#drabble tennis

[senualothbrok]

I was Inspired by that lovely fanart of waking up next to Gale, so...

Gale might have told you that waking up next to you was the most unreal part of your adventures--particularly that morning, after he'd defied a goddess and you all defied the odds and came out, alive and un-ceremorphosed, on the other side. You wonder, though, if the sense of unreality and awe that sweeps over you when you wake up first and watch him sleep isn't just as potent.

You're both more than a bit wrecked from your lovemaking the previous night. Gale's hair is a glorious, disordered mess on the pillow, a sloppy tapestry of darker brown, bronze, and silver. That ever-animated face and body are, for once, at peace--you've worn him out so thoroughly, you think with more than a little smugness, he can't even murmur or twitch his way through dreams. The bare chest you'd so adoringly marked with your teeth and fingers rises and falls, a drowsy metronome whose pulse you follow as your gaze wanders down his belly, the dip of his flank, to where a sleepy hand had pushed the covers down to his hip. That ever-present hunger in your belly stirs, a prompting to push those covers down or slide a hand underneath them, but it's at best a suggestion; for once, you might be sated, just drinking your fill of him lying here like this.

He has one hand tucked underneath his head, an oddly shy and childlike thing; the other rests on the mattress between you. Like the rest of him it's quiescent, elegant fingers resting like a benediction on the sheets. A few fine hairs dust the back of it, not enough to hide the sculpture of bone and tendon underneath, a work of art you never tire of appreciating.

The air around you is sleepy and slow, and through the tower window you can hear the sea's endless murmur Gale sighs softly and stirs, that hand reaching for you--it's so easy, so easy, to slide your fingers into his, to smile as he settles and shifts a little closer. You could lie here for the rest of the morning, the rest of the day, cloaked in peace.

What, you think, is eternity, compared to this?

Hello friend! Thank you so much for this, and sorry it has taken me so long... This was such a beautiful scene, and it was so lovely and warm thinking about it. ***

His eyelids flutter, dancing towards wakefulness. His eyes open slowly, a brown-bronze river which sways then stills. You gaze at each other, cocooned in silent contentment, echoing each other’s breaths. Your thumb circles the back of his hand like a rosary bead. His drowsy lips curl.

“Are you enjoying the view?”

You laugh, a husky rasp, your throat still recovering from last night’s exertions. “Always.”

He hums as you trace the curves of his temple, the cut of his cheek, the nook of his collarbone.

“It’s quite flattering, to be admired by someone whose beauty so dwarfs your own.”

His free hand cups the indent of your hip, warm and heavy. Claiming you as his.  

You huff a little. “It isn’t a competition.”  You nibble at his shoulder, savouring the bristle of his beard against your skin. “Besides, there’s perfection in imperfection.”

“Oh?” A flare of mischief in his languid features. “What imperfections in me are you referring to?”

You tickle his nose with yours. Even after all this time, his breath still catches when you draw near. Your lips seek his, a flurry of affection you cannot control, the sting of his morning breath reminding you that this is not a dream. He is reluctant, groaning faintly as you draw back. You weave lazily through his ruffled fringe.

“These.” You linger on the silver streaks that flicker across his earth brown waves. “I love these.”

“Do you?” His eyes beam, but shadows lurk beneath. Gale has always been confident in his appearance, but he is not immune to fears of aging.

“I do. I always have.”

Your fingers follow the tousled strands that tumble onto his forehead, chiselling the deep lines that accent his brow. You marvel at every groove, every trace of Gale’s tireless thoughts, bearing the weight of his wisdom. Marks of his sincerity. Those most priceless of treasures.

“And these,” you whisper. “These might be my favourite.”

His gaze is an embrace, but there is a grimace in his smile.

“You might be the only fan of those.”

Your heart is like the tide as you gather his face in your hands. It swells as you plant a kiss between his eyebrows, firm and fervent. His eyelashes tingle against your cheek as he sighs and pulls you against him.

“I love everything about you,” you breathe, before you melt into each other.

[nottslove]

—SPORTS MANAGERS!MATTHEODORE X TENNIS PLAYER!READER

WARNING: 18+, forced proximity, forbidden relationships, not for minors.

—SPORTS MANAGER! MATTHEO and SPORTS MANAGER! THEO who have been enemies since they both entered their respective careers.

—SPORTS MANAGER! MATTHEO and SPORTS MANAGER! THEO who are at each other's throats constantly, trying to sabotage each other and trying to get you to sign with them.

