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pixzstickz · 1 day ago

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'Capable of Love' | I.Sae

{syn.} idfk. my au

{wc.} 1079

a/n: I’ve been procrastinating on this for days and this took me 5 hours to write AND ITS SHITTY AF #kms

*not proofread*

Latest Soccer Headline:

Shidou Y/n, otherwise known as the sister of Japan U-20 player, Shidou Ryusei, put up an amazing game against USA with a 6-0 win, scoring all 6 points. This brings the Brazil team up into the championship against Japan.

“Once again, thee Y/n Shidou is cast in her brother’s shadow, even though she’s way more popular than him. I mean come on, our recent game had a packed out stadium, over 50 million watching online, and the majority of Brazil’s streets flooded. American journalists are getting too comfortable out here. ” Mai remarked, rolling her eyes.

It was usual for you to be known as Shidou's sister by western journalists and media, but in eastern and southern media you were your own person. Ryusei nowhere to be mentioned. You didn’t really mind much, at least people knew your name.

“Eh, it’s probably going to be taken down or edited because of backlash. You know how Brazilian’s don’t play about Y/n.” Daniela replied, tying her shoes.

You grab your water bottle, taking a sip reflecting over practice. It was like any other day. Drills, scrimmaging, running, and the reminder about a game next week. Not any game, Brazil U-20 vs Japan U-20 finals game. God, were you nervous. You swore that the Japan team had it out for you. Every game they would try to get you injured, whether it gets them a yellow or red card. You found it quite amusing and were honored in a way. Japan was also a high ranked team, so trying to get you unable to play was them saying, ‘You’re a threat.”.

Your phone dings pulling you out of your thoughts.

Ryu

I heard someone’s cumming to Japan next week

God ur gross

and sadly I am

Lighten up lil sis, your big bro is going to be there supporting you

plus Blue Lock and the U-20 team

We’re literally twins

and WHAT??

BLUE LOCK AND U-20?

Yurp, thee Itoshi Sae and the ENTIRETY of U-20 WILL be watching YOU (yes YOU) play next week front rom

anygays… gotta go call me when you get to Japan.

seen

“I hate that Zest demon with my entire being. What do you mean the U-20 guys are watching us next week and have front row seats.” You sighed, phone down and head in your hands.

Blue Lock watching you play was nothing. You saw tweets of them saying how good you were and watched interviews of them saying they were inspired by your skill and dedication to the sport. You had gotten quite close to some of the boys when you stayed in Japan last summer, having an older sister bond to most of them. On the other hand there was U-20.

“Yikes, do you still think they remember the incident?” Daniela asked while grabbing her bag.

“You mean the one with Y/n and Sae? The incident that caused the resurgence of our ‘101 reasons to quit soccer’? The incident we call ‘the incident which shall not be named’. The same incident which made us book the next flight back home because of the awkwardness? Of course they have to remember. And with us going pro in Japan there’s no escaping it” Mai points outs.

“Speaking of which, I have to add Vanessa’s name to that list. Can’t believe she’s still creating drama within our team by sleeping with Eliana’s boyfriend.” Daniela adds.

“You know what? It’s just whatever. Whatever happened or happens is whatever. It’s out of my hands. Let’s just drop it and go, I’m hungry anyways.” You ranted, grabbing your bag and walked towards the exit. The two looked at each other then got up and followed you without saying a word.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Maybe we should’ve got Japanese takeout instead of Chinese. We’re practically living there after next week.” Daniela asked with a mouthful of chow mein, laid out on the couch flipping through channels.

You peeped out of your door and gave her a stank face. “Wow, first world problems we’re having.”

“Right, it’s not like the rest of us are packing our life away and trying to find apartments for us to stay in.” Mai mumbled.

“Well I’m sorry I’m basically a professional soccer player and not a professional procrastinator. I mean come on, I told y’all to start packing a month ago. This is a big move.” Daniela scoffs with food in her mouth once again.

“Chew your food before you speak nasty!” You yell.

