He could be the god of disease for all you know.’

And Yoongi has met the God of Disease previously and knows that he’s a very handsome being so okay, he ducks his head in shame and nods, apologizing as best as he could.

‘I guess I should work on my personal bias,’ Yoongi mumbles, sighing as he feels Irene’s intense glare following him. He dashes off God of Beauty from his list and proceeds forward to the next one on his list. He walks past Namjoon’s temple to reach the temple of the God of Fruits. It’s a massive orchard, fruit trees and shrubs and bushes and plants everywhere. Insects hum happily all around the place and the fragrance of all sorts of fruit is thick and nearly heady here. Like Namjoon’s temple, there are greenhouses scattered all about, with workbenches, crates and boxes, tables and chairs, even a fruit press and preserve jars. It’s a charming place, no doubt. It very much looks like a place Jimin would be in.

He’s met instead, by a very cheerful looking being, their portly belly round and pushing the buttons of their shirt a little wide.

‘Hello! God of Sex!’ they greet him, waving a perfectly manicured hand at him.

‘Uh, hi.’ Yoongi kinda hates how his “reputation” proceeds him.

‘Here for some fruits? Anything you like in specific?’

Honestly the only reason why Yoongi wrote God of Fruits as an option was because of the tangerines.

‘Ah, I was just uh looking for a friend. I thought he might have been here.’

‘Oh! What’s his name?’ the God of Fruits asks as they descend the ladder they were on, propped up against a wizened looking apple tree.

‘Jimin.’

‘No Jimin’s here I’m afraid,’ the God of Fruits tells him, ‘Though that does sound familiar! Can’t be sure why.’

‘Is there…like,’ Yoongi isn’t sure if this might be insulting, some Gods were very sensitive when it came to questions about their sovereignty and it’s branches. ‘A God of uh, Tangerines?’

‘Ah, there are no individual fruit gods,’ the God of Fruits tells him, ‘There used to be, but then, the God of Apples had a strange mutation phase and it was very concerning so all of the fruits gathered to be hosted in one!’

The God gestures to the apple tree behind them and makes a funny face.

‘Ah…’ Yoongi nods.

‘But we’re all good here!’

‘Well, that’s uh- good, that you all have fixed the uh, apple problem, I’m sorry to disturb you then,’ Yoongi takes a step back.

‘No problem! Feel free to drop by any time!’ they wave an apple at him.

Yoongi scratches off God of Fruits from his list.

He then promptly scratches off God of Sunshine from his list too because Hoseok would absolutely recognize the God of Sunshine. What was he even thinking?

But wait.

Stars were different right?

A sort of subdued light, not quite something as powerful and in your face as the sun or even the moon. Also, like, weren’t stars mysterious?

He places the temple of the God of Stars before his thoughts and the road settles before him.

And wow.

He’s never been here before and he wonders why the fuck not.

He loved looking at the stars. Right? He does- he did.

Not many temples were always set up to resemble the dark of night or even the expanse of the universe. But this place- there’s a beauty here that makes Yoongi want to weep.

A tranquil expanse of night sky expands all around him- even under him. Below, stars dance to a slow melody, a song that held up all of life, all of existence itself. Was this where all souls go to in the end? Gathered together in beauty and song, with a light that didn’t quite illuminate, but with enough strength to linger and shine for all eternity.

Above him constellations form, faint lines dotting an ever changing story overhead. Yoongi thinks he could simply lay here and follow each story as they formed, living an eternity of lifetimes stretched across the universe.

He’s not sure how long he stays here, but he’s never disturbed or interrupted. He doesn’t realize that he’s on his back either until he sits up.

‘Is my story here too?’ he asks no one is specific.

‘All stories are born here,’ a quiet voice, a whisper- aged and yet young, eternal yet fleeting. ‘Past, present, future.’

‘Can I see it?’

‘If you can read it.’

Yoongi traces the lines of the stars, of the stories, of lives lived, living, and yet to live. And…there are empty spaces between the stories that make his constellation. Empty gaps, connecting to another part of the constellation that Yoongi is not allowed to read or see.

‘Why can’t I read it?’

He gets no answer. He leaves the temple, surprised to find himself very much back in the Realm, the night sky gone, and just a faint twinkling star winking at him to indicate where he had been.  

Obviously, Jimin was not God of Stars.

He checks his list after collecting his mind and thoughts. Up next was:

God of Laughter?

Jimin did have very nice laughter. He laughed with his whole body, often falling over. The first time it had happened, Yoongi had been startled, rushing over to help the still wheezing God upright. He hadn’t even been telling him anything particularly funny, just recalling the time he was still “young” and Sunmi had sat him down and asked him with a very serious face if he knew what erectile dysfunction was.

As God of Sex, it was important to understand and have a good knowledge of the potential for diseases and illnesses that came with sex. He remembers that day perfectly. Sunmi, who normally liked to wear an odd (politely put) combination of clothing that could be considered sexy by some, was wearing a very odd frock with elbow high gloves, a hat that caught on the doorways, and house slippers. She sat him down, with some very thick books, a sleek tablet like device that was humming faintly, ready to go with highly detailed 3D rendering of diseased cells, tissue, and virus cells and others. Yoongi was happy, he remembers, not eating that morning.

‘Yoongi. Do you know what erectile dysfunction is?’

Yoongi had spat out his wine.

Either way, Jimin laughed with his whole body. It was carefree and delightful and infectious- Yoongi found himself smiling even just remembering his laughter.

So off he goes.

The temple of the God of Laughter is well.

Colourful. To say the least. And the moment he sees the whole glorified bouncy castle of a temple in its full glory, Yoongi knows he’s in the wrong place. He’s about to step away when the God of Laugher bounces across towards him.

‘Laughter is the best medicine and you, God of Sex! Well, let’s say you probably need a lot of laughter in your life!’

‘Excuse me-?!’

‘It’s time for some laughter-!’

The God of Laughter is smiling too much, too brightly, laughter in his voice that was making Yoongi very uncomfortable. Yoongi has absolutely no desire to laugh- in fact, everything feels sinister and forced. Not every temple had staff. Yoongi’s did not(it used to!), Seokjin’s did not, Hoseok’s didn’t either- Namjoon’s temple did. So it wasn’t odd to have temple staff but this one just-

They’re dressed in a series of clown outfits from across the Human timeline and different cultures and races.

This was, honestly speaking, a nightmare.

‘You know you can orgasm from laughing! Maybe that’s one way you can enjoy it and maybe finally relax!’

Yoongi is now both frightened and angry.

The whole idea of ‘maybe if you get laid you’ll stop being so grouchy’ was annoying and suggested that sex was a cure all for everything. Yoongi has heard and seen enough couples and partners use sex as a deterrent to avoid actual causes of “grouchiness” and it never goes well. Maybe you know, healthy communication about what’s actually causing an issue was perhaps the cure all? Who knows, certainly not Yoongi!

‘God of Sex! Here-!’

And he’s promptly tickled.

And Yoongi is pissed.

‘Touch me again and I will break your fucking hand.’

The abrupt stop of choking laughter, wails, screams, and general movement is almost jarring.

‘Step aside now,’ he growls out.

The clowns on stilts trip up on each other and fall off as everyone else scrambles away, making way for Yoongi to leave the temple.

‘Hey man, it was just a bit of fun!’ the God of Laughter calls after him, ‘I was joking! Can’t you even take a joke?’

Yoongi rounds up, causing the temple staff to all gasp in unison, scrambling further away.

‘A joke? A joke?’ Yoongi hisses, ‘Do you see me laughing?’

He’s met with silence.

‘That wasn’t a joke- you were being a dick. You were showing your true self right there.’

‘Hey man listen it’s not like that-‘

‘You know, jokes have been ruined by assholes like yourself. What were you going to say next? That we can’t make jokes anymore bullshit?’ Yoongi scoffs, ‘You know that? It stopped being a joke the moment you decided to use force, it stopped being a joke the moment you made someone uncomfortable to the point of anger. What you were doing, was simply being an asshole, and a coward, because right now, as I point this out to you, you’re becoming uncomfortable because in your mind, in your head, you’re the hero- you’re this god who brings laughter and cheer- well you know what, at best, you’re the footnote in everyone else’s story. Remember that, and maybe think twice before you fucking touch someone again and say it’s a joke.’

Yoongi is so mad as he leaves he has no idea where he is until he smells tangerines.

The tangerine tree is there and Yoongi is so shocked to find himself here that his anger dissipates at once. He looks around the place, still confused.

For a singular moment, he wonders if he’s dreamt up everything that just happened. That he did indeed belong to this place, to the quiet fields of this valley, with gentle knolls around him, crumbling stone walls, dirt roads leading through to a place he’s not sure really lead home. But this. This felt like home.

And he feels calm and at peace here, though there was definitely a hint of temporary bliss that he knew would soon come to fruition in an hour or so. But until then, he had this with him.

This moment in this time.

This moment, a part.

He picks a tangerine, glancing around to see if farmer Go was anywhere near by. Yoongi knows he counts the fruits but he does it anyways. He also knows farmer Go knows it’s him- but he doesn’t care.

The tangerine is warm from the sun, the scent of it comforting as he twists and plucks it off of its branch. He ducks down a little as he slides down the hill. His feet are bare and dirty and he does his best to wipe them clean on a tuft of grass. Brushing down his clothes though it’s pointless, Yoongi turns to-

‘Yoongi.’

Jimin doesn’t seem too surprised to see him there but there’s a curious expression in his eyes. He gives him a small smile.

‘You wanted tangerines?’

Yoongi looks down. He has a tangerine in his hands, a small leaf still attached.

‘Oh- uh, yeah,’ Yoongi manages to get out, ‘Um, is this your temple?’

Jimin looks around, still smiling, ‘Not quite.’

‘Ah.’

Yoongi realizes where he is, what he was doing, and also realizes he has no explanation for any of this.

‘Right, well,’ Yoongi gets out before Jimin asks him any questions, ‘I’m gonna go. Thank you for the tangerine.’

Before Jimin can reply, Yoongi turns and promptly power walks off towards Seokjin’s temple rather than his own.

‘Seokjin-‘

Seokjin was, of all things, fishing at the pier that extended out of his temple and into a wide open ocean. Yoongi sometimes liked to fish here with Seokjin, more to hang out with Seokjin rather than actually enjoying fishing as a whole.

‘Fuck-!’ Seokjin nearly drops his fishing rod, startled to hear Yoongi bursting down his pier. ‘Can you not give me some warning?!’

‘Sorry,’ Yoongi gets out, ‘I just needed to uh- get away.’

Seokjin adjusts the fishing rod onto the holder attached to the bannister before he looks at Yoongi carefully. Yoongi promptly hides the tangerine he’s been squeezing in his hand. This of course makes Seokjin look at his hand. Yoongi starts to sweat and wonders why he didn’t just go to Namjoon’s. Namjoon rarely pushed a topic if he knew you didn’t want to talk about it but Seokjin was not Namjoon and Yoongi is making mistakes today.

‘Is that a tangerine?’

‘A mandarin, actually.’

Seokjin stares at him.

‘…right.’

Seokjin continues to study Yoongi while Yoongi gruffly clears his throat and pulls up one of the folding chairs.

‘I should do some fishing too,’ he explains, clearing his throat again.

‘So,’ Seokjin begins as soon as Yoongi has cast his line. ‘What were you getting away from?’

Now that Yoongi has to actually say out loud what he was doing, it dawns upon him that his plan maybe wasn’t the best.

‘Have you met the God of Laughter?’ he asks instead.

‘No,’ Seokjin replies.