—SPORTS MANAGER! MATTHEO and SPORTS MANAGER! THEO who are well aware of the fact that you are one of the most famous tennis players in the world, a rising star, and the benefits of being your sports manager, thus fighting for your attention, trying to convince you that the other will ruin your public image.

—SPORTS MANAGER! MATTHEO and SPORTS MANAGER! THEO who try to prevent you from signing with the other, and often try to control every single thing you do.

—SPORTS MANAGER! MATTHEO and SPORTS MANAGER! THEO who despite being two of the best managers in the country, are both only in it for the money until they somehow find themselves sexually attracted to you.

i don't know if this au makes sense to y'all, it makes sense to me... i don't know if i did a good job of trying to portray what is in my mind...

please leave a comment, heart and follow. thanks.

this au is an original, please do not copy/steal/use.

profile; nav;

©nottslove 2025. do not copy, steal or claim any works/graphics as your own.

[ln4z]

i'm so into you, i could barely breathe [ 18+ ]

new isack au!! istg this is the last one. ovulation this month is really crazy. but enjoy this tiny blurb that i whipped up so randomly 😭🫶🏻

𝝑𓏲 tennis player!isack x hyper feminine art student!reader ⸝⸝⠀ ──── ! ✶ requests are open!

thinking about how tennis player!isack hadjar is so so so whipped for his hyper feminine, art student!gf. he loves how your lips are always sticky with some gloss—mostly vanilla or cranberry. how you always wear heel—even if it's something as low as kitten heels. how you always let him put a bow or lace a ribbon in your hair. how you always wear your hair down (god he love to tangle his fingers in your hair). how you always wear mini skirts or mini dresses ("... easier acess." he mumbled against your cunt when giving you head in an empty stall of a club, high off a win only to earn a harsher tug at his hair in protest).

in short he was—for a lack of better word—obsessed.

you were a close family friend yet you two didn't meet until you moved to paris for university. because you were tucked away in the hills of some fancy boarding school in switzerland. and god, had he laid his eyes on you before—you would've been his long ago. your parents had arranged a private session with isack so the two you get to know each other better.

"are you sure you can play like that?" was the first thing he told you. because he swears this was the most impractical outfit he's ever seen someone wear for playing tennis in his all of professional career and years he's being practing tennis. you were all dolled up mini tennis skirt, a pretty crop top, bouncy hairs all down ... and 2 inch mary jane high heels.

"whatever i can do in flats i can do it in heels." you rolled your eyes at him. you, infact, couldn't do it in heels. you gave up within ten minutes. "it's making me sweaty. i spent an hour styling my hair and doing makeup. i am not ruining it by being all sweaty and disgusting." you told him in that distinct posh accent. because ofcourse for someone whose answer to every problem was daddy's money or crying in your father's bently for five minutes before reapplying your ridiculously expensive lip gloss because, "i cannot look ugly and depressed at the same time!"

yup, that did it for isack. he was whipped for the prissy princess who couldn’t think of life past the mansion you lived in.

"chèrie, can we leave?" isack mumbled into your neck, you two found yourself at some afterparty after his game. his strong arms were already wrapped around your waist. "right now?" you tilted your head, giving him better acess to nibble at your neck. "isack!" you exclaimed as he licked your neck in the same place he bite in. "what? it's soothing." he smirked. "it's filthy!" you argued.

well not that you could much as that before you were in his bed. heels still on, dress bunched up, panties in his pocket.

isack buried his face between your thighs. tongue lapping at cunt like a starved man. “god, stop squirming.” he mumbled against your cunt. purple bruises already forming on your inner thighs. his back was pretty much a masterpiece of marks—marks of your new manicured burgandy stiletto nails pretty much mauling his muscled back. the one he build with years of training. your pumps digging into his back as he pryed open your legs.

god he was so filthy but you loved him so much.

your back arched off the bed as a strangled sob let your mouth—already in the haze of your what? second orgasm. isack didn't waste a second before he started lapping at your cunt—trying to pull a third one. isack placed a firm hand on your stomach. “i said stop fucking moving!” his tongue flicking at your clit.

your lips pulled into a pout as the tears threatened to slip from your eyes, again. isack tapped his hand on your stomach a couple times before wiggling his fingers at you. his way of saying — i'll hold you through your final orgasm.

“i love you.” isack muttered before increasing his speed. you cried out, squeezing his hand. not only because of the sudden increase in speed but the way your overstimulated clit brushed against the mole on his nose. the same mole you always kissed and said was really pretty on him.

you were practically grinding on his nose at this point—not that he minded. but just a couple minutes later you came all over his tongue for the third time. legs twitching and threatening to close as he licked you up clean.

