#Carlos Alcaraz fluff

[unforced3rr0r]

GREEN MONSTER || CA

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+18, MINORS DNI

summary: After a painful defeat in Doha, Carlos is less than pleased to see you cheering on his rival.

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, p in v, oral (male and female receiving), unprotected sex (don't try this at home), teasing, edging, degradation.

a/n: Carlos losing irritated me, so you're welcome. Also, I’m going to start a tag list so if you want to be added lmk.

MASTERLIST

Carlos was pissed. From the second he left the court after losing because of a dumb mistake he was seething. Usually, he found a way to take a deep breath, calm down and find the good in every loss.

But not tonight. Usually, you would be waiting for him the second he got off the court, win or loss, ready to throw your arms around him and tell him everything was okay.

But when he emerged from the changing room looking desperately for you and the comfort you touted around with you, you were nowhere to be seen.

He turned to his coach who had the same perplexed look on his face. "¿Dónde está ella?" (Where is she?) Concern laced Carlos' tone.

You hadn't been to Doha before, and with only a few matches done, you didn't know your way around very well. Suddenly Carlos' anger was gone and replaced with worry.

"Ella estuvo aquí hace un momento." (She was here a moment ago.) Juan Carlos began looking around as if you were a racket he had misplaced rather than a person with legs and free will.

Carlos immediately reached for his phone and began texting you, but just as his thumb hovered over the send button, Juan Carlos tentatively called his name.

"Carlitos mira." (Carlitos look.) His brown eyes flitted to the screen in the hallway. Instead of seeing the match between Draper and Berrettini, like the cameras were supposed to be focused on, your face illuminated the screen.

The camera panned out slowly, you smiling widely and clapping as Draper scored a point. Then it hit Carlos. You were in Jack's box.

The worry was long forgotten as the rage returned tenfold seeing Draper smile at his box while you cheered enthusiastically.

You were supposed to be here comforting Carlos in the wake of his loss and instead, you were sat in his rival's box cheering him on.

Carlos picked up his phone again and furiously typed away on his phone. The camera had moved back to the on court action but he spotted you in the background of the shot glancing down at your phone.

Carlos: I’ll see you back at the hotel, then maybe you can explain why the fuck you’re in Draper’s box.

You glanced directly at the camera and smiled, as if you knew Carlos was starting at the tv. He let out a frustrated grunt, “vamos al hotel,” (let’s go to the hotel) Carlos called out to Juan Carlos.

When his coach gave him a questioning look the tennis player just shook his head, picking up his tennis bag and heading to the exit.

Juan Carlos let out a laugh behind the angrily stomping Spaniard.

…

Opening the hotel door your heart beat picked up its pace. You had known that you were tempting fate when Jack asked you to watch his game. You knew it was going to get worse when Jack won and Carlos lost.

When your phone had buzzed in the middle of the game you known it would be him, and the blatantly angry tone had lit your insides on fire.

Carlos was always sexy, but there was something about him when he was jealous, the glint in his eye and the way he held you.

You knew what you were doing slipping into Draper’s box and you couldn’t deny you were slightly excited at what you would face on the other side of the door.

When you walked into the hotel room, Carlos was sat on the sofa, his posture rigid as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone.

At the sound of the door closing his raised his eyebrows but didn’t turn to look at you keeping his focus on his phone where he angrily typed away.

You moved across the room putting your bag away in the bedroom along with your coat. When you returned back into the living room Carlos was watching you, his gaze waiting for your figure to appear in the doorway.

As you opened you mouth to speak, Carlos stood up, his eyes narrowing on you as his brown eyes stared you down.

“Have fun watching Jack?” His snarky tone cut through the silence.

Under his gaze you saw your options play out, you could diffuse the situation and lessen the repercussions, or…

“It was great, he has such an incredible playing style. It was quite an easy win for him really.” Carlos murmured under his breath the annoyance he felt earlier beginning to rise to the surface.

You decided to be brave, moving towards the Spaniard, closing the distance to the point where you could reach out and touch him. His soft brown eyes had sharpened, and with each step you took towards him his shoulder tensed.

"¿Crees que es mejor jugador que yo?" (D'you think he's a better player than me?) Carlos taunted, "¿Quieres sentarte en su palco como su novia para que todos puedan verte?" (Do you want to sit in his box as his girlfriend so everyone can see you?).

He reached his hand out to lift your gaze to his, his grip on your face tight but not painful. You watched as he leaned into your ear his voice low and domineering, "Answer me."

The way he spoke and held your face had you feeling lightheaded, the kind of attitude that Carlos only exhibits when he's truly pissed off. He spends so much time worshipping you usually that to have him standing over you now caused shivers to encompass your body.

"You're a better player than Jack." you whimpered, his other hand finding a tight grasp on your waist.

His hand slid from holding you by the jaw to resting on your neck, "and, do you want to be his girlfriend or mine because I guarantee he can't fuck you half as good as I can."

His words went straight to your core, and you found yourself whimpering at the thought of Carlos proving his point with you.

In the most delicate tone you could muster you nearly whispered, "I want to be yours." His eyes softened briefly before returning to their rage-filled view, the facade cracking just enough to remind you that this was your loving boyfriend standing in front of you.

"Pruébalo, ponte de rodillas." (Prove it, get on your knees). Stood in the middle of the living room you wasted no time lowering yourself to the ground, you held Carlos' gaze the entire time, fluttering your eyelashes as you looked up from the floor.

He stared patiently as your hands reached his shorts tugging them and his underwear down in one pull. He was hard, the tension of the afternoon so far visibly riling him up.

You wrapped your hand tightly around him pumping up and down, precum leaked from the tip and Carlos let out a groan as you moved forward to take him in your mouth.

Immediately his hand threaded through your hair, gripping tightly as you began to bob your head up and down. You licked a stripe from the base of him to the tip, as Spanish profanities poured from his mouth.

You took as much of him as you could in your mouth feeling him hit the back of your throat as you used your hand on the rest of him, you picked up the pace as Carlos praised you.

"Fuck this mouth was made for me and only me." Every word that left his lips hit your core harder, and you knew you were dripping as you tried to keep your attention on Carlos.

His breathing began to get shallower, and he began to direct your head with his hands. You braced your hands on his thighs and he began thrusting in and out of your mouth.

"God, you're such a good girl letting me fuck your face, would you let Jack treat you like this? huh? let him treat you like his own personal whore?"

You moaned into him at his words, as he pulled your head to his abdomen, your nose brushing the hair that you admired every time he worked out shirtless.

Your eyes watered from how deep Carlos was getting himself in your throat, his thrust faltering slightly as you could tell he was close. His moans grew and as you hollowed your cheeks around him and he came down your throat. You felt the hot spurts hit your taste buds the salty taste filling your senses.

Looking up at him you pulled away, smirking and noticeably swallowing. He groaned out of pure attraction, pulling you off your knees and into a desperate kiss.

The hunger was undeniable as his tongue found its way into your mouth, his hand gripping the back of your neck tightly. He pulled away moving to assault your neck, as his lips moved up to your ear he growled, "I'm going to fuck you with my tongue and fingers, and you aren't allowed to cum until I say so, okay?"

Your legs weakened just at the thought of Carlos between them and your mind was foggy with his lips attached to your neck. Briefly, he pulled away from his assault, eyes boring into you. "Yes?"

His demand for a response snapped you slightly from your daze a pleading tone hitting his ears, "Please Carlos."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me." Carlos didn't hesitate to push you down onto the sofa behind you, lowering himself so he hovered over you.

His lips found yours as he roughly kissed you, trailing his lips down your neck, and to the skin on your chest not covered by your top.

His hand pulled on the bottom of your shirt and you moved slightly allowing him to pull it over your head, exposing your black lacy bra to him.

“It’s like you knew exactly where you’d end up.” One of his hands pulled at the cup of you bra allowing you to spill out of it. He roughly pulled on your sensitive nipple as you moaned at the sensation.

He attached his mouth to the top of your other breast, harshly sucking purple marks into your skin which would serve as a reminder of this moment in the days to come.

Each action drew moans from your lips as Carlos' hand trailed down from your breast down your body, his lips following eagerly after.

When he reached the waistband of your jeans he looked at you, his big brown eyes waiting for you to beg for him. His fingers rested on the buttons of your jeans and your head fell back against the sofa in frustration.

"Carlosssss." He flicked the button open, pressing a light kiss to your stomach just above the zipper,

"Dilo de nuevo." (say it again).

"What?"

"di mi nombre otra vez." (say my name again) His lips kissed your stomach again as his fingers slowly pulled down your zipper.

"Carlos." You whimpered, your hands reaching for the pillows on either side of you. He pulled down your jeans sliding them down your legs and throwing them out of sight. Met with black lacy underwear a smirk enveloped his face and he rubbed his thumb softly over the material.

"Matching underwear? Were you planning this?" You smiled briefly, but when his fingers pulled your underwear to the side and ran them through your folds you cried out. Your hands weaved their way into what small strands of hair were long enough to grab onto trying to pull him closer to you.

He laughed at your whining and the way your hips moved, desperate to feel more of his fingers against you. He paused for a moment, watching you squirm leaning forward and kissing your clit.

Your breathing deepened, the anticipation of the moment killing you. Just as you were about to beg him to touch you he thrust his finger inside you.

Loudly moaning his name as his fingers curled inside you, hitting every spot perfectly. His mouth attached to clit, his tongue trailing around it causing your legs instinctively to close around his head.

Every movement made had your hips edging close to him. He moved one of his large hands to hold your leg away, while the other hand brought you to tears.

The sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you was a clear sign of how desperate you wanted him. Your hands tugged harder on the ends of his hair as your abdomen tightened and your back arched.

Feeling your high fighting its way towards you, Carlos added a third finger and sped up his pace. The brutal speed fogged your vision, and your legs began to shake as you teetered on the edge.

Just as you felt your high about to hit, Carlos pulled away leaving you whining in frustration.

"Fuck." Your head fell to the side, looking down at the devilish grin and brown eyes staring back at you. You were still dripping, and as your hips subconsciously moved, trying to find friction with anything Carlos rubbed his thumb over your clit.

The jolt made your legs shake and you groaned in annoyance at the Spaniard having far too much fun teasing you. "Only girls who sit in my box and mine only get to cum."

His nonchalant tone infuriated you, grabbing him by the collar of his t-shirt and pulling him over you.

"Are you going to fuck me, or am I going to have to get Jack to?" You knew you shouldn't have said it, but seeing the way his eyes darkened and the feeling of him gripping your thighs tightly made you sure you were in for the best sex of your life.

"You think he could make you feel half as good as I could?"

"Maybe I should go find out." You made a move as if you were going to get up and go find Jack. Carlos wasted no time, gripping your hips and throwing you over his shoulder. You yelped as he moved to the bedroom and threw you down on the soft sheets.

