Kei

— artist block but still writing somehow.

[runlienie]

↷ ー m a s t e r › l i s t 　‘ 原

⇀〃By; ❝ nie ↷ !!　　　 神 ’

(requests are allowed/opened)

— SFW !!

(requests are open)

— NSFW !!

(no longer accepts requests for nsfw)

— CHARACTER AI / AI BOTS (Alhaitham)

— CHARACTER AI / AI BOTS (Kaveh)

— CHARACTER AI / AI BOTS (Kavetham)

— CHARACTER AI / AI BOTS (Kaveh)

[kozusworld]

frat!gojo x shy fem! reader

For all his life, Gojo Satoru has only ever gone for the popular girls. The loud ones. The cheerleaders. That’s just how it’s always been.

This perfect mirror of life shattered the moment he saw you.

It was the first semester of Satoru’s second year at university. He’s settled in nicely, he has a group of friends, a frat, and a circle of women that constantly swoon his every move. What more could he ask for?

Unfortunately, as flashy as Satoru’s life is, his grades pale in comparison. He may be the most popular man on university campus but he currently has to retake Communications 101. That’s where he meets you.

You were quiet, almost invisible in the lecture hall. Satoru had no reason to pay any special attention to you.

Satoru is barely listening to the professor drone on about whatever the subject was about when suddenly she begins to call names. Luckily, Satoru’s name isn’t on his professor’s mind. He’s ready to zone out and scroll on his phone when his ear picks up a soft, shy voice.

Satoru looks up from his lap and he sees you, standing from your seat as you nervously explained the importance of the different modes of communication in society to the rest of the class. Now usually, Satoru would roll his eyes and turn the other way. He wasn’t interested in shy girls. Never was and never will. But there was something about you that had Satoru’s eyes locked onto you for the rest of the lecture.

The lecture ends and Satoru is quick to try and follow you as the students spill out of the lecture hall. Despite the mass of people his eyes never leave your frame and Satoru is truly so close to reaching you but you manage to slip away into the crowd of people and Satoru loses sight of you.

Satoru spends the rest of the week trying to find you on campus. It’s hard. He can’t find you anywhere and it has Satoru thinking that maybe the whole thing was a dream but he was so sure that you were real.

He finds you the next week in the same class. Satoru’s determined to talk to you this time so he takes the empty seat next to you. Usually girls would fluster and shy away from just this but you didn’t seem to care at all and something about that had Satoru’s heart thumping in his chest.

“Do you have an extra pen?” Satoru asked. He didn’t need it. He was just hoping to get your attention somehow.

You turn your head and raised your eyes meeting Satoru’s gaze.

You’re so much prettier up close. Satoru feels the air leave his lungs.

“Oh. Yeah, sure. Here you go.” You hand Satoru a pen from your pencil case. He reaches out to grab it, his fingers grazing yours slightly. There must be something terribly wrong Satoru’s heart if this small interaction had his heart racing a mile a minute.

You don’t pay attention to Satoru for the rest of the class after that interaction and for the rest of the class Satoru desperately tries to get your attention back on him. He raises his hand, recites, makes jokes. It grabs the attention of everyone else except for you but their attention isn’t enough. Satoru wants yours specifically. He’s hungry for it.

The lecture ends. Satoru taps your shoulder and holds out your pen.

“Y’doing anything after this?” Satoru asked, flashing his usual charming smile.

You pluck the pen from Satoru’s fingers and place it back in your pencil case.

“No.” You replied, voice quiet still. Satoru wonders to himself if you’ve ever been loud in your life.

Satoru decides it’s time to go in for the kill. It’s now or never. Really, how hard could it be? “You wanna grab some matcha?”

“No thank you.” The response is immediate and Satoru’s smile drops instantly. Unironically he’s never been denied by a woman before and he doesn’t know how to react. Does he get on his knees and grovel or does he pretend like he didn’t ask at all?

“Uhm. Are you sure? I’ll pay.” Satoru attempts once more. He reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out his wallet. It’s thick but you barely glance at it.