“you good bébé?” he asked, face glistening with your slick. he leaned down to kiss your lips. letting you taste yourself on him. another action of his that your princess attitude called filthy yet let him do it anyway. "i'll run us a bath yeah?" he squeezed your cheeks. "wait what about you? i—" he pushed your back onto the bed. "you don't worry about that pretty girl." he pecked your lips before getting up to run you both a bath.

[sonofa-dream]

at the body

ronan lynch/adam parrish - rated E (explicit) - 9,222 words

Religious silence. The ball bounces three times at his feet. Ronan wipes his face with the wristband. Glances at the sky, exhales sharp. Then he tosses it into the air. Body curving high. Serve, 131 mph, ace. Welcome back, Ronan Lynch.

Ronan Lynch is back on the court. Adam Parrish wants an exclusive story.

some notes:

it's pynch tennis summer, baby! thank you so much anon for the prompt! tweaked it a little because i love power-hungry adam parrish, so he's a journalist now :-) this is dedicated to @snowdrifting, who was incredibly supportive when this draft was pissing me off, who proofread the last version, did the german, and pushed me through the last nerves!! love you baby snow is also responsible for the presence of declan lynch in this, being the official decladam cunt-off ambassador the gym scene is inspired by a glorious scene in the season 1 of Industry, get into it, it's hot! also this is sooooo horny and voyeuristic blame the heatwave ;) enjoy<333

[burrowglazer]

★ 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.

[yuwuta]

Wow I have been nonstop thinking about tennis king yuuta and his little baby boy I’m going to kill you (affectionate) - @yuutito

teeheeeeeeeee….. here’s some more, aleks :’) enjoy :))))))

“Everybody thinks he looks like me, but I don’t see it that way. Maybe it’s because every time I look at him, I see my wife and I’m reminded of her […] I’m a little biased so I see her in everything.” 

You find yourself with tears welling in your eyes the more you read into Yuuta’s latest magazine interview. Between his sweet quotes and the pictures of him with your son, it’s taking everything in you not to burst into full-blown tears. 

Your boys look so handsome. You and Yuuta shared your concerns with publicizing your child at such a young age, but you two came to the conclusion that you’d rather have the control in the narrative than to let private family pictures be leaked uncontrollably. As another point of reassurance, Yuuta’s career provided him with just enough lime-light to be a household name without the crazy fame and criticism that came along being a true celebrity. Besides—Yuuta talked enough about you and your son in press conferences and interviews that it was bound to happen sooner rather than later. 

The article wasn’t entirely about you, or your family—or at least, you’re sure it wasn’t intended to be; you knew your husband had a knack for rambling about his loved ones, even where work was concerned. As you continue to read, you find a segment where the author compared Yuuta’s current statements with something similar he’d said about you twelve years ago—at the very start of his professional career: “If I owe this [winning Gold] to anybody, it’s my girlfriend. She’s always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. I wouldn’t have qualified or even thought to qualify if it weren’t for her.” 

It feels like you and Yuuta were just two kids in love back then. You didn’t think it could be more than that—you didn’t think you could love Yuuta more than you did all those years ago, but somewhere along the way just being in love wasn’t enough to describe it; Yuuta became your partner, someone you loved fundamentally, but also because you couldn’t stand to see yourself without him. And just when you thought you couldn’t love anyone nearly as much as you love him, you turn the page to a picture of your husband and son peeping through the holes of a racket and your heart feels full. 

When you scan the image more closely, you realize that it isn’t just any racket—it’s an old one, one you’d given to Yuuta as a gift probably back in high-school. You had no idea he’d kept it, but you suppose you shouldn’t be all that surprised; Yuuta is nothing if not sentimental. 

“Ah, there she is~” Yuuta’s voice cuts through your thoughts. When you turn, you see him, with your baby boy on his hip, sliding the back porch door closed. 

Both boys approach you with a smile on your face, and you set the magazine aside to sit up in the lounge chair to greet them. Yuuta presses a kiss to your forehead, then your lips before you do the same to your son. Immediately after, he reaches his arms out for you, and Yuuta chuckles, “You wanna be with your mama? Can’t blame you, I missed her, too.” 

He hands the baby off to you, and takes a seat on the other end of the chair, reaching over to coo at his son as you smother his face in kisses. 

“How was the farmer’s market?” you question, letting the baby settle into your lap. 

“Good, he picked out some very bright peppers, and we got some more strawberries, know you’ve been craving them,” Yuuta smiles, reaching over to pat your son’s head, when the closed magazine catches his eye, and he reaches for it, quickly flipping through, “Ah—I guess that interview’s out. He’s grown so much, even though it was only a few months ago.” 