He pulled his shirt over his head with one hand, exposing his toned torso, his V-line carved into him, disappearing beneath his boxers.

You sat up, you nails trailing him his body other each ridge and dip in his body, your hand slips over his pecs and around his neck pulling him into a desperate kiss. His hand gripped the back of your neck as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

Carlos slowing moved over you while his lips moved to your neck, attacking the skin just below your ear. He pulled away from your neck and moved to pull you underwear from your legs, his hands travelling behind your back to remove your bra.

You lay bare in front of him and suddenly a wave of vulnerability engulfed you. He kissed up from you chest, to your neck and he whispered in your ears,

“Get on all fours for me.” His tone was deep and you know he was serious so you wasted no time moving so your ass was facing the Spaniard.

You head met the pillows and you felt Carlos’ rough grasp on your ass. He ran his hands over the soft skin before slapping it, jolting through your body and core.

He gave three slaps before he settled himself again you, feeling his clothed bulge against your dripping core.

One of his hands moved to slip through your folds collecting your slick with his fingers,

“You think Jack could make you this wet.” You were tired or teasing him, lying there desperate for him inside of you,

“Never, only you can Carlos. Only you.” For a moment it was silent behind you but just as you went to turn your head, Carlos entered you, bottoming out inside.

You both moaned at the feeling of him inside you, no matter how often you found yourself in this position it felt like the first time. He stayed for a moment, leaning down to kiss your shoulders.

"Carlos, please move." You tried to move your hips back against him but his hands steadied your body.

"Apuesto a que Draper no podría hacerte gemir así con sólo estar dentro de ti. Mira lo desesperada que estás." (I bet Draper couldn't make you moan like that just by being inside you. Look how desperate you are.)

You moaned at his words, your whine muffled by the pillows. You begged for him again, and this time, you felt him pull out and ram himself back into you, setting a brutal pace.

You tried to call his name, but incoherent moans were all you were capable of producing. Every thrust seemed to hit deeper inside you.

"Carlos fuck-" you managed to choke out praise as he railed into you, his hand making contact with your ass cheek again. You gasped at the contact, making your core grow wetter.

After teasing you before, it didn't take long before you were nearing the edge, at which point your whines turned into incessant begs for him to let you cum.

Unfortunately, the Spaniard had other plans, pulling out of you and leaving your core clenching around the air. You whimpered, gripping the sheets beside you in frustration before hitting your hand against the pillow.

Carlos flipped you over so he was on top and immediately lined himself up with your entrance again. You tried to move your hips allowing for any friction but it was pointless.

He kissed you roughly then smirked, "Si quieres correrte, será mejor que gimas mi nombre en voz alta, Draper está en la habitación de al lado." (If you want to cum, you better moan my name out loud, Draper is in the next room.)

Suddenly your heart stopped as you saw the shit-eating grin on his face. You may have known what would happen if you went to Draper's box but Carlos had put just as much thought into the payback.

He thrust inside of you again, your legs wrapped around his waist and your hand met his shoulder blade digging your nails into it as he returned to his harsh pace.

You did as he asked and moaned his name loudly with each thrust, his lips finding your neck and attacking it as he focused on how deep he could thrust inside you.

The room was filled with the sound of your moans and the sound of him moving in and out of you, Carlos groaning about how good you felt around him as he picked up his pace.

He moved your legs so they rested on his shoulders and the angle change was earth-shattering, your moans turned to incoherent screams, and his thumb found your clit which had your mind going foggy.

"Fuck Carlos, I'm so close." You cried out, begging that he would actually let you tumble off the cliff you were so nearing the edge of.

"Correte para mi" (cum for me). His words pushed you over the edge, seeing stars as your vision went white and you screamed the Spaniard's name while you came around him.

He fucked you through your high and as you clenched around him his thrusts began to falter and he came inside you groaning. His head fell to the crook of his neck, your legs falling from his shoulders and his arms held up his body.

"Fuck." he grunted into your neck. You took deep breaths as your hand snuck into his hair nails scraping along the bottom of his scalp.

After a moment he pulled out of you and lay beside you. His hand reached your face, thumb caressing your cheek gently. He brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes as he gazed lovingly at you.

"Espero no haber sido demasiado duro." (I hope I wasn't too harsh.) His angry tone from earlier was gone and replaced with the gentle voice you loved so much.

"If I knew you'd fuck me like that I would've sat in Jack's box months ago." Carlos groaned and you laughed, enjoying the moment of peace and laughing at the Spaniard's jealously.

"Jack me va a matar" (Jack is going to kill me) the Spaniard chuckled, leaning across the bed to pick up his phone. He returned to his spot next to you, one hand caressing your hip while the other showed you his phone.

Jack: Bro come on? Could you two be any louder?

Carlos let out a hearty laugh and you covered your face with embarrassment. Jack was a good friend of you both and knowing that he had heard everything that had just happened was not something you wanted to think about.

Carlos moved your hands out of your face, holding your cheek and pulling you in to kiss you. His gentle kiss was the opposite of his early mood but he smiled as he pulled away.

"Eres mia" (You're mine), you pecked his lips softly, looking into the brown eyes you loved so much.

"Yours."

[latin5mamii]

Could you write something about Carlos being super cute and affectionate with you after a match, because after he saw you in the stands he started playing better and ended up winning the game (maybe even saying how much he loves you in the post match interview)?

Family - Carlos Alcaraz

Warnings:only cuteness like always

Summary: You're your boyfriend's lucky charm.

Genre: fluff, Carlos Alcaraz x reader

Author's note: girl i loved writing this!🎀

You should be on court watching your boyfriend play,but somehow you’re still doing your photoshoot for Vogue and you can’t turn them down of course. While you wait for them,you pick up your phone and watch the results of the live match on google. “Fuck,he’s losing” you whisper,wishing you were there to comfort him.

“Alcaraz lost the first set and it looks like he’s losing even the second.It looks bad for him and since it’s only a 3 sets ATP he can’t catch up on the game so easily.Wondering how he’ll do in wimbledon if he plays like this” Says the commenter, in fact he’s not playing well,he knows it and he can’t stand it. How could he let this man win over him?

“Carlos, tienes que concentrarte, intentar jugar mejor y pensar antes de actuar, ¿de acuerdo?” (Carlos you have to focus, try to play better and think before doing something, ok?)

Carlos nods at the words of his coach and comes back on court,hoping to not disappoint the people that he loves,especially his girlfriend.He’ used to win and accepting the fact that he could lose against someone who isn't even in the 10 top rank makes him so furious with himself.

Finally you get to the court and you start going towards the seat reserved for you in the front seats, next to Juanki and his team.Finally Juanki sees you and welcomes you next to him.

"No está jugando bien, ¿verdad?" (He's not playing good, isn't he?)You ask him, hoping for a good response. He shakes his head negatively, and you can't help but think about how bad he must be feeling, especially since you know how he can be so hard on himself. You can't help but support him through thick and thin.

He has now to serve,but all of a sudden he sees you in the crowd. You mime with your lips an "Te Amo" encouraging him with a smile, a comforting smile,hoping that this will help him.

“El esta loco por ti créeme.” (He's crazy for you, believe me)

Juanki says,you can’t help but smile at his words. You start to think how life would seem incomplete without him and on how you’ve been so lucky by founding him, someone who supports you and would always by your side.Sometimes you think you don’t even deserve his love, that he’s too much for you.Of course you support him in everything you can, but he just does it better; on how he holds you in his arms and tells you that everything’s okay.He is a cure for every ailment for you.

You don’t even realize that he has won the second set and he feels more energetic than ever.It feels like he’s playing for his life,and this is one of the things what made you fall in love:He never gives up,no matter what.

He finally wins the match and you’re waiting for him in the room next to the press room conference,with a big screen showing his interview.

“Carlos, we noticed that in the first set of the match you were distracted and really made some unforced mistakes. What do you think changed from the first set to the second and the third where you played so much better?” “Uhm, I would say that that’s because my girlfriend arrived during the second set and let’s say that she’s kinda my lucky charm.”

Everyone laughs at his words and you can’t help but smile and chuckle a bit.

“No seriously,I really do think that’s true;she’s the love of my life,and i could imagine starting a family with her.I just want to say that you’ll always need someone that stays with you no matter what,even if you’re a bit idiot like me”

The press conference ends and you’re on the verge of crying hearing the words that he spent on you.You knew that he loves you,but he’s just so sweet and pure,and you’re a bit emotional. You’re waiting for him in the same room as before,and as soon as he opens the door you can't help but to literally jump on him,with joy tears falling from your eyes.

“¿Por qué lloras amor?” (Why are you crying, love?)he asks, almost worried about you.

"Estoy tan feliz.Gracias por tus palabras sobre mí. Te amo mucho."

(I'm just so happy.Thank you for the words you spent about me.I love you so much)

“Esas palabras son simplemente verdad. Te amo más.”

(That words are just the truth.I love you more)

He says, whispering in your hear.

“De todos modos, hablando de formar una familia, ¿qué tal si empiezas una esta noche?”

(Anyways, talking about creating a family together, how about we start tonight?) "¿Por qué siempre tienes que arruinarlo todo?"

(Why do you always have to ruin everything?)

[rvblos]

nsfw/sfw headcanon for carlos since you have written one for jan?🥰

sfw / nsfw headcanons - carlos alcaraz

warning: this contains nsfw so if you’re not comfortable with it just don’t read it!

notes: my baby carlitos😖

sfw:

- he is the most precious guy to ever set foot on this earth UGH

- he has the biggest heart, always gifting you something (especially flowers🎀)

- he loves taking you out!! you’ve had an argument? nothing a good nice and fancy dinner can’t fix

- he’s the king of yapping change my mind, always babbling abt something whether it’d be his training or new skills he learned on his own but you find it cute so you just sit there and stare at him in awe😌

- he’s the happiest ever whenever he has you by his side, and adores when you go to his matches to show support for your bf

- very good with kids!! they all feel so safe around him and seeing him playing with children gives you baby fever😤

- he is just too funny, whenever he opens his mouth everyone is immediately laughing. he has a really good sense of humor.

- always wanna cuddle, he can’t keep his hand off of you like he’d be doing the most important thing in his life but he HAS to have your hand in his own

- he tried several times to teach you spanish but without success😅 but he looooves hearing your accent when trying to repeat what he said in his native language

- he is loved by literally ANYONE he’s so likeable it hurts

nsfw:

- GIVER GIVER GIVER GIVER

- and i stand by it✊🏻

- i think he’d be too focused on your pleasure to even think about his own

- LOVES giving you head (and it’d be the most toe-curling and back-arching head you have had in your entire life)

- you’d be literally gasping for air as his tongue worked his way into you

- he loves how his body towers over yours (size kink?🤔)

- especially when having you beneath him, your body just looks so small compared to his

- “d’you feel it, cariño?” he’d say slipping in and out of you at an unbearable pace😵‍💫

- you get so horny when he speaks spanish (me too!)

