Okay I Need To Finish This Fic First, But I Really Need To Write A Carlos Fic Where The Reader Is Like

His husband & his son!

Hitting them with the "Novak, you'll understand when you retire... Andy maybe you did too a little bit BUT ME AND ROGER WE DISCUSSED THIS ALREADY A COUPLE OF TIMES RECENTLY"

Daddy doesn't have favourites fr

Wait till the end. he's cute and amusing.

from Shanghai Masters twitter

Older — CA

AUTHOR: @brennendeerinnerungen gets half of the credits for this

SUMMARY: what happens when your whole career and morality are questioned by a handsome 21-year-old?

WARNINGS: angst

taglist: @ithinkimokeei @softxcharles @v5b5 @gogz-ee @lokideservesahug @hellzliz @lvspedri @bqbylon @anneioe @kalibabysworld @vettelonso @1273lucifer1273 @mokwkhaltk @cfcalcaraz

“Where is Carlos?” Carlos Sr asks when he notices his son has been gone for a while. I take a bite of my now cold food and glance at the men restroom every now and then, waiting for him to eventually come out of it. What happened in there is definitely not what I expected a week ago. The sight of him with someone else ignited something in me, something I could not ignore.

When I look up from my plate I see him get out of the bathroom. He has an indecipherable look in his eyes. I cannot tell what is going through his mind even when he is back at the table.

“There you are. Everything alright?” His mom asks him. Carlos nods, the submissive and entranced look in his eyes now gone.

“Yeah, I met a few fans and stopped for a chat,” Carlos explains himself. Good lie. I try to hide my smirk yet I cannot help but think about the events of just a few minutes ago. Despite having returned to the table, the Spaniard still hasn’t sat down.

“May I?” He asks suddenly stretching his hand out to Isa. The whole table looks at them and I cannot feign indifference. Uh? Isa blushes but unsurely takes his hand and stands up. The two of them walk towards the centre of the huge room where another three couples are slow dancing to the songs played by the pianist. I am in shock. What is going on? Have I read this whole thing wrong?

I can feel everyone’s eyes on me and all I want to do is disappear from the face of earth. But I cannot take my eyes off the couple who is in a tight embrace. Isa’s arms are securely wrapped around Carlos’ neck and his are resting on her hips, moving around as if they had molded into one thing. I feel nauseous.

“Are you okay?” Juanki whispers to me trying to avoid more looks from Carlos’ family. I nod and try to look away but every time I take my eyes off them, I am still reminded of what is going on over there.

“I’m fine, thanks,” I lie through my teeth and start playing with my food to focus on something different.

“I didn’t know they were back together,” one of Carlos’ brothers says and everyone at the table glances at me as if I had anything to do with it. This is exactly why I didn’t want everyone knowing our business. I hate the look of pity on their faces as they look at me. I hate to feel this embarrassed, this humiliated by the situation unfolding in front of me. As I stare down at my food my vision goes blurry. No, I am not going to cry in front of all these people. Not now, not ever.

“I’m feeling sick. I think I am going back to the hotel,” I whisper to Juanki, trying to avoid choking on my words. The Spaniard understands my point of view and explains to the rest of the table my sudden and abrupt departure. I spare them a quick and forced smile before rushing outside the restaurant. I don’t know what is worse: the scene I just caused or the view in front of me.

As I pace around the busy streets of London I can’t help but drown in self pity. What happened to the ‘I am a strong woman and I am not going to change for any man’ kind of girl? What happened to all the promises I made myself? What happened to keeping things strictly professional? Maybe it is not just about being humiliated in front of his family. Maybe it is not about being professional. It is about me lying to myself all this time. I have tried so hard to fight it, to fight the feelings I was so ashamed of showing but one way or another they came out stronger than anticipated. Suppressing them only made it worse and now I can’t walk without having to wipe my tears. The bright side is that the hotel is a ten minute walk away from the restaurant but the downside is that I am close to sobbing in the streets of my favorite city in the world.

I have tried so hard and in the process I only hurt myself and the people around me. I lied to Mario and I lied to Carlos just like I lied to myself. Maybe I should have just quit back in Queen’s. Maybe that would have been the right decision to make. The only right decision I seemed to have almost taken in the past months. But now it is too late.

