Hi!! I Would Like To Request A Kenan × Jealous Reader. The Story Can Be However You Like With Whatever

I could get over anything as long as I have something new to be obsessed with

here to say i'm happy with the result. lewis deserved that win so much. max drove so fucking well. so deserved. formula one is back

🎀 | soft launch or..? • ky10

part 2

( pairing ) kenan yildiz x reader

liked by bsf11, lorenzo_zurzolo and others

ynusername - lunchin

bsf - not just my girl anymore 😞

user2 - literally flawless

❤️ by author

user2 - kenan not in the likes or comments

user1 - are we just gonna ignore the MAN in the second slide?

| user12 - right like let’s talk about that!

user86 - my wife with a man i’m sick to my stomach

user19 - lorenzo liked 👀

| user3 - it’s definitely him

liked by ynusername, ardaguler and others

kenanyildiz_official

user13 - bro switched back to the field he’s good at

user10 - fumble of the century

user33 - GUYS YN IN THE LIKES?

| user4 - RIGHT

ynusername - looks boring 😴

| kenanyildiz_official - good company makes it entertaining 😅

user9 - the comments??? did bro actually get the girl

ardaguler - 😏

| user5 - WHAT DO YOU KNOW

liked by ynusername, bsf11 and others

kenanyildiz_official - my date 😊

ynusername - 🤍

❤️ by author

user12 - KENAN KENAN YILDIZZ

user92 - the way she’s looking at him and not the camera 🥹

user12 - god i’ve seen what you’ve done for others

ardaguler - congrats 🎉

| user139 - 😭😭

liked by kenanyildiz_official, bsf11 and others

ynusername- he solved world hunger apparently 🤷‍♀️

kenanyildiz_official - 😅

kenanyildiz_official - whatever i’m still your date

| ynusername - hehe love u 💗

user13 - mama y papa

user9 - yall need a third? i can bark

| user2 - sit back down 💀

idk what i’m doing honestly

—𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙠𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩

lando norris x oc

warnings- angst, heartbreak, cheating.

Formula One Drivers are fast. Formula One Drivers go all in. Love was no exception. Much like his profession, Lando’s loving was fast.

He fell in love fast, and hard.

Madeline Sommers had been the one to make the drivers heart race. According to him, She was perfect, an angel. When in truth, she was just naive.

She had been an ordinary girl, just a fan, another nameless person, another forgotten face amongst the crowd of people who adored him.

Until she wasn’t.

Maybe it was her fault, enamored by his glamorous life and love. He had showered her with so much love, made her feel so special.

Everyday he brought her flowers in abundance, leaving behind an avalanche of expensive gifts, and consuming her wholly.

He took her out on dates to the fanciest of restaurants, long walks on the beach, stargazing on the rooftop, basking in the glow of the moon.

She was naive to believe that it would last, all of it was too good to be true. When her own best friend captivated him after six months of dating.

How hadn't she noticed. Her best-friend who had labelled Lando's sport as useless and dreadfully boring, complaining about the cars just going around in circles, suddenly couldn’t be more obsessed with the sport, begging to tag along, to join her at every race.

She should’ve known.

When his eyes no longer glittered with adoration, instead he stared at her own best-friend. Inside jokes, hidden meanings, longing stares.

When she had asked him, where he’d been, why he’d left her alone in the hotel room, and why he was so distant.

She should've known, that he was only next door, with her best friend. She should've known, when she became the third wheel, the outsider in her own relationship.

Formula one drivers fell fast and hard, and left behind a dust of heartbreak, falling out of love just as quick, breaking hearts just as hard.

— i’m going through a breakup and i needed to vent lol it’s not that great but i tried lol

I unironically want the old Victoria Secret Fashion Show back and I’m not even going to hide behind “it’s a joke”. Bring back the women who look unattainably beautiful so I can be in awe and totally jealous for an hour. I don’t need to see people who “look like me” on a runway we got people like me at home I’m here for a good time

Maybe something were reader and arda are in a relationship for some years now. (Insta post)

WEST SIDE • ARDA GÜLER

( pairing ) arda güler x reader

just a soft launching thru insta story

liked by ynusername, altaybayindir and others

arda güler - bring the life right back

comments

user96 - caption??

