Latest Posts by verspia - Page 2

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.

noo guys my arda fic got deleted ☹️☹️

any arda requests? i want to write for him he’s so underrated 😔

Heellooo

I request where kenan and yn is dating and have for 2-3 months but keeping it secretly, cuz of his career, and kenan and his friend cubanito doing a livestream, and kenan gets spammed if he’s seeing someone, but he tries to keep it private and try to dodge the questions, cuz its rumored he’s dating someone that is not YN that the people suspect, but he is seeing YN, and his friend try to confirm he’s not seeing that girl, but kinda seeing someone else? which is YN

❤️

THEY DONT KNOW ABOUT US • KENAN YILDIZ

( pairing ) kenan yıldız x reader

i love this so much i rlly hope i’ve written it to your liking

ps i used karlotta as the rumoured girl

liked by karlottafan and others

footballwags - kenan yildiz in the likes of this model 👀 is she his new beau?

comments

user86 - who uses the word beau 💀

karlottafann - they’d look so cute together 🥹

user86 - those posts are from ages ago tho?

user09 - another one bites the dust

user97 - footballers and models what’s new 🥱

user98 - someone confirm this asap

user02 - he def slid into her dms

user037 - dating for sure

The apartment feels quiet without him, the kind of quiet that settles deep, filling every corner with the absence of his laughter, his low voice, the warmth of his presence. You’re curled up on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through the endless stream of notifications that come with dating someone like Kenan. It’s been three months now—long enough that you know the feel of his hand on the small of your back, the way his thumb traces idle patterns against your skin when you’re watching movies, the little half-smile he gives when he thinks you’re not looking. But still early enough that everything feels new, each touch a rush, each shared glance a secret you’re both savouring.

It’s also long enough that the rumours have started, circling like vultures around your little bubble of privacy. You both agreed from the start to keep things quiet, at least for now. His career is always in the spotlight, scrutinised by fans, tabloids, and everyone with an opinion. And then there’s you—part of his world but never quite fitting into the neat little narratives they want to create. So you’ve kept it hidden, the two of you slipping through back doors, stolen moments in between his rehearsals and public appearances, and late-night drives through empty streets where the rest of the world doesn’t matter.

Tonight, he’s across town, sitting in Cubanito’s sleek, minimalist living room, the kind of place that’s made for being on camera. You know this because you’ve been there—laughing, sprawled out on the couch with Kenan’s arm around your shoulders, out of view of the lens. It’s where they do their live-streams, just the two of them bantering about everything and nothing, their easy chemistry drawing thousands of viewers every time they go live. You usually like to watch, listening to the sound of Kenan’s voice through your phone, letting it fill the space when he’s not with you.

You open the app and the live stream is already buzzing with activity, the chat scrolling faster than you can read. Kenan is sitting on the left, relaxed in his usual way, hoodie pulled up just enough to shadow his eyes but not hide that familiar, lopsided grin. Cubanito is beside him, gesturing wildly as he talks, always the louder, more animated of the two, but Kenan’s calm presence keeps everything grounded.

You watch them for a while, smiling at the banter, the way Kenan leans back, completely at ease, laughing at something Cubanito says. But then the comments start shifting, and you notice the questions piling up, flashing bright and insistent:

*Who’s Kenan dating? Is it true about him and that model?*

*Kenan, are you seeing someone? Don’t dodge the question!*

*Kenan, blink twice if you’re with her!*

You feel your heart clench, fingers tightening around your phone. The rumours have been everywhere—screenshots of kenan in her likes, whispers and speculation that he’s dating her, even though you know better. But Kenan’s been careful, dodging the questions whenever they come up, brushing them off with a laugh or a change of subject. Tonight, though, it seems like they won’t let it go.

Cubanito squints at the screen, reading the chat aloud in his usual dramatic fashion, but this time there’s an edge to his voice, a hint of mischief that tells you he’s about to stir the pot. “Yo, Kenan, they’re really going off tonight. Everyone wants to know who you’re seeing, man. Spill the tea!”

Kenan chuckles, but you can tell from the way he shifts in his seat that he’s uncomfortable, his smile tightening just a little. “Nah, it’s nothing like that,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. “People just love to talk, you know how it is.”

Cubanito isn’t having it, though. He leans closer, elbows on his knees, eyes bright with the thrill of teasing his friend. “Come on, Kenan. Everyone thinks it’s that girl—what’s her name? The model? But I don’t know, man. Doesn’t seem like your type.”

