for-writing-shit

[for-writing-shit]

Fairness — JS

AUTHOR: once again @brennendeerinnerungen is my brainstorming buddy for this

SUMMARY: sometimes doing what’s right doesn’t make things better…

WARNINGS: none, angst

taglist: @leclercsinner @ithinkimokeei

song inspos: strange — celeste; I know what you did last summer — shawn mendes ft camila cabello; I love you, I’m sorry — gracie abrams

Flashback

“Bravo!” You hands reach for his shoulders as you try to pull him down to hug him. You can hear Jannik giggle in your ear as you cover his face with kisses.

“You know italian now?” He teases you while he pulls you closer, almost picking you up from the ground. You bite his cheek and then kiss it again.

“Solo per te,” (only for you) you say with a broken accent but it still makes him smile proud and it’s mere seconds before he kisses you, taking your breath away. You grin in between kisses while you cup his cheeks. Jannik’s arms are securely wrapped around your waist.

“I love you, champ,” you mumble and he smiles. Rotterdam is another great achievement for him and you can’t help but be proud of him. You know many more trophies are yet to come and every time you bring it up, he always chuckles and shakes his head saying that he will win them only if he keeps training hard. The two of you have been dating for a while now, next month being two years since you met him. And to think it took you a year to start dating.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he admits with a softness in his voice he only has for you. Your lips curve into another smile and your cheeks almost start hurting. Whilst the two of you stare into each other’s eyes, your thumbs caress his cheeks gently. Jannik takes ahold of one of them and kisses the back of it. It is rare to see Jannik this sweet for anyone but you. There’s a side he only shows to his closest one and you are lucky to be on that list.

“What happened here?” He furrows his brows once he notices the band aid around your finger. You pout reminiscing on your morning.

“Cut myself with a butter knife this morning,” you explain a bit ashamed since butter knives are not that sharp and he grins before pressing a soft kiss to it and making you smile again.

“Now it’s going to heal faster,” he mutters before kissing you again. It’s sweet and slow and you can feel the butterflies fill your stomach as always. It’s Darren the one who interrupts you two to tell Jannik the journalists are waiting for him in the press conference room. The redhead steals one last kiss from you before running away and you stand there smiling to yourself like a fool in love.

Present Day

“What do you mean two failed drug tests?” You ask confused and shocked. Jannik is sitting by the kitchen table, absorbed in his own trail of thoughts while the rest of the team, meaning Darren, Simone and Giacomo, discuss amongst them what might have happened.

“I don’t know how that could have happened,” Giacomo shakes his head in disbelief. No one knows how that substance entered his system and it is not looking good for Jannik. He keeps quiet, as always. Few times you have seen him lose his temper. Right now he looks simply in confusion. You walk up to him and lower down to look at him in the face.

“We’ll figure it out together, okay?” You try to lighten up his mood which is quite impossible considering his career is at stake. Jannik nods and takes ahold of your hand, kissing the back of it while remaining silent. There’s something in his eyes, something that doesn’t look like simple shock or anger. It’s more.

“What did they say was the name of the substance?” Darren asks once again.

“Clostebol,” he answers briefly. I don’t even know what that is or what it is for. Darren and Simone read through the papers and try to understand what might have gone down. No one in this room believes Jannik would ever do something like that, especially since the percentage of such substance is so low.

“It makes no sense. Who would—“

“I’m going to sleep, guys. Let’s talk about this tomorrow, yeah?” Jannik abruptly stands up and helps you back to your feet. The team nods and one by one they leave the apartment until you are left alone. Jannik hangs his head low and avoids eye contact. This must have taken a big toll on him. You take his hand lead him to your bedroom where he sits on the bed.

“Don’t worry. Things will work out, you did nothing wrong. I know you, Jan,” you try to reassure him and he nods, although he doesn’t seem too convinced. His hands circle your waist and he pulls you down in his lap. You cup his cheeks and look at him in his green eyes that don’t have their usual spark.

“I love you,” he finally mumbles after minutes of silence. You grin and brush your nose against his in a loving manner.

“And I love you,” you say back before kissing him. It’s sweet and slow and he keeps you close to his chest as if he feared you could slip out of his fingers. Jannik doesn’t pull away after a few chaste kiss, in fact, he deepens the kiss and you gasp when his teeth softly bite your bottom lip.

“Don’t leave me,” he mumbles in between kisses in a begging tone. It’s weird to see him so lost but you cannot really blame him. He’s been put in an awful situation and you can’t help but hold him tighter.

“I would never leave you, Jan. I’m right here,” you say caressing his cheeks. He nods and rests his forehead on your shoulder, sighing in distress. Your hand caresses the back of his neck, playing with his curls. You are positive you will find a way out of this together.

That’s how you fall asleep that night, holding him close to your chest and whispering reassuring words to soothe his anxiety and fear.

A few days go by, Jannik tries to distract himself with tennis and dates but you both can feel the weight of your ‘secret’. You never bring it up if he’s not the one to openly talk about it and when he does speak on it, you try to listen because there is not much you can say to help him get through this moment if not by just being present.

It is a random Tuesday when you go out to dinner with the rest of the team. The tournament in Montecarlo is about to start and I can only imagine the tension Jannik is experiencing. The restaurant is pretty cozy and thankfully we are seated far away from other people so we can relax and enjoy ourselves.

“I’ll have the steak, than you,” you smile politely at the waitress after giving her your order and she goes back to the kitchen.

“So? Excited for the tournament?” Giacomo asks Jannik who simply shrugs his shoulders and bites off a piece of bread.

“You’re kind of playing at home,” Darren chimes in. Montecarlo might not be his hometown but he’s been living here for years now.

“You’re still thinking about the tests?” Simone hits jackpot when you see Jannik nod and sigh. On court he doesn’t show it but you can see it in his eyes that it’s torturing him. You caress his thigh, showing him your support.

“I mean, it’s not her fault, how could she know?” Uh? you furrow your brows: her? Whom is he talking about? Giacomo’s relaxed face turns into a shocked and concerned expression. You glance at Jannik whose pale face has turned even whiter. What is going on?

“She doesn’t know?” Simone asks looking at you. You shake your head no. What should you know? Jannik stays quiet for a moment, almost ignoring that Simone has asked him a question.

“What are they talking about, Jan?” You insist. You thought you were a team but he has been holding back important information regarding his delicate situation.

“Y/N, it’s nothing,” he tries to brush it off but he knows you won’t back off easily. The rest of the team stays quiet and it is starting to annoy you. What is so secret that they cannot tell you?

“I want to know, Jan. What has happened?” You continue to fight this battle. Maybe it has do with his lost eyes and blue mood. There is something more to this story that he is not telling you and you want to know.

“Giacomo? Simone? Darren?” You look at them now. If Jannik is not going to tell you, then one of them will. You are part of the team, they have told you this multiple times but right now you are treated like an outsider. The three of them look at Jannik who seems to be intended on not saying anything.

“You used a cream with Clostebol in it and touched Jannik. That’s why he has resulted positive for doping twice,” Giacomo eventually speaks up and Jannik groans in annoyance. But you pay him no mind. What? You are the one at fault? You did this to him? You stay silent, looking at Giacomo as if another head had grown out of his neck. You cannot believe it. This must me a sick joke, a prank.

“Y/N…” Jannik tries to get your attention but you shake your head. Nonono, this is not true. You would never do this to him. When did that even happ— Oh. Suddenly you are back in Miami and you are applying this cream your doctor recommended for your cut on your finger. Shit. You did it. You actually did it.

“Y/N, please,” Jannik tries to get ahold of your hand but you take it off his leg and stand up abruptly. Everyone at the table stares at you.

“I’m sorry,” and with that you walk away and out of the restaurant. Suddenly you have lost your appetite. You start wandering around Montecarlo while Jannik runs after you. You genuinely cannot fathom the idea of having screwed up his career.

“Y/N, please. It’s not your fault, we—“

“It is though. It is my fault. I used that cream and I touched you. I fucked you up, I fucked up the most important thing in your life, Jan,” you say in shock. You will never be able to forgive yourself for this. Jannik sighs and tries to get you to stop but you are determined to walk around Montecarlo until your feet are begging for mercy, maybe this will calm you down eventually.

“No, you didn’t know! You didn’t do it on purpose. Please stop, let’s talk about it,” he catches up with you and tries to stop you but you are lost in your own trail of thoughts.

“How can you still want me after what I did?” You finally stop and he sighs.

“Because I love you and I know you didn’t do it to hurt me,” he explains easily but you don’t buy it. He is too blinded by his love for you to realize what happened.

“It’s going to be fine, Y/N. You told me that yourself, remember?” He tries to make you reason but right now you can’t. This is so messed up. Jannik takes your hand in his.

“That was before I knew what I had done. Did you tell them? Did you tell me it was me? You have to, Jan. Or they’ll think you did it on purpose,” you hope he did admit it was you and not him but he shakes his head.

“I can’t. When this thing will come out — and trust me it will come out— they will come after you and I cannot let that happen,” he is now the one sounding insane. What? He’s going to take the blame for something he didn’t even do and pay the price for it. I shake my head in disagreement.

“This is not fair, Jan! I am not letting you do this to yourself, tennis is the most important thing in your—“

“You are the most important thing in my life, Y/N. They can take my tennis away, my points, my trophies, but they cannot take you from me, I won’t let them,” he states firmly and you are a bit taken aback. He stares deep into your eyes, there is a fierceness and crudeness in his voice that you haven’t heard many times before. You remain silent, just staring at him. Jannik cups your cheeks and his eyes soften.

“I don’t want you to be put in this position, they will hurt you,” he mumbles and you cannot help but sigh. He is not wrong. You see why he is doing this and protecting you, it does not make it any fairer but you can understand his point of view because you would do the same if roles were reversed. You sigh in defiance and let him pull you into a hug.

“I just want you to be okay,” he mutters in your hair before holding you even tighter.

“I know,” and you do know and you do understand, but it does not make it right.

You don’t know for how long you stay there, standing and hugging each other like it is the last time you will be able to do so. You just know you relax to the sound of his heart beating and to the smell of his scent.

You remember that night you went back home and he made sweet love to you, as if afraid you could slip away any moment, as if afraid you might run out of time, as if afraid the world would catch up onto you and split you apart. You remember that night his kisses were deeper and sweeter. You remember that night he intertwined your fingers and asked you if you loved him over and over again. As if he lacked the confidence, as if he feared you might not. You remember that night he kissed your skin and your lips as if it might be the last time he had the chance to. You remember that night you both knew something was going to happen and change your lives forever.

Flash forward

“Tennis current World Number 1, Jannik Sinner, has failed two drug tests back in March 2024 and is now facing the risk of being suspended for over a year. The player has not been clear about the dynamics of his doping case and there are reasons to believe it might not be accidental,”

You bite your nails as you listen to the news. You all knew it would eventually come out, it has been four months since you received the news and you are surprised the press wasn’t informed earlier. Jannik is currently training whereas you are getting ready for work. It has been two long weeks, people are shocked by the news and everyone keeps asking questions as you predicted.

“Is it true?”

“Jannik, did you purposely dope?”

“Did you take it?”

“Jan, do you have anything to say?”

“Are you guilty?”

And there also came a horde of insults. Jannik pays them no mind, at least that’s what he tells you but you do. You do see them and you do feel your stomach and heart drop while reading the most unhinged and mean things ever. Sometimes you wonder how he does it, how he gets on with his life knowing there are people who absolutely hate his guts. You know he is in the right, you know you also shouldn’t read those comments but you can’t stop myself knowing that all of this happened because of you, because of something you did: not Jan, not Darren, not Simone, but you, his girlfriend. What was the likelihood of you infecting him? It is almost ironic.

He tries to bring it up as little as possible, only filling you in on the news of his upcoming trial but you still think about it all the time. It is a consuming thought that eats you up. You think about what you should have done differently, what you should have done better. You play out a hundred different scenarios where you make things right, where you don’t touch him, where he is okay and living his life like always.

But the truth is that you did ruin his career and there is no turning back now. Jannik would never put it this way but you would and you do. Jannik would actually scold you for even thinking this.

Your trail of thoughts is interrupted by your phone ding. It’s Jannik.

«taking you to dinner, be ready at 7pm»

You sigh and grin: he is doing his utmost to keep you happy and distracted even when he’s the one taking the blame. What have you done to deserve him?

“Good evening, bellissima,” he says once he sees you stepping outside your apartment. You giggle and spin to show him your whole outfit.

“Might as well skip dinner and immediately eat my dessert,” he says cheekily which is a side he only shows to few people. You blush and get in his car. He leans in to give you a kiss.

“Where are we going?” You ask as he starts driving.

“It’s a surprise,” he simply says and proceeds to ignore any question you ask about your destination. He drives for around twenty minutes before pulling up to a parking lot you know very well: it’s where you kiss for the first time. Jannik gets off his car and takes out a blanket.

“I wanted to take you out for dinner but I assumed we could use some alone time, so I opted for a picnic,” he says and lays the blanket on the hood of his car. Your smile only grows wider as he pulls out and lays down the food.

“You’re too sweet,” you look at him as he takes care of everything.

“Anything for you,” he sits down and you take a step closer and wrap your arms around his neck. Jannik smiles at you and pulls you closer by the hips, smoothly connecting his lips to yours. The kiss is slow and takes your breath away.

“Shall we eat?” He asks and you nod, still a few inches away from his face. He has prepared an excellent picnic and he tries his best to present the various curses with a stupid accent. You have forgotten the last time you have laughed so hard and so much.

“Did your dad make this?” You tease him as you take a bite of your chicken. He pouts and rolls his eyes at you jokingly.

“Stronza,” he murmurs but having been with him for over a year allows you to know a lot of Italian curse words, so you flip him off.

“It’s really good,” you compliment him for the umpteenth time. You sip on your red wine and watch the stars. And to think he had told you he wasn’t a big romantic when you first started seeing each other.

“Remember when we kissed the first time?” He asks you all of the sudden. You glance at him, biting your lip and nodding amused.

“I was so nervous because I was afraid you’d slap me,” he admits and you burst out laughing. He took his sweet time before kissing you, you feared he wasn’t that into you.

“And you went full in when you finally did,” you reminisce on the memory. He started off slowly and then you found yourselves messily making out on the hood of his car.

“You were the one to pull me closer,” he accuses you. He is not wrong: you did pull him closer by collar of his shirt and before you knew it he was sitting you on the car.

“I would have probably fucked you if you had asked me,” he says laughing embarrassing. You take your eyes off the stars and glance at him.

“Oh yeah?” You tease him and he nods grinning.

“What stopped you?”

“Public indecency?” He says matter-of-factly but you sit up.

“You wouldn’t fuck me now if I asked you, then?” You sit up to look at his face properly. Jannik licks his lips wet and shakes his head chuckling.

“Are you asking me to?” He says and you grin maliciously before standing back up. Jannik observes you attentively, trying to hide a smirk. You stand in front of him, then lean in and rest your hands on his legs.

“Would you do it?” You answer with another question. He chuckles. You are both playing a risky game. Jannik raises his hand and cups your chin to pull you closer.

“I would fuck you on court too if you asked me to,” he mumbles and you grin proudly before kissing him. You have never been a couple to have sex in risky places, but the idea is now appealing to you.

“I didn’t take you for a—“

His phone rings and interrupts the two of you. He sighs and pulls it out of his pocket but you can see the expression on his face change into a more concerned one.

“Mark?” He answers. Mark is his lawyer and he has been a part of your daily life for a while now ever since that doping scandal. You look at him trying to read his face and listen to his answers. Jannik looks at you but is focused on the conversation he is having. You take ahold of his free hand and kiss the back. This doesn’t look like good news.

“Up to two years?” Jannik can’t hide his surprise and so can’t you. Two year ban? What?

“You know I can’t,”

“That’s— fine, thanks,”

“See you tomorrow,”

The conversation ends pretty quickly and by the looks of it it wasn’t a good one. Jannik sighs and shakes his head. You know he doesn’t want you to see him like but you also know he cannot hide his true feelings on this matter. It is too important to him and it has been affecting his head.

“What did he say?” You finally ask both curious and concerned. This won’t be good but you are there for him. Jannik licks his lips and debates internally whether he should tell you or not.

“He said I am risking up to two years of disqualification. My story is not very convincing to the board,” he explains briefly. You sigh.

“Fuck,” that’s bad. Very bad. He is going to be disqualified for years and his reputation will be forever stained. Jannik looks down and shrugs his shoulders. He’s disappointed and hopeless. He has been like this for a while now and as much as he tries to hide it, it’s the truth.

“Jan, hey, look at me,” you mumble to gain back his attention. He glances at you, his eyes void now. You cup his cheeks and take in a deep breath.

“You need to tell them. You need to tell them the truth, this isn’t a game, Jan, this is your life, okay?” You try again but this time he sighs annoyed and pushes you gently away.

“I don’t need this now, Y/N,” he tries to avoid this conversation like he’s been doing for the past month.

“Actually you do and I won’t stop saying it. You have to tell them it was me, you are risking your whole career for my mistake, Jan,” you try to dissuade him from making a big mistake but he doesn’t want to hear it. He shakes his head. It’s like he can’t reason anymore. He used to be the more rational one out of the two of you but now he has been acting insane and unreasonable.

“And then what? Ruin your life? How is that even the better option? Do you not realize that this is going to stain your life forever?” He says looking at you as if you had grown a second head out of your neck.