“No. I’m alright.” You offer Satoru a small, polite smile before you grab the straps of your bag and leave the lecture hall. Satoru is stunned. He can only watch your figure disappear out of the room as he rethinks every moment of his life.

For the first time in Gojo Satoru’s life he wants to chase after something. And it’s exciting.

[kxsagi]

“𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐇 𝐃𝐈𝐇 𝐃𝐈𝐇”

a/n: quick drabble bc i couldn’t help myself (will voluntarily use my free time to just watch edits of jjk men on tik tok and then i give up on real men)

but i'm a girl's girl so dw, i linked some of my favorite edits of them on their name!!!

synopsis: them catching you writing a freaky top comment in an edit of themselves on tik tok… 

ft. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro, higuruma hiromi, choso kamo

gojo satoru

he’s literally just chilling, bored out of his mind, scrolling through tik tok because someone tagged him in an edit and he’s like obviously i need to see how good i look today. 

opens it… and yeah. the edit eats. the transitions? nasty. the twixtor? criminal. he’s grinning at his own screen like yeah i am him. 

then he checks the comments. 

biggest mistake of his life…? 

top comment: “till we repopulate shibuya.” 

he pauses. rereads it. tilts his head. squints like maybe he hallucinated it. 

then he clicks the profile. 

it’s your alt account. 

same profile picture. same stupid bio you forgot to change. same energy of you thought you were slick. 

silence for like five seconds before he just– 

laughs. LOUD. 

like head thrown back, hand on his stomach, tears in his eyes type laugh. 

because??? that’s insane. that’s actually INSANE. and also… kinda flattering?? 

now he’s spiraling but in a fun way. 

“repopulate shibuya is crazy… you got plans or are we improvising?” 

doesn’t confront you immediately btw. no no. he’s a menace. 

later that day, he just starts staring at you randomly, grinning like he knows something you don’t. 

you’re like “what?” 

and he just goes “nothing. just thinking about urban development projects.” 

YOU FREEZE. 

because oh my gosh he KNOWS. 

and he LOVES that he knows. 

he absolutely brings it up in the most unserious way possible like “so… should i clear my schedule or…?” 

flattered, amused, and now 1000x more insufferable. 

geto suguru

someone sends him the edit and he already regrets opening tik tok. 

watches it anyway. it’s well-made, he’ll admit that. a little dramatic, but whatever. 

then he checks the comments out of curiosity. 

the top comment: “come on bro, i just finished and now this?” 

… 

he actually recoils. 

like physically leans back from his phone. 

“what the fuck…” 

he clicks the profile out of pure disbelief. 

and then he recognizes it. 

your alt. 

your bio with your name betrays you IMMEDIATELY. 

he just sits there in silence, blinking slowly like he just witnessed something deeply unsettling. 

not even mad. just… disappointed. confused. concerned. 

when he sees you later, he’s staring at you like he’s trying to reevaluate your entire existence. 

you’re talking and he’s not listening at all. 

finally he just goes “… you have no shame.” 

you choke. actually choke. 

he doesn’t even raise his voice. that’s the worst part. 

“publicly announcing that is… unnecessary.” 

lowkey disgusted, but also??? slightly intrigued in the worst way. 

he will never let you forget it. 

brings it up randomly like “maybe keep your… comments to yourself next time.” 

you will never know peace again. 

toji fushiguro

man is not even supposed to be on tik tok let’s be so fr, but somehow he ends up there. 

sees an edit of himself and is like “who’s making compiled clips of me with transitions like this?” 

watches it anyway. unimpressed, but also kinda like “yeah, makes sense. i’m hot.” 

checks comments out of boredom. 

top comment: “i can’t blame ovulation anymore. i think this is the real me.” 

he snorts. actually laughs a little under his breath. 

clicks the account. 

oh. it’s you. 

honestly? not surprised. 

if anything, he’s like yeah that tracks. 

no shock, no embarrassment on his end. 

just pure “of course you’re like this.” 

later when he sees you, he doesn’t even bring it up immediately. 

just pulls you closer, looks down at you with that lazy smirk. 