Maybe Isa is the best option for him: someone his age that clearly has feelings for him. He might not see it but that’s more than most people have nowadays. Someone who loves you wholeheartedly and unconditionally. Something I am not sure I can provide him with.

I don’t even acknowledge the receptionist or any of the hotel workers as I storm inside the building and head to the elevator. I just want this day to be over with. Hiding in my room won’t solve every problem but it will make me feel safe, protected. The doors open and I am quick at jumping in and pressing on my room floor. Just as they are about to close a hand prevents them from doing so. Last thing I need is a stranger watching me with pitiful eyes till we reach the right floor.

“Y/N,” Carlos.

“No,” I push him off as soon as he steps in. He looks completely different than usual. His face is contorted into an expression of sadness and pain. As if he wasn’t the one dancing with his girlfriend in front of me to make me pay for all the things put him through. And I don’t blame him because I deserve it all but now I don’t want to see or talk to him.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Why did you leave?” He asks stepping closer. His proximity makes me unable to breathe or think. Especially if he looks at me like that. I shake my head in discomfort while tears continue to form in my eyes.

“Talk to me, please,” Carlos corners me while the elevator starts to move upward. His hands try to take ahold of my face but I shy away from his touch. I feel too vulnerable, too naked under his hazel eyes.

“Leave me alone,” I say swallowing back my pride and my tears. Carlos manages to cup my cheeks and tilt my head back to look at me in the eye but I keep my gaze down.

“Y/N please,” he begs me and I break a little as I hear the crack in his voice. Out of instinct my eyes flicker to his and I see they are almost as teary as mine. Is he crying? His hazel gems scan over my face and try to lock with my eyes.

“Don’t you see we are both hurting each other? For what? You cannot deny we have something, Y/N. Please, please tell me I mean something to you because I think I am going insane,” he almost sobs in my face and I can’t even form a coherent thought. He looks so wrecked and tired. I haven’t seen him like this even after the worst defeat of his short career. But in all his desperation he always looks unforgettably handsome. If I could I would take a pictures with my eyes of his beautiful face to never forget it, even on my last day on earth.

“Carlos,” I mumble with shaky voice and my hands hold onto his forearms almost afraid I may fall down. He presses his lips into a straight line and clenches his jaw, attempting to fight back the tears.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. You’re killing me,” he confesses with the first tears rolling down his cheeks. I can feel a knot in my throat and my stomach drop at the sight of him breaking down for me. What have I done to the smiley guy I once knew? What have I turned him into?

“Isa—“

“Fuck Isa. I am here now, Y/N. I want you, I only ever wanted you,” he spits out but he is not quite angry, he is more… exasperated. I can read it in his eyes he is exhausted and all because of me. I soften the grip around his forearms and try to take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize although I know it isn’t enough. Carlos presses his forehead against mine and looks down.

“I have never felt this way about anyone else, Y/N. And I hope I never do again because it fucking sucks. It hurts so much and I can’t do this anymore knowing I am chasing someone who doesn’t want me,” he mumbles, some of his tears falling onto my face and wetting my cheeks. I let out a soft sob, knowing that I am the cause of his pain just wrecks me. I never meant to hurt him this much. I have been trying to be the bigger person and act more mature because of my age but I have ended up doing the opposite, behaving like a child.

“I’m sorry, Carlos,” I say again as if my apologies could ever make up for all the damage I have caused. Carlos blinks away his tears that profusely roll down his face. I take my hands off his forearms and touch his chin gently, almost afraid he would retract from my touch. But he doesn’t, in fact, he lets me tilt his face slightly so that he can look at me. I stare at him in the eyes I don’t know for how long. I just know at some point an exterior force pushes me to kiss him and for the first time in months I don’t listen to my head.

Carlos is taken aback at first but doesn’t hesitate to kiss me back. His mouth moves slowly against mine, savoring every little moment as we kiss. It is different from that time in Queen’s. This time it is slow, soft, delicate. There is no rush or second intention. We kiss until we consume each other’s lips, until we run out of breath, until we can’t anymore. My hands slide from his cheeks to his neck and then end up at the back of his head, threading through his black locks.

