Whole Lotta Cake

ahahaha straight to business

Welcome back, Jannik — anything new you would like to share?

In an attempt to lighten the mood a little -- what are your favourite jannik pictures off the court? (Specified off court because tennis does not exist, it cannot hurt any of us)

I LOVE THIS QUESTION

Everything has changed

Jannik Sinner x Reader

Synopsis: You're the girl next door, foreign, and out of place. But you meet the red-headed boy from the house next to yours and changes your life.

a/n: 2/3 fics :p im so soo sorry for making u guys wait, tourney has been unforgiving and it's hard balancing activities hahaaa but yeah after my tournament i got to go to madrid and see matches happen in real time so yeah.. but i kinda wished jannik was playing, i miss him. BUTTT we get to see him again in a few weeks and i cannot wait for that. alright enough oversharing hope u enjoy this fic!!!🤍🤍

It all started when you moved to Italy. You were just a kid, barely twelve, when your family decided to make the move from your home country to Jannik’s small hometown of San Candido. At the time, it felt like an impossible adjustment, a different world filled with strange customs, a new language, and people who all seemed so far ahead in their lives. But there was one constant that kept you grounded: Jannik Sinner.

He was thirteen, just a year older than you, but he made everything feel easier. He was quiet, a little reserved, yet incredibly kind. His smile was rare but always genuine, and it seemed like he always knew how to make you feel at ease, even in the most foreign of settings. He spoke in his thick Italian accent, which at first was hard for you to understand, but soon enough, you’d learned his words as if they were your own.

The two of you were inseparable. Every afternoon, after school, you'd both ride your bikes through the winding streets, exploring the beautiful town together, laughing over things that seemed silly to everyone else. It wasn’t long before you realized you had developed an undeniable bond with Jannik. The friendship blossomed naturally, and you never thought twice about it, he was just the boy you grew up with. The boy who always made you feel like you belonged.

By the time you were sixteen, something in Jannik changed. You could feel it before he even said it, before you even understood it fully. You’d noticed the subtle shifts in the way he looked at you, the way his hand would brush yours when you walked side by side, the way his smile became a little warmer every time he saw you. The small things that shouldn’t have meant anything, yet they did. But you were too caught up in your own world, high school, your family, your plans, to pay much attention to it.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking,” Jannik said one evening, the two of you sitting on a grassy hill overlooking the town. He was staring at the sunset, but you could see the tension in his jaw, his lips pressed together like he had something heavy on his mind.

“About what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, trying to read him. You could tell something was different in the way he spoke. It wasn’t the usual carefree Jannik who would joke around and tease you.

“I’ve been thinking about tennis,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure whether he should say it or not. “About how... I might want to take it seriously, go pro. You know, travel the world and all that.”

It wasn’t a surprise. He was already exceptional at tennis, the best player in town by far. You’d always known he had potential, but the weight of it hit you when he spoke those words aloud. He had always been so grounded, so humble about his talent, and now, you could see the pressure in his eyes.

"That’s... that’s really amazing, Jannik, you should go for it. I mean, whatever you feel like what works for you, you know?" you said, trying to sound as supportive as you could. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. The thought of him leaving, leaving everything behind, was too much to process.

His eyes flicked to you, reading your expression, shaking his head. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to leave here, though,” he said quietly, as though he were confessing something. “I don’t want to leave you.”

The way he said that made your heart race. You opened your mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. The moment stretched on, both of you sitting there in the silence, but the air was different now, charged with something unspoken. Something you didn’t know how to name, and neither did he.

But the day came, and Jannik left for the big leagues. It wasn’t a grand goodbye, just a quiet one. You clung to him, as if it was the last because this was the last you'd be having this. Having him. "I'll miss you." You'd say, swallowing the tears back. "I'll miss you even more," He'd press a kiss to your temple, and you'd pretend it meant something to him. Because it did to you, and maybe, it meant something to him too.

You watched him go, as he stepped onto the plane to begin his journey. And you stayed behind, your world still in San Candido, your heart feeling the loss more than you ever expected.

Years passed. You focused on your studies, diving into your work, pushing through medical school. You had dreams of becoming a doctor, helping athletes, but every now and then, Jannik’s face would flash in your mind. It wasn’t often, but it was enough for you to realize that part of you still held onto him, even from afar. You followed his career, of course. Everyone did. He became one of the best players in the world, and with every victory, you felt a mixture of pride and ache. He had become everything you had always known he could be. And as much as you tried to ignore it, you couldn’t deny that you missed him.