- and he loves seeing you turn all red when he’d say things like “you feel so good around me, amor” or “you’re so tight, bebe” LOCK ME

- his beard is sooo sexy, you love how it tingles your skin when he kisses you

[charlieluver]

First touch (c.alcaraz × fem!reader) word count: 600+, a little something to start with warnings: none (j pure fluff)

Working for barely any money in a cafe in Paris is tiring. Especially when you face the rudest customers who do not have the basic human decency of "thank you"s and "welcome"s most of the time. Another tiring Monday, just a few minutes until your shift ends, and your body is aching in pain from covering the morning shift of your fellow co-worker. Scrolling through your phone, you catch a glimpse of the French Open news. Staring into the picture of Carlos Alcaraz, the young Spaniard lifting up the cup.  "Gosh, I wish I could see him play," you mumbled to yourself. The cafe, being near to the practice courts of the prestigious French Open, was swarmed with players once in a while. You have met a few of them over the span of 2 years you worked here, but your tennis crush, Alcaraz, had never set foot in here, not during your shift. Just as you were going to wrap up and call it the day, the bell rings and the doors swing open. Borderline frustrated, you put on a smile and turn to face the "late" customer. "Hello, how can I— "Could you please give me some ice? My friend is injured on the road," the man said. You could not believe your eyes; it was him, Carlos. Frantic and flushed. You registered what he said and worked swiftly to get some ice in a small plastic bag.  "Here you go. Should I call an ambulance?" Carlos looks at you for a moment and says, "It would be of great help if you could call us a taxi. I don't speak French, so...."  "Of course; come, let's go," you say as you both step out of the cafe. Crouched in front of the shop was a young man in pain, holding his leg. Carlos brings the ice near the injury.  "Here, use this to tie it in place." you said, handing over your handkerchief  "Thanks.". He ties it, and you stand on the side of the road, waiting for a taxi to pass through. In about 10 minutes, with Carlos and his friend in the taxi, his friend says, "Thank you so much for your help." "Yes, thank you so much," Carlos chirps in, flashing a smile at you. "Not a problem," you reply, feeling a blush creeping up your cheek. You watch the car go, and maybe once in a while, working past your shift isn't very bad. ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The next shift that you cover tomorrow was pretty uneventful. A few minutes until your shift ends, you stifled a yawn, waiting for your co-worker to finish her customer's order. One of the last customers came in, and it was none other than the Spaniard.  "Hi, we met yesterday remember? Thank you so much for your help," he smiled. "Not a problem at all," you smiled back, heart fluttering at this exchange. "Oh, and here you go," Carlos says, returning your handkerchief. You smile and take it from his hands, fingers brushing momentarily. It made you feel a small spark. Carlos stood there for a few seconds, as if he was frozen. "Um, do you need help with anything?" You asked, politely. "H-how about a coffee?" "Sure, what type?" "Cappuccino, please." You were placing the order, and from the corner of your eye, you saw Carlos slipping a paper near your station before he went and sat at a table.

You opened the paper and let out a small giggle. It read 

Picking up a pen, you scribbled "Yes Carlos :) ". Taking his coffee order along with the note, you went near his seat and kept them on the table. You smiled at him. He reads the note, and his face lights up. "I will be here tomorrow if you need me" you tell him. "Yes, I will" He smiles. ~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~. this is my first writing so sorry for any mistakes 😛

[cieloclercs]

Okay so abt that Carlitos request maybe she’s in the crowd next to his mum and after a win at Wimbledon (maybe he’s the final winner 🤭) her and his family go down on the pitch to celebrate (kind of in the way footballers do it) and he just kisses her instantly and that’s the moment everyone finds out abt their relationship but the fans love it and maybe then they go on a vacation in Spain or smth like that 🫶🏻 thanks again for being open to write for him and have a good day!!

PS: if you find good fics with him please do tell where 😅

-🪷

hello! hope you enjoy this <3

p.s i found two really awesome carlitos fics you should check out! wimbledon shenanigans by @yungbludz and this blurb by @2manytabsopen

word count. 2.3k

read under the cut!

���𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐨́𝐧 | carlos alcaraz

THE DAY HAS finally arrived: one you’ve had circled in your calendar for weeks, almost as a manifestation that you’ll get to watch it not just as a neutral spectator, but as someone with a true stake in the outcome. The Wimbledon Final. A certain classic, the commentators all say. They’re sure, that no matter who wins, it’s going to be a match for the history books. The current world number one versus arguably the greatest tennis player of all time. Carlos Alcaraz versus Novak Djokovic.

You’re on the edge of your seat from the moment the first serve is taken. It almost feels as if you’re down there on the court, playing the match yourself. The nerves thrumming inside your very veins are enough for it to seem that way. Carlos’ mother is seated to your right, just as tense as you are, gripping the edge of her chair with white knuckles. You reach down to pat her hand reassuringly, partly for her, but mostly for you. Appearing so calm, so certain Carlos is going to do what he does best and win this match helps to quell your own nerves. Even if it’s a façade.

He's worked so hard to get here, you can’t even imagine the agony if he falls short now. So many have put their expectations on him, as this new, rising talent, pegging him to become the next Nadal; it’s a lot for anyone to deal with, but it amazes you how Carlos simply takes it into his stride. He’s inexperienced on grass compared to his competitor (or rather, inexperienced on every surface – this is Novak Djokovic we’re talking about, after all), yet even against those with years and years of tournament experience haven’t been able to beat him. No matter whether it seems the odds are stacked against him or not, Carlos always believes in himself. So you believe in him too. You know in your heart, this may seem like a mountain to climb, but if anyone can reach the summit, it’s him.

There’s a second story running alongside this one, however, and it involves you. Though you’ve been able to call the world number one your boyfriend for almost six months now, the world is yet to know about your relationship. As someone who hasn’t exactly been shielded from the public eye yourself, you both decided it would be healthier to keep everything private while you navigated the early stages of your relationship. Now, you’re both happier than you ever have been, and it feels as though you’re drawing nearer to the big announcement.

Attending Carlos’ match with his family is the first big step. From the moment you sat down with them in their box, you could feel the eyes on you; sense the whispers rippling around the court like shockwaves. Everyone knows who you are, of course – Spain’s golden girl, the child acting star turned Oscar winner at only twenty years of age. You’re a household name not only in your country, but across the whole world. To see you here, spending time with the family of your equivalent in the tennis world, is huge news. This isn’t just a case of some celebrity outing for the day, making an appearance in a private box; this is you sitting with Carlos’ family, laughing with his mother and doting on his little brother. You’re clearly more involved than the average celebrity – the big question on everyone’s lips is how involved?

For the moment, you ignore the masses of eyes on you. You’re here to see Carlos play first and foremost, not answer the newly emerged dating rumours which seem to be spreading like wildfire across social media (it’s barely even been half an hour – the fans sure do catch on quick). All you care about is cheering him on until he emerges victorious, lifting that coveted Wimbledon trophy high into the air. And with each point won that puts him just ahead of his opponent, you feel everything drawing closer to the inevitable end: Game, set, match – Carlos Alcaraz. It takes an excruciating four and three quarter hours of back and forth, but eventually, the dream becomes reality. Championship point won. He drops to the floor with a gasp just as you shoot up from your seat, arms flailing in the air, screaming until your throat is raw. Carlos Alcaraz is the winner of the 2023 Wimbledon Championship.

You’re not even sure it’s allowed when you and his family rush down onto the court, but in that moment, you honestly couldn’t care less. He’s shaken hands with Djokovic, who for once, doesn’t look ashamed to have been beaten – he recognises a worthy champion when he sees one. Then, after doing the same with the umpire, he turns to face his approaching family. The grin you love so much breaks out across his face. You know how important they all are to him. Having them here to witness this no doubt makes it even sweeter.

For a moment you hang back, watching as his father pats him proudly on the back, and his mother holds nothing in reserve by pulling him down to press a loving kiss to his cheek. He spins his little brother around in the air excitedly, and you hear Jaime’s giggles from where you’re standing a few feet away. You’re happy to just watch them for a while, a fond smile playing on your lips. They truly are the most idyllic family. You count yourself lucky to know them as well as you do, and perhaps even one day to be accepted as one of them by Carlos’ side. But you push those thought away, wanting to remain in the present. Right now, you couldn’t be more proud of your boyfriend. Your heart sings with joy for him and his incredible achievement. You’ve always known he is special, but now the rest of the world knows it just as certainly as you do.

It isn’t long before Carlos turns his attention away from his family, searching for you amongst the crowd. You aren’t far away, grinning back at him shyly. You’re aware of the crowd around you, conscious that they are no doubt watching his every move, but when you lock eyes, that doesn’t seem to matter anymore. He closes the distance between you in four short strides, and before you know it, his arms are wrapped around you, lifting you high up into the air as he spins around. You’re laughing gleefully, arms looped securely around his neck as if they belong there. When he sets you down again everything is quiet, despite the crowd still cheering his name.

"Estoy muy orgullosa de ti.” I’m so proud of you. You murmur, hands placed on either side of his face. You eyes are filled with nothing but love and admiration as you gaze up at him. You can see it mirrored back at you in his own.

"No podría haberlo hecho sin ti, mi amor.” I couldn’t have done it without you, mi amor. He replies tenderly. Though you know it’s not strictly the truth. Everyone needs love and support from those they care for the most to get them through the difficult times, but Carlos Alcaraz was born to be a star. He was always going to make it this far – it’s just something you can’t argue with, a little like fate. Still, it’s nice to feel like you had a part to play in that. You are important enough to him to matter in a time like this. That’s the special thing.

"Te quiero, campeón.” I love you, champion. You tell him with a teasing giggle. He seems to light up at the nickname, chest puffing out with pride.

"Yo también te quiero.” I love you too. He murmurs. His hands cradle either side of your face, and when he glances down at your lips, you know exactly what he’s asking. The crowd’s focus is still very much on the two of you, but despite all the efforts you’ve gone to hide your relationship, right now, you don’t care. The subtlest of nods tells him all he needs to know. Carlos dips his head down, capturing your lips in the sweetest kiss you’ve ever known. You think the crowd are cheering; you can hear some whistles, muffled into the background. None of it matters. All you care about is when he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you impossible close – so close you can feel his heartbeat against your own chest.

Even when he pulls away, the spell isn’t broken. There’s something about sharing in the joy of the man you love that simply makes everything else fade away. Carlos looks down at you, his eyes so soft, shining so brightly they could have held the entire universe for all you knew. In a way, he’s thanking you. You’re not sure what for at first, because he’s made it here of his own merit. But then it hits you. Carlos is a simple man. He’s simply thanking you for being here, to celebrate the greatest moment of his life alongside him and his family. At the end of the day, it’s what he cares about most – his family. The look he gives you now is as much confirmation as you’ll ever need. He considers you to be a part of it. Maybe not in name (not yet, anyway), but in heart, in spirit, you mean just as much to him.

