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idksmtms · 3 months ago

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Don't Be Nervous (Carlitos Alcaraz x reader)

Request

A/N: Firstly, I am so sorry it has taken me so frickin long to answer this request Anon. I’M SO SORRYYYYY.

Secondly, I LOVE writing for Carlos, so I will take literally any request for him! Idk, that cutie pie has me in some kinda chokehold.

Summary: Carlos is taking you home for the weekend to meet his family for the first time and trying not to laugh at how crazily nervous you are.

Word count: 3,230

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, anxiety, big relationship moment, mostly just fluffy with a little panicking in the beginning (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: This is written purely for fictional purposes and for the sake of writing. No disrespect is intended to the real people portrayed/concerned in this scenario.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

Carlos was lounging on the bed in your hotel room while you sat at the little desk in the corner by the window trying to stop your hand from shaking as you put on your eyeliner. Your flight landed late in the night so you had booked a hotel room to stay in. Though his mother had insisted you come to stay at the house with them, you hadn’t wanted to disturb them that late. He had come to the hotel right after practice ended at noon, just as you were finally waking up from your mini-coma and had crawled into bed with you for an hour.

You had missed him dearly the week you had been travelling and worrying about the impending meeting with his family, so the cuddle session had been welcome. He had slithered under the covers then basically laid his entire body on top of you, laughing softly when you had grunted but simply wrapped your arms around his torso and snuggled your face into his neck. He smelled clean from his shower, like the mint shampoo you had gotten for him near the beginning of your relationship when you had found out he was one of those people that used 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and bodywash. You still teased him about that sometimes even though he had evolved his shower routine. Then he had simply rolled off of you and wrapped you up in his arms, whispering about how much he had missed you against your cheek before (at your nudging) setting a thirty minute timer for a nap.

Now you were awake, showered, finished with blow-drying your hair, dressed in a pretty green flowery dress that you felt demonstrated your best cottage-core self, and trying to get your eyeliner wings even. Carlos was lying on the bed, legs over the edge and phone raised over his face as he scrolled through instagram and shot-down all your insane and irrational worries about meeting his family.

“They already love you and they have not even met you yet!” He exclaimed when you turned to him angrily and said “what if they think I’m some evil little golddigger?!” You just scoffed as if he didn’t understand and he began laughing, dropping his phone beside his head and standing up. He came over to the bench you were sitting on and set himself down beside you, gently brushing his fingers through your hair on the shoulder closest to him. You turned to face him, a pout on your lips as you capped the eyeliner and put it down on the desk. You reached out and draped your arms over his shoulders, dropping your head in the space between you two as you sighed. He only leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before lifting it by your chin and making you look him in the eyes.

You loved his eyes. They were so beautiful, so unique, your favourite set of eyes because of the person they came with. The brown was so soft and clear, like what a dark-coloured honey looked like if it was being poured out into the sun. And they were always soft. Even when he was at his most focused in a match and they took on that slightly darker quality, they were soft eyes. You could never believe he was a mean or unkind person simply because of those eyes (biassed as you were).

“I just…” you sighed and shook your head, pursing your lips for a moment. “I really want them to like me. I- I love you,” you shrugged, and he just smiled giddily, leaning over and pressing a kiss to your cheek. You were glad you hadn’t put your foundation on yet otherwise a very different argument would have happened at that moment. “And they’re your family, they shaped you into the person you are today and you love them. I want them to love me too, or at least like me.” And you sighed again as if you felt utterly stupid but he began shaking his head.

“Since they are my family, I would know how they feel, no?” He asked, and you nodded, though hesitatingly. “Ok, so let me tell you how they feel. They think you are beautiful because I send pictures of you on the family group chat all the time. Like probably once a day.” When you only giggled and shook your head, he pulled out his phone and opened one of the screenshots he had taken of the family group chat after he had sent pictures of the two of you on holiday in Greece. “See?” He proffered his phone to you and you grabbed it out of his hand, zooming in on the photo little.

At the top was the picture of you and him you had taken in the mirror before you left for dinner with some of his friends. You had been really proud of your outfit and makeup that day. You had begun tanning from how long you spent on the beach each day and had a pinkish hue under your skin from the heat. Under the photo both of his parents had sent a bunch of heart and starry-eyed emojis. His mother said he looked very handsome and his father simply asked where you guys were going. His brothers hadn’t chimed in yet and he answered his father’s question with a quick out to dinner. Other messages from his mother followed, Y/n looks so beautiful! Make sure you tell her! And another, Ask her where the dress is from, I want one as well. You laughed loudly at that then hit Carlos on the shoulder.

“Ow, why?” He asked through a laugh, watching the smile grow on your face.

“Because your mother told you to ask me where I got the dress from and you never did! What if she thinks I just ignored it or I’m snobby or something?!”

“Cariño, I think she knew I never even asked,” he laughed, shaking his head as you sighed in exasperation and continued reading the messages. Alvaro had simply asked how did you manage to get such a pretty girlfriend and you raised an eyebrow and pointed at the message, shoving the phone in his face for a second before handing it back to him. He put it in his pocket then gently pulled you closer so you were almost sitting on top of him. He kissed you, soft and sweet and quick, before smiling and looking into your eyes. “You worry too much, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed sadly, kissing him one more time before pushing him away and turning back to the mirror on the desk that you were using as your vanity. “Ok, now leave me alone so I can finish my makeup and we can get going. I might actually spontaneously combust if we were late.” And he laughed all the way back to his spot on the bed.

It didn’t take you long to finish your makeup while Carlos continued perusing his instagram reels, occasionally getting up to show you a couple of the funny ones. You were well practised, and after the eyeliner the motions were simpler. You almost had a breakdown when you thought your foundation had started pilling around your nose (and you definitely wouldn’t have time to wipe it all off and put it on again) but it was just some fluff that had gotten caught on your sponge while you were dabbing at it and it came away easily. That was also the moment you decided you really did need to calm down because almost crying over that definitely wasn’t healthy.

You packed your makeup bag into your suitcase before zipping it up and putting it onto the floor. You grabbed your little purse from the side table and the tote bag with gifts for the family. You were quite proud of yourself with your gifts, a pair of pretty silver earrings for his mother, cufflinks for his father, a brightly coloured tennis grip for Jaime (the one that he had been told to save his allowance up for) and chocolates for everyone to share. You wanted them to like you, and gifts usually worked pretty well, you found.

Carlos grabbed the handle of your suitcase as you took one last look around and held the door open for you as you pinched the keycard from the little holder by the lightswitch. He waited patiently by the door, ordering an Uber while you checked out, then telling you to sit in the car while he put the suitcase in the boot. Once the car was on its way, you swivelled to face him in the backseat.

“What if they think I’m an idiot?” You asked, worrying at your lip as the driver changed lanes. Carlos laughed, squinting at you in confusion.

“Why would they think you are an idiot?” He asked, twisting his hand in a ‘what in the world…’ motion.

“I don’t know. Sometimes when I get nervous I talk a lot or I don’t say enough or I don’t think about what I’m actually saying and just- ugh. I sound stupid.”

“Ok, then I have a simple solution for you,” he nodded sagely, like he had been carrying all the answers to the universe and you need only have asked for them.

“What?” You asked sceptically, glaring at him.

“Don’t be nervous,” he shrugged, laughing hysterically while you just crossed your arms over your chest and turned back to the window with a scowl.

“Ha. Ha. You think you’re so funny,” you grumbled, pulling away when he tried to grasp your shoulder and shooting him an annoyed look. He reached down and took your hand in his and despite the intense desire to pull it away as well, you let him bring it up to his lips and gently kiss the back in apology.

“Ok, ok, I am sorry, really. Look, I understand why you are nervous, but really there is no reason for it. Unless you do something weird that you usually never do, there will be no problem and they will love you more than they love me.” His smile was so innocent and comforting and loving that all you could do was nod and lean over to kiss him gently.

“Can I still ask dumb ‘what if’ questions while we drive to distract myself?” You asked quietly, sounding almost like a little kid, and he just chuckled, nodding and pulling you as close as he could while both of you had your seatbelts on.

“Ok, what if when we go inside and they come to greet us, I fall flat on my face right in front of them?”

“Then they will run to help you get back up, and I will stand behind you trying to stop laughing,” he smirked cheekily so you smacked his chest lightly but smiled secretly.

“Ok, um,” you dragged out, trying to think of more crazy (but extremely possible) scenarios. “What if we get inside, and everything is going well, but then out of nowhere, I throw up all over myself and the floor?” You raised an eyebrow, challenging him to answer it, but he was laughing so hard that it took him a minute to gather enough breath to respond.

“Then my mother will probably take you upstairs to the guest bedroom and help you clean yourself up, change your clothes, tuck you into bed and take care of you like you are a sick baby. And my father and I will be downstairs cleaning up all the vomit.”

“Hmph,” and he almost laughed at the fact that you seemed upset that you hadn’t stumped him with your ridiculous question. “Ok, what if right after I walk in, a dinosaur comes out of nowhere and smashes its foot through the roof of the living room?”

Carlos just lifted an eyebrow into the air and even you had to admit that that was just crazy. Nevertheless, the questions continued for the rest of the ride.

The Alcaraz family lived in a beautiful Spanish villa that looked like what one would imagine as the perfect Mediterranean summer destination. He led you up the path to the door and then inside. As he crossed the threshold, he held the door open for you with his free hand before locking it behind himself. You could hear distant murmuring and held tighter onto the strap of your tote bag.

Since you had stepped out of the car, your heart had begun pounding like it was trying to escape your chest. Your palms were sweaty and your breaths felt shaky but Carlos didn’t give you a moment to pause and stew in your thoughts. He simply kept walking you up the path, through the door and into the house.

As both of you walked down the hallway that led into the large living room, he announced your arrival.

“Hola hola!” He hollered, “estamos aqui!” He peeked his head around the staircase and found the entire family lounging on the couches around the coffee table, scrolling on their phones or watching something mindless on the tv. They all perked up at the sound of his voice and stood up from their seats to greet the both of you.

Your heart had jumped into your throat but Carlitos kept his grip on your hand and dragged you into the living room behind him so you had no choice but to paste on a smile and fight through the sudden lack of air in your lungs.

When you guys came around the bend of the stairs into the living room, you took a deep breath as his family came to greet you. His mother pressed a kiss to his cheek quickly before shoving past him and smiling brightly at you.

“Oh, hello, darling!” She exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug as you mumbled a ‘hello Mrs. Alcaraz in return. She brushed it off and told you to call her Virginia against your shoulder, rubbing your back before pulling away and grasping both your hands in hers, looking you over for a moment with a warm and motherly smile. “You are so beautiful! So, so, beautiful,” she told you excitedly, squeezing your hands gently as you laughed bashfully and thanked her. “Carlitos is always talking about you and we are so happy to finally meet you.” You blushed at that, glancing over to Carlos who was talking to his brothers about something. When she pulled away, she wrapped an arm around your shoulder and brought you further into the room.

Carlos’s father came up to you next, shaking your hand firmly and smiling at you as he asked if he could take your bag and put it down for you.

“Oh, that’s so sweet, thank you so much!” You exclaimed before pulling the bag off your shoulder and opening it. “But, they’re actually gifts for you,” you told them shyly, pulling out the two velvet boxes for him and Virginia. She came over and hugged you again, teasingly admonishing you for bothering to get gifts which you brushed off with a wave of the hand. “I wanted to,” you simply told her, shrugging before turning to his brothers who were now standing near you.

“Y/n, this is Alvaro,” Carlos had an arm wrapped over his older brother’s shoulder and shook him a little when he said his name. You giggled and held out your hand for him to shake, and he smiled politely in return. You handed him the box of liqueur chocolates you had brought and he smiled mischievously, nudging Carlos with his elbow.

“She knows how to make us love her, huh?” He asked teasingly before turning to face you again. “Thank you, this is very nice.”

“No problem,” you shrugged, but a joyful smile was slowly pulling on your lips as you turned to his other two brothers.

“This is Sergio, and Jaime,” Carlos introduced, and he stood behind Jaime, shaking his little shoulders until he was giggling.

You turned first to Sergio who was closer to age to you and Carlos, and gave him the little box of chocolates you had gotten specifically for him because Carlos said they were his favourite. In typical teenage boy fashion, he smiled and thanked you then moved to go stand by Alvaro. Jaime joking around with Carlos, sending fake punches into Carlos’s side who pretended to keel over in pain. You laughed at the little display before grabbing the box that had the racket grip in it and holding it out to Jaime.

“This is for you,” you said happily, waiting for him to take the box from you. He did, saying a bright ‘thank you!’ before turning it over and realising it was the grip he had asked for a few weeks ago but told to save up for. You understood that his parents were trying to help him learn financial responsibility, even with something like a tennis grip, but you hadn’t been able to help yourself. He was secretly your favourite of Carlos’s brothers simply because he was the youngest and had such a cute little babyface.

“Thank you!” He exclaimed again and gave you a quick hug. It barely lasted a few seconds before he was pulling away and going to his tennis bag under the stairs to re-grip his racket, but you were filled with a sense of triumph and a fizzing happiness that filled each of your limbs. Everything was going great.

Carlos ambled over and gently rubbed your arm, raising his eyebrows as if to say ‘see? Everything worked out just like I said,’ and you smiled in acceptance, pushing him lightly in the chest before his mother came over and guided you to sit on one of the sofas so she could ask you a million questions about your life.

Virginia and Carlitos had taken you for a tour of the house and shown you the guest room you would be staying in. Dinner afterward went amazingly as well, with everyone telling stories about Carlitos as a child that made him blush and laugh in embarrassment as you cracked up beside him. When the plates were being cleared away and everyone was moving to the sofas again for coffee and tea, you insisted on helping his mother take everything to the kitchen and aid her in washing the plates. She had told you to go sit down about ten times and even tried to physically push you out of the kitchen at one point but you refused to budge.

And as Carlitos stood in the doorway watching you smile at her and make some joke that made her chuckle, he truly felt that everything was right in the world. The entire night he felt like someone had put a filter over his eyes so everything looked rosy and warm, but it was just you. It was just your presence and you being around his family; it was just the gathering of all the people he loved the most in the world. He watched you gesture behind yourself and say something with wide eyes that made his mother bend over as she laughed hysterically, and he thought that soulmates might just be real.

#carlos alcaraz imagine #carlos alcaraz x you #carlos x you #carlos alcaraz #carlos alcaraz x reader #carlos alacaraz x reader #carlos alcaraz garfia #carlos alcaraz fanfiction #carlos alcaraz fic #tennisblr #tennis #tennis fics #tennis fanfics #tennis imagine #tennis player #atp tennis x reader #tennis x reader #meet the family #meet the family fic

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rvblos · 5 months ago

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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

#nina writes!🫂#carlos alcaraz #carlos alcaraz headcanons #carlos alcaraz fic #carlos alcaraz x reader #carlos alcaraz fluff #carlos alcaraz smut #tennis #tennis player #tennis fic #atp #fluff #smut #headcanons

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alcqraz · 29 days ago

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★ summary — after yet another tough loss in the australian open, y/n finds solace within her boyfriend. ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★★ pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★ content warnings. n/a. carlos being a cutie patootie? ˖˙ ꔫ —★★ word count. 3.2k ˖˙ ꔫ —★ genre. fluff. it's carlos. what do you expect? ★ authors note: for the girls! i really need to write some x male!reader for myself... ben drabble coming next and then we go from there. also ugh, he's so cute i love him so much. after 6 decades, 4 redbulls and 25 million complaints, you shalt recieve whatever the hell this monstrosity is... i apologize, this is terrible. ⠀⠀⠀❛⠀⠀ @yungbludz ; @csainzcalcaraz ; idk who else to tag.

Bitterness was an odd sort of sensation. It wrapped around the heart within a warp of seamless, thick fog- the cold tendrils seeping into the crevices of positivity that she deemed to find after such a loss. It whispered to Y/N in moments where she stood in front of the media, rumbling off a number of responses given by her public relations manager. One for which she believed to have almost no effect upon her relationship with the public. It lingered, like some sort of lurking shadow amongst the thoughts that crowded her back of mind as the reality delved deep into her bones. As the media had swooped down as vultures and ripped her performance apart with each piece of mindless critique that, most of the time, could be said to have been terribly wrong.

She’d known the drill. Exchanging hands with the devil within every turn that crossed her path, with every early round exit that haunted her presence as she packed up to head towards the next tournament. One which would lead to the abiding taste of victory or once again; bitterness. It followed her every step, with every ground stroke, with every serve missed. It was only when the umpire would shout out the words- game, set match; followed by a name that was not hers, would she realize. It settled in slowly; similar to the dust that set on the shelves after being unused for far too long, and eventually did she finally feel the truth of it all.