‘He’s a dick.’

‘…noted.’

Seokjin catches a fish and just as Yoongi feels a tug on his line, his mind settled and his heart soothed by the lulling sounds of the ocean, Seokjin chooses to speak again.

‘I heard he likes snow,’ Seokjin tells him.

Yoongi loses his fish, his head snapping around to Seokjin. Once again, how did Seokjin know all these things?

‘Snow?’ he echoes.

Yoongi knows the God of Snow- and as Jimin was not Moonbyul he could cross that out but- winter? He doesn’t know who the God of Winter is. 

‘Yes.’ Seokjin casts his line again, adjusting his wide brim hat, ‘You might want to add that to your list.’

God of Winter.

Right.

He catches one fish, puts it in a clear bag and wishing a benignly smiling Seokjin goodnight, makes his way to the temple of the God of Winter. And the first thing he notes is that wow this temple is terrible and something tells him he didn’t like winter when he was a mortal.

This is no winter wonderland. It’s frigid and depressing and dull. There’s now but it’s not quite enough to blanket the place, exposing damp and hard looking concrete floors that look frozen cold. There’s some very dead dull grass attempting to grow in some places that’s covered in ice and half rotted but that part has also rotted. The sky is neither clear nor completely cloudy, rather a depressing misty covering overhead effectively blocking out the warmth of the sun, but allowing enough illumination so that you were forced to look upon this terrible urban winter scape. The breeze which though wasn’t harsh or speedy, is persistent and within 3 seconds Yoongi is cold and unhappy.

He slips on a coat quickly and places his fish inside the inner pocket.

Surely, Jimin wouldn’t be here right? Just then, from the large square dull grey house before him, the curtains from one of the windows opens briefly. Yoongi raises a hand.

The curtains fall into place and then an elderly lady walks out.

‘Yes?’ she asks crisply. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Uh, I was wondering if someone named Jimin lives around here?’ Yoongi asks.

‘No,’ she replies. And then promptly walks back in.

‘Well…okay.’

And you know what, Yoongi might as well hit up all of the seasons. Winter was done, next- spring.

Okay so spring was definitely more plausible. He might as well find the main God of the season and ask them about the rest of their sovereignty and check to see if Jimin was among them.

The temple of the God of Spring is thankfully a much nicer place than whatever the God of Winter had going on. It’s very bright, for one, and there’s an incredible amount of children everywhere.

Flowers, Yoongi realizes. They were flower gods.

He’s suddenly incredibly endeared as he watches large groups of children playing around in the large open field. There are tree houses up on some flowering trees, their fragrance soft and faint in the gentle breeze. There are streamers stretching out from tree to tree, leading up to the largest tree at the very center. Maybe this was where the God of Spring resided? Their living quarters, so to speak.

He stops one of the small flower gods, Daisy, he thinks.

‘Hello,’ he squats down to be on the same eye level.

‘Hi,’ he replies back, blinking at Yoongi curiously. ‘Who are you?’

Yoongi pauses for a moment before he chastises himself.

‘I’m Yoongi, the God of Sex.’

‘Oh! Pollination, but for humans and other living beings?’

‘…actually, that’s exactly right.’

‘Cool!’ the God of Daisies proclaims.

‘Thanks,’ Yoongi finds himself grinning, ‘I was wondering if you knew where the God of Spring is?’

‘Mum? She’s gone out for the day,’ Daisy tells him.

‘Oh,’ Yoongi sighs inwardly, ‘Daisy, do you know if there’s a God here, whose name is Jimin?’

‘Jimin?’ Daisy thinks hard before he turns around and yells, ‘Rhododendron! Do you know who Jimin is?’

‘Dimin?’

‘Jimin!’

‘…no!’ the little girl Rhododendron replies.

‘Hm,’ Daisy is screwing up his little face, clearly thinking very hard, ‘I’m not sure Yoongi.’

‘Ah, that’s okay,’ Yoongi smiles at the child, ‘Thank you for your help.’

‘Thank you for helping humans and other living being pollinate!’ he claps his hands together. ‘Do you want to see my daisy patch?’

Yoongi might as well.

Daisy takes him by the hand and Yoongi crouches a little so that he doesn’t tug on the child’s arm. Daisy introduces him to a bunch of flowers, all them smiling and waving happily at him once Daisy explains he’s the God of pollination but for Humans.

‘Thank you for helping the humans!’ they cheer him on.

Yoongi might start crying.

‘Here’s my daisy patch!’ the God of Daisies proudly showcases the very bountiful patch of daisies blooming in a neatly square alongside other flowers. There were little streams here and there, with little pails and watering cans as well.

‘I had a bit of a rough time with them.’ Daisy tells him, ‘I had some aphid problems, but mum says that it’s just a part of life, and we should accept that things like that will and can happen.’

‘Your mum is really smart,’ Yoongi smiles, lightly touching the sun-warm daisies with his fingers.

‘Yeah! Do you have aphid problems with humans too?’

Yoongi can’t help but burst out laughing.

‘Yeah,’ Yoongi nods, ‘Yeah, I have problems that are like aphids, sure.’

‘What do you do with them?’ Daisy asks him curiously.

‘Sometimes, medicine works,’ Yoongi tells the God of Daisies, ‘Sometimes you might need to do an operation.’

‘Like when you trim roots and prune leaves?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Humans and daisies are quite similar!’

‘They are,’ Yoongi smiles.

Just then, a rabbit hops past.

‘Oh! Kookie is here!’ Daisy squeals, getting up and getting excited before turning around to Yoongi. ‘Oh! Kookie might be able to help you!’

‘Well, lead the way then,’ Yoongi gestures for the little God to go ahead.

There are other squeals here and there as more of the young gods see the rabbit and call out for Kookie. Yoongi follows the children through the fields of flowers, their movement causing a flurry of petals to fly about as well as increase the humming of insects like bees. Yoongi thinks bees were kinda neat and hates to think about certain periods in the human timeline because of them. There’s more bunnies here, and they’re hopping around the place, playing with the children.

‘Here! There!’ Daisy calls out to him, running along with his stubby legs, ‘There’s Kookie! Kookie!’

Yoongi looks up and finds himself looking at the first non-child god in this temple.

‘Oh,’ the young God has large doe-like eyes, longish hair that’s kinda wavy and partially tied away. He’s holding one of the bunnies in his hands, a trail of small flower gods behind him, each holding onto the bunny of their own.

There’s recognition in his eyes but Yoongi has never met this God before.

‘Hello!’ he greets him merrily, waving a bunny at him. His skin is covered in tattoos.

‘Ah, hi,’ Yoongi waves, ‘Um, are you the God of Spring?’

This young god was certainly not dressed like the God of Spring. Though not that Yoongi was dressed like the God of Sex either. Sigh. Maybe they should stick to their stereotypes and clichés but Yoongi finds lingerie uncomfortable. Pretty, but uncomfortable- and highly impractical too. He has things to do, he can’t let some annoying lacy thong get in the literal way of him trying to get shit done. Not that he doesn’t own some lingerie. He has some nice pretty ones though he personally genuinely likes the soft lacy robes. He used to be shy, and awkward about wanting to sometimes wear pretty lingerie, but Sunmi, who had found him gently and reverently stroking the smooth silky robes hung up in her closet told him that lingerie wasn’t always about sex. Or something related to sex. Like Sunmi said, lingerie was pretty and wanting to feel pretty because of lingerie wasn’t inherently sexual.

‘Ah, I’m not,’ the young god replies apologetically, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘He’s not mum!’ Daisy tells him with a laugh, like Yoongi was dumb, ‘He’s Kookie!’

‘Yeah,’ the God’s eyes are twinkling with laughter, ‘I’m Kookie!’

‘Ah,’ Yoongi doesn’t know what to say, ‘Nice to meet you Kookie, I’m Yoongi.’

‘He’s the God of pollination for humans!’ Daisy tells him excitedly.

‘Oh wow!’ Kookie exclaims and Yoongi knows this god knows exactly what god he was, no need for introductions. ‘Why is he here?’

‘He’s looking for mum,’ Daisy explains, taking Yoongi’s hand and leading him into the grassy bit. ‘But mum’s away!’

‘Mum’s away,’ Kookie nods, ‘They’ll be back tomorrow, temple duty.’

‘Oh, well, it’s okay,’ Yoongi tells him.

‘Can I help you instead?’ Kookie asks him.

‘Well, I’m looking for someone named Jimin, I was wondering if he was maybe somewhere here, within the sovereignty of Spring.’

‘Hm,’ Kookie looks down at the flowers around him, ‘Do we know anyone named Jimin?’

Most of the flowers start giggling and Yoongi wonders if there’s a joke he’s not getting. Kookie looks up, eyes still twinkling, ‘I’m afraid we don’t have a Jimin here.’

‘That’s all right, thank you for helping,’ Yoongi tries not to think too much about the whole situation too much, he looks down at Daisy, squatting down again, ‘Thanks for helping me Daisy.’

‘No problem!’ he exclaims before handing him a daisy, ‘Here!’

‘Thank you,’ he replies sincerely as he tucks it in through his button hole.

‘You know,’ Kookie says as Yoongi turns to leave the idyllic place. ‘Sometimes when you’re looking for something, it could be in a place you least expect it to be in.’

Yoongi blinks at Kookie for a moment.

‘Thank you,’ he gets out.

Kookie waves another handful of bunny at him and Yoongi finds himself being excused.

Well, okay.

Look for Jimin in a place he least expected? God of…Chaos? Harm? Lies?

Wait- what if he was doing this because he wanted to just cause problems? What if he was like, God of Mischief. Yoongi is a little stunned because, for some reason (personal bias yes Irene I will improve I’m working on that) he’s only associated the more, well, “nice” things with Jimin.

Okay, but who was the God of Mischief?

Might as well check just to make sure.

The God of Mischief lived in an alarmingly normal house. And Yoongi is nothing if not suspicious.

And his suspicions are not without reason! Because the moment he takes a step forward, a water balloon pops on his head, soaking him through instantly. A towel instantly dangles before him and Yoongi is not in the mood and he turns to leave but before him are 9 doors. Sighing tiredly, he opens the door directly before him.

Inside, a massive lion roars at him. Sighing again, he beckons the lion out and gently pats it great head.

‘Hey big guy,’ Yoongi sighs out, scratching the lion between its ears. ‘Should we find the way out?’

‘HEY! THAT’S UNFAIR!’ a young teenaged boy yells from the window of the house. ‘You’re supposed to freak out!’

Yoongi levels him with an unimpressed look.

‘Listen kid-‘

Another balloon pops over his head, this time filled with paint. Yoongi makes sure his little daisy is protected and tucks it inward instead. The lion makes a funny grumbling sound.

‘Oh my god it’s the God of Sex!’ the teenager suddenly blurts out, hanging from the window, ‘Hey, God of Sex, can I masturbate to death?’

‘There have been some cases where people have masturbated to death,’ Yoongi wipes at his face, hoping the paint won’t get into his eyes. The lion shakes his mane, making the small splashes of paint he gets on his mane worse.

The God of Mischief’s face falls at that.

‘Wait- for real?’

‘Maybe these people had some preexisting conditions but-‘

‘I’m never going to wank ever again.’

‘-…you can masturbate in moderation, you should be fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Am I sure-,’ Yoongi stops himself, ‘Which door?’

‘…you need to go through all of them-‘

‘-I will literally make it so that you can never get a boner ever again.’

‘FINE IT’S THE 7^TH DOOR!’

‘I’m taking the lion with me!’ Yoongi yells, ‘Stop using animals in your tricks and pranks! It’s cruel!’