By the time you were twenty-four, you had finished your medical degree and started working as a sports doctor, focusing on athletes. The job was demanding, but it was everything you had ever wanted. And yet, no matter how busy you were, the thought of Jannik lingered at the edges of your thoughts. You had moved on, in a sense, built your life around your goals and your work. But Jannik’s absence, the loss of that connection, still weighed on you.

Then, one day, it happened.

You were working at the clinic, reviewing a new athlete’s file when you heard the familiar voice. At first, you thought you were imagining it. But when you looked up, there he was. Jannik Sinner, standing in the doorway of your office, wearing that familiar smile that sent a warm rush of nostalgia through your veins.

It took a moment for your brain to process it all. He had grown taller, his body more defined, his face sharper. But his eyes, those deep blue eyes, were still the same. They were the same eyes that had watched you grow up, the same eyes that held secrets in them when you were younger, when you were both too scared to admit what you had.

“Jannik?” You blinked, unsure if you were dreaming.

He chuckled, a low, familiar sound. “It’s really you. I wasn’t sure if you’d be here.”

The warmth in his voice made your heart flutter. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed it, missed him, until now. “What are you doing here?” you asked, standing up from behind your desk, suddenly feeling self-conscious in front of him.

“I’m here for a check-up,” he said with a shrug, as though it was no big deal. “You’re working as a doctor for athletes now, no?”

You nodded, trying to steady your breath. “Yeah, I’m actually the team doctor for some of the tennis players now.” You gestured to the seat across from you. “You can take a seat.”

Jannik did, sitting casually across from you, his posture relaxed as always. But even now, you noticed the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes searched your face, like he was trying to figure something out. Something important.

“How’s everything?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but you couldn’t help the flutter in your chest. He was here. After all these years, he was here.

He smiled, and for a second, you swore you saw a flicker of something more than just friendship in his eyes. “It’s good. You look good, too. You’ve really grown up.”

You laughed softly, nervously. “Well, I did go to med school, so... there’s that.”

The conversation shifted easily from there, but beneath the surface, something had changed. You both had changed. Jannik, the young boy who had once been your best friend, had become a man. A man you couldn’t deny you still had feelings for. And as you talked about everything that had happened since you last saw each other, you realized something. Something that had been building for years. This wasn’t just a reunion. This was fate pulling you back together, as if it was always meant to be.

As Jannik stood to leave, he turned to you with a look that was both familiar and new. “It was good seeing you again,” he said, his smile lingering a little longer than necessary. “Maybe... we can catch up more? Off the clock?”

Your heart raced as you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. But you didn’t need to. His smile said everything.

And just like that, everything had changed.

holy shit

this gif is so crazy why did he stop and serve face for a second

https://x.com/thementalfox/status/1921285787229827311?t=_UEcZQDIu8PSjWop0KFUYQ&s=19

just going to leave this here 🤭

Help

No safety. No food. No aid. No water. No healthcare. No education. Is this what it means to live? Is this what world accept as life?

If a group of animals were trapped, starved, and cut off from the world like this, people would be outraged. But because it's us—human beings—somehow, the world looks away.

These are unbearable days. Everything feels heavy. Each hour presses on my chest like I’m being suffocated.

My family needs urgent help.

Basic survival has become nearly impossible. Bread—just bread—now costs over $25 a day to make.

We are not asking for luxury. We are begging for life.

Please, if you’re reading this: help. Reblog this post. Talk about us. Donate if you can. Even a small act can mean everything right now.

#crisis #humanrights #emergency #donate #pleasehelp #tumblrcommunity #survivestories #reblogtohelp #signalboost

Come Back.. Be Here

Jannik Sinner x Reader

You and Jannik had a brief, intense off-season romance. It was never officially labeled, just two people gravitating toward each other in quiet moments, shared coffees, late-night hotel calls, and accidental hand touches. He told you goodbye at 4 a.m. before flying out for the season, right when you were just beginning to fall. Now, he's in New York. You're in London. The time difference stretches like a chasm, and you never realized how much he took with him until you turned around and he wasn’t there anymore.

a/n: hey guys! another fic because i got an idea when i listened to taylor. i might do alot of these, just writing fics when i listen to songs. anyway, hope u like this! here's a fic based on the song come back be here, it is sad so buckle up.