Australia seemed to disdain her existence as a whole. Y/N had decidedly chosen to believe so after a handful of upsets. Within the premises of a place far too beautiful to be spiteful, does she drown within her sorrows of the match. The Australian Open always rubbed like salt within her wounds, lost matches after lost matches, and she wondered to herself what she could possibly be doing wrong with her career. It was not as if it were common. Undoubtedly, Y/N would lose; just as the greatest to ever have played the game had done so before, but within the years that passed by, it only tended to happen with a good run. Perhaps losing upon the semi-finals or the finals could be regarded as a wider received upset, however the expectation that crawled upon her skin with every waking moment only pressured her further to go for a deeper run.

And yet, as the sun dipped lower upon the evening-lit sky, it sank deep within the horizon as such a carefully crafted and cared for gold coin slipping into the darkened waves of the ocean. Casting hues of colors that in any other situation, Y/N would find extraordinary. What was not to appreciate a good sunset for? But it was not the stunning beauty of the sunset that plastered her thoughts, and to her utter surprise and relief, was also not the stalling weight of the loss. Instead, her mind subconsciously drifted to the Spaniard that she knew would be waiting upon her arrival.

Carlos was never one short of a support system for Y/N. In a sort of way, she wonders faintly what she would do without his constant encouragement and advocacy. Who would be there for her after such a loss? Who would be the one to woefully wrap their arms around her as she doubted her ability, the one who would whisper sweet nothings into her ears until she truly believed it? Y/N knew that she couldn’t escape it again this time, despite the need to potentially be alone for multiple hours before truly being in a mindset to talk to others without resulting in a bout of tension due to snappy answers.

She knew that he would’ve watched the match. Sitting atop his hotel room bed in which she had fallen asleep in for many days beforehand, never daring to book a shared room due to the fear of being caught by, not his team, but others. News outlets, reporters- those who would do nothing less than to dwell low for an eye-catching title. Sprawled across the sheets, she could imagine him, his mouth pursed into a tight line; not at the loss, but at the disappointed glances the camera would’ve caught with ease. He never cared for her results, not in that sense, but in the sense of that he would not judge her for an early round exit such as today. The only thing that mattered to him would’ve been what she had felt- frustration, agitated, disappointed, seemed to all be on the table on this fateful night.

And in a certain light, she looked forward to those tender moments. The feeling of a ripple of being loved and appreciated within an ocean of critical and in times, cruel comments that had been made of her. For her tennis, her looks, her image; there always appeared to be something to grumble about albeit it be for the tiniest, most inconspicuous things. Carlos always shook his head, his head of grown hair shaking in such a way that was endearing to Y/N. He’d reach over, gently plucking the phone from his hands although unable to hide his pique of interest in what his girlfriend so… encapsulated. He’d learnt quickly that it was never good in instances as such.

There would be some form of tension as the Spaniard would look up, an odd frown stretching across his face. It never fit him right- frowning, it just didn’t feel right, like a human in an animal enclosure. Unbelonging. Conceivably, it was because she was used to his bright, joyous and up-lifting grin, that goofy smile that could assault a ray of light upon the darkest of days. Seeing the opposite of it was unfathomable. There would be a mumble of words, half mixed with Spanish as he would set the phone down, an arm slowly easing up to provide a source of comfort.

Arguably, the drive back to the exquisite hotel in which she had been assigned could be determined to be the longest and shortest drive she’d ever experienced. The driver made no attempt to start a conversation in any variation, instead decidedly for the better, kept his mouth tightly shut. Y/N had assumed that one not so nice glance, which- for the record, she did not mean to give, shut him up real quick as from a viewpoint, he looked fairly friendly. Like the sort of person to make small talk with strangers without making either party feel vastly uncomfortable. She’d never gotten out of a place faster in her life. Mumbling out a soft thank you, because if honesty was policy, it was the least she could do after such a drive.

She was thankful that at least the hotel had a welcoming atmosphere, the constant chatter of guests that could care less of her arrival. Or even better, did not recognize her for who she was. Her team had followed back within another car, not that Y/N had requested so, but it felt more of a moral perception. They knew what to leave things at, and she could come to appreciate having a group of people that understood. Within the dynamic lighting in the building, she could vaguely make out one of the tournament cars pulling into the entrance.

Hauling the bag that slung across a singular shoulder, and quietly adjusting the hanging strap, Y/N stumbles her way back towards her room. The hallway stood eerily silent, the usual foreigner- or group of foreigners had either disappeared into the night, taken an early exit, or drunk on a dance floor. The latter, she had assumed. Notionally, it would’ve been far better than having to be questioned by the eyes of another guest, making polite small-talk as the elevator shuddered and picked up its pace. They’d wish her luck, not knowing the slaughter that had happened on court not even hours before.

A part of Y/N wants to immediately head over to Carlos’s room. To drop everything and melt within his strong arms, to go home. But she knew better than to show up at his front door, sweaty, pissed off and with an arm load of bags. And so she resisted, grumbling a number of curses as she punched in the floor that her suite had been on, waiting as the elevator whirred to its heart's content. It feels far too long, the walk back grudging and slow, with every drag of her foot feeling as she were walking through puddles of wet concrete. Perhaps it was the exhaustion after a match dwelling down, or perhaps it’s the mental aspect of everything- Y/N never could truly pinpoint this feeling, despite the half-hearted attempts at understanding.

Her bags are carelessly strewn across the floor, allowing her jacket to fall upon one of the unused chairs of her suite. The room is big; far too big for a single person living in it, and whilst Y/N had admired the spaciousness of the area when she had first arrived, now it had felt more despondent than ever. Even showering felt enervating, too hot for a minute, then too cold for another, and she wonders how such an expansive hotel could reserve for a lavish waterfall in its lobby, yet not have enough for a capable showerhead. She had to admit though, she’d felt better after such a shower, muscles relaxing and the stench being wafted away within a moment's notice. It feels as if she’d done it a million times, coming back after a match, trying to take a relaxing shower before she was to be grilled by her coach for the next. It felt more of a simulation, as if things were repeating itself over and over again, like a clock resetting after every twelve hours. The only time that would differ would be around Carlos, the Spaniard making time feel irrelevant to the universe, until it was only them that mattered. Nothing else, nothing more.

It’s always for that reason she found herself back in this position, new comfortable clothing that hung loosely around her shoulders, hair up for it to dry faster. There would be no makeup involved, she’d known Carlos for long enough that she knew he could not care for what she looked like in these moments. Instead, worrying about further issues. It’s almost embarrassing how many times she found solace within him, as he would finally open that god damn door to his hotel room, that stupid smile that could light up the entire town, the way he never seemed less excited to see Y/N no matter how many times he’d actually seen her. He was so… how could he be so… she never grasped at how or why, never could comprehend. It never changed.

“Y/N?”

Carlos peers curiously, eyes glinting with a sort of inquisitiveness no one else could replicate. That look, the one that Y/N could never get used to, one that shone like the moon upon a dim evening sky. “Estas bien?”His words cut through the uttered silence, his head cocking to the side like a mackerel. For a moment, she profoundly forgot where she was, taking more than just a second to process the Spaniard’s words.

Her eyelids flutter, open and shut, shut then open, as if trying to clear a haze that had clouded her vision. Deliberately, she let her head sway from one side to another, strands of hair falling from the elastic that held her hair together. “Oh, uh-” She stumbles over her words, as if she were suddenly at a loss, a lump forming cautiously within the midsts of her throat. “Yes, yeah- I’m fine, estoy bien.” The words feel jumbled as it comes out of her mouth, as if she hadn’t spoken in many years before advancing her way towards Carlos.

He looks around, protruding his head from the frame of the wooden door, as if he were searching for something, or perchance, it was looking out for her. When he had decidedly chosen that the coast could be deemed as clear, Carlos gently ushers Y/N in, a hand swiping behind her back and brushing her into the room. It’s far messier than her room, as well, Carlos was Carlos and old habits die hard, but it feels much more of a humble abode. The smell of Carlos wafts airly within the room, like a warm, familiar embrace, dancing lightly throughout the suite. It wraps around like a fuzzy blanket, easing the tension that spooked through her veins, allowing her to sink into a contraption of intimacy.

Carlos’s mouth opens, as if he were to say something, but he hesitates wearily. Y/N is sure that it’s because he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, that would rub her in the wrong way. The thought stings a little, knowing that Carlos felt as if he couldn’t say what he truly thought to her without the fear of retaliation. “No estuvo mal.” He says the words slowly, dragging across his tongue, syllable by syllable. “Te veías bien.”

There’s a hint of truth that comes with his words, Carlos didn’t enjoy lying, especially to her, Y/N quickly realized soon into their relationship. He knew of the pain of hearing those around him lying of how he played- good or bad. He discerned, to only speak of the truth. Yet he also, deep down, fathomed that she would not believe what he said despite the sincerity. Knew that it was a battle already lost, and there was not much he could do about it other than whisper caring endearments until the discomfort of the loss passed.

“It didn’t feel good.” She responds, not quite a snap back to Carlos, but more of a defense mechanism to protect herself.

“Losing does not feel good ever, yes?” His words are coated with an accent, one that she found more endearing than anything else. The attempt was enough to fill a crack of her heart with warmth, and it only grows further as Carlos takes a couple steps in to enfold his arms around Y/N, in a well meant attempt to shield her from any negative critiques or thoughts. “Pero eso no significa que no fuera bueno, ¿verdad?”

She knew what was to come. Knew the little spiel of words he had crafted carefully within his mind. He would remind her of the positives. Of how it could do more good than bad, and that it was just a single tournament in an ocean of others. She would come back, win the next title, and all would be forgotten as the media turned back to the bouts of adoration for her antics and play style.

Carlos sighs, shaking his head in such a manner of disappointment. “Ven aqui.” He mumbles softly, his words barely breaking the silence that touched the room. He takes a few purposeful steps toward the bed, tugging her alongside him. His touch lingers, a gentle pressure that presses Y/N against the comfortable mattress in a way that feels tender and intimate, exuding a warmth and familiarity that only Carlos could convey to her. It’s a moment cuddled with unspoken connection, where every brush of his hand spoke volumes of the devotion he felt.

There was nothing she would want more, nothing that could comfort her in such a way that it made the whole world feel at peace. He could make her forget in a number of ways, but this- his body pressed up against hers, breath hot against her skin as he tangled them into a spooning position. It feels as if heaven were on Earth, the sensations greater than whatever pleasure tennis could bring to her. “Todo va a estar bien, si?” Carlos whispers, carrying not only a sense of warmth but tinged with secrecy as well. A sacred space that only withled the two of them, with no allowed space for others. A fleeting moment, that has Y/N’s heart thumping within her body.

“Maybe if you’re always here after I lose in straight sets.”

Her response isn’t biting, it’s not bitter as she would’ve expected it to be. Perhaps it was because he found it nearly impossible to act so rudely towards Carlos. He smiles though, in an answer, his lips stretching lazily into that stupid, stupid grin. “Siempre estaré aquí para ti, amor.” Carlos says, lips just tracing over the lobes of her ears, and for a moment, Y/N shuddered at the touch- so intimate and close, so indescribable. His fingers lay on her delicate skin, one that had been soaked upon sweat just hours ago, and it feels as if the area had been set on fire. His touch warm and fascinating, his lips soft and ginger as he slowly bestows a kiss on her own.

It’s a feeling Y/N would never be able to shake off no matter how many times it happened. The elusive tingle that tinged up her spine, then throughout her bones, every nerve as if it had been lit on fire. The way his hands slowly caresses her face, not intruding and not pushing for anything further, just to have her in such a way that only the luckiest woman in the world could imagine to have. And when he pulls away, it leaves Y/N yearning for more, eyes trying to convey a message of need and desire. But Carlos is quick to shake his head, and although dismay aligns across his features, he’s firm about it.

“Descansa un poco” He murmurs, turning so that Y/N would lay on the mattress in a manner that he knew she’d prefer to anything else. Likewise, she was tired. In spite of everything- the match, the weight of the loss, the media that gawked, their smirks playing along their faces as she spoke, every word a better headline for them, in a fashion of twisting her own words and using them to stab her against the back. It was, perhaps, the worst part of tennis, one that Y/N wished she could evaporate with a snap of her fingers. But she could not, she did not have the power to do so, and it was not as if it would be of any use if she had tried.

With a defiant huff of a breath, she tried to ease the restlessness that lodged between her bones, letting her eyes fall shut, easing into an acquainted darkness. With the pressure of Carlos around her, the soft breathing that snuck in and out, sweeping across her right ear, Y/N mitigates into a calming state of bliss. One in which she only found moments like these, where she did not have to shine as a radiant poster boy, where she could finally just let herself be. And during that interval where she felt not quite asleep, yet not awake either, she smiles to herself, knowing that for one, she could rest easy for the time being. That she was safe, within the consolation of home.

97 notes · View notes

giveafike · 22 days ago

Note

kinda obsessed with the prompt of ben x fem tennis reader being together for a lil while and being the cutest couple , breaking up bc the distance hit them too hard after two straight months of different tournaments/locations, then seeing each other for the first time at a 1000 tournament, going out to dinner with the same group of people and end up going back to bens hotel room to clear the air and obvs end up in bed together realising they’re gonna have to get thru the distance cos they can’t be without each other now 😭

TLDR: tennisplayerfem!reader and ben break up bc you can't handle being away and then surprise, you can't handle being not together. Losers.

Word count + info: 10k. Am I mentally ill? This is supposed to be a blurb.. Dialogue (angst, texts, calls, conversation).

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! Breakup and kinda mean stuff said (nothing physical description wise). Otherwise, it's all good! (i think)

Azzie Notes ✚: SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD. AM I OKAY??? 10K?? ON A BLURB?? idrk what angst is fr chat lmk if i did that one fr idk....im a LOVER girl ok IDK HOW TO DO THIS SAD SHIT - in saying that, was part of my dialogue in this lwky..loosely based off of my ex...........maybe...

I fear I loved this prompt so bad and like...I love to yap..so...

Socials + Updates: twitter ( @azziegivesafike) - feel free to follow and msg me about non requests there, I'll be posting life updates, story + req updates and spoilers/teasers alongside other things, so it'd be nice to have a community over there!

————————————————————————

Shattered - B.T.S.

In the beginning, being with Ben is the kind of whirlwind you've only seen in movies, a connection that feels so natural, yet thrillingly unexpected. Well, in hindsight, that might've been a lie. It wasn't exactly love at first sight, but instead, a slow, magnetic pull that drew you together, like the tension building in a long rally. You met on the circuit, both hungry, ambitious, and dedicated to your own success. But from the start, Ben had this way of getting past your disciplined, guarded exterior with that relentless charm of his.

He’s everywhere, it seems—posting highlights from your matches on his stories, sneaking your name into press conferences, tagging you in his silly “lazy Saturday” shots where your game is always playing in the background. He flirts shamelessly, flashing that grin across the court, his voice lifting over the crowd to make some cheeky comment that leaves you stifling laughter. Your friends see it before you do: Ben is crazy about you, and soon, so is everyone else.

He flirted shamelessly and relentlessly, everywhere and anywhere, often catching you off guard in ways that left you flustered despite your best efforts to stay cool and professional. With that, you started to look out for the way his eyes would find yours in a crowd while you sat in the stands during his matches or how he would nudge you at practice with that easy, casual touch like he’s done it a thousand times before; like you belong by his side.

Once, when he's asked in an interview if he’d dedicated his recent win to anyone, he grins and looks straight across the room, making everyone laugh. “There’s someone special right now, but no need to say names, she knows.”

It’s sweet, funny and more than a little bold. Later, when you called him out for it over one of your first late-night calls, he shrugged, entirely unapologetic, telling you with that stupid drawl of his, “What? Ain’t no point hidin’ it. The world knows who my lucky charm is.”

Soon, it was you reaching out for him, your hand slipping onto his arm, leaning against him during walkouts, letting your barriers fall. And every time he catches your eye, every time he manages to make you smile, he looks at you like he’s won the lottery. His heart stammers a little each time you shove him playfully or roll your eyes at his antics. Whether it was on the bench or during changeovers, Ben would rest his hand gently on your lower back, a touch that makes you feel, just for a moment, like you're the only two people in the world.

When the rare break in your schedules comes around, you steal hours together. You grab a coffee, turning a "quick run" into a day spent together and wander around a city you barely know, or stumble upon a hidden café with pastries too flowery for your tastes. He made everything feel easier, like no matter how intense life gets, you’ll always have that balance with him. Around Ben, you can be softer, and more vulnerable; he brings out a side of you that isn’t just about winning and competing but about laughing, sharing, and letting go.

People noticed the way you look at each other, the easy affection that passes between you, the more daring and intimate PDA, sharing kisses and lingering stares. Soon, fans were shipping you openly, posting photos of you courtside, or whispering to each other when you lean close and murmur something that makes him laugh. On tour, you’re one of those “it” couples, a little slice of joy in the relentless pace of your careers. And in those early days, you both believe that together, you can take on anything. In those early days, you believed you could take on anything together. You and Ben were partners, equals, and even in the midst of a gruelling season, there had always been time for him, always a reason to smile. It felt perfect, like a love story you had stumbled into but were both entirely committed to.

