#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.

[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.” 

[alcqraz]

★ 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.

[scuderiasundays]

you and me together

summary: a growing rift between you and carlos mixed with late night celebrations for an old friend + a little insta au at the end!

words: 1,345

a/n: this is the first time i've gotten a request for a fic so a big thank you to anon for sending this in! i've been fixated on who will win wimbledon 2023 so i had to incorporate a few tennis players 🎾

Carlos had managed to score some much-needed time off to make it to Wimbledon. The two of you had always dreamed of witnessing the pinnacle of tennis, booking the trip ages ago when the two of you were on steadier ground. Carlos was going to join you after his stint at Silverstone, while you had landed in London a day earlier to reconnect with college friends.

"Looks like Taylor's the hot favorite this year," you grinned. You and Taylor had a loose connection through Alexa, his cousin, who happened to be your college roommate. Whenever Taylor felt overwhelmed by the pressure of ATP rankings, he would swing by their apartment unannounced. The easygoing Californian would tag along to frat parties, going in as a stranger and emerging with a whole crew of newfound friends. You had played the role of Taylor's personal chauffeur, escorting him home in his intoxicated state, all the while indulging in his drunken rants about seeds, tournaments, and prize money. You always had a hunch that he had a thing for you, but your busy schedules kept the two of you delicately tiptoeing around the topic, never quite addressing it head-on.

You couldn't help but wonder how different things would be if you had taken a chance on Taylor. Stuck in a relationship that felt stagnant, you walked through the familiar streets of a city where you and Carlos had once roamed during his McLaren days. London summers seemed to stretch on forever, with the sun setting late around 9:30 PM. You and Carlos had once strolled through the city hand in hand, lost in aimless conversation. Now, the demands of your job kept you from accompanying Carlos to race weekends, while he rarely made it home, going straight from races to the simulator in Maranello.

When Carlos strolled into the hotel lobby with Charles by his side, you couldn't help but let out a faint sigh. It wasn't exactly a huge surprise since you knew Charles was a tennis fanatic, and you actually liked hanging out with him. On the other hand, you had secretly hoped this trip would be your shot at reconnecting with Carlos and maybe reviving the dwindling spark. Well, there goes that idea, you thought, feeling a twinge of disappointment set in.

As you entered the hotel room, Carlos asked, "You don't mind that I brought him, do you?" You replied, "No, not at all." Carlos proceeded to mention that he had to hit the gym since the Hungarian Grand Prix was coming up, emphasizing his "no days off" mentality. He affectionately kissed your forehead before shutting the door behind him.

Just as you were about to head out, a text notification popped up. It was from Carlos, apologizing that he couldn't make it to the Gentlemen’s Singles Final. Ferrari had sprung a last-minute PR commitment on him and Charles, but he promised to make it up to you. You were gutted, quickly dialing Alexa's number. You didn’t even feel like watching the match anymore, but she was adamant that you join her in Taylor's box. It had been years since you had last seen Taylor, and you were dazed by just how much he’d changed—a newfound aura of confidence that screamed "America’s No. 1."

"Y/N, it's been too long!" Taylor exclaimed as he pulled you into a warm hug. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as you wished him luck and turned your attention to Centre Court, where Taylor was about to embark on an epic showdown against Carlos Alcaraz, the newly crowned world No. 1.

As the final point was won, the stadium erupted into an explosion of applause and admiration. Taylor stood tall, basking in the well-deserved glory of his hard-fought win. Emotions ran high as he shook his opponent’s hand in a display of sportsmanship and mutual respect.

Taylor's victory had set the stage for a night out on the town, and drinks were on him as the entourage made their way into the vibrant Sexy Fish in Mayfair. Congratulations poured in from all directions, amplifying the elation in the air. However, amidst the festive ambience, a pang of longing tugged at your heart, reminding you of the nights you’d spent by Carlos' side, reveling in his victories and beaming with pride.

As the evening progressed and the champagne flowed, you playfully grabbed an imaginary microphone, assuming the role of a reporter. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you turned to Taylor, who stood at the bar, soaking it all in. "You just won Wimbledon! How does it feel to be on top of the world, Mr. Fritz?" you mockingly asked him.

Taylor, caught off guard but never without his notorious charm, grinned and replied, "I don't even have words, Y/N. I wasn't in the best headspace going into the match, but you showed up, and something just clicked. Maybe I'd be World No.1 if you were in my box at every tournament." His playful words made you blush, fully aware of the harmless flirtation at play. You knew you weren't doing anything wrong, yet the room seemed to spin, overwhelming you with a sudden rush of emotions. Excusing yourself, you swiftly made your way towards the ladies' room, seeking a moment alone to gather your thoughts in the midst of the whirlwind celebration.

