Kaveh Angst - Tumblr Posts

unreachable (kaveh x reader)

he's with you day by day, but as each one passes, you feel him growing distant. unreachable. you're not quite sure what changed.

content: angst, established relationship, gender neutral reader

warnings: might be ooc ?? also drinking (it's kaveh)

word count: 3.9k

author's note: HI TUMBLR this is my very first post here!!! hello!!!! also my first time writing in a hot minute so apologies if it's rusty. enjoy :)

sunday

you wake up drowsy and cold. the window is open, letting in a cool breeze. the space next to you on the bed is empty. the bedroom door is closed, though from the other side you can hear the sound of sizzling oil on a pan. kaveh cooks breakfast for you on the weekends, since his schedule doesn't allow him to on weekdays. you don't mind.

you go through the usual weekend morning routine. wash your face, slowly wake your body. the weather today isn't unpleasant; the sun hides behind the clouds, but you sense no sign of upcoming rain. kaveh greets you in the kitchen, wearing his pajamas and a smile. you give him a kiss on the cheek, and you chat about the weather while he flips strips of bacon on the stove.

it's just another sunday. unremarkable, but cozy. you spend time together over breakfast, laughing over the slightly burnt bits of bacon. he isn't used to cooking, since he rarely gets the chance, but he always tries his best. diffident apologies are never excluded from his dishes. seeing his shy smile makes you warm and appreciative.

later, you lay on the couch with him, entangled legs but separate worlds. he hunches over his laptop and a sketchbook, working on a project. the same kind he works on during the weekdays, and late into the nights. you tell him he should rest, he needs a break. he could watch a movie with you. you two could go out somewhere. you haven't gone on a proper date in a while, you tell him. it's sunday, he should be free of his work for once.

he waves you off. he's almost done. just a bit more, he claims, just like he always does. his eyes remain glued to the drafts and the blueprints. they don't catch how your lips straighten into a line, too focused on the ones on his screen.

you've been with him for almost a year. there was a time you could draw him away from his work. in the earlier days, all it took were a kiss and a soft plea, and you would have all of him on you, his hands, his gaze, his attention. nowadays you're not sure if he even hears you sometimes.

the rest of the day is uneventful. you do what you can to pass the time. you read a book as his keyboard clacks, his pencil scratches against the paper. he asks if the sounds bother you, suggests that you could read in the bedroom instead, it'd be more comfortable. they do bother you, just the slightest bit, but you shake your head and say you want to stay.

that night, you get ready for bed together. you brush your teeth together, smile at each other in the mirror. you kiss each other goodnight, and sleep with your backs to one another.

monday

kaveh's alarm wakes you. it trills in your ears, long and loud. you aren't accustomed to the sound lately. usually, you wake to your own alarm. this is the first time in a while you've heard his.

the alarm rings on and on, yet kaveh remains still, deeply asleep, lying on his back. you don't want him to wake up. you stare at his face, peaceful in his sleep, not burdened with stress or frustration from his work. those two emotions seemed to be all he would take home with him during the weekdays. something tells you this was the first good sleep he's had in a while.

all too soon, he stirs and wakes. he turns off the noise and plants a kiss to your head, apologizes for waking you, then moves around the room and around your little apartment, getting ready for work.

he leaves early. every day, he must be in his office at 8:00 a.m. to talk to clients, manage whatever building of his is being constructed at the moment, the works. he used to tell you all about it, and you would listen regardless of how much or how little you understood of his work. these days he just doesn't have the time or energy.

on the other hand, you work from home. your job is one that requires only your computer and half of your day, more or less. your own alarm goes off not long after kaveh has left. your days without him are routine and simple. you make the bed, make yourself breakfast, get to work for a bit. some days you clean the house, other days you get the groceries. it's mundane, and today is no different.

you set up your laptop and do your work on the small dining table near the kitchen. your little shared apartment doesn't have enough space for a study, so you and kaveh make do with the rooms you have.