But that honeymoon phase comes crashing down real quick.

As seasons shift and tournaments stretch across continents, the cracks start to show. At first, it’s just a few hours difference, but then come the miles and oceans, and the texts dwindled, conversations cut short, replaced by more missed calls than made and vague apologies. You both had tried, in every way you knew how. But eventually, the memories weren’t enough to bridge the distance. You’d catch yourself staying up just to wait for his call after practice, only to fall asleep disappointed, staring at a dark screen. And every time you woke up to a hastily sent sorry, something came up text, it felt like another tiny fracture.

Ben wasn’t the only one caught up in the chaos of your schedules; you had your own demands, too. The strain went both ways. In an attempt to keep things alive, you’d push yourself to keep up with his time zone, adding another city to your Clock app, setting alarms accordingly to his lunch and dinner times, staying awake far too late, eyes heavy as you sat alone in your hotel room, scrolling through old photos just to feel closer to him. When the call finally did come, your voice was barely more than a whisper, tired and distant, and Ben couldn't bear the exhaustion in your tone, his heart aching as he hushed you to sleep, meaning neither of you would stay on long.

It all piled up slowly, almost imperceptibly, until the weight felt crushing. Conversations became one-sided, it’s like chasing the sun itself, moments of silence replacing the laughter that had once felt endless, and that spark, the one that made you feel unstoppable together, felt further away with every day that passed.

Then came the day of your match, a game that should have been easy, one you’d normally have breezed through. But you were dragging, exhaustion wrapping itself around your every heavy, drooping step, and somewhere in the depths of your mind, a bitter thought took root:

If only he cared.

You knew it wasn’t his fault, but still, the frustration boiled over. Would things have felt different if you weren’t so alone in this? If you didn’t have to wonder when, or if, he’d remember to call? If he scheduled calls to your time for once? If he could just postpone everything for 20, 20 measly minutes for you?

A ball zips right by you, snapping you back to reality.

Lying in your hotel room that night, you stared at the ceiling, replaying the best moments of your time together like an old movie reel. In those moments, it had felt perfect. You’d believed you could take on the world, side by side, partners in everything. But now, with miles and silence separating you, you wondered if those memories were all that was left of what you once had.

But even with that ache, even with the emptiness filling the room, one thing is clear as day: loving Ben, for all its messiness, for all the distance and loneliness, had never felt like a mistake but God, was it hard. You pondered on those same irritating thoughts that itched at you until your fingers found your phone and hit the FaceTime Call button. Part of you wanted him to not pick up, knowing that you had nothing kind or sweet to say, but a small part of you wanted to dish back what he deserved.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice tense, worn. His drawl feels distant like he’s talking to you from across an ocean.

“Hey.” You can feel the iciness in your voice, colder than you intended.

“Long day?” he asks, though his expression is already tense, wary.

“Yeah. Almost lost today,” you say flatly.

Ben’s gaze flicks down. “I saw the score,” he says, his voice cautious. “Guess it was a tough match, babe.”

“It shouldn’t have been,” you snap. “But maybe it’s hard to focus when I’m barely sleeping… or constantly waiting for a text that never comes.”

He blinks, his eyes narrowing. “So this is on me?” The familiar accent is a little rougher around the edges. “You’re losin’ matches ‘cause I’m not callin’ you enough? That’s what you’re sayin’?”

“Don’t play dumb, Ben. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about” You feel the bitterness twisting in your chest. ““You’re barely here, Ben. Half the time, I don’t even know if we’re still together or if we’re just two people sending pointless messages every few hours. Half the time, it feels like I’m talking to a ghost.”

He lets out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “You think it’s any easier for me? I’ve got my own stuff, my own schedule, darlin'. I’ve got my career to think about too, you know, this ain't just about you.”

Your jaw tightens. “Yeah, well, at least when I'm on the court, I don’t exactly have the luxury of tuning you out, Ben. I’m not the one who forgets to call after saying I would. I don’t have time for half-assed texts and waiting around for you to call when you feel like it.”

“Oh, don’t go there,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “You know what it’s like. The fans, the interviews, the time spent on court-”

“Yeah, I get it, Ben. But last week, you bailed on a call to go sign autographs. Priorities, right?”

He takes a deep breath, visibly holding back. “C’mon, babe, you don’t mean that.”

But you press on, unable to stop yourself. “You’re too busy with whatever ‘big thing’ you have going on, right? Maybe if you cared enough to focus on your game instead of your ‘commitments,’ you wouldn’t have dropped that finals match. Just maybe.”

He flinches, his expression turning dark. “Oh, that's low from you, Y/N. You really wanna go there?”

��Yeah, I do,” you say, your voice unwavering.

He pauses, his face hardening. “If you were out here on the ATP tour, you’d understand how rough it really is. You wouldn't even get past a challenger. It ain’t the same league as the WTA.”

You laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “Oh, don’t even start with that. Rougher than the WTA? Is that supposed to make me feel better? Maybe come and join WTA then, you wouldn't manage it out here either, Ben.”

He snaps, his voice cutting like a whip. “You know how much I’m fightin’ to make a name for myself out here. Just ‘cause you got a few more shiny titles doesn’t mean you get to talk down to me like this.”

The sting of his words hits like a slap. Your face flushes, a mix of anger and hurt bubbling up. “So, that’s it? Just because I’ve actually earned my success, I’m some kind of… what? Nag?”

“I didn’t say that,” he shot back, voice tight, his eyes narrowing as he looked away. “But maybe you’re doin’ too much. Bein’ all… dramatic, blamin’ me for stuff I got no control over.”

“Right, okay, so I’m being dramatic,” you scoff, your voice edged with sarcasm. “I’m the one asking for too much because I want something real, something you clearly can’t give.”

He laughs, bitter and raw. “Maybe you just want too damn much.”

You feel the tears prickling behind your eyes, but you clench your jaw, holding yourself together by sheer force of will. Your voice trembles as you speak, the words thick with a pain you can’t contain. “I just want you to care, Ben, or at least pretend to care and make it believable. I want you to care enough to be here when it matters. But you’re so wrapped up in yourself, you don’t even see it.”

His face hardens, his jaw set, but his eyes hold a flicker of something unspoken. “You think I don’t care? I’m out here pushin’ myself every day, for us, for this future we’re supposed to be building 'n shit. But it’s like no matter what I do, it ain’t enough for you.”

A sharp knock sounds from his end, followed by muffled voices. He glances away, then back at you, irritation flaring in his eyes. “Look, I gotta go. Dad’s waitin’ on me; he already gave me an extra ten minutes to talk.”

You feel your heart twist, an ache of disappointment settling in. “Oh, of course,” you mutter, your voice dripping with bitterness. “Go ahead. I’m sure your training’s way more important than anything I have to say.”

He turns back, his eyes blazing with frustration. “Maybe it is right now,” he spits. “Talkin’ to you like this, all it’s doin’ is makin’ things worse. We're not getting anywhere like this-”

The words cut deeper than you expect, and you can barely hold back the surge of anger and heartbreak choking you. “Fine. Go, then. At least one of us can prioritise something.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he looks away. “You’re bein’ unfair, 'n you know it.”

“Am I?” you whisper, your voice tight and choked. “Or am I just done waiting for you to show up?”

You stare at each other, an endless silence stretching between you, sharp and seething, words too heavy to be unsaid. Then, with a frustrated shake of his head, he mutters, “I can’t do this right now. I’ll talk to you later. When you’re not actin’ like this.”

Before you could respond, he hung up, his face disappearing from your screen, leaving you alone with nothing but the cold light of your phone. Your hands shook as you stared at the blank screen, tears finally spilling over.

With trembling fingers, you took a breath, letting a cold, steely calm settle over you. You typed out a simple, blunt message, leaving no room for second-guessing, no room for soft words or explanations. Just the truth, as raw as you felt.

“We’re done. I can’t do this anymore, Ben. I’m sorry.”

Your thumb lingered for a second before hitting “send,” and as soon as the message went through, you blocked him on every platform, cutting off any way for him to respond, to apologise, to convince you otherwise.

But as you tossed your phone aside, a crack appeared in the calm you’d forced on yourself. The tears came suddenly, your breath hitching as a tidal wave of heartbreak surged through you. You buried your face in your hands, pressing your palms against your eyes as if you could somehow contain the emotions clawing their way to the surface. You tried to stay quiet, muffling the sound in the dark, but the weight was too much, every sob raw, grieving and heavy, pouring out the frustration, the loneliness, and the love you’d tried so hard to salvage.

By the time your tears subsided, you felt utterly drained, hollowed out in a way that made everything around you feel distant and surreal. The city lights flickered outside your window, the glow indifferent to the storm that had torn through you. And in that quiet, broken moment, with only the shadows as company, you lay there, letting the exhaustion seep through your bones until sleep claimed you.

When sleep finally came, it was restless, fractured. You tossed and turned, flashes of memories from better days with Ben haunting you, the sound of his laugh, the way he’d smile, gummy and wide, his nose scrunching with that easy confidence. You woke up more exhausted than when you’d closed your eyes, feeling like you hadn’t rested at all. But you forced yourself out of bed, pushing yourself through your pre-game routine, your emotions locked away, frozen under layers of determination.

As you walked onto the court, the crowd buzzed with excitement, but you barely registered it. You were a storm, calm on the surface but seething underneath. Every shot you took was hard and brutal, the ball slicing through the air with an intensity that made your opponent flinch, the impact echoing through the stadium. You played as if your life depended on it, your body moving with sharp, lethal precision.

Your serves were relentless, your groundstrokes vicious, each one faster, sharper, as if each shot were a way to expel the anger and hurt still simmering in your chest. The crowd murmured, noticing the shift in your energy, the way you were pushing yourself, almost recklessly. A couple of times, your shots zipped past your opponent’s hand, barely missing, almost daring her to try and reach for it - "try me". You were untouchable, unstoppable, playing like you had something to prove.

But there was no smile, no hint of joy in your movements, solely mechanical. The usual lightness in your footwork was gone, replaced by a cold, ruthless efficiency. You’d already decided: this match was yours. You weren’t here to give an inch, weren’t here to let any lingering emotions cloud your focus. The crowd might have wanted excitement, but you were giving them precision, a display of control and fury that left no room for doubt.

You won, of course. Your opponent barely had a chance. But as you walked off the court, sweat trickling down your brow, fists clenched, you felt no thrill in the victory. Just the dull ache that lingered, a hollow space where your lightness, your smile, used to be. The heat of the court only made your head throb. The applause faded into background noise as you strode away, head high, shoulders tense. You’d won, but it felt like a hollow victory. You had no one to text after your game, anyone to call you baby - you had done it to yourself, were you really that desperate for a man to validate you? You were sick of feeling this way, sick of the exhaustion, the anger, the loneliness that clung to you even after everything you’d given today. At least, for now, you’d proven something, to yourself, to him, even if he’d never know, or care.

In the month that followed, you threw yourself harshly into your schedule, determined to erase any trace of him from your routine, your heart. Matches, training, travel, interviews, photoshoots, more matches, each day bled into the next, filled with an almost mechanical sense of purpose. If you weren’t on the court, you were working out, perfecting your strokes, spending hours on serves and footwork. Anything to exhaust yourself to stop the thoughts from lingering too long. Your routine was relentless, your focus razor-sharp.

But even in this frenzy, despite it all, reminders of him still slipped through. You’d scroll through social media, and every so often, an ATP post would pop up: Ben at a tournament, Ben celebrating a point, Ben grinning with that easy charm that used to make your heart ache. He looked different now. His curls were longer, spilling out from over his sweaty headband, and his frame had hardened, leaner, with muscle that seemed to outline his strength in sharper lines. His chubby cheeks had slimmed down into something harder, replaced by the quiet confidence of someone who’d grown, adapted, maybe even suffered a little.

And you could almost feel it, the quaking, gaping pain of missing him, but you’d swallow it back down, pull yourself together, and look away.

Your own press conferences became something else entirely. You were more composed, a bit sharper with your words, confident in a way you hadn’t been before. Where you used to smile shyly or laugh softly, now you leaned in with humour, a hint of flirtation, your charm more self-assured. You handled reporters’ questions deftly, especially the ones that tried to pry about Ben. The same questions came up over and over:

“So, do you still keep in touch with Ben?”

Each time, you’d respond with a practised, cool smile. “Right now, I’ve got all the support I need from my team and the people I have with me.” You’d turn the conversation to your work, your skill, and your grind on the court, dismissing the topic with subtle elegance, always steering it back to your goals, your game, and your people.

Yet, away from the cameras, the facade cracked, if only slightly. Sometimes, after a long match or a particularly brutal day of training, you’d find yourself scrolling through your old photos or feeling tears prickling your eyes, this messy situation taking a bigger toll than you would like to admit.

In his hotel room, Ben watched your interviews alone, a faint crease between his brows. There you were, in all your brilliance, flashing a confident smile at the camera, handling the press with a wit and boldness that felt both familiar and strange. He could see the way you’d grown, the way you’d steeled yourself, and it stirred something in him, a pang he couldn’t ignore. It was like watching someone he knew intimately and yet… not at all. The way you answered questions about him, and your subtle redirection to your career and team, it stung. Maybe it was petty, but he missed the way you used to talk about him with such pride, with that lovestruck glow. He loved seeing how shy you would get at the sheer mention of his name. Your hair was different, your skin glowing, you had more confidence, even if it came off a bit cocky but he still felt like you were his, just as much as he was yours. Ben didn’t know how to reach out, didn’t know what he’d even say. There was a distance now, both physical and emotional, that seemed impossible to bridge. He’d scroll through his own phone sometimes, finding old messages, ones before distance got the better of you both, photos of the two of you, half-written scripts in his Notes app he couldn’t bring himself to deliver. If he flew out tonight to you, what would he even do after? He’d think of calling you, of reaching out somehow, but the memory of your last fight, the bitterness in your voice, the way you’d shut him out… it held him back.

One evening, as you sat alone in the players' lounge, your forehead pressed against the back of the sofa, you felt that familiar ache pulse through you, the one that came every time you thought of him. It was then that Coco came by, her familiar, steady presence filling the room as she settled down across from you, cross-legged on the seat in front of you. Over the past year, it was Ben that introduced you but, you and Coco had grown even closer, bound not just by shared victories and losses but by the pressures only someone like her could truly understand.

Coco tilted her head, her gaze warm but unwavering. “Alright,” she said, cutting through the silence. “What’s really going on? Are you… over him?”

You exhaled slowly, running a hand through your hair as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I wish I could say yes,” you murmured. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried to move on, focus on the game, on everything else, but… he’s still everywhere. Even when I’m doing well, even when I’m focused, it’s like… something’s missing.” Your voice dropped to barely a whisper. “It’s like I can’t fully shake him.”

Coco nodded, her expression both sympathetic and knowing. “I get it. You two had something real, something intense. But maybe this time apart is what you both need. I mean, look at you. You’re stronger now, on and off the court. Maybe that’s part of this whole journey, you know?”

You managed a faint smile, though your heart still felt heavy. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. It just… doesn’t always feel like enough.”

She reached out, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me. If he’s the right guy, he’ll figure it out, too. Until then? Focus on your game. Focus on you.”

Her words stayed with you, offering a small but steady comfort in the days that followed. You have been throwing yourself into training, pouring everything into the sport, trying to find solace in each match and each moment of growth. Somewhere out there, he was doing the same, and maybe, just maybe, this was what was best.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t completely smother the small spark of hope, that someday, somehow, your paths might cross again.

It was similar in the men’s locker room, Ben slumped forward on the bench, his elbows propped on his knees as he stared blankly at the floor, holding an uncapped bottle of water. Frances Tiafoe, who’d been eyeing him from across the room, exchanged a knowing glance with Taylor Fritz before making his way over.

“Alright, bro, spill it,” Frances said, tossing a towel over his shoulder as he leaned in. “You’ve been lookin’ like you’re living in some sad dog for weeks.”

Ben gave him a sidelong glance. “There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

Taylor rolled his eyes as he joined them, settling down on the other side of Ben. “Come on, man. We’re not blind. Ever since she blocked you, you’ve been… different.”

Ben scoffed, looking away, his voice low. “She didn’t just block me, man. She… she threw down, real hard. Said some things I thought she’d never say.”

Frances let out a low whistle. “Was that rough, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ben said, rubbing a hand over his face, his frustration mingling with regret. “It all just blew up. We were on a call, talkin’ like usual, and suddenly… it was like everything we hadn’t said just came out. She starts throwin’ things at me about how I’m not there, like… like I don’t care enough or not workin' hard enough. And it pissed me off, you know? I work just as hard, and it’s not like I’m sittin’ around, right?”

Taylor nodded, leaning back against the lockers. “So, what’d you do?”