↪️ user7 - caption girl look at the second slide??

altaybayindir - arkadaşım

🤍 by author

ftblwags - 👀

user23 - ARDA GÜLER???

user35 - hell naw bros soft launching

liked by ardaguler, friend1 and others

ynusername - meet me on the west side 🤍

comments

friend1 - this is where you disappeared to and with a MAN

↪️ ynusername - hehe 🤭

friend2 - HELLO WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN???

↪️ ynusername - oops

friend3 - umm what? gc now.

↪️ ynusername - yes maam 🫡

user25 - familiar background…

ynusername posted a story!

seen by 23k viewers

❤️ by arda guler

replies

ardaguler

sevgilim 🤍

friend1

when will we get to meet this mystery man 🤨

liked by toniruediger, ynusername and others

ardaguler - bring the light right back

comments

user13 - ok bro we get it you got a girl

user1 - boyfriend arda is my fav gender

ismailyuksekk - Maşallah Abi

❤️ by author

ftblwags - 🤔

friend1 - hmm @ynusername

user9 - girlfriend effect bro’s posting ariana grande lyrics

user6 - last slide 😳

liked by ardaguler, friend1 and others

ynusername - 🧸🤍

comments

friend1 - tennis huh?

↪️ ynusername - 🙈

user12 - wait…

friend2 - girl where did you find this piece i want one too

❤️ by author

friend3 - cutie 🥹

friend23 - imy yn 💖💖

❤️ by author

ynusername posted a story!

seen by 120k viewers

❤️ by ardaguler

replies

friend1 - enough of this man come how now ☹️

user12 - GIRL IS THAT ARDA???

liked by ynusername, friend1 and others

ardaguler - meet me on the west side

comments

user12 - THE FIRST PIC IS ON YNS STORY

↪️ user13 - who’s yn???

↪️ user12 - @ynusername arda’s girlfriend..?

user96 - omg the caption matches one of her posts

↪️ user7 - girl you always focused on the wrong things he’s literally posted the photo she took 😭

user10 - the one post where he’s not posting his gf is the one that exposes him 😭

ftblwags - 👀

↪️ user75 - girl go get a job

liked by user5, ardaguler and others

ynusername - let me be in your life like that

@ardaguler

comments

ardaguler - the only for sure, aşkim 🤍

↪️ ynusername - 😚😚

friend1 - congratulations!! dunno how you hid it for yrs and one holiday trip exposed u

user7 - the way some of their captions match 🥹

↪️ user96 - who’s looking at captions now???

user13 - god i’ve seen what you’ve done for others

user13 - if you look closely you’ll see me in the back drowning in my own tears

user94 - parents

user195 - how long have yall been tgth ???

↪️ ynusername - 3 years 🥰

ardaguler posted a story!

fin.

"What we are seeing is the talent of the century"

Max Verstappen, 50 Grand Prix wins

Hi I saw you’re Arda angst ff and I fucking loved it!! I wanted to request a Kenan Yildiz angst fanfic where the reader and Kenan had to get arrange married. But he hated her. He always brought other woman home and she really got sad because she never had the chance to experience real love. Not even from her parents.

He always kept her hidden from social media because he was embarrassed of her. She always went alone and done things alone. The reader is a quite person she an introvert she doesn’t really talk that much or express feelings so she always stays quiet. And she had a really bad childhood, got be@ten up and ignored. She never had a normal childhood. By the time Kenan never knew he starts to see her alone at restaurant or pic nics alone and started to feel guilty but never brought it up.

So one day the reader thought she’s alone at home and Kenan told her that he’ll be away.

So she wanted to sleep without a shirt. And that night Kenan appears there because the game got cancelled and when he approached her he saw her scars on her back that were caused by her parents. He starts to regret treating you like that and starts treating you better and spends time with you.

You can make a fluff or bad ending doesn’t really matter but I always prefer bad endings hehe I would really love for you to make this a story !!

💓💓💓

SAD GIRL • KENAN YILDIZ

( pairing ) kenan yıldız x reader

warnings - trigger warning, violence and abuse, a lot of angst. I tried my best and i hope this meets your expectations 💞

In your eyes, the marriage had been perhaps the best thing to have ever happened to you. It provided you with the opportunity to escape the clutches of your dysfunctional family, and finally find some semblance of normalcy in your life.

Knowing that it had been Kenan had made you feel exhilarated, a feeling that you weren’t quite used to.

