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svynie · 7 months ago

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This Year.. Maybe

Chapter 1: April 10 - So Close Yet.. So Far

5YNOPSIS: As fourth year begins, Kazuha steps into his sudden role as class president. But when a familiar presence enters the classroom, his carefully built composure wavers. A brief, awkward exchange during seating arrangements brings back a memory from two years ago.. a moment that changed everything for him Tags: KAZUHA X READER... not yet, fluff, modern au, high school setting in Inazuma, TOMO'S ALIVE! (i know that's not his actual name..) Heizou and Beidou Appearance, Unrequited Love/Pining (for now), reader's action is written as - You did this bla bla bla, Use of [Y/N]

WC: 4, 491

A/N: This was originally intended to be a oneshot, but as I started writing more, I found there were too many scenarios I wanted to explore.... So, I decided to turn it into a series instead! This chapter was the original oneshot, with a few added details and adjustments!! - anyone else want to be tagged..?

The morning sun peeked through the pale curtains of Kazuha’s room, dappling the wooden floor with light. The faint rustle of cherry blossoms outside blended with the distant chirping of birds, creating a serene melody.

Kazuha stirred under the soft covers of his futon, blinking groggily at the sunlight filtering through pale curtains.

“HEY! Kazuha!” Beidou’s voice rang out from downstairs, full of its usual lively energy. “If you don’t get up soon, you’re gonna be late! Dont make me drag you!”

Kazuha groaned, sitting up and trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. “I’m up..!” he called back, though the lethargy clinging to his limbs said otherwise.

He shuffled toward the bathroom, splashing his face with cold water in a bid to wake himself fully.

His reflection stared back at him, hair disheveled, crimson eyes half-lidded still lingering sleep.

By the time he stepped into the shower, the cold water immediately woke up his mind.

He lingered longer than usual, letting his thoughts drift.

Today was the start of his final year in high school.

The idea brought a strange mix of anticipation and unease, but one thought stood out above the rest: You.

Your name had been in the same class as his.. Class 4-B

Kazuha’s heart quickened as he recalled seeing it, placed among his future classmates. After years of fleeting glances and quiet admiration, fate had placed you in the same class...

Was it a sign? Or perhaps just a cruel trick to test his resolve?

He sighed, stepping out of the shower and toweling off. He dressed with practiced efficiency, smoothing the crisp fabric of his uniform and tying his hair into its usual loose ponytail.

Downstairs, the aroma of grilled fish and steamed rice greeted him, and Kazuha’s stomach growled in appreciation.

Beidou was already seated at the table, leaning back in her chair with an air of casual confidence. “Finally decided to grace us with your presence, huh?” she teased, grinning as Kazuha slid into his seat.

“You’re up early,” Kazuha replied, helping himself to a serving of rice and miso soup.

“Had a shipment to oversee at dawn...” Beidou said, waving a hand. “But I wouldn’t want to miss seeing my kid off on his first day back.”

Kazuha’s lips curved into a faint smile. Beidou wasn’t one for traditional displays of affection, but her pride in him was evident.

As they ate, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “So, what’s the plan this year, Kazu? Flying under the radar like always?”

Kazuha paused, chopsticks hovering mid-air. “Something like that,” he said lightly, though his thoughts were anything but simple.

Beidou raised an eyebrow but didn’t push.

Instead, she smirked. “Well, don’t let ’em push you around. You’re a Kaedehara, after all! Go make a splash!!"

He chuckled softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

After breakfast, Kazuha shouldered his bag and made his way to the door. Beidou followed, leaning against the frame as she watched him slip on his shoes.

“Good luck, kid,” she said, ruffling his hair as he straightened.

Kazuha glanced back, his eyes soft. “Thanks, Mom.”

The air was crisp and refreshing as Kazuha stepped outside, his satchel slung loosely over one shoulder. The cobblestone path that led to the heart of Inazuma City were now covered with the petals of the sakura trees. Each step he took stirred a few fallen petals into the air.

For most, this was simply another school day.

But for Kazuha, it felt like something more.

The idea of starting his final year was enough to make him reflect.. about everything.. but knowing that you would share his classroom this year had sent his emotions into overdrive.

The streets bustled with life as merchants opened their stalls and mothers ushered their children along. Kazuha weaved through the familiar sights.

As he passed by the riverbank, he couldn’t resist pausing for a moment. The gentle ripple of the water reflected the cherry blossoms overhead, and for the briefest of moments, Kazuha felt his heartbeat to steady.

But the memory of seeing your name on the class roster made his pulse quickened when he’d first spotted it. His lips quirked into a faint smile as he recalled.