Ben shrugged, his expression pained. “I pushed back, told her she couldn’t keep actin’ like she’s the only one workin’ for this. Told her ATP is just as tough, maybe even more competitive. Didn’t mean it that way, but she took it wrong. She thought I was tryin’ to downplay her game.”

Frances shook his head, giving Ben a sympathetic look. “Man, she must’ve felt hurt.”

“Yeah,” Ben muttered, a bitter laugh escaping him. “And next thing I know, I get this text. ‘This isn’t workin', we’re done.’ Blocked me on everything. Cold as ice, man. It’s like she flipped a switch, just… shut me out completely, as easy as shuttin' a door.”

Frances gave him a gentle nudge. “You still care about her?”

Ben’s gaze softened, a faint smile breaking through his frustration. “Yeah, man. She’s… she’s my girl. Even if she’s not my girl right now, you know?”

Taylor chuckled, nodding. “So, what’re you gonna do about it? Sit around here moping, or actually make a move?”

Ben sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What am I supposed to do? She’s made it pretty clear she’s done with me.”

Frances grinned, crossing his arms. “Bro, just ‘cause she blocked you and sent a text after you called her game easy, doesn’t mean it’s over. She’s mad, yeah, but she’s probably missin’ you just as much. You just gotta show her you’re willin’ to do what it takes.”

Taylor nodded in agreement, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “And it doesn’t have to be some big romantic gesture, man. Sometimes, it’s the small things. Something to let her know you’re still thinkin’ of her, still care. You know where we're at next, right?”

Ben chuckled, shaking his head. “And do what? Just show up at her hotel room? She’s liable to call cops on my ass for that shit, bro.”

Frances laughed, shrugging. “So what? At least she’ll know you tried! Don't go doin' that though. Look, I’ve been with my girl for years now, and sometimes, you gotta be willing to look like a fool to show her you care.”

Ben leaned back, their words sinking in. He could still feel the sting of the things she’d said, the accusations she’d thrown at him like he didn’t care, didn’t work just as hard. But he couldn’t deny that he’d made mistakes, too. He’d let his pride get in the way, said things he regretted, and let the frustration of it all get the better of him.

Frances nudged him again, his grin widening. “Think about it, man. You got two choices: sit here, feeling sorry for yourself until she finds some other guy, or actually do something about it and get her back, even if that means standing in the rain with a fuckin' speaker.”

Ben finally cracked a smile, looking between his friends. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

“Hey, maybe,” Taylor said with a shrug. “But at least we got girlfriends. And you? You got a chance to get yours back. Just gotta decide if she’s worth it.”

Ben sat there, mulling over their words as a new determination started to burn within him. Maybe he didn’t have all the answers, and maybe there was a lot he’d have to figure out. But if there was even a chance to fix things, to bridge that gap that felt so wide, he wasn’t about to let his pride hold him back.

As he left the locker room that night, he felt a resolve solidify within him. He’d find a way to reach out, to let her know that no matter how far apart they were, she was still the one he wanted. Because when it came down to it, she was worth every bit of the fight.

A week went by before a 1000 game flew in, and both ATP and WTA were present if not, nearby for the games. You couldn't care less what was at stake, anything was a win if it kept you occupied. The courts were almost empty, shadows lengthening as the sun beamed high above. You bounced the ball steadily, the rhythm calm, your focus laser-sharp. The only sounds were the muted thud of your shoes on the court, and your breath falling into sync with the beat of your earbuds. Nothing but you, the court, and the quiet.

But then, that voice broke through.

"Aw, c'mon, man!" A laugh, deep and full of that unmistakable Southern drawl. Your grip faltered, the ball hovering mid-toss. That laugh, it was a sound you hadn’t let yourself think about for months, one that held too much of him.

Ben.

Your pulse jolted, the memories flooding back, warmth and bitterness tangled in the knots of your chest. You gritted your teeth, tossing the ball high before slamming it against the court, the crack of impact sharp in the quiet. It almost felt satisfying, like you could obliterate the tension he brought, shatter it with sheer force.

Almost.

You readied another serve, the ball bouncing harder than necessary as you forced yourself not to look. But you could feel his gaze, that familiar weight of his eyes lingering on you. The pull was magnetic, almost maddening, and despite every ounce of resolve you’d built up, your gaze betrayed you, slipping over to catch a glimpse of him.

Ben, laughing with Taylor, curls tousled longer than before, his hoodie slung carelessly over those familiar, ridiculous short shorts. The same hoodie you'd worn too many times to count, drowning in its warmth during late-night snack runs and lazy Sundays. The sight tugged painfully, a cruel reminder of the little things you’d pushed down, tried to forget.

He caught you looking, and his laughter faded, his gaze holding yours for just a second too long. You gripped the ball tighter, the ache settling heavy, and forced yourself to turn away, channelling the flurry of memories into another sharp serve, a fierce crack reverberating across the court. You didn’t look back again.

Hours later, your body was tired, your mind a bit clearer. You were scrolling through your phone in the lounge, zoning out, when Coco dropped down beside you with that familiar, mischievous grin.

"Hey, you!" She nudged you, hands on her hips.

You eyed her warily. "What’s up, Coco? Awfully perky for...5:30p.m."

“We’re having dinner tonight. Big group. Wanna come?” Her tone was casual, a little too casual.

Your guard went up immediately as you dropped your phone to your lap. “Who’s ‘we all’?”

Coco shrugged, twirling a loose curl around her finger. “Me, Frances, Arthur… maybe another WTA girl or two. Just a fun little dinner. Nothing formal.”

You narrowed your eyes, reading the glint of mischief in hers. "Coco, don’t mess with me. He's not gonna be there, right?"

She tilted her head, pretending to look innocent, but the sly smile gave her away. "Well… he might show up, but that's on his own accord. I didn't mention anything to Ben and it’s not like anyone’s setting anything up! It’s just dinner."

Your stomach twisted, a sigh slipping from your lips as you looked away. “I don’t think so. Not after… everything.” Your voice softened the weight of old arguments and unsaid things hanging between the words.

Coco’s face softened, her hand finding your shoulder. “Look, I’m not saying you have to sit next to him or anything. It’s a big table. You can stay on the opposite end and ignore him if that’s what you need. But everyone misses you, it’s been ages since we all got together. We all need to see your pretty face off the court too, ya know?”

You hesitated, rolling your eyes, the ache of missing them settling somewhere deep, the sense of family you hadn’t felt in months tugging at you. After a long pause, you finally nodded, rolling your shoulders back as if bracing for a match. “Fine. But I’m serious, Coco, no funny business. If he starts anything, I’m out.”

Coco grinned, throwing her arm around you. “Girl, trust me. If anything, you’ll be giving him the funny looks. Just friends, no drama. Now, let’s go get you out of those sweats.”

Meanwhile, in the locker room across the court, Ben was doing his best to act indifferent as Frances nudged him for the third time.

"C'mon, man!" Frances said, leaning against the lockers with a knowing grin. "So you are coming to this dinner tonight, right? Don't make me beg again, I'll start singing.”

Ben tried to play it cool, leaning back with his arms crossed. “I don’t know, man. You really think it’s a good idea?”

Frances rolled his eyes. “Look, you’ve been moping for months. She’s not gonna make a scene in public, and especially not with all of us, and who knows? Maybe she’ll talk to you, be all civil. It’s worth a shot.”

Ben let out a huff, rubbing the back of his neck. “Civil? You remember the last time we spoke, right? She has me blocked on everything.”

Taylor, stretching nearby, smirked and chimed in. “Man, you got nothin’ to lose. At the very least, you’ll see her. I saw how you were after you caught a glimpse of her training earlier. Besides, Frances and Coco will keep her from killin’ you.”

“Kay, thanks,” Ben muttered, though a flicker of hope sparked under the sarcasm. He didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t shake the longing to see her again, to maybe fix even a sliver of what had been broken.

Taylor nudged him, grinning. “Hey, listen, if I wasn’t taking Morgan out tonight, I’d be there just for moral support. But hey, maybe next time it’ll be a double date. Me, you, Morgan and your soon-to-be girlfriend, just like old times.”

Ben shook his head, the thought both terrifying and oddly thrilling. “You’re jokin’, right? She’d probably throw her drink at me before she’d sit through a double date.”

“Only if you act like an idiot,” Frances pointed out, laughing. “Just be yourself, man. You can handle the heat on the court, you can handle this. And maybe tonight’ll be the thing that finally breaks the ice.”

Ben sighed, running a hand over his face before finally surrendering. “Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll go. But Frances, don’t expect me to be all… chatty.”

Frances clapped him on the back, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “Yeah, you say that now. But I know how you get around her, man. Just don’t chicken out. Remember, we got your back.”

Ben couldn’t help but smile nervously, feeling a strange mix of dread and anticipation tighten in his chest. He wasn’t sure if this dinner would be a chance at redemption or just a painful reminder of how far they’d drifted, but one thing was clear, he was tired of hiding from whatever was left between them.

You walk into the restaurant and let Coco lead you to a long table, feeling an odd mix of nerves and determination fluttering in your stomach. Your outfit is cute but simple, just a sweater and leggings; just enough effort to feel put together without trying too hard. You take a seat between Coco and Arthur Fils, with Frances across from you. There’s an empty chair across from Arthur, and for some reason, that empty space makes your heart beat a little faster, feeling torn between wanting and avoiding Ben there.

As everyone settles in, you catch Coco’s eye and mutter, “Please tell me he’s not actually coming.” She just shrugs with an easy smile.

Moments later, as the group banters along, about to order drinks, Ben strolls in, catching you entirely off-guard. He’s slightly out of breath, apologising to the group with that familiar grin, explaining he’s late because he’d just finished showering after practice. You can’t help it, you nudge Coco under the table, whispering through gritted teeth, a frustrated, “Great.”

Coco just gives him a casual greeting, and you force yourself to turn back to the table, focusing your attention on ordering a glass of wine, pretending not to notice him as he takes that empty seat across from Arthur, just barely within your view, diagonally. But as he sits down, you feel his eyes on you, and for a brief moment, you glance up and catch him staring, his face almost dazed.

You’re caught off-guard by the look in his eyes. His breath seems to hitch, his big brown eyes wide and you can see a faint blush creeping up his neck as he stares at you, almost like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. There’s a softness in his expression that you weren’t prepared for, a kind of awe that makes your stomach twist with memories and longing. But just as quickly, you look away, turning your attention to your wine as Frances elbows Ben with a teasing hiss, “Be normal, man.”

Throughout the night, you manage to keep to yourself, mostly talking to the other WTA players or Arthur whenever he cracks a joke. You keep Ben at the edge of your vision, resolute in ignoring the way his gaze keeps drifting back to you.

Every once in a while, Ben attempts to draw you into the conversation, maybe a lighthearted comment or a direct question, but each time, you meet his gaze with a steely look, making it clear with just one glance that you’re not interested. When he tries again, you let your eyes meet his for a moment, long enough to show him you’re serious before turning away, cutting off his effort entirely, almost to say "not interested". Across the table, Frances raises his brows, murmuring with a barely hidden smirk, “Damn, she is good at this,” as Ben slouches slightly, clearly trying not to look embarrassed.

As dinner winds down, the plates are cleared away, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment alone. Inside, you take a deep breath, facing yourself in the mirror. You’d been bracing yourself for tonight, but nothing quite prepared you for how it would feel to see him sitting right there, looking at you with those big sweet brown eyes and a pout, filled with that same soft pleading that used to make you melt.

But tonight, all it did was remind you of those late nights waiting by your phone, checking it over and over for messages that came slower and slower until they just…stopped. It reminds you of the countless hours wondering if you mattered as much as you thought you did, replaying his empty promises and half-hearted reassurances that seemed to fade with each passing day. He couldn't expect you to take him back with a pout and some half-assed joke. But damn, was it a good attempt, he knew how to make you crumble, even if it wasn't his sole intention.

You force yourself to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you look in the bathroom mirror examining yourself with a sigh, applying a bit of lip balm with fingers that tremble just slightly. Anything to distract yourself, to remind yourself that you’re strong enough to face this without breaking, reminding yourself to keep that mask on. You straighten your posture, determined to push all those memories back down where they belong, buried.

But just as you step out of the bathroom, Ben is standing right there, leaning against the wall as if he’d been waiting for you. His eyes soften the moment they meet yours, and he opens his mouth, his voice just a whisper. “Can we…talk? Just the two of us?”

The look he gives you, hopeful, no, desperate, stirs something deep inside you, and you clench your jaw, wanting to say no, wanting to walk away without a second thought. But as much as you’d like to ignore it, part of you still aches for some kind of closure, maybe even just one honest conversation.

With a reluctant sigh, you nod. “Fine. Outside.”

As you head out the restaurant’s door, you quickly fire off a text to Coco:

me n Ben talking outside. brb.

You stuff your phone back into your bag, clutching it tightly to your shoulder as you step into the cool night air. Wrapping your arms under your chest, you try to keep yourself shielded from more than just the chilling breeze.

Ben falls into step beside you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. There’s a moment of silence as you both find your footing, the quiet thick with everything that’s been left unsaid. You glance sideways, catching him opening his mouth like he’s about to say something, only to close it, his shoulders shifting awkwardly.

“So… how’s the tournament going for you?” he starts, his tone casual, a little too casual.

You blink, trying not to roll your eyes, feeling the irritation growing. Really? But you bite back and just sternly say, “Ben.”

He rubs the back of his neck, glancing up at the streetlights overhead. “Sorry, yeah, that was- uh, okay.” He lets out a breath and shuffles closer, his voice almost a murmur. “I just… I wanna make this right. Another chance- Just thought maybe… you know, talkin’ would be easier if…”

“Ben, stop.” You sigh, tightening your grip on your bag strap. “Stop being weird. Just… just say what you have to say, and let’s get this over with. Let's not make this longer than it needs to be, I've got shit to do tomorrow.”

He glances at you, brows knitting together. For a second, he looks almost frustrated, like he’s holding back something sharper, something rougher. But he lets it pass, letting out a long, resigned breath. “Fine. I’ll just ask one thing.”

You arch an eyebrow, scepticism thick in your voice. “One question. Shoot.”

His voice comes out softer, edged with a hesitant curiosity as if he knows it’s a stupid question but can’t help but ask. “What hotel you stayin’ at?”

You let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head. “The Merrion.”

His eyes widen slightly, a small, stupid smile breaking on his face. “No way… me too.”

You sigh, looking up at the night sky, feeling the inevitability of whatever this night is becoming. Of course, he’s at the same hotel. Only Ben could make the universe align like this. And only Ben would think of a stupid question like that. He shifts his weight, stepping closer, his gaze steady.

“Look,” he starts, “it’s just a short walk back, twenty minutes or so. Just… give me that time. Just enough to walk back. Let me talk. And then you can go to your room and go to bed. How 'bout it?”

There’s a hopeful edge in his voice that you can’t ignore, and for a moment, your resolve falters. It’s ridiculous, this is exactly the sort of thing he would come up with, some half-baked plan to get you to keep listening, to keep him around just a little longer. You want to roll your eyes, to brush him off, but something about the way he’s looking at you, those earnest, brown eyes so damn full of longing, makes you sigh.

“Fine,” you mutter. “But if you get weird again, I’m out. No small talk, you know how much I hate it.”

A small grin creeps onto his face, and he falls into step beside you, a little closer than necessary, his arm brushing against yours as you start down the quiet street. For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, just walks alongside you, letting the silence settle around you both. But then, in that familiar southern drawl, his voice comes softer.

“Y’know, I've been thinkin’ ‘bout us a lot… probably more than I should.”

You keep your eyes on the sidewalk ahead, willing yourself to stay unmoved. “And?”

He swallows, his gaze tracing your profile, softening with each word. “I messed up,” he admits. “I know I did. I shoulda… been there more, answered more, I dunno. Shoulda been better at handlin’ it.”

You nod slightly, keeping your face blank. “Mhm, you should've.”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his expression, but he doesn’t let it throw him off. “You think I didn’t feel it too? That whole time, it felt like- hell, like I was losin’ you, like somethin’ was slippin’ right outta my hands, and I couldn’t do nothin’ to stop it.”

You feel the tension in your shoulders loosen just a fraction, though you keep your arms folded as a kind of armour. His words settle into the silence, raw and rough, and you can feel him glancing over, waiting for some kind of response. But you keep your gaze forward, biting back the little stirrings of emotion that are beginning to creep in.

He keeps talking, voice low and steady, drawing you in without giving you a chance to look away. “I’m not tryin’ to make excuses, alright? I know I coulda tried harder. But it’s like… the more I tried, the harder it got. The distance, the time zones, the schedules… it all just made me feel like I couldn’t keep up. And I just didn't know how to juggle it and that's my fault.”

You shake your head slightly, finally glancing over at him, the faintest of smirks tugging at the corner of your mouth. “So this is your way of apologising?”

