a/n: the first thing i wrote after 6 months is a pedro pascal blurb, that's incredible... oh, and @leclercsinner and @yungbludz , thank you for not being on my side while writing this... (jk)
You drop your bag on the table at the entryway and take a glance at the living room, which looks like a toy disaster from the previous day, with Barbies, Legos, and coloring books scattered all over the floor and couch. As you make your way upstairs, you take a mental note to clean up the room before it gets any worse.
Leo, who is squirming on your neck while hugging his fox plushie, is babbling about some things you don't quite understand, but his enthusiasm still makes you giggle. “I think Daddy is still sleeping, baby,” you say, softly kissing his soft, blond hair that resembles your husband's hair in his baby pictures. “Let's wake him up, yeah?”
You push open the half-closed door and are greeted by the heart-melting sight of your daughter sprawled on the queen-sized bed, surrounded by her favorite plushies, while your husband lies on his back on the right side of the bed. You can't help but smile at the scene as you walk toward Pedro's side, sitting on the bed, trying your best not to wake him up.
“You ready, baby boy?” you whisper to Leo and place him on Pedro's bare chest when he gives you a giggle. You keep your hands on his soft torso as he tries to nibble on his daddy's chest with his barely visible three teeth, leaving spittle on Pedro's skin.
Pedro slowly opens his eyes with a smile. His left hand finds your knee and gently squeezes it. “Well, what a wet way to wake up,” he groans, gently pinching Leo's chubby cheeks.
“Did you like it?” you ask, grinning teasingly as you push the messy, wavy hair off his forehead. “It would have been better if his teeth weren't as sharp,” he replies, leaning in to leave a tender kiss on your lips. “Good morning, cariño.”
“Oh, ask me about it!” you grin against his lips, pressing your lips to his. “Good morning, my love.”
“Good morning!” Olivia, your four-year-old daughter, squeaks, drawing your attention as she crawls closer to her daddy's side, resting her head on Pedro’s shoulder. You know that she misses mornings like this, just like you and Pedro, so you decide to spend the rest of the morning in bed, listening to her interesting dreams and playing a little until she groans about being hungry.
-
“Liv,” Pedro says, feeding Leo with some blueberry porridge, “Have you seen Mama's nails? She got them done when we were sleeping.”
Olivia shakes her head, her brown eyes shining with excitement. “Mommy,” she whines, “Can I see them?”
You smile and take a sip of your coffee, “Of course, baby.” you reply, allowing her to take your hand between her little ones. She examines each of your nails, something she likely got from her daddy. “So pretty, mommy! So shiny!” she giggles.
“You like them?” you ask, earning another giggle from her, “Yes!”
“We can paint your nails later, princess,” Pedro says, pushing another spoonful into Leo's mouth while making a silly face to get him to eat.
“Can we now? Please?” Olivia asks, her eyes darting between you and Pedro but mainly focusing on him, as it's easier to convince him. “You should finish your breakfast first, baby.” you say, but she pouts at Pedro, giving him those eyes that can melt him instantly. “Don't look at me like that, princess, you heard her.” he replies, chuckling.
-
After breakfast, you leave Pedro and Olivia on their own and head upstairs to tuck Leo in for a nap, staying with him for a while before returning to join them. However, when you come back, you see they have already started painting Olivia's nails and watching cartoons.
“Hello, there,” you say, walking towards them. “I see you couldn’t wait for me.” you sit next to the toddler and kiss the top of her head.
“Daddy’s doing my nails now, and I’m gonna do his later,” she replies, her eyes still fixed on the glittery nail polish that resembles the color of your nails.
“That’s wonderful, baby. I bet daddy would love that purple glittery one,” you say, smiling and gently caressing her soft hair. “Do you need my help?”
She giggles and shakes her head, “Daddy chose that one,” she says proudly.
“Did you?” you can’t help but laugh. “Yes, but how did you know that?” he asks, feigning confusion as if you haven't known him for years.
“I married you, old man.” you tease him.
“Okay, we’re done down there, Liv!” he says with a smile, proudly admiring her painted nails. “Now it’s my turn!”
She puts down the pink tube and tries to open the purple one. However, when she realizes that her still-wet nails are leaving a stain on her palm, she hands it to you. “Mommy, can you open it?” she asks with a pout, looking at her nails. “They’re ruined.”
“Of course, baby.” you reply, opening the tube and giving it back to her as Pedro tickles her side and says, “Don’t make that face; we can paint them again.”
She smiles and places his big hand on her knees, beginning to brush the purple paint on his nails, trying not to smear the paint on his fingers (well, she painted almost all of her hands while painting her own nails). After painting two of his nails, she looks at him with a grin, “Can I use pink, too?”
“Sure, princess, whatever you want,” he replies with no hesitation.
“And green? And- and blue because Mr. Fantastic loves blue!” she exclaims, filled with excitement and energy.
You encourage her before Pedro can say anything. “What about coloring daddy's nails like a rainbow, baby? Different colors for each nail? And he could even show them off to everyone during his interview tomorrow.”