“I don’t care! I am not a tennis player like you, what are they going to do? Side eye me on the street? So be it! I will live,” you raise your voice. This is getting ridiculous, he is being ridiculous and you won’t let him. Jannik scoffs.

“You think it’s about that? It’s about a bad look and a snarky comment? Have you seen what they are doing to me? It is not even about what they say to my face, it’s the online bullying. I don’t care about it, Y/N, I don’t even check my socials but you do. This would destroy you and I don’t want to let that happen,” Jannik makes a valid point that is, however, not enough. Just because they will come for you it doesn’t mean he should take the blame for something you did.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I do not care?” You insist.

“But I do! I love you and I don’t want to do anything that will put you in danger,” he almost screams out of frustration. You stay silent for a moment, looking at him. He stares right back at you. If they were to ask you when it all ended you would pinpoint this moment. When you found yourselves screaming at each other about a matter that will eventually break the two of you apart. Jannik looks at you and you can see his gaze soften as he comes back to his sense. The redhead loves you more than he thought he would ever be able to, more than tennis, more than life itself. It’s scary but it’s worth it if it means to have and hold you even for just one day.

“I can’t watch you throw your life away from me, Jannik,” you mumble, tearing up. Jannik gulps and shakes his head imperceptibly.

“I love you, Y/N…,” he says softly, his eyes filling with tears out of exhaustion.

“I love you too,” you murmur so silently he almost doesn’t hear you. Jannik takes your hand in his and pulls you closer gently. You let him.

“Don’t ever leave me, yeah?” He mumbles in your hair and you sigh, resting your head on his chest. You don’t know for how long you stay like this. Maybe days, maybe hours, maybe just minutes. Not enough or maybe for too long. Who knows? You just stand there holding onto each other while the rest around you slowly falls apart. You stare at the view over the city, reminiscing on the old memories you made right in this spot. Time flies when you don’t pay attention, doesn’t it?

If only your younger self knew how far you two would go together. When you went on that date years ago you expected it to be a one time thing. Jannik came from a different world and had a different life from you. But somehow all of that didn’t matter. It never really did. When the two of you were together, nothing mattered.

But not right now. As he holds you close as if afraid you might slip away, you can’t help but feel the burden of the situation on your shoulders, feel it between you two, feel it when you look at him. The burden of your mistake. They always say love is good but you can’t help but think that love has blinded Jannik from seeing the truth, the reality of things. Anyone else probably would feel so loved and appreciated but you feel responsible. Responsible for his bad choices and his blindness. Responsible for him.

You have to make it right. For you but, more importantly, for him. The love of your life.

“And you are?”

“Y/N Y/L/N, Jannik Sinner’s partner,”

“And, Miss Y/L/N, you confess to having indirectly contaminated Mr Sinner?”

“Yes, I do,”

“And do you have any evidence to sustain your cause?”

“Yes, I have the prescription from my doctor, the receipt of the payment and evidence of the cut on my finger from around that time,”

“Thank you for the clearance, you are free to go now, Ms Y/L/N,”

«Mystery Solved: Y/N Y/L/N to be the reason of Sinner’s failed doping tests,»

«When love turns into tragedy: Y/N Y/L/N and how she ruined Sinner’s career,»

«Love over Sport? Sinner’s case is being reviewed after recent updates,»

«10 times women ruined their men’s sporting lives,»

«Sabotage or accident? How Sinner’s girlfriend risked him a two year long ban from tennis,»

You knew what mess you were getting yourself in when you spoke up and, despite not being fond of the image depicted of you by the news, you do not regret one bit having taken full responsibility. It was the right thing to do.

You are currently sitting on the couch, staring at the door waiting for Jannik’s arrival. You wonder if he already knows, if he’s mad, if he’s desperate, if he’s sad. He definitely won’t take this news lightly or happily. You are shaken out of your thoughts when the door is abruptly opened and a fuming redhead makes his presence known. Jannik’s jaw is clenches and his green eyes are unrecognizable. He drops his bags to the floor.

“Che cazzo hai fatto?” (What the fuck did you do?) he yells at you. Few times he has been this angry with you but you expected him to be like this. You don’t plan on starting a fight but you know that’s what he is looking for.

“I asked you one fucking thing, Y/N. And you went and told the fucking world, are you happy? Did you see what they are already writing about you?” He continues to raise his voice. You stand up.

“I did what was right, Jannik. I did what you should have done but didn’t have the guts to. I saved you!” You raise your voice because you know sugarcoating the truth to him won’t make things any simpler. He fails to understand that this is the way things are supposed to be. He can’t seem to understand that, despite his love for you, he should not pay for your errors. And he won’t.

“You saved me? You didn’t save me. You ruined yourself for nothing. You think this will make things better? You think I’ll be happier playing knowing they are tearing you apart online? Tell me, Y/N, tell me how you think this will solve everything because I don’t understand,” he is desperately trying to find a way out, a solution, a fix to what he considers a mistake you shouldn’t have made. But you didn’t make a mistake. You shake your head and step closer despite his rage, he doesn’t scare you, he could never.

“I love you, Jannik. I really do. But what I did to you is unforgivable,” you explain murmuring, afraid your own voice might betray you. Jannik doesn’t seem to reason, he shakes his head in disbelief. It’s like fighting with a child who isn’t getting what he wants. Jannik’s eyes flicker behind you and stare at something. You sigh.

“You’re leaving?” His voice cracks and his brows furrow. He feels blindsided and he can’t be blamed. You gulp and look away.

“You’re leaving me, Y/N? You told me you would never do that!” He panics and tries to look at you in the eyes but you are too ashamed, too afraid to look back at him.

“It’s best for the both of us, this situation will eventually tear us apart and I want to remember what we had with a smile on my face. I don’t want to wake up one day knowing that you resent me or that I can’t live with this sense of guilt haunting me,” you try to explain but he simply shakes his head, shutting you out. Jannik takes a step away and you watch as he takes ahold of your suitcase and tries to open it.

“Jan, what are you doing? Please stop,” you try to stop him but he’s so focused and determined.

“Jan, please,” you beg him feeling the tears pricking your eyes. You don’t know if you can hold it all together.

“Jan…”

“No, Y/N. You can’t leave me, not you too, please no,” he sobs as he lets go of the luggage and looks up at you from the ground where he’s sitting. You let a couple tears roll down your cheeks and kneel down to be at his same level. You stare at each other crying and you can feel your heart crack right at that moment.

“Ti amo, per favore non andartene, non lasciarmi,” (I love you, please don’t walk away, don’t leave me) he mumbles, copious tears streaming down his cheeks. You look down at your lap. Is it right? Are you doing what’s right? You believe so. You cup his cheeks and find the courage to look at him in the eye.

“I love you too. But we can’t do this anymore,” you speak so lowly and tiredly you fear he might not hear you. Jannik takes ahold of your forearms and shakes his head, his eyes begging you to stay.

“Non ce la faccio senza di te, amore. Per favore,” (I can’t do this without you, love. Please.) he sobs and you can’t help but wonder where you are finding all this courage and strength to let him go. You have always thought he was the stronger, the more reasonable, the colder one out of the two of you. But now that you look at him like this you come to the conclusion that you have found his weakest spot: you. He doesn’t seem himself, crying, sobbing, begging, getting more desperate. This only shows you how much he cares about you but also how unreasonable he is being. You know your Jannik knows this is the right decision, you know your love story is bound to end one way or another after this. There is no happily ever after for you two.

“I love you,” you mumble against his lips. He kisses you so gently, you can taste both of your tears but neither of you cares enough. Jannik holds you close afraid you might suddenly disappear. His lips move against yours harmoniously. You have kissed him countless times but now you fully take in every detail, how his lips meet yours, how he pulls slightly away just to lean in again, how his hands cup your cheeks or hold your hips, how his tongue dances with yours. You know he is still crying but so are you. Your heart beats fast against your ribcage but you can only focus on his kisses.

“Ti amo, Y/N. Ti amerò per sempre. Promettimi che almeno un giorno tornerai da me, per favore. Mentimi un’ultima volta,” (I love you, Y/N. I will always love you. Please promise me one day you’ll come back to me. Lie to me one last time) he mumbles, his glassy eyes staring into mine deeply. I gently caress his cheeks, taking a mental picture of his beautiful face: his freckles, his nose, his lips, his green eyes, his curls.

And so I do. I lie to him one last time.

“I’ll come back to you, Jan,”

[for-writing-shit]

[ ᴊᴇꜱꜱ ᴍᴀʀɪᴀɴᴏ ] ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

summary: Luke doesn’t understand where Jess’s sudden motivation to do well in school is coming from TW: none note: i love him sm, but it’s a pretty short fic

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[for-writing-shit]

TREEHOUSE — JESS MARIANO

masterlist

pairing: jess mariano x reader

description: you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy jess’ flirty teasing. he’d be lying if he said that you didn’t make him uncharacteristically mushy.

warnings: swearing n fluff!!!, that’s all folks

author’s note: ok so i caved and started rewatching GG already — i had this idea and had to run with it! let me know what u think x

“Wow Y/N, we have got to stop bumping into each other like this!”

You looked up, rolling your eyes at the smirking boy before you as you placed down your book, “Oh yes,” you quipped sarcastically, “Such a shock to see you at your uncle’s diner that you live above and work at. Bonus points for you literally choosing to come over to my table, by the way. Usually you save our tantalising small talk for when I come to the counter for a drink.”

This only emboldened his smirk, and he glanced back to see Luke quirking his brow at his usual game — he always distracted himself from helping out by busying himself with talking to you.

In seconds he’d sat himself down in the empty chair opposite you, leaning on your closed book and staring so intently into your eyes you felt your heartbeat quicken immensely.

“What do you want, Mariano?”

“Ouch, last name?” he pouted, “And here I thought we were friends.”

Your heart was racing at how close to you he seemed to be, but his assertion of your supposed ‘friendship’ dulled this a little.

It infuriated you that he spent so much time flirting, and then every other moment acting like his having any romantic interest in you was a ridiculous suggestion.

“Friends, hm?”

In all the time he’d been loitering around, lending you books, stealing your books, making you coffee and all-round just finding any reason to be near you, Jess had never been certain his attraction to you was reciprocated either.

You’d started out shy, unsure of why the hell he seemed so struck with talking to you when he appeared so disdainful of everyone else in Stars Hollow.

And then you’d warmed to him, you’d opened up, you’d spent evenings as the only two people in Luke’s — just talking for hours on end — only to the next day seem distant again.

He’d tried to reassure himself that you did like him too, and that you were just shy, but something always stopped him from passing the boundaries of friendship beyond flirtatious remarks.

“Am I being relegated to an acquaintance?” he placed a hand over his heart and screwed up his face like he was going to cry, before relaxing it and smirking once more, “Or is your inquisitive tone your way of hinting at your undying love for me?”

“Shut up,” you shoved his arm gently, watching him feign a gasp, “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that right?”

Jess scooted his chair even closer to the table, “I totally thought that was your favourite quality of mine. My mistake!”

You didn’t reply for a moment, challenging him with eye contact and feeling your chest tighten at the way he seemed to match the intensity.

“What’re you doing tonight?”

This was new — he normally just hinted at caring what you were up to, nudged for you to give away whether you were seeing anyone, and danced around flirting just enough that he could deny it if you called him out on it.

You gestured to the book he’d made himself comfortable on, “A riveting night of draining your establishment of coffee ‘til you close, finishing this book and then probably either starting another or binging some shitty tv.”

It was only now that he looked at the book he was leaning on, clocking that it was Ham on Rye and he was the one who’d lent it to you when you’d expressed a desire to read more Bukowski.

“How’re you finding it?”

“Oh, and apparently starting the Jess and Y/N book club,” you teased, “Yeah, I’m enjoying. Thank you again for letting me borrow it.”

He smiled, “Anytime. Want me to leave you alone ‘til you’re done with it?”

You pondered his question for a moment. You didn’t want him to go anywhere, but weren’t quite sure if you should suppress your eagerness for his company.

“No, no,” you bit your lip, “Its alright. Does—,” you almost asked if Luke needed him, in the hopes that he’d say no and you could ask him if he wanted to get out of there. Almost.

“Does… what?”

“Nothing, never mind,” you shook your head, blushing crimson at how closely he watched your every move, “Its quiet in here tonight.”

He shrugged, “I was hoping you’d ask if I wanted to get out of here, because Luke definitely doesn’t need me when it’s this dead.”

You smirked, “Is this you asking me to get out of here?”

“Maybe.”

“Cool.”

“Cool?”

“Yes, Jess, cool. Let’s go somewhere else,” you grinned, pulling your book from beneath his elbow slowly and watching him roll his eyes at your teasing smile as you did so, “I was going to ask that. Didn’t want to seem too eager and boost your ego.”

He feigned insult again, “Ego? What ego?!”

He rose to his feet as you packed your book into your bag, gesturing that he was going to go and tell Luke he was leaving and quickly sauntering over to the counter, where you just about overheard Luke mumble, “Finally asked then?”

That made your stomach swarm with butterflies — this was really happening.

All this time, and things were finally progressing.

Jess briefly disappeared behind the counter, before re-emerging with his jacket and opening the door to the diner for you to lead the way out.

“Where’d ya wanna go?” you asked, your voice quiet as you suddenly felt anxious about being so close to him.

Your feelings for Jess had been growing steadily for so long now, bubbling under the surface, and now you finally had an inkling he actually liked you too you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

He shrugged again, looking down at his feet with his hands stuffed in his pockets as he ambled through Stars Hollow at your side.

“We can just walk,” you hummed, “Or we can go to mine. I’ve, uh, got a treehouse out back that my dad built when I was a kid. Or not if that’s a really fucking lame suggestion.”

He kicked a stone at his feet, “No, that sounds good. Totally lame. But good.”

That pleased you enough to elicit a small hum from your lips, and you found yourself walking a little closer to him as you led the way to your house, “Good. Follow me then.”

When you arrived at your house it was empty as ever — the reason you spent so much time at Luke’s was the rarity of company at your own home given your parents’ busy work lives.

You grabbed a few drinks from the fridge, some snacks from the cupboard, and then led the way out back to the treehouse, which was lit with fairy lights and adorned inside with band posters and shelves of books.

“I’ll give it to you, Y/N, it’s less lame than expected,” Jess nudged your side as you crawled in and slumped down on the mattress in the corner of the room, scoffing at him, “I feel honoured to have the Jess Mariano’s approval.”

“Should I feel privileged to be up here?” he licked his lips, eyes glancing over at the torn “NO BOYS ALLOWED” sign discarded at the edge of the tree house too, “Or does the sad state of the sign suggest I’m one of many exceptions?”

You rolled your eyes, “If you’re jealous that other boys may have been up here, you can just say that, Jess. But you should feel privileged because you’re the first. In fact, I can’t believe I didn’t even think twice about bringing you up here.”

He seemed to like that, his eyes glimmering as they darted between your lips and your eyes repeatedly while he found the words to respond.

“I’d say that means you like me, Y/N,” his voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke, and your close proximity left you shuddering as his breath fanned over your face, “Can’t say I blame you.”

His shit-eating grin made you roll your eyes for the millionth time tonight, “Here I was about to say maybe you were right. Thanks for snapping me out of it, shithead. I don’t like you nearly as much as you like yourself, huh.”

He just stared at you for a moment, eyes still twinkling and his breathing jagged.

“Funny, except I don’t think that’s true,” his head dipped to kiss you now, capturing your lips at first tentatively and then with increasing pressure as you kissed back.

He pulled back for a second, half smirking and half dazed, “Yep, I’d say you definitely like me.”

“Says the one who initiated the kiss,” you challenged, “And has been flirting with me incessantly since, like, the moment we met.”

He raised his eyebrow, “Oh is that so?”

“Are you denying it?”

“Oh no, I’ve definitely been flirting,” he licked his lips once more, desperate to kiss you again but trying to refrain for now, “It’s just funny that you’re only calling me out on it now.”

You gently shoved him and poked out your tongue, “I can kick you out of my treehouse whenever I want, you know.”

He only leaned closer again, “But you’re not gonna, are you?”

Jesus Christ you’d not been prepared for the palpitations in your chest right now. Your heart thrummed against your rib cage, drunk on the feelings that had only gotten stronger tonight.

“It’s your lucky day.”

You kissed him again, and the arm he wasn’t propped up on scooped around your waist to pull you closer and deepen the kiss, “Yeah, I guess it is.”

You stayed like this for god knows how long, joking around in between kisses and getting more and more comfortable in each other’s company, until he sat up abruptly and furrowed his brows.

“What’s wrong? Filled your kiss quota for the night and ready to leave or something?” you smiled, tongue in cheek, and he chuckled.

“Oh no, never. Just figured as much as I’d like to just kiss you, we should probably talk,” it was unlike Jess to look as nervous as he did right now.

In the time that had passed this evening, you’d grown comfortable enough to help him out a little here.

“I really like you, Jess.”

He wasn’t expecting that — you could tell from his wide eyes and open mouth, which he swiftly shut when he realised he was slack-jawed and silent.

He reached out to take your hand in his, fingers twiddling with yours, “You do? That’s, uh, good. ‘Cause I really like you too, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help the little joyous giggle that escaped your lips, and he couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him at the sound of it, “D’you want to stay over tonight? We can sleep in here?”

He kissed your nose, relaxing back into his reclined position again, “If you’re sure… I’d like that.”

“‘Mm, c’mon then,“ you cuddled in a little closer to him, suddenly overcome with tiredness from the evenings events, “…’m sleepy.”

