Theresstillsomethingimustdo - Rb!

there will always be

space for you and me

Coffee ☕🩷

I wish I could talk to everyone I've ever loved tonight and be like hey it's spring

zabuza & haku / shape of my heart

𝘈 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥-𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘻𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘤, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘌𝘶𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 15𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘺.

“𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗓𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖺𝖼 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖬𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗉𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗂𝖺, 𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗅𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖦𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖱𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖺𝗅 𝖤𝗎𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾. 𝖡𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝟣𝟧𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗎𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖠𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗂𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗇𝗂𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄. 𝖮𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗓𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖺𝖼 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗌, 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗀𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

ᴠɪᴀ ᴀʀᴄʜᴇᴏʟᴏɢʏᴀʀᴛ

Who’s Eid. Your gf?

Who’s Eid…….

it's rotten work, but without the rot nothing can grow

To Fly Into The Sun

radiohead/mahmoud darwish/marion ethel hamilton/olivia rodrigo/rubens/galileo chini/akwaeke emezi/herbert james draper/christophe vacher/olivia rodrigo/f. scott fitzgerald/ nikita gill/radiohead

never forget what they took from us.

battle of wills

Sae wants to act funny, but he doesn’t know you’re about to act hilarious.

wc — 2.7k

tags — romantic mind games, thinking of Sae like a predator that plays with his food, jealousy, possessiveness

“I don’t care who you fuck,” he says with a shrug. “We’re not dating.” 

Your hands still on the collar of his shirt that you’re smoothing down. It’s ten minutes before your dinner reservation, which means you’re going to be late, but you know the maître d' so it should be fine. It would be, if Sae didn’t insist on opening his fat mouth once a week to try to break your heart so he can prove to himself that he’s not invested. 

He’s not fooling anyone. You know you have him, hook, line, and sinker. When you made that joke about getting Kaiser’s number, it was just a joke. You didn’t even say you wanted to sleep with him! Sae came up with that implication all by himself. 

You have three options and only a few seconds to decide. Sweat beads on your forehead. You can practically see the timer run out, like an imaginary game with a big fat red buzzer letting you know you failed.

You can: 

a) say “we’re not dating?” in a whiny little broken voice and make it obvious you liked Sae more than he liked you 

b) sit in silence and make it awkward like you are currently doing 

c) fuck around and find out

So you only have one option, really. You’re not a coward, so it can’t be b, and you’d rather choke on your fancy steak tonight and die then ever let a man think he played you and got away with it. 

“Cool,” you say. “I’ll let Kaiser know he has your permission.” 

You’re joking, but you don’t think he is. 

“Cool,” Sae replies, but he’s so disinterested that you think he didn’t even hear the last half of your sentence. 

Dinner is great even though Sae is an asshole because he somehow still makes it fun to be with him. Your friends all ask you why you want him. They don’t see what you see; they think you’re just after the football fame, the fortune, the model like beauty. 

You’re a little more twisted than that. 

When you press your patent heel up against Sae’s calf, he doesn’t even flinch. He takes a long, slow draught of water - because he doesn’t drink alcohol, which is deliriously sexy to you for some reason - and raises an eyebrow at you. Everything about him is cool and collected, even when you inch higher and higher until you’re practically right between his legs. 

His hand slips under the table, grabs your ankle, and repositions it on his lap. He doesn’t spare a thought for how your dirty shoes are on his nice slacks. When you try to retract your foot because this is dangerous, this is not what you expected, his hand locks you in place. 

He holds your eye across the table. You wanted this, his eye contact says. Be good and take it. 

Sae is hard to read. 

He can be so apathetic, so indifferent to your words, and then draw warm, lazy circles on your pulse with his thumb. He looks mildly amused when your brain short circuits in the middle of your sentence, every neuron redirected to the feeling of his hand on your ankle, soaking in heat from his palm. 

You want to pull him apart and see what makes him tick. For you, love is almost like dissection. You want to be able to know him so intimately no one else will ever be able to say they come close. 

Although he apparently doesn’t feel the same about you. 

Knowing Sae is a rare privilege all in itself. You thought you were content. When you first met him, that’s all it was: fun. You liked pulling him apart and putting him back together, figuring out which parts of Sae were real and which were a front. But now, after a few months, you’re hooked. It’s become more than a game. It’s an addiction. 

The more he rejects you, the more you want him. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this pathetic in your life. You’ve never chased anyone the way you’ve done for him. 

It’s killing you to think about the numbers he’s done on your reputation. Your friends already think you’re whipped. 

You’re afraid to admit they’re right, and that’s the real reason you’re upset about what he said earlier. You never thought you were dating but you thought - 

Ugh. You don’t know why you expected him to care. 

Sae is, if an asshole, also a gentleman, so he pays for dinner and sends you home in an Uber on his card. 

