#closed ♦ luck crossed

[game-set-canet]

Another Jannik request. You are also tennis player, but you are not in top 100, co you can afford your own physio on the tournament’s so Jannik is helping you to recover after match. (Massage, passive stretching.. you name it)

No disadvantage

Pairing: Jannik Sinner x reader

warnings: none

author’s note: sorry that it took me so long to write and publish it! I had quite a big writer's block 😩 but I hope you like it! I tried my best! (also: pls note that English isn’t my first language! (and maybe my ambition outweighed my talent 😂)

MY MASTERLIST

(not my gif! credits to the owner/creator!)

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The Australian Open has always been your favourite tournament of the year. Even as a little kid, you used to watch it on TV and dreamt to be part of this amazing tournament. And now, 12 years later you are finally here! It’s your first time here in Australian and you even managed to qualify for the main round!

The only downer is the fact that Camille wasn't here - Camille is a good friend of yours who usually helps you as a physio at the tournaments in Europe. But here in Australia she couldn't travel with you and by now you can feel every muscle in your body. Your father tried to help you as good as he could, but even though he was your coach and tried very hard, he couldn't help you with the sore muscles. The loosening exercises that Camille had shown you didn’t help anymore. Your father had already asked various physios of other players, and some had agreed to look after you, but of course their own players had priority.

You had just finished your match. A close three set match but you did it. You won. You can’t remember the actual ranking, but you might get Top 105 after this win. You are very happy about your win, but you have a strong pulling in your shoulder. During the last set of one of your services, a sharp pain went through your shoulder and neck and although the sharp pain had subsided, there is still a dull ache in your neck muscles. You sigh and stretch out on the mat on the floor of the cool-down room. With each breath you feel the tension in your shoulders and neck, and you let out a loud cry of pain.

"Are you alright?" you suddenly hear a voice next to you. Without looking up, you murmur a quiet "No" - assuming it’s just a member of the WTA staff.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just tension in my shoulder."

The stranger settles down on the floor right next to you: "Where's your physio?"

Your head is still resting on the mat, eyes closed: "In London, probably."

"In London?"

"Yes, normally a friend of mine is my physio, but she couldn't come with me to Australia because of the quarantine regulations because she's not officially my physio and-" you lift your head to look at the WTA employee and freeze: sitting in front of you is none other than Jannik Sinner.

Quickly you pull yourself up from the mat and immediately wince because of the pain: “Oh my god…”

Jannik raises his hands in apology: “That looks bad! How did you even manage to survive without a physio until now?”, his smile is little insecure.

You take a quiet breath and brush a single strand of hair behind your left ear: “Luck? Pure power of will? I don’t know…”, the dull ache in your shoulder calms down a bit. Your gaze is fixed on the ugly floor in the cool-down room, but out of the corner of your eyes you are watching him: he wears a trainings outfit, the white cap lying next to his crossed legs. His orange hair lies in perfect curls, only one strand rests on his forehead.

He plays with the sweatband on his wrist and doesn’t seem to know to do or to say next.

A few seconds pass without a word.

“Can I help you?”

You look at him with wide, surprised eyes. Maybe you're just imagining it, but his cheeks look a little redder than they did a few minutes ago.

“I think, the only thing would be for you to lend me your physio”, you try to joke, your cheeks heating up as well.

“Of course! My Physio will be here in about half an hour! I’m sure he has enough time to give you a proper massage or something!”

Before you can think about it, you it slips out of your mouth: “Oh my god, that would be-“, you interrupt yourself, suddenly remembering your manners, “I mean, no that’s not necessary, I was only joking! I can’t ask for that!”

“No, that’s fine! Honestly! I insist!”, a bright smile appears on his face.

He has a really beautiful smile. And eyes. Eyes which seem to glint.

“Well…thank you…although I feel really bad because I make use of your physio”

“All good! I’m happy to help!”

Silence reigns again. No one of you knows what to say.

But it was Jannik again you broke it. “Congrats to your win by the way! You game was fantastic…I think you’ve hit the most aces of today’s WTA matches.”

“Thank you”, you return his soft smile, “You watched my match?”

Jannik turns his head sharply and breaks the eye contact as his fingers play nervously with his cap, but he nods in response.

You try to ignore the warm feeling in your stomach (and on your cheeks) and take a deep, long breath. But immediately a sharp pain jerks through your body and you exhale shakily because of the pain.

“That’s gonna be a long half an hour until my physio arrives”

You don’t say anything. It feels like all muscles in your upper body are on fire.

Jannik seems to understand your pain because he looks at you pitying: “Yeah…I’m…well, I’m not sure if i…but…”, he’s gnawing on his bottom lip, “I could try to ease it a bit, if you want?”

“You?”

“Yes! I mean, I had a similar problem last week and I think I know what to do…”, he gives you an encouraging smile, “So?”