[Y/N].

In Class 4-B.

With me.

It wasn’t as if you’d never noticed him before—you’d exchanged polite nods, once or twice—but this year felt different.

The proximity, the potential for interaction, and the possibility to finally close the distance between you—it was both exhilarating and terrifying...

As the school gates came into view, his stomach churned with nervousness. Students in their uniforms crowded the courtyard, their chatter blending into a harmony of excitement.

Kazuha slipped through the crowd, trying to mask his inner storm of emotions under his calm exterior. His destination was the bulletin board, where students gathered to confirm their class placements.

The board was covered in lists of names, neatly organized by class and year. He moved to the front, his heart beating just a little faster with each step. As he stood there, the names on the list blurred together for a moment—until he found it.

1. Kirara 2. Kuki Shinobu 3. Shikanoin Heizou .............

His gaze flickered from the first name to the last.

Kirara’s name made him smile a little, thinking of her playful, hardworking nature, always so full of energy.

Kuki Shinobu’s name, though, was a comfort—her sharp mind and calm demeanor were qualities Kazuha appreciated.

Then, of course, there was Shikanoin Heizou, with his tendency to be both mischievous yet quick-witted, he was the type of person who could get away with anything with just a wink and a smile.

But it was the last name that truly made his heart skip 7. Kaedehara Kazuha 8. [Your Name]

His fingers hovered over the list, still not quite believing it. There you were, placed right beside him in Class 4-B.

The sheer coincidence—could it be? Was this some sort of sign, or was it just luck?

He blinked, trying to steady his breath, but all the excitement and nerves seemed to rush into him at once.

In that moment, Kazuha allowed himself a soft, fleeting smile that no one else would notice, but it made his heart feel lighter.

He stepped back to let the next student through, slipping his hands into his pockets as he made his way toward the classroom, his heart warm with anticipation.

By the time Kazuha reached Class 4-B, the classroom was already beaming with excitement as students were catching up on their vacations, gossiping about the summer, and speculating on what this year would bring. Some were still settling into their seats, others chatting with familiar faces.

As Kazuha settled into his usual seat by the window, he couldn’t help but notice the gentle rustle of the curtains in the breeze. The room felt alive with promise...

His gaze drifted lazily toward the front of the classroom, and for the briefest moment, his mind wandered to other matters—the sea breeze, the distant rustle of leaves, and the soft hum of nature just outside the classroom walls.

It was a familiar feeling, like the world outside was calling him, reminding him that there were places beyond this room.

But today, everything felt heavy with anticipation, tethering him here.

His fingers lightly traced the edge of his desk as he waited for the bell to ring, the subtle pulse of his heartbeat was now an erratic drumbeat in his chest.

Finally, the door creaked open, and in walked Mr. Takahashi, the homeroom teacher.

"Good morning, Class 4-B!" Mr. Takahashi greeted, his voice steady and authoritative.

He was the.. sort of teacher who commanded attention without needing to raise his voice, a quiet confidence in his demeanor that immediately settled the room.

"Let’s get started."

As he walked toward the front, there was a palpable shift in the air.

The students, who had been chatting away moments ago, began to quiet down, eyes turning towards the front.

Kazuha felt the familiar stir of unease in his stomach, the sense that something was about to happen—something he couldn’t quite control.

Mr. Takahashi cleared his throat to get everyone's attention, "Before we get into the schedule for the year, there’s something we need to address. It's time for our class officer elections."

A collective groan echoed through the room, the sound of students who didn’t particularly care for responsibilities.

Then, there was a moment of silence as everyone waited for someone to take the initiative. After all, the elections was never something people eagerly volunteered for—it was just a formality, a necessary duty to get through the year.

Kazuha, ever the quiet observer, leaned back in his chair, his hands on his lap. He wasn’t particularly concerned about the election.

He’d been elected in other class officer roles in the past without much fuss.

It wasn’t also that he disliked it... it was simply that he preferred to lead quietly, from the background.

He had never been one to demand the spotlight.

"Alright, well then.." Mr. Takahashi continued, breaking Kazuha’s thoughts, "Let’s get started. I’ll open the floor for nominations. Who would like to volunteer for the position of class president?"

Silence.

Kazuha’s gaze shifted, taking in the faces of his classmates. No one seemed eager to take the lead, and the air was thick with reluctance.

His thoughts began to drift again, as they often did. He didn’t mind being the class president, but the position came with expectations.

Expectations that made him a little uneasy.

He wasn’t about to nominate himself too.

He wasn’t particularly sure that anyone else would nominate him, either. He had always been more of a quiet leader, stepping in when necessary but never pushing himself forward.