“so that’s the ‘real you’, huh?” 

YOU STOP FUNCTIONING. 

he finds it funny more than anything. 

not judging you at all. if anything, he’s entertained. 

might even encourage it in the most toxic way possible like “should comment something worse next time. maybe like ‘megumi, he’s my daddy, too.’” 

absolutely no shame. zero. none. 

higuruma hiromi

he’s only on tik tok because someone told him there were “legal edits” of him (he regrets believing that immediately). 

watches one. it’s… surprisingly well-made. 

then he scrolls down to the comments. 

top comment: “i KNOW dada.” 

he pauses. 

“… what does that even mean?” 

he clicks the profile to understand the context. 

and then he realizes it’s you. 

immediate confusion turns into quiet concern. 

because what. 

what are you doing. 

he has seen criminals confess to worse things in court, but somehow this feels more personal. 

when he sees you, he’s very calm about it. 

“i came across something today.” 

you already feel your soul leaving your body. 

“would you like to explain what you meant by that comment?” 

it feels like you’re on trial. like he’s about to object to your existence. 

you try to play it off, but he’s just staring at you, waiting. 

“… you’re aware that was public, correct? and there’s this thing called digital footprint that exists?” 

not mad. just deeply confused and slightly concerned about your decision making skills. 

lowkey rethinking everything, too. 

choso kamo

he’s not even supposed to understand tik tok, but someone (yuji) shows him an edit and he’s like oh… that’s me. 

watches it very seriously. 

then reads the comments because he wants to understand human reactions. 

top comment: “i’m SPEEDING (on the way to that destination dih).” 

he blinks. 

reads it again. 

“… speeding? … dih?” 

clicks the profile because he’s trying to understand. 

realizes it’s you. 

now he’s even MORE confused. 

is this… a threat? are you in danger? why are you speeding?? 

immediately concerned. 

when he sees you, he’s like “you said you were speeding. are you safe?” 

YOU JUST STARE AT HIM. 

because oh my gosh he took it literally. 

“what destination were you referring to? dih? and if so, what does that mean??”  

he’s so serious about it, too. 

you have to explain the entire concept of being down bad on the internet. 

he listens carefully, nodding slowly. 

“… so you were expressing… desire?” 

you want to evaporate. 

he’s not judging you at all btw. just trying to understand. 

but now he’s aware. 

and occasionally he’ll just look at you and go “are you speeding right now?” 

you will never recover from this. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[reignpage]

Synopsis: in which popular girl!reader is done with shitty players and wants to try the newest delicacy: virgin nerds. It’s game on to seduce the physics student, who seems more than ready to abandon his life of celibacy.

But their arrangement only works if they’re both on the same page. What happens when one expects a little more than sex?

Is it game over?

Warnings: eventual smut, plot with porn, fake dating trope, college au, no curses au, mean girl!reader, fem dom!reader, nerd!jo, subby!gojo, virgin!gojo, masochist!gojo, some angst but with a happy ending, very early 2000s romcoms, reader grows a lot (hate towards her will not be tolerated), reader gets humbled quite often here lol, chapter specific warnings will be listed on the chapter, some allusions to toxic/unhealthy relationships and coping, not proofread Word Count: 41k Gojo art by @/Leimiruu on X

Chapter ONE - Game start Chapter TWO - Different levels Chapter THREE - Boss fight Chapter FOUR - Perfect victory

Disclaimers:

♤ COMPLETED

♤ Available on AO3.

♤ This is a mix of fluff, smut and angst, so minors/ageless blogs do not interact.

♤ Any comments hating on the reader in this story will be deleted and the user will be blocked. The story plays on the mean girl trope so you will see mean girl behaviour. Just know this is all intentional. If you are sensitive to a flawed female character, do not read. I know what some of you are like. I have played these games before.

♤ This is a college au separate from my EdenU au. Different Gojo and university setting altogether. Any semblance is coincidental.

♤ Every part of this is of my own work. No AI or external inspiration was used. Please do not repost this on Tumblr or on any other platform without credits. I do not give permission for this to be translated. And please do not feed my work into AI.