You smile pleasantly until you get into the car and then you’re practically tearing your hair out. You need to make him regret this. 

So obviously the question now is who would make Sae the sickest to find out you got with? Who would have that man holding his stomach in tears? 

Shidou is too obvious and also you doubt that Sae would care. In a funny way, Shidou is the least you can do to him. 

Oliver? No, he’s too much of a slut. This needs to be a hit and run, an attack, but targeted. Aiku is just too easy to make Sae feel anything besides mild annoyance that you fucked his captain. 

You’d have to butter Kaiser up before you even got near him, and besides, Sae didn’t even react when you brought him up earlier. 

Your brain flinches away from Rin’s face when it pops up in your brain like you touched a hot stove, a solid rejection you don’t even have to think about. 

No. 

It hurts too much. You’re angry but you still care about Sae. This is- 

You want to piss him off, not hurt him irrevocably. Dating Rin right after not-dating him would be something the two of you couldn’t come back from. 

Even if Sae likes to pretend he’s not sensitive when it comes to his little brother, you know better. 

Back to the drawing board. 

The most important part is that Sae can’t know you’re trying to make him jealous, so it has to come up organically. You’re aiming for a teammate because you need someone who will talk about it in Sae’s locker room, someone who can get it to Sae without making it too obvious. 

All paths lead to Oliver Aiku. 

Unfortunately. 

You don’t even know if this is going to work. 

“Just so you know,” you tell him, “you weren’t my first choice.”

“Aw, why?” He asks. “You don’t think I’ll get Sae mad enough?” 

“Are you kidding me? If anything, he’s going to think I’ve lowered my standards! He’s not going to regret losing me, he’s going to think that I’m so pathetic his little rejection sent me off the deep end!” 

“But then he’ll be right,” Oliver says. “Considering he did lower your standards and send you off the deep end. You’re standing in my living room right now, aren’t you?” 

You squint at him. “And I can walk right back out, so don’t test me.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Oliver purrs. “I’m great at making men jealous.” 

“I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of.” 

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I’m going to take you somewhere your man couldn’t even dream of taking you.” 

“Oliver, this is a Wendy’s.” 

“Sae would never dream of taking you here,” he shrugs. “Wow, good bite! You’re great at eating.” 

“Okay, one, that’s a weird thing to say, and two, I’m going to go find someone else if you can’t help me. I know you can’t help yourself but since I’m your friend, I thought at the very least, you would try not to waste my time.” 

“Yeesh, calm down-“ 

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” 

“My bad,” he says cheerfully. “Trust me, I have a plan.” 

“I don’t trust you,” you say pointedly, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He ignores you. “What makes a man angrier than thinking you moved on?” 

“Moving on with his rival?” 

“Close. Thinking he never had you. See, Sae takes you on these fancy dates to high end restaurants and museums and what not. But you know how he is. He’s with you but he’s not really with you. You gotta beat him at his own game. Let him think that you were just indulging him when really this is what you want.” He scoots his chair closer to you until you can practically feel the warmth of him radiating through his thin shirt. His cologne smells like jasmine, a strangely delicate scent for him. “Make him feel like he never really knew you, because I’m the one who does.” 

You breathe in the scent of his feminine cologne, stalling. It would be so easy to listen to Oliver. It would be so easy to let him in your heart. He knows what to say and when to say it. 

In a way, he does know you. 

Familiarity is unavoidable with time, and you’ve been friends of circumstance for ages. 

“You just wanted an excuse to take me to Wendy’s,” you say with a fake laugh that is so perfected, you can only pick up the stilted quality of it if you really, really listen. 

He pulls out of your space a little, a smile playing on his lips. “You know me so well. That too.” 

Oliver knows you a little too well. He says the right things at the right times because he’s telling you what you want to hear. 

Are you destined to be toyed with by beautiful football players? 

In the car on the way back to your house, Oliver texts you. “Get him back for me, playa.”  

In the locker room, Oliver doesn’t start the conversation because that would be too obvious. He’s a respectful man, he doesn’t kiss and tell. It would be out of character for him to start bringing up last night’s exploits and Sae would catch on instantaneously. 

He waits until Sendou, not subtly, tries to ask him who that pretty girl he posted last night was. 

“Are you sure that was a girl? Aiku never posts who he’s with. It was probably his sister.” 

Oliver doesn’t see who said that, but he doesn’t take offense. Again, he doesn’t kiss and tell. Whoever he’s with is a secret. 

He lets them simmer for a little bit more before he casually drops your name, saying it was just a friendly meal. Out of the corner of his eye, Sae stops putting on his shirt. 

“I’ll say,” Sendou says. “You took her to Wendy’s? That’s foul even for you.” 