Olivia first looks at you and then at Pedro, and at this point, Pedro knows that he has no chance but to let her do whatever she wants.
“You're gonna look so pretty, Daddy!” she chuckles.
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Summary: Y/N spends her free week with Jannik in Monte Carlo before she goes to Stuttgart. Everything between them changes drastically when the conversation they've been avoiding is finally brought up.
WC: 2,8k
Genre: slowburn, fluff, angst and extreme misunderstandings
Note: Hi! I was planning to add Madrid + Italian Opens in this chapter as well but it turned out to be VERY long, so they're gonna be in the next chapter! Let me know what you're thinking about this and this series in general xx
<- previous chapter
April 2024
Monte Carlo, MC
You aren’t supposed to be here.
Not in Monte Carlo.
Not in his apartment.
Not wearing his “lucky” AC Milan jersey, drinking the fresh orange juice he just squeezed for you when you mentioned that you're not an espresso person, while bright sunlight spills through the wide windows.
You have almost two weeks before your next tournament, the Stuttgart Open. Normally, your team booked a short, countryside reset—a break for your body and time for your mind to breathe. But this time, those plans don’t survive Jannik’s last-minute text.
His name flashing across your screen is enough for you to cancel it all.
I’m leaving tonight, come with me? Just stay the week before Stuttgart.
You can stay with me.
And what are you supposed to say? No? You have no reason to.
You don’t even hesitate while typing of course. You don’t need to, because deep down, you’ve been waiting for it.
You have no obligations this week. No press. No meetings. Just empty days ahead—and you know that you would be absolutely alone and missing him even when you tell yourself you shouldn’t.
But his presence has become your comfort in a very short time.
You don’t want to leave his side. You haven’t since the moment you started training together. You tell yourself it’s just chemistry on the court, maybe just mutual respect, but that isn’t true anymore.
A part of you is just waiting for a reason–any reason– to be around him.
Miami shifted the things between you; everything feels steadier and gentler, although neither of you dare to name it.
But the change can be seen with the naked eye.
You haven’t seen it coming, not really. You tried to warm things up, but you didn’t expect him to contribute as well.
The gym sessions turned into late-night talks and shared dinners, where you learned about his childhood and his passions aside from tennis, his love for F1, and of course, his family. You told him things that you never said before, but somehow, everything felt natural with him.
The warmth he makes you feel isn’t like something new, it’s like something old has been reborn.
You're friends now, not just training partners, everyone can see that.
Literally everyone can see how well you both get along considering the past both of you both shared. And they try to support that as well since it’s good for your public image too. Because people love seeing you two together even though you just do that for each other, neither you nor he cares what they post or say about you.
And you are happy with whatever this is. You don’t want to question it because in your mind, if you do, you might ruin it again like you did before.
And you secretly hope that Monte Carlo would be where everything makes sense.
And little do you know—he hopes that too.
He’s aware that you've built something– something neither of you can ignore any longer. And, in his apartment, that tie’s tightened.
The first night is cute, chilling under soft blankets with a popcorn bowl on your lap as Jannik turns on Iron Man—his favorite, which he shyly admits—and you tease him endlessly before falling asleep curled into his side on the couch. He doesn’t move, even when the credits roll. He just shifts slightly, tucks you in closer, and whispers, “Stay.”
And you do.
You stay five nights in a row.
You never touch the guest room. You fall asleep beside him every night, limbs tangled in lazy comfort. Sometimes he reaches for your hand in his sleep. Sometimes you find your face in the curve of his neck, his heartbeat steady under your cheek. You never talk about it, but deep down, you know that friends don’t do stuff like that.
That week passes like a stolen dream.
Some mornings, when you don’t have early training, start late. You roll out of bed in his hoodie, trailing behind him into the kitchen, yawning while he tries to cook you breakfast. One morning, he actually burns the toast. He claims it’s the pan’s fault, but the truth is—he thinks he’s dreaming when he sees you in the shirt he wore the day before.
You say nothing, only smirk, and climb onto the counter with a knowing smile.
You still share the court, and during the moments you don’t, you watch him from his box. Legs crossed and eyes steady on him as the sunglasses hide how focused you are. He always looks back and checks you, though.
After practices, you take walks through the quiet backstreets of Monte Carlo. Jannik shows you his favorite cafés and viewpoints the tourists haven’t found yet. He never lets go of your hand during these times, not even once.
One time, while you’re on your phone talking with your manager about next week’s events, he surprises you by buying a silly souvenir keychain with both of your initials on it. You clip it to your bag right away, without needing to say anything. You can’t forget how big his smile is when he gives it to you.
Just this week, you probably spotted hundreds of times and you can’t imagine the headlines about you, but you don’t mind it.
Evenings are usually spent watching stuff. His favorite Marvel movies, dumb documentaries, or old Grand Slams you both pretend not to take seriously.
No matter what you watch, the nights end with you lying across his chest, your hand trailing absently along his stomach as his fingers play with the ends of your hair. He presses his lips to your forehead when he thinks that you're asleep.