As Carlos and Charles walked into the restaurant, accompanied by a group of older executives, they immediately spotted you amidst the crowd. Charles couldn't help but make a lighthearted remark, "Funny seeing you here, Y/N! Any chance you can introduce us to the Wimbledon champion?" Relief washed over you, knowing they hadn't overheard your conversation with Taylor. Taylor was stunned to say the least as you walked back to the bar with two rather muscular men by your side.

“Taylor, meet the Scuderia Ferrari boys. Boys, meet Taylor.” The handshake exchanged between the three men was cordial, but Carlos, always quick-witted and ever possessive, raised one of his infamous eyebrows and chimed in, "Thanks for the introduction but I’m your boyfriend more importantly, no?" The playful remark had a tinge of jealousy in it, causing a momentary pause in the conversation.

Just then, Alexa, your ever-supportive confidante, happened to pass by. In her extremely inebriated state, she voiced what had been gnawing at her mind, "Not for long if you don't treat her right. You barely show up for her." Alexa had been there through the ups and downs of your rollercoaster of a relationship, aware of the challenges posed by long-distance and the strain it had placed on the both of you.

Overwhelmed by the weight of it all, you felt the need to escape for a moment. Without a word, you made your way outside, craving the coolness of the night air. Carlos, sensing your distress, followed closely behind. Observing your shivering, he swiftly handed you his navy blazer, offering you comfort in the only way he knew how.

"I'm sorry I haven’t been putting us first lately. I can tell I'm losing you," Carlos admitted with a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, his hands fidgeting nervously—a telltale sign of his unease. You could tell he was hurting as he struggled to find the right words. He had been grappling with the reality of your relationship slipping away, yet hesitant to poke the bear.

“It’s not just you, Carlos. It’s me too. Neither of us has been putting in the work and it shows.” Carlos nodded as his gaze softened.

“Where do we go from here?” Carlos muttered.

"Where do we go from here?" you repeated, mulling over the open-ended question. It held infinite possibilities, a multitude of paths stretching out before the two of you. And in that moment, you knew what you wanted more than anything.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you looked up at Carlos, a spark dancing in your eyes. "Let's just walk around the city like we used to. Take me anywhere, as long as the night ends with you and me together."

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

liked by carlossainz55, taylorfritz, and 57,575 others

yourusername: what a weekend! catching up with forever friends, getting my steps in, and watching the sunrise with my person 💚

alexafritz: you’re stuck with me for life

yourusername: i love this photo of you, lex! i’d be lost in a world without you 🫶🏼

carlossainz55: solamente mía

pierregasly: how dare you even think of going to wimbledon without me, @charles_leclerc 😤

charles_leclerc: calme-toi, mate! i didn’t even get to go but i did meet @taylorfritz 😏

yourusername: get a room

fan1: i went on a run in primrose hill this morning but i didn't want to bother carlos and @yourusername because they looked so blissfully in love

taylorfritz: you and lex are the best (loudest) cheerleaders 📢

yourusername: rooting for you always!

update: part two here ➡️

[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!

[onboardsorasora]

Been rewatching Break Point and couldn't help but think about tennis player Daniel meeting F1 Champ Max.

Idk if this this any good but...

Tennis AU?

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Max sees Daniel at the Monaco GP, he doesn't know who he is but he notices the attention he's getting walking around. Almost to the same degree as a driver.

He asks around and is told that Dan's a popular tennis player. He's in town because he just won the Monte Carlo Masters and is having a training camp for the French Open. He's been having a stonking season, winning his home tournament, the Australian Open and was the favourite to win the French.

He can hear his laugh down the paddock, he's talking to Mark at McLaren now, but before he was walking around Aston Martin with Lance's sister and her new husband.

He's hot and Max finds himself staring in-between sessions. He's wearing some flashy party shirt and ripped jean shorts. The peekaboo flash of tattoos on his thighs make Max wonder if the texture of his skin would feel different on his lips than the texture of his bare thigh. Would the colour pop more when smeared with come?

He turns away and steps into the safety of his garage with his crew. He sipped from his bottle and actively stopped himself from playing with the straw with his tongue. Out of the corner of his eyes, Daniel's walking by, stopping to talk to Christian.

Christian is waving him over now, of course he wants to show off his champion to this hot, sexy-

"Daniel, this is Max." Christian is a proud papa, clapping Max's broad back with a big smile.

Daniel's smile is bigger, brighter. He's hotter up close and Max hopes his blush is explained away by the sun.