You go back to packing only to be interpreted by Daniela smacking her food obnoxiously loud. You groan, slamming your door, and laying down. You were moving. It was official 6 months ago, but you didn’t believe time would go by so quickly. You’ve lived in Brazil since you were born, you've promised Ryusei you’d stay for him, and now you’re leaving like it was just a country where your games take place. Hopefully he forgot about that.

You get up and open your closet, grabbing one of the shoeboxes from the previous summer. You cringe at the thought of the context in it knowing that pictures of you and Sae were in it. Nonetheless, you open it and rummage through it only to pick up a photobooth photo with Sae. The first picture was with you smiling and Sae giving a half smile, the second was Sae laying on your shoulder with you giving him bunny ears, the third was you laying on his shoulder with his hand tangled through your hair, and the last one was you both kissing. You sigh, throwing the photo back into the box only to realize that there’s writing on the back.

‘To Y/n, I enjoyed this summer with you. I wished you stayed here longer, but I ruined it. I’m sorry, that night should’ve never happened. I was drunk and dumb even though that’s not a valid excuse, I don’t expect for you to forgive me. I’ll miss you. I know I will. You made me feel like a normal person instead of a celebrity and I fucked it up. Please call me when you read this.

-Pretty Boy’

He used the nickname I gave him… and he told me to call him. Fuck.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

#sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae #sae x you #sae x y/n #sae x reader #shidou ryusei #blue lock x reader #what am i doing

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renren-006 · 9 hours ago

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Baby Girl | Joel Miller x fem reader!

plot: plot with implied smut

a/n: i’m sooo sorry, but good lord joel! also warning spoiler but Pedro singing in ep 6 literally made me crash out

The first time you saw Joel Miller was while you were working a job in the QZ. There he was, some 50-year-old man walking around like he had no mind to how attractive he was. You watched him walk down the street, unaware of your staring, or at least you thought so. You are young, not too young, but enough of an age difference between the two of you that you knew the way you were looking at him would normally be considered weird.

Joel had seen you long before he caught your eye. He often found himself looking for you as you walked around the QZ, his eyes tracing your body wherever you went. Tess would always make comments about his interest in younger women just to piss him off. Both of you ended up watching each other far more than ever talking—that was until one day Joel did.

You lost sight of him while he was walking, so you jogged a bit to find where he went. You stopped before the turn, realizing how weird you were following him.

“Ya know, if you're going to track me, you might want to get better at it,” Joel said from behind you. You stood still, like a statue, watching him walk around you to face each other. “Are you good there, baby girl?”

“Oh…uh… yeah,” you said, at a loss for words after the name call slipped from his mouth. He smiled, knowing he had got you where he wanted you.

“I’m Joel,” the Texan accent came out strong.

“I know,” you told him. “I…know a lot about you.”

“Oh, do you…well, it just so happened I know a lot about you too,” he told you, smirking and placing his hands on his hips. The move almost made you lose your mind. How he moved, smirked, and talked sent your body into a frenzy. Now tell me what business did you have to follow me to the back of the QZ?”

“Oh... I kinda just wanted to watch you. I really didn’t mean to look like a stalker,” you told him, arms up, trying to defend yourself from looking like a creep. You honestly had no intention of following him this far, but once you got your mind set on just watching Joel Miller, autopilot turned on. Joel kept his stance, smirking down at you. God, this man.

“good,” Joel said, moving closer to you, almost a breath away, before he reached for your hand and led you down the street. It was late in the QZ, so most people were heading off the roads as you walked back toward the other side of the QZ. Joel took your words from one of the apartment buildings, away from most of the military watch, up the stairs, and into his apartment. It was cozy, quiet, and smelled entirely of Joel. He watched as you looked around the place.

“Like it?” Joel asked from the kitchen.

“It seems like you,” you told him, turning back to face the kitchen. Joel was grabbing two glasses and setting out his whisky. He motioned for you to sit. "You do know if you keep me here, I won’t be able to head home before the lockdown.”