‘JUST GO AWAY!’

Well the lion seems to like the colours on him, grunting merrily as he follows Yoongi through the 7^th door.

‘Maybe this is a sign I should go back home,’ Yoongi sighs before really looking at the lion. ‘Hey, I think you and Hobi will like each other a lot. Lions are like, somehow connected with light and all that right?’

The lion flicks his ears in response.

After dropping off the lion at Hoseok’s temple, much to his initial fright and then absolute delight, Yoongi decides it’s high time he get back to his temple. He’s lost painting time for today so-

Wait.

WAIT.

Yoongi realizes he’s not in his temple and Jimin was probably already there and-

Picturing his temple Yoongi bursts through his doors and into his clean quiet hallway. He listens carefully for any movement or sound from within the place. He hears nothing except for his own steady dripping of paint and water on the floors. He makes his way to his painting room but it’s empty, his canvas still covered in the sheet. He scurries about, looking into random rooms Jimin has been in before. But Jimin is nowhere to be seen.

Great, he missed Jimin.

In his attempt to look for Jimin, he completely missed him here.

‘Why are you covered in paint?’

Yoongi nearly jumps out of his skin.

Coming out of the balconies is Namjoon and Jimin. Between them is a large pot with a sapling inside of it. A sapling Yoongi does not recognize as any of the foliage he grew in his temple. They both look like they’ve been doing whatever this was for a while now. Sleeves rolled up, hair pushed back, sweat dotting their foreheads.

‘I…was pranked?’ Yoongi replies before very quickly adding, ‘What’s going on?’

‘Oh! I wanted to bring this over! It’s a sampling from the Osun-Osogbo Sacred Grove,’ Namjoon smiles, ‘I thought you’d like it!’

‘Oh,’ Yoongi glances at the sapling and then at Jimin.

‘I was just here looking for you!’ Jimin explains, arms starting to shake a little, ‘And I met Namjoon! So I offered to help him!’

Yoongi instantly goes over to Jimin’s side and helps carry the large pot. It was very heavy, how did Namjoon bring it in here all by himself?! Just because they were gods, didn’t mean they were specifically all super strong or whatever- it really depended on what type of god you were. But then again, it made some sense that Namjoon would be strong?

‘We were looking for a good place to keep this little guy,’ Namjoon nods towards the sapling. ‘Right little buddy? A nice sunny place, but with water close by.’

‘Well, I guess the southern lawn?’ Yoongi nods his head towards the right. ‘It’s very sunny there, and there’s like, fountains and stuff.’

‘That sounds good, thanks Yoongi.’

‘I mean…yeah, no problem,’ Yoongi sighs out.

They reach the southern lawn, an area that was supposed to inspire the tropics and for some reason was the most common location throughout the temple to host an orgy. There was a massive fire-pit in the center, and at night it would be lit, creating more heat in the partially enclosed space. But Yoongi was not about that lifestyle so it was now a quiet lawn where Yoongi liked to garden every now and then. The fire-pit is still there but remade and smaller, with aqua ducts set up to supply the plant-life in the place with water. He purposefully created the lawn to radiate into spiral formation, making it a good place to meditate as well. Or just nap.

‘Yoongi, this is nice,’ Namjoon looks at the lawn with approval. Yoongi feels very proud at Namjoon’s words.

They place the sampling down and Namjoon easily creates a deep pit in the lawn to place the sampling into. He breaks up the clay pot he brought the sizeable sapling in, telling Yoongi it would break down as fertilizer for a good period of time so he wouldn’t need to really tend to it personally.

‘He’s beautiful,’ Jimin tells Namjoon.

‘Thank you,’ Namjoon smiles, ‘I wanted to give him a home- actually I’m not supposed to do this-‘

‘-what?’

‘-why?’

Namjoon looks sheepish but also a bit sad.

‘The Osun-Osogbo Sacred Shrine is fading away,’ he tells them, gently touching the fragile leaves, ‘Deforestation, urbanization, Osun, well, the God of Rivers, has merged.’

‘Oh,’ Jimin looks sad.

Unlike with the God of Fruits, sometimes, Gods or the Deities of a Sovereignty merged to form into one when their survival or meaning as singular graces was threatened or fading away. The God of Rivers, as well as many others, were merging into one. And while this wasn’t always a bad thing, for some of the Sovereignty, it also meant that it was easier to be forgotten.

Forgotten gods could never move on, lingering only as an echo, never resting, and yet never formed enough to do anything.

It’s something he’s afraid of for Namjoon. He knows for a fact, that previously, the God of Trees had previously existed as many many deities within their Sovereignty. It’s why Seokjin, who would adjust non-existent breathing mask straps around his face, used to cry without understanding why when he used to visit Namjoon’s temple in the past.

‘I just wanted this little guy to continue a while more, you know?’ Namjoon tells them.

Ultimately in the end, even as Gods, there was little they could really control. Their purpose, their lives, their energy and their meaning, all stemmed directly from what the Human Realm considered important- what they would still go to the altar (literal and metaphorical) for, regardless of what time or era.

So Namjoon saving this little sapling certainly went against what they, as gods, should be doing. But Yoongi understands.

He asks his unexpected and expected guests if they want refreshments and they both happily tell him that they do. Changing out into clean clothes and grabbing a large tray laden with glass tumblers filled with lavender infused Darjeeling bubble tea, Yoongi makes his way back to the southern lawn.

Namjoon is sitting next to the sapling, saying something to Jimin who was listening intently as he walked along the thin partitions that separated the grass from the walkway.

His movements are light and graceful, incredibly steady and yet somehow effortless too.

‘-and so, what is the axe to the tree, if the axe forgets, yet the tree never forgets?’

‘Okay, enough of that,’ Yoongi settles the tray down onto a low stone table. ‘Come and get some refreshments.’

Namjoon stops waxing philosophy and tells them instead about his recent trip to Osun-Osogno Sacred Grove and tells them about the small and forgotten culture being uprooted there. Yoongi listens as he takes the fish he caught and places it into the many interconnected ponds in the lawn. It’s sad, but the way Namjoon speaks of the inevitable, and how it didn’t necessarily mean it was the end, is strangely uplifting. He’s idly poking the remaining bubbles at the bottom of his cup when he notices Jimin looking at him. He suddenly feels a little self-conscious but instead raises an eyebrow in question.

Jimin smiles, Namjoon still talking on next to him. He points at the daisy tucked behind Yoongi’s ear. He had forgotten he had put that there after he had changed, wondering what sort of tea to make for his guests. He quietly takes it out and hands it over to Jimin.

A little while later, under the table, Jimin passes him a tangerine.

*

They sky is deepening slowly, dark clouds blotting out the stars and Yoongi doesn’t care about them. Not when the stars were illuminated right before him, not when everything beautiful existed right before him, holding his hands in his, tell him he was beautiful.

He’s sorry, he’s scared, he’s afraid and he doesn’t understand. But he’s here, they’re here, and that’s all that mattered. He keeps telling him that.

And Yoongi wants to believe.

He desperately wants to believe but he can scarcely allow himself to even hope.

‘You can.’

Yoongi remembers his voice from a dream- from a lifetime woven with the stars that shone down on them. Yoongi remembers the truth, raw and earnest in his voice, a balm over the fear breaking him apart.

‘You can.’

*

Okay Yoongi has to get this right.

Nothing was really adding up to be honest and he’s still annoyed he doesn’t know who Jimin is, and annoyed that he’s pretty sure Seokjin knew and at this point, probably Namjoon too. He pulls the sheet over his canvas once it dries, a deep sunset sky today, one that Jimin had been rather uncomfortable looking at, telling him it reminded him of fire and smoke. Honestly, Yoongi didn’t like it too much either but somehow, that’s what he ended up making.

So what was next on the list? He wasn’t really going on chronological order and was writing anything that came to his mind. He even thought about colours and decided that Jimin was definitely yellow and would be the God of Yellow only to find out that gods of colours don’t exist.

God of Grace? Or like, whatever it is you call artistically beautiful movement. Yoongi has to start somewhere, he’s going for grace.

Jimin moved with a sort of free yet controlled motion that was both effortless, and yet inimitable. Even the way his hair moved was graceful and fluid. Even when he fell off of chairs, laughing with his whole body he was graceful.

It’s difficult finding the God of Grace, because there isn’t one. Rather, there’s a God of Dance and Yoongi finds himself looking at a troop of them.

‘So…this is like, you’re all Gods of different dances?’

‘Not exactly!’ one of them, who introduced himself as Jongin, tells him.

‘It’s more like we are the God of Dance,’ the one called Taemin explains.

‘We are all a team, we work as one,’ Yugyeum adds.

‘Even apart, we all are one in the same,’ Chung Ha pipes in.

‘Exactly,’ Seulgi affirms.

‘We are the God of Dance,’ Momo cheers.

Yoongi nods slowly, ‘So…you guys don’t have a Jimin here?’

‘Ye-‘ Jongin begins but he’s elbowed by Yugyeum and Chung Ha on either side of him.

‘No!’

‘No,’ Jongin gasps out through a dazzling smile. ‘You could check the entire Sovereignty that governs the arts and performance!’

‘Thanks, I guess,’ Yoongi waves a little.

‘No problem! We hope you find him!’ Yugyeum, the tallest out of all of them, cheers, holding two thumbs up. 

Great, not only was that not useful but it was also weird as fuck. Sighing, Yoongi wonders once more if he’s just wasting his time. Maybe Jimin didn’t want to tell him because he was private like that, and Yoongi was pushing into his privacy. He was fast developing a friendship with the mysterious god and Yoongi likes it. His daily visits are honestly the best parts of his day and if by doing this he would push away or violate the trust of his new friend, then Yoongi would never forgive himself.

Also, Yoongi realizes there’s too many Gods. He was never going to find out by doing a manual search.

And so Yoongi returns to his temple. Maybe it didn’t matter. He would learn to ignore that feeling like he was missing something and brush it aside, no big deal. He’s about to settle down at his desk to go through some emails when he realizes he’s not alone in his study. The amount of administrative work they had as gods was honestly criminal.

Yoongi will forever deny the shriek he lets out upon seeing this strange god sitting in the corner of his study.

‘I’m so sorry!’ the strange god says at once, his voice low and deep, his expression genuinely apologetic.

‘Who are you?!’ Yoongi demands.

‘I’m Taehyung,-‘

Oh. This was Taehyung, the God of Memories. Jimin’s friend. He’s quite tall and willowy, wearing a long dark cloak that appeared to be made of feathers. His hair is just as dark too, slightly curled and seemingly moving in a breeze that was only directed at him.

And okay he was low-key intimidating.

‘-and I just wanted to drop by and ask how you’re doing.’

‘…I’m fine?’

‘That’s good to hear!’ Taehyung holds up two thumb’s up.

‘Why are you here?’

‘I just told you?’

‘No,’ Yoongi regains his wherewithal and stands to his full height. ‘You told me the excuse, tell me the reason.’

‘Ah,’ Taehyung actually does look sheepish for a moment, and he’s less than low-key intimidating as he shrugs his shoulders as though a little shy, scratching the side of his neck and avoiding eye contact.

‘Well, I just wanted to know why my Jiminie was always coming here,’ Taehyung explains.

‘…your Jiminie.’ Yoongi intones, unsure why he felt an odd shiver run down his spine.

‘Not mine mine!’ Taehyung splutters to explain and he really loses any semblance to being anywhere near intimidating. ‘He is his own person! His own god! Not in an egotistic way!’

‘Right.’