He smiled, a broader smile than he was sure he’d ever smiled before, happy you were finally this close to him. He dipped his head to kiss your forehead, interlocking your hands as you got comfortable on his chest.

“G’night beautiful,” he whispered, and you could hear his heart thrumming in his chest. You couldn’t believe you’d found this side of Jess Mariano. And you weren’t going to get over that joy any time soon.

“Night Jess,” you hummed, already half asleep, “You better be here when I wake up.”

“Oh I will, Y/N, I’m not going anywhere.”

———

ahhHhHhh i hope you enjoyed this !!! please feel free to make some requests if you’d like, or just let me know what you think! i’ve been in such a writer’s block funk lately — but hopefully i’m back now!

here is my masterlist if you’d like to read more of my works!

[for-writing-shit]

movie night (jess mariano x gilmore reader) ♡.｡.:*

a/n: just letting you know before you read, i wrote this at like 10:30, i was super tired and i did not proofread 😭 i’m just trying to get this out tbh. also this is kinda just bc i may not be able to get out chapters 5 and 6 for iwmflyb this week. ik it’s not billy but maybe i’ll do something for him tmr wc: 1.4k

“rory! where’s my white sweater?” you yelled to your sister. you walked out of your room and ran downstairs to her room. “can i give it to you tomorrow?” she asked with puppy dog eyes, pouting. you folded your arms in her doorway. “why tomorrow?” you raised an eyebrow. “dean’s coming over tonight.” rory told you , getting up from her bed. “hm, okay. as soon as prince charming leaves, i’m stealing it back!” you sassed. rory stuck out her tongue at you in which you did right back.

then a knock was heard at the door. mom forgot to get luke to fix the doorbell, so everyone had to knock for now. “coming!” you yelled. you ran out of rory’s room to the door. you opened the door to reveal a slightly messy jess. “oh, hey.” you greeted. this was very random. “oh, hey back.” he teased. he welcomed himself into your home and walked to the kitchen. “wait why are you here?” you followed.

he took off his jacket and put it on the back of a chair. “i thought we were hanging out today?” he stated, confused. “no, you’re coming over tomorrow, silly.” you walked over to the fridge and took out a chocolate pudding. “dessert before dinner? naughty, naughty.” jess joked. “shh.” 

“your mom won’t mind right?” he questioned slightly nervously. 

“mind what?” you replied with a mouthful of pudding. rory came out of her room in a rush but stopped in her tracks seeing jess. “um. what’s he doing here?” rory folded her arms and tapped her foot. “hello to you too. i’m great, thanks. how are you?” jess spoke sarcastically. “you guys are bad hosts.”

you ignored jess and turned to rory. “jess forgot that he was coming over tomorrow instead of today, ror.” you explained. “you mind of we change it to today?” he wiggled his eyebrows. “no! dean is coming over today and i don’t want you to ruin it.” rory whined. “how would i ruin it?” he responded highly offended. “yeah, please tell us.” you quipped.

“by being… jess!” 

“now that’s a great answer if i’ve ever heard one.” you giggled. “i mean it though, dean doesn’t like him, he doesn’t like dean. you see the pattern?” she tried to convince you. “oh hush, you.” you silenced her, turning to face jess. “sure, you can stay. as long as you bring us the goods from Luke’s.” you ordered, standing taller. “i’ll go get them right now.” he winked.

rory rolled her eyes as soon as he left. you put your spoon in the sink. “why are you being so mean today? you’re friends with him!”

“okay, i’m sorry, but dean really doesn’t like him. i just don’t want him to ruin anything between us.” she confessed. “MOMMY! RORY’S HAVING BOY PROBLEMS!” you yelled very loudly. “shut up!” rory grinned, laughing. “NO IM NOT!” she yelled back upstairs.

the thudding of lorelai’s loud boots was heard as she ran into the living room. “spill it, sister.” she sat down excitedly. rory turned back to you. “he’s bringing Luke’s! i think it’s a pretty fair deal. and it’ll be like a double date!” you reasoned. “oooohhh. a double date!” lorelai’s eyes shone brightly like a cartoon character. “well fine, but what am i supposed to tell him? ‘oh, hi dean! do you mind if your least favorite person on earth joins us for our very romantic date tonight? thanks!’” she overdramatically acted out. 

“ooh, ooh, i’ll be dean!” lorelai turned her chair. she furrowed her brows and her voice changed to a deep tone. “oh no way, rory, i repeat, NO. WAY.” you giggled at your mother’s impression. 

“he doesn’t sound like that!” she tried to hide it, but rory couldn’t help grinning. “just don’t tell him.” you simply put. you nodded while rory scoffed. “whatever you say.” she walked back into her room. lorelai looked at you.

“she seems excited.”

the first knock of the night was heard at 7pm. “knock knock!” rory went running to the door hoping it was dean first. but she was disappointed as it was jess instead with a box. “food!” rory cheered, grabbing the box from him. “thanks.”

jess closed the door and stepped inside. you were spread on the couch with a soft blanket on top of you. he walked over to where you were and bent over to kiss your head. “someone looks cozy.” 

“i am.” you grinned. “what are we watching tonight?” he asked sitting on your feet. “Donna Reed!” rory yelled from the kitchen. jess rolled his eyes smiling. “that’s not a movie. this is supposed to be a movie night.”

“whatever. she still deserves to be seen.” you sat up and leaned onto jess’ shoulder. “dean says he’s gonna be here in five minutes.” rory announced walking into the living room with a bowl of popcorn. “ooh, ooh!! you should hide and scare him.” you giggled mischievously. 

“no, that’s a terrible idea. that’ll make it even worse for him.” rory sympathized. she wasn’t wrong, dean would probably get super mad. “fine.” you shrugged. it’s alright, there will always be next time!

the second knock of the night was heard a few minutes later to which rory got up to answer the door. “hi, dean.” she leaned up to kiss him. he walked in and gave her the tub of ice cream. “what flavor did you get?” you asked him, shouting. 

he chuckled and walked into the living room. “hey-“ he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw jess’ face staring back at him. he turned to rory. “wh- is this some kind of joke?” you could see the anger starting to rise.

“y/n wanted him over tonight. he said he’s going to behave.” rory soothed, handing you the ice cream and sitting down on the couch. his mouth formed a straight line when jess gave his little wave. 

dean walked over and sat next to rory with his arms crossed. you gasped. “neapolitan!” you cheered. jess grabbed a spoon from the table and dug in with you. “what are we gonna watch?” dean questioned, taking some popcorn. “donna reed.” you and rory answered simultaneously.

“what’s that?” he manspread on the couch. “i’m sorry, what? you’ve never seen it?” you exaggerated, putting a hand to your heart making jess grin. “that’s a sin.” rory gasped. “that’s a cruel statement.” you quipped.

“so it’s like a show?” he asked, smiling softly. he was slightly nervous with jess being here. part of him didn’t know how to act. “it’s more than a show. it’s a lifestyle!” rory boasted and turned to you. “it’s a religion.” you pointed with your spoon and a mouthful of ice cream. rory nodded with you.

“oh jeez, can you put it on already? i’m dying over here.” jess groaned dramatically. you stuck your tongue out at him and pressed play.

“bye dean!” you waved goodbye after watching a few episodes of the great donna reed. rory was quite upset, though. jess fell asleep on the couch while you guys were watching so you decided to leave him there for a few minutes to talk to rory privately. “how could he like that kind of stuff?” she whispered. “i think he just meant that the idea of a wife cooking for her husband is nice.” you reasoned.

“but i don’t think he understands the time period. what it was like for women at this time, you know?” she continued whispering. you nodded your head in understanding. you think she was being a little extra, but you kept that to yourself. “i’m tired i’m going to sleep.” rory kissed your cheek and walked to her room. “nighty night!” you whisper yelled.

you crawled onto jess and he shifted over slightly. “jess,” you shook him slightly. “wake up for a sec, babe.” you needed to quickly make sure he was allowed to sleepover without luke going into a frenzy before you could sleep comfortably.

you could hear him awakening from his slumber. “yeah, what’s up? you okay?” he sat up quickly. “i’m alright, are you able to sleepover?” you asked, rubbing his arm. he nodded and laid back down, bringing you with him. he stroked your hair as you covered yourself with the blanket. “goodnight!” you kissed his neck before snuggling into him. “goodnight y/n.” 

you sat up all of a sudden. “my sweater!” you whisper-yelled out. “huh??” jess hummed. “i need to get my sweater back from rory!” you got up and ran down the hall to her room, slamming her door open. jess chuckled to himself. “I WANT MY SWEATER BACK!”

[for-writing-shit]

—i can fix him (no really i can)

pairing: jess mariano x fem!doose!reader

summary: jess got into another fight and you're about to clean his wounds, but he has other plans, tired of always answering your questions

warnings: kissing, making out, sexual remarks, allusions to sex

note: this was so fun to write and my first jess mariano fic, so please be gentle guys!!

“you never fail to amaze me, jess mariano“ you huffed, arms crossed as your eyes fell on the boy sitting on the curb in front of the supermarket. shadows were casted over his cheeks and he looked less than happy to see you.

"it isn't what it looks like" he muttered, trying to avert his gaze, although that was kind of hard, considering the outfit you were wearing.

your brushed your skirt to the side, before you sat down beside him. "well, it looks like you got beaten up"

"you should see the other guy" jess chuckled.

you sighed, not amused by the joke, as you softly touched his cheek.

"ow!" jess pulled his head back, trying to free it from your hands, but you were relentless, turning his chin in all possible directions to get a good look at his injuries.

"we're gonna have to clean them if you don't want them to get infected"

"i don't care about that" jess shrugged and took out a cigarette from a pocket of his jacket.

"yeah, i know tough guy". you quickly snatched the cigarette from his mouth before he was able to light it. "but i do"

"what the fuck, y/n?" jess exclaimed annoyed.

you left his words unanswered as you stood up from the cold concrete and held a hand in his direction to help him up. "come on, now. we're not dating, because i care so little about you, are we?"

jess rolled his eyes, before he followed you, of course ignoring your helping hand in the process.

you laughed at his tough act as he sent you a dark look, not finding anything about this remotely funny. he knew that this was one of your usual tactics to get him to talk. you would act understanding and worried about his injuries before he would be caught in a room alone with you, with no way to escape, having to explain every little detail about the fight.

well, tonight he decided, you were going to be caught in a room with him.

a smug smile slipped onto jess' features as he followed you up the stairs. you turned around and pushed a finger against your mouth, before you took out your keys and unlocked the door.

"grandpa is sleeping" you muttered, opening the door wide enough for jess to walk through, but not wide enough to reach the creaking sound.

jess and you had met the year before at the supermarket, where you had watched him buy a ridiculous amount of industrial glue, while he was busy watching rory and dean talk.

you had guessed that he had been doing that to bother them and while rory was a friend of yours, you had to admit that it had been a little funny.

unbeknownst to you, jess had forgotten everything about rory, once his eyes fell on you behind the counter.

"are you working on the worlds longest scrapbook or are you just very passionate about glue?"

"huh?" jess had been so stunned by what you said that he lost his usual cool demeanor and found himself at a temporary loss for words. he couldn't remember a situation in which he had not been able to reply with a witty joke.

"want me to repeat that?" you asked amused as you pulled the last bottle of glue over the scanner.

"no-uh" he shook his head "i'm jess, luke's nephew"

"oh" you smiled, a sign of recognition in your eyes "that's you!"

"and you are?" he held the ten dollar note in your direction.

you took the money, taking out his change in the process. "i'm y/n, taylor doose's—"

you were interrupted when the aforementioned man stepped next to you, a frown on his face at the sight of jess. "i'm her grandfather" he finished for you. "and you're gonna stay far away from her, you hear me, mariano?" he pressed.

"grandpa!" you scolded and jess was surprised at the sudden shame that entered taylor doose's face. it seemed like he really gave a damn about your opinion, unlike he did with anyone else in this town.

"well, i'm gonna check on miss patty and her plums" taylor excused quickly and walked away, before you could question him further.

"please don't mind him" you told jess, amusement evident on your lips "i just got back and he's been a little on edge without me here"

"where have you been?" jess asked, intrigued to hear more about the mysterious and pretty girl in front of him.

"my dad's" you replied with an uneasy smile. he recognized the expression on your face, had he always worn it himself when someone had asked him about his parents.

he decided not to stir the pot any more. "well, i'll see you around, doose" jess said, took his glue and left you standing with only a faint goodbye from your lips.

jess' hands went to squeeze your waist, as you closed the door.

you were luckily able to suppress any sound at the sudden touch and you could jess' smirk in your neck.

"very funny, mariano" you whispered, freeing yourself from his grip and turning around to let him see the annoyed expression on your face.

his eyes glistened with happiness in the dark of the hallway, before his hand went behind your back, bringing you closer to him. "why don't we go to your room?" he whispered.

you had to admit that for a short, misguided, second the sweetness of his words was not far away from undermining you.

you shook your head, snapping out of whatever had gone through your head at his tempting suggestion. "nice try" you smiled sarcastically and jess sighed, letting go of you and following behind you to the bathroom.

jess was no stranger to your rejection, especially when your grandfather was home, but he was not finished trying to (respectfully) lead you into temptation.

"there are two options how we can do this" you spoke, your voice in a normal volume as soon as jess had closed the door.

before you could explain his options, he interrupted you, the smirk now basically right in your face when you turned up the light and looked at him. "want me to lock the door?"

"no" you dragged. "you know why? because we are not doing anything forbidden"

"forbidden, huh?" jess smiled "kinda like the sound of that"

"this is not a rom-com"

"oh no" jess shook his head, wearing a faked stoic expression "of course not. just two people doing non-forbidden things in the bathroom" he shrugged.

"it sounds wrong when you say it like that"

"what does it sound like?" he stepped closer to you, ready to touch your lips with his, as his eyes fell close, but you were quicker, swerving around him, before he was able to even touch you.

"nah-ah!" you scolded.

"what?" jess turned around, now crossing his arms like you had done earlier "i'm just trying to kiss my girlfriend"

"not happening" you shrugged. "so, as i was trying to tell you before: you have two options: first, the easy one: let me fix your face and we're done in no time"

"or?" he furrowed his brows, leaning against the wall.

"or" you repeated "the hard one" jess' smile got impossibly bigger and you rolled your eyes "ew, not like you think"

"fine" he sighed. "the easy one i guess, no need to tell me about your torture method"

"it's not a torture method, but thanks for thinking so poorly of me" you muttered, before you opened the drawer under the sink, taking out the first aid kink.

you climbed on top of the counter and motioned for jess to come closer and stand in between your legs.

"well, this is kind of suggestive, don't you think?" he pinched your waist. you just shook your head, taking his hand and laying it on top of your knee instead.

"keep your hands there, mister" you directed, before you grabbed a wet cotton pad and pushed up his chin, so you could gently take the unnecessary blood off his face. "for your own good, i hope that the other started throwing punches"

"of course" jess nodded, overly dutiful, before he hissed in pain as the cotton pad touched one of the scars on his nose.

"you should've thought about that before you got into an unnecessary fight, you know?" you commented, switching out the pad, before you continued cleaning the other side of his face.

"yeah, yeah" he averted his eyes, his gaze falling onto the hem of your skirt, his fingers were laying on top of. he softly raised the fabric, pushing his hands to rest on your bare thigh.

"jess" you sighed in a warning tone.

"what? it's itchy"

"it isn't" you rolled your eyes, but didn't discuss the topic further as you threw away the pad.

you tried reaching behind you to grab one of the plasters from the first aid kit, but jess was quicker, snatching the box away from you and holding it behind his back with one hand.

"wha—"

"give me a kiss first" he prompted, smirking.

"jess" you whined, not amused at his antics.

"just one kiss, come on babe"

you reluctantly nodded. jess stepped closer, taking your chin into his hand and pulling your face closer so your lips could meet his.

his lips were warm and firm against yours, his teasing grin fading as the kiss deepened. what was meant to be a quick peck quickly turned into something more. his hand, which had been holding the first aid kit out of reach, dropped it to the floor as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

you could feel the intensity growing between you two, the playful resistance dissolving into a surge of unexpected desire.

jess' other hand moved to the small of your back, guiding you even closer as the kiss became more urgent, more consuming.

when you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, he looked at you with a glint in his eye. "was that so hard?" he teased, his voice a little huskier than before.

"oh, shut up" you muttered, flustered and lips swollen as a cause of the intensity of the kiss. you gently shoved his face back. "now pick up the first aid kit you dropped"

"yes, ma'am"

you shook your head, laughing to yourself as you watched him reach for the box on the ground behind him. it had clattered open, revealing it's contents to the ground beneath it.

he threw everything back in the box before he picked it up and came back to the counter to stand in front of you.

you took a few plasters, opening them up to stick them to the cuts on his face. "you look cute" you commented as soon as you were finished.

"i'm not cute" jess exclaimed with a stoic expression.

"you're always cute" you shrugged, now being the one to take his chin into your hands. "especially when you tell me who you fought—"

he didn't even let you finish the sentence, before he pushed his lips against yours once more. even tough it was a clear tactic to avoid your questioning, you didn't mind it this time (not that you did before, but you had to at least act like it) pulling him closer by the neck and deepening the kiss.

jess moaned into your mouth, and your lips broke into a smile. his hands were now inching closer up your thighs and a soft laugh broke from your lips when you had to catch your breath.

"let's go to your room" jess muttered, lips skipping over your neck.

"grandpa is home" you reminded.