“was kinda hoping you wouldn’t go home” he said. he kept his face hung low before slowly peeking. glance up at you. you were shocked and a bit flustered.

“I guess…that’s fine,” you told him, taking the drink set out for you. The night slowly led to Joel getting bolder and bolder. First, with his hands on your thighs, then in your hair, and soon all over. He was a leader, never letting you help or do anything other than be in bliss underneath him. The man worshiped you as he pounded into you over and over. Waves of euphoria and pleasure were all you felt for the hours this man took to make you feel good. Never once did he want you to do any more than look good underneath you; he got his own pleasure out of watching you moan and wiggle under him. Joel put his thick Texan accent and calloused hands to good use on you, making the entire night more serious. To think you had been watching and crushing on him from afar to now being with him...you wondered how the end of the world turned out so good.

Morning came too fast, letting the light spill over the two of you, barely covered by his blankets. Joel was right; you didn’t go home that night, and it started a trend.

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #the last of us series #pedro pascal

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mwuaferrari · 15 hours ago

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ROOM 308 ୨ৎ chapter 4

lando norris x reader; franco colapinto x reader

sum: because sometimes, being almost his hurts more than not being his at all.

warnings/notes: SMUT!!!!; toxic relationships; lando being a fuckboy; fwb; english is not my native language. italics: conversations in spanish. JUST A FEW MORE CHAPTERS AND FRANCO APPEARS, I PROMISE.

(prev | next)

taglist: @htpssgavi @madkohi

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The return to Madrid was silent.

Helena kept glancing at you on the plane, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She knew you too well not to notice you were stuck in some kind of mental loop. The same one that replayed the images of room 308 over and over again like a poorly edited indie film.

As soon as you landed, you switched on “nothing happened” mode.

Messages with Lando: zero.

Instagram stories: happy, outings with friends, mirror selfies, Taylor Swift songs that no one else would understand.

You convinced yourself it was for the best. That it was just a moment. A beautiful mistake. A "what happens in Australia stays in Australia."

That you couldn’t get into something when you didn’t even know if he wanted it.

That if he wasn’t texting, it was because he had already moved on.

That Lily and Carlos were right.

You spent an entire week working hard to get him out of your head.

You went back to work and that helped distract you.

You went out with your friends to those classic Madrid party nights that lasted until sunrise.

Maybe Carlos was wrong and you were one of those people who could easily forget something like that, block out your feelings.

That’s what you thought.

Until one night, you opened your phone and found a new message.

Your heart stopped. Literally.

You looked at the message.

Read it again.

Ignored it.

For six minutes.

Until you replied.

And so began the second wave. Messages again. Late-night video calls. Voice notes with stifled laughter. But you weren’t the same anymore.

Every word from him made you doubt. Was it real? Or did he just want to sleep with you again? Maybe it was the second option. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted that too.

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A quiet corner, with hand-painted metal chairs and the smell of toasted bread. When you got to the place where you'd agreed to meet, Lily was already there, sitting at one of the tables looking at her phone.

—Heyyy —you said once you were beside her. She stood up and you shared a hug, two kisses on the cheeks, and both sat down facing each other.

You ordered coffee. She got a flat white. You, an americano. The waiter didn’t take long. For a while, you talked as if you were just simple friends with very separate lives. Flights. Weather. Shows. The excessiveness of your job. Things that didn’t really touch the real surface.

Until Lily tilted her head, set her cup down on the saucer, and said:

—And you? Everything okay?

The question was loaded. It had nothing to do with health, or your job, or the weather.

You brought the coffee to your lips, held it there for a few seconds, and then set it down without drinking.

—Yeah. I mean, yeah… —you said.

—Yeah?

You looked up. Her eyes were fixed on you. Not hard, not soft. Just attentive.

You sighed.

—I’m handling it —you said.

—Handling what? That he’s not texting you? That he is? That you don’t know if you should text him first?

—Lily…

—It’s an honest question.

You didn’t answer. You paid the bill and walked. The air was cool, but the sun made the shadows more intense. Lily’s flight was leaving tomorrow at 9 AM, so you invited her to stay at your apartment for the night.