You find the blush on his cheeks beyond endearing. Yuuta always finds room to be bashful no matter how many times he’s waxed poetic about his love for you, or his family—his cheeks always stain pink like the first day you met him. 

“It’s sweet. You’re sweet,” you smile, sparing a hand to run through Yuuta’s hair, charmed by the way he leans into your touch, “I didn’t know you still had that racket.” 

“Of course, I keep everything you give me,” he says, earnestly. He closes the magazine and scoots a little closer, taking advantage of the proximity and of your touch to lay his head on your shoulder, “Did you… read all of it?” 

“Almost, but no, why?” you question, with a light-hearted grin, “Did you say something that would lead the world to believe you’re somehow even more in love with me? Because you might already be past the threshold, dear.” 

Yuuta hums. He reaches to take you son out of your lap and carefully shifts himself to that he’s laying down, his head on your lap, and the baby in his arms, happily giggling and cooing as Yuuta holds him up. He lowers and raises him back and forth a few times, nuzzling their noses together when their faces are close, before sitting him up on his chest.

Then he tilts his head up to look at you, wide, love-filled eyes blinking slowly before he says, “Maybe… depends on if me saying I want more kids is past the threshold or not.” 

[sherryflavoured]

Morning cuddle with big ben.

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

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

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

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

___________________________________✿______________________________________

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

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

[cieloclercs]

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

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

-🪷

hello! hope you enjoy this <3

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

word count. 2.3k

read under the cut!

𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐨́𝐧 | carlos alcaraz

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

liked by tennis_wags and 2,637 others

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

view all comments…

username so cute 😍

username THE it couple

Two weeks later Majorca, Spain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

liked by wimbledon and 2,647,936 others

tagged: carlitosalcarazz

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

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

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

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

carlitosalcarazz te quiero siempre / i love you always

yourusername 💕

comments on this post have been limited.

tags: @christianpulisic10

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

[auiciqa]

𝓣𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭

[crimsonshadesblog]

I love receiving visions, writing down a fully-fledged scene and then having to figure out where to put it.

[senualothbrok]

Hello friend!! I have been thinking about undiagnosed sorcerer Gale a lot lately, so I am making it your problem too.

You only gradually become aware of it, and once you are you wonder how you hadn't noticed. Maybe it's the passage of time, each day one step away from the nautiloid and the Netherbrain and all of it--each day that much more distance from Gale's last audience with Mystra. The burden of the Orb hadn't been yours, but it had been heavy enough that you felt lighter when you saw his face as he stepped out that portal. Maybe, like the wounds you both bring back with you to Waterdeep, your mind needed the chance to heal before it could process even more.

More in this case is living with Gale. It had been one thing being on the road, chased from danger to danger; all you'd been able to think those nights you'd collapsed into his tent with him was we made it, with a fervent hope he'd be next to you when you woke and still next to you the night following. Now, you lie down with him night after night and wake up to him morning after morning, and as you let yourself accept that this is how things will be, you start to notice.

The tower is suffused with magic.

It's not only the spells and wards that Gale has woven into the very heart of it, or the numerous enchantments he's created to make life easier, or the artifacts and books you've brought home with you. It's Gale himself.

Surrounded by magic and slow to shed the exhaustion that's clung to you since Baldur's Gate, you need some time to sense the difference, but once you do it's there, a touch on your sleeve or a whisper to catch your attention. When you search for it you can't see it, there's no breeze to stir the curtains or the profusion of flowers Gale brings home day after day. You don't smell that dreaded rosewater or taste cloying honey-sweetness on your tongue. It's a sense that goes beyond sense, speaking to the parts of you that lie under your bones and between your nerves--it's something that escapes your words just as you think you've found the ones to describe it. The sense of him wraps around you like a comforting memory, smoothing its unfelt fingers across your unquiet spirit; the happiness you feel, the life that suffuses you, doesn't compel you but invites you just to be.

It's different when you're in bed together, like tonight, when Gale is salting your skin with kisses. Tonight he's all around you, flowing into and filling every part of you like water, Gale himself spilling over at the edges. He's not glowing but you feel alight with him, woven into him, his threads twisting around yours to draw you close. You're not in one of his illusions--the world around you is very real, if hazy and distant, and Gale's body is hungry, solid flesh and bone against yours. The sensation doesn't vanish even when Gale pauses to ask you what's wrong and you realize you're staring at him.

"I can feel you," you say awkwardly.

"I'd hope so," Gale says laughingly, though he notices your uncertainty and sits up, bracing himself back on his haunches. "What is it?"