"grandpa is asleep" he pointed out, brows moving up and down suggestively.

"jess" you giggled, as he grabbed your waist, setting you down on the floor and taking your hand to leave the bathroom, before even waiting for an answer.

well, you weren't open to any more protests then, as he took you up to your room. the only thought in your head was to stay quiet.

opposite to the rest of the night, the next morning was straight hellfire, as neither you or jess had taken the time to set an alarm.

so taylor doose entered your room without the slightest thought and watched in horror as a half-naked jess mariano climbed out of your bedroom window and fell rather awkwardly on the ground in front of it. probably right into your grandpa's rose bushes.

"i think i might be having a heart attack"

[for-writing-shit]

Reader being jack’s sister and dating Jannik and having to see them both suffer

hi!!! i slightly tweaked your request--I decided to go with the reader being Jack's best friend instead--I hope it was alright with you 🫶🏼

The Inner Turmoil

wc: 5.1k

"Welcome to the US Open semifinal between Jack Draper and Jannik Sinner," the announcer's voice boomed through the packed stadium, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety in your chest. You had a secret that no one else knew: you were dating Jannik, the stoic Italian with a fiery passion for the sport, but you were also Jack's best friend, the young Brit with the world at his racket strings.

The tension was palpable as the two men faced off across the net, each one's muscles coiled like springs, ready to unleash their power. You sat in the stands, your heart torn between your loyalty to your friend and your love for your partner. The crowd roared as they began to warm up, sending a shiver down your spine. You had been to countless tennis matches, but none had ever felt this personal, this intense.

Jack's eyes flicked up to the stands and found yours, a brief flash of camaraderie in the sea of faces. You gave him a reassuring smile, but it felt forced. You knew he was feeling the weight of the moment too. Jannik, on the other hand, remained focused, his eyes never straying from the ball as he practiced his serves. His concentration was unbreakable, a testament to the dedication that had brought him to this pinnacle of the sport.

The match began, and with it, the storm of emotions inside you grew. Every grunt, every smash, every bead of sweat that rolled down their faces was a silent scream echoing in your ears. You watched as Jack's forehand sliced through the air, a blur of power and precision that you had seen a thousand times before on the practice courts. Yet, today, it felt different. Today was a declaration of war against someone you cared for deeply.

Jannik returned the serve with an ease that was almost unnerving, his movements fluid and calculated. His eyes remained locked on the ball, a silent battle raging within him that you knew only too well. The crowd erupted into a frenzy of applause, a symphony of cheers and claps that washed over the court like a tidal wave. You felt a strange mix of pride and pain as you watched him move with the grace of a panther, his body a finely tuned machine honed to perfection.

You knew Jack was entering the match without having dropped a set, a clear sign of his dominance throughout the tournament. Yet, as the first game progressed, it was Jannik who drew first blood, serving an ace that left Jack staggering. You couldn't help but flinch as the ball whizzed past Jack's outstretched arm. The crowd's applause was thunderous, but it was the quiet nod of respect between the two players that spoke volumes.

Jack's face grew tight with determination, and he began to play with an intensity that could have powered a thousand bulbs. His shots grew more robust, his movements more agile, as he gave everything he had to match Jannik's relentless onslaught. You watched, your knuckles white as you gripped the armrests of your seat, feeling every point as if it were a personal victory or loss.

The match was a dance of power and finesse, a ballet of sweat and grunts, each volley a silent conversation between the two men you knew so intimately. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the green expanse of the court, and the air grew thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint tang of rubber.

As the first set progressed, you could feel the shift in momentum, a subtle tug-of-war that played out in the grunts and paces of the players. Jannik's serve remained unyielding, a thunderous force that had the crowd on the edge of their seats. But Jack was not one to be outdone. He had a fire in his eyes, a burning desire to prove himself against his friend and rival. His returns grew sharper, his volleys more precise, each point a testament to his unyielding spirit.

The rally grew longer, the ball a yellow comet streaking back and forth across the net. You could almost hear the whip of the strings as they connected, a rhythmic symphony of leather and gut that grew faster and more intense with every stroke. The crowd was on their feet now, a collective gasp escaping as Jannik lunged for a return that seemed impossible. His racket met the ball at the perfect angle, sending it spiraling into Jack's corner.

Jack dove, his body a blur of motion and desperation. The world seemed to slow as he stretched out his arm, his fingers brushing the line. The crowd held their breath, waiting for the umpire's call. "Out!" The word cut through the tension like a knife, and you felt a pang of disappointment for Jack, but also a surge of admiration for Jannik's unrelenting skill.

Jannik won the set, his fist pumping in the air, a silent roar escaping his lips. You watched as the two players walked to the net, slapping their rackets together in a show of respect that seemed almost forced. They knew the gravity of this moment, the unspoken understanding that friendship would take a backseat to ambition for the next few hours.

You couldn't help but notice how unusually pale and sweaty Jack was as he took his seat at the changeover. His eyes searched the crowd for a familiar face, and when they landed on you, he offered a weak smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. You knew that look—it was the look of someone who had given everything and was wondering if it was enough. You gave him a nod, a silent promise that you believed in him, and his shoulders squared slightly as he took a deep breath and turned back to the court.

Jannik, on the other hand, was a picture of calm. He wiped his face with a towel, took a sip of water, and leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the horizon. You knew he was visualizing his next moves, planning his strategy for the second set. He had the upper hand, but he wasn't one to take his opponent lightly, especially not Jack.

\\\

As the players took their positions for the second set, the air was thick with anticipation. The setting sun painted the court in a warm, golden light that made the players' shadows stretch long across the lines. The ball was tossed, and the rally began anew, each point a battle that could swing the tide of the match.

You watched as Jack retched onto the court, his body trembling from exhaustion and the weight of the moment. The crowd fell silent, a collective gasp escaping their lips as they watched him try to mop it up with a towel, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Not soon after, you had to watch Jannik awkwardly land on his left wrist, the pain etched clearly across his face. It was a sight you never wanted to see, but you knew that in the cutthroat world of professional tennis, it was all too common.

The umpire called for a medical time out, and the silence in the stadium was deafening as physios rushed out to tend to both Jack and Jannik. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach as you watched them both struggle with their own private wars of pain and endurance. This wasn't just a match anymore—it was a test of their wills, a battle of bodies and minds.

Jack took a deep breath and nodded to the physio, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked up at you, his eyes searching for reassurance, and you gave him a thumbs up, trying to infuse him with strength from across the court. Jannik kept stretching his left wrist--his non-dominant hand, thankfully--his face a mask of stoicism despite the apparent discomfort.

The physios retreated, and the match resumed, the tension in the air thick enough to slice with a knife. The second set resumed, each player fighting against their own limitations, pushing through pain you knew all too well from the countless hours you'd spent with them both, listening to their stories of perseverance and sacrifice.

Jack's serve was slower, the effort etched in every line of his face. Yet, there was a grit to him, a determination that was unyielding. He wasn't going to let this match slip away without a fight. His shots, though not as powerful as before, were strategic, aiming for Jannik's weaker side, testing the Italian's endurance.

Jannik, on the other hand, played with a newfound caution, his injured wrist a silent specter hovering over every shot. You could see the calculation in his eyes as he sized up Jack's condition, trying to gauge how much his opponent had left in the tank. His movements were deliberate, each step and swing a chess move in a high-stakes game of attrition.

The second set dragged on, both players refusing to give an inch. The tension grew so intense you could almost feel the strings on their rackets vibrating in your own chest. The crowd's whispers grew into a murmur, each point a delicate balancing act that could topple the scales in either direction. The air was heavy with the scent of sweat and determination, the thwack of the ball a rhythmic heartbeat that echoed through the stadium.

Jack's face was a canvas of emotions: pain, anger, and a stubborn refusal to quit. His every move was a silent battle cry, a declaration that he wouldn't go down without a fight. You knew him better than most—his spirit was unbreakable, his will unyielding. Yet, as you watched him wipe his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of sweat and dirt, you couldn't help but worry. His breaths grew ragged, his steps less confident.

Jannik's eyes remained cold and focused, his body a study in discipline and control. The injury was a setback, but he wasn't going to let it define him. His groundstrokes remained sharp, his backhand a weapon that could slice through the tension. The crowd, once a thunderous symphony of cheers and jeers, had grown hushed, almost reverent. They knew they were witnessing something special, something more than just a tennis match.

The second set saw a series of nail-biting games, each one more intense than the last. The score was tight, a tug of war with no clear winner in sight. You found yourself leaning forward in your seat, your heart in your throat, as you watched the two men you cared about most push each other to their breaking points. The sun had fully set now, and the stadium lights bathed the court in a cool, electric glow that made every bead of sweat sparkle like a diamond.

Jack's serve had lost some of its earlier ferocity, but he compensated with precision, placing his shots with a newfound accuracy that tested Jannik's reflexes. The Italian, however, was not to be outdone. He dug deep, his eyes burning with a competitive fire that seemed to light up the night. Each point was a battle, each set a war, and the prize was a place in the finals of the US Open.

The crowd was on the edge of their seats, their collective breath held tight in their chests as the two gladiators of the tennis world clashed repeatedly. You felt a strange detachment, as if you were watching two parts of yourself fight for supremacy. Your heart ached for Jack's suffering, and your spirit soared with Jannik's successes. Yet, in the quiet moments between points, when their eyes met across the net, you saw something more than rivalry—a bond forged through shared passion and respect.

Jack's eyes grew distant, his mind a whirlwind of pain and fatigue. You knew he was trying to find that one thing to cling to, that one thought to keep him going. And then, in a flash of inspiration, he did. He thought of you, his best friend, his confidant, the one who had seen him at his worst and still believed in him. His gaze found you in the stands, and you could see the resolve harden in his expression.

The match continued, a back-and-forth of power and finesse, each player giving it their all. Jannik's wrist was clearly bothering him, but he played through the pain, his shots a little less forceful but just as deadly. The crowd, once a sea of divided loyalties, was now united in awe of the sheer grit on display. The thwack of the ball was punctuated by the occasional grunt, the only sound in the otherwise silent stadium.

Jack's body was a canvas of sweat, his eyes never leaving the ball as he anticipated Jannik's next move. Each time he scored, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a silent nod to you and the unwavering belief you had in him. You watched, your own heart racing, as he leaned over and whispered something to his coach, a newfound strategy forming in his mind.

Jannik eventually took the second set, his victory a silent shout of triumph in the face of adversity. The stadium erupted into a cacophony of cheers and applause, but you couldn't help feeling a twinge of sadness for Jack. His eyes searched for yours again, and the look of determination in them was unmistakable. He wasn't done yet.

\\\

As the players switched sides for the third set, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You knew what was coming—a final act of this epic showdown that would test the limits of their friendship and their bodies. The air was thick with the scent of burning desire and the metallic tang of effort.

Jack's serve was weaker than ever, but his volleys had a newfound precision that had the crowd murmuring in amazement. His legs, once a blur of motion, now moved with the deliberate grace of a ballet dancer, each step calculated to conserve energy. His eyes, though weary, held a fierce determination that mirrored Jannik's own.

The third set was a tug-of-war of the soul, each point a battle that could swing the match. You watched as Jannik's grip tightened on his racket, his teeth grinding with the effort of keeping his injured wrist steady. His serves were now a strategic dance of power and placement, each one a silent challenge to Jack's resilience.

Jack, on the other hand, was a picture of dogged persistence. His body language spoke volumes of the pain he was in, but his eyes never wavered. Every point he won was a victory not just for him, but for the friendship that had brought them here. The crowd was now a blur of faces, their cheers and gasps a symphony of anticipation and dread that played out in your heart.

The match stretched on, the scoreboard a silent judge that ticked away with each passing minute. The third set grew tighter, the points more intense, as Jannik and Jack pushed each other to the very brink of their abilities. You sat, your heart in your throat, as Jack stumbled but never fell, his spirit a roaring flame that seemed to grow with every challenge.

In the stands, you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders, the tension between your allegiances to your partner and your friend a palpable force. Each time the ball flew over the net, you felt your stomach drop, your nails digging into the armrest. You knew you had to stay strong, had to be there for both of them, no matter the outcome.

The third set grew into a marathon of wills, a test of endurance with even the most stoic fans leaning forward in their seats. The night grew cooler, the air thick with the scent of the city that never sleeps, a stark contrast to the serene battle being waged on the brightly lit court. You could see the beads of sweat rolling down their faces, the tremble in their legs as they sprinted back and forth.

You watched as Jack asked for a can of Coke, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. The umpire nodded, and a ball boy rushed to fetch it. As Jack took a sip, his eyes never leaving the court, you could see the gears turning in his mind. The third set was his chance to turn the tide, to show that he wasn't just a contender, but a champion in the making.

Jannik took his place at the baseline, his expression unreadable. He bounced the ball once, twice, then served. The ball soared through the air, a yellow streak that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity before it smacked against Jack's racket. The crowd held their breath as Jack sent it back, a shot so precise it was like he had drawn a line with a laser. The rally continued, each player pushing themselves to the edge of their physical and mental limits.

"Game, set, match, Sinner!" The umpire's voice rang out through the stadium, and you felt your heart drop like a lead weight. Jannik had won the third set, the match, and with it, a spot in the finals. The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and groans, but the sound was muffled by the rush of blood in your ears. You watched as Jannik dropped his racket and let out a roar of victory, his fists pumping the air as he took in the moment.

Jack, on the other hand, stood still, his shoulders slumped. The fight had drained from his eyes, leaving only a haunted look of defeat. He leaned over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. You knew he was hurting—not just from the loss, but from the sheer physical toll the match had taken on him.

As the players met at the net to shake hands, you felt a strange mix of pride and sadness. Jannik's eyes searched the crowd until they found yours, a look of both triumph and apology. You gave him a slight nod, understanding the price of victory. Jack's handshake was firm, his grip a silent testament to the respect he had for his good friend and rival.

The two men parted ways, Jannik jogging to his chair to celebrate with his team while Jack made his way to the locker room, his head down, lost in his own thoughts. You remained in your seat, the world around you a blur as you processed the emotional rollercoaster you had just witnessed. The applause felt distant, the flashing lights of cameras a stark reminder of the harsh reality of their careers.

You couldn't help but feel a sting of sadness for Jack. Despite his loss, he had given everything he had, pushing himself to the brink of collapse. His performance was nothing short of heroic, and you knew he would be back, stronger and more determined than ever. You made a mental note to be there for him, to listen to his woes and help him pick up the pieces.

But for now, you had to be there for Jannik. As he walked off the court, the roar of the crowd still ringing in your ears, you made your way down to the player's tunnel. The air was thick with the scent of victory and defeat, a potent mix that clung to your clothes and skin. You spotted his coach first, a look of relief and pride etched into his weathered features.

\\\

"Jannik played a hell of a match," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

His coach nodded, a proud smile crossing his face. "Yes, he did. And so did Jack."

You couldn't argue with that. The match had been a masterclass in grit and determination, a battle of wills that had left no room for anything but respect. You pushed through the crowd, the cacophony of voices and camera flashes a stark contrast to the quiet moments of camaraderie you'd shared with both players. Finally, you reached Jannik, who was signing autographs for the eager fans that lined the tunnel. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and he excused himself, making his way over.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with exhaustion. "I know it wasn't easy for you."

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the tornado of emotions inside you. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his sweat-soaked shirt, the tremble of his muscles. "You were both amazing," you whispered into his ear, trying to keep the tears at bay.

Jannik's grip tightened around you, his chest heaving with deep breaths. "Thank you for being here," he murmured. "For understanding."

You nodded, your heart aching for Jack, for the pain you knew he was feeling. But you also felt a swell of pride for Jannik, for the sheer force of will he had displayed on that court. The battle was over, but the war of emotions waged on in your chest.

As Jannik walked away to face the media, you made your way to the locker room, the air cool and heavy with the scent of sweat and determination. The silence was a stark contrast to the roar of the stadium just moments ago. You found Jack slumped on a bench, his head in his hands.

"You okay?" You asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Jack looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and tired, but his smile was genuine. "Could've been better, but I gave it all I had."

You sat down beside him, your hand resting gently on his back. "You played incredibly, Jack. I'm so proud of you."

Jack let out a sigh, his shoulders rising and falling with the weight of his exhaustion. "It just wasn't enough," he murmured, his voice hoarse from the effort. "Jannik… he's on a different level today."

You nodded, knowing the truth in his words. "But you gave him a run for his money," you said, trying to soothe his bruised ego. "You didn't make it easy for him."

Jack chuckled, a hollow sound that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I guess I didn't. Just wish I could've done more."

You leaned in closer, whispering, "You'll get another shot. I know you will."

Jack nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thanks," he murmured. "Means a lot, coming from you."

For a moment, the two of you sat in the quiet, the buzz of the stadium outside the locker room a distant memory. You could see the weariness in Jack's posture, the pain of his loss a palpable presence between you. You felt torn, a piece of you celebrating Jannik's victory and another mourning Jack's defeat.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked gently, breaking the silence.

Jack shook his head. "Not really. Just need some time to process it before I head back to the UK for the Davis Cup." He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling. "But thanks for being here. It means a lot."

You nodded, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "Of course. You know I've got your back, no matter what."

Jack offered a weak smile, the exhaustion etched on his face. "Yeah, I know. Thank you."

You both sat in silence for a while longer, the cacophony of the outside world a stark contrast to the quiet sanctum of the locker room. Finally, you stood up, gently squeezing his shoulder. "I'll give you some space. But you know where to find me if you need anything."