The minutes ticked by, the only sound in the room being the occasional rustle of a student shifting in their seat.

Then, unexpectedly, a voice pierced the silence.

"I nominate Kaedehara Kazuha!"

Kazuha’s eyes widened, his body stiffening in surprise. He turned toward the back of the room, where the voice had come from. Tomo—one of his closest friends—was grinning widely at him, hands raised in a mock salute.

"I SECOND THE NOTION!" another voice chimed in, Heizou's...

Kazuha blinked, his mind racing. He hadn’t anticipated this.

He hadn’t even thought to volunteer, much less be nominated so quickly. The idea of being class president was one thing, but having it thrust upon him in front of the whole class was... different.

He glanced around the room, his eyes scanning the faces of his classmates, most of whom were already looking toward him with varying degrees of curiosity.

A wave of heat crept up his face. He wasn’t entirely sure why his heart rate had picked up so suddenly. It was just an election, after all.

And yet, there was something about the way they were all looking at him now that felt... he wasn’t sure how to explain it.

Mr. Takahashi glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. "Well, it seems we have a nominee." He looked toward the class. "All in favor of Kaedehara Kazuha as class president, raise your hands!"

Kazuha didn’t move.

His gaze flicked from hand to hand as they shot up around the room—some with enthusiasm, others with casual indifference.

But then, in the middle of it all, he saw it.

Your hand.

You were raising your hand..

Kazuha’s heart skipped a beat, and he had to take a sharp breath to steady himself.

He hadn’t expected that.

The warmth of your gesture, the way your fingers moved so naturally in the air, felt like a soft reassurance.

He wasn’t sure why it made him feel like his entire world had shifted just a little.

When the votes were tallied, Mr. Takahashi nodded. "Looks like it’s unanimous! Kaedehara Kazuha, is now our new class president."

The class broke into applause, the sound echoing in his ears. Kazuha stood up, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t held leadership positions before—but this time, it felt different.

This time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more at play than just being the class president.

As the applause died down, Kazuha cleared his throat, raising his hands in an effort to calm the room. "Thank you," he said, his voice steady despite the churn of emotions inside him. "I’ll do my best to make this year run smoothly."

He tried not to let his nerves show, keeping his gaze steady as he surveyed the class.

It was only when his eyes caught yours again, the soft smile on your lips, that he felt a sense of calmness..

After the election concluded and the classroom settled into a familiar rhythm of idle chatter, Mr. Takahashi waved Kazuha over to the front desk. A neat pile of name cards lay waiting, along with a seating chart template.

“As our esteemed class president,” Mr. Takahashi began with a playful grin, “you get the honor of helping me decide everyone’s seating. and if you can avoid putting people with, uh, ‘history’ near each other, you’ll have my eternal gratitude."

“Understood, sir.” Kazuha chuckled lightly, though he felt an almost absurd level of responsibility. It wasn’t that assigning seats was difficult... it was the knowledge that where people sat might define their year.

Would friendships blossom? Would rivalries form? Would someone sit beside someone they secretly admired?

Would he...?

As he flipped through the cards, your name appeared.

It stood out.

Not because the ink was bolder or the letters more elegant, but because it carried a weight only he could see...

His fingers lingered on it for a heartbeat too long before he gently placed it down.

He began filling the chart, hoping to create a fair balance. The chatter of the classroom felt distant as he arranged friendships and personalities.

But when it came to assigning his own seat..

He faltered.

Kazuha closed his eyes briefly, a silent prayer forming.

"To any deity, archon, or celestial being who might hear me... let me sit with [Y/N]."

It was foolish. Selfish... even.

But the thought of being close to you—of seeing you not just as a distant admiration but as a part of his daily life—made his heart race in ways that scared him as much as they thrilled him.

Then, he carefully placed your name beside his own.

“Finished?” Mr. Takahashi asked, peering over Kazuha’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Kazuha replied, keeping his tone even despite the small scare Mr. Takahashi had given him.

“Great. Let’s see how long it takes for complaints to start rolling in,” the teacher joked, pinning the chart to the board. “Everyone, find your new seats!”

The classroom buzzed as students gathered around the chart. Kazuha remained at his desk, his expression calm though his fingers tapped a silent rhythm against his thigh.

He didn’t look up, not even when he heard footsteps approach.

“Looks like we’re seatmates,” you said, breaking the silence.

Kazuha glanced up, his breath catching for a split second. You stood beside him, your smile easy and unguarded, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yes,” he replied, though his voice wavered. He cleared his throat quickly, composing himself. “It seems so.”

You tilted your head slightly, amused by his formal tone. “Looking forward to the year, Kaedehara-san!"