You explain as best you can, though every word out of your mouth sounds more foolish and inaccurate than the last. You find yourself tangled in a thicket of your own making and are just about to panic your way out of it when Gale says, faintly embarrassed, "Oh. That--that hasn't happened in quite some time. Years."

I'm so sorry, friend, that it's taken me so long to reply to your once again beautiful piece. I feel like my writing is pretty awful at the moment so I do apologise. I just wanted to get it out though (despite being in a weird creative space and putting off writing a little bit!)

Thank you so much, as always, for your exquisite work <3 ---

You do not need to ask. There is an intuition that exists between you, so that you often know his intentions before he speaks, and he senses your desire before you tell him. You know that part of this comes from the joining of your souls, sealed by your love. But you suspect the other part comes from something altogether different, that sensation that you cannot yet name.

“Admittedly, it wasn’t as innocuous as what you’ve described, back then.”

He pulls you closer, as if he needs your skin on his, even though you feel his being like a flame inside you.

“By all accounts, there was more force to it. It was more of an explosion, if you would.”

You arch an eyebrow. He flashes you that languid half smirk that drives you wild. You wonder if he feels your arousal as his own, like two rivers flowing into each other. He watches you with dancing eyes, savouring your reaction.

“Not that kind of explosion.”

You laugh a little. His lips are smooth and warm as they graze the tips of your fingers. For a while, you fumble for words to explain, ever grateful for his patience.

“It feels like a spell,” you manage eventually. “Even when you’re not casting. Like I’m floating in the Weave, except that you’re the Weave. You’re all around me, inside me, everywhere.”

He gazes at you, fingering this chin absently. And then he nods. There is a kind of solemnity in the gesture, the slight gathering of Gale’s brow. You wonder how long Gale has hidden this part of his nature, or shied away from examining it too closely.

“When I was a child, I learned to control it. But with you…”

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, the heat of his sigh blazing like your pulse. There is a force to it, then, an ache to his longing. You feel it like a flood.

“I want all of you,” he rasps. “And I want to give you all of me. Perhaps that’s why.”

Your open mouth finds his, wet and desperate. His breaths are ragged, swirling into yours like a clouds swallowing clouds. He is a warm bath, lapping at every inch of you. You are about to drown yourself in him when he draws back, so abruptly you feel bereft.

“Does it disturb you?”

The wavering in his eyes almost makes you wince. Traces of his uncertainty, the measure against which he still judges himself. You shake your head sharply, immediately.

“No.” You press yourself against him, swelling with tenderness and desire. “The more I find out about you, the more I love you. Nothing could make me love you less.”

He hesitates for a moment. You feel, as well as see, the last of his doubt fading. His smile is a ripple of light through you, a pleasure almost as intense as pain.

“That’s a relief,” he whispers, as his fingers flutter downwards, and his taste becomes your own.

[xmycxx]

football!abby knows how stressful the moment before a game can be and would do anything to make tennis!reader's anxiety calm down ❤️‍🩹

omfg you're so right tho (i also went wayyyy overboard with this)

i feel like this could go two ways, one where abby is there at the match and one where she's busy (at her own game, dad's house, hw, etc.)

If she's not there with you

this is like, either established relationship or beginning relationship

she knows you have a big game coming up and is texting you before it, let's say your match is set at 4:30

minimum delay for matches is like a half hour, so she's a bit confused but still happy when she's still texting you at 5:00

but then your responses get shorter and shorter and then you send her this text that makes her so worried

sorry, I'm watching the girl I'm meant to be playing against and abs she's really fuckin good"

she totally gets the feeling, and tries to think of what helps her when she's hella stressed, then she remembers that before a few games, her dad just got her to ramble about strategy and football jargon that even he didn't get but it calmed her down

she just texted back: "call me x"

you're a bit confused, but you do as she tells you, and she instantly tries to get you talking about why you think that other girl is better than you

she has little to no clue what you're talking about when you're talking about her (this is 110% off of a personal experience)

"babe what's a slice serve?"