Well, sometimes you aren’t.
You're aware of everything. Every shift in the air, every hesitation in his breath, and every soft look he tries to hide.
You thought that everything would stay like that but unfortunately, you’re wrong.
The day he loses in the semi-finals, everything changes. He takes you to a quiet place near the harbor. The place is fresh and bright as the sunlight dances on the water, almost too peaceful for what’s ahead.
You sit across from him with your crossed leg beneath the chair. You can’t quite tell but there’s something different about him right now– you've seen him losing before, it’s not that, he’s just… quiet. Looks lost in his mind– a bit distant– as fork and knife sounds fill the small table, you're the only one talking.
“Matteo was talking about a movie, horror I guess—maybe we can watch it before I leave?” you ask before putting the fork into your mouth, glancing at him as you wait for his answer. “Jan?”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” he says gently, eyes on the sea behind you. “The movie? He told you, too?” You laugh, because you know he probably did.
“No, I've been thinking about that night.” With his answer, the air quickly changes, and anxiety hits you in the stomach as the memory comes back to your head. You set your fork down slowly and take a sip of your water, clearing your throat as if it would clear your voice.
You don’t need to ask which night, because there’s only one night you've avoided talking about.
Well, apparently until now.
“Why?” you swallow, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible.
His eyes finally leave the bright sea and find yours, a hesitation is there but he shrugs. “Because this week– I haven’t felt like this for a while. Everything we've done showed me that we could have had this before. Whatever this is… We had a chance to have a year ago.” As he explains, you feel the hurt deeper in your chest.
If it were a few months ago, you could've blamed him, but now you know better. You know the fault isn’t just his.
You keep pinching your leg under the table as you stay quiet. You want to tell him how you thought the same thing, wishing you had whatever happened all this week before.
“I thought maybe you didn’t like me, you know, maybe that’s why you didn’t want more, but you do. I can see that, Y/N.” he looks at you with something you haven’t seen before, a hope for you to say it maybe. “I’m tired of acting like I don’t want more when it’s obvious.”
“Jan… I love this, and I don’t want to ruin what we have,” you exhale, your fingers are gripping your dress so tightly that you are scared that you're gonna rip the material. “This friendship, the rhythm we finally found–”
He cuts you off with hurt in his eyes, God, you hate to be in this situation right now. “Do you think this–what we have– is friendship?” he hysterically laughs. “Do friends fall asleep wrapped around each other? Or wear each other’s clothes like they belong to them? Do friends–”
“You know what,” He slightly leans towards and rubs his eyes, “Never mind, you already made up your mind.”
“I’m not saying I don’t want more,” You force yourself to meet his eyes, and add as your lips tremble. “I’m just saying that I don’t want to lose this while trying to have more.”
You're desperate for more, just like he said, but you're even more afraid of breaking the fragile thing you already have.
“Sometimes not trying makes you lose more,” he says quietly, leaning back slowly.
You know him enough to know that he didn’t mean to hurt you with these words, but it hit you like a punch, you want to cry as the weather feels colder on your skin.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” you murmur.
“Right,” he says, voice soft. “But you said these things that night too.”
You hate how his voice hit you colder than each time.
You hate how his smile disappeared by the moment.
The way to his apartment is silent as night, just like the rest of the lunch. For the first time since you arrived here, there’s no movies or evening walks. You leave him in the living room and go to the guest room for the first time, excusing yourself to pack up your suitcase since you're leaving for Stuttgart tomorrow.
You're both grateful and mad at the timing.
You wish you didn’t have to run between tournaments and focus on this topic for once, maybe you could've solved it for good.
But it’s not the time.
In the morning, he walks you to the door like he did when you first arrived, but this time the air between you feels heavier.
“So…” you start, “Will you be in Stuttgart?”
He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely on his chest. “Of course,” he says. “Wouldn’t let you get rid of me that easily.”
You laugh, but it doesn't reach your eyes.
“Okay,” you murmur, “I'll see you there then.”
For a second, you both pause, like you're waiting for something magical to happen. He must see it in you that he opens his arms, pulls you into his warmth one more time until the next time you see each other.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly to your hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or ruin anything.”
You breathe his scent, close your eyes, hoping the tears stop before he realises. “You didn’t, I promise.”
You lie though, it hurts you so deep that you can swear it feels like a knife inside you just twisted with this hug.
Bavek – Y/L/N
Porsche Tennis Grand Prix / Final
You're playing like a woman possessed, almost getting all your anger out of these poor, yellow balls. That’s how you've been all this week during all these matches though, nothing special to your opponent.
However much you say to yourself you don’t mind what happened, it shows that you're lying to yourself as well as the people around you.
After you arrived in the city, the text messages were never like what they used to be, no more selfies or TikToks he thinks are funny. Just very short and almost annoying “Good morning”, “Good luck” or “Good job” texts.