Jack nodded, his eyes a mix of gratitude and defeat. "I do. Thanks." He let out a chuckle, "go celebrate with him, yeah?" He nudged you gently, trying to lighten the mood. "He's your partner, after all."

You forced a smile, not wanting to leave Jack alone in his despair, but knowing Jannik would be waiting, eager to share his victory with you. As you exited the locker room, the hallway was a cacophony of reporters and staff, all vying for a piece of the victorious player. You pushed through the throng, feeling the sting of each flashbulb in your eyes, a stark reminder of the harsh reality that existed outside the bubble of the tennis court.

\\\

When you reached Jannik, his eyes lit up, a mix of adrenaline and relief. He enveloped you in a tight embrace, whispering into your ear, "Thank you for being here." His voice was hoarse from the roars and grunts of the match, his body still buzzing with the electricity of victory. You returned the embrace, feeling the heat of his skin, the rapid beat of his heart.

"You played an amazing match," you said, trying to balance the pride you felt with the sadness for Jack.

Jannik's eyes searched yours, reading the tumult of emotions. "It wasn't easy," he admitted, his voice gruff with fatigue. "But knowing you were there… it helped."

You nodded, the tension in your chest slowly unfurling. "I'm just sorry it had to be like this," you murmured, the weight of the match's outcome heavy between you.

Jannik leaned back, his gaze holding yours. "Me too," he said, his voice a soft rumble. "But that's the sport, isn't it? Sometimes, you win, sometimes you learn."

You nodded, understanding the unspoken words that lingered in the air. Your relationship with Jannik was a delicate dance, one that had to be carefully navigated around the minefield of their professional rivalry. You knew that Jack's loss was a win for your partner, but it was also a stark reminder of the toll their careers could take on their friendship.

"Come on," Jannik said, taking your hand. "Let's get out of here."

You followed him through the maze of corridors, the cacophony of the stadium fading behind you. His entourage trailed closely, eager to celebrate his victory and prepare him for the finals. You felt a pang of guilt as you watched him, knowing that his triumph came at the cost of Jack's pain.

\\\

Once in the quiet of his suite, Jannik let out a deep sigh, collapsing onto the couch. His eyes searched yours, looking for something to anchor him in the whirlwind of his emotions. You sat beside him, taking his hand in yours, feeling the warmth and the calluses from hours of practice.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice raw from the match. "It's never easy playing against friends."

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "You both gave everything out there."

Jannik leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "Jack…he's incredible," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "The way he fights, it's inspiring."

You squeezed his hand in silent agreement. "He's going to be okay," you assured him. "He'll bounce back."

Jannik nodded, his eyes still closed. "I know," he said. "He's a fighter, like you."

You couldn't help but smile at the comparison. You had always been the stable one, the rock they both leaned on. The one who knew when to push and when to pull back. The one who had seen them at their worst and still believed in them.

"And what about you?" You asked, your voice gentle. "How are you feeling?"

Jannik opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. "I'm okay," he said, but the tightness in his jaw belied his weariness. "It's just…seeing him out there, suffering…it was tough."

You stroked his thumb with your own, feeling the strength in his hand, the power that had won him the match. "But you had to play your best," you reminded him gently. "It's what you both do."

He nodded, his eyes drifting to the floor. "Yeah, but…I don't know." He took a deep breath. "It's weird, playing against someone you care about."

You leaned in closer, your voice a soothing balm. "You guys are more than just rivals. You're good friends, and that's what makes this so special."

Jannik looked up, his eyes searching yours. "It's hard, you know?" he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "To want to win so badly, but also to not want to see him hurt."

You nodded, your heart swelling with affection for both of them. "But that's what makes you both champions," you said, your voice steady. "Your ability to push through the pain and the love for the game, and still respect each other at the end of it all."

Jannik leaned into you, his head resting on your shoulder. "Thanks," he murmured. "Couldn't do it without you."

You wrapped an arm around him, holding him close. "You'll always have me," you assured him. "No matter what happens on the court."

The room was quiet, save for the distant echoes of the still-celebrating stadium. You could feel the tension in Jannik's body slowly dissipate, his muscles uncoiling as he melted into your embrace. "I know," he murmured, his voice muffled against your neck. "It just gets to me sometimes."

You kissed the top of his head, feeling the dampness of his hair against your lips. "You're human," you said, your voice soothing. "And that's what makes you so amazing to watch out there."

Jannik chuckled, the tension in his body slowly easing. He pulled back, a look of determination replacing the shadows in his eyes. "Alright," he said, taking a deep breath. "I've got one more to go."

You nodded, knowing he was referring to the final match of the US Open. "You've got this," you assured him, a smile playing on your lips. "Just one more step."

Jannik's eyes searched yours, looking for the strength he needed to push forward. "Yeah," he said, his voice firm. "One more step."

You both stood, the quiet moment of reflection overshadowed by the looming final match. The suite was suddenly alive with the sound of his team, discussing strategies and preparing for the celebration. The TV in the corner replayed the match highlights, and you watched the replay of their epic rallies, the fiery determination in Jack's eyes, and the unyielding focus in Jannik's.

Jannik's coach approached, a proud smile on his face. "You played an incredible match, son," he said, clapping him on the back. "The final is going to be tough, but I know you're ready."

Jannik nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with a quiet confidence that was both reassuring and a little intimidating.

You watched as he turned to face the room, his shoulders squared and his chin held high. The energy around him was electric, his team buzzing with excitement and anticipation. The final match was just three days away, and the gravity of the situation was not lost on you. You had seen Jannik's highs and lows, the hours of practice, the endless days of travel and sacrifice. This was it, the culmination of all his hard work, and you knew he was ready.

[for-writing-shit]

Reader and Jannik having opposite personalities and reader being insecure that he doesn’t like them

omg, i can't believe that we're getting very close to the end of the requests from jannik weekend 🥺😩

Just Be You

wc: 2.4k

Jannik is a force to be reckoned with on the tennis court, a whirlwind of power and precision that has earned him the admiration of many. Off the court, his personality is as vibrant and intense as his game. His laughter is a roaring fire that fills the room, and his passion for life is infectious.

You, on the other hand, are a quiet stream of thoughtfulness, preferring the solace of a good book to the chaos of the spotlight. You met Jannik through a mutual friend, who insisted you'd be perfect for each other.

The first time you saw him, your heart skipped a beat. He was all lean muscles and energy, a stark contrast to your slender frame and serene demeanor. As you talked, his eyes lit up with excitement at every little thing you said, making you feel like the most fascinating person in the world. Yet, there was something that crept at the back of your mind - the fear that he'd soon realize you weren't the exciting partner he needed.

Your dates were a whirlwind of adventure. He'd take you to the most happening spots, introduce you to his thrilling friends, and you'd smile, trying to keep up. Each time his hand would touch yours, sending an electric current through your body, you'd wonder if he felt the same jolts of excitement. You'd listen to his stories of triumph and defeat on the tennis courts, feeling your world expand with every word.

But, in the quiet moments, you'd catch him looking at you with an intensity that made your cheeks burn. It was as if he saw straight through to your soul, and you feared what he'd find there - the doubt, the inadequacy. You'd pull away, retreating into the safety of your own thoughts, only for him to gently bring you back with a soft smile or a question about your day. It was those moments that confused you the most.

One evening, after a particularly hectic day, you found yourself at his place, the two of you alone. His apartment was a testament to his life on the go, with trophies and sports gear scattered around the living room. The smell of his cologne, a blend of citrus and musk, filled the air, mingling with the scent of Italian takeout. You sat on the couch, your heart racing, as he approached you with a tired but genuine smile.

"You okay?" he asked, noticing the furrow in your brow.

You nodded, trying to push the insecurity aside. "Just tired," you lied, hoping it was a good enough excuse for your distant demeanor.

Jannik sat beside you, his athletic frame relaxing into the cushions. He studied you for a moment, the warmth of his gaze unwavering. "You know," he began, "you don't have to be like everyone else for me to like you."

You looked up, surprised by his perception. "What do you mean?"

Jannik leaned in, his hand finding yours. "I mean, you don't have to pretend to be outgoing or love the spotlight. I like you just the way you are."

You felt your chest tighten, the words a gentle balm to your weary heart. "But, what if I'm not enough?" you whispered, the insecurity bubbling to the surface.

Jannik's smile softened, his thumb brushing the back of your hand in a soothing motion. "You're more than enough. It's your calmness that grounds me, your quiet strength that intrigues me." He paused, his eyes searching yours. "You balance me out. Without you, my world would be all fire and no warmth."

You took a deep breath, letting his words wash over you like a gentle wave. The incessant voice in your head that whispered doubt grew quieter, the fear of not being enough slowly dissipating. You leaned into him, feeling the comfort of his embrace as you rested your head on his shoulder. The TV played a tennis match in the background, the rhythmic thwack of rackets punctuating the quiet conversation.

"I just don't want to hold you back," you murmured, eyes on the flickering screen.

Jannik chuckled, his grip on your hand tightening. "Hold me back? You're the one who keeps me from burning out. My life's a constant rush, and you…you're the peace in my storm."

You looked at him, the doubt in your eyes slowly giving way to understanding. His words were a gentle reminder that love didn't come in a one-size-fits-all package, that opposites didn't just attract; they complemented each other.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "You make me want to slow down, to appreciate the little moments. Like this," he said, gesturing around the room with his free hand. "A quiet night in with someone who gets me."

You felt the weight of his words, the truth resonating deep within you. It was in the stillness that you found comfort, the spaces between the noise where you indeed saw each other. You looked at him, the intensity of his gaze making your heart flutter.

"But what if I can't keep up with your world?" you asked, the question lingering in the air like the scent of the rain outside.

Jannik turned to you, his eyes filled with sincerity. "You already do. You challenge me in ways no one else does, and that's what I love about us." His hand moved to your cheek, cupping it gently. "You make me question, you make me think, and you make me want to be a better person."

The rain outside grew heavier, the sound of it against the windows creating a soothing lullaby. You took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scents of the takeout and his cologne. The warmth of his hand on your face was a stark contrast to the coolness of your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"But, what about when you're traveling, playing in those big matches?" you said, the question lingering in the air. "Won't you miss having someone who can share that excitement with you?"

Jannik's eyes searched yours, understanding dawning. "I'll miss you," he admitted, "but it's not about having someone to share the spotlight with. It's about having you to come home to, someone who knows me beyond the tennis player." His voice was low, earnest. "When I'm out there, playing in front of thousands, all I can think about is coming back to you, to this." He motioned around the room, the chaos of his life made cozy by your presence.

You swallowed hard, his words resonating within you. "I'm just not sure how to be that person," you confessed, the insecurity resurfacing. "How do I fit into your world without losing myself?"

Jannik's smile grew softer. "You already fit. You just need to let go of the idea that you have to be like them." He nodded towards the TV, where the tennis players were locked in an intense rally. "You're my sanctuary, the person I can be myself around. You don't have to be loud or flashy. Just be you."

You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his hand on your cheek. The rain grew louder, a cocoon of sound around you. "Okay," you whispered, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "I'll try."

Jannik leaned in and kissed you gently, his lips lingering on yours as if to seal the promise you'd just made. The kiss was filled with the same intensity you felt in his gaze, yet it was soft and comforting, a reminder that he saw you, all of you.

The weeks that followed brought a newfound ease to your relationship. You attended a few of his matches, watching from the sidelines as his racket sang against the ball, his focus unwavering. You weren't a part of the cheering crowd, but you were there, a silent presence that grounded him. He'd catch your eye between games, and you'd give him a small nod, a silent cheer of your own.

On the days he was home, you'd explore the quiet corners of the city together, finding joy in the simple things. He'd share stories from his travels, and you'd listen intently, offering insights from the books you'd read. You found that you didn't need to be loud to be heard, that your soft voice carried just as much weight in his world of noise.

One evening, as you walked hand in hand through a bustling street fair, the neon lights reflected off the puddles from the recent rain. The smell of fried dough and cotton candy filled the air, and the sound of laughter and music melded into a harmonious symphony. Jannik stopped at a carousel, watching the colorful horses bob up and down to the tune of an old Italian folk song.

"Remember when we first met?" he said, his voice a little louder to be heard over the din. "I knew you were different."

You looked at him, surprised. "Different? How?"

He smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You didn't fawn over me or my tennis career. You talked about the book you were reading, and how the rain makes you feel alive."

You laughed, remembering the awkwardness of that first conversation. "I didn't know what to say," you admitted, feeling your cheeks warm with a blush.

"And that," Jannik said, pointing a finger at you, "is what made me want to know you more. You weren't like the others."

You felt a swell of warmth in your chest, his words a balm to your insecurities. "I guess I just didn't want to seem boring," you said with a slight shrug.

"Boring?" Jannik's laugh echoed through the night air. "You could never be boring to me. It's your uniqueness that makes you interesting, that makes us work."

You looked at him, his smile lighting up the damp street. It was in that moment, surrounded by the cacophony of the fair, that you honestly believed him. You weren't a burden or a liability in his fast-paced life; you were his haven.

The ferris wheel loomed over the street fair, its lights blinking a silent invitation. Jannik's eyes lit up with excitement, and before you could protest, he'd already bought two tickets. As the metal cage lifted you into the air, your stomach lurched with a mix of fear and exhilaration. You weren't one for heights or the chaotic spin of carnival rides, but the thrill in his eyes was contagious.

As the wheel reached its peak, the wind whipped through your hair, carrying with it the scent of the rain-soaked earth. The city lights twinkled like stars below, and for a brief moment, you forgot about your fears and the weight of the world. Jannik's hand found yours again, his grip firm and reassuring. "Look," he said, pointing out to the horizon where the city met the night sky.

You followed his gaze, the sight taking your breath away. "It's beautiful," you murmured, feeling a sense of awe that mirrored the first time you'd watched him play.

"It's nothing compared to you," Jannik replied, turning to face you, his eyes full of affection.

Your cheeks grew warmer, and you looked away, trying to hide your smile. The ferris wheel reached the top again, and the world spun beneath you, a blur of lights and sounds. You felt Jannik's hand squeeze yours reassuringly, and you squeezed back, finding comfort in his touch.

"You know," he said, his voice barely audible over the whir of the machinery, "I thought you'd hate this. But here we are, and you're still smiling."

You looked back at him, the wind playing with your hair, and laughed. "It's not so bad when I've got you to hold onto."

Jannik leaned in, his eyes searching yours. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't enough," he said, his voice earnest. "I just want you to know that you are. More than enough."

You felt a lump form in your throat, the wind carrying away the last of your doubt. "I'm sorry too," you whispered, your eyes misting up. "For not trusting that you could love someone like me."

Jannik pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as the ferris wheel descended. "You don't need to apologize," he said, his voice as gentle as the evening breeze. "We all have our fears. It's what we do with them that matters."

As the ride came to an end, you stepped off, the ground feeling firm beneath your feet once again. Jannik took your hand and led you through the fair, the sound of your laughter mingling with the carousel music. You felt lighter, as if a heavy burden had been lifted.

At a quiet booth, you found refuge from the chaos. Jannik bought you a cup of hot chocolate, the warmth spreading through your cold hands as you held it. You watched as he devoured a stick of cotton candy, his eyes sparkling with the same delight as a child's. It was moments like these that made you realize how much you enjoyed the little things with him, the moments that didn't require grand gestures or loud proclamations.

"You got a little something there, Jan," you said with a smile, pointing to the smudge of pink sugar on his cheek.

He feigned ignorance, his teeth gleaming as he took another bite of the spun sugar. "What?" he asked, his eyes wide with innocence.

You leaned in, brushing the sticky residue away with your thumb. The intimacy of the gesture was not lost on either of you, and his cheeks flushed a shade darker than the cotton candy. "Got it," you said, popping the sugar from your thumb into your mouth.

Jannik's eyes searched yours for a beat longer than necessary, a silent conversation passing between you. It was in these moments, the mundane and the sweet, that you felt most connected to him. His world was full of flashing lights and grand gestures, but here, in the quiet booth, it was just the two of you, sharing a simple pleasure.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and shared smiles. As you watched him win a stuffed animal at a ring toss game, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. He handed it to you with a flourish, his eyes gleaming with victory. It was a reminder of the tenderness that lay beneath his competitive exterior.

Walking home, the air was cool and damp, the rain having given way to a soft drizzle. The streetlights cast a warm glow on the wet cobblestone streets, and you felt a sense of belonging as you strolled beside him, his arm around your shoulders. His touch was familiar now, comforting in a way that made you feel seen and understood.

[for-writing-shit]

cheer up, carlitos!!

[for-writing-shit]

Shut Up — js

AUTHOR: this one is for @jannikwpasta <3

WARNINGS: smut

“Y/N, drop it,” Jannik wasn’t planning on showing up to New York and immediately getting himself in a fight with his coach’s daughter. He wasn’t one to pick up fights with people but you, for some reason, always managed to get the worst out of him.

“Drop it? Okay. We’ll just tell him you started using drugs, that’s totally fine, Jannik,” you sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. Jannik rolled his eyes and started unpacking his bag. He was supposed to be on court in fifteen minutes.

“Yea sure,” he tries to end this nonsensical conversation. But you weren’t one to back away easily, well at least not with Jannik. The red head wasn’t facing you as he took his clothes from his bag.

“You can be such a dick, you know that?” You continued, staring at his back. You watched as he sighed and ignored you again.