"Hey Max. Crazy good driving out there." Daniel greets and Max enjoys the way his lips form the syllables of his name.

He smiles in return, wider than his media smile, warmer than the grin he gives when Christian has him meet other celebs.

"Of course." He replies, his voice scratchy. "Congrats on your season."

"Thank ya thank ya." His grin was impossibly wider, as if he were blushing. Max couldn't tear his eyes away even as someone grabbed Daniel's attention and Christian waved him off.

"Fuckin' full send out there, yeah?"

"Full send." Max parroted, and Daniel was off. Max saw Christian looked at him consideringly and sucked on his forgotten straw instead of meeting his eyes.

"I'll talk to Vicky about tickets." Is all he offered before walking away, clapping Max on his back. Max followed him back into the garage, mentally going over all he knows about tennis.

[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

[auiciqa]

𝓣𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭

[chris-continues]

On the court-

Highschool tennis player Knives/reader

Tysm for the input from @cowboylivio since I know nothing at tennis T<T

Knives rolled his shoulders, cheers and jeers erupting from some girls with no self respect behind him.

Shameless.. he muttered under his breath, cringing at the sweat accumulating on his face and back. Sun beamed over the court as he faced his opponent who took a sip from his water, Knives deciding to do the same.

“Good job man.” His coach handed him his water, “Keep it up Saverem!”

“Thank you.” His reply was as stiff as ever, to his coach’s amusement. The score was in his favor thankfully, (6-3, and despite being an underclassman he was a backup for varsity. If needed, of course.

He started changing sides on the court as brief clapping interrupted the volley, a few people from his school watching.

Including you.

You gave a small wave once his eye was trained on you, excitement emanating from your person. Did you enjoy watching him play that much?

He only offered a scoff, before turning away.

…

Well. He turned back, then gave a small wave. Vash would most definitely be laughing at him now- for his apparent fondness of you. He did his best to take his water break and prepare for what was to come next on the court- with your eyes trained on him, obviously.

Something bloomed in his chest at the thought of you watching- but that was for another time.

[beyondthegame]

hiii can i please ask for “sparks when skin brushes skin” for milan??? only if you’re still doing the prompt list shsjsjs i realized i haven’t given my bestie enough love 😪 thank you <33

There are many ways to describe an athlete. A human being, yes. Definitely. But there are difficulties that come with understanding someone who dedicates every waking moment of themselves to sport. Who dedicates their life to it. The ones who are competitive, the ones who dream of winning and feel the tingle in their bones after doing so.

But also feel the deep dread and shame when inevitable loss occurs.

That. That is not what many would understand.

Milan does. They experience it the same way you have countless times.

They have a court. You have a pitch. They can have up to hours. You have ninety minutes.

You came out with a win today. Milan suffered a loss.

Milan’s personality is easy to decipher. It’s carefree, happy-go-lucky, ‘you only live once’, ‘dance in the rain’ and ‘live in the moment’.

This is a moment they do not want to live in. Being stuck in their hotel room. A broken racket on the floor, a broken heart too.

It’s only the two of you in there, and neither of you have uttered a word. They’re sitting with their back against the wall whilst Milan let’s you take the sofa for yourself.

“Milan…” What could you possible say? ‘You played well?’ That would be a lie, and Milan would suss that out in an instant — not because they’d hear the sound of your voice but because they know their match was utter shit.

They scoff. “You don’t have to console me.” They lift their eyes up to you. “You can go, if you want.”

You do the exact opposite. You move from the sofa and take a seat next to them on the floor. You mirror them: your back against the wall, your legs outstretched.

“It just wasn’t your day,” you murmur.

“The match was done in less than an hour,” Milan counters.

“And in the next one you’ll last longer and have a smile on your face at the end.” Silence washes over you again. “I’ll even buy you a new racket.”

Their lips curl up at that. Slightly. So slightly. “That was my favourite one too.” Milan glances towards it before looking at you. “What are you doing here anyway? Not that I’m not grateful, but you have a flight in the morning and it’s already late.”

You shake your head. “A rare occasion where the two of us are playing in the same city abroad.”

“Exactly. Which is why you should be out celebrating your own win.”

Your eyes stay locked on their dark brown ones. “The two of us are getting to the pinnacle of our sports. We’re doing that together, and that means being here for you the same way you have for me.”

You know for certain that if the roles were reversed that Milan would be comforting you. With your favourite takeaway and a dance playlist to lift your spirits.

Right now, you’re just returning the favour.

You both stare at each other, and Milan makes the tiniest movement that has their hand brushing against yours.