Despite my brain being filled with racing thoughts that discourage me from kissing him, I try to keep them at bay and focus on the feeling of his lips on mine. My whole body melts with his and I never want to part away. It feels so good to be here, kissing him, breathing in his scent, touching him. It is like my whole body needed this to heal.

“Tell me you want me too, tell me you have feelings for me, por favor,” he begs pulling slightly back, short of breath and with wild eyes. I gasp, my fingers tugging gently at his hair as the elevator’s doors open and I am abruptly brought back to reality. I stare at Carlos in silence, my mouth parted but nothing coming out of it. Carlos looks back at me, waiting for my answer but I can see he is eager to kiss me again. Despite that, he wants to be careful this time, careful that I don’t take my actions back.

“I—“ I stutter. What is holding me back now? His phone interrupts us and he pulls it out of his pocket once he notices I am too distracted by it to give him an answer.

Isabela.

“She can wait, I want—“

“I gotta go,” I swiftly get out of his caging embrace. My feet sprint towards my hotel room while my head is a mess I cannot handle anymore. Why am I running away? Again? Why can’t I bring myself to be honest with the both of us?

“Y/N, espera por favor,” Carlos begs me as he tries to catch up with me but by the time he reaches the door I have already gotten inside. I slam the door harsher than intended. The Spaniard starts knocking repeatedly on it though.

“Open up, please Y/N. I just want to talk,” Carlos begs me as I rest against the wooden door, sliding down to floor as tears proceed to roll down my cheeks once again. When I am around him I lose control over myself and it scares me but when I push him away I feel weak. Putting a distance between us gives me a sense of control over my life. But is it worth it? To shut the only person that can make my heart heal just with his laughter out of my life? To have control? What do I need control for if I can’t live without giving it up?

“Y/N? Are you there? Talk to me, baby,” Carlos whines, his voice is so close I sense that he is in the same position as me.

“Tell me what I need to do to be with you. I’d do anything, I’d even quit tennis for you. Just talk to me,” he admits. How can he be so good at being vulnerable and exposing himself to love at 21 when I can’t even kiss him without being tormented by my own guilt at 26? Maybe it is true that sometimes being naive is more useful than being experienced. He seems to have nothing to be holding him back whereas I am here, crying like a baby because I cannot let myself go.

“Amor?” My heart melts every time he uses a pet-name for me. What would we be together? Would we work? What would the world say?

“I’ll stay here all night if needed,” he adds. Silence follows his words and I start to believe he is not lying. I stare at the bathroom door while I debate whether or not I should let go of all that useless control. Where has controlling myself gotten me so far? Has it worked? Maybe it has but have I lived or just been a secondary character in my own life? If I cannot find the strength and courage to admit my feelings for Carlos, then I will have to at least find the decency to quit. I cannot let him live in his own desperation and hope to find in me something I clearly cannot give him. Just because I have dragged myself into this self pity hole, it doesn’t mean he has to crumble too.

As I stand back up on my trembling legs, I hear a sniff coming from outside. He is still crying. My heart aches at the thought of him being in any pain caused by me. How can I hurt such a pure creature? My shaky hands take ahold of the doorknob and I open the door. Carlos almost falls down but quickly raises to his feet. His eyes are puffy red and wet but he looks more relieved now that I have decided to open the door. Neither of us says anything but we exchange a look that speaks louder than any word could ever. Then I move to the side and I let him come inside the room and inside my life.

the crowd was fujoshing so hard actually

he’s literally a disney prince

reminiscing how 90% of rafa nadal retirement tributes included roger in them.... his own legacy has roger eternally intertwined, impossible to be extricated. there isn't one without the other; when there is rafa there is roger, and roger, rafa.

another fedal edit . i tried to do something different, very inspired in this edit !

Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal in an interview during the 2019 Laver Cup Gala / Roger Federer in an Instagram post celebrating Nadal's career / Roger Federer in an interview during Indian Wells after Rafa withdraws from their semi-final and would-be 39th match, 2019.