“Anna probably would agree with me…” that was a low blow. Even for you. You watched as Jannik stopped in his tracks and stilled for a moment. He then proceeded to turn around and stare at you.

“Che cazzo hai detto?” (What the fuck did you just say?) he uttered staring you down. Anna was still a sensitive topic for him, having broken up around June.

“Now you can hear me? Fuck off,” you flipped him off and turned around to leave the room. But before you could even think about it, a hand got ahold of your wrist and pulled you back. You almost lost your balance and held onto Jannik’s arms.

“Chi cazzo ti pensi di essere, uh? Solo perché Darren è tuo padre non vuol dire che non ti—“ (who the fuck do you think you are, uh? Just cause Darren is your dad it doesn’t mean that I can’t—) Jannik stopped himself mid sentence and clenched his jaw. You were now the one tilting your head to the side and raising your eyebrows, inciting him to continue.

“Nono, finish what you were saying. C’mon,” you glared at him. His curls fell messily over his forehead and his green eyes had never looked darker. You two had always had a rocky relationship but lately it had become worse.

“Or are you too scared? That I’ll tell my dad? Is that so? You’re scared big ol’ Darren will—“

“Stai zitta o ti azzittisco io,” (shut up or I’ll make you) he mumbled through gritted teeth. You gripped his arms even harder, almost hoping to leave him with marks.

“Oh yea? Think you would be able? You? Do you even know how to?” You mocked him. Jannik swiftly let go of your wrist and pushed you up against the wall, his hand finding place around your neck. Not choking you but simply tilting your head back and forcing you to look up at him. Your breath hitched in your throat and goosebumps covered your skin. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip as he studied your face.

“Vediamo se con qualcosa in bocca impari a stare zitta…” (let’s see if with something in your mouth you’ll learn how to shut up)

It took you an embarrassingly little time to get undressed and find yourself on top of him. Jannik’s fingers skillfully stripped you of your underwear and bra. His mouth was everywhere and anywhere: below your ear, on yours, on your neck, between your breasts. And all you could do was moan as silently as possible and mentally begging him to give you more.

“Che c’è? Non parli più? Come pensavo…” (what is it? You don’t have anything to say anymore? As I thought…) Jannik teased you as he guided your hips on top of his. You mewled in his ear, biting your lip. It felt good. Too good. It felt too good to be fucking him out of everyone.

“Guardati: ti sta piacendo, non è vero? Dimmi cosa vuoi,” (look at yourself: you like this, don’t you? Tell me what you want) he muttered against your parted lips. You tried to stay silent, but then his fingers dug in your hips and the pain mixed with the pleasure.

“Fuck me… Harder,” you mumbled out, your head hiding in the crook of his neck.

“Sapevo che ti piaceva più forte,” (I knew it you liked it harder)

It didn’t take him much to flip the two of you around. He pulled you back so that your hips stayed up and before you could say anything he pushed inside. You gasped for air, the feeling making your fists clench. Jannik chuckled and started off immediately harder but slower. You furrowed your brows and arched your back, hoping to feel more of him.

“Mi piace quando stai zitta, anzi, mi piace quando non riesci a parlare perché ti piace come ti sto scopando,” (I like it when you are quiet, in fact, I like it when you can’t even speak because you love the way I am fucking you) Jannik grunted as he watched his cock disappear in your folds. You whined, wanting to talk back but only able to talk through syllables and moans.

“Fuck… Please,” you could feel yourself teetering over the edge. Jannik bit his bottom lip and leaned forward, his face now resting next yours as his thrusts got deeper.

“Dimmi che ti piace o non ti faccio venire,” (tell me you like it or I won’t let you cum) he mumbled with a sick smirk. You rolled your eyes annoyed and tried to swallow your pride.

“Say it,” he muttered again, this time going harder and making you yelp.

“I like it! I love it, Jan, please…” you whined and felt your legs ready to give out. The Italian bit your shoulder as he made it his mission to make you come undone before him. Your moans rolled off your tongue uncontrollably and you fisted the sheets of his bed afraid of falling.

“Cazzo,” Jannik cursed as he felt you clench around him, pushed over the top. He followed right after, gripping your hips and probably leaving marks. The two of you collapsed on the bed right after, your face still pressed on the sheets. Jannik looked at you with his usual shit eating grin.

“Allora? Lo so fare o no?” (So? Do I know how to do it or not?)

[for-writing-shit]

risking it all.  ( tom branson x reader )

gif belongs to me

The party was lively when you sneaked out, your shoulders slouching in relaxation a little as you slipped off your heels, making your way quietly to the front door. After stepping into your heels, you headed to the garage where you found Tom polishing the car. Your father and his associate would be travelling to town in the morning, and Tom always went over the car with the utmost precision and care.

You tapped your knuckles on the wooden door and he looked over his shoulder, lips parting when he saw you standing in your formal dress. You smiled softly at his reaction as he placed the cloth on the hood of the car as he approached you.

Keep reading

[for-writing-shit]

I don’t hate you anymore — JS

warnings: none

for @jannikwpasta and @ithinkimokeei that are currently going through it

@christianpulisic10

“You left at 4am? Are you crazy? What did he say?” Nyla and Carlos are staring at me bewildered. I press my lips together and show them my phone. The two of them read the chat attentively and I try to ignoring their disapproving looks.

“«Please Y/N, don’t leave me like this. Talk to me» Girl, you need help. The man is clearly begging you to stay and what do you do? You sneak out of his house in the middle of the night? You are crazy!” Nyla scolds me and I sigh. I knew they wouldn’t get me. Mostly because I don’t even get myself. One day I am laying on his couch with him, the next one I am ignoring his texts.

“I mean, do you like him?” Carlos asks intrigued. I don’t know why I am telling him all about this considering we have just started hanging out more. But I feel like I can trust him.

“I— I don’t hate him, I guess,” I say and hear Nyla scoff.

“You don’t hate him? Girl, you are down bad for him, just admit it!” She calls me out but I shake my head. It’s not true. Just because I don’t hate him, it doesn’t automatically mean that I am in love with him. Yes, I like how he fucks me but it doesn’t mean anything more than that. He just had to go and complicate everything, didn’t he?

“Then leave him alone. If you don’t like him, then just cut ties with him,” Carlos says plainly. I furrow my brows because it makes sense but it doesn’t feel… right? I know I said I would stop talking to him but that was before he confessed his feelings to me. Now everything feels different and overwhelming.

"We could be friends…” I hazard saying.

“«tell me you’re okay at least, please,» «y/n, I’m sorry if I did something wrong. Please, text me back» Y/N, you are one dumb woman if you think he would ever be your friend,” Nyla reads the following texts out loud and I can’t help but cringe. Yea, that’s not possible. I haven’t seen Jannik since that day I showed up in tears on his doorstep and we acted weirdly. It has been a week. A week of no contact, of no texting back, of not seeing each other. It feels normal and odd at the same time.

“You like him and once you will realize it I hope it won’t be too late,” Nyla adds before handing me back my phone.

Do I like him? Do I like Jannik? The same Jannik I swore I hated? The same Jannik who pissed me the fuck off? The same Jannik I couldn’t stand months ago? What changed? And how did that happen?

Carlos’ birthday rolls around quickly and I know that I will have to face him. I tried to skip it but the childish pout on the Spaniard’s face convinced me to come, although it will lead to me seeing him. Nevertheless, I am still surprised when I spot Jannik by the pool. He is talking to some of our shared friends and he seems very engaged in the conversation. I stop and stare at him for a moment. He has a red solo cup in his hand but I doubt it had anything other than water in it. His lips are curved into a tiny smile as Andrew talks. He is wearing a white t-shirt and beige cargo pants. His red curls are shorter than I remembered but he still looks good.

More time than I thought passes by because at some point he looks away from Andrew and finds me, probably having felt observed. I gulp when our eyes meet. A chill rolls down my spine but I ignore it and I simply walk away and into the house.

Jannik is the past. I am not ready for whatever that was and it’s best keeping things how they were. I hate him, he hates me. That’s it.

“You made it!” A drunk Carlos wraps an arm around my neck and leads me into his kitchen. It’s barely eleven in the evening and he’s already pouring me a third shot of tequila.

“Y/N!” Nyla and Andrew come to join us and I giggle when Carlos almost knocks down the bottle of tequila. His house is crammed with people and I wonder how he is going to clean all of this up by tomorrow night when his parents come back home.

“If you chug down a glass of water afterwards you won’t feel the bad taste,” I tell the group who is making disgusted faces right after taking a shot of straight vodka. Not our best idea.

“Jannik was just telling me that! It’s crazy,” Andrew says chuckling and grabbing a beer from the fridge. I freeze for a moment and I sigh, trying to shake that weird feeling off me. I know Nyla is staring at me but I won’t give her the joy of seeing me feel any kind of emotion when his name is mentioned. I am so normal about him.

“Did someone call my name?” Fuck.

Jannik stands on the threshold, arms crossed over his chest and a stupid smirk on his lips which drops the moment he sees me amongst our friends. Yea, exactly, totally normal.

“Anna stopped trying to win you back? Well, that was fast,” Andrew says laughing. I try not to show any emotion but my eyes immediately flicker back to Jannik who looks away. So I was not entirely wrong for suspecting the genuineness of their relationship.

“I say you guys should get back together, you looked cute together,” Andrew continues. The tension grows thicker as none of us says anything. Jannik stares at his shoes and I stare at him. I am not listening to this conversation, not now, not ever. I am not interested, I don’t care.

I walk past Jannik and into the living room where there is the majority of the guests. Why do these things always happen at some party? I should stop showing up to them for a while, maybe I will stop seeing him everywhere. It feels weird to see him after such a long time and my stomach dropped when those words left Andrew’s mouth.

“Y/N, can we talk?” I suddenly hear speak from behind me. I don’t even need to turn around to know who’s talking.

“There’s nothing to discuss, Jannik,” I cut to the point. I don’t want to spend the night talking to him. Talking got us nowhere.

“Perché non mi hai mai risposto? Pensavo avessimo deciso di provarci insieme… Ma tu sei scomparsa prima ancora che potessi svegliarmi,” (why you never replied? I thought we decided we were going to try together… but you were gone before I could even wake up) he speaks and my throat closes up. I walk outside because last thing I want is to fight in a crowded room where I can’t even hear my own thoughts. Jannik follows me and suddenly it feels like we are back in that garden when he confessed his feelings to me.

“I think I got confused in the process of all this. You are you and I am me, Jannik,”

“Che cazzo significa, Y/N? Non ha senso!” (What the fuck does that mean? It doesn’t make any sense!) he bursts out angrily and I feel my head exploding with a million thoughts.

“Listen I—“

“No, ora mi ascolti tu. Non so che cosa ti sia successo, non so perché ti rimanga così difficile aprirti con me e mi dispiace. Ma non ce la faccio più, Y/N. Un giorno mi vuoi e mi preghi di toccarti, il giorno dopo ti ingelosisci della mia ex ma dopo sparisci quando ti dico che provo qualcosa per te. Poi però torni da me piangendo e mi chiedi di abbracciarti perché stai soffrendo e lo faccio, lo faccio perché farei di tutto per te, anche fingere di odiarti per averti vicina. Ma il giorno dopo scappi e mi ignori. Non ce la faccio. Mi vuoi ma poi mi odi. Mi odi ma poi mi vuoi,” (no, you listen to me now. I don’t know what happened to you, I don’t know why it is so hard for you to open up to me and I am sorry. But I can’t do this anymore. One day you want me and you beg me to touch you, the next day you get jealous for my ex and then you leave when I say I have feelings for you. But then you come back crying and asking me to hold you because you are in pain and I agree, I agree because I would do anything for you, even pretend to hate you to have you close. But the following day you run away and ignore me. I can’t do this. You want me but the you hate me. You hate me but then you want me,) he spits out quickly. His cheeks are flushed for the anger and he’s gesticulating a lot. I stare at him almost in disbelief. What am I doing? What is this? Jannik stares at me and I can see the tiredness all over his face. He’s tired of this, of us, of me being uncertain, of coming back just to leave again.

“Dimmi che non provi niente per me e me ne andrò. Ti giuro che ti lascio in pace, però ho bisogno che tu mi dica che tutto quello che è successo tra noi non ha significato niente per te. Dimmelo,” (tell me you don’t feel anything for me and I will leave. I promise you I will leave you in peace, but I need you to tell me that everything that happened between us meant nothing to you. Say it to me,) Jannik is suddenly too close and I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Is that what it feels like to have feelings for him? Nono. I hate Jannik, no? I stay quiet and stare at him, into his green eyes. The same eyes that were looking at me lovingly that day on his couch. He has a point I am not ready to prove.

“Jan…” I choke on my own words. He sighs and looks down at the grass. When have I become so emotionally unavailable? Blocked?

“Voglio te, Y/N. Voglio stare con te e non poterti avere mi distrugge. Ma forse non è lo stesso per te. Forse non impazzisci ogni volta che ti tocco, forse non ti senti debole quando ti dico che sei l’unica per me, forse non ti importa se sto con un’altra, se penso ad un’altra, forse non ti piaccio proprio…” (i want you. I want to be with you and not being able to have you breaks me. But maybe it’s not the same for you. Maybe you don’t melt every time I touch you, maybe you don’t go weak when I tell you you are the only one for me, maybe you don’t care if I am with another girl, if I think about another girl, maybe you don’t even like me…) he mumbles trying to get ahold of my hand. I let him because I feel weak under his gaze. All of the sudden I am back at his place and I am kissing him and he’s holding me close. I am meeting his mom and she’s being extremely nice to me. I am in his shower and he’s telling me he wants me. He intertwines our fingers and brings my hand to his lips to kiss the back of it.

“I— I just… You confuse me, Jan. I say I hate you but then you look at me like that and I feel like the most gorgeous girl ever. You make me feel things I don’t want to feel, not for you. I don’t know when I started convincing myself I would have to hate you but it stuck with me. I tell everyone I despise you but then when you are around I feel weak, I want to kiss you and slap you at the same time. I want to fuck you and have you telling me I am the only one for you. But I can’t bring myself to stay. I am so scared of this, it’s stupid,” I confess. His eyes soften and he presses another kiss to my hand.

“We’ll figure this out together. Whenever you feel scared just tell me, I’ll be there to remind you that this is real and that I am not going anywhere. If you need space, I’ll give it to you. If you need a friend, I’ll be one for you. If you need a fuck, I will—“

“I got it!” I cut him off when I feel my cheeks grow redder. He chuckles and pulls me closer, my hands find place at the back of his neck and his on my hips. I don’t know what I am doing. My head tells me to run away, escape, hide. But my heart feels at peace when he smiles at me. Maybe I should just put down my walls, I should give it a try, I should give him a chance, the guy I say I hate but I secretly like.

“Prometti di non scappare domani mattina?” (Promise not to run away tomorrow morning?) he asks and I giggle. He’s not wrong for doubting me. His nose brushes against mine and I grin.

“I don’t know, is your mom coming over tomorrow?” I thread my fingers through his short hair and he chuckles.

“No, domani mattina sei tutta mia,” (no, you’re all mine tomorrow morning) and with that he kisses me and I forget I was ever scared.

[for-writing-shit]

Lucky Ones / Chapter 2: dumb and dumber

Jannik Sinner x Tennis Player!Reader

masterlist | join the tag list!

summary: Y/N and Jannik come together at the 2024 Australian Open for the first time after what happened at the 2023 Wimbledon.

wc: 3.2k

genre: slow burn; fluff, angst & smut!

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, NSFW; makeout, dry humping and unprotected sex (be smart)!

note: hi! finally Jannik joined us! i don't think there's a champions' dinner for the ao but now there is lol i don't have much things to say about this chapter, just enjoy it! xx

<- previous chapter

 The 2024 Australian Open Champions’ Dinner

“Today is about you, stop frowning, okay? People are already waiting for some ugly picture of yours to use in their magazines and you’re giving them what they want!” Maggie, your manager who you’ve been working with since you became a pro player, whispers at you. 

She’s not so wrong, you won your 4th Grand Slam two days ago and the dinner is partly about your win. But it’s also about the other players like Amelia Kelce and Daniil Medvedev, who showed up in women’s and men’s finals, but most importantly Jannik Sinner, who won his 1st Grand Slam yesterday.

“I’m not frowning, I’m just observing people.” you say,“ Have you seen Walsh’s dress?” 

Although your judgemental eyes are still on Emma, you can see how Maggie’s expression changes when her eyes find the young girl’s dress. “Oh Gosh- Isn’t she 19? She looks 50 in that dress!” she says, covering her mount in case anyone would understand that WTA’s No. 1 player is gossiping about the people.

“Who let her wear this definitely hates her.” you say with a giggle. “Absolutely disas-” she cuts you off when the young player waves at you with a grin. “Change the topic, change the topic! She’s coming over here!”

“Y/N, hi!” Emma says, her eyes go between you and Maggie. “Oh my- Both of you look amazing! I’m so in love with this outfit!” she points at Maggie’s black jumpsuit. 

“Oh- Thank you! You also look wonderful! Right, Y/N?” Maggie looks at you with begging eyes. “Definitely wonderful!” you say.

“Stunning.”

“Breathtaking.” 

“Maroon is your color!” Maggie says and you nod with the fakest smile ever. “Absolutely!” you nod.

You’re going to burn in hell. 

“Erm, well, thank you!” she replies with a suspicious smile. “I wanted to congratulate you on your win! You’re incredible, really! I need to go now, but we’ll catch up later, yeah?” 