You don’t think that’s a good idea, partly because he isn’t a proper physio, partly because you feel like you’ve got a swarm of butterflies in your stomach - nevertheless you give him a quick nod and lie back down on the mat.

His fingertips feel hot on your skin. At first he doesn't apply pressure, but only gently strokes you skin - trying to find out where most of the tension is. You can’t help but feel your heart speed up: this is a bad idea.

“Tell me, when it’s too much, ok Y/N?”, his voice is just a whisper.

Slowly he begins to apply more and more pressure, moving from your shoulder to your neck. The pressure hurts but feels relaxing at the same time. And the pain helps you to stay focused and not to think about the fact that Jannik Sinner is massaging you.

You’re not going to lie: you’ve always had a little thing for him. Although Rafa was your favourite player, Jannik was your favourite out of the “Next Gen”. Not only because he is a very talented young player with a bright future ahead of him but also because he always seems very friendly, humble and very down to earth. You try to watch all his matches and even try to learn some things from him through studying his game in videos. Your father says you could learn a lot from his footwork. Yes, focus on his footwork in the video you watched last night – and not on his hands working real magic on your tensed muscles.

He reaches a certain point, and you couldn’t hold back a moan.

“Good?”

“God, yes!”, and you suddenly realise which sound you made just seconds ago, “Wow, that’s embarrassing! I’m so sorry! I-”

“No, all good! Nothing to be sorry about.”, you hear him laugh quietly but at the same time you feel his fingers tremble a little.

You try to calm your pounding heart and Jannik continues to work his way through your tense muscles.

The silence is interrupted by the soft beeping of a smartphone. Jannik’s hand disappear from your back: “My physio is here. I text him where to find us. He will give you a proper massage.”

“I think you did really well!”, you sit up slowly and carefully, “It’s much much better now!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I can breathe without any sharp pain! You’ve helped me a lot already!”, you smile at him “Thank you so, so much Jannik!”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not nothing! I…can I invite you for a drink? A non-alcoholic one, because we both have to play? As a thank you?”

You except him to say no, and prepare to put on a poker face and not let your disappointment show. But instead of a polite refusal, he beams at you: “I’d love that! Let’s say tonight?”

“Yeah, meet me in the lobby at 7pm?” “Can’t wait! But now I have to go to practise! My physio will meet you here in about 5 minutes!”, Jannik stands up and smiles at you, “See you later, Y/N! And again: Congrats on your win!”

[felinewilesarch]

      Far   from   MODEST,   really   not   one   of   her   many   qualities   as   a   hand   smoothes   out   cocktail   dress.   Blending   in   may   have   been   the   idea,   but   with   the   way   black   sequin   clung   to   CURVES,   Felicia   Hardy   would   be   far   from   flying   under   the   RADAR.   “I   look   so   good   tonight.”   Appraisal   hummed   between   velveteen   lips   as   she   checked   her   own   reflection   over   in   a   full   length   mirror.   “GODDAMN.”

      / @ofaesr​  lyric   based,   flawless   by   Beyoncé

[felinewilesarch]

      That   SMILE   is   pure   SIN.   Stands   out   in   shadow   against   layers   of   head   to   toe   black   suit.   Caught   red   handed   WATCHING.   Then   again,   nothing   is   worth   doing   unless   she   gets   a   little   attention   for   it.   Hardly   one   to   come   when   called,   the   blonde   reached   a   long   arm   to   slip   a   gloved   hand   along   his   hairline.   “Just   tell   me   you   want   me,”   as   if   she   didn’t   have   him   WRAPPED   around   that   same   finger.   “And..   I’ll   be   at   your   door.”   TROUBLE,   TROUBLE!   

      / @hellspeed​  lyric   based  -  weekend   by   Sza

[felinewilesarch]

      “Listen   ELSA   -   I’m   not   sure   what   you   want   but   you’re   barking   up   the   wrong   tree.”   Long   legs   carry   the   blonde   further,   brisk   pace   solidified   by   the   fuck   off   CLICKING   of   high   heeled   boots.   “Do   us   both   a   FAVOUR   sweetie   and   LET   IT   GO.”

    / @snowinabottle​

[felinewilesarch]

      -   “What   does   it   LOOK   LIKE   I’m   doing?”   Fiery   response   to   a   turned   back.   Felicia   was   jamming   a   half   crumpled   blouse   into   a   large,   designer   bag.   “I’m   leaving.   You’ve   got   what   -   FOUR   HUNDRED   degrees   and   telepathy,   and   you   couldn’t   figure   that   out   on   your   own?”   Everything   feels   HOT.   The   room.   Her   skin.   Her   thoughts   an   angry   flurry   of   unkind   things.   The   ceiling   feels   like   its   shrinking.   FUCK.   She   needed   some   fresh   air.   “I   should’ve   known   you   would   do   this.   You   ALWAYS   do   this.”   Do   what,   Felicia?   Try   to   help?   The   blonde   stopped   jamming   things   into   her   bag   and   had   half   a   mind   to   swing   it   against   the   record   player.   Instead,   the   feline   stilled,   spine   stiff.   “I’m   not   something   you   can   just   fix,   Charles.”