‘So I just. Wanted to see. Who you were.’

‘Well, I’m Yoongi, God of Sex, and all that.’

‘Cool.’

‘Yeah.’

They just look at each other, awkwardness mounting.

‘Well! This was fun, sorry for just coming in here, by the way, you should keep signs around the place! I keep getting lost!’ Taehyung claps twice, preparing to leave.

‘…or you could wait by the doorway, like everyone else does.’

‘I came in through the window?’

‘You-.’ Yoongi stops himself, taking in a deep breath. ‘Well, I might as well lead you out.’

‘Will you?’ Taehyung’s eyes turn large, looking very young and somehow small, ‘Thank you!’

‘Yeah yeah,’ Yoongi grumbles, gesturing to Taehyung to follow him.

‘You’re like, so grumpy but cute!’ Taehyung observes, ‘It’s adorable.’

No one has called him adorable. He was the God of Sex, no one called him adorable. He doesn’t know how to answer so he doesn’t. Taehyung doesn’t say much after that, just humming under his breath occasionally, always a tune Yoongi feels like he’s heard before but can’t quite place it, or reaching out to randomly touch the wall or curtains or even the frames of the paintings if he was close enough.

‘Well, here’s the door,’ Yoongi slows to pause by the doorway that refused to keep a door no matter how many times Yoongi has tried.

‘Thank you!’ Taehyung skips out, feathery long coat fluttering behind and for a moment, it was almost as though he was flying, the coat splitting into two to form dark large wings. But the vision is gone the moment he lands on the bottom steps.

‘Hey,’ Yoongi finds himself calling after the God.

‘Hm?’ Taehyung looks around.

‘Who is he?’

Taehyung studies him for a while.

Maybe it was the fact that he was the God of Memories but there’s something inconceivably uncanny about Taehyung. What Yoongi thought was an intimidating face or features wasn’t quite right. There’s a depth to his expression, to his very soul that echoed out through his eyes- there’s something hypnotic about him that makes Yoongi want to break their gaze but he can’t. It’s almost as though he won’t.

‘Oh Yoongi,’ he finally says with a somewhat fond smile. ‘He’s everything.’

*

The sky is troubled. Strange sights fill the clear sky and the children cheer but everyone else hides and cowers.

The sky is clear and large clouds float idyllically high above, the promise of a productive harvest.

They don’t talk about it.

Not here, not in their little world.

They don’t talk about what they know will happen. They’ve heard the older people in the village talk about it. They’ve heard about it in the singular radio in the doctor’s house.

Here, they turn away from the sky, facing each other.

They don’t talk about it but there’s nothing else they can say.

The entirety of the sky, the promise it held, is waiting for him, right before him, in his eyes.

Yoongi wishes he was brave enough to take it.

*

Today was temple service day. Basically, Yoongi goes down to the temples on the Human Realm to check in on how things were going. His temples, as inherited from Sunmi, were also safe places for sex workers to come and rest or find safety. Being a sovereign Being over something and yet not exercising control over how or where or why what you want to convey or teach was frustrating but also understandable.

He wishes though, that his temples in the Human Realm weren’t so dimly lit and heavy with that smoky incense. At least today they seemed to be using some sort of lavender based infused mineral oil as the main fuel for the smaller candles so it’s a good relaxing scent. He hasn’t even readied himself to receive the prayers when there’s a very desperate looking young man before him. There were temple guards who seemed to have chased after him but Yoongi waves them away with a small sigh. The guards bow, making Yoongi squirm inwardly before stepping out. 

‘Goddess divine-‘ Yoongi could roll his eyes, ‘I have a most pressing need for your grace and help.’

Yoongi really does not like flowery prayers.

‘I must increase the size of my manhood.’

Unsurprising request, Yoongi’s heard it many times before. But honestly, Yoongi can do nothing about this.

‘The size of your manhood has nothing to do with your skill in the bed.’ Yoongi replies, hoping the glamour that shrouds him is good enough to filter his voice and expression into a supportive yet sympathetic one.

‘My mistress- she says my dick is too small.’

‘I-…okay,’ Yoongi quietly takes a deep breath, maintaining his professionalism. ‘Does she say this to you in bed?’

‘She says this to me quite constantly, that I cannot satisfy her. But I can! I will show her that I can! I just need to increase the size of my manhood.’

Yoongi’s only wish for the day was that the first prayer would at least be a decent one.

‘Your mistress, is she your lover?’

‘She implies that she will be, but she will not take me.’

Yoongi wants to cover his face with his hands.

‘I don’t know the depths of your relationship with this lady, your mistress, but I think it is best for you not to continue in this path.’

‘What?’

‘Also, I cannot increase the size of your dick- manhood. You’re not in the correct century for that at any rate,’ Yoongi sighs, ‘Be at peace, and be patient for the one who will accept you and the size of your manhood.’

‘But mistress-‘

‘You are dismissed.’

Yoongi knows the repercussion of giving out detailed advise. He doesn’t know enough of what was happening with this man to give out a singular advice that might work for his case. Was he harassing a woman of noble standing and she was keeping him at bay by saying she didn’t want to sleep with a man with a small dick? Was she actually just stringing this guy along and toying with him? Was she actually into some sort of humiliation kink? Who knew, either way, as Seokjin told him, it was best to give a more general advice in things like this. Unlike with Namjoon who would sometimes write out scientific formulae that had to be followed down to the tee to create the perfect fertilizer for a specific kind of tree or sapling.

The days goes on in this vein unfortunately and Yoongi, though tired and frustrated (and very worried with some of these prayers), still does his best to give the best general advice.

He’s moved to another time in the Human Realm and was reclining on a wonderfully comfortable recliner, idly picking apart a pomegranate when there’s something that catches his eye.

Hoseok is dressed in a very violently coloured sweater that reads MOSCHINO in bold on the front, shorts that are blindingly white, socks that are somehow holographic, and a transparent bucket hat that was surely a hazard for airplanes because of how violently reflective they were. And there he was, waving violently at him, with absolutely no subtlety from the doorway of his human world temple.

Yoongi looks down at the still quite long list of people waiting for their chance for an audience with him. He couldn’t abandon these prayers. And Hoseok knows that. So the reason why Hoseok was here, was clearly because of something very important.

He calls his temple priestesses over and tells them to usher the list of people to another waiting room as he was being urgently called back into Olympus. The priestesses bow, pearls and flowers adorning their hair and neck. Yoongi himself was draped in pearls and Yoongi thinks they’re nice but accidently sitting on a whole string really hurt- he would know from experience. He waits as the people are ushered away before walking up to Hoseok. But before he can, a few people break away and well- Yoongi doesn’t know why, but the moment people ran towards him, his first and foremost instinct was to run.

He sometimes wondered, the way it was with Seokjin with his mask, and the way it was for Namjoon with glasses, if this was something from when he was human.

But alas, he’s wearing impractical draping robes and strings of pearls and flower petals and so he’s not quite as fast as he wants to be. Also running when you had large boobs without a firm supporting sports bra really hurt and Yoongi’s respect for people with boobs, as per usual, sky rockets during such trying times.

‘Goddess! Goddess divine-!’

‘Oh fire of my loins, my breath of life-!’

‘GODDESS! GODDESS PLEASE-!’

Someone manages to get really close just as Yoongi spies an opportune escape window. Literally, a window.

‘What would you consider is the most sexy thing-?’ someone sprints from another hallway. Yoongi has to suddenly pause, causing the man to fall flat on his face.

‘CONSENT! CONSENT IS SEXY!’ Yoongi yells as he sprints past the man who has probably broken his nose.

He jumps out of the window, transforming into a dove and flutters down out of the pantheon and makes his way to the back of the temple. He hopes Hoseok will catch on and find him here. But before he can shift, a pair of hands carefully clasp over him and despite aggressively flapping his wings, he cannot free himself. He comes face to face with the face of a lady.

‘My lady goddess,’ she addresses him beseechingly, ‘I am excruciatingly sorry, I will cut and bring the freshest of roses, the reddest of apples, the sweetest of pomegranates, the purest of olive oil, everyday as penance for this terrible-‘

‘-please do not create ultimatums for yourselves like this,’ Yoongi groans, ‘There are genuinely some gods out there who will take you up on your word and curse you if they so choose.’

‘Curse me if you must, but I must ask you, I beseech you, please help me.’

She genuinely looks distressed, not just horny and desperate. Yoongi stops struggling.

‘Tell me what causes you such distress?’

‘I will soon be married,’ she explains, ‘And my husband to be, he is kind and has no limit to how much he has provided me with.’

‘Congratulations.’

‘I am to be married next week and well, it’s not like we have not…not done things.’

‘Uh huh.’

She looks ashamed saying this and Yoongi wishes he could tell her there was nothing to be shameful of.

He spots Hoseok casually rounding up around the street.

‘And he was gentle and sweet at first and now he- he wishes to well, he wants me to learn more.’

‘What?!’ Yoongi does a double take.

‘It’s just…he’s been saying he wants something more-‘

Yoongi feels his feather ruffle against his will.

‘Listen lady, I’ll say this over and over again if I have to but no one, NO ONE, should be making you feel inadequate, regardless if it’s related to sex. You should not do anything you don’t want to do- do not compromise on the things you cannot and will not do- you lose more than you gain anything-‘

‘-but I want him to be happy.’ She tells him earnestly, ‘He has given me so much, I must give him something though I have nothing but my body.

Yoongi really needs to get going but- he really does not like what he was hearing. But he also knows he cannot tell this lady that her husband to be was simply making her feel indebted to him to hold power over her. He studies her carefully: she wasn’t dressed very richly, her skin was browned and suggested she didn’t lead a life of luxury and privilege. Her husband to be was probably a rich merchant or military. And maybe he just needed to learn how to communicate his kinks better, but Yoongi just has a gut instinct about this.

‘-and what about you? What about your happiness?’

‘Um-‘

‘Think about that. Does doing whatever he wants you to do make YOU happy? Last I checked, sex between two people meant consent and satisfaction for BOTH parties.’

‘I-…’ she looks confused, blinking hard, clearly thinking back.

‘When you have sex, are you satisfied? Is it when you want it? If you won’t want it, does he respect your wishes?’

She doesn’t answer- her pulse is all over the place and Yoongi knows he cannot be invested.

‘Listen,’ Yoongi doesn’t have to worry much about emoting much, as a dove, he’s very limited, so he puts emphasis on his voice. ‘I don’t know who you are, or your life, or in fact, much about this man who is to be your husband. Your joy, your happiness, is what should matter most to you. You are a wonderful resourceful and intelligent woman- love is yours to have, but it should never be something you settle on out of obligation or a way to repay debt.’

Her hold on him is lose and Yoongi could fly off but he doesn’t.

‘You are blessed,’ he tells her gently, ‘And I have heard you, seek the quiet of your thoughts where you feel most safe, where you can be yourself, and think carefully through the prayer you have shared with me.’

‘I will, beloved goddess.’ She carefully lets go of him, ‘Thank you for your benevolence and grace.’

‘If you seek protection, come to the pantheon and seek shelter with my priestesses, you will befall no harm.’

She bows deeply before walking away quietly.

‘Wow Yoongi that was beautiful-‘ another pair of hands grab him and it’s not as gentle as the previous lady.

‘Let go of me right now.’ Yoongi squawks.

‘Wait- can I do that thing where you let go of doves for peace or something?’

‘I’ll show you peace-!’

Hoseok wheezes, setting him down again. Yoongi appears but this time as himself.

‘What is it?’ he demands, brushing his shoulders and sleeves for dust, ‘Why would you disturb me during temple duty? You know I’m gonna have to extend this to another slot again-.’