Do not copy, remake, repost, or translate any of my works © 2026 ReignPage on Tumblr, all rights reserved

[runlienie]

I can't seriously imagine myself being in a relationship, and having someone who really likes me. Like, I can't imagine someone imagining me, I can't imagine someone thinking about me wether they're bored or not, can't imagine someone having butterflies because of me, can't imagine someone being so excited just to talk to me. It all seems so impossible to happen. I'm not even sure if there're things that I can make them smile by just looking at me, I'm completely ordinary.

[runlienie]

seeing this after falling in love kind of hits hard.

Anyway, hello. Somehow I’ve been gaining my passion for writing lately. It feels dead here though.

[shakespearesdaughters]

[remanence-of-love]

[runlienie]

— KAVEH BOT UPDATES

[runlienie]

EVEN DAWN IS STILL FAR AWAY

— Kaveh x Cheating!Reader

notes/warning: sensitive content, heavy angst implied (I think), cheating reader, smut implied but not heavily detailed (I think), on hold, bad writing.

Even dawn is still far away.

“Concealing the ache of her infidelity, I hold onto love’s fragile thread. Silent witness to betrayal, I endure, fearing loss more than the pain of secrets. Hoping my steadfast presence can resurrect what’s tarnished, I bear the burden, uncertain if staying guarantees revival or seals my heart’s quiet defeat. I welcome pain as I am seen nothing but a second chance, I’d rather be in pain than not be yours.”

“Happy birthday,”

Candles that signified my age were lit up with fire, my lover held the cake in front of me with a smile, waiting for me to finish my birthday wish and blow the lit up sticks.

My birthday wish was rather simple. In fact, my wish had already came true—she’s right in front of me. I closed my eyes, I wish that this will never change, ever. I want to stay like this forever until my hair grows white and my skin turns wrinkly, there’s nothing more in this world that I could wish for but to always have her wherever I go. With a small smile, I blew the candles with a throbbing heart against my chest, feeling the love I have in store just for her getting intense. It never changed. I love her more than yesterday, and I’m sure I will love her more tomorrow.

“So, what was your birthday wish?” she asked, slowly placing the cake back on the table.

I chuckled, “You want to know?” I asked back, and she nodded. “I would love to tell you. But I’m afraid it might not come true if I do.” I added.

“Then, did your wish last year come true then?” she tilted her head in curiosity.

I leaned in and gently kissed her on the lips, “It certainly did.” I replied confidently. My wish was her after all.

“Really?” she hummed, wrapping her arms around my neck as she rests her head near my neck, leaning her weight on mine as we both made small steps, left and right, as if we were slow dancing waltz in the dim room. I gently placed my hands on her waist, following her steps as I gave her head a long kiss as we both waddled, I nodded.

“What was it?” she asked. “Or are you not going to tell this one too?” she joked, we both chuckled.

“I suppose I could tell you about that one,” I replied, feigning innocence. “But let me taste the cake you made me first, it’s looking quite the art, my eyes kept on going towards it.” I pulled away a little as I gestured at the cake sitting on the table.

She nodded and pulled me by the hand, guiding me to sit beside her as we both rested on the couch. I watched as her hands held the knife, slowly yet gracefully cutting a piece for me and for herself. That very hand worked so elegantly, just like how she would caress my face when we both laid on the floor on a random Wednesday afternoon, chatting about random things that comes up to mind, which would lead us until evening. I took this moment as a given chance to scan her side profile, more like rescan since I’ve done it multiple times. Despite seeing her face every second, she still makes my heart flutter with her beauty. It felt like a sin to admire her features like a madman, I probably sound and look obsessed. I just can’t help but think how could she be so effortlessly perfect with whatever she does. An angel fallen from the Gods. A blessing, my muse for every pieces I make with my hands.

She placed a slice on a small plate, I leaned on her shoulder, pressing my mouth on her clothes as I slowly took in her scent that I’ve grown familiar and attached. “My birthday wish last year was to finally have you as mine.” I mumbled against her shoulder, looking at her hair whilst she gave us both a slice of the strawberry cake.