Kenan had been reputable for being a rather charismatic gentleman, and his polite, sweet demeanour had been all the talk on your wedding day. You hadn’t met him yet, but the idea of him had made you fall in love.

You couldn’t be blamed, because to you this concept of genuity was so foreign to you, that daydreaming about it had made you feel as if you were on cloud nine.

That was until you truly got to know Kenan behind closed doors. Except you never truly got to know him.

Unlike you, Kenan found this marriage an unappealing burden that had chained him down to a person he could not care less for.

He was incredibly indifferent to your presence, and continued on about as if your marriage had never happened. After the ceremony had occurred and you’d been driven off to a fancy villa, Kenan had behaved as if you didn’t exist.

He never acknowledged your presence until absolutely necessary, and it felt as if you were a ghost living inside this empty house, begging, yearning to be noticed, but never spared a single glance.

For you this marriage had ignited a flicker of hope, of learning to love, and for building a meaningful relationship, a turnabout from the life your parents had imposed on you. You hadn’t imagined anything would hurt more than the scathing words and harsh treatment that they had inflicted upon you, until you were faced with the brutal rejection from Kenan. Atleast, at your parents house, you were never ignored, but with Kenan, you didn’t feel like a person, you felt like a soul in purgatory, suffering endlessly and without anyone to turn to.

This marriage with Kenan broke you in ways that you hadn’t thought possible. How could a rejection from the man you had been promised to have hurt so agonisingly when you didn’t even truly know him?

You couldn’t explain the stark difference in his behaviour from what you’d heard to what you’d experienced, and thus, the only person you had to blame was yourself.

Some nights, when the house is quiet and Kenan’s side of the bed is cold and empty, you lie awake and wonder what it is about you that makes you so unlovable. It’s a question that haunts you, clawing at the edges of your mind until it’s the only thing you can hear. You think back to your childhood, to the years spent trying and failing to earn your parents' love. You tried to be good, to be perfect, to be everything they wanted, but nothing was ever enough. Every cruel word, every slap, every moment of their disdain etched itself into your soul, carving out the belief that you were broken, unworthy, fundamentally flawed. You remember having gone through lengths, making sure you were academically on top, and when that wasn’t enough, pushing yourself towards sports to prove that you were capable, but despite these achievements, your parents refused to acknowledge any of it. You remember once, sitting at the edge of your room, if the tiny space could even be called that, your cheeks red from the stinging slaps and your arms littered with bruises, and not a single tear in your eyes. You felt hollow, the one question rotating over in your head, again and again and again.

“What is wrong with me?”

Your marriage with Kenan has only made this thought return full force, from when it just lingered to the back of your mind, to now always on the forefront of your thoughts, on the tip of your tongue, as if any moment you’d ask the question, say it out loud, but no matter.

Kenan never hears you anyway.

You sit in the spacious lounge of this house, Kenan is home, but you are alone. He’s with someone, another girl who doesn’t share the misfortune as you do, who’s laugh echoes around the house and to you, feels like nails on a chalkboard, pinching at your ears and leaving the heart you have in your chest aching worse as the clock ticks by.

Once again, you sit there and contemplate for perhaps the umpteenth time, the same question that oppresses you.

You see the same disappointment in Kenan’s eyes, the same coldness, the same quiet contempt that tells you what you’ve always feared, there’s something wrong with you. You’ve begun to believe it must be true because why else would Kenan treat you this way? Why else would he refuse to look at you, to touch you, to acknowledge that you’re anything more than an inconvenience he’s forced to endure? Why else would he parade other women in front of you, each of them more beautiful, more captivating, more everything than you’ll ever be?

The more Kenan pulls away, the deeper you sink into yourself, convinced that his indifference is a reflection of your worth. You’ve searched for answers in every mirror, scrutinizing your face, your body, every part of yourself that feels inadequate. You pick apart every flaw, every imperfection, as if solving the puzzle of your own ugliness might finally explain why you are so impossible to love. You try to change, to smile more, to be kinder, quieter, less of whatever it is that pushes people away. But no matter how much you give, no matter how much of yourself you twist and bend and break to fit into the shape of someone deserving, it’s never enough.