You said it in a simple way.

4:00 a.m. the second day.

How strange that I don't know you at all.

You remember the time exactly. 4:08 a.m.

The soft shuffle of his suitcase wheels against the hotel carpet. The muted zip of his jacket. The dim yellow glow of the hallway light spilling into the room as he stood by the door.

He looked at you with that same calm expression he always wore after matches: neutral, unreadable, but somehow still gentle.

“I’ll text when I land,” he said.

You nodded from the edge of the bed, legs crossed, sweatshirt drowning your frame. You wanted to say something meaningful, something about how those last few weeks had meant more to you than you’d admitted aloud. But your throat was tight, and you didn’t trust your voice.

So you smiled and nodded.

And said, “Don’t forget to stretch on the plane.”

He laughed softly. Then came over. Pressed a kiss to your forehead. One last kiss. And then he was gone.

You didn’t realize it would ache like this.

Stumbled through the long goodbye. Right when I was just about to fall.

You’d told yourself it was just a thing.

Two athletes in the same city for a few weeks. Two people who liked the same quiet cafes. Who stayed up too late watching old match footage on hotel TVs. Who held hands under tables but never talked about what it meant.

You didn’t realize how hard you’d fallen, until the moment he left.

Now, everything you do feels heavy with the absence of him. The mornings feel emptier. The coffee doesn’t taste the same. The Spotify playlist you made together? You can’t even open it. Not yet.

Not when he’s posting selfies in New York.

Not when he’s half a world away and looking fine, golden, laughing, thriving.

While you’re in London, breaking.

And this is when the feeling sinks in. I don't wanna miss you like this. Come back… be here.

You miss him at the oddest moments.

On the walk back from the gym, when your headphones shuffle to a song he showed you.

In the grocery store, when you pass the same flavor of energy bar he always grabbed.

At 2 a.m., when your apartment is quiet and you’re tired of pretending you didn’t care.

You do care.

You miss him like something vital, like oxygen.

And it hurts, because you never told him. And you should've told him to stay, you should've pulled him back to the hotel bed and begged for him to stay.

The delicate beginning rush. The feeling you can know so much Without knowing anything at all.

You knew how he took his espresso; no sugar, a little foam.

You knew the exact breath he took before his serve.

You knew he hated flying and always triple-checked his passport.

But you didn’t know his middle name.

Or who he called after winning a big match.

Or whether he wanted you to ask him to stay.

You knew enough to miss him. And not enough to hold onto him.

If I had known what I know now… I never would've played so nonchalant.

You’d told yourself to stay cool. Not to get attached.

You didn’t want to be the girl who caught feelings first.

But now, you wish you’d said something. Anything.

You wish you’d kissed him harder.

You wish you’d whispered “Don’t go.”

You wish you'd done something to make him stay.

Taxi cabs and busy streets, That never bring you back to me.

It’s been three weeks.

You’re in London. He’s in New York. Then Miami. Then somewhere in between.

You see clips of him doing press, hear the way fans chant his name.

You wonder if he ever scrolls back through your texts. If he watches that video of you two at the charity gala, the one where you’re laughing, leaning into him, like there’s no world outside the frame.

You wonder if he’s still wearing the bracelet you left behind. The navy one. The one he called your lucky charm.

You wonder if he thinks of you at all. You wonder if he misses you like you miss him, in the most grueling way.

This is falling in love in the cruelest way. This is falling for you when you are worlds away.

You go about your life. You train. You stretch. You smile for cameras.

But at night, it’s different. At night, you stop pretending.

You stare at your ceiling and whisper his name like a secret, like a prayer, like an oath.

You’re not sure why you do it.

You open your phone. Scroll up to your last message with a frown, a meme you sent him the night before he left. He replied with a laughing emoji and a "you’re ridiculous."

You type.

“New York doesn’t suit you.”

You pause. Your thumb hovers just above the send button.

Then, a second message:

“Come back.”

You hit send.

You turn off your phone.

You sleep.

And you dream of him standing in that hallway again. Except this time, he doesn’t leave.

And when it happens, you're ready to make him stay.