Oh, you’re really going to burn in hell!

“Yeah, sure! Thank you!” you say and turn over to Maggie after making sure that Emma is not nearby. “What the fuck was that? ‘Right, Y/N?’? You should be the one who communicates, not me!” you say sarcastically. 

She rolls her eyes and pinches your arm. “Shut up!” 

“Okay, mom!” you reply, glancing over your side when you notice someone, well, your actual mother. “Oh, mom! You’re finally back! What kept you so long next to Mr. Juanki?” you ask with a mischievous smile, which also makes Maggie laugh. 

“We were talking about tennis, honey, your and Carlos’ performances. What else can we do?” she challenges you, clearly ignoring your teasing. “Nothing.” you shrug your shoulders, trying to cover your smirk. 

“Ahem, girls, I need to make some phone calls but I’ll be right back.” Maddie speaks, looking between you and your mother while pointing at her phone. You nod and open your mouth but she adds before you can, “Y/N, smile! I want no frowning or ‘thinking face’, whatever you call it. Just smile!”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, it’s going to be a long night. 

Not so long after, Maggie comes back with the lustrous redhead. You’ve tried to ignore him all night long but you have no chance to run away now, not when you have to pose as men’s and women’s winners.

“There she is,” Maggie says with her beautiful smile as if she didn’t know where you were. “Jannik, this is Y/N, you must have heard about her.” 

He greets you with a smile, you haven’t seen him so closely for so long that you can’t help but find yourself admiring his face. He doesn’t look so different, with the same red hair, it might be a little longer and more curly but still the same. His green eyes are more tired, well, that’s a look of a winner as you can say but they’re still as shiny as you remember. And his smile, you’re not sure if he’s smiling sincerely, maybe he’s not happy to see you and he was also trying to ignore you but even if he’s faking, he manages to give you butterflies.

“And Y/N, this is our lovely Italian boy, Jannik!” Maggie giggles and looks at you, “There will be a little photoshoot of you two with your trophies but before that, chit-chat a bit, and get to know each other, yeah?” 

Before you can say anything, your mother giggles and speaks. “Don’t worry, Mag. I’m sure they already know each other pretty well.” 

The 2023 Wimbledon Champions’ Dinner

“Y/N!” you glance over your shoulder when you hear the familiar Italian accent, which engages your attention from Maria Garcia’s speech about her Wimbledon journey. 

“Matteo!” you greet him with a tight hug, you love that man.

Matteo Ricci, who’s also a pro tennis player like almost everyone in the room and your training partner, both on the court and at the gym. You’ve been in each others’ lives since last year, and you can’t tell you liked him at the beginning but now, you can’t think of a life without him. 

You only notice the redhead when he pulls away from your hug. Jannik Sinner, you know that he played in the semi-final against Novak Djokovic, whom you were there for, two days ago. The match lasted 3 sets but his performance can’t be underestimated. 

“I want you to meet my friend Jannik,” Matteo casually puts his arm around the redhead’s shoulder and adds, “Jannik, this is Y/N, you must have heard about her. She’s beating everyone’s ass around here, including me!” he laughs.

“Well, obviously couldn’t beat hers!” you giggle and point at Garcia with your thumb, which makes them laugh. “It’s so nice to meet you, Jannik.” you shake his hand, it’s much warmer than what you expected from his look, well, his pale skin makes him look like he’s freezing so who could blame you?

“You too, Y/N, you played amazing that day. Your slices were-” Matteo adds, “Unbelievable!”

“Thank you guys,” you blush, making eye contact with the guy who’s also blushing even though you’re not sure why. “They weren’t good enough to save me though, but your drop shots, I can’t believe how good they are!” 

“He did save amazing points with them.” Matteo agrees.

Jannik smiles and shakes his head, “I mean, they weren’t good enough to save me, no?”

Oh god…

You don’t realise your mother is coming over to you until she calls out your name. “Y/N, Matteo… And Jannik Sinner! Wow, what a beautiful view for me! What are you talking about… And why are you holding hands?” she asks curiously as he takes place next to you, looking between you and Jannik with a smile.

Were you shaking hands all this time? Really?

You immediately cross your arms and give him an apologising smile, then look at your mother. “Just tennis, you know, Jannik’s drop shots against Djokovic.” 

“Oh, they were fantastic! You showed an outstanding performance there, dear, I’m already so curious about what you’re going to do here next year.” she states and puts her hand over your shoulder, you notice that his face gets even redder with your mother’s compliments. He loves compliments so much as you understand. “But now I unfortunately need to take my daughter. It was really nice to see you two!” 

“We’ll catch up later, yeah?” you pout as you look at your friend, he nods at you before you glance over to the redhead again. “Arrivederci, Sinner.” you wink at him.

Okay, you might hope not to see him again after that stupid wink. But he goes along with you and smirks, “Arrivederci, Y/L/N.”

You leave their side but the smile on your face doesn’t leave you for a while, which, of course, catches your mother’s attention. “He’s a cute guy, isn’t he?” she asks. You murmur an ‘yeah’. 

Of course, he’s a cute guy. He has a pretty face, green eyes, and beautiful red curly hair, also he plays incredible tennis. 

You’re sure you’re not the only person who acts this stupidly when they meet him, or you just hope so. 

“Stupid heels!” you say under your breath as you take off your heels, you’ve never felt your feet hurt like they do now. You grip the long skirt of your yellow satin Givenchy dress with the same hand you’re holding your heels and your handbag as you walk out of the ballroom with a bottle of champagne, which you’re probably not allowed to take. 

After spending hours with many people you don’t know, you feel like your social battery is about to die, and leaving early wouldn’t hurt anyone since all their attention was on the winners, Carlos Alcaraz and Maria Garcia. You were supposed to leave with your mother but she decided to dump you at the last minute for someone else, so you’re going to your hotel room all alone now. 

Unless…

“Jannik! Hi!” you make your way to the Italian, he’s leaning over a wall as he’s looking at his phone. He looks over you when he hears your voice, he gives you that warm smile again. “Y/N, I thought you left.” 

“I’m leaving now,” you grin and lift the bottle to catch his attention. “And I might need company if you’re interested.” 

You’re not sure if the glances and smiles you’ve exchanged all night long were enough for him to trust you, but please say yes!

“Oh, your mother?” he looks around.

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting. “She left me for a friend.” you shrug your shoulders and lift your brows. “So, are you in or not?”

“Sure,” he giggles, “I’ll be your company.” 

“So, you and Matteo are just friends?” Jannik asks. 

Both of you are lying on your back on your queen-sized bed after some glasses of champagne and looking at the mirror on the ceiling. You’re still in your dress but your hair looks so messy, also your makeup is a bit ruined. Jannik, on the other hand, still looks the same, he took off his black blazer and unbuttoned one or two buttons on his shirt, his hair is much messier but it still looks good when you consider the amount of time he ran his hands among his curly locks. 

“Yeah, we met when I first moved to Madrid.” you nod, “People think we’re fucking or something but he’s like a brother to me, you know, also he’s not my type.” 

“No?” he challenges, you can see that he shifts on his side and puts his hand under his chin, he’s directly looking at you now. “No.”

“Then what’s your type?” Are you sober enough to fake or is he drunk enough to forget, that’s what you think.

“I don’t know, just not someone like him.” you lean back on your elbows.

“Someone like Carlos?” you laugh at first but then see he’s serious. “He’s not so different from Matteo, is he? Both of them are brunettes.” 

“Blondes then.” he lifts a brow.

“Nah, but redheads are good.” you hold your breath. “Must be difficult to find in Madrid.” he smirks.

“I have a unique taste.” you reply as you wink at him. You can see that he’s pretty much enjoying it now. “What else?” 

“I love curls, they’re so nice.” You wrap one of his curls that is messily falling over his forehead around your finger and murmur, “Also green eyes.” 

“I think I know someone who matches your taste.” he states, his green eyes directly looking into yours. You are afraid he can read your mind with how he looks at you. “Yeah? Does he play tennis?”

“Yeah,” his eyes make their way to your lips, “And he wants to kiss you now.”

“He can kiss me.” you whisper, your breath hitches in your throat when his face gets closer to yours. You don’t know if you’re going to regret this later, but at the moment, as his relatively big hand cups your cheek and his soft lips finally meet yours, you let yourself to his warm touch and fruity taste left behind the champagne. 

That’s the future Y/N’s problem.

You move your body closer to him without breaking the kiss, your hands go up his shoulders as he helps you straddle him, and your dress rides up over your bare things. The hand on your cheek dives into your hair and the other hand caresses your thigh as you deepen the kiss.

You hum when you feel him hardening under you, softly rolling your hips as you try to get some friction. 

You keep grinding on his pants covered hard-on until you can't stop grunting each other's mouths and the feeling between your legs gets more uncomfortable, the thong underneath you is sticky in the most disgusting way and you're pretty sure even his pants get sticky by your dripping cunt.

“Amore,” he whimpers into your mouth, his eyes are still closed from the kiss.  “I need to feel you, please.”

“I want to ride you.” you start kissing his jaw to his neck as much as his button-up lets you. “Do whatever you want, but I need to feel you before I cum in my pants.” he says desperately, his darkened green eyes finally meeting yours after a long time. 

You immediately get off him and take your dress, and so does he, and crawl over him like you never left. You make your way up as you give some kisses to his abs to his chest, to his neck, and eventually to his lips which got some color from the kiss and your lipstick. 

You break the kiss and sit back on his thighs, your palms resting on his lower abs as you look into his eyes and speak. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” he says at once, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he’s dying to feel your touch since your handshake earlier that night. “Please, Y/N…”

You spread the precum oozing out of his tip to his shaft and pump him a few times before slowly sinking down, his big hands grip your waist as you take your time as if you’re going to leave him just like that. 

You let out a ‘Fuck’ under your breath when you completely sink down and rest your forehead on his broad shoulder as you look where your bodies meet, “You feel so good,” Jannik murmurs as you start moving your lower body, “So so good.”

You push him back by his chest and grip down his shoulders as you start bouncing until you find a rhythm, which doesn’t take you so long. Moans and whimpers fly in the air with your every move, he pulls you closer and closer as you take both of you closer and closer to your releases. 

When he notices that your movements are halting and your knees getting weaker, he pulls you into a kiss and starts thrusting up into you when you’re chest-to-chest with him. Of course, you couldn’t keep up with the kiss so much and start breathing and whimpering into each others’ open mouths.

You let yourself melt into his warm body when you come down from your orgasm, you let him keep you in his arms and hug you, kiss your forehead, and other cute stuff like you thought he would do. 

After a long time, you feel like you’re complete. 

But apparently, your feelings were wrong because when you woke up in the morning, you were all alone like none of these things ever happened.

You wished that they never happened.

Back to The 2024 Australian Open Champions’ Dinner

After your photos are taken with your trophies and you did whatever you needed to do as winners, you walk away from the Italian as fast as you can for certain reasons. You’ve already put up with him much better than you thought you would and you don’t think that you have any more faking left in you.

“Y/N, can we talk, please?” you hear Jannik’s voice behind you but you don’t pay heed to him and keep walking. You feel relieved when you see Matteo, who’s coming over to you, but your happiness doesn’t last long when he speaks. “I was about to go to our Carota boy’s side, come on!”

Is he fucking joking?!

“No… Ricci, no, please! You know I can’t-” but he gives you a side eye, which gently means ‘Do I care?’ in his language. 

And he puts his strong arm around your shoulder and takes you to Jannik’s side, who is talking with a blonde woman- Wait, why is he talking with Andrea? Or the better question, what is Andrea doing here? She couldn’t even get to the second round.

Your mind stays busy while Matteo and Jannik greet each other in Italian and say some things you don’t pay attention to. “Y/N! It has been a while!” Andrea takes you back to reality.

“Hi, Andrea.” You force another smile and try not to roll your eyes as you speak, “Well, it might be because you don’t last more than one or two rounds to play against me anymore.” 

You can’t help but actually smile this time when you hear Matteo’s laugh and see her face fall. Maybe it wasn’t too bad to join him. But you know you can only speak like that because neither your mother nor Maggie is around, otherwise, they wouldn’t let you speak like that.

Especially not against her.

“So funny.” she says, you can hear how annoyed she is with your presence. “Anyways, congratulations. This is your first win here, right?” she asks with a smirk. 

“Thank you and yes, erm, ‘She should take advantage of my absence.’ was what you said to the media, right? I did what you said.” you smile and add, “Why are you here though? This is the Champions’ Dinner, you couldn't even pass the round one.”

She nuzzles up and puts her head on Jannik's shoulder, “I'm here for my boyfriend's first Grand Slam, Y/N, not for you.” 

What? 

“What?” The word leaves your mouth out of your control, now you understand why he's been so silent next to her. Your eyes look at his green ones with disappointment but you can't show your feelings now. “I mean, wow! I'm happy for you Jannik- Also, Andrea. I'm happy for you too.”

They don't believe you, but you don’t judge them because you don't believe yourself too. 

After a few minutes of listening to the Italian men, you feel like you can't take the sickening scene in front of you and leave their side with another fake smile, leaving Matteo behind you but he finds you not so long after. 

“What was that?” he asks, you know that he’s not asking to judge you. He's the only person you believe that doesn't judge you and you're so grateful for that. 

“I already can't put up with the dumb, and now she has her dumber. I stayed there longer than I should have.” you defend yourself. 

Matteo puts his hand on your back and pulls you closer, you put your head on his shoulder as you keep walking. “I thought I was the dumb.” he says to make you smile.

“Yeah, but I forgot that she existed,” you whisper and look up at him from the corner of your eyes as you smile, “You’ll always be my dumb though, don’t worry about it.”

tag list: @rvblos @jannikwpasta @pastry-cult @coralsaladexpert

[for-writing-shit]

ROUTINE ANALYSIS ☆ J.S.

In his short life, Jannik has learned the subtleties that all great observers have. And somehow, he'll always manage to use those skills on you. word count: 1.9k words - genuinely so glad someone asked for another part. had a lot of fun with this 🙏🏾 warnings: mentions of prayer/spirituality, kissing, sickeningly sweet domesticity

The day before a big match is always the most nervewracking. Excitement, combined with the everpresent fear of failure, finally settles into the pit of an athlete's stomach and waits to be cracked open like an oyster or left to fester as the pearls within those creatures do. And for you, it's no different.

So, to alleviate your very obvious unease, Jannik decided to take it upon himself, on his day off, to practice with you. Having already secured his place in the semi-final, he had decided one less day of rest would be worth it if he could help out the woman he loved.

Practice went well, by all definitions of the word. In fact, it went really well. However, Jannik's praises and your temporary feeling of contentment could not negate the fact you just might buckle underneath the pressure of the match.

The emotions showed at the end of practice when you crouched down with your forehead on the handle of your racket and prayed - aloud - out of Jannik's earshot, of course. You'd never been super big on outward displays of faith like that; you preferred a more reserved, intimate relationship with spirituality. But desperate times call for desperate measures and you had squeezed your eyes tight and prayed as hard as you could. And once you were done, you dusted yourself off, packed your racket bag, and trotted out of the facilities with your boyfriend. You tried to think nothing of it, so Jannik wouldn't notice. But he does. He always does.

Turning the shower off, you wrapped the towel tightly around yourself and opened the door exiting the bathroom. Steam and hot air billowed out around you, casting the light every which way. You looked down, hugging your torso; water drips from your elbows, and you let out a quiet sigh.

"From where I am, you look like an angelo dal cielo, dearest," Jannik says, leaning against an adjacent doorway. You turn away and smile. An angle from heaven. How classy. The Italian's charms will never cease to make you blush, no matter how long you've been together. "Why thank you, Jannik," you say, walking over to your bags. You quickly found your nightclothes - one of Jannik's old t-shirts and a pair of spanx - and promptly threw them on.

"You played so well today, amore," Jannik said from behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist. You smile down at your bag. "Really now? Well, I guess I did have an amazing practice partner," you say with a smirk.

"You guess?!?" Jannik pulls away, and you turn around to see the Italian dramatically gaping at you. He faints onto your shared hotel bed with a hand on his forehead. Straight out of the opera. You roll your eyes. "Get up, you bum. We need to brush our teeth." The two of you make your way to the bathroom sink and go through the motions of a usual night. Bumping hips while brushing. Moisturizing each other's faces. Making gargling mouthwash a competition. You don't realize it, not yet, that Jannik is distracting you from the whirlwind of thoughts he knows is in your mind. And future you is already thankful.

You pad your way around the room, turning out the lights and straightening things. Jannik sits in bed rereading David Foster Wallace's String Theory for the hundredth time. He leans closer to the lamp on the nightstand. "You already wear glasses, baby. Don't hurt your eyes anymore," you call out from across the room. Jannik huffs and puts the book down. He knows I'm right, and he can't admit it. Such a man. While making your rounds, you glimpse tomorrow's outfit in the closet, and you almost forget yourself and shudder. Instead, you just close the doors and slip into bed.

Jannik notices you're not as chatty as usual. On a typical night, you'd be talking to him about your day, the funny things you saw on social media, weird texts from your siblings. But it's not a typical night, and Jannik understands.

"You are thinking about tomorrow's match, aren't you," Jannik says, looking at the ceiling. He still hasn't turned off the lamp, so the warm lighting casts half his face in shadow. You reach over and run your hand through his curls. "What makes you say that, Jan?"

"Oh, I don't know. How quiet you were at dinner—the constant sighing and staring into the distance, the praying." He says the last phrase with a sidelong glance, and you close your eyes and breathe. The jig is up. You sink into the bed and look away from him.