The rejection feels like a knife to the heart, twisting deeper each time Kenan walks past you as if you’re nothing. You wonder what it would feel like to be touched by him in kindness, to have him hold you like you mattered, just once. You’ve replayed it in your mind a thousand times, trying to imagine the warmth of his hand in yours, the weight of his arm around your shoulders, the sound of your name spoken with something other than disdain. But that warmth never comes. All you get is the chill of his absence, the searing pain of knowing that you are invisible, unwanted, unloved, and that’s all that you’ll ever be.

Despite all this endless questioning, you never get any closer to understanding why you’re in this predicament.

It hurts, like you’re drowning in a sea of sorrow, and every breath is a struggle against the relentless waves of the ruthless ocean. It’s the taste of salt on your lips—the bitter residue of tears that never seem to end—and the weight in your chest that sits like a stone, heavy and immovable, pressing down with a quiet, unyielding ache.

You have long since given up on hope, that maybe one day it will get better, the pain will decrease, but it never does.

Today, you don’t stay inside, the chattering of the girl twists a little deeper into your poor heart than usual, and you decide to step out.

You somehow make it to a cafe and settle down, in a spot. You’re so attuned to the feeling of loneliness that it doesn’t bother you as people glance at you, some with curiosity and most with pity, preoccupied with your heartache.

You realise just how pathetic, pitiful you must appear. Your face permanently stained with tear marks and eyes so red, your figure frail from negligence on everyone you’ve known, including yourself.

You don’t realise however, that it is enough to warrant headlines.

The next morning you’re going viral on the internet,

“Kenan Yildiz’s wife spotted, lonely and sombre. What could be the cause?”

You can’t help yourself as you look through the comments.

“lol how do we even know if she’s his wife, we’ve never seen a single photo of them together”

“oh please, she’s probably a lying attention seeking white trying to get Kenan’s attention, bet she’s never met the guy. Yawn.”

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Kenan is not married what in the fake news”

You’re not surprised by it, but still it stings. You knew Kenan never made it known that he had been married, the night of your wedding day had become news to the world, but it had been buried away by Kenan’s refusal to acknowledge it.

It wasn’t as if you ever accompanied Kenan anywhere either, you went out alone, he never invited you to his games or any award ceremonies, he ignored you just as much on the outside as he did at home.

The only people who actually acknowledge this news are your parents, they come knocking on your door while Kenan is out, not at all pleased by your act that had so perfectly tarnished their reputation, and then the very night they make it very abundantly clear to you just how much displeasure you bring to them.

The pain is sharp and jagged, like shards of glass lodged deep inside, cutting with every thought, and every word your mother hisses at you, and every hit your father directs at you tears you down further.

When they leave, you’re all by yourself on the floor, like broken china that no one cares about or ever will bother picking up.

That night you cry yourself to sleep, so incredibly tired, and you think to yourself about how much of an abomination you are, if only you didn’t ever exist at all.

You’re mentally exhausted to the point that you fall asleep right there on the floor in your mess. And for the first time, Kenan takes notice of you.

He has always been aware of your presence, but had blatantly rejected it, even though guilt had begun to seep into this facade of pretending that he was indifferent to you.

He had noticed how you were always alone, no friends to tag along with when you went out to a restaurant, and barely anyone to talk to. He noticed how you tried your very hardest to make yourself as small as you could in the home that was supposed to be both his and yours. You never spared any expense on yourself from his money, to the point that all the groceries in the house went untouched by you, never eating the food that was there, as if you felt unworthy of sharing the same stuff he did.

His conscience had fought with him a lot, but then his pertinacity had won out.

Kenan comes home late that night, the weight of his usual indifference wrapped around him like a heavy coat. The house is quiet, too quiet, but it doesn’t feel unfamiliar, because that is how you are, yet as he steps inside, he feels a strange sense of unease. The lights are dim, casting long, flickering shadows across the walls, and for a moment, he almost calls out for you, but stops himself—old habits of pride and detachment still holding him back. As he walks through the hallway, his footsteps echo softly on the wooden floor, and that’s when he sees you, crumpled in the corner, lying there as if the world itself had thrown you away.

He freezes, staring at the scene that steals the breath from his lungs. You’re curled up on the cold, hard floor, your fragile frame barely shielded by the thin shadow that frames you. The soft glow of the lamplight reveals a tapestry of dark, angry bruises spreading across your arms and face, fresh and vicious, like cruel brushstrokes on pale canvas. Your cheeks are stained with dried tears, and your breaths come in shallow, ragged bursts, as if each inhale is a battle against the pain you carry. The sight of you, so small, so vulnerable, hits him like a punch to the gut, and for the first time in a long time, something shifts in him.