‘I’ve been able to talk to his friends!’ Hoseok tells him excitedly.

‘That was fast-?’ Yoongi gawks at the God of Light.

‘-and they wouldn’t tell me who Jimin was either.’

‘…you came down here, dressed like that, in this era, to tell me that?’

‘No.’ Hoseok replies firmly, ‘I came here to tell you that Jimin is a minor god, but his sovereignty is ancient. Like, genuinely, it’s very old.’

‘Oh,’ Yoongi frowns.

‘Also couldn’t find his Temple, which suggests maybe he doesn’t have one.’

‘He’s an ancient, but doesn’t have a Temple?’ Yoongi asks, confused.

Hoseok gives him a deadpan look meaning Yoongi was clearly missing some information here.

Jimin not having a Temple and yet being an Ancient was baffling and also slightly frightening. While as God of Sex, Yoongi was definitely an Ancient himself, his sovereignty was regarded as a form wrought and shaped into a deity that was referred to in worship.

The Ancients were the primal acts- sex, fear, death, life, joy, birth, sorrow, wisdom, hunt, all of that and more. But most of them had their temples or were referred to as Elements. But Jimin could not be an Element- he had an actual form to him.

So that would mean-

He belonged to the Hearth.

The Hearth was where Gods, minor, ancient, major, new, or old of a specific nature lived.

Yoongi nearly face plants on the marble wall before him. Of course. It made sense, Taehyung and Jungkook also belonged to the Hearth. The God of Memory and the God of Beginnings would certainly live in the Hearth.

They were gods who held no physical or corporeal manifestation on the Human Realm and yet existed so numerously within the very premise and heart of human existence itself, they appeared in possession of a form, guiding and tempering their Sovereignty in the quiet spaces between sleep, dream, and safety.

That greatly changed how Yoongi was going to have to approach this.

Also he should have considered the Hearth before, he literally knew both Taehyung and Jungkook were Gods from the Hearth.

Irene’s words to him resound in his head again. Thank you, God of Beauty.

Also it made sense when Yoongi had asked Jimin about that place will the knolls and tangerine tree. That hadn’t been his temple. It had been his safe place; a place of Safety. Gods of the Hearth did not have temples in a traditional sense- those of the Hearth, existed purely within the realm of the sanctity of humanity’s heart. Rather, they wandered around, learning, remembering, understanding – but they always had a point of return, not quite a place of a worship, rather the blessedness of the sovereignty they held as Gods that they experienced once as Humans.

So that place Yoongi found himself in. It was a place Jimin felt safest in, a place he held on to as a human.

‘I couldn’t find it obviously, otherwise I think it might prove to be useful in knowing who he is.’

‘Find what?’ Yoongi asks, dragging his thoughts back to the present.

‘His Safety,’ Hoseok explains. ‘I don’t think I can be of more help Yoongs, if he’s of the Hearth, it’s gonna be tricky figuring him out.’

But Yoongi did. He absolutely did, he was there.

‘I met Taehyung yesterday,’ he tells Hoseok abruptly.

‘Oh?’ Hoseok looks surprised.

‘Well, I mean he was in my temple- in my study actually.’

‘Admin stuff?’

Yoongi nods and Hoseok gives him a sympathetic expression.

‘Yeah, he said…’ Yoongi hasn’t been able to shake his words out of his mind. ‘I asked him, who Jimin was.’

‘And?’ Hoseok presses.

‘He said…he said he was everything.’

‘…that doesn’t explain anything.’

‘I know…but I-…I don’t know why but,’ Yoongi leans on the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, ‘It’s like I’ve heard those words before. But I just- I don’t know from where. And I think, Taehyung might have done that on purpose.’

‘Well…he is the God of Memories.’ Hoseok says slowly before he pauses, his eyes literally glowing, a little light bulb going off inside his head. ‘You need to remember.’

‘What?’

‘You said you had a feeling you heard those words before right?’

‘-surely something the God of Memories wanted to do for the sake of playing with me?’

‘Yoongi not everyone is out to get you.’

Yoongi grimaces at Hoseok.

‘Just, think about it for a moment,’ Hoseok tries to explain himself, ‘You said it yourself right? You think you’re forgetting something, maybe there’s something you need to remember.’

‘That’s a kinda broad statement-‘

‘-about Jimin.’ Hoseok shrugs, ‘There’s something you need to remember about Jimin.’

‘Not remembering, is the same as not knowing,’ Yoongi intones bluntly, ‘I don’t know Jimin, why do you think I’m doing all of this?’

‘You’re looking elsewhere for this information, maybe it’s somewhere in here?’ Hoseok taps the side of his head.

Yoongi sighs, half frustrated at the situation and at himself, and half worried too.

‘I was wondering if I was…if I was maybe uh, just in general, doing the wrong thing, you know?’ Yoongi slides down the wall until he’s crouched up in a small bundle. Hoseok crouches down similarly, mirroring him. ‘I think I’ve kinda been paranoid, you know-‘

‘-yeah,’ Hoseok nods, ‘Understandable.’

‘Maybe he just. Maybe he just wants to be friends. You know?’

Hoseok smiles nodding shortly.

‘Maybe if I just…just let things be, then it’ll eventually come to me?’

‘Yeah,’ Hoseok hums, turning his head to look around at the streets. The markets were still operating and even thought the sun was setting, the city is lively and alive. ‘Well, I was actually gonna meet up with Jungkook tomorrow, you wanna come?’

‘I think that might be overstepping on my behalf,’ Yoongi shakes his head before adding, ‘Wow, you’re getting all chummy with the Hearth.’

‘Hey,’ Hoseok shrugs, this time with a bright grin, ‘They’re actually really nice.’

They both stand up, adjusting their clothing as they do so.

‘Shall we head back? Wanna grab something to eat?’ Hoseok asks.

‘No, I want to head back and speak to my priestesses,’ Yoongi waves a hand, ‘You go on ahead. I’ll see you later Hobi, thanks for coming down to tell me this.’

‘No problem man!’ Hoseok throws some random human gesture at him before turning and disappearing like he wasn’t even there in the first place.

Yoongi switches back to the form of a dove and makes his way up to the window he had leapt through, reappearing in the halls in full glamour.

‘Goddess?’ a priestess who was cleaning up some of the broken décor spots him at once. ‘All have left.’

‘I see,’ Yoongi replies before crouching down a little. As one of the Gods of the era, his depiction portrays him as slightly larger than the average human. ‘Priestess, our temple may soon be sought for refuge, a young bride to be, I have given her my word that she may find safety within these walls, see to that those who seek protection under my name will be looked after.’

‘Of course,’ the priestess bows her head. ‘Your love is as bountiful as the seas.’

Actually it was just being decent but Yoongi can’t really say that.

‘The offerings are very less for the day,’ she tells him.

‘It is no matter, my grace will always pour forth here,’ Yoongi reassures her. Honestly, he has no idea what he would do with all of those roses and olive oil. A lot of the times, items and objects associated with gods were simply each new god’s sudden whim or inclination, or lingering fondness from their time as a human. Yoongi has had no specifications though he knows that because of Sunmi, cats were now starting to be associated with the name of the God of Sex. Thank you Sunmi. Next time someone calls him a sexy kitten, he will go on a murderous rampage.

‘Will you and the other priestesses have enough for today?’ Yoongi asks, ‘I will come once more tomorrow to hear and receive the tributes and prayers.’

‘Of course,’ she replies, ‘We always enjoy a heart meal as provided by the kind reach of your hand.’

And this was why Yoongi didn’t like staying down here for his duties much. He knew it was important to speak to his era-based staff but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable. He knows Sunmi was a lot more friendly and Yoongi does his best to look after those who served under his name. He knows of the past when those under his name would commit terrible crimes or cast ridiculous punishments on their followers and staff.

‘You have done well priestess,’ Yoongi tells her, ‘You are blessed.’

She bows and Yoongi takes his very hasty leave, knowing he would leave no trace of himself, only whatever the glamour extended to that particular priestess. Normally the fragrance of incense, roses, or even a shimmering dusty residue that lingered in the air for a while.

Either way, with some relief, Yoongi sheds his glamour and finds himself before the doors of his temple. Gods didn’t really require sleep, but Yoongi does enjoy laying down. And that was most certainly where he was headed. He’s not sure what to think anymore. He knows he wants to know who Jimin was. He also wants to respect Jimin’s privacy, and respect his decision to not tell Yoongi about himself. It’s not like when he first made friends with Seokjin he was sharing all sorts of truths and discussions with him. But there’s a strange gut instinct deep in him telling him he needed to know.

He needed to remember.

Gods didn’t always remember their lives as Humans. Some remembered more than most, some didn’t remember anything, some remembered enough to want to forget everything. Yoongi just doesn’t remember actual memories of his life. He knows his age when he came here, meaning the age he died, and he knows it hadn’t been an easy one either. He knows he likes aged whisky, that he likes the colour blue, that he doesn’t have any specific food he likes but can eat anything. He knows he’s fond of small animals, of crafting, of doing things with his hands- he knows without a doubt he’s asexual.

And beyond that, Yoongi cannot remember much.

He knows that Hoseok has absolutely no memories of his life as a human. He knows that Namjoon remembers some and often went to the places he used to frequent when he was human. He knows Seokjin wishes he could forget.

‘You’ve already given me everything and more.’

Yoongi has no idea what Jimin meant.

At the end of the doorway, appearing as though expecting him, Jimin ducks past the pillars. Everything about him belongs there. Belongs here.

‘Temple duty?’

Yoongi nods.

‘How was it?’ Jimin asks, walking towards him. Yoongi doesn’t even think of questioning his presence here.

He welcomes it, the way everything about Jimin seemed to welcome him.

Yoongi stops in front of Jimin, and the mysterious god seems to notice his somewhat strange mood.

‘Is something wrong?’ he asks at once.

‘No,’ Yoongi shakes his head.

He wonders why he didn’t realize it before.

The strange ache in his chest, the feeling that he was missing something, ebbs away quietly, like ripples in a pong settling and smoothing down until the surface is completely still again.

‘Happy to be done for the day,’ Yoongi gets out.

Jimin accepts his answer with a smile and nods to the side, ‘I took the liberty of making tea! You have a lot!’

Yoongi laughs under his breath, following the mysterious god, ‘You’re making yourself very comfortable in my temple.’

Jimin looks around, genuinely worry in his eyes, ‘I won’t do it again, I’m so sorry, I should have asked.’

‘It’s okay,’ Yoongi replies quickly, earnestly, ‘Don’t worry about it. You can come here any time. Do whatever. I mean, like, no orgies, stuff like that.’

Jimin laughs, throwing his head back.

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

*

The sky is tranquil in it’s darkness. Who had said it, that the sky was always darkest right before dawn?

But for Yoongi, he feels like he’s been waiting for the dawn for all his life. But maybe, instead of waiting for it, he should simply find it himself.

And he thinks he does.

He knows he has.

The dawn is with him. And like the sun he shines down on him. And like the moon, shining only because of the sun, Yoongi is shining too.

Their foreheads are touching, and Yoongi has never known bliss like this.

The sky is dark, the fading echoes of distant wailing sirens still linger but here, the sun is shining. The sun was shining, and he would always be Yoongi’s.

And like the moon, Yoongi would always follow him.