"Jan, do you ever get that feeling of 'I'm going to screw everything up once I get out there' before a big match? Because I sure as hell do," you whisper to him. The covers are pulled up to your chin. You're hiding. You're actually ashamed of a feeling so natural. And you aren't sure what upsets you more; the shame or the feeling itself.

Jannik mulls over your question. "No," he says flatly. You sit up straight. Jannik rises to lean on his elbow so he can look you in the eye. "For me, it's always the thought of 'the worst I can do is embarrass myself in front of millions of people.' And honestly, I think that might be worse."

You smile at him. "I think it might be the same," you whisper back at him. You huff, thinking of what to say.

"It's just... I've played countless finals and hope to play countless more, and you've invested so much time, energy, love into me and-"

"You know you can do it, but you still feel like, um, how do I put this, merda?" You've thrown your hands over your face. "Yes. Merda's the word."

Jannik smiles and pulls you into him.

"Well, I can't get rid of the feeling for you, but I can tell you one thing; you are one hell of a tennis player, and that other girl, your opponent, has nothing on you. Not your passion, not your personality, not even your attitude. None of it." He squeezes you with every compliment. A few tears prick your eyes. "So, I want you to throw away all of your doubts and worries. Win or lose, there is nothing you can do to get rid of me now. But you are not going to lose. I can feel it." His hands are on your face, forcing you to look into his dark eyes. You place your hands on his wrists and nod your head. "Okay, Jannik."

"Good," Jannik says with a small smile. And with that, he seals his words into your mind, body, and soul with a kiss on your forehead.

Jannik finally turns off the lamp, and the two of you settle into bed. There's a beat where you both just listen to the sounds of the night. The other's breathing. Cars still rushing by. The ticking of the clock on the wall.

"What did you pray about," Jannik says, breaking the silence. There was never much of it in your relationship, and Jannik knew he should probably revel in the quiet, but he needed to know one last thing before he went to sleep.

"None of your business, dork," you say, snuggling into your pillow.

"Ouch," Jannik says, putting his hand on his heart. You snort a laugh and close your eyes.

"I prayed that all your training wouldn't go to waste and that I'd win tomorrow so I can prove to myself that I am indeed that confident woman I thought...think I am. I'm usually pretty "go with the flow" but I guess someone finally got to me, you know? But overall, it was for guidance and strength."

Something in Jannik's chest tightened. Your tone and the way you described what you were feeling reminded him of himself. He leaned over and kissed your neck.

"You know what Italians call people like you?" You shake your head.

"il preoccupata. Pensatore eccessivo. The worrier. The overthinker. But to be completely honest, I think you are more of il filiosofa - the philosopher. You carefully study everything around you and try to put a name to it. And this time, you couldn't. Your, erm, what's it called when you test something over and over to see if it works?"

"Routine analysis?"

"Yes, that. Your routine analysis," Jan emphasized the phrase you just taught him. "You couldn't check the boxes, and that upset you. But dearest, you are not a robot. Feel as you feel, and don't try to explain it away. It's what makes you human; what makes you, you."

Your bottom lip began to quiver. "Oh, dispiace amore mio. I didn't mean to make you cry. Forget everything I just said.

"No, I-I'm not sad, Jan. It's quite the opposite. You're just s-so right," you blubber into his chest. "And I'm so lucky to have you."

Jannik dips down to kiss you. "Get some sleep, amore. You have a big day ahead of you." You're not sure if it was Jannik's words or all the stress leaving your body (probably both, to be frank), but you had the best night's sleep you've had in weeks.

You beamed up at the cheering crowd. It was next to impossible for you to contain your joy as you walked to the next to shake hands with your opponent. The look on her face was...kind. It was filled with a certain security that is hard to describe.

The two of you shook hands and gave each other a quick hug. "You deserve it," she says as both of you walk to the umpire. Another smile spread across your face. "Oh, stop it."

"No, really. You fought like hell," she says with a laugh. You follow suit, finally feeling the pit in your stomach be filled like a pothole in a parking lot. After hands were shaken and you waved your racket at every person in the stadium, you decided it was time to find Jannik.

You zipped your racket bag shut and weaved in and out of the people setting up cameras and ramps for the trophy presentation. Your trophy. Finally making it to the court entrance, you bounded up flights of stairs and traversed the corridors to your team box, where Jannik awaited you.

He spots you first. He always does. Jannik makes a few quick strides, scoops you up in his arms, and spins you around. You laugh into the air and place your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself.

"I knew you could do it tesoro," Jannik whispers in your ear, bringing you back down to earth. "I know, I know. Should've listened to you earlier," you say looking down at your feet, a bit embarrassed at all your worrying just for everything to turn out okay. He laughs and wraps a long arm around your shoulders.

"You'll be here for the award ceremony, right?" The answer is quite obvious, but you ask the question anyway.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world amore," he said, smiling down at you.

"Front row," you ask sarcastically as you shuffle towards the exit.

"Where else would I be, honey," Jannik smirks. You grin back at him. "Well, I'll see you down there then." And you turn to walk down the stairs.

"Oh, wait," Jannik calls after you.

"Yes, dear?"

"Ti amo bambina," Jannik says, leaning down the stairs to look you in the eye. Your heart tightens a bit.

"Anch'io ti amo, Jannik," you answer softly, closing the gap between the two of you and laying a light kiss on Jannik's lips.

author's note: as an athlete, those unshakeable feelings of imposter syndrome sneak up on you lol. even for the most laid back of us, me included. I remember this one time I got knocked out of high jump and really beat myself about it (I shouldn't have, I'd just run the 400m five minutes before and my legs were mush) but I cried for like three minutes and moved on to my next event. c'est la vie.

[for-writing-shit]

NNINAAA!! give me making out with glasses jannik and MY LIFE IS YOURSSS

making out with glasses!jannik (blurb)

warnings: making out (it gets a little suggestive)

notes: YES YES YES literally giggling and kicking my feet as i write this

it started like all the other times: he came back from training tired as ever, just wanting to wash all of his thoughts away from his mind.

just a small peck on his lips was enough to make him all flustered and needy, your lips on his made him shiver and moan in your mouth. “someone’s needy, huh?” you giggled as he blushed softly at your words.

“i just… need you.” he whispered. and it was so cute: his curls falling perfectly on his face, cheeks all red and his glasses were almost slipping off his nose. with a fast movement he put them in place.

“like this?” you asked with an innocent tone, making your way towards his lips. instinctively he parted his lips as an answer to your action, welcoming your tongue in his mouth. his hands gripping firmly your hips, squeezing your flesh as his life depended on it.

he let a small whimper out of his mouth as he felt your body move upon his, finding you on his lap straddling him. the noises he was making were so cute you giggled in the kiss, as he hummed against your lips.

you interrupted the kiss, searching for air, and you noticed that his glasses were falling off his nose. “should we take these off?” you smiled at him taking them in your hands. he nodded eagerly as he pushed your body against his chest, wanting to feel you as close as possible to him.

you placed them on the couch and said “these make you look so hot, baby.” you complimented him and he immediately blushed, looking away to not meet your gaze. you chuckled at his embarrassment, finding it cute.

“ti prego…” he murmured softly with a pleading voice, looking up at you with glassy eyes. he was irresistible.

he let his head fall back as you attacked his neck gently, leaving soft marks and traces of saliva behind. he grunted feeling your hand starting palming his through his pants, and bucked his hips to feel you as close as possible.

“calm down.” you hummed on his skin. “non ci riesco.” he managed to say between heavy breaths, eyes wide as never before.

and just like that he was at your mercy.

tag list: @pretty-hate-machineee @xoxolovlies

[for-writing-shit]

had a divine vision of jannik taking his shirt off at some point during a match but forgetting about the scratch marks left recently on his back by reader 😶

warnings: a bit suggestive

notes: BARKABEKAWOFOWOF

the match had been going on for almost three hours now and it never seemed to end. the heat of madrid was unbearable, so annoying that you wanted to tear your skin off. but you couldn’t. you were sitting in jannik’s box and you had been watching him the whole time, and even if the match was being so long, he didn’t seem to care.

but what he seemed to care about was the heat, it was ruining him. during a break he rushed to his bench and began rummaging inside his bag looking for a clean t-shirt to exchange with the one he was wearing. when he found it he smiled to himself, quickly getting off the one he had on and taking a towel from the bench to wipe the sweat off his torso.

suddenly all the cameras were on him, or rather, on his back, projecting the image onto the large screen above the spectators. you hadn't paid much attention to it until you heard giggles coming from behind you and, with a confused look, you looked at the image on the screen.

your boyfriend’s back was full of red marks and nail scratches. you cheeks turned red just at the thought of the night before, when you decided to give him the necessary strength to face his final, letting him fuck you until you couldn’t even breathe, marking his skin as he slipped in and out of you.

the flashbacks of the night before disconnected you from reality and you were brought back on earth when you heard vagno’s voice “you two had fun last night, huh? that’s why he’s playing so well.” he chuckled.

the crowd was going crazy, everyone was pointing and giggling at the image on the screen, still fixed on jannik’s back. he didn’t seem to care at all, he almost didn’t even notice.

when the match was over you were waiting him in the hall and as he came towards you with a smile on his lips he said “what was all that laughing about before?” after leaving a peck on your lips.

“it was about you back…” you hesitated, waiting for his answer. “my back? what about my ba-.” he was clueless, but as soon as he was reminded by your words he fell silent, chuckling to himself.

“that’s not funny!” you exclaimed. “even vagno noticed it, jannik! and he laughed too!” “i bet he wanted to be there with us.” he winked playfully at you, enjoying your reaction. “jannik!” you hit his shoulder, taking your face in your hands from embarrassment.

“don’t worry, baby. i’ll make it up to you.” he whispered in your ear as you walked out of the building. “gonna mark you up real good, so i won’t be the only one with scratches on his back…” his words were like honey, and you melt under his touch as he caressed your back slowly.

tag list: @xoxolovlies @pretty-hate-machineee @gogz-ee @yungbludz @rublito @2manytabsopen

[for-writing-shit]

beg me — js

warnings: smut, nsfw content

“I want to hear you beg,” I mumble in his ear but he doesn’t need much convincing as he starts mumbling nonsense in his mother tongue.

“Per favore,” (please)

“Toccami, per favore,” (touch me, please)

“Non ce la faccio più,” (I can’t take it anymore)

And he’s at my mercy, staring at me with his big glassy green eyes, messy red curls adorning his face and rosy cheeks that make his freckles stand out even more. He’s sitting there, in his black boxers. His training kit on the floor and itching hands trying to touch me.

“I don’t know, maybe you don’t deserve to cum,” I tease him because I can, because I know this is his most vulnerable moment in our sex life and I get off on it. He shakes his head and sighs annoyed and frustrated.

“Per favore, guardami,” (please, look at me) and I know he does not want to look at him him, he wants me to look at him. His hard on so visible through his black boxers that it’s funny.

“It’s not my fault,” I lie. I know what got him here but it’s more entertaining to see him huff and scoff because I am purposefully neglecting him.

“Sì, continuavi a strusciarti su di me…” (yes, you kept grinding against me) he’s not wrong, but does it mean I will give in? Of course not. I trail my hand up his thigh, my nails caressing the pale skin. He hisses.

“So?”

“Per favore, amore… Toccami,” (please love… touch me) he mumbles with the softest and whiniest tone ever. He looks so cute at my mercy. He would take anything I am willing to give him and it’s endearing, it makes me feel powerful.

“Where?” I insist watching as he rolls his eyes at my fake innocence. I like playing this little game because it riles him up.

“Se non—“ (if you don’t—)

“Are you threatening me, Mr Sinner?” I mock him. He clenches his jaw and mumbles something under his breath. I sit back on my heels, retracting my hand from his thigh.

“Go on then, touch yourself for me and if you are good enough, I’ll give you a present,” I do not know where all of this comes from but I see something switch in his gaze. He is not annoyed anymore, he’s intrigued. We have never masturbated in front of each other but the idea is very appealing to me.

Jannik is quick at pulling down the waistband of his boxers and there I see it: his hard on. I smirk proud of myself.

“It must hurt,” I make fun of him again. I know he likes it when I am a little mean to him, he is so used to being praised that a little meanness does not hurt him, on the contrary, it makes him horny.

“Go on, Jan,” I insist as I see him stall. Jannik gulps as he wraps his hand around his cock. His hand is much bigger than mine and it doesn’t look that smaller compared to his length. I look up at him and he’s staring at me.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask curious. There is not much to think about considering I am sitting half naked in front of him. He chuckles and starts off slowly.

“A quella volta a Miami. Quando mi hai legato al letto… Sei stata proprio una stronza, ma mi hai fatto impazzire,” (about that time in Miami. When you tied me to the bed frame… You were such a bitch but it drove me crazy) he mumbles with a smile. It was right after winning the title and the spirits were very high. I do not know what came over me that night but I was in charge. I tied him to the bed and made him beg for it. It was weird considering that we do not usually have sex like that. But it was refreshing.

“Oh yea? Would you like it if I did it again? If I tied you up real nice? What else?” I ask smiling mischievously. He nods frenetically and his hand picks up the pace. Why is the sight of him jerking himself off so appealing to me?

“Ti metti sopra di me e mi scopi fino a farmi venire dentro…” (You get on top of me and fuck me until I cum inside) he mumbles with no filter. I am shocked. This is not the Jannik I am used to but I like it. His cheeks get even redder. Does he have a breeding kink? The goody two shoes he has always been with everyone is now gone. I like this side of him: unfiltered and real.

“Yea? You’d like that? Watch me take it?” I tease him more and he nods, his head tilting back as his hand moves faster. The tip of his cock disappears in his hand as he jerks himself off. This is hot. I wish I could take a video and rewatch it when he is away.

“Sì, sì… Continua,” (yes, yes… keep going) he mumbles out and gulps. He’s close. I stop his hand by the wrist. He whines and glares at me.

I look at him with a devilish smirk before spitting on his tip. “Thought you needed a hand…”

Jannik stares at me bewildered. His hand resuming its movements while he keeps looking at me. I giggle amused with his fucked out face.

“Porca troia,” (fucking hell)

“Ti prego,” (please)

“Sono stato bravo?” (Have I been good?) he asks as finishes on his lower stomach. I lick my lips and nod, lean in and pecking his mouth. He looks so handsome it makes me want to ruin him even more. My finger touches his stomach, picking up a little bit of his release and I tap my digit on his lips waiting for him to part them, which he does. He can be such a good boy.

“So good, baby…” and he smiles proud of himself.

[for-writing-shit]

Future- Jannik sinner

|Warnings: none

|Summary: What if your boyfriend is unexpectedly good with children?

You didn’t know your boyfriend was good with children, and to be honest, you were also surprised.

You two were at a friend’s night out and one of your best friends had a 3 years old daughter: she was a beautiful little baby who only wanted to play; she was running around the house, not caring about her mother who was scolding her .While you were talking to your friends,one of your best friends touches your shoulder and points her finger towards you boyfriend,who was playing with the baby entertaining her with a tennis ball:he really can’t stop thinking about tennis,can’t he?

You knew that your boy was a really sweet and caring person,especially with children,and while you were watching them,you felt a sensation of calmness,which was strange and it was something that you never felt before,almost like a sense of security.

He was the kind of boyfriend that would support you and make you feel secure about yourself.

In that moment you imagined yourselves as parents,of maybe a beautiful and lively baby girl:

you knew that he would've been the greatest daddy and wouldn’t let you down ever.

“Is it normal that I want to be a mother now?”you ask,almost blaming yourself for the question.

“Omg i would love to see a mini version of you with red hair”

It was time to go,but someone didn’t really wanted to get off your man,hugging him and begging him to stay.Your boyfriend couldn’t stop himself from laughing,but a smile of pure happiness appears on your face.

“You have to let Jannik go!”Says the her mom,fully ashamed of what was appening,even if she didn’t have to: you had obtained one of the countless certainties that your boyfriend had shown you he had.Could you ever ask for something better?

 Finally the baby lets your boyfriend go and she waves at you two while  opening the front door.

“E comunque,sono gelosa” 

( And just to be honest,i’m jealous)

You say ironically and your man starts to laugh.

“Oh, veramente?”

(Oh really?)

“Hai visto il modo in cui ti guardava?E’ follemente innamorata di te”

(Did you see the way she looked at you? She’s completely in love with you)

“Di sicuro ho un certo fascino”

(I certainly have a certain charm)

He says boasting ironically,you roll your eyes through the sky.

"Oh,per favore”

(Oh please)

While he was driving, you noticed him giggling:,It must have been something good, so you asked him.

“Cosa c’e’ di così divertente?” 

(What’s so funny?)

“Stavo solo immaginando  di poter magari avere una casa di famiglia in qualche posto speciale,avere duo o tre figli e magari giocare con loro ad ogni ora del giorno.Magari tu potresti portarli ai miei incontri facendoli appassionare al tennis,chissà.”

(I was just imagining maybe having a family home somewhere special, having two or three kids and maybe playing with them every hour of the day.Maybe you could bring them to my meetings and make them passionate about tennis, who knows)

“Quindi io ci sono in questa tua immaginazione”

(So I'm in this imagination of yours)

 You say,and you can’t help but to smile:it seems like today the universe is on your side.

“Se non sei tu la madre dei miei figli chi vuoi che sia?”

(If you're not the mother of my future children,who do you think will be?)