later in the afternoon, after you've finished your work tasks, you decide to cook something for kaveh once he gets home. upon inspecting the cupboards, you discover that you have all the ingredients needed for a simple cream of mushroom soup. it's his favorite. when you finish, you let the pot sit on the stove.

the rest of the day is uneventful. you're used to the boredom. you send kaveh a text, saying you made him his favorite soup. he responds a couple hours later with a thank you.

his job is supposed to end at 5 p.m., but you count yourself lucky if he makes it home before 7. more often than not, he stays at his office overtime, sometimes because clients and contractors hold him up, though mostly because he throws himself into his work and loses track of time. you never saw the point in that, since he always ended up bringing his work home and doing it here anyway.

when he arrives home, he carries not only his suitcase but also an air of dejectedness you've come to be well acquainted with.

you try to comfort him as best you can, but as the months have gone by, your company seems to have less and less of an effect as a distraction from his woes. you sit with him on the couch and ask him what's wrong, but he brushes you off. the usual, he says. that's what he tends to reply with these days, and it's been so long since he's elaborated further that you can hardly recall what "the usual" is anymore.

you miss the way he would talk your ear off about all of his problems, the way he would pass them all onto you for you to dispel them with sweet, comforting words and gestures. you were his rock.

silence stretches between you and him. you aren't quite sure how to break it and even less sure that he wants you to.

tentatively, you tell him a little about your day. there isn't much to tell, and you feel somewhat bad telling him about your job that is less taxing than his. he seems to be listening, but he doesn't have much to say in response. only a few hums and nods. he must be exhausted.

you remember the soup you made him, and you tell him. his lips twitch up into a small smile in acknowledgement, though his ruby red eyes, weighed down by eyebags, hold only his tiredness.

when you set down two bowls of soup on the dining table, soft snores emanate from kaveh's body, now haphazardly draped across the couch. you think to wake him for dinner, but something inside you makes you stop. you don't know what it is, but there's this feeling, a voice in your head saying he'd probably just prefer to sleep there undisturbed. it's not a new occurrence.

so you eat alone. the second bowl goes into the fridge.

tuesday

this time, your own alarm is what wakes you. when you get up, you find that kaveh has already left for work. you guess he slept on the couch all night, because you didn't feel him climb into bed with you, and the sheets on his side of the bed remain unwrinkled.

you go through the usual cycle of work and boredom. nothing noteworthy happens with your work or around the house. you start pondering many things in your free time. you think about how you should probably clean the house one of these days. there's been a bit of dust on the counters, the shelves.

you think about kaveh, who must be working himself to the bone. you know he loves his job. no matter the obstacles he would have to face, all the issues and complications, he would always express to you that there isn't anything else he'd rather be doing.

nowadays… he doesn't tell you much of anything. it's like he closed off. you know he still loves his job. it's been his passion to be an architect his whole life. you don't sense that that has changed, but… something else has. his job has always been a demanding one. you're used to seeing him come home exhausted, stressed. but he confides in you about it less and less. you don't know why.

the question of why isn't a particularly new one. it's been there in the back of your mind, occasionally surfacing on days like this. you never had an answer, so you would usually push it away and pretend like there's nothing to question at all. that's what you intend to do today, just like the countless times before. you don't want to bother him with it anyway.

when he gets home, it's the same, but he seems less tired than the day before. he brought home takeout for dinner, and the two of you make small talk as you eat. you bring out the soup from yesterday too, and he thanks you for it. he apologizes that he didn't eat it yesterday. you wave him off, it's not a big deal.

the conversation doesn't get detailed or personal. any spectator that would happen upon the two of you might not realize that you've been together for over a year. the words that flow between you and him are friendly but not intimate. an unfamiliar feeling seems to tug at your heart, something that feels like sadness or confusion or dread, but you ignore it as you exchange idle chatter.

kaveh offers to do the dishes, but you stop him and do them yourself. he gives you a smile, and you see the tinge of gratitude in his tired eyes.

later, when you're about to head to bed, you bid kaveh goodnight while he hunches over a sketchbook on the couch, and you know he'll probably fall asleep there again.

