#celestial romance

The Grand Priest had seen the rise and fall of entire universes. He’d witnessed stars bloom and die, gods born and replaced, mortals achieve miracles. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could surprise him anymore. Or so he thought.

---

Until Whis brought you to Zeno’s Palace one ordinary morning.

You weren’t anyone special in terms of divine hierarchy. A mortal guest, Whis said. Someone “pleasant to converse with.” You had helped him with something on Earth, a small act of kindness that somehow left even an Angel momentarily speechless, and as thanks, he wanted to show you the higher realms.

Daishinkan had greeted you out of courtesy, floating gracefully down the grand stairway in his immaculate robes, staff glinting with celestial light.

But when you bowed and smiled up at him, warm, kind, utterly human, something happened.

For the first time in eons, the Grand Priest’s perfect composure cracked. A feeling bloomed in his chest, strange, bright, and impossibly loud.

He blinked.

"Fascinating." He said faintly.

From that day on, Whis started noticing... changes.

“Father,” he said one afternoon, watching Daishinkan rearrange the cosmic schedule for the third time that week. “You’ve requested I bring (Y/N) for another visit. Again.”

Daishinkan looked up, all serene grace. “Indeed.”

Whis tilted his head. “Didn’t they just leave yesterday?”

The Grand Priest adjusted his collar with an air of innocence. “I find their perspective on mortal life most... educational. It would be prudent for the Omni-Kings’ attendants to understand such matters better.”

Whis raised a brow. “Educational,” he repeated flatly. “And yet, when I arrived last time, you were teaching them how to make tea.”

Daishinkan coughed softly. “Ah. A... practical exercise.”

When you arrived that day, Daishinkan was already waiting. The vast divine halls usually echoed with silence, but now there was a faint hum... was that music?

“Oh!” you said, noticing him standing stiffly beside an ornate tea set. “You’re early.”

“I wished to ensure the water temperature was... optimal,” he replied gravely.

It was adorable, the way he tried to look dignified while glancing at you every three seconds. His usual calm voice carried a nervous undertone. You didn’t mention it.

You simply smiled and said, “You always take such care. Thank you.”

And that was it. That smile again.

Daishinkan’s halo flickered slightly. “You are... most welcome.”

Later, you wandered the gardens, marveling at celestial flowers that glowed like galaxies. The Grand Priest walked beside you, hands folded behind his back.

“You seem fond of these gardens,” he said.

“They’re beautiful,” you answered softly. “Peaceful, too. I could stay here forever.”

He stopped walking.

Forever.

The word echoed in his mind like a song he didn’t want to end. For an eternal being who’d never known attachment, the thought of someone staying was dizzying. Dangerous. Wonderful.

“Would you... truly wish to remain here?” he asked, voice unusually quiet.

You laughed lightly. “Well, it’s just a figure of speech. I can’t really live here, can I?”

He didn’t answer right away. He was calculating, imagining, wanting. A being of cosmic order, suddenly entertaining the idea of bending reality just a little, to keep a single mortal close.

Whis, observing from afar, sighed. “Oh, dear. He’s in deep.”

---

Over time, Daishinkan’s fascination only grew.

He began asking Whis the strangest questions.

“How do mortals... express affection?” “Is it normal to feel one’s composure deteriorate when they smile?” “Would you say excessive interest in their wellbeing is... unbecoming?”

Whis nearly dropped his staff. “Father, are you in love?”

Daishinkan blinked, as if the term were foreign. “Love?”

Whis folded his arms. “Yes. That thing mortals feel before doing incredibly irrational things.”

The Grand Priest thought for a long moment. “Ah,” he said finally. “How delightful.”

---

The next time you visited, Daishinkan was different. More relaxed, almost playful. He showed you constellations he personally designed, allowed you to peek into fragments of creation, even joked about how the Omni-Kings once tried to name a galaxy after their pet Squeaky.

You laughed until your stomach hurt.

And when you turned to look at him, he wasn’t the distant, untouchable being you’d first met. He was smiling. Softly.

“(Y/N),” he said suddenly. “Would you... perhaps, stay a little longer today?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Of course, if I’m not intruding.”

He shook his head. “On the contrary. Your presence seems to make eternity... less lonely.”

Whis, passing by, groaned audibly. “Goodness. Now he’s poetic. I’ve created a monster.”

You giggled. The Grand Priest’s cheeks tinted faintly pink.

Maybe gods could fall in love after all.

---

It became a routine. Whis would appear on Earth with that knowing smile. “(Y/N), Father requests your company again. Apparently, the fate of the multiverse depends on your tea-making expertise.”

You’d laugh, roll your eyes, and follow.

Next part

Masterpost

DBS Masterlist

No Light Without You Near

I have a piece in the celestial romance zine, Constellations in Flux! This piece was so much fun to work on, but I can only show you this much right now. In the meantime, preorders are live over on Kickstarter! Be sure to check it out and share it with your friends that you think might like it 💜

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Previous part

omg that's so beautiful :') I mean, fr. I thought of two options.

Time in Zeno’s Palace was meaningless. For gods, it always had been. But lately, Daishinkan found himself counting it. How many times you had visited. How many days you spent walking through the gardens. How long your laughter lingered in the halls after you left.

It was maddening. ... It was fragile.

Whis found him one evening, standing in silence before a mortal timepiece, a simple clock from Earth, resting on his desk (let's say he has a desk, okay? lol). “Fascinating, isn’t it?” Whis said lightly. “Mortals measure time. Getting desperate as it passes.”

Daishinkan’s gaze didn’t move from the clock’s slow, steady hands. “They are bound by time,” he murmured. “And yet… they seem to live more vividly within it than most gods do without.”

Whis tilted his head. “Father, are you beginning to regret that we do not age?”

A pause. “I am beginning to regret,” Daishinkan said softly, “that they do.”

The next time you visited, he was different again. Quiet, distant, though his eyes followed you with something unspoken. You noticed it when you looked up from the tea set.

“Is something wrong?” you asked gently. “You seem… sad.”

He blinked, startled. “Sad?” He tested the word like it was a foreign object on his tongue. “Yes,” you said. “Your eyes look like you’re somewhere else.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he stepped closer, enough that the soft glow of his aura brushed against your skin like sunlight.

“I was merely wondering,” he said finally, “why mortals must fade when they hold such light within them.”

You smiled faintly. “That’s what makes it precious, isn’t it? Knowing it won’t last forever makes us appreciate it more.”

Daishinkan’s fingers tightened slightly. “And yet… I find the thought of your light fading intolerable.”

He looked down at you, the serenity of his face cracking just slightly. “There are ways,” he whispered, “to ensure you never do.”

Option 1 - Acceptance

He learns to let you go. Whis becomes the voice of wisdom, reminding him that mortality is what makes your existence meaningful. In the end, Daishinkan stands by your resting place eons later, remembering your laughter. The garden blooms eternally in your memory. He never bends reality, but he keeps the feeling, a reminder that even gods can love and lose.

“For all eternity,” he murmured, “I will remember what it meant to be finite.”

Option 2 - Defiance

He cannot accept it. He remakes you, not mortal, not quite divine, something between. A being who belongs to eternity because he could not bear the alternative. But with immortality comes distance. You begin to forget what it felt like to be human, and Daishinkan realizes that in saving you from death, he has stolen what made you you.

“You wanted forever,” he says quietly. “And I gave it to you. But forever feels empty without the warmth of what we lost.”

Masterpost

DBS Masterlist

It’s  just  a   d r e a m