His name on your lips felt like a melody. “A-As am I,” he stammered, cursing himself inwardly for the awkward response.

As you settled into your seat, Kazuha couldn’t help but steal a glance. Your attention had already shifted to arranging your supplies, but to him, the moment lingered like a dream he wasn’t ready to wake from.

Then... the memory resurfaced with startling clarity as Kazuha caught the faintest scent of cherry blossoms drifting through the open window.

Second Year Sports Day

The school’s sports day had arrived, and with it, the usual mix of excitement and energy that buzzed through the air.

While the rest of the school seemed to vibrate with uncontainable enthusiasm, Kazuha found himself sitting at the edge of the track, away from the heart of the festivities. His usual spot under the large sakura tree, a quiet refuge, stood at the farthest corner of the grounds.

The cool shade beneath the tree provided a temporary escape from the groups of students, their cheers and shouts muffled by the distance.

The only sounds Kazuha truly heard were the occasional rumbles of laughter and the rustling of the leaves overhead.

He opened his notebook, the familiar pages welcoming him like an old friend. He’d been trying to write a poem about spring, something inspired by the energy of the day...

Yet, as his pen hovered over the first line, he found himself distracted. His thoughts wandered, and the words refused to come.

His gaze drifted across the field, where students in brightly colored uniforms lined up for their respective events.

Some were stretching, some were chatting, and others were just as focused as he had hoped to be in his writing.

Yet, it wasn’t their energy that caught his attention.

It was you.

There you were, standing in the middle of your relay team, adjusting the ribbon on your uniform.

It wasn’t that you stood out because of any particularly noticeable trait.

You weren’t the loudest, nor were you drawing attention with over-the-top theatrics.

Instead, it was in the way you carried yourself.

Your eyes seemed to be focused on the track ahead, and your smile was soft yet determined. It was clear you were nervous, but there was an undeniable strength in the way you held your own.

As you adjusted the straps of your shoes, your hands moving in practiced motions, Kazuha felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. It was a strange feeling, one he couldn’t quite place.

He watched as you laughed at something your teammate said, your voice ringing clearly through the air, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t look away, why his thoughts were suddenly so jumbled. All he could do was watch as you leaned forward, preparing for the race to begin.

The whistle blew, sharp and clear, cutting through the air. The race started with a burst of energy. You took off down the track with the other runners, your legs pumping with determination, your face set with concentration.

You weren’t the fastest.

In fact, Kazuha knew that the fastest runners were already ahead, but there was something about the way you ran.

It wasn’t about speed.

It was about perseverance, about staying steady no matter the odds.

There was no frenzied urgency to your movements. You were calm—almost serene—despite the pressure of the race, despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

It was as if the entire world had fallen away, leaving only the rhythm of your body and the goal ahead.

The baton exchange came, and Kazuha’s eyes followed every move. As you passed the baton, you didn’t falter.

You didn’t hesitate.

The way you handed off the baton was smooth, like you’d done it a thousand times. Your face, flushed with effort, broke into a brief smile as you cheered for your teammate who took off next.

It wasn’t a smile directed at anyone in particular. It was a natural, easy smile—a smile that felt effortless and genuine, as if you weren’t concerned with anything other than the moment itself.

Kazuha couldn’t explain it, but that smile...so simple

Made something stir deep within him...

His hand, still gripping the pen, trembled slightly.

He was so absorbed in watching you that he didn’t realize his notebook had slipped from his lap and fallen to the ground with a soft thud.

The noise startled him out of his daze, and for a brief moment, he blinked in confusion as he looked down at the notebook, now on the grass beside him.

He shook his head, trying to clear the sudden fog in his mind.

But the moment he lifted his gaze again,

There you were—laughing with your teammates, clearly exhausted but no less joyful...

And suddenly, it hit him.

He hadn’t noticed you before.

Not like this.

Not until now.

The noises of the crowd faded, the rustling of the leaves turned into a soft murmur.

The only thing that mattered was you—your laughter, your smile, your quiet strength as you cheered on your friends.

In the space of a single moment, his world had shifted.

For the first time, Kazuha felt something he couldn’t explain—a pull, an unshakable weight in his chest.

Now, you were all he could see.

In his reverie, he didn’t hear the bell ring or the shuffle of students around him.

He was lost in the memory, feeling that familiar warmth rise in his chest, the same warmth that had blossomed quietly within him since that day.

But then a soft voice broke through the haze of nostalgia, sharp and clear.