*

Yoongi sends his last report, viciously tapping the send button. Well, as vicious as you would with a singular click of the mouse. Jimin had only left a little while ago, having spent most of his time next to Yoongi, simply watching him write back emails and respond to inquiries on his many Human Realm temples. Yoongi was worried Jimin would be bored. Watching someone write emails was not a past time anyone would particularly enjoy but Jimin didn’t seem to mind. He just pulls his legs up, drawing his knees up and resting his chin on them. Instead he asks if he’s bothering Yoongi.

After a while, he pulls out a tangerine from his pocket and starts to peel it, handing Yoongi a piece every now and then.

Yoongi stands from his chair, stretching a little and yawning mightily. He nearly trips when his doorbell rings. Yoongi does NOT remember having a doorbell. Or installing one.

Rushing out to his main doorway, Yoongi is all sorts of surprised to find an oddly familiar god waiting for him.

‘What-?’

‘Good morning! I need your help!’ Kookie states.

He’s dressed differently than the last time Yoongi saw him. He’s wearing some sort of 21^st century hotel bathrobe and seemingly no pants as Yoongi can see how his tattoos are not limited to only his arms.

‘Oh-‘ Yoongi blinks at the god rather blankly.

‘So uh, can you? Help?’ Kookie leans back and forth on the balls of his feet.

‘Right, yeah, sure thing,’ Yoongi finds himself replying.

‘Thank you!’ Kookie cheers.

‘Uh, what do you need help in?’ Yoongi belatedly asks.

‘I have a date!’ Jungkook grins, ‘Wanna look good!’

Yoongi is taken aback. He’s experienced this many times, where a god would come to him for advice. Not in a weird gross way, but to ask genuine advice related to sexual pleasure, how to get into BDSM, or to understand kinks and fetishes. And Yoongi is always ready to share and explain any questions his fellow gods may have for him. But for some reason, if these gods find out somewhere along the line that Yoongi was asexual, they would immediately doubt his advice and reconsider what he’s said. He once had the God of Rain tell him he couldn’t trust Yoongi because as an asexual, he probably wasn’t mature enough to give him advice on sex. How could someone who has never experienced sex be mature enough to give him, the God of Rain, advice on BDSM? Yoongi hadn’t really said it (though Seokjin probably knew), but that had genuinely hurt his feelings a lot. Then it made him angry of course. Sex had nothing to do with maturity and it was incredibly toxic to assume so.

‘…you know, there’s probably a god out there that’s better at this than me?’ Yoongi could name a few right now. Heck, Irene would probably give fantastic advice. Or maybe that was his personal bias speaking again. Sigh.

‘Sure, but I trust your judgment.’

Yoongi is surprisingly touched.

‘Based on what?’

Jungkook looks around at Yoongi as they walk into a large closet space.

‘I know you’re not gonna bullshit me.’

Actually Yoongi could if he wanted. He could absolutely bullshit anything and he will do it with a straight face. But well, someone’s trusting him to give fashion advice (of all things) so Yoongi might as well return the trust with his best effort at helping this god out.   

The closet space is large, and Yoongi vaguely recognizes this place as an archive of sorts.

‘Did you ask the Archivist for permission?’ Yoongi asks.

‘Of course!’ Kookie sounds affronted.

‘Just making sure,’ Yoongi grunts, looking around for a chair and finding it immediately. ‘You- you were in the temple of the God of Spring.’

‘Yes I was!’ Kookie beams at him, ‘Nice to meet you again.’

Yoongi rolls his eyes.

‘So…Kookie is a nickname?’ he tries tentatively as Jungkook makes an aha sound and pulls out a long display hanger.

‘The flowers call me that mostly,’ he explains before gesturing to the hanger, ‘Do you mind if I change and stuff?’

‘No problem with me,’ Yoongi shrugs, taking his seat. It’s a nice armchair and Yoongi all but sinks into it. ‘So uh, what is your name?’

Untying his bathrobe and grinning brightly at Yoongi he replies, ‘I’m Jungkook, sorry for not bringing it up before.’

And honestly Yoongi shouldn’t be surprised at this point.

‘Okay, I need your professional advice,’ Jungkook explains as he shrugs off his main robe, standing completely naked. He has an extremely nice physique, Yoongi notes, he probably worked out a lot. Maybe he should introduce him to Namjoon. Or not.

Probably not.

‘I need to look good for this date,’ Jungkook, the God of Beginnings explains, ‘And I’m indecisive, so I need someone to like, tell me what works best.’

‘Well, that depends on the where the date is taking place.’ Yoongi replies.

‘His place.’

‘So, something comfortable?’ Yoongi suggest, ‘But not like, you’re about to go in pajamas or something.’

Jungkook snickers, his nose scrunching up.

‘What time is the date?’

‘Evening! That’s why I came to you in the morning, I also know you have duties later today right?’ Jungkook adds.

‘How- okay, yeah I do,’ Yoongi probably doesn’t want to know how he knew. Wait. Didn’t Hoseok say he was meeting Jungkook today?

‘Hey. Are you taking Hoseok out on a date.’

Jungkook beams at him, nodding enthusiastically.

‘I…’ Yoongi is being surprised at every literal turn he was taking. ‘Wait a fucking minute, does Hoseok know this is a date?!’

‘Yeah!’ Jungkook nods enthusiastically before he pulls two outfits, the clothes filling out to take Jungkook’s form as though he was wearing it himself. ‘Which one do you think is the sexier outfit?’

First of all Yoongi is surprised that anyone who knew him (at an introductory level) would ask him what he thought was sexy. Most beings seem to forget that just because he identified as ace didn’t mean he didn’t have eyes. Maybe he wouldn’t necessarily see the whole sexual appeal behind something or maybe necessarily associate the desire or invocation for sex by seeing something or smelling something or tasting it, but he can still objectively classify what was and wasn’t sexy.

‘The red outfit,’ Yoongi says after eyeing both outfits. ‘Will you leave that part unbuttoned?’

Secondly-

‘Yeah!’ Jungkook looks maybe too innocently excited at the aspect of wearing such a sexy outfit. ‘Also, should I just leave my hair like this, or like, slick it back?’

‘Make it look wet. That normally always looks sexier than just dry hair,’ Yoongi crosses his arms, critically eyeing Jungkook’s hair.

‘You’re right!’

‘Pretty sure dry hair looks sexy too, but with that outfit I’d definitely go with the sleek look you know?’ Yoongi then points to the shoes, ‘I think heels will be great.’

‘Not too much?’ Jungkook picks up the slim ankle boots with a good two inch heel.

‘Not at all,’ Yoongi shakes his head before he remembers his second point: ‘Hey, when you asked Hoseok out on a date, how did you ask him?’

‘I asked him if he wanted to go out?’ Jungkook says as though it was the most simple thing ever. Yoongi all but slaps his own face.

‘Okay, did you, you know, specify, that this was going to be a date?’

Jungkook’s smiling face falters a little.

‘Uh-…’ Jungkook pauses, ‘No? When you…ask someone out, or like, to go out, isn’t that…a date?’

‘…okay you know what, I can guarantee you that Hoseok has NO IDEA that this is a date,’ Yoongi sighs out, ‘We’re gonna tone down the sexiness. Also!’ he gestures to the outfit, ‘You’re trying too hard! There’s no need! You’re attractive, good looking, and you know, seem like a nice dude-‘

‘-thanks.’ Jungkook deadpans.

‘-and Hoseok’s always had a kinda weird fashion sense, so like, you could literally wear those robes and he would think it was cool or something,’ Yoongi waves a hand flippantly, ‘Like, wear whatever.’

‘So I could still, technically wear this outfit then?’ Jungkook points at the deep red ensemble.

‘…yeah sure I guess,’ Yoongi shrugs, defeated.

‘Cool!’ Jungkook is once again, too happy with this outfit choice.

‘You know what, choose some mismatched earrings, one longer than the other.’

‘Ooh!’

Accessories and shoes and an armful of sunflowers (cliché but Yoongi knows for a fact Hoseok absolutely adored sunflowers) ready, Jungkook is practically vibrating in excitement for his date.

‘First you need to swear that you’re going to immediately state that you’re asking him on a date,’ Yoongi points at the god. ‘Second, once he realizes this, you’re not pressuring him or any of that shit.’

Jungkook looks offended but Yoongi still has another point to make.

‘However, once everything is clear and understood, and Hoseok agrees to the date, do enjoy yourselves.’

Jungkook beams at that.

‘I will! Thank you Yoongi.’

Yoongi waves a hand in reply.

‘Well, I’m gonna get going then,’ he gets up from his seat as Jungkook starts pulling on the dark red leathery pants stained in some places with a darker colouring.

‘Wait!’ Jungkook holds a hand out, nearly losing balance before righting himself.

‘Hm?’

‘Wanted to say I’m sorry for like, playing with you I guess, that time in the Temple of Spring.’ Jungkook apologizes earnestly.

‘Why won’t anyone tell me.’ Yoongi asks.

Jungkook pulls up his pants and buttons himself up before replying.

‘Because he’s waiting for you to remember.’

*

The sky isn’t above him.

There are bare branches, broken and burnt, ashen and soot-covered.

The sky is hidden. Smoke, fire, dust, ash.

Yoongi can taste it on his lips, on his tongue. It’s in his throat, in his stomach. The despair of everything lives deep within him, gnawing away at him. He’s surrounded and yet he’s never been more alone.

He doesn’t want to be here.

The world is cruel and Yoongi is tired of surviving, he just wants to live.

*

Honestly, Yoongi’s only half in it today. He knows he’s supposed to probably cover more prayers and tributes today but his mind is elsewhere.

The sudden onslaught of the most recent memory weighs heavy in his chest. Jungkook’s words weighing in even harder. He’s barely paying attention and he knows he’s going against Sunmi’s teachings and he really tries his best to focus. He’s told by his priestess that the woman from the other day hadn’t shown up but Yoongi isn’t worried or surprised.

The passage of time is slow and heavy and every single prayer and tribute drags on. But amidst this drudgery, Yoongi notes how there’s a young man who approaches, his turn coming up next, but he keeps backing out to the back of the line. He does this until no one else is left and he seems to be having second thoughts as the lamps dim, signaling that the hours for tributes was over.

‘Will you tell me your prayers?’ Yoongi calls after the quietly slinking away man. He jumps, surprised to hear Yoongi call after him.

‘Goddess, you are kind,’ he gets out, half turned towards him, half turned towards the doorway, ‘I was- I just had some thoughts, but I am needed elsewhere now, I deeply apologize.’

Before Yoongi can stop him he manages to run off.

Yoongi feels a little bad for not having done a better job today. He could try and at least listen to this prayer and hopefully help this young man out. Yoongi thinks he might just do another series of temple duties the coming few days. He allows himself to fade before the visions of his priestesses as he walks out of the pantheon. He spies the young man, just around the turn of the street leading up to the pantheon. He genuinely looks worried, a look of self-annoyance set on his features. He looks back up at the pantheon before turning his back and walking away.

There’s a finality to his movements and actions that spurs Yoongi forward. Adjusting his glamour before approaching the young man, Yoongi quietly ducks through a stall to cut across his path.

The young man startles when Yoongi appears before him but hastily ducks his head in a quick bow once he recognizes her robes and jewels.

‘Priestess, forgive me I didn’t see you.’

‘It’s okay,’ he replies, ‘The Goddess sent me to speak to you.’

‘What?’

‘She heard your prayers, your concerns. She bade me to speak to you.’

‘Oh-,’ his eyes widen before he looks around the street, worry etched in his features.

‘We can speak within the pantheon if you wish.’

‘I-…’ the young man looks uncomfortable.

‘Perhaps to the pantheon roof? It will be quiet, and you can refresh yourself at the fountains.’