Finally, when you’re both returned to reality, he relaxes his grip around your waist, turning to wave at the crowd, shooting them a cheeky wink (which you just know will be all over social media within the next few hours). You can’t help but laugh. Someone calls his name: it’s time to prepare for the presentation, they tell him. He turns back to look at you with a dazed grin. You can’t resist pressing one final kiss to his lips before he’s dragged away – your champion, ready to lift that legendary trophy high in the air. No one deserves it more than him, you think. This is what he was born to do.

liked by tennis_wags and 2,637 others

tennisupdates Carlos Alcaraz and newly confirmed girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N, who attended the match with his family, celebrating his Wimbledon victory on centre court ❤️

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username so cute 😍

username THE it couple

Two weeks later Majorca, Spain

After the chaos and exposure of Wimbledon, a private beach getaway is exactly what both you and Carlos needed. Days stretch away on the sand, swallowed up by the rolling blue tides, and you think this place must be paradise on earth – or maybe it’s the company that makes everything so perfect. You’ve barely moved from your residence along the private stretch of beach Carlos had splashed out on to make your time together as romantic (and paparazzi-free) as possible. You don’t need to. This is your time to relax, to unwind after Wimbledon; and if you don’t deserve that, Carlos certainly does. You’re simply reaping the rewards.

Both your phones lay face down on the kitchen table inside. You haven’t looked at social media once since the final, and you don’t plan to as long as you’re here. No doubt, all your accounts will be blown up with messages about yours and Carlos’ surprise hard launch, both good and bad. You don’t want to ruin this little paradise you’ve created by getting sucked into the media. So, aside from texting or calling your families in the evenings, both yours and Carlos’ phones remain unused throughout your days together. It’s beyond peaceful. He pledges to do this more often – just be together, without the pressure of social media or the press breathing down your necks.

Sprawled out across the sand, you lay on his tanned chest, running your fingers softly up and down the side of his ribs. He hums contentedly at the sensation. You’re both sleepy, the sun lulling you into a daze. Carlos’ lips find your hair occasionally, kissing away your tiredness. His arms pull you in close, so you can feel the warmth radiating from his skin as much as you can feel it from the sun, or the sand beneath you. This feeling, that blooms in your chest and lights up every part of you, is nothing short of belonging. Even if you both had nothing, if you were talentless, penniless, with no place to call your own, you could claim it with each other. Carlos is the man whose arms you want to lie in every day for the rest of your life. You’re only young, but you know it to be true. He’s the one for you.

"El sol se está poniendo.” The sun’s going down. He soon whispers into the dusk, which has crept up on you in the last few hours. You hum some kind of acknowledgement, but keep your face buried deep into the crook of his neck. He chuckles.

"Vamos, cariño." Come on, baby. Carlos murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your face, "Vamos a la cama." Let’s go to bed.

You don’t argue with him when he scoops you up into his arms, lifting you up off the still warm sand as you giggle at the way he spins you around. When your feet touch the ground again, you can’t resist kissing him. It’s short and sweet, but he chases you with his lips when you pull away. You feel your heart soar.

Hand in hand, you make your way inside, to the place which has become your own perfect, little solitude. No one can touch you here, so far away from the rest of the world. You both know you’ll have to go back to reality fairly soon, but for that night, it’s the farthest thing from your minds. For now you’re just young and in love, wrapped up in each other, never wanting to leave. It’s the best place you can be, you think. The only place you ever want to be.

liked by wimbledon and 2,647,936 others

tagged: carlitosalcarazz

yourusername sí, sigo vivo! han sido un par de semanas caóticas en wimbledon, así que hemos decidido tomarnos un tiempo para nosotros mismos antes de que las cosas empiecen a volverse locas otra vez 🫣

a mi campeón - estoy muy orgullosa de ti y de todo lo que has conseguido. nadie se merece esto mas que tu. he visto el trabajo que haces dia y noche para ser la mejor. no ha sido facil, pero que sepas que he creido en ti en cada paso del camino, y seguire creyendo en ti mientras viva. te quiero, carlitos ❤️

yes, i'm still alive! it's been a chaotic couple of weeks at wimbledon, so we've decided to take some time to ourselves before things start to get crazy again 🫣

to my champion - i am so proud of you and all that you have accomplished. no one deserves this more than you. i have seen the work you do day and night to be the best. it has not been easy, but know that i have believed in you every step of the way, and i will continue to believe in you as long as i live. i love you, carlitos ❤️

carlitosalcarazz te quiero siempre / i love you always

yourusername 💕

comments on this post have been limited.

tags: @christianpulisic10

requests are open! send something in if you’d like!

[maxivstappen]

congratulations for 1k, you really deserve It !!

for your event: can i ask for a carlos sainz fic based on "break my heart, and I swear i'm moving on with your favorite athlete" by sabrina carpenter in good graces

thanks xx and ily

౨ৎ YOUR FAVORITE ATHLETE ! ‧₊˚.

౨ৎ 1K EVENT — short n' sweet series (not posted yet) ౨ৎ

pairing — carlos alcaraz x reader / carlos sainz x reader

summary — break my heart and i swear im moving on with your favorite athlete! angst & sweet revenge (again lol)

warnings / disclaimer — none, just my not so perfect Spanish (please correct me)! hope you liked this <3 thank you lots for your support and sorry for my absence - school is really time consuming at the moment :( i'll be updating more frequently again soon — masterlist (not updated sry) / prev. work

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12th of January - TWITTER

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4th of February - @.yourusername ✓ just posted on INSTA !

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,723,981 others

yourusername girls just wanna have fun or whatever 😝 love ya @.alexandrasaintmleux

view all 31,821 comments

user1 omg why did she unfollow carlos?

user2 @.user1 she follows carlos wdym

user3 @.user2 no they mean carlos alcaraz the tennis player, y/n‘s boyfriend (if they’re still together). I suppose you’re an f1 fan?

user2 @.user3 yes haha sorry i didn’t know that, and I don’t watch tennis so that’s why i was confused

alexandrasaintmleux ✓ my only love🥹 never ever leave me again!!

-> ♥️ by @.yourusername ✓

charles_leclerc ✓ @.alexandrasaintmleux what do you mean ‚only love‘?? don’t you think you’re missing someone?

alexandrasaintmleux ✓ @.charles_leclerc so sorry, of course i love my baby leo just as much🥰

charles_leclerc ✓ @.alexandrasaintmleux 😔

user4 oh they’re so HOT

user5 @.user4 CARLOS FUMBLED IF WHAT I‘M THINKING IS TRUE

user6 ONE CHANCE Y/N JUST ONE

landonorris ✓you can finally focus on the better sport now 🙌

-> ♥️ by @.yourusername ✓

user7 @.landonorris WHAT DOES THIS MEANNNNN

user8 @.user7 i think carlitos and her broke up 😭

yourusername ✓@.landonorris only saying that cause i keep beating you at tennis

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5th of February - TWITTER

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5th of February - TEXTS

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6th of February - @.yourusername ✓ just posted on INSTA !

liked by carlitosalcarazz, carlossainz55 and 1,576,971 others

yourusername if i speak i am in trouble 🤭

view all 26,933 comments

landonorris ✓ AHHHHHHH

yourusername ✓ @.landonorris AHHHHHHH

user9 @.landonorris LANDO SPILL

user10 guys alcaraz liked😧

user11 @.user10 HES JELLYYYYYY

alexandrasaintmleux ✓ hope you had the best night ever☺️

yourusername ✓ @.alexandrasaintmleux wasn’t as fun as it would’ve been with you🙂‍↔️

alexandrasaintmleux ✓ @.yourusername let me take you out next time 🤭

carlossainz55 ✓ @.yourusername @.charlesleclerc they’re flirting again😞

charles_leclerc ✓ @.carlossainz55 they will never stop😞

user12 THE LAST PIC

user13 @.user12 MYSTERY GUY SPENT THE NIGHT

user14 @.user13 THATS CARLOS SAINZ

user15 @.user14 i was about to call you delulu but…. i think you’re right

user16 @.user15 guys go get some sleep it’s okay … delulu isn’t always the solulu 😚

user17 HES HOLDING HER SHOES

user18 SOFT LAUNCH BUT WHO TF IS SHE LAUNCHING 🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥

carlossainz55 ✓ ❤️

-> ♥️ by @.yourusername ✓

user19 @.carlossainz55 @.user18 WE KNOW WHO SHES LAUNCHING🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

user20 @.carlossainz55 OHMYGAWWKDKSKALSKSKS

user21 TENNIS WAG TURNED F1 WAG AND IVE NEVER BEEN HERER FOR IT

user22 @.user21 you’ve never been what?

user23 @.user22 you need to learn matching people’s freak fr😣

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A Couple Weeks Later - TEXTS

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20th of October - @.carlossainz55 ✓ just posted on INSTA !

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 3,445,912 others

carlossainz55 won the race and got the girl😉 great work from the team (and me)

view 1 comment

yourusername ✓ love you baby

- comments have been disabled -

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20th of October - @.yourusername ✓ just posted a story on INSTA !

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hope you liked it <3 guys please correct my spanish PLEASEEEEE (the question marks are weird like that on purpose because i’m a lazy bitch)

gen / sns taglist :: @norrisdriver @1655clean

[kwonkissed]

TWO SLOW DANCERS ☆ C.A.

As the Singles Champions of Wimbledon, you and Carlos have to partake in the traditional opening dance. But as sparks fly, judgments must be made. word count: 1.6k - also, mitski reference!! warnings: fluff, the usual friends to lovers shtick, Spanish I remember from my sophomore year

If he was going to be honest, Carlos was tired of holding his trophy. He was tired of the camera flashes, people telling him where to stand, and all the awkward shuffling about. But he was happy all the same. He'd won Wimbledon by sheer will and talent, and nothing, not even his face aching from smiling so much, would take away from his joy. His night could always get better, though.

"You look nice, Carlitos," you called from the top of the stairs. Carlos quickly turned around to see who was speaking to him. He'd known it was you by voice alone, and he couldn't hide his smile as he handed off his trophy and bounded up the stairs.

You weren't wearing your usual windbreaker and skirt, nor your jeans and t-shirt. No, you were wearing finery for your special occasion. The dress was a beautiful golden color with ornate beading along the neckline. Its thin straps and open back allowed your faint tan lines to be on display. You held your trophy casually at your side, appearing to have just come from your own photo shoot.

"Gracias," Carlos said with a smile as he straightened his suit jacket and fiddled with his cufflinks. You made him nervous; he could admit that. But in this light, there was something different about you. Shaking the confusion from his head, Carlos offered his arm. You obliged, and the two of you descended the stairs. "I'm glad you're the one I have to dance with," you say lowly. "You know, instead of some old man." Carlos chuckles as he leads you down the stairs, the two of you arm in arm. "That's nice, but I have something to confess."