Kenan’s smile falters just a fraction, a tiny crack in his usual composure. You know he’s trying to figure out how to handle this, how to keep your secret safe without feeding the rumours. He glances at the chat, then back at Cubanito, his expression caught between exasperation and amusement. “Nah, it’s not like that,” he says again, firmer this time. “I’m not seeing her.”

Cubanito leans back, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “Okay, okay, you’re not seeing her. But you’re definitely seeing *someone*, huh? Come on, man. We’re all friends here.” There’s a playful edge to his voice, but also a knowing look—a hint that maybe he’s aware of more than he’s letting on.

Kenan shoots him a warning glance, but it’s softened by the faint smile tugging at his lips, the kind that always makes your heart skip a beat. He runs a hand through his hair, and for a moment, he looks right at the camera, right at you, like he’s letting you in on the joke. “Let’s just say… I’m happy,” he finally says, his voice low, almost lost beneath the noise of the livestream. “And that’s all that matters, right?”

The chat explodes, filled with questions and speculation, but Kenan doesn’t pay it any mind. He turns back to Cubanito, deflecting with a joke, steering the conversation back to safer ground, but there’s something in the way his gaze lingers on the screen—a quick, barely-there look that makes your chest tighten. It’s a look meant for you, and you alone, a silent reassurance that no matter what the world thinks, he’s yours.

You feel a rush of warmth, a quiet, private kind of joy that’s just for the two of you. It’s not easy, keeping things quiet, pretending in public that you’re not together when every time you’re alone, he’s the one who makes you feel seen in a way no one else ever has. But moments like this, where he slips you into his world without anyone else noticing, make it all worth it. The stolen kisses, the late-night texts, the whispered promises when no one else is around—it’s messy, and it’s complicated, but it’s yours, and it’s enough.

liked by ynusername, cubanito_official and others

kenanyildiz_official - mein einziger 🤍

comments

cubanito_official - nice 🔥

tarik.muharemovic - little lady is cool 😎

↪️ kenanfan - his friends have met her 🥹

user13 - bro really soft launched blondie to say that model ain’t his girl

user97 - he unfollowed the model 💀💀

user02 - ok but i need to know who she is and ask ab her hair care routine

user09 - couple of the year

fin.

Loveeeeee the last kenan fic❤️❤️❤️

i’m glad 💞

hii, i really liked your last work that was inspired by a song, so i was wondering if you could write smth thats inspired by “one of the girls” from the weeknd?💘

ONE OF THE GIRLS • KENAN YILDIZ

( pairing ) kenan yıldız x reader

thank you for this request i didn’t see it so im sorry it took so long 🥲

18+ mdni (i tried but it’s barely anything)

The city buzzes like a living thing outside, neon lights flickering in the distance as the bass-heavy music spills from every corner of the streets. It’s one of those nights where the air feels thick with the promise of something more—something just out of reach. Something in the air makes you feel restless tonight, charged with the kind of energy that hums beneath your skin and makes every light seem brighter, every shadow deeper. It’s one of those evenings that feels suspended in time, where the air is thick with anticipation and everything seems poised on the edge of something you can’t quite name. You find yourself in a dimly lit lounge downtown, a place where the music pulses softly against the walls and the conversations are low, like secrets whispered in the dark. It’s the perfect place to get lost, to disappear into the rhythm of the night and let the noise drown out whatever’s been weighing on your mind. The Weeknd’s voice hums softly over the speakers, the lyrics to “One of the Girls” cutting through the noise, dripping with seduction and blurred intentions.

That’s when your eyes land on him, Kenan. He stands at the far end of the bar, leaning casually against the counter with a half-empty glass of redbull in his hand, no alcohol. There’s something magnetic about him, something in the way he carries himself with a quiet confidence that seems to draw every gaze in the room. He’s tall, dressed in a sleek black shirt that clings to his frame, something he wouldn’t normally wear. Special occasion, you think to yourself as you observe sharp features set in an expression that hovers between amusement and something darker. Kenan’s presence has always been commanding, forcing everyone’s attention towards him, and the way he’s dressed makes it all the more obvious, his presence understated but impossible to ignore.