You almost whine, but then you just decide to explain it to her

"It's basically when the ball has a fuckton more topspin and takes a lil jump, and you have to back up more to hit it back which usually means open stance and more of a volley than a loaded shot which sets the other person up for a winner, but i guess you could work around it if you-"

girl is clueless but is happy because she can hear you talking a little slower and slowly relaxing and she can heAR the gears working in your head when you work out a strategy to beat her

a bit bummed when you say your match is finally starting, but wishes you luck

expects you to win, checks her phone every 10 minutes (girly has no idea how long these lasts, google betrayed her by saying 1-4hrs)

after the 2hr mark, she gives up, puts her phone on full ringer and watches TV

is so excited for you when you call back and are squealing that you won the game, is genuinely so proud of you that her cheeks hurt from smiling

If she is there with you

mostly the same behaviour

a lot more PDA if you're comfy with it (hand holding, comforting etc)

but not excessive that it makes you seem like a wimpy loser to everyone around you

just talks to you, taking your mind off of it, a lot of compliments on your outfit (whether you prefer the shorts, skirt or leggings) this girl is making sure you feel like fuckin Beyonce on the court

stays. for. the entire. match.

it doesn't matter if you crush the person within an hour or if you're playing 3 sets for as many hours

this girl is whIPPED

doesn't really know what the scores mean but she can tell when you're up

if her seat is close enough, she's watching your facial expressions, from the grin when you get a winner, to the concentration before a serve. eVERYTHING she notices it

if you lose, she's there with you, hugging you and waiting for your next match or driving you to a drive-in restaurant so you can eat in the car

if you win, she's your biggest hype-man, lifting you in the air and getting so excited with you that it's fuckin contagious

either way, football!abby is your biggest hypeman and i want her as my personal cheerleader

[onboardsorasora]

Maxiel Masterlist 2

So it seems like I've hit the link limit on my maxiel masterpost. So I guess this is the start of Maxiel Masterpost 2 lmao

My Dewis and OT3 stories are on Masterlist 2

My Ao3: Quesorasora

Here are ALLLL my current Maxiel stories :) Part 2!

Tumblr Fic

Dentist Drabble

Grey Pube Drabble - which is now on AO3 as well- Old Man Balls

Alpha!Dan Drabble

Soul Meets Body also on AO3

Something Something Drabble

Neighbor AU Tag

Max Time Travel Drabble

Girl!Dan Part 3

Boy Band Drabble

Hockey AU Drabble

Fireman Daniel AU Drabble

Young Max DM-ing Daniel

Hanahaki Idea Drabble

Newscaster AU Drabble

5+1 Fic Ideas Tag

Monaco Fix It Drabble

Daniel Next Win Drabble

Witch!Max

Reverse Age Gap AU

Vic Engagement Announcement Drabble

Max Pregnancy Announcement

Oil Wrestler/Cam Boy Daniel + Part 2 + Part 3

Wolf Daniel - on Ao3 'Closer'

Reality TV AU - Slut Edit

Tennis AU Cont.

Part 1 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part

On AO3

De-Aged Daniel | De-Aged Daniel Pt2 | De-Aged Daniel Pt3 | De-Aged Daniel Pt 4 | De- Aged Daniel Pt 5 | De-Aged Daniel Part 6 | De-Aged Daniel Part 7 | De-Aged Daniel Part 8 | De-Aged Daniel Part 9 | De-Aged Daniel Part 10 | De-Aged Daniel Part 11 | De-Aged Daniel Part 12 | De-Aged Daniel Part 13 | De-Aged Daniel Part 14 | De-Aged Daniel Part 15 | De-Aged Daniel Part 16 | De-Aged Daniel Part 17 | De-Aged Daniel Part 18 | De-Aged Daniel Part 19 | | Part 20 | Part 21

Fool In the Rain

Summary:

“Is there anyone who has any reason why these two should not be married?” The officiant asked the hushed crowd. Everyone glanced around with identical smiles, but no one moved– as expected.

What was not expected was the doors to the church to open and a very pregnant woman walking up the aisle quickly.

maxiel; miscommunication, misunderstanding, angst, getting back together

Ribbons and Lace

summary:

Max felt like the words were bouncing around the hollow walls of his brain as everything shut down. 'You like it?'

Not an excuse about performance wear, nothing about heart rate monitors or even jokes about whether his good looks could pull it off. No. Daniel had asked if he liked it.

Of course he liked it, he loved it and he didn’t even know what it looked like.

Written for the @thattropeyouhate fest :)))

Trope: Animal Transformation/Shifter

Dog Days

summary:

Daniel brought an arm to his face, hoping to see the familiar rose of his tattoo. He was distraught to see a fur covered paw instead. Well shit. He hadn’t shifted in years, not since he signed for Red Bull. And it had been going fine, too. He hadn’t shifted this entire time and he’d honestly forgotten how to.

So this was a tad inconvenient.

Follow Your Nose

summary:

The scarring of a mating bite was a point of pride for omegas. Because a True Mating Bond looked like a birthmark, a tattoo that proclaimed them as bonded to their soulmate. A True Mating can only happen with compatible pairs, and bonds that weren't True scarred silvery like old wounds. It wasn't uncommon to see an omega with a scarred bond or two.