Not to mention he didn’t show up, you thought maybe, maybe he’d be there in the final, but he’s not. You've checked for him a few times during the breaks, but you couldn’t find the familiar face.
You feel stupid for believing that everything would be alright because he said so.
And it hurt more than it should have.
You serve for the last game, starting with an ace.
15-love.
15-all
15-30
30-all
40-30
And with the last serve, you kneel on the clay, letting it stain your sweated legs as you let the tears fall down your face. Your break moments on court are very rare and for some, it might be a bit strange as well, since it’s not even a Grand Slam or an important point for your career.
But that’s just an explosion of all the exhaustion you had, more than what you experienced on the courts.
You just needed to let it go even though you didn’t plan it to be right now.
After the match, you go directly back to your hotel room. Thankfully no one asked anything about your burnout or Jannik– maybe the burnout was enough to answer some, you think.
The TV hums low in the background, playing something you’re not watching, while the glow from your phone lights up your chest one last time.
Well done.
That’s all he wrote.
No voice note, no joke about your serve, no dumb meme to make you roll your eyes.
You haven't replied to him yet. You wanted to, God, you wanted to. But something about the silence between you lately makes you feel like maybe you shouldn’t be the one trying.
And yet it hurts.
More than it should.
The door clicks open softly, and your mom walks in from the suite next door, already dressed down for the night. She pauses when she sees you curled up on the bed, in your pyjama shorts and wrapped in a shirt she doesn’t recognize.
Her brow lifts. “Since when do you support Milan?” she mocks.
You let out a breath, more sigh than laugh. “I didn’t mean to pack it.”
She walks over, sitting at the edge of the bed with her water bottle in hand. She doesn’t press. She never does when she knows you’re already crumbling.
“You played a beautiful final,” she says gently. “You should be proud.”
You nod. “Thanks.”
She studies you for a moment longer, then looks at the television before muting it. “I saw you crying out there,” she says softly. “Not in a dramatic way. It was like you were hurt deep inside.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m fine.”
She smiles in that way only mothers can. “No, you’re not. But you will be, honey.”
Her hand settles gently over yours. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on,” she says. “I don’t know exactly what happened between you two, but I know that look on your face, and I know it’s not just about tennis.”
You don’t respond.
You can’t.
Your throat is tight, the words practically burn it.
“Whatever it is,” she continues softly, “you’re a smart girl. You’ve always been able to make hard decisions. But don’t lose something just because you can’t see what it would lead to.”
You look at her, and for a moment you feel twelve again—after your first big loss, crying in a hotel bathroom because you thought failing once meant you weren’t built for this.
“You can do multiple things at once,” she says. “Tennis. Love. Life. You don’t have to choose one and shut out the other. You don’t need to give everything away just to stay strong.”
As she speaks, as she points out the things that haunt you, the tears fill your eyes more.
“I’m just scared– frightened that if I try to have both and then mess it all up,” you say with a shaky voice. “I feel like I'm in a cursed Taylor Swift song.”
She squeezes your hand.
“Then mess up. And fix it. And keep going.” she smiles. “That’s what the right people let you do.”
You stare down at your lap.
“If it’s the right thing,” she adds, her voice warm, “the right person—it won’t pull you away from your life. It’ll just fit. You’ll still be you. And believe me, it would make your life a lot lighter.”
When the tears finally roll down your cheeks, she stands slowly, brushes your hair back from your forehead, and kisses you once before stepping toward the door.
“You’ll see him soon anyway,” she says with a soft smile. “Madrid’s only a few days away.”
You nod, lips pressed together.
“And whatever this is,” she finishes, “you already know what you want. Just don’t let the fear ruin it for you.”
Then she slips out, closing the door behind her.
You’re left in silence, wrapped in his shirt, heart full of something you haven’t named yet.
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summary: Birthday celebration with your boyfriend.
wc: 1.7k
genre: established relationship, smut!!
warnings: mention of alcohol consumption, swearing, NSFW; makeout, unprotected sex (be safe!), oral sex (F received), creampie and fingering as i remember
note: @jannikwpasta partner in crime, thank you so much! @yungbludz you won bestie, here is your smut with your man! happy happy birthday, i love you 🫶🏻
“Baby!” you squeak when you see your boyfriend’s pretty smile among the dancing people around you, you wrap your arms around his neck and give him a peck. “I thought you didn’t want to dance.”
He chuckles at your words and pulls your body closer. “I’m not going to dance amor, I need to steal the birthday girl for a second.”
“But the birthday girl wants to dance!” you whine and turn around between his strong arms, gently swaying your hips against him with the music. One of his hands drifts from your waist to your hip and presses you against himself, you bite your bottom lip and throw your head over his shoulder when you feel his member is already poking at your ass. He takes advantage of your move and presses his soft lips right under your ear, shamelessly pecking the sensitive skin. “Just 5 minutes, amor, then you can keep dancing.”
“5 minutes? You just said ‘a second’!” you chuckle.
“5 minutes and that’s all, vamos bebé!” he pulls you out of the drunk crowd and takes you to the bathroom through a hallway that is full of an even drunker crowd.