"And what is that?" He shyly gazes at you with his big brown eyes. "I can't dance," he whispers. You smile at him and pat his arm. "Don't worry, my friend. Just follow my lead."

You take it upon yourself to explain the steps of the waltz to Carlos as joint trophy pictures are being taken. "It's just a simple three count, honey," you say through your teeth as the photographer snaps his pictures. Carlos side-eyes you and keeps smiling. "Lo que digas cariño," he mumbled. His words make your ears burn.

The two of you struggled not to laugh as you took the other's hand, and the music started. A pair of drained, overly enthusiastic young adults dancing for an eager audience. What person in your position wouldn't let out a small giggle?

"You're almost as tall as me tonight," Carlos whispered.

"Oh, hush," you reply. "Focus on your feet, or I'll have to step on you with these big heels." Carlos took your words to heart, and a calm silence fell over you. Carlos' hazel eyes locked into yours as you led the two of you in small circles across the floor. His eyes are so...captivating, you thought to yourself. You allowed yourself to get lost in them, and the rest of the room melted away. It was just you two. Nothing else mattered. You were so busy thinking about Carlos' eyes that you almost didn't know he was looking into yours the same way: pupils blown, face full of wonder. An overwhelming sense of washed over both of you. Carlos' hand on the small of your back was suddenly heavy. Every flutter of your eyelashes felt like a gust of wind. You smiled at each other, hoping it could be played off as friendliness.

"Everyone give our two thousand and twenty-four Wimbledon champions a hand," a woman said into a microphone. And just like that, the moment was over. The two of you separated and waved at the applauding crowd.

"You weren't as bad as you implied," you said, clapping for your dance partner and looking at your audience. Carlos' face flushed. "Well, I did have a good teacher," he said quietly.

The rest of the night goes as planned. People eat, drink, and make merry, all for you and Carlos. You hear a thousand 'congratulations' and 'you played amazing's, shaking everyone's hands and pressing kisses to their cheeks in gratitude.

At some point, you found yourself sitting at Carlos' table, next to him in fact, watching him laugh and speak animatedly with his hands. He glances at you, subtly inviting you to join in on his conversation, but you flashed him a tight-lipped smile and shook your head. In an instant, you grab your clutch off the table and stand up.

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen," you say politely to the group. Their eyebrows raised a hair, a bit shocked that you'd acknowledged them. You dip down to Carlos' ear and place a hand on his shoulder. "I'm going to get some fresh air," you say softly. Carlos watched your figure retreat into the crowd and out the door.

Weighing his options, the young man stood up, excused himself, and followed you.

The unusually warm London breeze ripped through your dress as you sat down on the stone steps. You watched cars go by and thought about how all of them were going about their lives at...you checked your phone. 12:17. Jesus, where'd the time go? You shrugged, tucking your phone into your clutch and pulling out a small tin box. Bamboo Toothpicks. "Well, a toothpick is the closest thing I'll probably ever get to a cigarette," you mumbled to yourself, rolling the little piece of wood over your bottom lip.

Carlos emerged from the hall. He watched you, steadily chewing on your toothpick and listening to the sounds of the city with your head thrown back. There was something so rugged, so beautiful about you—a young woman full of contradictions. You were graceful yet curt; a loud personality and a quiet mind. Sitting there on the (presumably) dirty ground in a dress that had to have cost thousands of dollars without a care in the world. He was thoroughly intrigued.

It was Carlos' turn to call to someone from atop a flight of stairs. "Out here all alone?" You turned around to look at him. He'd loosened his tie, undone the top buttons of his dress shirt, and had the sort of gleam in his eyes that one can only get from drinking a little too much champagne. Hm, sexy, you thought. You stood and watched as he descended the stairs to meet you.

"What are you doing," he said, sitting down just as you had been a second before. You sat beside him and tucked your chin into your folded knees. The two of you were practically shoulder-to-shoulder. "Nothing, really. Thinking, I guess. Watching. Chewing my toothpick." Carlos smiled at the last part. "Why did you leave? ¿Demasiada gente?," he asked, the words in Spanish slowly drifting off his tongue, like he was talking to himself.

"Si, mi amigo. Demasiados," you answered with a smile. "Too many people too late at night." Carlos' eyebrows rose. "¿Tú hablas español?" he asked, slightly taken aback. You giggled at his surprise. "Solo un poco," you reply casually. The two of you shared a quiet laugh. A strong gust of wind blew a curl into your face; Carlos tucked it behind your ear. "There's so much we don't know about each other," Carlos said gently, fiddling with the hem of your dress and looking at you bashfully. "Yeah, it seems to be that way," you say, pressing a hand to his face, reveling in the way his stubble pricked your palm. "God, I wish I knew what you were like in high school," you whispered. "It would probably explain a lot."

"Cariño mio," Carlos chuckled. You smiled back at him. "We can stay out here. Talk for a little while if you'd like," he said, almost begging you to say yes. You chewed the inside of your cheek as you considered his proposal. It would be so wonderful to sit in the night air and chat with Carlos, it really would. But you had obligations to attend to, something you cursed yourself for typically being so involved and invested in.

"We shouldn't keep the people waiting, Carlos," you said, patting his cheek and flashing him a bittersweet smile. "But I promise, I swear to you, we will talk later." You stood, towering over Carlos' crouched form. "I'll be expecting you to deliver, hermosa," he said, readying himself to stand up. You held out your hands to assist him. He placed his rough, calloused palms in yours.

"Don't worry honey; I keep my promises," you replied assuredly. "Especially when handsome young men are involved." Carlos blushed at your compliment. Satisfied with your arrangement, you turned to the door but hesitated for a moment.

"Here," you said, grabbing your box of toothpicks from your clutch and dropping it into Carlos' open hands. He looked up at you, eternally confused by the action.

"Now I absolutely have to come back and see you," you said, answering his unasked question. "Oh, and before I go." You grabbed Carlos' face and pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling his breath hitch at the contact of your lips to his skin. They were soft and warm, just as he thought they would be.

"Buenas noches, mi amor. Te veré pronto," you whispered.

As you turned and walked up the stairs, Carlos reached for your hand, catching the tips of your fingers with his. An affectionate smile spread across your face as you pulled away, leaving him on the steps to look at your receding form for the second time in one night.

translation:

lo que digas cariño - whatever you say darling

¿demasiada gente? - too many people?

si mi amigo. demaisados - yes my friend. too many

solo un poco - only a little

cariño mio - my dear

hermosa - beautiful

buenas noches, mi amor. te veré pronto - good night, my love. I will see you soon

author's note: there were so many instances where this could have ended and it just didn't lol. will there be a second part? only God knows at this point

[gamesetattach]

Rest and Relaxation

Jannik Sinner x Reader Jannik loves his sleep, he does it a lot and he can do it anywhere. And that trait comes in handy when reader really needs to recover. Set after the Dubai Open, and the beginning of Sinner’s ban, all the way into Indian Wells a bit 

Jannik arrived back in Monaco just a few hours after you did, the quiet click of the apartment door signaling his return. You heard him before you saw him, the shuffle of shoes being toed off, the rustle of a jacket, the familiar sound of his suitcase rolling to a stop.

You were exactly where he expected you to be—bundled into the couch, blanket pulled up to your chin, a half-full mug of tea abandoned on the coffee table. You blinked up at him, heavy-lidded with exhaustion, your body still feeling the exertion of the Dubai Open’s final.

He took one look at you, and your bags still piled off by the entrance, and chuckled while stepping over to press a kiss to your temple. “Couldn’t even make it to the bed?”

You hummed, stretching slightly but making no effort to sit up. “Opting for the least movement possible these next few days.”

Jannik shook his head, amused, before he slipped off his sweater and joined you on the couch without hesitation, pulling the blanket over both of you. His arm settled around your waist, and you turned into him instinctively, sighing into the warmth of his hoodie. “I should be glad you even waited for me to get back before your hibernation,” he murmured, pressing his chin lightly against your hair.

“You should.” You smirked against his chest. “Wasn’t sure if you could fit me in between your skiing and your fashion show appearances.”

His fingers traced small circles against your back. “My highlight is the inbetween with you.”

You didn’t reply, just smiled to yourself and curled deeper into him. He let you.

---

The first morning, you woke up to the sound of Jannik moving in the kitchen, the scent of something warm and slightly sweet filling the apartment. You barely had the energy to lift your head, groaning as you shifted onto your side.

Jannik appeared a moment later, leaning against the doorway, his hair still sleep-mussed. “I made breakfast.”

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “It’s noon.”

“And?” He smirked. “Also your tea’s steeping.”

That got you to sit up, albeit slowly. Your muscles still ached, and Jannik must have noticed, because instead of letting you get up, he disappeared back into the kitchen and returned with a mug and a plate, passing it to you before climbing back into bed beside you.

You sighed dramatically after your first sip. “Okay. You get a pass… it’s just how I like it.”

Jannik huffed a quiet laugh, settling against the pillows, his arm stretched out so you could rest against him as you drank. “Good to know I have some use around here.”

For most of the day, you both lounged around in bed. Jannik had planned to go out, maybe hit the gym, but the moment you draped yourself over him with a heavy sigh, he made the easy decision to stay put.

At one point, you both attempted to watch a movie. An hour later, the screen had dimmed, long since idle, while the two of you dozed in and out, bodies tangled beneath the blankets. Every time one of you shifted, the other adjusted accordingly—Jannik pulling you closer when you turned away, you pressing your face into his hoodie when he rolled onto his side.

“You sleep too easily,” you mumbled against him at one point, your words muffled by the fabric.

He hummed, half-awake. “You’re the one who started dozing off first.”

“I'm adapting to my environment.”

Jannik let out a soft chuckle, his hand finding yours beneath the blankets, fingers idly tracing along the back of your palm. “Good excuse.”

“Great excuse.”

You felt him smile against your hair before sleep pulled you both under again.

The time passed too quickly. Three days together, just enough to fall into the rhythm of one another, would have to be just enough to feel like the outside world didn’t exist for a little while.

---

The next day was filled with more of the same—the same meaning not much of anything.

The morning stretched into the afternoon in the way it always seemed to when you relaxed with Jannik—time slipping somewhere beyond your reach, unimportant in the grand scheme of things. You stirred first, barely aware of the world outside the cocoon of blankets, only vaguely conscious of the way sunlight had crept through the curtains, painting lazy patterns on the sheets.

Jannik was still wrapped around you, his breathing deep and steady, face half-buried against your shoulder. He hadn’t even made the effort to shift when you moved, only tightening his hold like he could keep you from acknowledging the start of the day.

You made a half-hearted attempt to free yourself, stretching your legs beneath the sheets, but Jannik grumbled in protest, pulling you closer. His voice was hoarse with sleep. "Where are you going?"

You let out a quiet laugh, your fingers finding their way into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. "Nowhere, I’m just waking up."

"Well, don’t."