He laughs, a little sheepish. “Guess I’m not real good at it, huh?” He nudges you with his shoulder, a familiar, easy gesture that makes your arms slowly loosen. His hand brushes your arm, just for a second, and a warmth blooms where his fingers graze your skin as if your body’s memory of him can’t help but respond.

“Look,” he says, his voice dipping softer, “I just… I miss you so much. Like hell.”

The honesty in his tone hits you hard, unravelling the cold exterior you’ve worked so hard to keep up. He keeps his eyes on you, watching your face carefully as if gauging your reaction. You feel your resolve slipping even more, your arms slowly falling to your sides, your heart aching as you fight against the wave of warmth that’s threatening to break through.

“Ben…” you start, barely a whisper, but you don’t know what to say, feeling torn.

He moves a little closer, his eyes wide, pleading, like he’s trying to hold onto every inch of you he can. “I know I messed up, okay? But I don’t wanna lose you. Not for good. Please, Y/N. Give me one more chance, you won't regret it 'n if I fuck up bad, you can do whatever, however; I deserve it but please. Just one more chance.”

You press your lips tight together, feeling your heart tighten as his words sink in, as he stands there looking at you with that same vulnerability you’d once fallen in love with. For a second, you forget the hurt, the sleepless nights, and you’re left with just him, the version of him that’s open, sincere, the Ben you’d once held so close.

The walk to the hotel stretches out as he keeps talking, spilling out and laying his heart bare with that easy, boyish charm that only he can pull off, and little by little, you feel your icy exterior start to melt. He talks about his time away from you, how he admired you from videos, watched highlight reels, his endless hours at night going through photos and texts; the whole lot. He cracks a joke, and despite yourself, you smile, trying to hide it but failing. He nudges you again, grinning as he sees the hint of laughter breaking through your guard.

He apologises over and over, more earnestly each time, his voice steady and low, and you can hear the regret, the guilt, the need to make things right. By the time you reach the hotel entrance, you’re feeling something dangerously close to hope, your heart betraying you, making it harder and harder to keep up the facade.

You glance over at him, catching the way his eyes soften as he looks at you as if you’re the only thing he can see. He’s staring, the blush from earlier creeping back up his neck, and when his hand brushes yours one last time, you don’t pull away.

You stand just outside the hotel, a faint chill brushing past as the streetlights cast a warm glow around you. You shift on your feet, glancing up at him, your eyes soft but determined.

“Can I talk?” you ask, breaking the quiet, your voice barely above a whisper. The first thing you had actually said this entire time.

Ben raises an eyebrow, leaning in with a playful smirk. “Talk? What else have we been doin’ for the last twenty minutes, girl?”

You roll your eyes and reach out to smack his arm, earning a chuckle from him. “Fine then. Can we go up to your room?” you add, a small, daring smile tugging at your lips.

Ben’s eyebrow quirks higher. “My room, huh?” His gaze narrows, teasing you with that familiar glint. “What exactly ya got planned, sweetheart?”

You swat him again, harder this time, and he laughs, raising his hands in mock defence. But then you drop the smile, your voice softer. “I wanna talk about what I did, Ben. I messed up too.”

The teasing fades from his expression as he studies your face, searching. After a pause, he nods and gestures toward the lobby. “Alright, then. Let’s go talk.”

In the elevator, silence hangs thick in the air, tension as familiar as it is unspoken. You don't even notice, spending your time stilling your breath and running through everything you want to apologise for. When you reach his room, you head over to the small couch by the window and settle in, tucking your legs under you and giving him a steady look.

“Ya gettin’ comfortable already?” he jokes, leaning against the wall, his eyes dancing with that old spark that makes you ache.

You try not to smile, steeling yourself for your confessional. “Can you be serious for a minute?”

His smile fades as he walks over, sitting across from you, his gaze intense and focused. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything you’ve held back.

“I shouldn’t have put so many expectations on you,” you begin, your voice wavering. “You’ve got your own life, your own competitions, your own dreams. All this constant travelling, the different time zones… it’s not fair to expect you to be there every time I needed you at the drop of a hat. You get burnt out too- God. I never even asked how you were before I'd launch into my own day.”

You bite your lip, blinking back tears as they start to blur your vision. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve been more understanding, given you more grace.” Your voice catches, barely a whisper now. “And what I said… on that call… it was cruel, Ben. I was mean and unfair, and you didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of it. At all. I wouldn't want myself back after all I had said and done.”

As a tear slips down your cheek, Ben’s face softens, and he reaches out without hesitation, his hands cupping your face as he brushes the tear away. His thumb lingers on your skin, his gaze is unwavering, and then he leans forward, pressing the gentlest kiss to your temple, another to your forehead, and a final one at the crown of your head, his hand resting tenderly against your hair.

You let out a shuddered breath, your hands covering his as you finally let everything pour out. “I miss you so much,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I miss everything about you… the way you laugh, your ridiculous voice…” Another tear rolls down, and you don’t try to hold back. “I miss the way you’d talk about cars or food for ages, and you’d make everything feel so normal, even when my life was a mess. Without you, it’s like this haze I can’t shake. I just… I miss you. I barely recognise myself these days.”

Your body shakes with the sobs you’ve tried so hard to bury, and Ben doesn’t hesitate. He pulls you close, wrapping you in his arms like he could shield you from all the pain, all the regret. He holds you there, one hand smoothing over your hair, his lips pressing soft, tender kisses to your forehead and cheeks, murmuring gentle words against your skin.

“S’all right, darlin’,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

You cling to him, burying your face into the crook of his neck, as his hands trace soothing circles along your back. Your sobs gradually quiet, but your breaths are still shaky, each exhale unsteady.

“I’m so sorry, Ben,” you manage, voice barely audible.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Hey now,” he murmurs, his tone warm and grounding. “We both made mistakes. Ain’t just on you, alright? Takes two to mess up, but it takes two to fix it too. We can fix, can't we?”

You nod, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, feeling a little of the weight lift, softened by his words.

Ben tilts your head to hold your gaze, his own eyes glassy. “Can’t tell ya how many times I thought about callin’ ya or flying to ya,” he admits, his voice low. “How many times I’d pull up your name, wonderin’ what you’d say if I told ya all the things I wished I’d said. But I was… hell, I was scared, darlin’. Thought maybe I’d screwed up too bad, and you’d moved on.”

You shake your head, a small, breathy laugh escaping. “I couldn’t...I could never.”

He strokes your hair gently, his lips brushing your forehead once more. “Guess we’re both a couple of fools then, huh?”

You laugh softly, the sound wet and trembling as he pulls you back into his arms. You lean into him, letting yourself feel the warmth of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart, grounding you. Wrapped in the quiet, tangled together, you both hold on a little tighter, feeling the rawness of your honesty and the comfort of finally, finally being close again. In the safety of his arms, you feel, for the first time in so long, a sense of peace, letting the unspoken words settle around you like a quiet promise.

Ben’s hand rests on your cheek, his thumb tracing small circles as he learns your face all over again, making your heart flutter. His fingers move slowly, grazing down to your jaw, then up again, threading into your hair. You let your eyes close for a moment, his gentle touch working its way through the tension of the night, and a small, contented sigh escapes you. For the first time in weeks, you feel relaxed and content.

“Gettin’ comfortable, huh?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, though there’s a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He leans in, giving one final push to a stray strand of your hair before tilting his head toward the bed across the room. “C’mon, darlin’. This couch is barely holdin’ us together.”

You hesitate, but Ben’s already moving, holding out his hand as he stands up. His grip is strong, guiding you as you follow him to the bed, and he lets out a soft chuckle as you settle beside him. His arm drapes around you, pulling you close as you lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against you. The warmth is so consuming, cocooning you immediately.

Ben smiles down at you, a playful glint in his eye, and as his fingers find your hair again, he starts twirling a strand between his fingers. “So,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on the top of your head, “ya still gonna keep me blocked, huh?”

You roll your eyes, smirking. “Fine,” you reply, unlocking your phone with a playful huff. You find his name, well, technically his new contact name since you’d deleted him in a fit of anger, and type a single white heart emoji, pressing send.

The vibration of his phone buzzes beside him, and he pulls it out with a grin, holding up the glowing screen. “There it is. Knew ya couldn’t resist me,” he says, laughing as he pulls you in close as he kisses your temple.

But just as you relax against him, you notice a missed notification. It’s a text from Coco, her reply to your earlier message asking where she’d disappeared to after dinner. You hesitate, then, instead of texting back, you tap the Facetime icon, feeling a strange urge to share this quiet moment, finding words couldn't suffice, nor were you in the mood to type out a lengthy paragraph.

The call connects, and Coco’s face appears, a gasp escaping her as she spots you two tangled up in Ben’s bed, nestled together with his arm around you.

“Oh my god! Yes!” she cheers, loud enough to make Ben chuckle. You hear laughter and cheers in the background too, and Coco turns the camera, revealing the whole dinner table watching with knowing smiles.

"Coco, this was a set-up plan, huh?" you giggle as you see the entire friend group on the other end.

"Somewhat, but blame Morgan and Taylor, not me. They did all that," she throws the blame as she points the camera over to them. Frances, Morgan and Taylor wave and Frances yells “Look at Ben! Already got her in bed, huh?”

Ben rolls his eyes, but a faint blush colours his cheeks. He pulls you closer, his hand resting protectively around your shoulders as he grins.

“Hey now,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “This one’s special. Ain’t like any other. My lucky charm.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words, and you’re so focused on him that you barely notice Coco and the others making gagging noises before Ben reaches out, ending the call on your phone with a smirk. Then he turns back to you, his eyes soft, filled with something that feels dangerously like forever.

He leans in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender, each second lingering with quiet promises. And in the warmth of his arms, your heart finally feels at home, exactly where it belongs.

#azzie asks #ben shelton #benshelton #ben shelton x reader #atp tennis

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saragarnier · 8 months ago

Text

TENNIS LESSONS

pairing: jannik sinner x reader

Warning: none, just fluffy

Summary: Jannik teaches y/n how to play tennis

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“Come on, darling. How much time do you need to change clothes?” Jannik asked through the closed door; you two decided to play a quick game on the court even if you had never played tennis before. It was Jannik’s idea and you immediately agreed, deciding that you needed a proper outfit.

For that reason you bought a tennis uniform without his knowledge.

“I’m coming, just give me one more minute!” You said, smiling a little bit and looking at the mirror: you liked how the uniform was on you but you were also tense because you didn’t know if Jannik would have appreciated.

You sighed, then you took a deep breath and you opened the door, exiting the bathroom and looking at him.

Jan looked at you, speechless for some minutes.

“Y/n” he whispered your name, lookin at you in the new uniform. “Holy shit, you’re amazing in that uniform.”

You blushed at hsi compliment but you really appreciated it; you smiled and walked towards him.

“Do you like it?” You asked, smiling softly.

He put his hands on your hips and he smiled, leaving some kisses on your cheeks and after that on your neck.

“Do i like it? I fucking love it. God, you’re so beautiful darling, i’m the luckiest man in the world.” He said, hugging you and finally kissing you on the lips; you kissed him back and smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Now i’m properly ready for our little match.” You whispered to his ear, smiling.

The Italian smiled and kissed you again, then he took his bag and wrap the other arm on your shoulders, smiling.

“C’mon, let’s go to the court” he smiled, placing a kiss on your head before opening the door to let you pass. “Girls first.” He added, smiling.

“Are you letting me pass first just because you’re a gentleman or because you want to look at my ass?” You chuckled, biting your bottom lip.

“Maybe… you’ll never know.” He joked, taking your hand and smiling.

You two reached the court in just seven minutes by foot and you smiled when you two entered the court together, hand in hand.

“Okay, now… you never played tennis before, haven’t you?” He asked, giving you one of his rackets; you immediately took it and your eyes widened when you felt how heavy it was, more than you were expecting it to be.

“No, i never played tennis so you have to teach me everything.”

Jannik smiles at you and he gently hit the ball to pass it to you; you tried to stop it with your racket but you failed miserably. He laughed while you blushed, embarrassed by your skill in NOT hitting the ball.

“Try again love, you just have to gain some confidence with the racket. It’s like an extension of your arm and it’s difficult to train your mind in understanding it. Just keep trying and you will improve okay? Let me put my hat on and i will help you doing that.”

The Italian shook his head a little bit, then he used both his hands to adjust the hat on his head; he had so many hair that he needed some minutes to adjust everything, being sure to have a good view of the entire court. After that, he walked towards his girlfriend that was some meters away, trying to hit the ball with the racket he gave her. He perfectly knew that it was too big for her but he didn’t have any other racket, so they had to adapt to it.

“Okay, let me help you with the service.” He said, walking towards you. He put his hands on your hips, positioning you in the right place, then he helped you with the posture. “Okay, that’s better. Normally you have to hit the square that’s diagonally opposite you but this time we’ll make an exception, okay? Just try to hit the ball, we should start with that.”

You was so nervous even if you knew that the only person that could have seen your incapacity of playing tennis was your boyfriend; you knew that he wouldn’t have made fun of you, but you were nervous anyway.

You really wanted to playing tennis decently for him, you wanted to do that to make him happy. It was your boyfriend’s biggest passion and you wanted to live that too, because you wanted to know everything that could make your boyfriend happy.

Somehow you were able to hit the ball, even if it was not hard enough; the ball bounced in your side of the field but Jannik didn’t say anything, he wanted for the ball to bounce again in his side and he hit it gently, aiming at your right to be sure that you would have been able to hit it with your forehand.

Somehow you did it and you both cheered, even if the ball stopped against the net.

“Good job love! You’re doing amazing! Honestly i thought you would have missed every single ball.” He jokes, smiling at you. You looked at him and put your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? It’s that so?” You joked, smiling darkly at him. “If that’s the case i think that tonight i will undress myself and I would not ask your help at all!”

Jannik widened his eyes and look at you, speechless.

He couldn’t believe you just said that in a public place, even if you two were the only ones on the court and even if no one was on the stands. He didn’t expect it but he immediately regretted making that comment.

“I’m sorry! Y/n you know that i was only joking! You’re the best tennis player i ever met in my career and i will definitely lose this game because you’re too much stronger!” He immediately said, biting his lip while saying that. “But can i took that uniform away this night? I swear that’s the only thing I thought about since i saw you with that!”

You laughed and you recovered the ball, coming back into position and trying to hit it as hard as you could while Jannik was still talking. He was so focused in trying to be forgiven about what he said that he didn’t realize you just made your service.

The ball didn’t bounce in the right square so it would definitely have been a fault in a normal match, but since he said the rules would have been different for their match, you made a point.

Jannik really tried to save the ball to the last but he couldn’t, that’s why you rejoiced, happy about the point you just made.

“That’s not fair! I was still talking!” He immediately replied, putting his hands on his hips, pouting.

“It’s not my fault if you weren’t paying any attention!” You replied, smiling. “I made a point! Ha! What were you saying, mh?” You teased him, smiling.

“Oh, you’re in so much trouble.” You said, waking towards you with an evil smile; you immediately started running away but he was much more trained than you and he immediately stopped you, wrapping his arms around you. “Where are you going darling?”

When Jannik started to tickled you, you immediately started laughing. “No, please stop!” You begged him to stop, still laughing and trying to escape from his grip. You kept laughing and laughing for minutes that seemed like hours, then he finally stopped and he just put his hands in your hips, bringing you closer to his body. He was definitely taller than you and you had to looked up to meet his eyes.

You stayed silent for some minutes, trying to catch your breath while looking at him, smiling softly.

He caressed your cheeks and smiled, then he lowered himself and left a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you so much.” He said, giving you shivers.

There’s something about his eyes that always made you feel special; you knew that you would have fallen in love with those eyes the second you saw them and the second you felt their effects on you.

“I love you too, loser.” You said, kissing him before he could reply

#jannik sinner #atp tennis #atp tour #tennis #tennis player #jannik sinner x reader #x reader #oneshot #fluff

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forgave-me-not · 5 months ago

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ROUTINE ANALYSIS ☆ J.S.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jannik smiles and pulls you into him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Routine analysis?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, wait," Jannik calls after you.

"Yes, dear?"

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

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

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

#ava writes!!#jannik sinner imagine #jannik sinner x reader #fluff #atp tour #jannik sinner #tennis #there's an unintentional parallel in this one guys #ficlet #my writing #txt post

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kendraontmblr · 10 days ago

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MASTERLIST

(requests are open)

────────

— [ 18+ ] most of my writing includes NSFW content. if you’re under 18, i kindly ask that you don’t read or interact with these posts. minors, please avoid sending NSFW requests or messages.