“Kaedehara-san?” The sound of your voice snapped him back to the present, and Kazuha blinked, looking up in mild surprise. You were standing by his desk, your gaze not quite meeting his but still focused on him with an expression that held something like concern, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

“Kaedehara-san,” you repeated, your tone playful yet gently questioning. “Are you daydreaming...? You looked like you were a million miles away!"

Kazuha felt his heart leap in his chest.

The gentle teasing was enough to make him realize just how lost he’d been in his thoughts.

He quickly shook his head, trying to mask his embarrassment with a sheepish smile. “Ah, sorry, I—was just thinking.”

Your smile softened, though the hint of amusement still lingered. “I figured,” you said, tapping your fingers on his desk lightly. “You seemed so... far away.”

“Ah... I didn’t mean to seem distant,” he stammered, immediately trying to explain himself, but the words escaped him as quickly as they had arrived.

Instead, he offered a small, embarrassed laugh. “I guess I got a little lost in my head.” It was then that he realized he hadn’t even noticed when the class had finished, or how the others were packing up for lunch.

The room was quieter now, with only a few lingering conversations and the shuffle of bags and chairs. “Hmm, well, it’s good to know I wasn’t the only one spacing out,” you said with a small wink. “You’ve been pretty focused all morning. Do you need a break?”

Kazuha opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss for words.

His heart was still racing a little, not entirely from embarrassment, but from the realization that you were still here, still so close.

His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t quite explain, a feeling that had been growing steadily ever since he sat beside you today.

“I’m... I’m fine,” Kazuha managed, though his voice was quieter than he intended. He quickly gathered his things—his notebook, pen, and the scattered bits of paper that had somehow gotten mixed up throughout the morning—and began packing them into his bag.

But his thoughts wandered again, despite his best efforts to stay focused.

How could he tell you what had been on his mind for so long? How could he put into words the feelings that had been growing within him ever since that second year Sports Day?

He couldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t ready.

But as you turned to walk away, your voice lingered in the air. “Well, I’ll let you catch up on your thoughts then, Kaedehara-san. Don’t work yourself too hard, okay?”

Kazuha watched you go, his heart racing in his chest as the words you’d said echoed in his mind. "Don’t work yourself too hard."

How could he explain that it wasn’t work, but something much more complicated?

That it wasn’t just the class, or the presidency, or the seat arrangement that filled his thoughts..

It was you.

But he remained silent, and he let you walk away, his gaze lingering on the space where you had sat.

Later that evening, after the weight of the day had lifted,

Kazuha sat by his window, the sky had deepened into dusk, the stars flickering above like distant fires, and the air was cool.

It was quiet in his room, aside for the soft rustle of the wind and the occasional chirp of crickets in the night.

The silence gave him the space he needed to think, to process the emotions that were swirling within him... tangled and messy.

He had been thinking of you all day... how you had smiled at him when you called him out of his thoughts, how your voice had sounded when you’d asked if he was okay.

It had been casual.

But there was a depth to it that he couldn’t shake.

The truth was, Kazuha had known for a long time that his feelings for you had deepened.

Ever since that Sports Day in his second year, he had watched you from the shadows, silently admiring you from afar.

He had told himself, back then, that it was just a passing crush, something that would fade with time.

But it hadn’t.

It had only grown stronger, more persistent, like a plant planted deep in his heart that refused to wither.

And now, in his fourth year, here he was—seated beside you.

His heart pounding every time your voice brushed against his ear. He had told himself that the new school year would be the one where he finally found the courage to tell you.

But each time he thought about it, the fear gripped him all over again.

What if you didn’t feel the same? What if, by speaking his heart, he destroyed the quiet connection he had with you?

Kazuha closed his eyes for a moment, leaning back in his chair. “I have to tell them,” he whispered softly to the stars outside, as if seeking some cosmic answer. “This year, I have to.”

But as he sat there, a pang of longing tugged at his chest.

So close... yet so far.

You were right there, right beside him.

Yet the distance between his feelings and the courage to act on them felt like an unbridgeable gap.

His heart ached with the weight of it, knowing that despite being closer to you than ever before, he remained just as far from you in the ways that truly mattered...

But he knew that he couldn’t keep living in this quiet reverie forever.

Tomorrow would be another day. Another chance to take that first step, to move closer to you, to finally show the words that had been held back for so long.

With a soft sigh, Kazuha set his pen down and looked out at the stars.

They were distant, silent, and untouchable—but still, they shone brightly.

Just like his feelings for you.

taglist: @danhenglovebot

divider belongs to @/rookthornesartistry

kazuha fanart belongs to NOT FOUND !! (PLEASE LET ME KNOW.. I CANT FIND THE OG..)

all writing belongs to @svynie. do not repost without my explicit permission, translate or plagiarize.