The second you get inside the bathroom, he sits you on the counter and gets between your separated thighs. His hungry lips pull you into a kiss, your teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance. Your hands immediately find their way to his neck and card your fingers among his newly cut hair, pulling him impossibly closer as his warm hands drag along your bare thighs to your hips, his fingers gently brushing your panties.
You break the kiss with a whimper when his thumb ghosts over your clit and slightly down to your slit, but his lips don’t leave your skin. He starts peppering kisses down your neck to your chest, taking advantage of the cleavage of your dress as he gets down. He hooks his fingers onto your panties and slowly pulls them down your legs as his lips find your thighs, his eyes never leave yours during his action.
“Someone’s going to walk in.” you finally find the courage to speak but he ignores your words and instead, he pushes your dress above your thighs and gets closer to your dripping core.
“No one’s going to walk in, amor.” you close your eyes for a second when his hot breath brushes over your wetness and you bite your lower lip. “Just relax.”
He pushes one of your legs over his shoulder before licking all the way up to your clit, kissing and sucking the sensitive bud. The throbbing on your pussy increases as his skillful tongue swirls over your clit and laps up your slick, and your cunt clenches around nothing with expectation. “Mhm- Fuck, I need you!” you whine, tightening your fingers around his thick hair, which makes him grunt against you.
“What do you want, amor?” he looks up at you, his hazel eyes darkening with his own need and your taste. “My tongue? My fingers? Tell me.”
“Whatever, please, I- I need your fingers, I need to cum!” you beg.
You know that he’s not going to make you work for it, he loves seeing you fall apart for him and making you feel relieved, but at the moment, you feel like you might explode if he keeps this teasing up and doesn’t make you cum right away.
“Anything for the birthday girl.” he sucks on your clit, and you can feel his smirk when you let out a moan as one of his fingers ghosts over your folds, soaking the finger before plugging in. After slowly pumping the finger in and out of your slick walls, he adds another one and continues his motion with an increased speed. His tongue never leaves or even slows down, and his fingers bully your tight walls until you can’t stop screaming his name.
“Uh- shit! Shit, don’t stop!” you throw your head back with the overstimulation when he curls his long fingers and curls his tongue around your clit, even though you hit your head into the mirror behind you, you don’t mind it, you barely feel it while all your body turns numb with the euphoria of your release.
Your legs start shaking around his head and your heel probably digs into his back as his left arm slinks around your leg and he pushes his face closer to your cunt, you’re not sure if he can breathe at this point but neither of you cares about breathing or being alive right now.
“That’s it,” he muffles onto your core when he feels your walls pulsing around him, and your orgasm hits you like a train with both his fingers and tongue on you, also the vibration comes along with his grunts and hums against you. “Give it to me, bebé.”
“F-fuck-” you whimper, he eventually pulls his fingers out off your sensitive walls but his tongue continues helping you ride your high. He cleans the mess both of you did and gives kisses along your inner thighs. “You did so well, so so well.”
You’re not sure when you close your eyes, but you finally open them when Carlos gently puts you on your feet as he stands up with a shit-eating grin on his face. “You want to taste how delicious you are?” he shows his hand, his long fingers glistening with your juice.
You grab his hand without saying a word and start sucking his fingers, your hazy eyes never leave him, not even for a second. He grunts when you suck them clean and give him an innocent smile as if you weren’t the one whose moans and screams filled the room a minute ago.
“Good girl.” he grunts, “Now, turn around. I want you to watch yourself when you come.”
And you do what he says, face the mirror behind you, and look at yourself as he pulls himself out of his pants. Your makeup is ruined a bit, well, it still looks good when you consider the amount of time you spent on the dance floor and sucking each others’ faces off, and your hair is a mess, but he’s the reason after all.
One of his hands pushes your skirt up over your ass and caresses your soft skin as his other hand pumps his already rock-hard cock, oozing precum with anticipation. You arch your back and push your body against him, smirking when you feel his muscular body against you.
You watch him licking his lower lip as he lines himself up at your entrance and smears your juice and his precum with his thick tip, you can’t help but hiss when he pushes it slightly inside your throbbing cunt. “Mhm-”
He fills you up, slowly but steadily, until he’s balls deep inside you. His strong arms pull your body impossibly closer to himself, and he starts kissing the nape of your neck, finding that sensitive skin under your ear again, and sucks it as he waits for you to get used to his size.
“You’re so warm and wet, amor-” he whispers as his dark eyes meet yours in the mirror. “I wonder why.” you smile, trying to distract yourself a bit but when he smiles back, your breath hitches, and your walls squeeze him even more, you feel like you can just cum with him looking at you like that.
You can’t tell if it’s because of the alcohol in your system or him, but you can’t get enough of him even though he’s literally inside your body right now.
He separates your legs a little more before start thrusting into you, it starts slowly but eventually, the bathroom fills with the sound of squelching and skin slapping, aside from your high-pitched screams which makes you wonder if the people out of here could hear you.