before you go, you watch him from the hall; he's right there, yet somehow he feels… unreachable. your chest twinges again with that strange feeling. your lips part and you feel like you want to say something, but there's really nothing to be said.

you face kaveh's side of the bed when you lay. you feel a little cold, and the soft light peeking from beneath the door feels so far away.

wednesday

when you wake up, his side of the bed is empty and seemingly undisturbed once again. part of you thinks that maybe he just fixes and straightens out the sheets before he leaves, but you know that isn't something he'd do.

the rest of the house isn't as empty, though. as you make your morning coffee, you idly look around your place. it feels like it's been a while since you've really seen it.

most of it just screams kaveh. he decorated the place when you first moved in. you helped choose some of the furniture, but ultimately, you let him have the creative freedon to do with them as he pleased. some stray sketches are scattered on the coffee table in the living room. next to them, a couple of pencils. you pick up one of the sheets of paper and see a gorgeous landscape drawn on it. a garden with winding pathways and dreamlike flora and a romantic gazebo right at the center.

something seems to gnaw at the inside of your chest. a feeling of yearning. you're not sure why, but this drawing has made you feel like you're missing something.

you miss kaveh. the realization strikes you so overwhelmingly that your grip on the sketch tightens, your frown deepens. you miss him.

so what now?

you sift through a few more of his drawings, most of which are unfinished. as your eyes skim over his messy handwriting on each piece of paper, next to each grand building and humble house, the urge to call him, to hear his voice, to feel him with you becomes too much to bear.

where is this coming from? why are you feeling this? he was with you last night, wasn't he?

no, not really.

…but in the end, you decide to keep your feelings to yourself, and you decide not to call and disturb him while he's at work. though, to at least satiate the gnawing and pulling and dragging in your chest, you shoot him a text saying you hope his work is going smoothly. he responds a little bit later with a thank you, saying he hopes the same for you. and that's enough.

thursday

you're surprised when the first thing you see upon waking up is kaveh's back. the clock on your nightstand reads 3:08 a.m. and everything else is dark, but you can just make out his silhouette lying next to you.

the aching in your heart comes back. you will yourself to push it down and go back to sleep, but it demands to be felt. you feel it stronger than ever, the urge to reach out to him and pull his body to yours and feel him against you. nothing should be stopping you, but you hesitate nonetheless. you prop yourself onto your elbow and gaze at him for a while. even here, mere inches away, he is unreachable. you lean down and ghost your lips on his shoulder and whisper i miss you before laying back down and drifting back to sleep.

when you wake up again, the morning sun colors the bedroom, and you see that kaveh no longer occupies the space next to you. the rumpled sheets in his place tell you that you didn't just dream of his presence there last night.

the day passes by in a blur. it feels like the only thing you're fully conscious of is the dull sadness in your heart. you miss kaveh overwhelmingly. it confuses you how far away he feels even when he's right next to you. it's as if some invisible barrier has grown between you and him. you just miss being close with him.

when he gets home, you expect your heart to lighten, but it only seems to weigh down on you more. you can't help but envelop him in a soft hug when he walks through the door. you hope he can feel some of the yearning in your embrace. he returns the hug halfheartedly. he's just tired from work.

as you have dinner together in the low light of the dining room, you can't help but watch everything kaveh does. he's the same as he'd been since you met him. the way he holds his fork is the same as it was when you first went out to dinner together. all his little mannerisms, the way his body moves with everything he does, it's all so familiar to you. his whole being is chronicled in your mind. you liked to think that there wasn't anything you didn't know about him, but lately, you aren't so sure anymore.

and so it's back once more, the urge to reach out, the urge to ask him so many things and feel him with you again. the feeling that he's so distant despite being right in front of you. unconsciously, your grip on your fork tightens. you watch him some more out of the corner of your eye, unsure. his eyes focus only on his food.

your thoughts and wants whirl around you until you can no longer bear the silence between you and him.

finally, you manage to open up and ask him. why are you so distant lately? why don't you tell me things anymore?