You’re not sure if it’s the intimate and emotional situation you’re in, or something else, but the sudden feeling of electricity erupts against your skin. Not in a way that’s overbearing, but one that is delicate and tender. One that shouldn’t feel so exhilarating next to someone who’s your best friend.

You begin to wonder whether Milan has felt it too, or whether losing a tennis match had numbed them to such pleasurable feeling.

They open their mouth to speak, but no words come. But you see the look in their eyes.

Milan felt 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.

[hatter-and-his-tea]

Torment | Prince of Tennis | Tezuka x Fuji

There was silence between them.

Despite sitting next to one another, they found themselves talking to the person in front or next to them, rather than to each other.

The ciggarette’s smoke in the izakaya was pungent and the lights barely illumintated their table and the foods that were scattered across the table.

They had decided to hold their reunion at this old style izakaya. Hidden in a small lane, it was a local place with a wooden interior.

The place reminded Fuji of Kawamura’s sushi, before they decided to close down. He still found himself missing that place, that moment in them where they were all much younger and fighting for the National.

With every sip of the cold sake making his way to his lips, the blue eyed prodigy found his mind feeling a little bit lighter and numb.

He needed the power of alcohol for tonight, especially when he found himself sitting next to that man.

Tezuka Kunimitsu, the current and youngest Grand Slam Champion. They haven’t seen each other for years. Ever since the U-17, life decided to drift them apart.

The last message that Fuji sent him was wishing him a Happy New Year and that was 2 years ago. Despite changing his phone, the prodigy still keeps the messages stored.

“Here’s your drink.” The waitress suddenly placed another drink in front of him.

“Ah, I didn’t order this.” Fuji chirped in. He was about to return the drink, fingers gripping the full glass of oolong hai when he felt another hand gripped his.

“It’s mine.” Tezuka told him, his fingers were still touching him.

“A-..” Fuji nodded and placed the glass nearer to the man.

He released the glass and expected Tezuka to do the same. Instead, that warm and wide hand, rough from gripping the racket his whole life, kept intertwining his fingers with the prodigy and brought it under the table, right on top of the tennis player’s hip.

Fuji felt his face flushing bright red, like a kid. At least, this time he could blame it on the alcohol.

With his head feeling light, lips numbing from the cold drink and the alcohol, heart beating loudly, and the chatter surrounding them that appeared to never ends, Fuji came to wish that the party would end soon, finally ending his one-sided love.

…

I wanted to make an r rated version. Maybe next time. Gotta be in that mood first lol

[partyofwords]

2:33 PM ~ *Jakurai Jinguji*

Summary: You and Jakurai compete on the tennis court!

Pairing: Jakurai Jinguji X G/N!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 427

Warning: Jakurai is a little OOC but I think it makes him fun

Masterlist

You sighed, stretching your arms over your head. “What do you want to do today, Jakurai?”

He shrugged, looking through his date book. “I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

“Good question.”

Glancing over at you, he set his book down. “Well, what’s something we haven’t done in awhile?”

You shrugged this time. “Good question. I feel like we’ve done everything recently. Maybe that’s why we’re both so bored.”

He laughed. “Maybe. What about the botanical center? We haven’t been there in a week or so.”

“I suppose. Or we could just go downtown. They have new tennis courts. I’m in the mood to destroy you at tennis.”

“Oh?” One of his eyebrows perked up and a mischievous smile tugged at his lips. “Is that so? Are you willing to put your money where your mouth is?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“One game. If you win, I have to say yes to whatever you say for twenty-four hours. If I win, you have to say yes to whatever I say for twenty-four hours.”

You purse your lips before returning his scheming smile. Taking his hand, you shook it firmly. “You have yourself a deal, doctor.”

“Game on.”

After changing into something you both could play in, the two of you went downtown to where the new courts were. You both warmed up before getting ready to start the game. As you bounced the ball, ready to serve, you called, “Standard rules, alright? And no cheating!”

“Fine. One game, the winner takes all.”

And so it began.

The score was tied throughout the whole game. It seemed every time one of you scored, the other answered back perfectly. It felt like the game was never going to end. But you didn’t care. You were having too much fun to care. It had been a while since you and Jakurai could indulge in a little friendly competition. The prize didn’t even matter anymore. You were just happy to be here.

Until one lucky serve and an excellent hit.

“I win!” You cheered as Jakurai scowled.

“You cheated!”

“I did not!” You gasped, offended.

He laughed. “Yes you did!”

“Did not!”

“Alright fine, you didn’t. Still, it was a good game.”