────────

BEN SHELTON

1. sweet nights sfw

2. training with benefits nsfw

JANNIK SINNER

⤷ coming up:

1. off the record nsfw - jannik sinner x skysports interviewer!reader [requested imagine]

CARLOS ALCARAZ

1. crave you nsfw

2. crave you pt. 2 nsfw

────────

with love always,

kendra

#kendraontumblr #masterlist #imagines #tennis imagines #ben shelton #ben shelton x reader #jannik sinner #jannik sinner x reader #carlos alcaraz #carlos alcaraz x reader #tennis #atp tennis #fanfiction

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antadogoias · 10 months ago

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I need people to write fanfics with tennis players (especially with my beloved Andrey Rublev). Like, I see so many people obsessed with F1 and I see so many fanfics about F1 boys. I need this from tennis fans.

#andrey rublev x reader #andrey rublev #tennis #atp boys #i found some fanfics but they are so little to read

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talkteatennis · 1 year ago

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Body

Summary: Andrey Rublev trying to get reader to go on a date.

Warnings: body conscious conversation, no smut but suggestive

“Andrey you are a twig,” y/n stated as you held his wrists in your hands as the tall lanky boy looked at you in shock.

“Am not, I am very toned” Andrey stated releasing his wrists from your grip to flex his biceps. Which made areas of your body tremble but you knew he wasn’t wrong.

All that played in your mind, was the battering you would receive from the media about not being one of those ‘twig bitch models’ he usually went for.

“Fine you are not. Now leave me alone please,” you said walking away from him trying to exit the players lounge only for him to rush in front and stop you from leaving.

“Y/N, you have been making excuses for why you can’t be with me! Why is that?” You sighed at his words. It was something he would never understand actually you thought.

“Because your not my type.” Y/N simply said, because it was easier this than to have to explain how you really felt.

“If thats so then why do you look at me as if you want to undress me?” He said getting closer and you were taken aback. You hadn’t realised Andrey had noticed your occasional glances but how could he not it’s not like you tired to hide it very well anyway.

Stammers and mutterings of words flowed out of your mouth but nothing to form coherent sentences.

“Its just dinner Y/N” he said looking at you as his hand gently caresses your cheekbones.

“No” you said again making herself clear and then leaving but once again only to be pulled back. Y/N let out a sigh of frustration as you once again you were faced with Andrey’s handsome face.

“I’m not letting you go,” he said this time his strong hands firmly placed on your waist holding you still right in front of him. He didn’t care who saw them at this point as players were just squeezing past the two of them trying to enter and exit the lounge. He wasn’t dropping the subject till you explained yourself.

“I am fat okay and I don’t want to go on a date with you because the media will rip me to shreds for not being thin and beautiful like all the models you go for!” You said eyes welling up a little. Andrey squeezed your sides tighter shaking his head before looking you in your beautiful eyes.

“Thats crazy. You are not fat you are cruvy in all the right places Y/N and I love it,” Andrey said letting his hand roam from your waist to your hips then butt which made blush, “ I don’t care what they think about you and you shouldn’t either and if they want to say stuff about the way you look I’ll put them in their place.” You smiled at his words and he leant in to kiss her but she stopped him by placing a finger on his lips just separating them.

“Okay, I will go to dinner only if you are sure that you want to date a poc, curvy woman,” you said looking him dead in the eyes.

“Oh I am sure. The things I would kill do to you right now,” he said whisperig the last part lustfully into your ear sending a warm an fuzzy feeling below your stomach.

You removed your finger slowly making sure to look him in the eye then gently placed your lips on his.

#x reader #imagines #imagine #love #andrey rublev #Andrey rublev imagine #Andrey rublev imagines #Andrey rublev x reader #Andrey rublev fan fiction #Andrey rublev blurb #tennis fan fiction #atp tour

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b0r3dtod3ath · 6 months ago

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i’d love to request a fic where maybe ben gets asked about you (his gf) at a post game interview and he just spills about how much he luvs u <333

Cw: fem!reader (she/her)

An: thank you for requesting!!!! I hope you like it.

Ben had just come off the court after a hard-fought victory, his veins buzzing with post-match adrenaline. As he stepped into the press room, he was met with dozen of camera flashes and eager reporters which he was already used to by now. As he settled into his seat and adjusted the microphone in front of him, he flashed his trademark grin, filling fans’ stomachs with butterflies.

“Ben, congratulations on the win!” one reporter began. “Your performance was outstanding. How are you feeling right now?”. He smiled, running a hand through his slightly damp hair. “I’m feeling great. It was a tough match, it wasn’t so easy beating my opponent, but I’m glad I could pull through. The crowd was amazing, their support really kept me going”.

Next few questions were standard: strategies, key moments and his thoughts on the upcoming rounds. The player answered them with his usual confidence. Then, a reporter in the back raised her hand and asked a question that took him by surprise. “Hi, you seem to be on top of your game both on and off the court. We’ve heard rumours about your personal life. You recently shared a picture on Instagram with a girl that is assumed to be your girlfriend. How does she influence your game?” Ben’s eyes lit up and his expression softened at the mention of you. The room fell quiet, eager to hear about a mysterious girl that captured Ben’s heart. “Oh, you want to know about my girlfriend, huh? Well, where do I even start?” He took a deep breath, collecting all the racing thoughts of you. He leaned closer to the microphone, his eyes sparkling with affection “She’s incredible. She’s my biggest supporter, my rock. She keeps me confident and makes sure I don’t get too overconfident. Knowing she’s cheering on me gives me lots of strength”. A few reporters exchanged smiles and whispers, charmed at Ben’s emotional words. “Could you tell us a bit more about her?” another reporter asked.

“I mean.. Sure, her name is Y/N, and she’s my best friend and my biggest fan. We have been dating for some time now. She’s been there for me through thick and thin, and I can’t imagine my life without her. She helps me really think and look for good in every situation, pushes me to be a better version of myself, both on and off the court. She’s truly my inspiration”. A hint of blush crept onto his cheeks. The room fell even more silent than before, amazed at the confession. Then, the next reporter cleared his throat and brought the conversation back to tennis, but Ben’s mind was drifting to thoughts of you. He couldn’t wait to get home, to celebrate his victory. As the interview wrapped up, he felt a sense of relief and excitement. He pulled out his phone and smiled at your message where you congratulated him with way too much emojis, before sending you a quick text: “Just finished the interview. Can’t wait to see you. Love you <33”.

As Ben shared a peek into his private life that day, he became even more charming to everyone around, especially you.

June 1, 2024 (btw happy children’s day to everyone!)

#writers on tumblr #fan fic writing #atp tennis x reader #tennis imagine #tennis x reader #ben shelton imagine #ben shelton x reader

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idksmtms · 6 months ago

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Tennis Masterlist

A/N: Guys. I couldn't handle the deficit in fanfics about my fav tennis dudes so I had to do this. I had to. Requests for my tennis fics are OPEN so feel free to request whoever you want (from this list)!

Disclaimer: Though it is based off of real people, this is written purely for fictional purposes and for the sake of writing. No disrespect is intended to the real people portrayed/concerned in this scenario.

Carlos (Carlitos <3) Alcaraz

Request: Courtside - (Carlos Alcaraz x Actress!reader)

After gaining success from your latest movie, you are invited to watch the Wimbledon Men's Final 2023. You just so happen to be a certain player's favourite actress.

Request: Don't Be Nervous - (Carlos Alcaraz x reader)

Carlos is taking you home for the weekend to finally meet his family! It's totally normal to be nervous, right?

Jannik Sinner

Coming soon...

Holger Rune

Request: Just Like A Gentleman - (Holger Rune x reader)

Holger takes you out on a cute little dinner date!

Request: First Kiss - (Holger Rune x reader)

The first time you and Holger kiss!

Hubert Hurkacz

Coming soon...

Ben Shelton

Coming soon...

Jack Draper

Coming soon...

Others that I will only write for if requested!

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rvblos · 6 months ago

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hope ur doing well! i love ur work, and was wondering if u could wrote a ben shelton headcanon abt what he'd be like as a bf? thank uu 🫶🏻

sfw/nsfw headcanons - ben shelton

warnings: this contains nsfw so if you're not comfortable with it just dont read it !!

notes: i literally can't stop thinking about him so here are some headcanons!

sfw:

- he's so boyfriend energy

-he's be the most romantic guy you've ever met

-he looooves to take you out on fancy dates but he enjoys even staying home to watch a movie under a cozy blanket

-he is so supportive! and adores when you'd come to see him during important matches or even during practice.

-he knows he can always count on you, even when he loses he knows that your arms would always be open for him to comfort him after a loss.

-this man always has to touch you! physical contact is his love language.

-but not always in a sexual way, sometimes he just needs to feel your skin against his yk

-he'd slip a finger underneath your shirt and he'd start to trace little circles on your skin.

-he's so cute ugh

-loves to bring you flowers!!

-sometimes even a single rose could lift your mood

-loves having you caressing his curls!

nsfw:

- lets talk about his arms

- omfg and his shoulders

- the way you'd be gripping on them during sex makes his head spin and he'd become even harder than he already is

-it's so easy for him to find your weakest spots, he know them too well

- his arms would be circled around your waist as he pounds into you omfg

- and his finger would trace circular patterns on your skin

- "shhh.. baby its okay..." PLEASE

- he has the DEEPEST voice i swear to god

- like humming and moaning in the deepest tone ever

- "take it like a big girl" murmured in your ear ARE YOU CRAZY

- also i think hed be very vocal

- he whimpers A LOT trying to to change my mind

- especially when receiving head 😃

- "mhmm... please, oh please... faster.. mhm.."

#nina writes!🫂#ben shelton #ben shelton fic #ben shelton x reader #ben shelton headcanons #ben shelton smut #ben shelton fluff #smut #fluff #atp tennis #atp tour #tennis #tennis player

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alcqraz · 26 days ago

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★ summary — small little drabble of spending a lazy morning with ben

˖˙ ꔫ —★★★★ pairing: ben shelton x fem!reader ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★ content warnings. n/a ˖˙ ꔫ —★★ word count. 922.... ˖˙ ꔫ —★ genre. fluff.

★ authors note: for wes because her horny ass would not let me off the hook until i finished this. shout out to the tennis groupchat that i'm in that helped me out because they're all clinically insane about ben.

❛⠀⠀ requested by anon! idk who to tag

I feel like Ben would be the type of person who enjoys sleeping in. Not all the time, obviously, definitely not during tournaments, or the days leading up to tournaments- but those days where he can have you to himself, without the worry of his coach or team barging in at any given moment. Without the worry of the upcoming match, and the result that would unfold within in.

You'd wake up next to him, the little crack from the curtain that he forgot to close entirely assaulting your vision as the sun rises from the hills above. Grumbling to yourself of your boyfriends inability to close the curtains fully, because of course he wouldn't.

Ben, however, seems not to be disrupted from his slumber by the aggravating light that danced across the warm-lit room. He's off somewhere in la-la land, sleeping on his stomach, shirt discarded carelessly upon the floor. His head is tilted to the right- looking towards you, and for once he looks... peaceful. His eyes are fluttered shut, a soft smile or sorts stretched upon his lips.

Despite it being (technically) his fault as to why you were unable to fully sleep in, you can't help but to admire the view that had been placed in front of you. He always looked good, you were very much aware of that, but now- he looked cuter, adorable even. However, you were not to suffer alone at this time of morning. If you were awake, he damn sure as well should be too.

Slowly creeping upon him, your hands gently trace amongst the muscles that lined his toned back. Fingers caressing the warm skin from being under the covers for so long. He shifts in his sleep, mumbling something incomprehensible as the movement slowly jolts him awake, like soft waves rippling throughout a greater vast of ocean.

It takes a moment, Ben ostensibly slower and unhurried during the mornings where he had no actual duties to worry of. His eyes flutter open, dark eyes adjusting to the new found lighting of the luminous morning. His eyes are hazed with a sense of blur, mind confused for a beat of a second as he blinks slowly, pushing away the daze of being woken up.

You'd whisper to him- perhaps a good morning, or a soft hello that he loved to hear more than anything, your voice a seeking comfort he enjoyed having within his presence. It's only then does he recall the situation, that he finally, finally gets to fall asleep and wake up next to you. His lips curl into a stupid grin, eyes wrinkling as he does so. He's suddenly wide awake, or at least, more coherent than he was an instance ago.

He'd mumble a good morning, baby as he always did. Pivoting himself onto his back so he can get a better look of you, features tainted with a look that could only be described as pure affection. His fingers come up to brush against the side of your face, before laying upon the soft skin that laced your jaw. Ben pulls you in, pressing a soft kiss upon your lips, before leaning in for something more. He kisses all over, as he always did when he could have you all alone. Your lips, your forehead, the spot within your neck that made you squirm. He wanted you all, and he was going to have you.

But it wasn't how it would be of the many times before. Where the desire pooled in his lower stomach, reaching between his pants. It was not rushed nor full of lust, it was not a race for the finish line, but a need to worship you because fuck, how did he ever get so lucky?

His hands would trail all over, wherever he could get you, kissing you slowly whilst his fingers tangle into your hair, another resting upon your waist. It's deliberate and languid, breathing softly when he finally pulls away for a breath of air. Ben doesn't pull far away though, his lips just barely an inch away from yours. And god, he feels as if the wind has been knocked out of his lungs, the sight of you so beautiful and intoxicating. You're like a drug, an addicting one for that fact which he could never get over. He never wanted to get over.

He gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, eyes glazy as if he were looking at the center of the universe. Perhaps, you were his universe. He'd murmur, hushed words that were only for you, ones that no one else would ever get to know. Unable to leave his touch, you lean in once again, sensually yet delicately.

On the days like these, he finds it inexplicably hard to keep his hands off of you. Needing to keep you close, touching you at least in some sort of way. You'd tease him about it, of course, as anyone would, but in all honesty, it was nice to feel so wanted by someone.

And wanted, you were. Ben had it in him, knew all the ways he could make you feel like the only woman in the world, even during the most random of situations. He'd whisper to you, lips tracing just over your ear lobe, hair tickling across the sector of your face of how lucky he was to have you.

You can't help but to think that at the end of the day; you were the lucky one all along.

#william writes #ben shelton #ben shelton x reader #ben shelton fanfic #ben shelton fanfiction #ben shelton drabble #ben shelton imagine #ben shelton fic #tennis #atp tour #atp tennis #tennisblr #tennis x reader #tennis fanfic #tennis fanfiction #tennis rpf #ben shelton oneshot

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giveafike · 25 days ago

Note

i need a jealous ben fic NOW‼️

TLDR: just normal girlfriend!fem reader x Ben Shelton until you get hit on...

Word count + info: 5.1k! Whole lotta dialogue (lots of jealous/sassy ben and teasing). Mentions of Carlos Antagonist Alcaraz (NO HATE ALL LOVE! I HAD TO PICK SOMEONE, SORRY DONT CRUCIFY ME) Also, lwky wanted to fight y/n in this, idk stop being a bitch lwky.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW, jealous ben, possessiveness, neck kisses mentioned - that's about it!

Azzie Notes ✚: WOAH! NO "PLEASE" ANON??? hehe, I'm kidding, you got it. Made a twt btw (azziegivesafike), find me on there. I'll add anon asks there in my bio if you still want to ask stuff without feeling bad <3 but we can talk and yap over there! spoilers on there too.

When this goes up, i should be wrapping up the next Benny post (NSFW)... so keep an eye out! Halloween special coming out on Halloween too! Sorry for starving u guys for so long, but there's stuff on the way!

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Yours - B.T.S.

It's a perfect day in Monte Carlo. The Mediterranean sun blazes bright over the red clay courts and a salty breeze from the sea drifts in on the warm air. The tournament grounds are buzzing with energy, with players, coaches, and friends milling about. You’re seated in the empty stands, overlooking an outdoor practice court as Ben works through his drills. The clay glows a rich terracotta, and each of Ben’s serves echoes powerfully across the court, every stroke executed with his usual, intense focus. Sweat beads on his brow and neck, tiny rivulets rolling down his face, yet his focus never wavers. His damp curls cling to his forehead as he catches his breath between points, his shirt sticking in faint ripples across his torso. You smile, watching him move, not just admiring his talent but also the way he pours himself into every swing, even for a practice session.

You and Ben have been dating for just over a year, and despite both your schedules, you make time to see him, even if it’s only during practice rounds and training. He’s always been strong, both in his love for you and in his commitment to his sport. Having you there seems to centre him; he stands a little taller, pride filling each swing as he puts on a show to make you smile. You, of course, are always proud of him. You see the work and dedication he brings to everything, especially to you. To him, you’re a calm anchor in a sea of intensity, the one he confides in, his steady rock.

Ben’s love for you feels inevitable. Your humour, your intelligence, and your quiet confidence make you a magnetic presence. You’re not just his girlfriend; you’re his best friend, his advisor, the one who helps him open up. You’re his partner in every sense. However, your natural magnetism does bring on many others, and today was no different.

As Ben finishes a rally, you hear the scuff of trainers approaching. You glance up to see Carlos Alcaraz strolling toward you, hands casually tucked in his pockets, his grin as easy as ever, a small bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he starts, his warm Spanish accent wrapping around the word like a charm. He gestures to the empty seat beside you. “Mind if I join?”