“Joder- You’re taking me so well, bebé, mhm- I’m gonna-” he grunts, watching where your bodies meet from behind, how your pussy squeezes him and creates a white ring around his thick member. “Me too, shit! Keep going, keep going-” you gasp when he pulls out to the tip and then slams into you with no warning. Your eyes close with the feeling, and the tight knot forms in your lower stomach again, but this time it feels more intense.
“Open your eyes,” Carlos orders, his member jerks inside you but he halts his motion when you don’t open your eyes. “Why did you stop!?” you open your eyes, almost crying with your ruined orgasm.
“I want you to watch yourself, amor, be a good girl, and keep your eyes open as I fill you up.” he says and starts slamming into you again when you nod at him, his fingers immediately find your arching clit as his sloppy thrust gets wild.
You grab whatever you find around you just to stabilise yourself as your legs give up on you, neither your nor his eyes leave you as your second orgasm hits you like a tsunami. Curses, cries, and moans leave your mouth without your control.
Before you can calm down, your boyfriend pulls another orgasm out of you as his veiny member switches inside and fills you up with his thick, creamy arousal. He stays inside you and hugs you into his chest before pulling out, letting himself feel your warmth a little more. “I love you, Y/N/N, happy birthday.” he kisses your neck.
When he finally pulls out of you, you see his face lighten up as the mix of your juices drips out of your cunt which clenches with his absence. “Stop smirking like a bitch and help me clean up before someone comes in!” you say with a smile.
“If they didn’t come in with your screams, you don’t have to worry about now.” he chuckles and starts cleaning you up.
“So funny!” you respond with a face smile as you try to fix your look as much as you can. “Can you give me my panties now? I can’t walk out of here when you’re still dripping down my thighs.”
“What panties?” he pouts as if he didn’t put them in his pocket. “My panties, Carlitos.” you look at him.
“Lo siento, no hablo inglés!” he shrugs, trying to hold his laugh back with your expression.
summary: Two idiots in love yet they are too blind the see what they actually feel for each other.
wc: 2.7k
genre: enemies to lovers (kinda)
warnings: swearing
note: ahem, that's my first fic about Jannik so i hope you'll like it! let me know about what you think xx
You take a deep breath and let out a relatively loud ‘Fuck’ as you spin around in the tight bathroom of the hotel room.
In less than 30 minutes you must be out of this hotel room and find your best friend, Charlotte, whose wedding you’re getting ready for but this damn dress is not helping you out at all!
“Are you good there?” you roll your eyes with the diacritical voice coming from the other side of the door, reminding you of the existence of the red-haired guy you somehow became a partner for the wedding.
Unfortunately, something dropped beneath Charlotte and Nico’s radar while pairing you two: Neither you nor Jannik can put up with each other’s presence.
You can’t tell whether they did this on purpose or not, but either way, you’re in no position to question it today. All you have to do is try not to jump down each other’s throats for the sake of your friends’ happiness.
“Y/N?” he calls out your name, you can’t help but roll your eyes again and ignore him. You wipe your sweaty hands off your dress and try to fasten the lace on the back of your dress one more time, you can feel your freshly made wavy hair slightly sticking to your nape as you rush and him calling out to you.
“Okay, I’m coming in!” he shouts and opens the door without wasting any second. “Sinner!” you scream as you turn your front to his way, “Get out! Why are you looking at me!” you point to the door. You look at him with wide eyes open, which is not so different from how he looks at you. “Oh my god, I could have been naked!”
“I-I’m sorry! I just- You have been here for hours and when you didn’t answer back I thought you died…” he speaks in a rush, his hands moving as fast as the words running out of his pale lips as his freckled face gets warmer. “How positive you are!” you mock him with an eye roll. “Well, since you know that I’m alive, you can leave. I’m trying to get ready.”
“Do you need help…” his long finger points at your dress. “...With the dress?” he asks monotonously after checking the watch on his right wrist.
You feel nervous with his question and knit your brows, gazing over your floral dress quickly. “Why did you just say that? Does it look bad? Why would I need your help?” you ask your questions one after the other before giving him a chance to answer. You can see his face get redder with shame as if it’s possible.
“No, no! It looks gor- good! It looks good!” he shakes his head and continues, “I meant the back of your dress, I saw your back, do you need help with it?” he explains, scratching the back of his neck as he runs his green eyes away from yours.
You have two options at this point: Tell him to fuck off for being so nice or just accept his offer for being so nice.
However much you want to choose the first option, he’s the only one here with you and you don’t have so much time left to finish getting ready.
“Okay,” you say, allowing him to get inside as you turn your back to him in front of the big bathroom mirror. “You need to make a cute bow, it should be tight but not so much.”
He closely steps behind you and takes the thin laces in his big hands, you push your hair over your right shoulder to give him space. You hold your breath as you feel the warmth of his knuckles brushing your lower back, you know you shouldn’t feel like this but his touch gives you goosebumps.