You knew that meant taking the conversation to another level.

The doorman, don Miguel, greeted you from his desk. He closed his book and stood up.

—Miss, this was left for you a few hours ago.

He had a bouquet in his hands. Big. Wrapped in paper and a white linen ribbon.

It smelled from afar. A perfume of peonies, soft roses, and something else. Something you couldn’t name but pushed your heart to your stomach.

—From who…? —you asked, words hanging in the air.

—No name was left. But there is a card.

—Thanks… —you said, receiving it as if it were fragile.

—Someone’s courting you? —he joked, smiling.

You let out a nervous laugh. Lily just glanced at you from the side. She didn’t say anything, but frowned slightly.

You went up in the elevator without speaking. There was no need anymore.

Once inside the apartment, you placed the bouquet on the dining table. Lily stared at it openly.

—Aren’t you going to open the note?

You bit your lip. The little note was tied with a thin string. You slid it free.

"I know you’ve been struggling with your job. I can’t help you with that, but I hope this softens it —L"

You walked to the kitchen looking for the only decent vase you had, Lily followed you. You filled it with water and arranged the flowers carefully. The note stayed to the side.

—“L”?

—You know who it’s from, don’t be sarcastic —you said.

—So that’s what he’s doing now? Sweetening you up? What else has he sent you? —Lily said, leaning on your kitchen counter while reading the note more closely.

—Actually, this is the first thing he’s sent me. Look, we’ve been talking, a lot, like we used to before what-you-already-know happened. He tells me his stuff, I tell him mine. We video call, we laugh, we have a good time.

—And that’s it? —she asked, resting her elbows on the counter—. Just a good time between friends?

—Yeah. No… —you sighed—We’re not together, we don’t talk about “that”. We keep going like we’re… friends. Just that some things feel different.

—What things?

—The late night calls. How he listens when I’ve had a bad day at work. Or when things go badly on track and all he wants is to talk about anything but cars. Sometimes he texts me just to tell me something silly. Or to tell me what he dreamed that night.

Lily raised her eyebrows.

—Is that what friends do now?

—I don’t know. Or maybe friends who don’t know how to go back to just being that. But we’re not anything else either.

She went quiet for a moment. Then shrugged.

—As long as you’re okay with it.

—He’s not promising me anything, and I’m not expecting anything either. For now.

Lily nodded slowly.

The note stayed on the shelf, the bouquet in the vase, and the smell of flowers filled everything again. Outside, the evening started to fall over Madrid, and for a moment, you thought maybe everything was a little bit okay.

That night, when Lily was already lying down in the guest room and you in yours, the apartment was silent, except for the low hum of the city from the window. You sat on the edge of the bed with your phone in your hands.

You saw him typing. Then he stopped. Again. And again.

Until finally, his reply appeared.

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Saudi Arabia, Sunday, April 18

The paddock was its usual chaos: photographers, engineers, fans, everything in motion. But in the middle of it all, there he was. Lando. With the sun at his back, wearing joggers, a white t-shirt, and hair tousled from the cap he had just taken off. You recognized him immediately, and he recognized you.

He walked toward you in that way of his: distracted, a bit clumsy, with his hands in his pockets.

—I thought you weren't coming — he said.

—Neither did I. I couldn’t come friday and saturday because of work stuff, and I wasn’t going to come today either— you replied, honestly.

Lando smiled. A small one. The kind of gesture that hides more than it shows.

—So?

—Carlos insisted— you said, brushing it off. Even though you knew it wasn’t just because of Carlos.

—I owe him one then— he joked. And looked down a little — You look different.

—Different bad?

—No. More like… you. But Bahrain version.

—That means nothing— you laughed.

—Okay, well, I’m not a poet. I’m a driver.

You stood there for a moment, looking at each other.

The noise of the paddock went on, but the two of you seemed to be on a different frequency. Until you remembered you weren’t alone: you were surrounded by people and cameras alert to any situation. So you took your gaze off him and subtly stepped just a few inches away.