“You wished for me?” she asked, as if repeating for my confirmation. Perhaps to feed her ego, and I don’t have any complaints about it, if that was the case. I nodded and sat properly, looking at the slice she gave me. “And this year, I wish that you’re mine forever.” I added.

I stabbed the yellow and white layers with my fork, cutting a small piece and bring it towards my mouth. The sweetness of the cream exploded in my mouth, the sour flavor of the strawberry jam added a mix to it, it was delicious. “I love this cake.” I then said.

“I’m glad.” She nodded, smiling a little as she ate hers too. “it took me a lot of hours.”

“You could’ve just bought one, to save your energy.” I commented.

“I wanted to see you eat the cake that was made with my hands,” she answered, “Just like how I look at your paintings of me. I know I can’t paint, so I thought maybe I could make something that you can eat and at least satisfy your stomach, just like how my eyes are satisfied with your art.”

I love her.

“Well, it’s safe to say that I am thoroughly satisfied. I appreciate this, a lot.”

Today, I turned twenty-eight.

Sweet melodies escaped her mouth as I roamed my hands around her body, her delicate fingers gently scraped the skin of my scalp. Apparently, the cake wasn’t the only thing she had as gift for my birthday. I was curious, and curiosity led me to this. It ended with me hovering above her bare body underneath mine, her squirming from my touch as my lips licked and lapped on her neck. This was one great birthday gift.

“Don’t hesitate.” She said, looking at me in the eyes.

“I’m not,” I am.

In the intimate cocoon of our shared space, the room transforms into an ethereal sanctuary, bathed in the soft glow of flickering candlelight. Her presence is a magnetic force, drawing me closer with an irresistible allure that transcends the physical. As we embark on this journey of passion, every heartbeat, every shared breath, becomes a symphony of connection.

The air is charged with an anticipation that mirrors the electricity coursing through our intertwined fingers. I marvel at the curves and contours of her body, a landscape I know intimately yet never cease to appreciate. The delicate arch of her neck beckons, and I lean in, savoring the taste of her skin, an elixir that ignites the flames of our desire.

Her eyes, pools of endless depth, meet mine in a silent covenant. In that exchange, words become superfluous; the language of our connection is written in the shared gaze, a narrative of longing and understanding. I feel the warmth of her breath against my cheek, a prelude to the poetry we are about to create together.

“You’re killing me,” she whispers.

As our lips meet in a fervent dance, I am acutely aware of the power of this singular act. It’s not just a meeting of mouths; it’s the convergence of souls. Each kiss is a whispered promise, an affirmation of the love that transcends the physical realm. Our mouths become vessels of expression, conveying emotions too profound for mere words.

The room becomes a tableau of passion, and every caress is a stroke on the canvas of our connection. My hands, calloused from the trials of life, traverse the landscape of her body with a tenderness reserved for this sacred act. I am an artist, sculpting pleasure with every touch, navigating the map of her desires with an intimate knowledge that only lovers possess.

Time seems to stretch and contract, a malleable dimension that bends to the rhythm of our shared longing. The sheets beneath us cradle our fervor, bearing witness to the ebb and flow of our passion. It’s a tactile dance, an exploration of sensation that transcends the physical into the sublime.

Her moans, a melody of vulnerability, resonate in the room. They are notes in a symphony of shared ecstasy, a soundtrack that underscores the crescendo of our connection. In these moments, I am both the composer and the instrument, attuned to the harmonies of our desire.

Bodies entwine, an intricate dance choreographed by the heart. Every touch, every shared breath, is a testament to the intimacy we’ve cultivated over time. I revel in the warmth of her skin against mine, the sensory tapestry that binds us in this sacred act of love.

As the tempo of our connection quickens, the room becomes a sanctuary of vulnerability. We lose ourselves in the tidal wave of sensation, a free fall into the depths of shared pleasure. It’s a surrender, a letting go, as we navigate the uncharted territories of each other’s desires.