you intended to sound stronger, gentle but still confrontational, but you felt like a little kid as you spoke. like you doubted your own words, that your questions might be unreasonable.

he doesn't give you an answer. for a long time, he stays silent. he stops eating and refuses to meet your eyes. his name leaves your lips, so soft and so small that you think he didn't hear. so you repeat it, more insistently. your mind floods with pleas that lodge in your throat. please. answer. tell me.

seemingly sensing your growing desperation, kaveh looks into your hopeful and pleading eyes, and simply says: i don't know. i'm sorry.

in his ever-familiar scarlet eyes, in that face you know like the back of your hand, you feel like you see a stranger in the windows of his soul.

that night, you toss and turn alone in your bed. the emptiness of it used to be so easily excused as kaveh simply accidentally falling asleep with his work. only now did it occur to you that he might have been doing it intentionally.

your mind feels like a storm of confusion and frustration and sadness. you wish you had the strength and reason to scream at him. instead, hot tears fall onto his pillow where you lay your head.

friday

the day feels dull and empty. you aren't entirely sure what to do. you go through the motions of a normal work day, but it's obvious that you're lost and helpless. you feel weak, being so uncertain of where kaveh stands. you're certain that he still loves you... that maybe he's just going through something within the confines of his own mind. he needs only to let you in so you can repair the rift between you two, so you can heal whatever's broken inside him.

throughout the day, you subconsciously make a vague script of things you want to say to kaveh when he arrives home.

please tell me what's wrong, kaveh.

i'm here for you, kaveh.

please come back to me, kaveh.

every sentence formed is laced with desperation. it feels like you're screaming into an empty cave, no response besides the echo of your distress.

all you want is for things to go back to how they used to be. you yearn for kaveh's eyes to shine with all the love and adoration in his heart like they used to whenever he looked at you. you miss feeling his warm gaze, his strong arms around your body, conveying every ounce of affection he couldn't express with words.

you just miss his love.

strangely, the day feels excruciatingly long, but also as if it passed in the blink of an eye. you're entrapped within the haze of your own longing.

you don't realize how late it is when kaveh gets home. you intend to greet him casually, so that you don't overwhelm him. you intend to communicate your feelings to him over dinner. though you're overflowing with things to say, you don't wish to go overboard.

but you soon forget all of that, because one look at him slightly swaying by the entrance immediately tells you that he's drunk. all your thoughts are instantly replaced by concern. you rush to his side while he holds a hand against his head. instinctually, you begin fussing over him, asking him why he drank, how much he had. you know he's not good at handling his liquor. the redness taking over his face and neck indicate that he drank a lot.

you don't remember exactly when, but there was a time he promised you he'd stop drinking to this extent. one late night, he came home drunk after work, in a state similar to his current one. you fussed and worried about him. you lectured him too. so he promised he would stop, because he didn't want to cause you more distress.

now, you ask him why he's broken his promise. maybe you were right in thinking something was wrong with his work, enough to drive him to drinking again. in your flurry of emotions, you barely give him room to breathe. you seem to briefly forget yourself as you reach up and cradle his face in your hands. gently, you plead, tell me what's wrong.

he takes your wrists and sighs before stepping away from you. your name leaves his lips in a broken whisper. he looks at you, and you see every bit of your desperation and chaos in your reflection in his eyes. his eyes, which are pained, bloodshot, defeated. he apologizes.

you step towards him. you don't want an apology. you want an explanation. he starts by saying that he cares about you. that you still mean something to him, that you'll always be someone important. it sounds like he's rambling.

everything else blurs. the only things you fully perceive in the next moments are the words that leave his mouth and the look in his eyes as he says them, resolute, mournful, regretful.

i just don't love you anymore.

saturday

they say drunk words are sober thoughts. deep down, you knew he'd say those words eventually. you've been in denial for the longest time. always trying to push away the notion that he no longer loved you. you always thought it was impossible, but part of you knew this was inevitable. it didn't matter that he was drunk. you both knew the words have been sitting on his tongue for a while now.