But, he’s not alone. There’s a girl with him, one of those effortlessly beautiful types who looks like she belongs in every magazine you’ve ever seen. She’s laughing, you can tell from the way her head tilts back, and she’s leaning into him, fingers grazing his arm in a way that’s too familiar, too easy. You watch the way he tilts his head down to listen to her, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips, and something tightens in your chest. It’s not jealousy—not exactly. But there’s a sting there, something sharp and aching, like watching a scene you’re not meant to be a part of. The feeling is something you’ve become all too familiar with, watching it happen too often, although the setting is usually starkly different from this one.

You try to shake it off, turning your attention back to the party, but the image of them lingers in the back of your mind, like a song you can’t quite get out of your head. You throw yourself on the stage, dancing around with a bunch of nameless bodies, yet you catch glimpses of them throughout the night, little flashes of Kenan’s dark eyes and her bright smile, and each time, you feel that same flicker of something you can’t quite name. You know this feeling—this mix of wanting and frustration, of being close but never close enough. It’s a game you’ve played before, a dance you know all too well, and still, you can’t seem to stop yourself from playing along. You can’t help it. His confidence is unwavering as he stands and you catch his eye. For a moment, it’s as if the whole room fades away, leaving just the two of you in a charged silence that says more than any words could. You can’t quite figure out what it is about him, but his demeanour has a gravitational pull to it that you always find yourself victim to.

The moment is over as quickly as it happened. His attention is back to the girl he’s been wrapped around and you turn back to the crowd you’re in.

Eventually, you find yourself near the edge of the rooftop, feet aching from the dancing you’d done in an attempt to forget, when Kenan approaches. He’s alone now, the girl nowhere in sight, and he leans against the railing beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching between you, filled only by the distant sounds of the city and the faint thrum of music. Then he looks over at you, you meet his gaze head on, catching his green eyes that sparkle under the moonlight with something golden dazzling amongst them.

A beat passes, you don’t look away, and neither does he. There’s a boldness in his stare, a challenge that you can’t quite ignore. He doesn’t smile, not exactly, but there’s a flicker of interest in his green eyes that passes across his face—a slight tilt of his head, a subtle arch of his brow that feels like an invitation. There’s something charged in the way he watches you, a subtle tension that sets your nerves alight. It’s not flirtation, it’s something deeper, something that makes your pulse quicken despite yourself. You can feel the pull of it, the way his gaze settles on you like a weight, and you find yourself moving toward him without really thinking about it, drawn in by some invisible thread that winds tighter with every step. The way his gaze sweeps over you, as if he knows everything you’re hiding, knows everything about you.

“This isn’t your usual type of thing,” he says, his voice low, almost drowned out by the music. It’s not a question, it’s a statement, and there’s something about the way he says it that feels like he’s already drawn his own conclusions.

“What gave it away?” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady, but there’s an edge there—something between defensiveness and curiosity.

Kenan tilts his head, studying you with a gaze that feels heavy and knowing. “You don’t look lost, just… searching.”

The words hit you harder than they should. You weren’t expecting this, the sharpness of his insight, the way he seems to see right through you. It’s unsettling, this stranger who talks like he’s known you for longer than a few minutes and a few stolen glances, and yet there’s a pull there, an undeniable magnetism that keeps you rooted in place.

“you’ve got me all figured out huh?” your voice is lilting, amusement covering your tone but there's an edge of vulnerability underneath.

Kenan doesn’t answer, and there’s a stretch of silence that embraces the both of you, despite the loud music, it feels muted in each other's presence. Kenan stares at you, and you struggle to identify what he’s thinking.

It makes you feel on edge, the fact that he seems to have you all figured out yet you struggle to decipher the slightest gestures from him.

You’re almost lost in your own train of thought when his voice interrupts, “Not yet.” he says finally. Once again, you can’t tell what he’s truly hinting, a promise or a threat?

“She left?” you ask, before you can help yourself. The question has been at the back of your throat since the moment Kenan joined you. You try to keep your voice casual, like you hadn’t noticed at all.

Kenan shrugs, a slow, deliberate movement. “She’s not staying the night,” he says, his voice low and smooth, tinged with a hint of something you can’t quite place. “Not that kind of thing.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just nod, staring out at the city below, at the endless sprawl of lights that seem to go on forever. The Weeknd’s song comes on again , the lyrics floating through the air like a whisper, “We don’t gotta be in love no, I don’t gotta be the one, no, I just wanna be one of your girls tonight.”

“Do you ever get tired of it?” you ask suddenly, the question slipping out before you can stop it for the second time tonight. Kenan turns to look at you, his expression unreadable, and you feel the weight of his gaze settle on you like a challenge.