In the intensity of our connection, I become an architect of pleasure. Every nuanced touch is a deliberate stroke, building towards a climax that promises release and renewal. She responds with a abandon, a reciprocal dance that defies articulation. In this shared vulnerability, we find strength—a paradoxical union that elevates our intimacy.

The room, once a mere backdrop, now bears witness to the aftermath of our passion. The candlelight, a witness to our shared journey, casts a warm glow on our entwined bodies. We lie side by side, breaths slowing, bodies sated, and the world outside fades into insignificance.

In this quiet aftermath, as we savor the tenderness of shared vulnerability, the room becomes a sanctuary of reflection. I look at her, the woman whose body I know intimately, and yet, with every encounter, she reveals new dimensions. Our connection is a living entity, evolving with each shared moment.

As we lie entwined, words exchanged become whispers of tenderness. The room, a silent witness to our intimacy, becomes a repository of shared memories. I am acutely aware of the profound beauty inherent in these quiet moments—the raw authenticity of our connection laid bare.

In the gentle aftermath, I am both sated and hungry—for more moments like these, for an enduring connection that transcends the physical. The room, bathed in the afterglow of our shared passion, is a testament to the alchemy of love. We navigate the tender landscape of post-passion, bodies still humming with the echoes of shared ecstasy.

In her eyes, I find a reflection of my own vulnerability. The room, now silent and still, echoes with the resonance of our shared journey. I reach for her hand, fingers entwining in a gesture that transcends words. We linger in the quiet space between breaths, reveling in the profound intimacy that only lovers can know.

My heart throbs at the sight of her sleeping inside the fabric I own.

There’s something intimate in seeing your lover using your clothes as theirs. The size difference was fairly visible, my body is larger than hers. My heart swells. Perhaps it the thought of her skin touching the same fabric that I use, that my skin touches. That her body is inhaling my scent that has drowned in that very shirt hours ago, while my shirt inhales hers, just like when someone breathes air.

I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her close to me, pulling her hip towards mine as I buried my face on her shoulder, taking in her warmth and scent.

You’re all I want.

“Are you awake?” no response, just breathing.

I closed my eyes and hold her close. My mind lingers from thought to thought. I could never live without this woman. If ever time does come where I need to live without her, I would rather die instead and hope I get to relive the same life again and again. Or maybe not. I could get reincarnated as a different person. Shame how I won’t probably meet her in a different lifetime. I cannot fathom how life will work without a person like her.

“My girl,” I mumbled softly. “You’re going out with your friends tonight, hm?” I asked, as if she could hear me in her slumber. I frowned, “Why must you go without me? Girls night, tsk,”

Last night she said she was going to drink with her girl friends. I allowed her since she’s been with me for far too long, I only think she deserves like a day off from taking care of me. Knowing her, she’s a responsible drinker—the most responsible drinker I know, her friends know, and my friends know. But why must she go after a night like yesterday? When I’m very attached at the moment? I feel like sulking.

I slowly sat up, pushing the sheets away from tangling my legs as I covered her to her shoulder.

“You really have to wear that?” I asked her, watching her struggle with the strings on the back of her dress. She wasn’t asking for help, I watched her try her best to tie it. She looks breathtaking, her black dress traced her curves so perfectly that I envy those friends of hers who will be seeing the most of it later at night when she heads to the party.

“Does it look bad?” she asked, walking backwards to me, as if she was asking for my help without being verbal. I pressed my chest on the back of the chair, sitting on it backwards as I pulled her by the strings with one hand. “it doesn’t.” I replied truthfully.

“I’m just asking if you really have to wear this and look this good. I don’t want other guys looking at you. Thirsting for you, I’m not there to protect you.” I explained, pouting slightly. Seems like I really can’t force her to let me come with her. “Do I just pull them until you’re satisfied or something?” I then asked, pulling the strings to make it tighter.

She grabbed her hair and lifted it with one hand as she hung her head low, she nodded. “a little bit more.” She said, and I complied. I pulled it more, slowly, waiting for her to say stop. “Can you even breathe?” I asked in concern. I feel like I’m the one getting crushed as I watch the fabric tighten, does she really have to wear this?

“A little more,” she insisted. I pulled them again.