You nod, shifting over slightly. You kept your tone light, you had caught his eye and made small talk before, you weren't one to be starstruck or dazed by now. “Of course, plenty of room, Carlos. How’s your day been?”

Carlos settles in, leaning back with a relaxed sigh. “Just finished my session. This weather’s amazing, a bit warm, no?”

You laugh softly. “It is, isn’t it? I’ve been trying to hide in the shade, I don't know how you tennis players handle the heat.”

Carlos chuckles, casting a look toward Ben as he drills. “Ben’s looking strong out there.”

“He is,” you reply softly, eyes trailing back to Ben with a soft gaze, who, you know, can feel you watching him. Ben's tongue pokes out the side of his mouth as he squats, rocking from one leg to the other as he waits for the next serve, his eyes narrowed across the court. You couldn't help but stifle a small laugh, adoring the image ahead of you.

Carlos leans back, draping his arm casually along the back of your chair, not in a suggestive way but one that feels natural. At least, it doesn't feel like anything. You can't help but notice the closeness but brush it off. Carlos has always been friendly.

“So,” Carlos starts, turning slightly towards you, his dark eyes examining your face, “do you ever get bored watching all this tennis? Being around it every day?” There’s a playful tone to his voice, his dark eyes sparkling.

You laugh lightly, shaking your head as you look back to Carlos. “No, not when it’s Ben. He keeps things interesting and exciting. I love seeing him play”.

Carlos gives you a knowing smile, his eyes holding a hint of mischief, lingering a moment longer than usual. “Ah, yes. Lucky guy,” he says with a grin. “Must be nice to have someone always in your corner.”

“Yeah, I'd like to think so,” you say lightly, shrugging off the comment.

Carlos is charming, but it’s likely just friendly banter. You turn back to Ben, watching as he powers another serve into the clay, the impact sending a cloud of dust into the air. Both you and Carlos take a sharp inhale at the unexpected force of the hit.

You notice Ben’s shoulders tense, his jaw tightening as he catches sight of you watching. He wipes his brow with the back of his hand, and for a moment, his next few shots come off harder than usual, landing dangerously close to the lines, his movements more forceful, even a bit reckless, for a practice session. The ball slams into the ground with a fierce intensity, almost as if he’s competing, trying to prove something. You blink, then shake your head with a small smile. Maybe he’s just having a moment of intense focus.

Carlos clears his throat before returning his eyes to you. “So, will you be staying for long here?” Carlos asks, his tone conversational, yet you feel the conversation lingering on the edge of something more.

“Oh, we’re not sure. Might play it by ear,” you respond, glancing over at him. “How about you?”

“Depends,” he says with a playful shrug. “I may stick around if there’s something interesting keeping me here.”

You giggle politely, assuming he’s talking about tennis, but something in his tone gives you pause. You feel a flicker of unease but push it aside, convincing yourself it’s just your imagination.

Ben, however, is clearly catching on. His next few serves are downright explosive, practically booming throughout the court as the ball hits the clay with an almost competitive edge. When he looks over again, his eyes narrow slightly, his lips pressed into a firm, tight line. His hands are at his sides as he mutters to himself quietly. Between points, he glances your way, brows drawn slightly, muttering to himself just loud enough for you to notice. You catch the faintest pout tugging at his expression like he’s quietly vying for your attention. Between shots, he meets your eyes with a raised brow as if to say, 'Are you watching me?' You stifle a smile and arch an eyebrow back, letting him know you are.

Carlos leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, casually closing the distance a little. “You seem like you’re used to this lifestyle. Like travel, tournaments, attention ..all of it.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten used to it. It’s a different pace, but I only get to see glimpses of it when I-” you start to say, but your attention is pulled toward Ben, whose movements are starting to change.

Without warning, the ball cracks loudly off his racket, and he sends a blistering forehand down the line with an intensity that seems to echo across the court. His jaw is clenched, his brows furrowed, as he wipes his upper lip with the back of his hand. You blink, momentarily thrown, and struggle to refocus on Carlos, though Ben’s shift in mood has left you a bit unsettled. Is he just having an intense moment of focus, or did something happen to set him off? Whatever it is, his gaze shifts to you more often, dark, narrowed and brooding. You offer a small smile to yourself, more confused than amused, and turn back to Carlos, finishing off where you had left off, though Ben’s presence looms larger than ever.

On the drive back to the hotel, tension sits heavy in the air. Ben tosses his bag into the back seat with more force than necessary, shutting the door a little too hard as he slides into the driver’s seat. You scroll through messages and check in on group chats, but the quiet storm brewing beside you isn’t lost on you. His hands grip the wheel tightly, his jaw is clenched shut, his gaze locked on the road with an intensity that’s hard to ignore. With a sigh, you set your phone on your lap and glance over.

“You know, your forehand was on fire today,” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

He side-eyes you, his tone sassy as his lips pressed in a faint scowl. “Mmm. Sure.”

You raise a brow, undeterred. “Did you enjoy training? You seemed extra… um, focused.”

Ben lets out a sharp exhale, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “Focused,” he repeats, almost to himself. He’s quiet a moment longer, then shakes his head with a scoff. “Yeah, you could say that.”

You tilt your head, giving him a look. “Alright, spill. What’s up with you?”

Ben’s jaw tenses, and he keeps his eyes forward. “You really didn’t notice?”

“Notice what?”

He kisses his teeth with his tongue, clearly annoyed. “Carlitos,” he says finally, voice clipped. The name practically rolls off his tongue like a curse.

You blink, caught off guard. “Carlos?”

“Yeah. Sitting all close, leaning in, making you laugh,” he grumbles.

“Like he’s some kind of…” He shakes his head, muttering to himself. “Honestly, baby, you couldn’t see through that?”

A small lopsided grin tugs at your lips. “Ben, he was just being friendly.”

“Friendly,” he repeats with a scoff. His voice raises a bit as he glances over to you. “I know exactly what that kind of ‘friendly’ means. That's the kind of 'friendly' I was before I had my hands round you and I-”

"Ben! God, you can't be serious" You stifle a laugh, your jaw dropped as you look at him. Sassy Shelton came out strong today, clearly.

He sighs, running a hand over his face quickly. "Baby, he's not 'friendly'. That’s what he wants you to think. I know guys like him. Hell, I was a guy like him before you gave me a chance. Now he's trying to get your attention-- right in front of me, mind you -- and-”.

“Are you jealous, Ben?”

He gives you a look, eyes narrowed, though the blush creeping up his neck gives him away. “I’m not jealous. Like, the way he was actin’ around you, leanin’ in close, smilin’ too much. He was flirtin’, and you didn’t even notice - I just don’t like seeing some guy try to cozy up to you like that. ” He hesitates, then mutters, “Especially not while I’m right there.”

You chuckle softly, reaching over to place a hand on his arm. “Ben, I think you’re overreacting. Carlos is just... Carlos. It’s nothing.”

Ben shakes his head, still frowning. “You don’t get it. I’ve seen him pull that charm on other girls. He gets all friendly and sweet and cool, but it ain’t just for fun.”

“Well, I’m not other girls,” you say, squeezing his arm gently. “And I’m definitely not interested in anyone else but you.”

He stays quiet for a moment, his jaw working as he chews on your words. Finally, he exhales, his grip loosening slightly on the wheel. “I know… it’s just… I don’t like him thinkin’ he can try somethin’. I didn’t like the way he was lookin’ at you.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly amused now. "You’re really worked up over this, aren’t you? Were you pouting out there on the court?”

He huffs, looking away, a hint of a smirk breaking through as he rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

"I wouldn't but here you are, pouting, right in front of me." You tease, your voice lilting as you inch over to his face.

He lets out a deep breath, turning back to the road, his anger melting a bit but still lingering in his words. “I just think he should’ve backed off,” he mutters. “Especially when he knows you're mine".

“Ben, no one’s got my attention like you do. You know that. I'm yours.”

He finally lets out a reluctant smile, though he tries to hide it. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, his tone softer, “good. ‘Cause I don’t plan on sharing.”

The rest of the ride goes by easier as you talk about your own life, people and things, taking Ben's mind off of the court.

Later that evening, as you’re finishing up your skincare routine. The day's events have already faded from your mind, but you know Ben hasn’t completely shaken it off. He’s been quieter than usual since practice ended. Now he’s standing in the doorway, freshly showered, his hair damp, his grey t-shirt hanging loosely on his frame, and pyjama shorts slung low on his hips.

His hands are in his pockets, but his eyes are focused intently on you. He’s got that familiar look, pouty lips, eyes narrowed, the kind of look he gets when he wants to ask something.

You glance at him in the mirror and smile softly. “What’s up?”

Ben doesn’t respond right away. He pushes himself off the doorframe, stepping closer. “So...what did Carlos actually say to you today?” he asks, his voice quiet and soft.

The question catches you a little off guard, surely he can't still be on this. “Carlos?” you echo, frowning slightly. “You mean… earlier, at practice?”

He nods, but there’s no humour in his expression. “Yeah, baby. What’d he say?”

You chuckle softly, turning to face him. “Ben, come on, it was just a friendly chat. It wasn’t like that-”

“I didn’t say it was like that,” Ben cuts in, his voice sharper than usual, his tone still soft as he folds his arms over his broad chest, looking down at your face, almost with pleading eyes. “Just… tell me what he said.”

You hesitate, realising that he’s serious, the playfulness you expected absent. “He was just chatting. You know, we were talking about tennis, the match, practice…” you start, unsure why he’s so worked up. “At one point, he was asking if we, or was it just me? Whatever, asking if we were staying here and I said we haven't decided and then he said something about he might be sticking around. Like, if he found something ‘worthy,’ he’d stay longer or whatever.”

Ben’s jaw clenches, and he shakes his head slowly, bringing a hand up to wipe his face. “Worthy?” he mutters to himself, his expression hardening. His hands are still buried in his pockets, but you can see the tension in his shoulders. “He said that? Like, right to you? Exactly like that?”

You shrug, still not fully understanding why this has him so riled up. “Yeah, but I didn’t think anything of it. He didn’t mean anything-”

“Didn’t mean anything?” Ben interrupts, his voice climbing slightly, his hands waving exasperatedly. He steps closer again, almost looming over you. “He knew what he was sayin’. He knows how he sounds, baby. And you laughed at him.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Wait, you’re mad because I laughed?”

Ben huffs, looking down at you with frustration evident in every line of his body. “No, but babe- I’m mad ‘cause he pulled your attention away from me! You’re there to watch me, not talk to him. But he just slides in there, all smooth, and suddenly you’re caught up in some conversation with him, while I’m bustin’ my ass on court, looking over to see my girl caught my shot only to see some guy leaning over, making eyes at her!”

You bite back a smile at the raw honesty in his voice. He’s not playing games, not teasing, just genuinely upset. “Ben, I wasn’t ignoring you-”

“Well, you weren’t exactly watching me either!” he exclaims, cutting you off again. “I saw you, baby. You weren’t even lookin’ my way.” His voice softens, but it’s filled with frustration, his hand reaching for yours as he holds them, running his thumb over your knuckles. “You’re supposed to be there for me, and he’s over here making you laugh, takin’ your attention like it’s no big deal.”

You sigh, reaching out to rest your hand on his chest, trying to soothe the tension. “Ben, I’m always there for you. He was just making conversation.”

Ben’s eyes narrow and he drops your hands softly. He closes his eyes like he's mulling over everything before he suddenly opens his mouth to mimic Carlos’s voice, clearly irritated. “‘If you find somethin’ worthy, no?’” he says in a poorly executed accent, making you almost burst out laughing. “‘Maybe you’ll stay longer, si?’” He huffs, shaking his head. “What kind of friendly talk is that? He knows what he’s doin’. He talks like that on purpose.”

You can’t help but chuckle at his attempt to copy Carlos, even if you know he’s genuinely upset. “Ben, baby, stop. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” Ben stares at you, a pout forming on his lips again. “I’m ridiculous for wantin’ my girl to be there for me? For not likin’ that some other guy’s got your eyes on him when they should be on me?"

Your gaze softens as you look up at him and bring a hand up to his face, your thumb tracing a line along his jaw. “Ben, I was paying attention to you. Maybe not in every single moment, but trust me, you had my attention. You always do.”

He still looks unconvinced, his lips pressing into a tight line. “It didn’t feel like it,” he mutters. “Not when I saw you smilin’ at him. Like, really smilin’. I didn’t like it.”

You let out a soft breath, wrapping your arms around his neck, and pulling him closer. “Ben, I don’t care about Carlos. I only care about you.”

His hands finally find your body again, this time resting on your waist as he looks down at you, his eyes still stormy with frustration. “Yeah, well, he’s smooth, babe. And I don’t like sharing your attention with anyone. Not him. Not anyone.”

“Ben, you never have to. I’m all yours,” you reassure him, smiling as he finally relaxes in your arms, nestling himself into your neck as you feel a small smile against your skin, breaking through his earlier frustration. After a few seconds, he pulls away and stares at you for a long moment, then sighs deeply, the tension slowly leaving his body.

“Yeah… I know,” he mutters, sounding defeated but still a little stubborn.

You press a kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering against his skin. “Why don’t you let me help you relax, huh? Come here.”

He reluctantly follows as you guide him to sit on the vanity stool. His pout is still present, but the frustration is starting to ebb away. You grab one of your serums and start gently applying it to his face, massaging it into his skin. He closes his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh as you work on his stress.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” you tease softly, fingers working in small circles along his jawline.

“Yeah, but you love me,” Ben mumbles, his voice soft, his head leaning into your palm.

You smile, brushing your thumb gently over his cheek. “I do love you. But you’ve gotta stop worrying about Carlos. He’s not worth your time.”

Ben doesn’t say anything for a moment, just lets you continue massaging the cream into his skin, the tension slowly draining from his body. After a while, he murmurs, “You think Carlos would wanna try this skincare routine?”

You roll your eyes, chuckling. “Ben, I don’t care what Carlos would want.”

He cracks a smile, his eyes still closed, clearly pleased with your response. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t wanna share that either.”

You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to his lips, his hand finding its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. When you finally pull back, you see a small, content smile on his face.

“Feel better?” you ask gently, running your fingers through his damp curls. You gently place yourself on his lap, both of you sitting in front of the vanity mirror, skin glazed and soft.

“Yeah…” he admits quietly, nuzzling into your neck as his arms wrap around your waist. “I just… I just want you all to myself, baby.”

You press another kiss to his forehead, feeling him relax further as you gently play with his hair. “You already have me, silly.”

Ben hums softly, his lips brushing against your neck as he murmurs, “You’re all mine.”

And at that moment, all the jealousy melts away as he buries his face in the crook of your neck once again, smiling softly as your hands work their way through his curls, your touch easing all his frustrations into nothing more than soft, happy sighs and sweet murmurs.

The next day at the court, thinking maybe things have settled. After all, Ben had gotten everything off his chest last night, or so you thought. But the moment you take your seat near the sidelines, you see Carlos already lingering nearby, his eyes lighting up as soon as he spots you. His confident stride brings him over with the same swagger as yesterday, but this time there’s a shift. He’s more deliberate.

“Good morning,” he says, leaning casually on the railing. “Back to watch Ben again, eh?”

You nod, offering a polite smile. “Looking forward to it.” Ben's words and frustrations spin around your head, he wasn't one to overreact or be quick to be jealous, so seeing how upset he was yesterday, you knew this meant a great deal to him. You also felt more suspicious of Carlos, finding lingering undertones in his actions and words.

Carlos leans in, just close enough that you feel a flicker of discomfort. “You know, it must be hard, watching your boyfriend all day in this heat no? You must get so bored. Why don’t you come down to the lounge, we can grab a drink?” His tone is light, but there’s no mistaking the undertone. It��s flirty, persistent, and more than friendly. You can feel it, and it makes you shift in your seat. Ben might've been right to have been so built up about this.

“I’m good, thanks. I'm here for Ben,” your voice firm but still kind. You don’t want to cause a scene, but it’s clear he’s not taking the hint. You look across the court and see Ben shaking his racket a bit, his gaze leaving yours as he stares at the clay under him, his jaw clenched tight.

Carlos chuckles, ignoring the brush-off, his arm lingering along the back of your chair. “One drink can’t hurt, I promise I won’t steal you for too long.”

As he leans closer, you shift in your seat. At that moment, you catch sight of Ben, watching intently from across the court. He’s looking directly at Carlos, his expression sharp. There’s an intensity in his eyes you haven’t seen before, more than competitiveness, it’s protective.

Without hesitation, Ben strides over, his southern drawl thicker than usual. “Carlitos,” he says, each syllable measured, almost mockingly. “She’s with me, man.”

Carlos raises his hands, feigning innocence as he raises his eyebrows and smirks. “Relax, we were only talking.”

“Yeah? Then talk to someone else, she's not interested” Ben replies, his tone leaving no room for debate. Ben steps up onto the ledge, leaning over the rails, facing Carlos eye to eye.