You exhaled through your nose, amused but not disagreeing. You should get up, probably, but the warmth of the bed, the comfortable weight of him, the slow, heavy feeling of rest still clinging to your limbs—it was too good to leave behind just yet.

Jannik cracked one eye open, tilting his head just enough to look at you, expression lazy and content. "You make fun of me for sleeping in, but look at you now."

"I’m recovering," you murmured, tracing the curve of his shoulder with your fingertips. "This is part of the process."

He hummed, eyes already slipping shut again. "Exactly why we shouldn’t move."

You didn’t argue. Instead, you turned into him, letting his warmth pull you back under. The morning—no, the afternoon—could wait a little longer.

---

It was much later when you stirred again, this time with more intent. Jannik was still half-asleep, one arm draped over your waist, fingers curled loosely against your ribs. He was impossibly warm, the slow rise and fall of his breathing steady against you.

You shifted slightly, pressing closer, letting your lips brush against his collarbone, lingering just enough for him to stir. He hummed, not fully waking, but his fingers flexed against your skin in response. Encouraged, you trailed a line of lazy kisses up his neck, nipping lightly at the curve of his jaw.

Jannik let out a slow breath, but this time, instead of settling back into sleep, he moved into you. His arm tightened around you, pulling you against him in one fluid motion, his lips already finding yours before you could even think to tease him further. He was still warm with sleep, slow but sure in the way he kissed you, like he had been waiting for you to do exactly this.

His hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers tracing along your spine, pressing you closer as he shifted fully onto his side. "Thought you agreed  to sleep more," he murmured against your mouth, though his grip on you said otherwise.

"Guess I changed my mind." Your hand dipped between you two to rest over his crotch. “You complaining?”

Jannik chuckled, but the sound quickly turned into a low groan when you pressed your palm into him. The groan eased into a pleased hum as you dragged your hands over his chest, nails grazing lightly in the way you knew he liked. His own touch became more responsive, his lips pressing slow, lingering kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat, hands tracing familiar paths across your skin.

Any last traces of sleep were gone now, lost in the warmth between you, in the easy way he fit against you, like this was just as much a part of the slow mornings as the tangled blankets and stolen hours of extra rest.

By the time either of you thought about getting out of bed, the afternoon sun had already shifted, casting long golden streaks across the sheets.

Jannik pressed a final, lazy kiss to your shoulder, his voice still thick with a different repose now, undeniably satisfied. "Now we can get up."

You huffed a quiet laugh, nudging your nose against his jaw before rolling on back on top of him. "Sure about that?"

---

On your third and last morning, the sun peeked through the curtains just enough to bathe the bedroom in a warm glow, stretching across the bed where you and Jannik were sprawled out, fully committed to your streak of doing nothing.

Jannik laid on his stomach, one arm draped lazily over your waist, his face half-buried in the pillow. You were on your back, legs tangled with his, flipping through a book you had absolutely no focus for. Every now and then, he’d shift, stretching slightly before settling right back into you, sighing like it was the hardest thing he had to do all day.

“You asleep again?” you murmured, closing the book and turning onto your side.

“Almost,” he mumbled, voice thick with drowsiness. “But you keep moving.”

You smirked, tracing a light pattern along his back with your fingertips. “Not my fault. You’ve practically fused yourself into me.”

Jannik let out a low hum, clearly unbothered, his arm tightening slightly around your waist. “You like it.”

You exhaled a small laugh, nudging your nose against his shoulder. “Maybe.”

For a while, neither of you spoke, lost in the comfort of each other, of the slow afternoon stretching into evening. The scent of fresh air drifted through the slightly cracked window, mingling with the warmth of sleep and stillness.

At some point, Jannik turned onto his side, facing you fully, eyes barely open. His fingers brushed against your wrist, tracing the delicate lines there, his touch so light it almost tickled.

“Sore still?” he murmured.

You nodded slightly. “Only a little, it’s gotten better. I’ll be ready after today.”

Jannik shifted, pressing his palm against your thigh, kneading his fingers in small, rhythmic circles over the muscle. You let out a quiet hum of approval, relaxing under his touch.

"How are you so good at that," you sighed.

"You say that like I don’t do this all the time."

"Exactly," you mumbled, eyes slipping shut. "Don’t stop."

Jannik chuckled, his fingers working over the knots in your legs, slow and deliberate. He didn’t stop. And as the minutes ticked by, neither of you bothered acknowledging that the day outside was still passing—that soon enough, this stretch of time between tournaments would run out.

For now, this was all that mattered. Jannik’s hand rested on your thigh, fingers tracing absentminded patterns against your skin, putting off the packing you had to do for the next tournament. The next flight.

Instead, you let yourselves exist in this in-between space, wrapped up in the quiet of each other, content to let time move without you for just a little longer.

---

So you made your way to California, and took Jannik’s rich sleep schedule with you.

Normally, he was disciplined about his sleep. Generous even. His whole routine depended on rest—training, recovery, matches, everything hinged on him getting the hours he needed. And he usually allowed himself the luxury of sleeping in all the way up until he absolutely had to get up. But for the past week since you'd left, sleep had been a disaster. His body was in Monaco, but his mind was running on Indian Wells time.

At first, he tried to keep things normal. Told himself he’d check your scores in the morning, watch the replay after practice. But then he stayed up late, refreshing his phone every few minutes, telling himself just one more set. Then he started setting alarms—first for the start of your match, then for set breaks, then just to be safe, he kept the stream open the whole time.

Tonight was no different. He had gone to bed early, trying to bank some sleep, but his alarm jolted him awake in the middle of the night. 3:30 AM. Just enough time to groggily grab his phone, prop himself up against the pillows, and open the live stream.

The apartment was still, the only sound coming from the faint hum of the match through his earbuds. He didn’t bother turning on the lamp, letting the glow of his phone and laptop screen illuminate the dark room. His duvet was kicked to the side, one pillow tucked behind his back, his posture somewhere between sitting up and slumping over in exhaustion.

You were in a third set. Again. And Jannik could feel the tension in his own body, his jaw tightening every time you missed a first serve, his fingers tapping against the comforter in time with your footwork. He wasn’t just watching—he was playing the points with you, leaning slightly forward with every deep rally, shoulders tensing when a shot clipped the net cord.

You broke serve. He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. Come on, close it out.

When you finally did, after what felt like the longest rally of the match, he let his head fall back against the headboard, exhaling like he had just played the point himself. His phone buzzed immediately with a match update, as if he needed it.

Jannik Great play!! Good job!

Jannik Way too stressful though

He stared at the messages for a second before adding another.

Jannik How am I supposed to sleep after that?

Your reply came a few minutes later.

You That’s tennis, Sinner.

Jannik Trim it down for my sake

You Oh? Should I lose next time?

Jannik No. 

Jannik Just finish in two sets. Please

He tossed his phone onto the pillow beside him, scrubbing a hand down his face. His whole schedule was a mess. He was supposed to wake up for training in a few hours, but instead, he was catching matches at ungodly hours and then trying to nap after. Now, it was past 6 AM, the match still looping in his head, and he already knew practice was going to be miserable.

His phone buzzed again.

You Go to bed

Jannik huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. Like he could get back to bed after how much your matches spiked his energy.

---

When he finally rolled out of bed, it wasn’t really morning so much as an in-between state of exhaustion. He had slept in chunks—three hours before the match, another hour after, and now he was regretting all of it. His whole body felt off, his muscles sluggish, his mind still stuck somewhere between sleep deprivation and adrenaline.

He made it through practice, barely, though his coach eyed him when he yawned in the middle of a drill.

"Late night?"

“Early morning.”

Simone simply nodded. He knew where Jannik’s priorities lay, there was no use pretending otherwise.

Jannik's footwork felt heavier than usual, his usual precision just slightly dulled. He knew his coach was watching, waiting for him to admit what was obvious. But he pushed through, relying on muscle memory, already knowing that no matter how tired he was, he'd do the same thing again in a couple of nights.

By the time he dragged himself back to his apartment after training, every muscle in his body felt sluggish. He dropped his bag by the door, kicked off his shoes without much thought, and immediately collapsed onto the couch.

He knew he should eat. Knew he should ice his legs. But instead, he grabbed his phone, intending to set it down and get some actual rest, only to see the unread messages waiting for him.

You Did you catch up on sleep at all?

Jannik I’ll sleep after the Miami Open

Jannik Or when you’re back with me

You Jannik, if you keep this up

You You’re going to fall apart before I even get to Miami

Jannik I’m pacing myself

You You’re absolutely not

You You default to 9 hours of sleep usually…

Jannik That’s not the point

Jannik Point is, you’re in the quarterfinals.

You, your game, any movement you made on court or in tournaments. It was his favorite thing. He let the thought settle, a small, tired smile pulling at his lips. As much as he complained, as much as his sleep suffered, he wouldn’t miss this for anything.

Your next reply came in after a few minutes, like you were thinking about what to say.

You You WILL crash 

You But I appreciate you

Jannik exhaled, sinking deeper into the couch. His eyes felt heavy, his body finally catching up to its own exhaustion, but even as sleep pulled at him, he knew exactly what would happen next.

A couple of nights from now, he’d do it all over again.

Because some things—like missing sleep, like watching you win, like waiting for your name to show up in his messages—were worth it.

Jannik Anytime

---

This was going to be a blurb, but I added a little more meat to it and hopefully that makes up for the fact that I’m missing a fic this week.

Not sure how I feel about text-correspondence heavy segments, but this is all I got. I need my own recovery weekend tbh, also I’m bitter about losing an hour to daylight savings... Also, originally had reader as the winner of the Dubai Open, but decided against Mira Andreeva erasure sorry Clara Tauson

Alright alright I’m done xx

[sherryflavoured]

Morning cuddle with big ben.