“Maybe she likes Wendy’s,” Aiku says. “You don’t know her.” 

Although that last part isn’t really directed at Sendou. 

It’s rare for Sae to willingly open social media, but here he is, scrolling through Oliver’s story. Your face is never in any of the pictures, but he can tell. You’re- 

His brain stutters to a halt. 

You’re wearing the necklace he bought you on a date with another man.

There’s only one picture left in Oliver’s stories from last night, but of course that demon would’ve saved the best for last. It’s a simple shot. You’re sitting outside somewhere, under the stars. His hand is holding yours from across the table, your arm stretched out towards him. It’s the only one with a sliver of your face in it, the edge of a sweet, tender smile. 

Sae doesn’t fight. He’s not the type. But over you? 

He fights the only way he knows how. Through football. 

When Sae calls you after practice, you fumble your phone so hard it drops out of your hands and into the sink. You had fun with Oliver last night, but deep down, you didn’t really think Sae would care, as much as you wanted him to. It’s just the way he is. 

By the time you fish your phone out, it’s making strange noises and unable to return Sae’s call. You don’t feel like going out today after your wild night - crying onto Aiku’s shoulder through mouthfuls of French fries - so you resolve to pick a new one up tomorrow. 

Sae will wait. He’s very patient. 

Sae shows up on your doorstep within thirty minutes of your denied call. He lives twenty minutes away, if he speeds. 

Now he’s sitting in your living room, drinking water from your favorite mug while you squirm uncomfortably. He, on the other hand, seems content to sit in silence. 

“You hung out with Aiku last night,” he says. 

Now that he’s actually in the room, you feel like you did something wrong. It’s insane how much influence Sae has over you. He hurt you, but retaliation somehow feels like getting caught with your hand in a cookie jar. 

“Yes,” you mumble. 

“Hm? Speak up.” 

“So what if I did?” 

Sae raises an eyebrow. “Nothing. I don’t mind who you hang out with.” 

“Fine,” you say. “Guess I’ll hang out with him again. Since you don’t care.” 

His mouth curls into a smile behind his mug. That motherfucker. It’s ticking you off. He’s so in control of himself, so smug and pleased and - 

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” 

“You know, since you care so much- huh?” 

“Do you want to start dating?” He rephrases patiently. 

You stammer for a bit before you’re able to reply coherently. “I thought you didn’t want to.” 

“Did I say that?” 

“Yes,” you hiss. “You made it very clear.” 

“I don’t remember saying that,” he says and sets his mug down. When he stands, terror rises in you. He’s coming over. He’s sitting back on his haunches in front of you on the couch, eye to eye. “I just said that we weren’t dating. But I’d like to.” 

“You only want me because I was with another man,” you say faintly. You’re trying to act cute, playful, but you’re not sure it’s working. There’s not enough blood going to your brain. 

“You want me to beg, don’t you?” 

You can’t deny how excited that makes you. Part of it is the way he says it, his voice slow and measured, deepening near the end. Part of it is just hearing ‘beg’ come out of Sae’s mouth. 

“Okay, then. You don’t like Wendy’s.” 

God, you hate men. Who cares about Wendy’s? Why do they always argue about this? Oliver and Sae both-

“You like the places we go. You like,” he tugs lightly on your necklace in a way that stops just shy of stinging. “The way I spoil you.” He pushes you back onto the couch and leans over you. “You like the way I know,” his nose brushes over the carotid artery in your neck, “what makes you feel good.” 

“So I can beg if you want me to.” He’s all in your space, filling it up. All you can smell and feel and see is Sae. You feel paralyzed by his eyes. Devoured whole. “I can get on my knees for you and let you put a leash around my neck and promise that you can have anything you want from me. But let’s not pretend that you want anyone else but me.” 

Okay. So maybe you do care about Wendy’s. 

“Aiku thinks he knows you,” Sae says, his voice calm and easy. It’s like he’s laying out a mathematical formula instead of confessing his love, but it’s so Sae. “He doesn’t. I know you.” 

You whimper. 

Sae laughs dryly. 

You don’t sleep in your own bed that night. Sae drives you both back to his apartment, insists on brushing your teeth for you with the toothbrush he bought for you, and does your skincare routine before he tucks you into bed. 

You’re half asleep when he says, “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” 

“Huh?” You mumble, facedown in his pillow. It smells like him. 

Sae leans over so he can kiss your forehead. When he whispers, it’s directly in your ear. “You think you tied me down, huh?” 

You’re wide awake now. “Obviously,” you snap back, annoyed that he’s still trying to play these games. You know he’s not indifferent to you, you just wish he would- 

“No, dear,” Sae says. The pet name sends chills down your spine. “I trapped you.”