maybe that's why you didn't cry that night. when you went into the bedroom and lied down, yes you were sad, but there was also a sort of relief there. a burden was lifted from your shoulders and his. you no longer have to pretend. as you drifted off to sleep, you felt somewhat weightless.

it's midday now. the gravity of what happened starts to settle in. you lay on the couch, which smells like him, and your tears fall onto the cushions. kaveh is nowhere in the house. he left you with a note, saying he'll be staying at a friend's place. in the note, he promised he'd come back and you two could talk. the tiny naive part of you felt hope that he meant to work things out with you. but you know it's hopeless.

the silence of your home stabs into your ears. you cocoon yourself in memories of him, in sheets with his scent, in his drawings and once endless musings. your heart won't stop reaching for what isn't there. you still don't fully understand how someone could just fall out of love. but there's nothing else you can do about it now.

all you can do is let him go.

sunday

you wake up drowsy and cold. you stare at the ceiling for a very long time. no sounds of sizzling or pleasant humming make their way to where you lie. birds chirp their morning song, car engines phase past.

his world rotates without you.

oh my lord, thinking abt kaveh who comes home and sees his beloved s/o in his oversized shirt and he suddenly gets so possessive at the sight and just rails you all while youre wearing only his shirt 😩 idk im just head over heels over this pretty man and him being dominant is just muah 👌🏻 ndjwndkskks bonus: i imagine kaveh losing it if it’s alhaitham’s shirt you’re wearing one day instead of his and all hell loose

I will admit rn that I know absolutely nothing about this man, but omggg... he's so gorgeous I can't–

This is longer than I planned but that just shows how much I love this idea. Ty for sharing 🩷

I've never done angst so pls ignore if it's clumsy

Jealous Kaveh

Reader: Bottom!Gn // Genre: Smut, angst

Cw: angst (he thinks you're cheating), rough/emotional sex, slight choking, slight degradation, it gets resolved I promise

Due to your recent antics, Kaveh is wholly unsurprised by what he finds when walking through the door to his room: you, leaning against the wall in a clearly provocative manner, clad in only a shirt so huge on you that the sleeves almost reach your mid thigh.

Rolling his eyes, but unable to hide the affectionate smile that breaks through, Kaveh makes his way over to you. His hand takes its usual place on your hip, though when he pulls you nearer, he can't help but notice that something feels... off. Different.

The odd feeling settles low in his stomach, making him feel almost nauseous, but he pushes it to the back of his mind quickly. He wouldn't want to push you away, especially not when you're looking this good, and obviously trying to rile him up – again.

Kaveh draws you into a kiss, then. It's slower than usual, passing for overly loving, when in reality, his mind is filing through the new information that has so rudely made itself welcome in his mind.

You smell like Al Haitham; or, more so – he notices as he leans down to kiss your neck – the shirt you're wearing does.

Ah, it all makes sense now.

He'd registered that something was out of place as soon as he'd seen you: the shirt itself was of a similar fashion as his own, so while he didn't immediately recognise it, it was a common enough fit that he wouldn't be surprised to see it in his closet. But, even so, the mischievous smile you'd failed so miserably to hide certainly gave away that you were hiding something.

Kaveh wasn't sure he wanted to know what that was.

With a frustrated groan, Kaveh pushes you against the wall, taking care to cushion the back of your head with his hand. He breaks the kiss then, looking deep into your eyes, and the intensity that swirls in his own makes you almost nervous.

He was angry. But, what made you really realise your mistake with this little prank, was the watery glaze of tears that covered his eyes.

Just as you're about to apologise, reach out your hand to encase his cheek in your loving warmth before the situation gets out of hand, he beats you to it.

His hand shoots up to encase your neck, cutting off your words as he presses his lips to yours once again, messy and unco-ordinated – nothing like the kisses you usually share. The barest hint of pressure against the sides of your throat coax you to gasp against him, grabbing onto his shoulders at the threat. But it's not needed, really. Kaveh can make you light-headed with a single look; so how's it going to be this time, when his control has already unravelled, just barely hanging on by a thread that's ready to snap?