—Thanks for the flowers— you said, voice a little lower.

He nodded, searching your eyes.

—I didn’t know if it’d be weird if I sent them.

—It was weird,— you admitted— but it was also sweet.

—And this…?— he asked, gesturing subtly between the two of you— Is this weird too?

—I don’t know yet.

He took a deep breath.

—Wanna see the cars?— he said then— Or we can grab some water. Or… whatever you want.

—I think I’ll go find Carlos, say hi, and hang out with him before the race starts.

—Want me to come with you?

—No, I’m meeting Lily to go with her… but thanks.

—So we won’t see each other? Will you be in the Williams garage the whole time?—his voice had a soft way of pleading, like he hoped you’d say “no, I’ll stay with you and watch the race from McLaren’s garage.”

—Carlos was the one who invited me after all, Lando—you unconsciously reached for his hand and squeezed it for a few seconds, as if to give him some encouragement— But we can see each other later.

And you did see each other later.

The race didn’t end well for Lando, at least not the way he wanted or expected.

Since he crashed in Q3, everything had gone downhill. He started tenth, trying to save what he could with a different strategy, but the Safety Car never came. By the time he passed Hamilton, Leclerc was already too far ahead. He finished fourth, Piastri first. Another race where he was beaten by his teammate and main rival in competition.

When you found him later, he had already showered and was zipped up to the neck in his team suit. His hair was damp, and his eyes looked tired. He was leaning against a fence behind McLaren’s hospitality area, half-hidden from the rest of the paddock, like he wanted a break from everything.

—Hey— you said, approaching.

He looked up, and when he saw you, he gave a faint smile.

—Here to console me?

—Do you need it?

—Maybe a little.

You stepped next to him without saying more and stood quietly. A minute passed in silence. Then he spoke:

—It wasn’t enough. Again.

—It doesn’t always have to be.— you replied— But look, you’re still up there. It’s just one race.

—Yeah, but it hurt. I lost the lead. And it was my mistake in quali. I took it from myself.

You shrugged gently.

—Then you’ve got one more reason to win the next one.

He looked at you. That look of his that always seemed more honest when he was tired, when he wasn’t smiling for a camera.

—Got plans tonight?

You turned slightly, raised an eyebrow at him.

—Besides comforting a frustrated driver?

Lando smiled, more genuinely this time. He rubbed the back of his neck with a hand.

—I was thinking... Netflix and chill? you and me? ice cream for two? in my room? Unless you’re too busy with Carlos and your spanish friends.

You bit your lip, smiling despite yourself. He noticed. And looked down, like he was suddenly afraid he’d overstepped.

—Only if you want to. I’m not… pushing anything.

—I know— you said softly.

Then you moved a little closer.

—Okay. But only if you pick good ice cream.

—Cookies and cream?

You looked him up and down and squinted.

—Acceptable.

You knew you weren’t going to fix the world that night. But between a silly movie, some ice cream, and a look that said more than everything left unsaid… maybe you could fix yourselves a little.

You lay on top of his bed over the blanket, just a few inches separating your bodies, but still feeling the warmth coming off each other.

You picked a random movie on Netflix, and a few minutes in, you heard him sigh and turned to look at him.

—Are you okay?

—Yeah, just tired.

—I can go to my room, we can watch something another day, or maybe...

—No, stay, please. I want to spend time with you. It calms me down.

A genuine smile appeared on your lips, and then you patted your lap as a gesture for him to rest his head there. He didn’t think much of it and obeyed.

While watching the movie, at some point, you tried not to do it, but in that atmosphere of total trust and peace, your hand found its way to Lando’s hair, your fingers burying themselves in his curls. You heard him sigh in pleasure, so you kept going.

You stayed like that for several quiet minutes. But the mood changed when, on screen, the characters shared an intimate scene. You didn’t expect it, so your body tensed up, your fingers stopped moving, and you slowly pulled your hand away.

