Being A Girl Includes Staying Up Till 3AM Bc It’s Already Past Your Bedtime To Read More “x Readers”

being a girl includes staying up till 3AM bc it’s already past your bedtime to read more “x readers” because you know you’re going to miss your alarm anyway.

In your orbit

Jannik Sinner x Model!Reader

Synopsis: Reader sets her eyes on someone. A certain red-head, tall athlete. She's only ever seen him in the ads, on TV. But tonight, reader is set to put him in her orbit.

a/n: helloo!! 1/3 of fics finished today! i had an amazing match, and i also didn't expect to advance through another round so updates may be a bit delayed :( but i write every time i get free time (if i'm not tired), so yeah! hope u enjoy this little blurb i have. i really tried my best, hope this isn't too cringe or clichè. as always, comments and asks are greatly appreciated! i love reading your feedbacks, don't be afraid to request! ♡

You step out of the car with the kind of practiced ease that comes from years on runways and in front of flashing lights. Silk clings to your hips like it was made for you. And it was. Archival Gucci, deep emerald, low at the back, dangerous at the slit. Your heels click against the rooftop tiles like punctuation marks. Eyes follow you. They always do, you learn to adapt to it quickly.

But you’re only looking for one. And you find him.

Jannik Sinner, parked near the edge of the bar like he doesn’t quite belong. Fingers curled around a glass, jacket unbuttoned, hair still slightly damp like he ran his hands through it just before stepping in. He’s speaking with someone. Doesn’t matter who, but his eyes cut sideways when you walk in.

Bam. Bullseye.

He watches you the way you’ve seen men stare at cars they can’t afford. Like touching would be a luxury. You smile like you don’t see it, but you do. You always do.

You wait until he’s done glancing, then head straight for him. No detours. No small talk.

“You’re taller in person,” you say when you stop beside him, tone light, amused, like you’re commenting on the weather. “Not that I’m surprised.” You say casually, a smile adorning your lips.

His brows lift just a little, a smirk twitching up to the side of his lips. “You knew who I was?”

“I’d have to be blind not to,” you reply smoothly. “You’re everywhere. Ads, matches, press. And on my Instagram explore page every time you so much as breathe.”

That gets a soft laugh out of him, quick and low. One that makes you bite your lip, but you conceal it with a smile. He looks down for a second, a little shy, brushing his hand along the back of his neck like he’s trying to hide the smile.

“Do you always open with flattery?” he asks, glancing back up, voice dipped in that unmistakable South Tyrolean lilt.

You shrug, eyes flicking to his collarbone peeking beneath the shirt. “Only when it’s true.”

There’s a beat where you don’t say anything. You just look at him. Let him feel the weight of your attention. It’s intentional. You know exactly what you’re doing.

“I follow you,” you add, sipping your drink. “On Instagram. Not, like, in a creepy way.”

He tilts his head slightly, watching you with narrowed eyes, amused. “No?”

“No,” you smile, leaning in, letting your perfume fill the space between you. “Though if I were going to stalk someone, I’d probably pick you.”

His ears flush pink.

It’s subtle, but you catch it. You always catch the small things, the way he shifts his stance, how he glances at the guys across the room, the way his thumb drags across the condensation on his glass like he needs something to do with his hands.

“I saw you earlier,” he murmurs. “Before you saw me. All the guys looking at you…”

You raise a brow, amused. “Jealous, Sinner?”

He hesitates. Just long enough.

You smirk. “It’s alright. I get it. I’d be jealous too.”

His expression flickers, like he wants to say something in Italian but bites it back.

You step in a little closer, like it’s natural, like you’re just adjusting your clutch, but your shoulder brushes his chest.

And he stiffens slightly.

“I saw your Rome match last month,” you say, casually now, eyes still on his. “You play like you’re chasing something.”

“I am,” he says, too quickly.

You blink, surprised at the sharpness, tilting your head. “Oh?”

“I play better when I want something.”

“Like?”

He looks down at you, quiet, his gaze dragging slow. “Like now.”

Oh.

You chuckle, amused and smirking. You let the small silence settle before pulling your phone from your bag, licking your lips. Tap. Unlock. Hold it out.

He blinks, raising his brows in surprise. "Oh? What is this?"

“Put your number in.” You tap the phone casually, not breaking eye contact.

He stares for a second.

“C’mon,” you add. “I already follow you. Might as well make it official.” You smirk, tilting your head. You know exactly what you were doing, and it was working. Mamma Mia, it was making Jannik go feral.

His fingers skim yours as he takes it with an amused smirk. His skin’s warm, calloused but gentle hands, knuckles slightly pink from the drink. When he hands it back, your name is already saved on his phone.

You peek, another smirk plastered on your soft lips.

“You added a heart?” You quirk a brow.

“Accidentally,” he says, completely lying. His accent thickens for a second. Accidentally. Cute.

You laugh and shake your head, shameless. “Right.”

You send him a text before you even step back.

His phone buzzes.

When he reads it 'don’t be shy tonight, golden boy.' you watch his throat work as he swallows.

You turn to leave, giving him one last look over your shoulder. An innocent smile.

“Nice meeting you, Jannik.”

He’s still standing there when you disappear back into the crowd.

Orbiting.

Just like you planned.