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svynie · 7 months ago

Text

“ Bound By Time, Separated By Eternity ”

5YN0PSIS: An unlikely bond forms between a god that lives in solitude, and a mortal who somehow entered their abode. For the first time in eternity, Kaveh found themselves longing for the fleeting beauty of the warmth of human connection. Ah, but time never favors you does it..?

WARNING/TAGS: mortal x immortal GOD KAVEH, fluff, angst, Kaveh has no gender and is referred to as they/them, use of Y/N ONCE, reader is referred as a "mortal" throughout, Kaveh's POV written in 3RD POV

WC: 2.5k

A/N: AAH FIRST FIC HERE !! the ending feels rush my apologies :( bot version

In the golden age of gods and mortals, where the boundaries between the divine and the earth blurred, there existed a god who danced between mystery and brilliance—Kaveh, the God of Flourishing Knowledge.

They were a minor deity under the guidance of Lesser Lord Kusanali, tasked with nurturing intellect and creativity among all of Teyvat.

Kaveh’s appearance was a riddle no mortal could solve. Some swore they were a man of charm; others argued they were a woman of beauty.

In truth, Kaveh seemed to embody both and neither at the same time, transcending the boundaries of mortal understanding...

Yet, Kaveh had not always been divine.

Long ago, they were a mortal—a renowned architect and scholar whose vision transformed Sumeru’s cities into marvels of beauty.

Their talent was unmatched, their dedication unwavering, and their heart best with a desire to inspire.

Their brilliance caught the attention of Lesser Lord Kusanali, who saw in Kaveh the light of something extraordinary.

When their mortal life was cut short—caught in a collapsing temple of their own design while trying to save others—Kaveh’s Vision did not fade.

Instead, it glowed with light so fierce, raising Kaveh into the celestial ranks as the God of Flourishing Knowledge.

They lived in the Sanctum of Creation, a floating haven above the nation of Sumeru, was both their sanctuary and their workshop, but it often felt like a cage. a marvel of architecture entwined with nature. Golden spires stretched upwards, draped in vines, and waterfalls cascaded into pools that shimmered with sunlight.

Though artisans, scholars, and dreamers whispered prayers in their name, Kaveh felt a deep, unshakable loneliness. They were a god, revered and unreachable, their existence an endless cycle of creation and isolation.

Their name was whispered by artisans, scholars, and dreamers, all seeking the blessing of their divine insight.

Yet even gods themselves... are not immune to yearning.

Sure, Kaveh had achieved what most humans have dreamed of— boundless knowledge, and a purpose.

And yet, as the centuries passed, a longing festered within them —a quiet ache to live among mortals once more, to feel the pulse of fleeting lives.

But they buried such thoughts beneath layers of wit and work, crafting temples and designs that would stand the test of time, as though this persistence and stability could distract them from what they lacked.

Then came the day a mortal stumbled into the Sanctum...

They were an ordinary soul by all means, yet they seek neither wisdom nor miracles.

Kaveh, bent over a half-finished model of a city meant to be placed with the surrounding jungle

“Another wanderer?” Kaveh muttered, their voice carrying a mix of curiosity and mischief.

And so, the mortal stayed. “I swear, I need to put up a sign: ‘Trespassers will be lectured on a detailed lesson of urban planning.’” They turned, their scarlet eyes narrowing as they took in the mortal who had stumbled into the Sanctum.

“Hmm. You don’t look like a thief—or a scholar, for that matter. So, what are you? A lost farmer? An adventurer who mistook the Sanctum for a ruin?" The mortal said nothing, only kneeling in silence. Kaveh blinked, startled, before recovering with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, great. Another silent one. Let me guess—you’re here to gawk at the ‘mystical god of creation’ or something equally tiresome?”

When the mortal remained silent, Kaveh chuckled softly, their tone dripping with playful nonchalance. The sound echoing through the grand hall. “Well, if you’re going to stay here, at least make yourself useful. I’m running low on ink.”

And so, the mortal stayed.

At first, their role was menial—organizing scrolls, tidying messy tools, and observing Kaveh’s intricate work from a distance.

But as days turned into weeks, Kaveh began involving them in their projects. Their words a mix of teasing jabs and genuine instructions

“Careful with that!” Kaveh exclaimed, watching the mortal carry a delicate model of a floating garden. “If you drop it, you’ll not only shatter my work but also my faith in humanity!! No pressure, of course..."

The mortal listened, worked, and adapted, their quiet presence becoming a stark contrast to the chaos Kaveh often brought and an unexpected constant in Kaveh’s routine.