Guilt seeps in, thick and suffocating, wrapping around his heart like a vice. He kneels beside you, his hands trembling as he reaches out, hesitant and unsure. He touches your shoulder, lightly at first, afraid of causing you more pain, and when you stir, blinking up at him through swollen eyes, he feels the weight of his neglect crash down on him. He’s been blind to your suffering, wrapped up in his own resentments, his own desires, never once considering the cost of his actions—or inactions—on the person he promised to protect, however unwillingly.

Your own eyes widen a little, surprised at seeing him so close to you, for the first time since your wedding, and you aim to move away, but an egregious amount of pain has you stopping, and you try to keep the groan from escaping out your mouth.

"Who did this to you?" His voice is low, and there’s a vulnerability there, breaking, a far cry from the coldness you’ve grown accustomed to. You don’t answer, still in shock from seeing him so close. That is when you notice the freckles of golden in his green eyes, or perhaps you have a concussion that’s making you see things.

Kenan’s eyes run over your body, the bruises tell a story he can’t ignore, and for the first time, he sees you—not as the burden he’s resented, but as someone who’s been hurt far too many times, someone he’s failed in the worst possible way.

Kenan helps you up, his touch gentler than it has ever been. He wraps his arms around you, careful not to press against your bruises, and for the first time, you feel his warmth—real, unguarded, like he’s trying to shield you from the world that’s been so unkind. He guides you to the bedroom, the one he’s kept so meticulously separate from you, and tucks you into the bed as if you’re something precious. He sits beside you that night, eyes never leaving your face, and vows silently to himself that he will be different, that he will be better. For you, it all feels as if you’re on an alien planet, an alternative reality where everything feels so foreign, unaccustomed to having anyone, not just Kenan, actually look at you beyond the same gaze of disdain that you’ve known your whole life.

In the days that follow, Kenan is not the man you remember. He wakes early to make you breakfast, though he’s clumsy in the kitchen, burning toast and fumbling with the coffee machine. You watch him from the table, wrapped in a blanket, still wary, but there’s something different in his eyes—softer, almost pleading. He sits with you as you eat, quiet but present, as if his mere company might patch over the wounds he’s spent so long ignoring.

He starts to notice the little things—the way you flinch when someone speaks too loudly, the way you keep your head down as if expecting another blow. He learns how sometimes you don’t answer, assuming that he isn’t speaking to you, and it fills him with regret. He learns to be gentle, careful with his words, speaking to you with a softness that feels foreign on his tongue. He doesn’t bring anyone home anymore; the house is yours, a sanctuary he’s determined to protect. Slowly, he starts to open up, telling you about his own struggles, his own fears, the reasons he’s built walls so high around his heart. It’s not an excuse, but it’s a start, and you find yourself listening, inching closer with each shared truth.

Kenan begins to take you out on walks in the park, away from the stifling walls of the house that holds too many memories. He holds your hand, tentatively at first, but when you don’t pull away, he squeezes a little tighter, as if to say he’s here now, and he’s not going anywhere. He surprises you with small gestures—your favorite flowers on the table, a book you mentioned once, a soft touch on your shoulder when you seem lost in thought. It’s awkward and unsure, but it’s real, and each day, the distance between you shrinks just a little more.

One evening, as the sun sets and paints the room in hues of gold, Kenan sits beside you on the couch, holding your hand. He’s nervous, you can tell, but his eyes are earnest. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice cracking under the weight of everything he’s kept buried. “For all of it. For not seeing you, for not being what you needed. I know I’ve hurt you, and I can’t take that back, but I want to try. I want to be better—for you.”

For a moment, you say nothing, the words catching in your throat. But when you look at him, really look at him, you see someone trying, someone who’s finally willing to let you in. You nod, squeezing his hand back, and though the road ahead is uncertain, for the first time, it feels like it’s yours to walk together.

fin

right that was so weird 😬😬

The commentator going "And it was a clear overtake this time." about Max's start is sickening. Dude, at least pretend you're somewhat professional.

forza juve 🤍🖤