Max was a great alpha, a great friend. Daniel was a poor omega with a neck full of scars like a diary of failed relationships

welcome to whiskers

summary:

In the small village just outside the city, there is a popular cafe on main street. There really wasn’t anything that special about it– the coffee was soso, the tea was pretty ok. The staff were close and it felt like a family. Oh and there were cats.

;

Max works at a cat cafe. Daniel is his manager and in love with him.

Sponsor Max

Summary: 

Everything in Formula 1 came with a price tag and sponsors dropped unserious amounts of money in their sport for the prestige of it all. In all of his years, Peter had never once seen a blank cheque. Until now. 

The memo section simply said for Daniel.

Tags: Power Imbalance, Extremely Dubious Consent. Gratuitous Smut, Topping from the Bottom, Max is Toxic and Possessive, Daniel Doesn't Have A Choice, Sexual Coercion, Explicit Sexual Content

Prince Max

summary:

“Yeah I have a ticket and everything. I promise I'm not stalking you– what are you stalkable Maxy?” Daniel waggled his eyebrows before turning to pick up his tote bag from the sand, completely missing Max’s reaction.

;

Or: Max is the Crown Prince of the Netherlands, Daniel has no idea.

Tags: Fake Dating, Mutual Pining, Idiots in love, Getting Back Together, crack treated seriously

you make my heart beat like the rain - ao3

rainy maxiel meet cute at a concert - tumblr

Enchanted AU

Enchanted AU - Disney Princess Dan 1 | Part 35 | Part 36

Homecoming: A Winter Soldier AU

summary:

“Hydra have been active recently.” And that got Max's attention. “We've been tracking their movements and we fear they’re attempting to activate the Winter Soldier.” As Nico spoke a few faces scrolled past the screen; current, known directors in the Hydra organization– senators, city councilmen, business owners. The slideshow ended with a photo of a man with short wiry curls and the second half of his face obscured. He was mostly turned away from the camera but Max would recognize his profile anywhere.

“Daniel.” Max breathed.

tags: Action, Alternate Universe, Coffee Shop AU …ish, Blood and Violence, Getting Back Together, Daniel has PTSD, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending

written for MaxielFest2024

Orange Juice

summary:

Honey, come over The party's gone slower And no one will tempt you We know you got sober

There's orange juice in the kitchen Bought for the children It's yours if you want it We're just glad you could visit

Max comes back home to pick up the pieces

tags: Max POV, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Recovering addict Max Verstappen, Deals with Addiction and Recovery, Getting Back Together

Daniel's Ghost Adventures

summary:

Daniel was a ghost hunter, a good one– nay, a great one, but not particularly by choice. Ghosts love him, but he does not like them back.

Daniel wasn’t so much a ghost hunter, as he was… bait.

tags: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Ghost Adventures, POV Daniel Ricciardo, Daniel Ricciardo Needs a Hug, Suspense, Horror, Demonic Possession, Witch Max Verstappen, Ghosts Like Daniel But He Does Not Like Them, Scared Ghost Hunter Daniel, Fluff and Humor, I promise there is fluff, Getting Together, Boo the Dog, We Love Boo, Happy Ending

written for Motorsport Halloween Fest

Ripe Cherries

summary:

Once upon a time…

Prince Max knew he would marry someday, for the good of the kingdom. He would do his duty to his people and the crown and marry the omega his father chose for him.

Princess Daniel had never wanted to marry, least of all some prince he didn’t know. But that was no longer his decision. He’d at least hoped his new alpha wouldn’t have been the Brute Prince of the North.

tags: Omega Verse, Alpha Max Verstappen, Omega Daniel Ricciardo, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Enemies to Lovers, Daniel Doesn't Want to Get Married, Angst and Feels, Misunderstandings, Slow Burn, Miscommunication, The Inherent Sexiness of Flirting When You Can't Touch Each Other, Smut, Loss of Virginity, Romantic Fluff, Character Death, Plot Plot Plot, Intrigue, Attempted Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Some Gore, Universe Specific Gore, Blanket Warning

additional tags to be added

Sun to Me

summary:

But I've been livin', waitin' on the day That the good Lord willin', send you out my way I've seen hard times, bad luck, all that in-between Sweetest of the sunflowers, yeah, you're the sun to me

Max was and had always been a good boyfriend to Daniel, loyal and true. He'd promised to take care of him, and Max had meant it completely. Sequel to Orange Juice