      /  @genotypiic​,   plotted   starter

[felinewilesarch]

      “The   Bugle   really   does   know   how   to   SPIN   a   fun   HEADLINE,”   perfect   manicure   spins   the   newspaper   to   the   other.   Oh   she’s   amused.   At   least   Felicia   Hardy,   socialite   and   self   proclaimed   social   media   goddess   is.   The   front   page   SCREAMED   something   else:   Black   Cat   Gets   her   Paws   on   Royal   Treasury   Display!   “Talk   about   major   DRAMA.”   

      / @motleyscrew​

[felinewilesarch]

         “AW”   oh   and   what   a   POUT   paired   with   mocking   single   syllable.   It   seems   even   she   -   queen   of   falsities   -   can’t   pull   off   a   GENUINE   attempt   at   empathy   here.   No,   not   when   she’s   having   so   much   fun.   “You  thought   I’d   be   easy?”   Careful   steps   are   taken,   slinking   from   shadow   to   edge   of   BRICK.   “Don’t   take   it   personally,   sweetie,   I   don’t   stay   in   one   place   for   too   long.”   

        / @progeneis​

[felinewilesarch]

      Ooh   goodie!   She’s   pissed.   “Easy   now   SPARKLES   -   don’t   get   your   panties   in   a   twist.”   The   Black   Cat   toys,   “wouldn’t   want   that   PRETTY   face   to   get   stuck   like   that.”   

     / @dinlustris​

[felinewilesarch]

       “Now   now,   there’s   no   need   to   get   JEALOUS.   More   than   enough   of   my   attention   to   go   around.   Besides,   we   both   know   GREEN   just   isn’t   your   colour   anyways!”   

      / @sithdestined​

[felinewilesarch]

     SMILE is practically pearlescent as it peels back the corners of CRIMSON. There’s nothing like spotting a familiar face. Especially one that wasn’t going to try to CHASE the Cat. Andy might’ve been one of the very FEW that could. “You’re lookin GOOD, you know, for someone your AGE.” 

       / @brvesouls​

[felinewilesarch]

     “Well” - lungs DEFLATE with sharp exhale. Feels good, in a way, to have all the air leave tense frame. “You’re obviously MISTAKEN.” It’s the roll of shoulders that follow: second attempt to rid herself of this. What ever this was. “I’m FINE. Get over yourself.” 

       / @shesmart​

[felinewilesarch]

     TALL. Rippling muscles. Jaw strong enough to STRADDLE. Satisfaction fills the Cat, one guttered thought after another. THOR. How very interesting. “You just made my night, big guy.” One leg dangles, the other tucked up to prop small chin. The Black Cat LOUNGES off of ledge. Such ease for someone who’s undoubtedly in trouble. “I’m CURIOUS. What’s a God like you doing in a place like this.” 

      / @odinsn​

[felinewilesarch]

     DIGITS trace the length of a sleeve. Seemingly, invading PERSONAL SPACE without so much as a thought! That’s where most fall short: Felicia Hardy never does ANYTHING without purpose. “Don’t tell me you’re MAD at me.” Gentle touch paired with those honeyed words? HE’D MELT! He would have to. He knows how restless she can get when she doesn’t get her way.

     / @delacey​

[felinewilesarch]

     GIGGLE ECHOES on empty street. What is she laughing at? Passerbys would try to guess as they scuttled throughout a city damn near close to ASLEEP. For her, the night was just STARTING. Silver spooned turned SOUR - the Feline was looking for all sorts of trouble. Tonight it took the form of a rather tall, handsome and infuriating SCOUNDREL. “Peter! Pe - Peter Quill” A hollar, over the pounding of a pulse. “Open the fucking door!” Yet again, fist connects to front door. How many times had she knocked? One? Two? SIX? Fuck it! She needed him. Now, preferably.

         / @outlawiism​

[felinewilesarch]

     A SMILE. Such a pretty one too! BRIGHT enough to blind from the malice hiding in the corners of pulled cheeks. Get close enough to those pearly whites and the Cat may just take a BITE out of her. “Run along, KIDDO. Wouldn’t want you to get HURT trying to play with the big boys.” 

     / @redheadarcher​

[felinewilesarch]

     A strong sense of EASE seeps through every pore. Ironic, considering the situation at hand. “Another SHIELD lackey? You’re joking.” Even the sheer WILL of CHAOS INCARNATE couldn’t stop feline eyes from rolling. “Cockroaches, however resilient, are still just INSECTS waiting to be squashed.”     

       / @agntsousa​