Minutes go by like this. You, pressed to the wall and squirming beneath Kaveh's rough handling; and Kaveh, one hand roaming your body in a hurry, the other pinning your tongue down so that you can't try to explain, collecting your drool before it spills.

Finally having enough, Kaveh grips onto the collar of the shirt that drapes over your body, his hand tensing before it jerks with a quick movement– the offensive fabric falling to the floor in two pieces soon after. As if seeing and feeling it weren't enough, the distinct "Riiipp" that sounded far louder than it should have in your ears was certainly enough to glue you in to what Kaveh had just done.

You'd both be in trouble once Al Haitham found out. But first, you'd have to hope you can get through the wrath of your jealous boyfriend before even starting to worry about that.

Now that you'd separated, you could finally see the full effect of the situation in Kaveh's face and erratic actions. He's keeping you as close to him as possible while also keeping you pressed flat against the wall, the fingers that are coated with your spit coming down to press directly into your exposed hole. As impatient as he's feeling, his movements are still sound and practical, making you feel good and forcing moans from your mouth at how different than usual it all feels.

Even though you feel bad for making him feel this way (you really should have thought this through more beforehand), you can't help but enjoy the roughness of his actions. His fingers move fast and hard, scraping deliciously against your walls as they curl inside of you, coaxing you to open up for him. It leaves you clinging onto him to support your balance, your legs growing shaky from the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

But then, it's over far too quickly. Kaveh pulls away before you can reach your peak, hoisting you up until your legs are locked together behind his back. And then, with no other warning, he's pushing into you.

It's instantly overwhelming, the pace he sets from the start a complete 180 from what you're used to with him.

On any other night, you'd describe the sex between you and Kaveh to be making love. Gentle touches and whispered praises, kisses full of passion and reciprocated "I love you"s.

Tonight, he's gripping you hard enough to form bruises, harsh breaths being hissed against your skin, bites of desperation and broken "I love you"s. Except this time, his hand covers your mouth, forcing you to listen as he pours his heart out. Tonight, he's well and truly fucking you.

And it's all because he thinks he's losing you.

As much as you want to take him into your arms and wrap him into a hug so tight that he can't move, so that he has to listen to you as you explain about how stupid you'd been... you know there'd be no getting through to him as he is now.

Of course, if you'd truly wanted him to stop, if he was hurting you rather than sending bursts of white-hot pleasure coursing through your entire being with every rough thrust that smacks against your ass – then he would. As far gone as he is in his own mind, taking out his confusion and anger on you – Kaveh would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. Even now, he's looking into your eyes every few moments, a silent check-in to make sure you still want this. To make sure you still want him.

He's high-strung on emotions, nerves running wild and caught up in the pleasure. The truth is, in this situation, the best thing to do is let him work through it however he needs.

...

A while passes like this, his hands glued to your hips, hard cock slamming as deep into you as possible. Eventually, Kaveh's mind finally starts to come back to him, as he takes in the utter mess he's made of you: eyes rolled back, mouth parted around the moans that are punched out of you with every push of his hips, and nails digging into his shoulders and slicing down to his chest when you're jostled too far.

He's slowing down his erratic thrusts then, worried it's too much for you, that he's overdone it. He's about to pull out, ready to take care of you so that you can have a proper conversation once you're both in the right headspace, when he's completely taken back by your response:

You slam yourself back down onto his cock, begging him not to stop and to be rougher.

And only then does Kaveh realise that this was your plan all along.

No longer is he worried about the security of your relationship or the validity of your feelings for him. You were just being a needy little whore, begging for attention and playing on his frustration with his room-mate.

Now, as he picks his thrusts back up to the blinding speed they'd been before, insults and degradation spills from his lips, mixed with the grounding kisses that you'd started to miss. Now, it was the perfect mix of gentle and rough, old and new.

And when the night is over, cum dripping from your hole, Kaveh will pick up the discarded shirt that got you into this mess in the first place, using it as a cloth to wipe up the sticky mess that drips down your thighs.

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Thank you for reading! 🩷