“I’m glad you’re not dead.” Jannik whispers and pulls you away from your thoughts. “Why?” you ask, your eyes find his eyes in the mirror, “I thought you’d be happy.”
He smirks at your words and says, “People would think I did it, no?” You laugh in the sleeve, which causes him to sigh and return to the dress after quite a short moment observing you.
Even though you try to ignore it, you feel a weird tension between you. Of course, there’s always tension between you two, but normally it’s something like hateful gazes or mocking words. You never saw him blush with your words or he never saw you laugh at his jokes, you only laughed at him.
‘He’s just tolerating.’ you think while finding yourself admiring his tall figure through the mirror. His copper hair is messy and curly as always, you wonder if he ever tried to learn how to take care of them, well, he probably didn’t.
“Is that good?” he asks, stepping back so that you can check yourself. “Yes,” you say shyly, “Thank you.”
He smiles and leaves you alone in the bathroom again, you continue getting ready: make some final touches to your hair and face, apply your perfume, and send a text to Charlotte.
When you step out of the bathroom you see Jannik sitting on the bed- Oh, by the way, somehow you only have one bed for the two of you. Isn’t it so ironic? However, that’s another day’s story!
Jannik lifts his head from his phone and looks at you when he hears the clatter of your heels on the floor. “I’m ready.” you say, walking inside the room with a tiny handbag on your wrist. “We can leave.”
“Oh, wait!” he sits up and grabs something from behind, making his way to you. “I need some help with that.” He shows the black necktie and stands in front of you all 6’2, waiting silently for you to do it for him.
You put your handbag aside and take the tie from his hands with a sigh, lifting your arms to reach his neck. “You’re 21 and don’t know how to tie a necktie? But it makes sense since Gucci does everything for you.” you say scornfully, trying to keep your eyes on the tie as you try to ignore how close your faces are because of your heels.
“I’m 22.” he responds with a smirk and adds, “And didn’t you need my help to make a bow for your dress?”
You roll your eyes as he laughs, slightly tighten the tie, and look at him with a fake smile. “Sinner?” you say.
“Sì.” he replies, keeping the smirk on his thin lips.
“If you don’t drop that stupid smirk on your lips I’ll fucking choke you with this tie, sì?” you say as you look directly into his shiny green eyes, your hands resting on his broad chest. You smile when he nods and licks his lower lip before biting his smile back. “You have weird fantasies.” he replies.
“Shut up.” you say shortly, you’ll probably need to get your eyes checked after rolling them so many times because of this Italian. “Sì, signora.” he replies with a chuckle.
“Good boy,” you can’t help but gaze over his lips as you give his chest a pet before grabbing your handbag and making your way to the door. “You’re all done, let’s go.”
You smile and slightly shake your head, wishing that the makeup on your face didn’t give any hint of the warmness and redness capturing your face during this stupid moment.
“She’s Chiara, by the way.” You turn your gaze to Jasmine, the other bridesmaid aka your friend, who’s sipping her champagne and looking in the direction you were looking at: The pool which is away from the crowd where a tall, blonde girl and your lovely Italian friend talk- actually, no, they don’t talk, she just laughs at everything comes out of his stupid mouth as if he’s the funniest person ever, which you know has no side to be the truth.
“Who?” you pout and try to play dumb as you take your glass from the high table that you lean over. “The girl you’ve been killing with your eyes.” she chuckles.
“I wasn’t!” you protest.
You were.
“I was just observing,” you say, shrugging your shoulders and adding. “Somebody should warn the poor girl about his boring ass.”
“Actually,” Jasmine starts, “They look cute, don’t they? Obviously, she’s enjoying a lot-” you cut her words with a chuckle, “She’s enjoying a lot!” you state. Both of you look at each other and start laughing when you hear her loud laughter again. “They’d make a cute couple.” she adds and joins the group of people dancing and singing for the bride and groom, leaving you there standing on your own.
You continue watching them blankly for a while with the idea she left in your mind. You’re not sure why but the thought of them being a couple makes you uncomfortable; maybe it’s because you’ve spent the day observing people - him - while he found a girl or it’s just her laughs that makes you uncomfortable.
The second option sounds more reasonable since there’s no reason for you to be jealous of him- Jealousy? Wait, who said that? Why would you be jealous of him?!
“So,” a thick voice takes you back to reality. You realise a brunette guy with wavy hair is standing next to you with all his charm, his hand is under his chin as he shows his bright smile with no shame and mimics you. “What are we looking at?”
“U-uh nothing? Just the dancing people, I guess.” you say with a shy smile. Why is everyone asking about what are you looking at today?!
“Okay.” he says with a chuckle. You remember him from somewhere, at least his face looks familiar. His name was something like Joe, maybe Jaoa? Joel, John, Jo-
“I’m Josh.” he says, he probably understands the blank expression on your face. “I’m a friend of Nico’s.”
Yes, and you probably remember him from one of these tennis tournaments.
“Y/N.” you say with a smile, “A friend of Charlotte’s.”