You nodded and shook his hand. “Yes, a good game indeed.”

Before he could pull his hand away, you yanked him in close. A devious smile graced your lips. “Be prepared for tomorrow. I have a plan for your Yes Day.”

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

[croszukis]

writing sidgeno which means turning on Tennis… save me husband wife duo husband wife duo save me

[rafecameronssl4t]

rafecameronssl4t’s masterlist!

gif by @chenslucy

R.C

Tell ur girl

Misunderstandings pt. 2

Untouchable

My girl, my business

Cart girl

Tennis

Never say never

Jealousy, jealousy

Loyalties

Please, please, please

Territorial bullshit

Real classy

Who invited you?

Wildflower

Bringing another girl home

She want me bad

You, and you only

Jealousy is a disease

Stole my man, not my problem

Thinkin’ bout me

Passenger Princess

Low life

Canon fics

What’s good, John B?

Midsummers

Officially your bitch

Tracked

Stay off Figure 8

Pretty in pink

Business talk

Bonfire

Me and the devil

All for her

Trapped

Chasing smoke

What is French for priceless?

The swell

What’s ours

Drabbles

Yacht day

VIP life

Tennis

Pointe shoes

Whipped

Rafe x ballerina!reader hc

Daddy's girl

Lunch with the family

D.S

Night out

Babysitting

Other masterlist

nfl!rafe x dcc!reader

dad!rafe x fem!reader

rafe x Thornton!reader

rafe x fem!reader forced marriage au

rafe x fem!reader love island au

frat boy!rafe x fem!reader

Recent works down below :)

What’s ours

Bad at love

Low life

Yours to keep

Chosen p.t 2

[onboardsorasora]

in love with Max reducing high-performance athlete Daniel into a pile of mush on the bed. Daniel’s definitely moving slower the next day on the court.

Anonstie, you know wassup. There's no way that that doesn't stay with you, you know?

Daniel in media all day: 🥴😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7

Pt 6?

"Oi!"

Daniel snapped out of his daydream, grunting as a tennis ball hit his stomach.

"Sorry. My bad." He coughed and readied himself behind the line. He shook his head to dislodge the dirty dirty thoughts that have been following him all day.

Last night with Max was amazing. Way more of a good time than he had anticipated.

Way way more.

He hadn't been folded like a lawn chair in a while. His body was still buzzing, his hole was feeling phantom thrusts at this point. Was that the breeze, it felt like Max's breath on his neck.

"DR!"

"Shit, fuck. Sorry" Daniel shook his shoulders out and bounced in place for a second.

He'd been spacing out all day, having all sorts of sex flashbacks at very inconvenient moments. Luckily he was able to save it in his media duties this morning. Making jokes in various interviews that he was reliving winning the Australian Open, which always opened the floor to follow up questions about the same then brought the interview back to whatever original question they'd asked him about the French.

Blake noticed though. Blake always noticed. And he wasn't happy with Daniel's distraction. He'd told Michael, like a fuckin' narc. And now here he was in punishment. Today was supposed to be a gaddamn rest day or whatever.

He'd already run fifty million laps, did too many burpees and now, well he wasn't paying attention now was he.

His body this morning was pleasantly achy and sore. Now though, now, he needed an ice bath something fierce. These fuckers.

"Maybe you shouldn't meet up with Max until after the Open, if this is gonna be what we have to deal with." Daniel heard Michael mutter exasperatedly.

"Whoa whoa there. Maybe we shouldn't be so hasty." Daniel chimed in. It wasn't that bad, there was no need to make such sweeping judgments.

"DR, you've been biting your lip and blushing all fuckin' day. You just daze off." Blake glared.

"You've been distracted as all fuck, and you keep reaching for your phone." Michael raised a brow judgingly.

Ok maybe it was so bad. Yikes on a bike.

"Jesus Christ we've never seen you so dick whipped."

"It's great that you got some. But can we not have it interfere with your season?"

"Ok ok so maybe, I kinda sorta am dickmatized." Daniel offered, placatingly. "It won't affect the Open. I promise."

"It better fuckin' not." Blake narrowed his eyes, fingers pointed. Daniel didn't want to disappoint his team. They worked too hard for this. He worked too hard for this. He can't be distracted now. Not by some guy. Even though he was hot as fuck and built like an absolute unit and his tongue felt so good and he already seemed to figure out how Daniel liked to be fucked an-

"Jesus H Macy!" Micheal threw his hands up and walked off the court.

The power rangers/kim possible theme went off in his bag.

Daniel smiled at Blake's annoyance, embarrassed. Just a little. He really got it bad.