Taking Care

summary:

Daniel's first time back in a Red Bull garage didn't go the way he anticipated. But he's not complaining. A RedBull Garage Gangbang Fic

Tags: Gangbang, Squint to See It Dubcon, Yes The Car Is Sturdy Enough, Bukkake, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Minor Angst, I Clearly Couldn't Help Myself

Otaku Daniel - Ride On Shooting Star

summary:

Max didn’t really enjoy watching other people play games, knew he’d criticise their decision making. He also didn’t like vlogs, yet he found himself tuning into Daniel’s streams when he could. If only to hear him laugh a little, or a lot. Daniel laughed a lot and Max loved to hear the sound. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to sub from one of his burner accounts. Daniel’s account was a guilty pleasure of his and he didn’t need to share him with the wider world. ; Max is down bad for a curly haired Australian streamer (from tumblr; Otaku Daniel)

tags: Alternate Universe - Twitch Streamers, Pining, Max Has A Crush, Otaku Daniel, Max Loves His Geekiness, Completely Self Indulgent, Mostly Max POV, Max is Down Bad, Turn's Out Daniel's Down Bad Too, Idiots in Love, Eventual Smut, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other

[sonofa-dream]

I have zero (0) verified tennis knowledge but an official is the judge in a tennis match so it's adam being a guest judge (which I think sometimes celebrities or rich important people do??)

yeah no that's so hot, let's fucking go

[imaginethesepages]

the crown comes undone.

Only the ones who wore the crown know its true weight. No other saying has come close to the truth for Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku Chuu’s Boys’ Tennis Team. With each year of winning the championship title means it’s another year of them having to defend their throne.

With every win, their training becomes more merciless. Running drills takes out the air in the members’ lungs until nothing is left. Their practice matches will continue for hours until they’re too exhausted to move, arms dangling and numb.

It is gruesome, to say the least. Others may say it’s excessive, going through rigorous routines all for a sport and a middle school club. But none of their opinions matter, for none of them will understand. This needs to be done.

In Rikkai Dai, excellence is the standard, and winning is the baseline. All in the name of continuing the legacy handed down by their predecessors. All so they’d remain as the undisputed, the undefeated.

To keep the crown on their heads and the titles on their backs, pushing past their limits and overcoming great challenges is the bare minimum. They need their skills and talents to be unparalleled.

And they were, for most of their matches, until they weren’t.

Yukimura Seiichi sighs, water dripping down his face and neck, soaking the collar of his club uniform. Only now does he feel the excessive heat from the match and the summer weather, sending shivers, like a thousand prickling needles, down his arms and back.

“… I lost,” Yukimura mumbles, fist clenching, his head hanging low. His team had held on, fought against contenders aiming for their crown, while he fought for his life. And when he came back, they, without a second thought, handed him their utmost trust, believing in his skills, his prowess.

They gave it their all, and still, the throne, the title, the crown were all snatched from their grasp.

Yukimura Seiichi, one of Rikkai Dai’s Three Demons, the ‘Child of God,’ let a first-year student from Seishun Gakuen take it from him.

How can he face his teammates now?

“Seiichi.” He would’ve missed the call, thinking he imagined it with the whispers of the wind, for how faint it was. But when the stomping on the ground grew louder with every step, Yukimura knew he was no longer alone.

“Senpai,” He says, stunned. He didn’t know he would come, for the last time they’d seen each other was during his predecessor’s graduation, when he handed Yukimura the metaphorical torch and his blessing to lead the team.

“You did well, Seiichi. You wore the crown well.”

Yukimura’s eyes fall to the ground. He doesn’t want to hear it, the obligatory ‘well done’ or ‘good job.’ Nor does he want the consolation prize.

He doesn’t want his reign to be remembered as the year Rikkai Daigaku Fuzoku Chuu’s Boys’ Tennis Team lost.

But they did lose.

He doesn’t want to be remembered as someone who failed.

But he did fail.

“You made it look easy, senpai, guarding the crown and what it stands for.”

The crown was taken off his head and put on another.

Yukimura Seiichi’s reign has come to an end.

“It’s heavy, isn’t it, the crown and all that it represents.”

me: i haven't watched or read anything about the prince of tennis in years also me: now, i want to write a drabble for my favorite prince of tennis middle school *whisper* rikkai dai *whisper* me again: and i want it to be angst!! 😤

a year later...

me: well, that took a while 😅

and yes, i timed this post to go up on the final day of Wimbledon 'cause why not?

[yuwuta]

i feel bad answering asks about different yuuta aus bc i really have the same answer/write him the same way every time 😭