‘Oh,’ he relaxes just a little before he gives him a small smile, ‘I am honoured priestess.’

‘The goddess would not have those who come before her leave without being blessed,’ Yoongi replies in the words he’s heard his priestesses say to others.

They return to the pantheon but take the back stairs to the gardens above. Normally, priestesses used this place to rest and to gather to eat and drink during the day, but at night there were too many insects to chase off and so they would return indoors instead. Yoongi hopes the young man doesn’t notice the lack of mosquitoes and other pests as they take a seat next to the sundial fountain. The young man washes his hand and pats at the back of his neck before taking a seat.

He’s not noble, Yoongi notes. But his toga and tunic are made of good fabric, the stitch is made of silk threads and the hemming around his collar has threads of purple as part of the embroidery. His sandals are sturdy, and though his skin is warmed by the sun, there is no deeper injury from continuous and laborious exposure to the sun.

They sit in silence for a while before Yoongi realizes the young man doesn’t know how to start.

‘Why did you come today, to meet with the goddess?’ he asks.

‘I…I wished for her knowledge,’ the young man gets out, ‘For her insight.’

‘As her priestess, I may carry information you may seek,’ Yoongi encourages.

The young man looks like he’s struggling within himself and Yoongi doesn’t push him. Then, slumping just a little and sighing quietly he says, ‘Priestess, this was my last resort, coming here.’

‘Your last resort?’

He nods before he says, ‘I…I am 23 summers this year. I have not lain with a woman, or a man at that.’

Yoongi has a lot of issues about how society, throughout the span of the Human timeline, seemed to hold this particular “achievement” as something you had to do in order to be fully lived and experienced human being. Either you did, or you were a religious figure withholding from sex as a form of religious sacrifice. It had to be that, or somehow, you were deemed a social pariah.

‘Is this not odd?’

‘It is not.’

‘I know stories where-…where there are those who are impotent, or they have a disease.’ He continues, not having really heard Yoongi. ‘I did not think I was diseased. But what else is there for me to accept?’

It clicks, where this was going.

‘I went to the healers, maybe this was- maybe this was a problem I have, and I asked them what this could be and I-,’ he stops, swallowing hard, ‘They told me that maybe I was cursed. And-…it does happen, I’m sorry to say this priestess but-‘

‘-it’s all right.’

‘-I do get hard, I get morning wood. But it’s not- it’s not a need for me. It goes away and it doesn’t bother me. And I have- I’ve masturbated once or twice before but I’m- it’s not…not anything particularly great for me. I am more relaxed when it happens, but I never- it’s not something I want to always do. My brother once told me he masturbated thrice a day.’ He looks so distraught at the idea of masturbating three times a day. ‘I tried- I thought, if I masturbate more, maybe I can- maybe things will kick off for me.’

He laughs, as though finding himself ridiculous.

‘It’s okay,’ Yoongi tells him quietly. Yoongi can most certainly relate to this. In fact, it’s almost as though he’s hearing his own story, his own-

‘And I thought, hey actually, when I’m very stressed, masturbating does kinda help?’ he looks desperate, ‘But I just- I can’t think of myself with- with another person, actually doing that with someone else. Like, as in my dick in someone else. Or someone else’s dick in me. Any part of me.’

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told in exacts but he gets that this young man was really going through it and so he nods.

‘I do not curse those who do- they clearly enjoy it, who am I to tell them what they should and should not enjoy! After all, I am the one who is wrong, aren’t I?’ He asks hopelessly, ‘I came here today, to ask the Goddess, if there was something wrong with me. If she could cure me, if she could fix me, so that I could be normal- like the others. Like my brothers, my friends- my father. So that I could understand what they say, so that I too could see a beautiful woman, or a man, and want to bed them.’

Yoongi wants to stop this man and shake him by the shoulders but he controls himself.

‘And- and my friends, most of them are married, or getting married, and they tell me- they tell me, I can’t be happy like this. I tell them that I am. I am!’ he emphasizes before his face crumples and he quickly ducks his head down, hands coming to cover his face as his body shakes.

‘I- I don’t know if I’m happy anymore,’ he manages to finish and Yoongi’s heart is breaking.

‘It’s okay to cry,’ Yoongi tells him quietly, ‘You can cry here, the gods see you, they hear you, there is no need to hide.’

The young man cries in earnest.

‘I-,’ he sobs out, ‘I take the carts for our trade to the towns across the region, I meet with people far and wide, I – I am pleased with what I do- I do not- I do not need anything else!’

As a priestess of the Goddess of Sex, or disguised as one, Yoongi knows he’s not allowed to touch others as part of the nonsense rule someone made ages ago. So he can’t reach out to give this crying young man a supportive hug or even hold his hand-

Because that’s what he had. He had someone to hold his hand when he had cried, when he had been shaking, telling him everything he was afraid of everything he was afraid of losing of losing him-

‘But my parents- my parents are finding someone for me, our families, our neighbours, they all believe me to be- to be some strange nuisance- as though I were imposing upon them!’ he’s stopped crying, fear and doubt being replaced with anger and bitterness. ‘I am not- I am not useless. I am- I am me- why is that not enough? What must I prove? That I cannot be me, a human, if I am not wed, if I have not lain with a woman, if I have not raised children- if I have not ploughed my seed, if am not a husband, a father- am I nothing? Am I lesser than who I deserve to be? Am I less mature? Am I less- less trustworthy?’

He remembers what Seokjin had told him. How there’s a belief, an intentionally placed sanctity over marriage as though that was the highest achievement for humans. How somehow, everyone agreed it was simply the normative goal everyone had, and that the marriage between a man and a woman was ultimately what everyone needed to work towards.

Seokjin and Yoongi sometimes had to share temple duties as their two sovereignty were so frequented intertwined. And at the beginning, Yoongi had followed Seokjin around to study and listen and learn.

‘There’s this idea,’ Seokjin had told him, sitting deep in a dug up ditch surrounded by exposed roots and small pockets of tar ready to be lit. Seokjin himself in his glamour is one with the earth, the Mother, watching over love, sex- to bring forth life, to bless and secure the birth of this villages next generation.

They both expertly ignore the sounds of the orgies outside of this muddy pit.

‘There’s this idea that those who are, quote unquote, single, are unhappy,’ he tells him sighing as he makes lumpy clay figures to pass time. ‘That without a relationship, that too, a romantically sexual one mind you- specifically between ONE man and ONE woman, not just sex because just a sex relationship is also looked down on.’ He rolls his eyes, ‘That people who are single are actively seeking to be un-single. And how, being single is somehow, an immediate welcome sign for scrutiny, like something has to be wrong with you for you to not want a relationship. Of course this is a little better for men, because you know,’ he gestures to the top outside of the mound, ‘All women really want is to be mothers and it’s their only real purpose in life.’

There’s a very funny loud moan that turns into an unfortunate hacking cough, making both Yoongi and Seokjin giggle hysterically for a moment.

‘Also, this whole virginity thing. Be a virgin! But not for too long!’ Seokjin fakes throwing up. ‘There are all these forced milestones on people, first romantic love, first time sex, first kiss- like these are so much more important than like, platonic friendships, platonic love, familial love. And it’s not! It doesn’t always have to be! These are not achievements that define who you are as a supposed “normal” person. Every form of love, love for your hobby, love for I dunno, singing, dancing, reading, exercising? Sure! Cooking! Accounting! Things like,  your job. I know I definitely treasured my first paycheck over my first kiss.’

‘You did?’

‘I think I did.’ Seokjin replies firmly, squinting a little as he thinks back into his life as a human.

‘Ah.’ Yeah, Yoongi thinks he would too, to be honest.

‘Anyways,’ Seokjin gestures tiredly above him, ‘After this, there’s going to marriage ceremonies you know? Like that was going to guarantee anything. I’m not saying don’t get married, but it’s not supposed to be the ultimate definition of your life, you know? And it shouldn’t be either. God this is tiring, I hate mud.’

Yoongi laughs, happily not covered in mud.

‘Shit like this makes people settle,’ Seokjin sighs, ‘They think they have to get married, they think they have to have children. And you’re setting up people into living miserable lives, reduced to holding on to the idea that they must be happy now that they’re married and with kids. This is the sort of thing that makes you think divorce is bad- that leaving a relationship because you’re unhappy, or because things aren’t working out makes you a bad person. You don’t need to want to leave a relationship just because it doesn’t have something horrible like abuse- and even in these cases, it’s like you’re made to think you’re not trying hard enough- as though it’s something you have to fix. Like it could always be fixed. Isn’t that, in the end, the opposite of love?’ Seokjin asks earnestly, ‘Love is- love is ours to have. It’s…it’s free, and beautiful, and it comes in every shape or form.’

Yoongi thinks he knows what Seokjin means, the shape of his heart forms into something he knows once held that kind of love. His heart once held a love that was molded and formed just for him, just for them.

‘Saying things like you’ll find the right person, or one day you’ll fall in love like anyone else. Is the love I have for my friends, my pets, for my life- myself not enough?’ Seokjin gestures wildly, ‘It’s enough! It’s more than enough.’

‘It’s more than enough,’ Yoongi says quietly.

The young man looks up, surprised.

‘What?’

‘You said you were pleased with what you have, with who you are,’ Yoongi tells him, ‘And that is more than enough.’

He’s quiet for a while, looking at Yoongi desperately.

‘What is wrong with me?’ he asks softly.

‘Nothing,’ Yoongi replies. ‘Do you know of people who eat duck?’

‘Yes?’ he looks confused.

‘Do you eat duck?’

‘On occasion?’

‘Sex, romantic love, it’s like duck.’

‘Huh?’

‘Some like it, some don’t, some don’t care for it, some will enjoy it occasionally. Some consume it excessively.’ Yoongi tells him. ‘In this case, well, both you and I do not like duck. Even after attempting to try it, and even after trying it, we don’t like it. Actually, you don’t even have to try it to know you won’t like it.’

‘Priestess,’ the young man’s eyes are wide. ‘You- you…you don’t like duck?’

Yoongi grins.

‘I don’t like duck. I don’t ever want duck.’

The young man’s facial expression flits between shock, relief, joy, amusement, and apprehension.

‘You-…you’re not lying?’

‘I am not,’ Yoongi reassures him.

‘How…how did you know?’ he asks carefully.

‘When I was maybe 15,’ Yoongi replies, he’s not sure why he’s saying this like he has an actual story he remembers-

‘You were young.’

‘I was.’ But he does. He does have a story for this. It’s-

‘What- what made you understand? I never…I never really understood or realized until I-…until I realized what I thought was normal was-well, not normal for others.’

‘It took me a while to realize,’ Yoongi tells him. ‘I didn’t understand what any of it meant.’

‘How did you find out?’

‘I had someone help me understand,’ Yoongi finds himself saying, the hair on the back of his neck is suddenly standing on end and his heart is racing. ‘I had someone help me…help me understand that I was still me.’

‘Who?’ the young man’s voice echoes and is distant. All Yoongi can hear is his laughter, all he can feel are his hands in his and-

‘He-,’ Yoongi’s breath is suddenly stuck in his throat and his eyes water.

His warmth.

‘Priestess?’

‘He was my sunshine.’ He manages to get out. ‘I was so afraid, unaware of what I was going through.’

Yoongi takes a breath and suddenly it rushes out of him, his soul, his heart narrating.