But he noticed. He looked up, found your hand, and put it back in his hair. And everything seemed normal. But he looked at you in a way that made every inch of your skin tingle.

—Are you okay?—his voice came out rough. You swallowed hard and nodded. He smiled and looked back at the screen.

You tried to calm down, you really did, but the scene unfolding in the movie only made your mind wander. You imagined if that were you and Lando right now—you truly imagined it.

The torture ended when the movie shifted to a calmer scene and you were able to relax again.

But then you felt Lando’s hand on your leg. You looked at him and he was still watching the movie like nothing, like it was something you did every day. He was doing it on purpose, you knew it.

Then you saw him grab the remote, pause the movie, and turn to look at you directly. There were no more distractions between you. Just him, you, and that suspended tension that seemed to breathe on its own.

—I don't want to pretend I don't feel this,— he says, his voice low, almost a whisper— Not when you're like this, here... with me.

He sits up slowly, still resting his head in your lap, but now his eyes rise to yours, studying you. Your fingers are still in his curls, though they tremble slightly now. He notices, takes your hand and kisses it, softly, as if he's giving you permission to feel.

—May I?— he asks simply, a mixture of respect and desire pulsing in his gaze.

You nod. You can't speak. You don't need to.

Lando slides up your body, with a slowness that quickens your pulse. His torso settles between your open legs instinctively. His lips seek yours as his hands explore your body.

He lowers himself back into the position between your legs as before and begins to undress you calmly, as if each piece of clothing were an obstacle he doesn't want to tear away, but rather reverently push aside.

When you're almost completely naked beneath him (just your top and bra) and his lips travel between your abdomen and your pelvis, you understand there's no turning back.

His mouth descends, and with a single gesture, he settles you more comfortably between the sheets, parting your legs securely. He watches you from below, his gaze fixed on yours as his tongue brushes your inner lips with a slowness that leaves you breathless.

A moan escapes your lips, a soft, almost involuntary one.

—Like that...— he whispers barely, and licks you again, deeper now, more deliberately.

His movements are slow, deliberate. There's no anxiety. It's as if he's testing you, studying you, memorizing your reactions. He caresses you with his mouth, with his fingers, with the labored breathing of someone on the edge of control.

Your hands return to his hair, buried in his curls, guiding him, wordlessly asking for more. He responds, with rhythm and commitment, until you can't help but tremble beneath his tongue.

You arch, gasp, feel him lick you faster, deeper. Then he stops for a second, looks at you, and without breaking eye contact, slides two fingers inside you with a smooth but firm motion.

You moan in surprise at the sudden intensity. At how your body breaks and rebuilds with each thrust of his fingers, with each lick that takes you from this world. Your orgasm comes with an uncontrollable shudder. Lando holds you tightly, continuing to taste you until your body collapses.

But he's not finished.

He sits up, his chest heaving, his lips wet. He undresses slowly, still looking at you. There's no shame in either of us. Only desire. Only trust. Only that feeling of having arrived at a place you didn't know you were looking for.

He settles between your legs and caresses your face.

—I'm going to do it slowly,— he warns you— because I want you to feel everything.

And when he enters you, he does so with a depth that steals your breath. His hips move rhythmically, slowly at first, as if dancing with you. Your bodies understand each other effortlessly. Every moan, every sigh, every word murmured against your neck.

—Watch me— he asks, and you do.

You look at him just as he accelerates, when his body slams into yours harder, with more hunger.

You come again, harder, more uncontrolled. And Lando lets himself go seconds later, his body trembling against yours, his breath ragged, his lips kissing your collarbone as if it were sacred.

He collapses beside you, not fully separating, his arm still around your waist. You don't say anything at first. You don't need to.

But then, he breaks the silence.

—Do you know what I thought while you were on top of me?— he asks softly.

You look at him, still panting.

—That you could be my safe place. And that scares me. But it also gives me peace.

You kiss him, without responding. Because sometimes the body speaks louder than any words.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #franco colapinto x female reader #franco colapinto x y/n #franco colapinto fic #franco colapinto x you

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