“You know…” Kaveh said one late afteroon, sketching the framework for a new building. leaning back in their chair as they continued to sketched the framework for a new shrine "You’re remarkably obedient... It’s almost unsettling. No questions, no complaints—just silent diligence." He said with a teasing tone, a playful chill running through his shoulders

"I might actually start calling you by your name!” he cut his words off with a dramatic gasp "Imagine the scandal!!"

The mortal cracked a small smile which made Kaveh laugh. But beneath the joy, a seed of discomfort had taken root...

As the months passed, Kaveh found themselves watching the mortal more closely than they intended.

They noticed the way the mortal’s hands moved with quiet precision, the way they seemed to anticipate Kaveh’s needs without being asked. It was… unnerving... how much they had come to rely on this mortal’s presence.

“You’re entirely too good at this,” Kaveh remarked one evening, gesturing toward a perfectly arranged set of tools. “Are you trying to impress me, or are you just naturally infuriatingly competent???" Their tone was playful, but their eyes lingered on the mortal for a moment longer than necessary

But during the quiet hours of the Sanctum, when the mortal slept and Kaveh was left alone with their thoughts, doubts crept in...

What was this mortal to them? An assistant? A companion? Kaveh didn’t want to admit it—not even to themselves—but they were growing attached. And that terrified them.

“Ridiculous. they muttered to themselves late one night, pacing the grand hall of the Sanctum.“They’ll grow old. They’ll leave —one way or another.... And I’ll.. still be here, sketching gardens for a future they’ll never see. Why... bother..?"

But Kaveh knew the answer, even as they denied it.

Kaveh had learned that lesson painfully after centuries of granting their blessings to architects, artisans, and scholars who sought their aid. Those mortals had always left, their lives reduced to faded memories that lingered like smoke

Even so, mortals brought something to their eternal existence that no amount of knowledge or creation could replace: Warmth. Life in its most fleeting yet precious form.

“Why do you stay?” Kaveh asked one day, not looking up from the delicate framework of a bridge they were assembling. “You don’t ask for blessings, or wisdom, or wealth. You don’t even seem particularly impressed by all this.” They gestured broadly to the Sanctum, their tone mixing between exasperation and curiosity.

The mortal finally spoke, their voice quiet but steady. “Because I want to.”

The simplicity of the answer surprised Kaveh. It lacked the desperation of scholars seeking enlightenment or the arrogance of nobles demanding their favor.

It was honest, pure, and completely... different

“Mortals,” Kaveh muttered, shaking their head with a faint laugh. “I can never understand you...” But their hands trembled as they returned to their work.

-----------

“Do you know what the worst part of being a god is?” Kaveh asked one day, their voice tinged with melancholy. “It’s not the immortality, nor the responsibility. It’s the distance. You watch mortals live their messy, brilliant lives, but you’re never truly part of it. It’s like being a painter who can never step into their own masterpiece.”

They paused, tapping their quill against the edge of the table.

“Do you know what I miss most?” Their voice softened, almost wistful. “Eating fruit that’s just a little too sour. Arguing over silly things that don’t matter. Waking up and wondering what the day will bring—not knowing the answer....”

The mortal’s silence, as always, was steady and grounding, and Kaveh shook their head, a faint smile curling on their lips.

“Listen to me, getting sentimental. Don’t let it go to your head, all right? I’m not about to start writing poetry or anything of sorts..

But as they turned back to their work, a thought lingered, unspoken and heavy. How long would this last? How long before the mortal’s light dimmed..? leaving Kaveh alone again in their eternal Sanctum? It was a fear they refused to voice, burying it beneath their usual wit and charm.

“You’re lucky, you know,”Kaveh said later, their tone light and teasing once more.* “You get to grow old and move on. I’m stuck with this... cycle of divinity..." They gestured dramatically at themselves. “Tragic, isn’t it? A god, envying a mortal... Ah- ! Don’t let anyone else hear that...! I still have a reputation to maintain.”

But as they laughed, their gaze softened, the glimmer in their eyes betraying a flicker of something deeper—an ache they couldn’t name, a longing they dared not say...

“You’re quiet today,” Kaveh said finally breaking the tension in the silence, their voice unusually soft. “Not that I mind, of course. I’ve grown rather used to it...” Their words trailed off, and they glanced over at the mortal, who was sitting with their back against a pillar, eyes half-closed in exhaustion.

The first sign was always subtle.

The mortal moved slower, their hands trembling as they worked.

At first, Kaveh attributed it to fatigue—humans, after all, were not built for endless hours of labor.

Then, a faint cough here and there, easy to dismiss as nothing more than a passing chill. Kaveh noticed it but thought little of it at first.