‘Why couldn’t- why couldn’t I be like the others? Why couldn’t I just…-why couldn’t I just change? Was something wrong with me? Everyone I knew, thought they only spoke of it in furtive secretive tones or boasting tones, but I just- I just never wanted any of it. I never felt like I needed it and I felt- so wrong- why didn’t I want a marriage? Why didn’t I want children? I loved taking care of the children around the village- I didn’t mind watching over the kids. They said I would make a good parent, but I just- I never wanted my own. I saw people, my own parents, who all said marriage was what made a man, that marriage was what made a woman- that after marriage, I would know. That a family of my own would make me understand.

Understand what? If my parents understood, why weren’t they happy? Why didn’t they love each other? Why didn’t they love us? Me? Why did my father do what he did, why did my mother do what she did-.’

He stops abruptly, faces and words and fears and pain flooding his mind as he remembers.

‘And- and he was always there- he was the sun, how-…how could I not love the sun?’ Yoongi asks, wiping at his face, laughing a little at himself. ‘Oh, his light. He was so bright. Everything about him- his laughter, his voice, even his pettiness, his absolute inability to win any game- he was so bright. And somehow, I don’t know how, he- his cheek was so warm against mine.’

Yoongi remembers arms wrapping around him, laughter close to his ears, as he struggles to carry him across the little stream. The way his cheek, always soft and even despite the food shortage, plump and so warm against his own.  

‘I knew what the others were doing, what people my age were doing. And what if he wanted it too? He- he wasn’t like me. He would want it. When we finally realized what we felt for each other- when we were brave enough to understand and accept it, when we first kissed each other- I was so afraid, I was so scared- what if he wanted what I couldn’t give him.’

Yoongi takes a deep breath, his body shaking but he can’t stop- memories return, flooding him and he can’t stop.

‘He held so much of me in his hands, and I was so afraid that if he let go, I would lose all of me.’ Yoongi remembers it so clearly, so vividly, colours bleeding into the nothingness, filling the sky with light and-

‘But he only wanted me, all of me. Who I am. Nothing more,’ Yoongi is smiling, joy coursing through him as the realization of it courses through him as powerfully as it did the day he learnt what it meant, ‘And he- he didn’t. He didn’t let go. He held me closer; he held me together and I- it was like I became whole.’

Yoongi doesn’t realize that the young man is also crying now.

‘Wow,’ he whispers. ‘That’s- that’s really-…really uh-‘

Yoongi smiles, ‘Yeah.’

‘Thank you for telling me, priestess,’ he sniffs, dabbing at his eyes with the sleeves of his tunic.

‘That’s- that’s how I know.’ Yoongi clears his throat, ‘That’s how I knew. And-…maybe we both don’t…don’t like duck.’

The young man laughs wetly.

‘But it’s also possible that you maybe also don’t like fish.’

The young man laughs even harder before he confesses, ‘I actually genuinely don’t like fish.’

Yoongi laughs.

‘And that’s okay too,’ Yoongi tells him, ‘I eat fish. I love fish. But that’s just me, and I will not tell you that you have to eat fish.’

‘I think- I think I understand a little more,’ he says quietly, carefully, as though reaffirming with himself.

‘Just because you don’t…just because you don’t want sex, and you don’t want a romantic love, doesn’t mean you aren’t deserving of love as it is,’ Yoongi tells him quietly, ‘Love is yours to have. No matter what type, love of your friends, love from your dog, maybe your cat, your horse! Love and friendship you share between those you know, with strangers you meet for a day, with someone you once knew and share a meal with- love for yourself. Do not settle for what others want from you, what they want of you. As- as humans, love is one of the only good things we all share in common; it is yours to have how you wish to have it.’

The night is still, the flowers in the garden have closed, asleep, waiting for the sun to return. Looking up, Yoongi finds that the moon is full and bright.

‘Thank you,’ the young man’s voice brings him down from the sky. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘I know that this won’t be easy,’ Yoongi tells him gently, ‘I know you know this won’t be easy. But I hope, that by understanding that you are not wrong. That you are not…that you are normal, and you are worthy, you will have the strength you need to continue forward.’

‘Thank you, priestess,’ the young man bows as they stand. He looks around before sheepishly scratching his head and saying, ‘I think I have kept you away for too long.’

‘It’s okay,’ Yoongi smiles. ‘I am not alone.’

The young man looks around wildly before he says, ‘Oh yes, the Goddess is watching over us.’

Yoongi chuckles.

‘He’s waiting for me,’ Yoongi tells him.

‘Oh,’ the young man smiles at that. ‘Well then, I hope you will continue together like this.’

‘Thank you,’ Yoongi replies sincerely.

Yoongi walks him down and to the doors of the empty pantheon. She waves goodbye, watching the young man, his stride lighter, surer.

Shedding his glamour, Yoongi feels the light of the moon full and bright high above him, pouring through him, from within himself.

Yoongi doesn’t need to think hard about it, doesn’t need to call for it, doesn’t need to place it in his mind because he’s there, walking down the knoll when he can finally see, he can finally remember all of it.

This was their Safety.

‘Jiminie!’

‘Hyung!’

Yoongi is young. He’s a little scruffy, and Jimin is there. It’s clearly Jimin because no one else smiles like that.

Yoongi is peeling him an tangerine, they’re hiding behind a stone wall. Yoongi has a large sweltering bruise that’s evident under his patched up sleeve. Jimin has cracks on his feet, embedded with clay and mud from working the fields that bore little to no crop. Both of their hands are too rough to belong to children. When Yoongi winces as the juice of the tangerine seeps into his open cuts on his fingers Jimin looks at with worry in his eyes. They’re young- but the weight of the world is heavy on their shoulders, a world that hasn’t allowed them to be children.

They grow up side by side. They’re not doing all too well, Yoongi notes. Neither of them seem to be in very good financial state. Yoongi can taste a bitterness in the air, something related to famine, brewing war, hunger, poverty, grief. But with them, the warmth of the sun on their backs as they run out of the village to play by the stream between the grassy knolls far enough from the village to make them feel like they were alone in their own world.

And in that world, they could just be like this, hiding and absorbing all of what this brief reprieve could offer them.

Spring, summer, autumn, winter.

Year after year, growing side by side. For a while Yoongi is taller than Jimin- when they were younger, Jimin would butt his head against Yoongi’s chin. But now, in their late teenager years, Jimin’s forehead touches his own, and behind the stone wall, their lips carefully meet, nervous, frightened, and yet-

There was no doubt.

Jimin is the most beautiful thing Yoongi has held in his hands, his warmth and love gracing him, a force of pure light illuminating his path no matter where the world forced him to go.

Tears run down his face, the power of his memories- their memory flooding him, encompassing him.

Even out here, barely 20 years old, in a smoky expanse of muddy fields, bodies burying themselves into anonymity, the darkness is lifted with the memory of Jimin’s words whispered softly in the dark, their foreheads pressed together.

He remembers softly whispering, nervously, apologetically, but with all of his heart- ‘You are everything-‘

He remembers as he falls into the mud, the sky grey and dull, nothing like what expanded above him in the blissful ignorance of his childhood. And all he can think of is Jimin, all he can think of is the promise he made- of the warmth of his hand in his, of his fingers nervously but surely brushing back his hair.

His own fingers, pale and cold, strangely stark in the combination of mud, blood, soot, and carnage still remembers the weight of Jimin’s hand in his.

The weight of his love, of their love lifts him up, and this warmth is what eventually wraps him as he bleeds out into the muddy water, eyes unseeing but everything in him quietly takes him to the narrow stream behind the barren farmlands, between the grassy knolls, sneaking tangerines out of the tree, back sore from the lashing he tolerates but he wants to see his Jimin smile.

He does. He always did.

And then, Sunmi is there, her expression heartbroken as she lifts him from the mud.

‘Hey, I got you now,’ she tells him.

But he can’t quite go could he?

‘I can’t,’ he tells her, ‘Not yet.’

‘He’ll find you,’ she smiles, ‘Don’t worry.’

And Yoongi knows Jimin. He knows he will keep his promise.

He always did.

He promised to love him. And he did.

He promised to always hold his hand. And he did.

He promised he would find him. And-

Next to the tangerine tree, the God of Promises turns around, as though he had been waiting for him.

‘Sunshine?’

Jimin’s smile is everything-

Oh he remembers it all. He remembers this place, he remembers Jimin at every age, in every season. He remembers their small hands, clasped tight, remembers how Jimin, one tooth missing from his front teeth, smiles brightly at him.

‘Hyung!’ he was so happy.

‘Jiminie!’ they were so happy.

Their tiny pinky-fingers extend out and they twist them together.

His feet have carried him forward until he’s standing right next to the tangerine tree. Suddenly, he feels shy, suddenly awkward, like he was when he was a teenager and he couldn’t understand his feelings fully but Jimin did- and Jimin told him he felt the same, his voice shaking and raw with vulnerability, fear, tenderness, and so much love.

‘I promised you, didn’t I?’ Jimin holds his pinkie finger out.

Oh it made sense.

It made so much sense now.

Yoongi takes Jimin’s hands in between his own, kissing the pinkie finger before linking his own with it.

‘Thank you,’ Yoongi manages to get out, ‘For…for this. For all of this.’

‘Only took a little while,’ Jimin teases, leaning in just a little, their hands coming to meet next to their entwined pinkies between their chests.

Yoongi leans in until his forehead rests on Jimin’s.

‘You’re everything,’ Yoongi says quietly, ‘You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to feel.’

He can literally hear Jimin smile.

‘I’m sorry,’ he manages to get out.

‘For what?’

‘For having to leave,’ Yoongi is just barely audible, but Jimin can hear him clearly, ‘For not coming back. For not remembering.’

‘There was nothing you could do. There was nothing we could do,’ Jimin reminds him.

‘I wish I had been braver-‘

‘You know we couldn’t,’ Jimin reminds him quietly. He gently lets go of one hand to wrap an arm around him. Yoongi allows himself to fall into a warmth he never knew he was missing.

‘But we’re here. I told you I’d find you.’ Jimin hums quietly. ‘I promised.’

Yoongi smiles, his heart soaring as everything returns to him, all the missing pieces in him slotting in perfectly, warmly, filled with light.

He wraps his arms around his sun, his light, his Jimin.

Yoongi could stay like this forever. But he doesn’t, because Jimin pushes them and they fall in a heap on the grass. Jimin is wheezing as Yoongi grumbles.

‘You know, that hurt in the past, and it still hurts now,’ Yoongi complains, still not releasing Jimin from his arms.

‘I always made sure there would be no rocks,’ Jimin grins down at him.

And Yoongi finds himself hypnotized. Again. He couldn’t not feel like this, looking at Jimin, having him close like this, just…just having this with him. Again, and so perfectly.

Jimin’s smile turns a little shy, as though embarrassed because Yoongi knows he looks incredibly sappy right now. He could tell Jimin how beautiful he was, how his whole body missed him, how much he loved the weight of his body against his, how he loved his dumb jokes, his funny voices, his unrelenting ambition in winning every single trivial game, his funny tantrums every time he lost.

But he doesn’t need to.

‘I think it’s kinda funny,’ he says instead.

‘What is?’ Jimin props himself up a little, leaning over Yoongi. His hand is warm against his cheek and Yoongi is complete.

‘That you know, you’re the God of Promises,’ Yoongi reaches up to brush away Jimin’s hair, feeling the curve of his ear as he does so. ‘I mean, that part isn’t too funny, maybe a bit too on the nose.’

Jimin giggles, and Yoongi can feel it against himself.

‘And here I am,’ Yoongi snorts, ‘God of Sex and all. It’s a little funny.’

‘Nah,’ Jimin smiles at him, leaning in to bump their noses together.

His lips are warm and sweet against his.

‘I think you’ve totally aced this.’