“I know,” he says, “I couldn’t take my eyes off you, you look wonderful today.” you feel the warmth all over your face, and you shake your head in disbelief as you chuckle, whispering a ‘thank you’. And that is the moment your eyes meet with a pair of green eyes.
His eyes are on you, he’s watching you with an unpleasant expression on his face.
“...What do you say?” Josh asks, your gaze turns back to him and his beautiful blue eyes again. “To what?” you ask, slightly feeling embarrassed for not listening to him. “To a dance?” he asks with a grin.
You look over at Jannik one last time and grab the hand Josh holds for you.
You smile at him and reply, “Yeah, I’d love to!”
Now it’s his turn to watch you.
“I'll be right back.” Josh presses a soft kiss to your cheek and goes to his friend’s side.
You’ve danced for three, maybe four songs and you can feel the sharp pain rising from your feet to your ankle caused by the high heels that you’re suffering yourself with. You slosh down a glass of champagne that you find on the table to ease the pain a bit.
Even though during the first song your eyes tried to find the Italian, after that, you forgot about him. You only focused on Josh, he told you about himself and his friendship with Nico. As you thought he was a tennis player too and had a chance to play with Jannik in Halle, you thought that’s probably why Jannik gave you those death stares, perhaps they were not even for you but for Josh.
Who knows.
You look around for Jannik and you hate yourself for this. Why do you keep looking for him or thinking about him today? His ugly hair, stupid smile, monotone voice, long fing- No, NO! You shouldn’t be thinking about him, why would you think about him like that when you could just simply ignore and continue to hate him?
Also, he’s probably sucking that blonde girl's face right now-
“Ciao!” you hear his voice behind you, Jannik, he’s right behind you.
“Let’s dance!” he says with a dirty smirk. What? “What?!” you squeal but before you acknowledge anything he takes your hand and takes you to the dance floor. “Come on, I love this song!”
He has no idea about this song.
“Sinner, I really don’t want to dance, I’m tired.” you grunt but don’t try to get away from his grasp because you know that if you did, he would let you go, and for some reason, you don’t want him to. You want to feel his hands on you, at least a little more while both of you are still tipsy.
Until both of you remember to hate each other.
He places his hands on your lower back and pulls you closer to himself as you loosely wrap your arms around his neck. You could swear you feel all his body pressing over your body, you could feel his warmness on you.
You just notice how messy his curls have gotten. He doesn’t have his black blazer on, his tie is loosened and his white button-up is unbuttoned just enough to give you a view of his sharp collarbones. He looks breathtaking.
“Why don’t you dance with Claire?” you finally ask, trying to avoid eye contact with him. “Chiara?” he corrects you with a smirk and continues when you nod to him with your head. “Why? Are you jealous?”
“Me? Jealous of you?” You make a face and roll your eyes with his question. “You’re drunker than I thought you were.”
“I’m not drunk.” he objects.
“Well, then that’s worse! You’re out of your mind if you think that with a sober mind!” you say and add as you try not to cringe, “No but seriously why don’t you dance with her? You guys looked so good together.”
They didn’t.
“It wouldn’t be nice to dance with her while I have someone else in my mind, no?” he asks with a pout.
“But it’s nice to dance with me while you have someone else in your mind? You’re being weird.” you say, trying your best not to show your disappointment. Who was he thinking and why do you feel the thing you felt when you saw him with her? Why is he doing this to you?
“I’m dancing with her.” he says. He looks at your face, trying to read your expression but you look at him so blankly as if you don’t want to believe him- Well, you don’t. “Oh mio-” he signs, “You’re so blind to see it, aren’t you? It’s you, Y/N, it has always been you!”
“No,” You stop swinging with him and shake your head in disbelief. “It’s- This is not funny, Jannik.” you say with a straight face.
“I’m serious, I like you so much and I can’t pretend as if I don’t, not anymore.” he says, you can feel his fingers tighten their grip around your sides, not to hurt you but more like to make sure you’re not slipping away from his fingers.
“No, you don’t!” you raise your voice without noticing but thankfully everyone is on its business to care about you.
“Why don’t you want to trust me?” Italian asks desperately. “Why would I trust your words when I know that you don’t like me at all? You hated me all the time we knew each other but you suddenly realised that you liked me when you saw me with Josh? Is that it?” you say without caring about the fact that your voice is cracking.
“Let me show you, per favore…” he tries again, “How would you-” and his pale yet warm lips press over yours, cutting you up with an unexpected kiss. You feel one of his hands quickly find your chin, and you let yourself relax under his touch.
Maybe he was serious about what he said.
And maybe you weren’t hating him either.
PREVIOUS NIGHT
“Can you stop kicking me?!” Jannik groans from your back, you can tell that his face is probably buried in the pillow by his hoarse voice. “Then stop spreading your long, hairy legs towards my area!” you say in a huff.
“Your area?” he says, you can hear the sarcasm in his voice.
“Yes, my area! Now go to sleep and stop rubbing your legs to mine- SINNER FUCK OFF! YOU'RE SO DISGUSTING!”