“Save a little space? You’re eating later, right? You might throw up,” I said looking up at her.

“Fine,” she chuckled, and I was relieved instantly. I didn’t want her ribs to be crushed just because she wanted to look prettier than how she already is. She looks even better without the dress anyway. She’s going to need those ribs when she carries my child.

“Am I really not allowed to come with you?” I asked, sounding desperate to come with her. What do you even do in girl’s night? Drink and gossip? I can do both of that, I don’t see a reason why I cannot come with her.

She turned around, “Girl’s night.” She simply answered, letting go of her hair. She knew well that I know there’s no more explanation for that. “I’ll bring some food for you when I come back, how’s that?”

I pouted again. “What time are you coming back anyway? Do you need someone to pick you up? Can I pick you up?” I asked as I kissed her right wing bone gently.

“No need,”

I sighed and slowly pulled away, nodding in defeat as I looked at her. “Just—be safe, okay?” I was convinced that her mind was not going to change, despite my attempts. It was futile. I decided not to push further, not wanting her mood to get ruined. What could go wrong anyway? I find it stupid, why was I so worried? I have my trust in her.

“Don’t worry. You’re worrying too much. I’ll text you when something happens, alright? I’ll update you when something happens.” She turned around to face me with a soft expression as she reassured me. How could I ever say no to those eyes? That look alone makes me melt like snow exposed in apricity. I nodded in response, finally letting go of the topic as I started a different one.

“are you going to put your hair up?” I asked as I stroked the stand of her soft hair beside her face. She looked at my hands, “Should I?’ she asked me back, “What do you think?”

“I can braid some of them,” I suggested.

“sounds good.” She nodded and grabbed the hair brush from the vanity, passing it to me. I grabbed it from her grip as I stood up from the chair that I was sitting on, gesturing her to go sit on it. She understood my language immediately as she sat down, back facing me as I started to brush her hair. My fingers brushed the strand of her hair near her ear, brushing it to the back as some of her baby hairs fell like grains getting hit by the wind on a summer day.

In the warmth of our shared space, soft strands of her hair cascaded through my fingers like silk. The room was bathed in a gentle glow, creating an intimate atmosphere that mirrored the tenderness between us. As I carefully sectioned her hair, our eyes met in the mirror—a silent exchange of connection that spoke volumes.

The subtle scent of her shampoo filled the air, a comforting fragrance that added to the sense of familiarity. With each deliberate movement, I wove the strands together, my fingers moving with a practiced rhythm born from shared moments and countless touches. The act of braiding became a language of its own, a silent conversation expressing the depth of my affection.

As the braid took shape, I marveled at the intricacies of her hair—the way it held the memory of sunlit days and the softness that spoke of nights spent in quiet companionship. The room echoed with the soft rustle of hair and the occasional murmur, creating a private symphony that encapsulated the intimacy of the moment.

Our reflections in the mirror seemed to capture more than just the physical act of braiding. They held the echoes of laughter, shared dreams, and the unspoken promises that had woven our lives together. Each pass of my fingers through her hair felt like a reaffirmation of the connection we had built, a tangible expression of love.

As the final strands fell into place, I secured the braid with a gentle tie, my hands lingering in a moment of quiet reverence. Stepping back, I admired the finished creation—a testament to the intimacy we shared. Her eyes met mine in the reflection, a soft smile playing on her lips, acknowledging the unspoken language we had crafted between us.

Leaning in, I pressed a tender kiss to her temple, the gesture carrying the weight of all the emotions we had woven into that simple braid. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the shared history of our love, we found a beauty that surpassed the physical—a beauty that resonated in the silent gestures and the unspoken vows exchanged in the language of braided strands.

“My masterpiece,” I murmured, looking at her eyes through the mirror, my lips pressed against her skin as I smiled softly. “Better, yeah?”

“Better,” she nodded with a soft smile. “Do you need me to cook you something before I go with my friends?”