(Here is a little drabble since I cant finish my main one shot. :))

Ben had always been a very sleepy boy, so the noise of the alarm clock was so unbearable that it surprisingly managed to wake him up. The girl in his arms seemed to be awake for a while, and the expression on her face did not seem to be happy. She was trapped in her boyfriend's arms, unable to move, just listening to the horrible sound of the alarm clock that was placed on the bedside table that Ben's back was turned to, and the brunette's snoring that was destroying her ears. "What is that noise?" he mumbles, his voice hoarse and annoyed. "The alarm, Ben, it's been ringing for half an hour." "And why don't you turn it off?" The boy's sleepy, confused expression just made her roll her eyes, thinking what a fool her boyfriend was when he was asleep. "Maybe because you've got me trapped in your arms?" the moment she said that, Ben let her go immediately, but she didn't move to turn off the alarm, she ran to the bathroom, her bladder about to explode. "What are you…? ma'am your something." he frowned, confused by his girlfriend's movements. he reached for the clock to turn off the alarm and lay back down, waiting for her to come out of the bathroom. "You need to stop trapping me in your arms, Ben…" she said as she opened the bathroom door. "I almost pissed myself in there." Ben moves to give her some space in the bed as he laughs, she trapped in and lay at Ben's side, resting her head on his shoulder as he passed an arm around her waist. "Always so exaggerated, my love…" She and Ben lay in bed for a while longer, both very relaxed and rested from the busy night before. Ben had played a small local tennis match and then they had gone out to dinner, no matter how tired the boy was, he insisted on taking her out to dinner. They had only started dating a few months ago, but had been too reluctant to make it official due to Ben's busy schedule. What neither of them expected was the arrival of Ben's parents, as both had left the day before to celebrate a small family party that Ben had skipped, and according to Ben's parents' words, both were to return two days later, not the next morning as it was happening now. "Ben...what's that sound?" The boy's face seemed to have gone through every possible color, adrenaline started coursing through his veins and they both jumped out of the bed as if it was on fire. "my parents..." The girl's eyes widened like saucers, her hands began to tremble and her heart pounded in her chest. "what!?...but you said the wouldn't come until tomorrow!" she whispers loudly "I know, I know!...fuck...what do we do?" he turns to look at her, ironically, because the house was his and the parents were his, not hers. "why do you ask me that, shelton!? they are your parents!" To make matters worse, they were both half naked, but their heads were so full of panic that they couldn't even fix that. They only came out of their bubble when Ben's mother's voice echoed down the hall and Ben pushed the girl to hide under the bed. Ben's mother's face peeked through the door of Ben's room and the brunette sat on the bed trying to hide his nervousness. "Hey Mom…"

"Hey honey…im sorry we are this early but there were a lot of people at your aunt's house and your dad and I were so uncomfortable…" The girl under the bed did her best not to make any noise, even though the space was so small. "No, don't worry Mom…I'm glad you're both here" of course Ben's mother noticed the nervousness in her son's voice, and of course she had to ask. "Ben, is everything okay?…why do you seem so nervous?" "No, no, everything's fine, I just…I just woke up and…I had a bad dream," which is the worst excuse you can ever give someone."Oh honey…" Obviously Ben's mom was worried so she entered the room completely, she walked over to Ben and sat down right next to him. Ben's heart rate increased and all he could do was accept his mother's hug. "I'm fine Mom…you don't have to do this…" his voice was muffled and shaky, his girlfriend knew immediately that everything was fucked when she saw the other pair of feet along to Ben's.

So, in just one second, things got even worse: the girl under the bed made a wrong move and his head hit the wood of the bed, leaving only the evidence that someone was in the room. Ben tried to cover it up with a cough, but the damage was already done. "What was that?" "Nothing!" The look on Ben's mother's face was one of suspicion combined with a frown. "Ben…what was that noise?" she spoke slowly and treathningly. "Shit." was all Ben could say as a sneeze was heard…under the bed. "I'll give her 10 minutes to get dressed…and the same for you too." were his mother's words when she realized the real situation. the older woman walked out of the room downstairs and Ben just stayed sitting on the bed as his girlfriend crawled out from under the bed. "We're fucked, aren't we?" Ben just shakes his head and pulls her into his arms to calm her down. "It's okay baby…they'll understand, I'm sure they will" she rests her head on his shoulder as he caresses her hair. The ten minutes passed faster than the thought and they only start to move when Ben's mom's voice is heard again. "You two better get downstairs before I come and get you!" the couple immediately begin to dress with a deep blush and fear running through their veins. Ben's dad had an amused smile on his face as he watched the whole show, he knows his son perfectly.

___________________________________✿______________________________________

Note: hi! this is my first drabble posted and i got to confess that it take me more time than expected. I'm currently making a one shot, which I had planned from the beginning, but the plot got too long, so it won't be ready for now. I decided to make a small drabble to introduce myself and here it is.

ptsd: If you want to make any adaptation or translation, write me to the DM to ask for permission.

[blackbat05]

To celebrate and prepare for the nightmare on Sunday!🤡

Tagging: @2manytabsopen @wimbledonstrawberry (please let me know if you’re not comfortable again with tags but would like to thank y’all for the ideas and validation😬)

Gryffindor! Carlos x Reader (your house of choice)

I will continue my headcanon of Carlos being a Beater on the Qudditch team.

Insanely popular with girls.

But he’s follows you everywhere. I mean EVERYWHERE after you stood up to some nasty Slytherins on the train during your first year. Baby wants to return the favor now that he’s no longer the little boy.

Yes, I headcanon that Carlos comes from a muggle born family.

You’re not as good in Qudditch as he is. You prefer activities which didn’t require as much contact (and injuries).

Reading. You always have a book in your hand. If not, Carlos will always find you in the library after his practice ends!

Causing you and him to run out of the library as Mdm Pince uses her magic to cause your ink bottle, quills and books to chase after the both of you. You swore the book slapped Carlos’ rear end as you reached the door.

“Carlos! I was almost finishing that last chapter of the book.”

“Heh, sorry.”

You can’t stay mad at him.

You are each other’s biggest supporter!

If you’re from a different house, you always turn up for his matches and cheer for him. Of course if he’s playing against your house, you cheer quietly but he knows you’re supporting him.

You’re not as smart as Hermione but you can hold your own academically. But there are times you tend to push yourself too hard, especially during exam season.

Carlos comes back from training to see you almost breaking down into tears as you tried to memorize the 12345 potions.

Did I mention Carlos is an unregistered Animagus?

A very cute golden retriever of an Animagus? He’s in the early stages of mastering his full form so he takes the shape of a puppy.

You don’t notice a ball of fur trotting his way over until he sits in your lap and makes himself comfortable.

He knows you have calmed down as your breathing goes back to normal. You pat him rhythmically and gently, your racing mind slowing down.

“Thanks Carlos.” You smile as the two of you sit beside the crackling fireplace.

[slutforln4]

𝐋𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐲’𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭💌

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧🤍

[unforced3rr0r]

THE DEAL || CA

———————————————————————

part 1 of ??

summary: Carlos hated having a PR manager especially one who was his age. Convincing her to leave was the best plan he'd ever had, but what happens when he realises he doesn't want her to go when it's too?

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warnings: enemies to lovers, kind of asshole Carlos

a/n: this is going to be a series, I’m excited about it!! Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be on the taglist!

MASTERLIST

Being Carlos Alcaraz's PR manager was not for the weak. The job description seemed like it would be a breeze and when your boss had suggested switching F1 drivers for tennis players you really believed you’d be getting the quieter deal.

You’d occasionally watched tennis and it seemed the biggest issue you’d face was a broken racquet.

Carlos should’ve been even easier, he didn’t have a girlfriend and never seemed to be pictured with any women so the most frustrating part of the job was gone.

But Carlos didn’t want a PR manager. He certainly didn’t want a PR manager that was his age telling him what to do and how to act.

The first time you met you thought you’d caught him on a bad day not recognising the cold brown eyes stare watching you.

You’d prepared for your job, watching interviews and clips of Carlos before you started and the arms crossed man that soon in front of you was not the ball of sunshine from the videos you’d seen.

You had to admit you’d been looking forward to the job at first, a funny, charismatic, attractive tennis player should’ve been fun. You’d seen the way Carlos treated him like family and you were expecting the same attitude.

But quickly things turned. You’d watch training frequently, observing from the sidelines picking up the terms and technical parts of his game for notes and interviews.

Carlos would be laughing with Juan Carlos or his brother or one of the other members of his team when his eyes would meet yours.

In a second his eyes would go from lighting up to narrowing in on you, his laugh disappearing and posture going rigid.

At first, it was manageable, your job could mostly be done from a distance and you could deal with hardened stares.

You thought it would be temporary, that once he realised you were here to stay you’d finally get to meet the Carlos everyone else did.

But it seemed with every interaction his facade grew. A team dinner after Turin you just so happened to be on the furthest end of the table, and while Carlos took the time to talk to his entire team you found yourself left out of the conversation.

Juan Carlos spent months reassuring you that Carlos would get over it but the winter break was ending and with a new season on the horizon you didn’t know how much more you could take.

You were starting to get exhausted by Carlos constantly making your life more difficult.

You were missing deadlines because he wouldn’t give you answers to questions, doing damage control when he posted near nudes on the internet and made sure reporters didn’t piss him off with dumb questions.

Every week that went by you slowly lost the confident attitude the team had got used to seeing, quietly sat in the corner working away rather that trying to involved.

Juan Carlos had noticed the shift in demeanour but he feared there wasn’t much he could do. It was between you and Carlos to figure out.

...

It was the weekend before the Australian Open when you were ready to snap.

The time difference was rough, with your eyelids feeling heavy but sleep escaping you. You sat surrounded by work that you needed to done, while your room called your name.

The day had already been too long, landing in Australia at seemingly the crack of dawn when you realised your bags hadn’t made it to Australia with you.

You’d spent three hours arguing with airport staff when you decided to give up and hope they found their way to the hotel.

You went straight to watching Carlos train, taking media photos and organising some content for the day. That in itself was excruciating as everything you asked him to do took ten times longer than it should’ve.

But now you were sat in your hotel, tired and drained and desperately needing a change of clothes.

You were trying to organise Carlos' media plan for the first week of the tournament, but trying to get him to respond to any of your messages was infuriating.

You needed his answers to the pre-planned questions so you could check them over and give him some nice talking points about off-season but every time you checked your messages you were met with 'delivered'.

It wasn't late, but the jetlag was beginning to hit you which was feeding into your anger. Every second that Carlos ignored your messages was a second you were missing sleep.

Just as you were ready to give up assuming he’d gone to sleep, you received a notification that he’d posted on his Instagram story. That was your last straw.

You audibly groaned, slamming your laptop shut and storming out of your room with it under your arm. You marched yourself to the elevator angrily tapping your foot as the elevator seemed to move at the slowest pace ever.

The ding echoed in your brain, and as you stepped out you were hit with a new wave of anger. You heard his dumb laugh echoing through the walls. This dumb, annoying, stupid tennis player was laughing while you had been begging for him to respond to a simple message.

You stormed down the hall, your chest angrily pounding. You were at the end of your tether. You were so tired of dealing with this man baby.

It had been months of being ignored, ostracised and treated like you had some kind of contagious disease and you were over it.

You stood before his door and knocked repeatedly. You heard him call out that he was coming and you prepared yourself to greet him.

The door swung open, a cheesy grin on his face as he turned see who was at the door. The second he clocked you it faded and was replaced with a nonchalant stare.

He opened his mouth no doubt to ask why you were here but you pushed past him into the hotel room. Juan Carlos and a few other members of the team were in the room and immediately as they saw you they went silent.

"if you wouldn't mind. Alcaraz and I need to get some work done and clearly, he can't handle any distractions." A few of the guys snickered and they didn’t waste any time standing up and heading for the door.

You heard Juan Carlos wish the Spaniard luck as he walked past. Laughing as he patted him on the back. The door closed and Carlos scoffed as you situated yourself on his sofa.