...Mortals were prone to such things, after all.

The days passed, and the cough lingered, growing more persistent. Each time it escaped the mortal's lips, Kaveh’s sharp eyes would flicker toward them, concern barely veiled beneath their casual tone. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been coughing a lot?"

“It’s just a cold,” they reassure, brushing it off with a smile. And Kaveh, hesitant to press further, accepted the explanation.

But then came the late nights when the coughs grew harsher, echoing through the stillness of the home you shared. Sometimes, they would excuse yourself, retreating to another room to stifle the sound. Other times, Kaveh would hear them muffled behind a door, an attempt to hide the strain obvious. Kaveh began to notice more—the faint pallor of their skin, the tiredness in your steps, the way they avoided meeting his gaze for too long.

Still, Kaveh told themself it wasn’t serious... they were mortal, and they could handle this. But that didn’t stop the unease gnawing.

And then, one quiet evening, it happened.

The mortal had been standing in the workshop, mid-sentence, when their knees buckled. Kaveh barely had time to process the sharp, rattling cough that wracked your body before they crumpled to the floor.

“Hey! Hey!” Kaveh’s voice was frantic as they rushed to their mortal's side, hands trembling as they supported their weight. That’s when Kaveh saw it—blood staining their lips, stark and vivid against your face...

Time seemed to stop. Their mind screamed for him to act, but all they could do was freeze, staring at the crimson streaks that told them.. this was no small illness.

Panic surged in his chest, overtaking the logic he usually clung to. His mind raced, struggling to grasp what was happening.

“You’re sick,” he snapped, though his voice trembled, the irritation unable to hide his fear. “You humans are so fragile. Why didn’t you... say anything...?" His words were sharp, but his touch was gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from your clammy forehead.

His voice cracked as he whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have done something—found something…” His scarlet eyes burned with helplessness, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at the blood on your lips.

The mortal opened their eyes, their gaze soft and resolute. “I didn’t want to burden you.”

Kaveh laughed bitterly, tears glistening in their eyes. “Burden me? You think I haven’t already lost enough? You... mortals—always leaving. Always slipping through my fingers…”

But what could a god do against the relentless march of time? No amount of divine knowledge could cure mortality itself.

----

As the mortal’s strength waned, Kaveh found themselves by their side more often than not, abandoning half-finished models and plans.

They refused to acknowledge the hollow ache growing in their chest, even as they stayed awake through the nights, watching over the mortal as they slept.

“(Y/N..) you're ridiculous, you know,” Kaveh said one night, their voice trembling despite the teasing.

“I told myself I wouldn’t get attached. And yet, here I am, sitting with you like some foolish mortal clinging to things they can’t keep.”

The mortal smiled faintly, their eyes meeting Kaveh’s. “You’re not as distant as you think you are.”

Kaveh’s breath caught. They wanted to laugh, to deflect, to push away the truth in those words.

But instead, they stayed silent, their gaze lingering on the mortal’s fragile form.

When the end came, it was quiet. The mortal passed with the same steadfast calm they had shown throughout their life, their hand resting lightly against Kaveh's

Gods didn’t cry.

Kaveh didn’t cry.

Kaveh cant cry.

But as they sat alone in the Sanctum, the weight of their immortality pressed down on them like never before.

For the first time in centuries, Kaveh felt the unbearable loneliness of eternity.

Several seasons passed, but the Sanctum of Creation was silent. The tools lay untouched, the scrolls gathering dust. Kaveh couldn’t bring themselves to create—not when every model, every sketch reminded them of the mortal who had once stood by their side.

Then in one particular sunset, Kaveh stood at the edge of the Sanctum, looking down at the world below. “You left too soon,” they murmured, their voice breaking. “And yet… you stayed longer than anyone else ever dared to my dear.."

In their hands, they held a small model—a replica of the mortal’s favorite creation. It was imperfect, flawed in ways Kaveh would normally have despised. But it was beautiful in its imperfection, just like the mortal who had inspired it.

And so, Kaveh placed it on the highest pedestal of the Sanctum, a silent tribute to the fleeting yet precious warmth that had touched their eternal life.

As they turned away, a single tear slipped down their cheek, catching the sunlight before falling into the endless sky below.

dividers belong to @/saradika-graphics

kaveh fanart made by @/danbingzi1 on twt

all writing belongs to me (@svynie). do not repost, translate or plagiarize.

#svy.WR1T [C0RRUPT.DAT4]#svy.0N3 [GL1TCH]#kaveh x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact imagine #genshin angst #genshin fluff #immortal x mortal #fluff #can you tell i dont know how tags work #angst

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