I shook my head, running my palms through her head, “No need, I can manage. Just go and enjoy your party, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay”

Time has passed and it reached 12, half hour, dark night, no signs of her yet. I tried to recall, has she ever mentioned what time she was planning on coming back before she left? I must have forgotten, perhaps she had and I was too busy being all silly that I have forgotten.

My heart however, couldn’t rest in silence. My hands were itching to text and ask her when she was going back, why hasn’t she come back? Questions and thoughts swirled around my head, keeping me wide awake as I lied in bed—staring at the ceiling. I remember well, I recall it well.

The first night with an empty bed space.

——————

SHOULD I CONTINUE?

yes

no

Voting ended onJan 19, 2024

this was something my past s/o really liked to read, I remember her squealing every time I showed her the updates on each chapter. unfortunately, me and her had broken up and I lost my motivation to continue it because, what is there to write when you don't have a muse? lmfao BUT! I've been slowly getting on track with drawing and writing, I could continue it because of my undying love for kaveh. I tried to publish it on AO3 but my account is getting too long for registration. I might as well publish it here for now because it's rotting in my pdfs. <3

[runlienie]

ALHAITHAM

— deaf user

KAVEH

— graduation

— dreams

— lost lover

— senior au

I know, I know. I know I have requests in my inbox rn, I'll write them soon okay? 😔

[runlienie]

I had this in my drafts for days now,

— pretty boyfriend, loser girlfriend

— loser boyfriend, pretty girlfriend.

[runlienie]

I'm so mad why are the kaveh bots less blowing up than the recent alhaitham bots I made, I really liked the kaveh edits imo it's so pretty why :'(

[runlienie]

Senior Alhaitham who helps junior reader with their thesis, knowing that they're bad at writing and elaborating—it doesn't matter how long it will take him as long as he is satisfied with your work. You will sit in the House of Daena for hours beside him and he will either watch every word you use, or read a book and awaits for your signal once you're done.

You and him both know you're bad at this. And he quite enjoys seeing you frustrated, even though he certainly don't find delight in other's misery, you were just so cute with your frown as you wrote.

"what does vacillate mean?" You asked, scratching your head.

"to be indecisive." He answers as he crossed his mascular arms. "If you're wondering how to use it, allow me to give you and example." He says and clears her throat.

"In your presence, my emotions vacillate like a flickering flame, uncertain but always drawn back to the comforting warmth of your smile." He says, looking at you to see if you got what he was hinting at.

"hmm, okay.." you nodded still unsure of how to use it, but somehow starting to grip onto it.

'Of course, you don't get it.' He thought and simply waited for you to finish.

Once you're finished, you gave him the paper and started to pack your things—until he stopped you. "What do you think you're doing?" He asks, pulling you down on your chair.

"Preparing to go home?" You reply.

"I know exactly what you're trying to do, miss. You want to leave as soon as you gave me your thesis so that if there's any correction, you won't have to deal with it." He scoffed. "Too bad, you won't be leaving until I have read all of it."

And, he caught you on the act.

"The differences between—" he started to read out loud but you cut him off.

"there's no need to read it out loud, read it mentally!" You urge him, feeling embarrassed to have someone like him who has great speech and writing skills to read your poorly written thesis, but it didn't stop him from reading further.

Being the low-key menace he was, he reads your work by voicing out so that you could hear it, and so that he could emphasize it more, he said. But he knew well he was driving you to the edge with embarrassment, and that's exactly what he was trying to aim for as he would purposely look at you in the eyes whenever he looks up from reading, smirking a little before going back to the paper.

And he does it until he reaches the end of your thesis.

[runlienie]

I had this in my drafts for days now,

— pretty boyfriend, loser girlfriend

— loser boyfriend, pretty girlfriend.

[runlienie]

A picture/screenshot of me checking if my kaveh both is as accurate as I wanted but this is how it went

[yakshaxiao-archived]

[runlienie]

— just thought about sharing these here because why not? I'm not TikTok famous so maybe it could blow up here right.

— some kaveh bots.

— GRADUATION | c.ai // polyspeak.ai

— RIVALRY TO LOVE | c.ai // polyspeak.ai

— EX-FRIEND | c.ai // polyspeak.ai