"¿Qué carajo?" (What the fuck?) The Spaniard's tone made you laugh, a dry, fed-up kind of laugh.

"What the fuck indeed. Sit down, shut up and only talk when I tell you to." He looked at you utterly bewildered.

"You know you're supposed to work for me? not the other way around." God you wanted to kill him. You stood up angrily turning to face him with fire in your eyes.

"Funnily enough, that is what I'm trying to do. That is what I have been trying to do for months but for some reason you want to make that as hard as humanly possible for me. Frankly, I'm fed up so sit the fuck down. please."

"No." He stood his ground and crossed his arms as you really considered attacking him.

"I'm sorry what?"

"I don't want to." He turned to head to the small kitchenette, turning on the coffee machine that sent an infuriating buzz throughout the room.

“I don’t want to be stood here, but because you can’t answer a simple text, I am. So please let me do my goddamn job for once.” He scoffed, and leaning against the counter,

“Maybe I didn’t answer your text because I don’t want to answer the questions, ever thought about that?” His stupid grin made you want to throttle him.

"Well Carlos Alcaraz, the almighty. Unfortunately for you I need those answers so how do I get you to sit there and answer these dumb questions." your sarcasm permeated the room.

He paused for a moment, a slight hesitation as he reached for the mug on the side. He turned slowly to face you, a look of pure genius on his face.

"Quit." He moved around the counter calmly, standing in front of you. You hadn’t been this close to the Spaniard since the day you met him.

The invisible 3 feet rule seemingly being implemented by him after the first day.

"What?" Your confusion clearly entertained him as he smiled an evil, sort of confronting smile.

"I'll do what you want for the entire tournament. But at the end of it, you quit." You paused, the tension from the last few months piling up on your shoulders. Did he really hate you that much?

You weren't a quitter, you believed in working hard and figuring out issues. But Carlos had been treating you like an outcast for months and if it meant never having to deal with him again you were seriously considering it.

"One question?" Carlos raised his eyebrow and he zoned in on your focused demeanor.

"seguir." (go on.)

"Why do you hate me so much?" His calm demeanour faltered slightly, something flashing through his gaze that you couldn't quite decipher before it was quickly replaced with indifference.

He grabbed the mug, and moved to the sofa, lazily sitting down. His arm rested along the back and he glanced up at you.

"I don't need a PR manager and I'm sick of you treating me like a child when you're my age." The answer nipped at the back of your brain. You rarely treated him like less that he deserved and if you did it was only ever in retaliation.

"Maybe if you acted your age I wouldn't have to." He scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance.

"It's clear you don't want to be here either, just take the deal." You dropped yourself onto the sofa. Your laptop sat beside you and you let your head fall into your hands. You were defeated.

"I wanted to be here." You didn’t look up but if you had you would’ve seen Carlos’ gaze soften, a pang of guilt hitting him before it was quickly shoved away.

You thought back to your previous job. Travelling the world with F1 drivers had been difficult but those guys had become your friends, you loved your job and you had fun. You wanted this to be like that but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen.

Maybe it was time for you to find something else.

“Fine you win.” You let your hands fall to your sides, your gaze lifting and meeting the brown eyes that made your life a misery.

"I'll quit at the end of the tournament, but you have to give full energy to everything and I need a pair of pyjamas, my luggage got lost.” His eyes lit up with some sort of amusement. At your troubles or you’d you were sure but you needed a solution and he offered one.

Carlos smirked, the first time he'd even remotely smiled in your direction. He moved himself within touching distance of you, reaching out his hand for you to shake.

You interlocked your hand with his, his eyes baring down on you.

"Deal."

————————————————————————

taglist: @champagnecoastca

[latin5mamii]

Skincare Time - Carlos Alcaraz

Warnings: cute carlitos

Genre: fluff, Carlos Alcaraz x you

Summary: Does your boyfriend really think he can save himself from his Skincare time?

It's a rainy evening in London, you're in your hotel room and you don't know what to do: your boyfriend is taking a post-workout shower, and obviously you can't even go out with your girls because you certainly don't want to catch a fever in the wimbledon season, you can't even go to dinner with your boyfriend since Juanki specifically told him to rest and prepare for next week's matches. You've been scrolling on tik tok for so long now, and you're still sooooo bored. Your boyfriend gets out of the shower and finally something pops out of your mind.

"No puedo rebelarme, ¿verdad?" (I can't rebel, right?)

Asks your boyfriend, lying on the bed and with two hello kitty clips in his hair. He's resigning himself now, because if you want to try your skincare products on him no one can stop you.

"obviamente no" (Obviously no)

You say with a smile and a chuckle, since he's not used to this type of treatment.

"Me veo estúpido" (I feel stupid)

 "En realidad eres muy lindo" (I think that you're really cute)

 He’s so cute like this, and you’ve prepared a lot of other things to make his skin smooth and beautiful.

“¿Ah, sí?” (Oh Yes?)

The last part of this torture is the new hello kitty mask, and you’re ready to take some photos of yourselves with matched face masks.You’re happy and couldn’t ask for more than a cute hello kitty themed boyfriend.

“Gracias por tenerme paciencia amor” (Thank you for being patience) you say kissing his now perfect cheek.

"Todo para hacerte feliz, mi amor" (Everything to make you happy,my love)

[rvblos]

Sub!carlos is challenging 🫣🫣

But imagine Carlos being Carlos for the cameras with his usual bright smile, spanish accent and with his expansive and easygoing vibe but then he comes home to you and turns into another man who simply venerates you and does everything to please you like simple tasks and just loves it when you praise him and he’s literally blushing like a schoolgirl 🤭🤭

“Here, I made you coffee,”

“Thank you baby, you’re so good to me”

“🥺🥺anything for my baby,”

it’s a bit trash because I am not used to making requests so let me know if you want me to send another one

absolutely agree with this !! he’s the biggest giver ever (not only in a sexual way) but his love language his doing favors for the ones he loves !!

“i bought you this.” and he’d hand you one of the books you we’re looking forward to reading for the longest time.

“baby, you didn’t have to.” you’d say looking at him with eyes full of love, taking the books in your hands.

“i wanted to.” he’d smile softly.

“i love you, i don’t deserve you.”

and like hearing it for the first time he’d blush so hard and he’d try to hide his cheeks from you.

OR

loves when you praise him during sex :(

“oh, you’re making me feel so good, so so good.”

he’d try his best not to stop his movements cause he just gets too weak anytime you compliment him.

“yeah, just like that.” you’d moan bouncing up and down on his lenght, making him shiver so badddd.

he’s just the sweetest ever to you^^

[charlieluver]

Losing the hard way

(c.alcaraz ×fem! reader) Word count: 870+ Warning: none

__________. ________________. __________

"Championship point, Djokovic" How you wished it was Carlos's name instead . You are in the audience box, seeing your boyfriend barely hold his anger and sadness in. He fought so hard to reach here, you know it, the world saw it. "Game, set , match Djokovic." The Serbian crowd roared with joy , Djokovic kneeling to the ground, soaking in his lifelong achievement. Your attention snapped to Carlos, seeing him sit on the bench, towel over his face. Your heart broke seeing him, who's mental game so strong, weak and vulnerable like this. The Spanish reporter was interviewing him currently, and it saddens you when Alcaraz says how he has let Spain down. He could never do such a thing, unknown to him, the Spaniards with pride, are watching him play at the Olympic finals at such a young age. He could not keep it any longer and broke down during the interview. At this point you just wished you could hug him, wipe his tears, but the medal ceremony was still left. "Baby just a bit longer," you mumbled, hoping he knew you are just beside him, waiting.

Back to the hotel room, you waited for him to return. "He must be held up by people to congratulate him" you think. After a while, scrolling through your phone, you see many posts and articles, talking about how he could have easily won the match against Djokovic. Frustrated, you lock your phone and lie down on your bed. A soft knock grabs your attention as you run to open the door. Carlos. "Hey champ, celebrations over?" you start a lighthearted conversation, trying to divert his mind. "I don't care about this now. I lost , that matters" He says, with a choked voice as he slumps on the bed. "Baby, please don't say that. A silver medal at 20, thats something! Come on, this is a rare feat" You try cheering him up, sitting beside him, fingers through his hair. He looks at you, yes glistening with tears "But the match was in my control! I should have won that, break point after break point.." he grabs his hair, elbows resting on his thighs, firmly, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Hey", cupping his face, "I know its hard for you, but please don't disregard what you achieved right now. You won silver, be proud about it. Don't dwell on what could have happened or what didn't happen. It's hard I know, but please try and live in this moment hmm?" you say, caressing his face, wiping his tears. His red puffy eyes stared into yours, "But he wasn't even in his full form and I was. Why I-I don't get it what happens to me....I don't deserve being number 2 in the-" "Carlos, are you dumb? " you rebuked him. "You practice nonstop, win matches, get points that you deserve, to be at the level you are now. Why are you questioning that? This isn't the end. Yes, you might have done better, but that doesn't nullify everything you have done uptill now, right?" You pull him closer, hugging him. "I'm proud of you, doesn't matter if you won or lost. I am proud of you every single day. Because I know you work hand and how sincere you are. Please be proud of yourself too, you deserve this" you say, caressing his back. He hugs you tighter, you feel his breath becoming normal.

You both stay in each others embrace for a bit longer. He finally breaks the hug and looks at you with those green-brown eyes you love so much, filled with sincerity and love. "Thank you" he whispers, his voice a little hoarse from all those tears. You smile at him, saying "Should I prepare a bath for you?" "Yeah, that would be great, love."

Sitting on the bed in your pj's, you hear him switching off the hair dryer, as he comes out of the bathroom. His shoulders are relaxed, and face much calmer. "Feeling better?" "A lot" with that he plops on the bed, next to you. He instinctively puts his head on your lap, staring at your face. "I forgot to even say this, but you looked gorgeous in that red dress you wore to the match." You feel your cheeks heating up, "Thanks, glad you love it." Your fingers play with his hair, as he watches your face. "What?" you chuckle and ask him. "Nah, just thinking what I would ever do without you.", he says, adoring your face. You smile, the cute dimple when you laugh. He loves everything about you. "Not possible, because you won't get rid of me this easily". You move down, pecking his lips. As you were going to pull apart, he smashes his lips onto yours, putting his hand behind your head, as he flips you over on your back, him hovering over you. "Who ever said about leaving?" You grab your chance and tickle him near his waist. "Y/N, stop..i-it tickles, you know I'm ticklish, stop-" He laughs and squirms away. He tickles you back and you squeal. "Charlie, stop- " The room is filled with both of your laughter. And you hoped thats how your life would stay too, forever. __________. ________________. __________ I saw an olympics reel of him crying and...here we are :"))

masterlist

[sportsuo]

𝗮 𝗳𝗲𝘄 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀

don't be racist

don't be a jerk

don't talk about their private life if it isn't out. ex. grealish is fine

don't be a creep

also please start your ask with uo ''the sport''