“Alright, no harm. See you around.” Carlos smirks but backs off, tossing a wink your way before he leaves. Ben watches him retreat, his expression firm, his hand gripping the rail. His eyes are still trained on the Spaniard’s back, and you can see the fire in them.

“Ben,” you murmur softly, reaching for his arm, trying to calm him. “I told him I wasn’t interested.”

His gaze softens as he looks down at you. “I saw him, babe. Too close.” His accent draws out each word slowly, his voice still tight with frustration. “I don’t like the way he was lookin’ at you.”

“I handled it,” you say gently, standing up to face him. “And besides, I’m not interested in anyone but you. He was just trying to get under your skin.”

Ben’s gaze softens slightly, but there’s still that protective edge to him. His hand moves to your waist, pulling you a little closer. “I don’t care what he was tryin’ to do. He doesn’t get to talk to you like that. Not when you’re mine.”

You smile softly, resting a hand on his chest, feeling the tension slowly drain from him. “I’ve always been yours, Ben. You don’t have to worry about anyone else.”

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment, eyes closing as he exhales a shaky breath. “I know… I just hate seein’ anyone think they can….” His voice trails off, and he sighs, pulling you closer. You can feel his body start to relax, but there’s still an underlying frustration there. His hand tightens on your waist, the rail holding distance between you two and before you can say anything else, he sighs.

“I don’t want you sittin’ there no more,” he mutters, “You’re gonna stay with me.”

It’s not up for debate, he’s made his decision. And honestly, you don’t mind. He helps you come onto the court, holding you tight as he presses a kiss to your temple. Being by Ben’s side feels right, especially when he’s feeling this protective. You settle next to him, his arm draped over your shoulders, as he goes through the rest of his training. “Come on,” he murmurs. “Stay by me on my bench today, baby.”

After practice, Ben takes you to the player lounge. He’s quieter than usual, but you can tell he’s still stewing over Carlos. His leg bounces nervously as he sits beside you, his arm never leaving your waist. The lounge is almost completely silent, but all Ben can focus on is making sure Carlos doesn’t come anywhere near you again.

“Ben,” you say softly with a gentle smile, resting a hand on his bouncing knee, trying to ground him. “It’s over. He’s not gonna try anything. You made yourself clear.”

He lets out a frustrated breath, biting the inside of his cheek. “He better not.”

You tilt your head, watching him with a small smile. “You’re so worked up over this, huh?”

Ben glances at you, his lips tightening for a second before he sighs. “I just….” He trails off again, clearly struggling to find the words. “You’re mine, baby. That's all.”

You bite back a smile at the possessiveness in his voice. It’s extremely rare for Ben to be this openly jealous, but when it happens, it’s kind of adorable. You lean closer, your fingers brushing over the curls at the nape of his neck. “You don’t need to get all worked up. I only have eyes for one man.”

His body visibly relaxes at your words, the tension in his shoulders easing as you play with his hair. Ben’s cheeks flush slightly at the softness of your touch, and his eyes flicker to yours.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth softly. “Only you, Ben.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips before it breaks into that gummy smile you know and love, his cheeks tinting a slight shade of pink. His hand comes up to cup your cheek gently, and he leans into the kiss, pressing his lips against yours in a way that’s sweet and slow. It’s like he’s pouring all of his emotions into that one moment, letting go of all the tension that’s been building up.

After Ben pulls back from the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, you smile and gently run your fingers through his curls. He looks so at peace, the tension from earlier melting away, but you can’t resist teasing him a little.

“I didn’t know you could get so jealous,” you say with a playful grin.

Ben huffs a soft laugh, his eyes narrowing playfully as his cheeks flush. “I wasn’t that jealous,” he mumbles, but the way he bites his lower lip, the slight embarrassment in his voice, tells you otherwise.

“Oh really?” You arch a brow, leaning in closer so your lips brush the shell of his ear. “You didn’t sound jealous at all when you called him ‘Carlitos,’ like you were ready to throw him onto the court.”

Ben's blush deepens, and he buries his face in your neck, hiding his smile as you giggle. “Okay, maybe a little jealous,” he admits, his voice muffled against your skin. “But I don’t like guys like him hangin’ around you.”

You laugh softly, your fingers still toying with his curls as he nuzzles deeper into your neck, clearly flustered. “You’re so possessive, Ben,” you tease, your voice warm and affectionate. “It’s kind of cute.”

At that, Ben lets out a breathy, almost bashful chuckle, his lips brushing against your neck as he tries to stifle his own laughter. “Stop,” he mumbles, the smile evident in his voice. “You’re gonna make me blush even more.”

You tilt your head slightly, giving him better access to your neck, and he takes the invitation, pressing the softest, sweetest kisses against your skin. His lips linger there, warm and tender, as his arms wrap tighter around your waist. You feel his breath hitch as he tries not to laugh again, but his amusement bubbles up, and he giggles softly against your neck.

The sound makes your heart melt. Seeing Ben, so often confident and fiery, acting like this, soft, almost giddy in your arms, is a side of him that you absolutely adore and could never take for granted. You smile, feeling his giggles vibrate against your skin as his face stays tucked into your neck, hiding the full blush on his cheeks.

“Who knew the big, tough Ben Shelton could be so shy,” you tease gently, kissing the top of his head.

“Only around you,” he murmurs, his voice low but filled with affection as he pulls you even closer. His lips graze your neck again, lingering longer this time, and you can feel the smile still tugging at his lips.

He nuzzles further into the crook of your neck, his breath warm and steady now, no longer trying to hide his soft laughter. “I guess I do get a little jealous,” he finally admits, his voice quieter now. “I just don’t want anyone else thinkin’ they can have what’s mine.”

You smile and lean your head against his, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’m always yours, Ben,” you whisper softly.

His body relaxes even more at your words, and he lets out a contented sigh. “Good,” he murmurs, still nestled into your neck, his face still rosy but his heart at ease. “Because I’m not lettin’ go.”

#benshelton #ben shelton #ben shelton x reader #atp tennis #azzie asks

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saragarnier · 7 months ago

Note

Hi, can you please write something about jannik being a jeleous boyfriend (not red flag😂)? Thank youuuu

Jealousy

summary: Jannikh as always been a jealous boyfriend in a good way

Pairing: Jannik Sinner x reader

warning: none, maybe bad english

A/N: i'm sorry if it took a long time to write it, i had few ideas and i didn't know which one was better. i really hope you enjoyed it

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Jannik was the one person who would have done everything he could to make everyone around him feeling good and happy; he was the one person who would have done everything to make everyone smiles around him. He was always so kind and gentle, he was always open to help everyone who needed it and it was like that even with you. Everyone would have noticed the good person he was just seeing him on the tv, how respectful he was with his opponents and with the referee, even if they weren’t respectful as he was.

One thing, however, that no one else except you knew, was that he was a jealous person, really jealous. Not in a bad way, he never tried to impose himself on you, he never told you what to do, what to wear or how to behave; he was respectful with you, and he let you choose for yourself, even if, sometimes, he did not agree.

Sometimes you just messed around with him on purpose, trying to make him jealous just for the fun of it; you loved seeing him jealous when someone else tried to flirt with you, you loved the way he just reached you as soon as he noticed, marking his territory, and making clear that you were his. You just loved that because you knew that he was jealous in a good way, in a cute way. He wasn’t like he didn’t trust you or anything like that, he just wanted to be sure that everyone else knew that you were his girlfriend, he wanted to make sure that everyone knew that they didn’t stand a chance with you, since you were taken.

When you argued, even for the smallest thing, you used to make him jealous on purpose, just to messed around with him, that day, was one of those occasions.

You argued just few hours before, when he refused to show you what he was actually hiding from you; you discovered that when you exited the bathroom after the shower and when you saw him hiding something in his pocket immediately. You tried to ask what it was, but he didn’t tell and that made you curious about it. What was he hiding from you? Why was he hiding something in the first place? You were together for four years after all and he never hided anything from you, like you did with him after all. You were always sincere to each other, and you just couldn’t understand for what reason he was starting to hide things from you now, after all those years together.

You tried to discovered what’s that all about, but he didn’t tell you, he just kept saying that it wasn’t nothing important and he ended the discussion like that, telling you to get ready. You sighed, but you had no time to argue with him any longer, that’s why you got ready, wearing your dress and fixing you hair and your make up.

There was this dinner with most of the Italian tennis player and you just couldn’t miss it, even if you lost all the desire to accompany your boyfriend after the discussion you had, especially since you were left with no explanations. When you arrived at the dinner, that was obviously formal, you were by Jannik’s side, and you stayed with him while he greeted everyone he knew. You kept biting your lips, smiling softly at people you didn’t know trying to see if someone you knew arrived.

Then, finally, you saw Lorenzo Musetti with his girlfriend, Veronica.

“I’ll be right back, Jan.” You said, leaving him alone with a man you didn’t know. He followed you with his eyes all the way towards Veronica and Lorenzo and he immediately sighed in relief, worried that you were still angry at him and that you weren’t feeling good about it. He was relieved to know that you went to talk to Veronica, since he perfectly knew that she was one of your closest friends.

He looked again at the person he was talking to, while you greeted Lorenzo and Veronica with a smile.

“Hi beautiful!” Veronica said, smiling and hugging you at once. You smiled back, hugging her and also Lorenzo with a warm smile.

“Hi, how are you, guys?” You smiled back, looking at them. “Parenthood suits you.”

“Thank you, Y/n.” Lorenzo smiled, taking his girlfriend’s hand, and caressing it gently.

“How’s Ludovico?” You asked, smiling even more when Veronica took out her phone and showed you some photos of their child, that was growing faster then expected. “God, he’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, y/n.” They both smiled back, then Lorenzo looked around, trying to find Jannik. “Where’s Jan?”

“He’s talking with someone back there.” You pointed him, watching as Lorenzo kissed his girlfriend’s cheeks before walking towards your boyfriend. You sighed when you met Jannik’s gaze, looking immediately away and catching Veronica’s attention.

“Are you guys okay?” She asked politely, looking at you and placing a hand on your arm when she noticed how sad and concerned you looked. “Hey, what happened, y/n?”

“We argued.” You whispered, shaking your head slightly. “It’s nothing bad but... I don’t know. It’s strange for us to argue about something this stupid. I saw him hiding something from me, but he didn’t want to tell me what that was and… I don’t know, Veronica. It’s not usual for us to hide something from each other.”

She listened to you, trying to reassure you as much as she could. She didn’t know what to say to you since she didn’t know Jannik as well as you, but she tried to make you feel better.

“Don’t worry, Y/n, I’m pretty sure that’s something stupid. If your worried, though, I can try to ask Lorenzo if he knows something.”

You nodded and gave her a small smile. “Thank you, I would really appreciate it.”

Veronica and you kept talking about everything for a few minutes, before Lorenzo called her; she smiled at you, apologising, then she walked towards his boyfriend to greet one of his friends; you stayed there, watching Jannik talking with another man you didn’t meet before, then you looked around and you recognized Matteo Berrettini few feet away. You looked back at your boyfriend, then you walked towards the brown man, still angry with Jannik to just pretend that nothing happened. You were still too upset to pretend that everything was okay, that’s why you reached Matteo, that was alone.

“Hi Matteo, what are you doing here all alone?” You asked, smiling when he offered you a glass of wine he took from one of the waiters that were walking around the room between the guests. You accepted it, thanking him and drinking it.

“Hi y/n.” He smiled, taking a sip of wine. “I’m drowning my sorrows in the wine, it’s not obvious?” He chuckled.

“Oh, well we can do that together if you want.” You whispered, looking at Jannik for just a moment. You met his gaze and you knew at once that he was starting to get jealous, seeing you but Matteo’s side and not his own.

“Problems in paradise?” Matteo asked, following your gaze and looking at Jannik too.

“Yeah…” you whispered. “And you? Why are you so sad?”

“Oh, I still have to elaborate the end of my relationships with… well my ex-girlfriend now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” You whispered, placing a hand on his shoulders and trying to reassure him as well as you could. “If you need someone to talk to, count on me.”

Matteo smiled immediately and lean out to place a kiss on your cheeks, in a friend way. You definitely knew that he was just trying to thank you, but Jannik didn’t appreciate it at all, especially when you placed your hands on his shoulder, trying to reassure him. When you saw Matteo with his eyes glossy, you leaned out and you hugged him.

“Do you want to go out for a minute?” You whispered, knowing that, probably, he didn’t want to cry in front of people he didn’t know very well, in front of people that weren’t his friends.

“Yeah, maybe it’s better.” He said, drinking the last sip of wine before following you outside, where he hided his face between his hands, trying not to cry.

When Jannik saw you hugging him that way and when he saw you two going out together, he just couldn’t repress his jealousy anymore; he apologized with the people he was talking to, then he followed you outside, trying to find you in the dark of the night.

You were by Matteo’s side when Jannik found you; he looked at you from afar, while you trying to reassure Matteo with some hugs and caresses. You kept caressing his back, consoling him while he cried silently; he was broken inside and he needed someone by his side, he needed a friend and you wanted to be helpful for him. You didn’t notice Jannik at first, but you couldn’t care less about it while Matteo was crying.

Jannik didn’t understood t first what was happening between you two: he definitely knew that you weren’t cheating on him or anything like that, but he couldn’t help but be jealous of Matteo, because you preferred to by his side instead of your boyfriend’s. He knew you were still upset about what happened between you two and he thought that you were just messing around with him on purpose, to make him feeling jealous. And, if that was the case, it was definitely working.

Jannik wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leaving a kiss on your head and catching both your and Matte’s attention.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked at first. Then, when he noticed Matteo’s state, he got worried at once. “What happened, man?”

Matteo dried his own tears, trying to stop crying. He looked up at Jannik and tried his best to smile at him.

“Don’t worry, Jan… it’s nothing important.” He said, noticing Jannik’s gaze and his arms around your shoulders; he wasn’t stupid, nor blind, he knew that Jannik must have been jealous of him and that’s why he just smiled at both you and Jannik. “Thank you for your help, y/n. I really appreciate it. I’ll leave you alone now. Thanks again.”

Before you could even stop him from getting inside, Matteo was gone and only you and Jannik left.

“You’re a dick, Jan.” you whispered, adding some distance between you two. “You don’t have the right to be jealous this time, especially since you’re hiding something from me.”

“Y/n, please…” Jannik tried to explain himself, but you were right. You didn’t know the reason why he lied to you, and you have all the rights to be angry at him after all he did. He didn’t want to tell it to you like that, but he had no choice, he didn’t like to see you like that.

He put his hand inside the pocket, looking around to be sure that no one was nearby. When you were still arguing about everything that happened, Jannik knelt in front of you, with a small red box in his hand. He waited till you noticed what was happening and, when you did, you were left speechless.

“W-What… Jan?”

“I wanted to tell you after this stupid dinner, but I can’t wait, and I can’t deal with you being angry at me. I know that I had no rights to be jealous, but I’m jealous because I love you with all my heart. I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you, I just wanted to prepare a surprise, I wanted to surprise you. I can’t live another day without you being by my side. I want you to be my wife, I want you to be the love of my life permanently. I love you with all my heart, y/n. Do you want to marry me? Do you want to be my wife?”

You looked at him, tears streaming down your cheeks.

You were too shocked to answer him, and it made Jannik more nervous after every second. He looked at you, fear in his eyes, then you practically jumped on him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Yes!” You exclaimed, smiling through tears. “Yes, I’d love to be your wife.”

He put the ring on your finger, smiling when he saw that he got the size right.

“Thank God I got the size right.” He smiled, placing a kiss on your lips. “Veronica helped me with that.”

“What? She didn’t say anything when I told her that we argued!” You replied.

“Well, I asked her not to… it would have ruined the surprise, don’t you think?”

You nodded slightly, kissing him again and caressing his hair gently. “You’re right, but don’t you dare to hide anything from me ever again. I thought you didn’t trust me anymore…”

Jannik smiled again, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, babe. I won’t hide anything again from you, okay?

“You better not.” You smiled looking down at the ring with glossy eyes. “I can’t believe I’m becoming Mrs. Sinner.”

Jannik smiled again. “I can’t believe I’ll be your husband. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

“I love you, Jan.”

“I love you too, my future wife.”

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed when he called you like that, even if you loved hearing that.

“What? I’ve only started. Wait ‘till be come back inside, I’ll present you as my fiancé and I can’t wait to make sure that everyone knows it.”

You smiled again. “So, you’ll stop to be jealous? Because I actually love to mess around with you and your jealousy.”

“Oh, trust me I know it. And don’t worry, I won’t stop to be jealous of my woman, even if she’s my wife.”

“Good to know:” You smiled, kissing him again.

#fluff #oneshot #angst #fanfic #jannik sinner #matteo berrettini #atp tennis #atp tour #tennis #lorenzo musetti #x reader #jannik sinner x reader

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