“Tired of what?” he asks, though you suspect he already knows the answer.

You gesture vaguely toward the rooftop, the party, the endless cycle of nights spent drifting through half-lit rooms and fleeting moments. “All of this. The pretending. The never really being… anything.”

For a second, you think he’s going to brush you off, make some clever remark that’ll deflect the question, but instead, he just sighs, a quiet, weary sound that you weren’t expecting. “I don’t know,” he says finally, and there’s a heaviness in his voice that catches you off guard. “It’s easier, sometimes, to just keep things simple. No expectations. No strings.”

For the first time, you feel as if you’re finally beginning to understand him, not just playing a game of guess, but rather truly knowing. You feel a pang of recognition, because you understand that logic all too well—the way it’s easier to stay on the surface, to keep things light and meaningless, rather than risk the messiness of something real. But tonight, with the city spread out below you and the song still echoing in your ears, it all feels emptier than usual.

“You’re not really like that, though, are you?” you say, quieter this time, your words barely audible over the music. “You like to pretend you are, but… you want more.”

It’s clear you’ve hit the mark, Kenan’s gaze sharpens, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to decide whether or not to let you in. You can see the conflict there, the war between what’s easy and what’s real, and for a moment, you think he might turn away, might let the moment pass like all the others. But then he leans in, closer than before, so close that you can see the faint lines of tiredness around his green eyes, the shadows of everything he’s not saying.

There’s a weight to his stare that makes your skin prickle, and you feel exposed, like he’s peeling back all the layers you’ve carefully built around yourself, leaving you bare in front of him.

“You think you know me?” he finally says, his voice low, almost mocking. There’s a challenge in his tone, and it sends a shiver through you, a reminder of why you’re drawn to him in the first place. He’s dangerous in a way that doesn’t involve risks to your body but to your soul. The kind of danger that pulls you in and makes you want to give everything, even when you know you shouldn’t.

“I think we’re both more alike than you let on,” you say instead, and it’s more honest than you intended, the words slipping out like a confession. He doesn’t react right away, just keeps watching you, his expression shifting in that subtle, unreadable way that makes you feel like you’re on the edge of something you can’t control.

He steps closer, invading your space, and you can feel the heat of him, the pull of his presence like a gravitational force that draws you in whether you want it or not. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” he murmurs, and there’s something almost predatory in his tone, like he’s got you exactly where he wants you. “You like it. You like what I make you feel.”

You want to deny it, to pull back and put some distance between you, but you can’t. Because he’s right. You do like it. You like the way he makes you forget, the way he makes everything feel sharper, more vivid, like you’re finally alive in a world that’s constantly trying to dull you down. He has this way of stripping away the parts of you that don’t matter, leaving only the raw, unfiltered core of who you are—a side of yourself you’ve buried deep and only let out in the dark, away from everyone’s eyes.

The words hit you harder than you expected, because he’s right—he knows exactly what to say to unravel you. You’re not used to feeling this exposed, this seen, and it’s terrifying and thrilling all at once. With him, every moment feels heightened, like he’s pulled you out of the gray haze of your everyday life and into something sharper, more real. It’s dangerous, the way he makes you feel like you could trade everything for these fleeting moments, where nothing else exists but this connection, raw and unfiltered.

“You don’t know what I want,” you say, but your voice wavers, betraying the defiance you’re trying to hold onto. He smirks, not cruelly, but like he’s already won. And maybe he has, because standing here, inches away from him, you feel like you’d give up anything just to keep feeling this way—this alive.

He brushes his fingers along your jaw, a light touch that makes your breath hitch, and you can’t help but lean into it, craving the contact. “I don’t need to know everything,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. He says that, but it feels like he is aware of every thought that has crossed your mind.

It scares you just as much as it excites you, and your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips, but there’s a hesitancy that clings on to you, your fear more prominent than your desire.

He knows the parts of you that you keep locked away, the side that craves this—the thrill, the rush, the way he makes you forget everything else. It’s like he’s unlocked something in you, something you didn’t even know you were missing until now. With him, you don’t have to be strong, don’t have to be perfect or put together. You can just be. And it’s that feeling that scares you the most, because you know it won’t last, but you’re willing to risk it anyway.

Kenan watches you, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” he says, and it’s not gentle, it’s a little bit broken, a little bit like he’s speaking to himself as much as to you. There’s a crack in his composure, and it’s enough to remind you that underneath all his sharp edges, he’s just as lost as you are.

“You don’t have to either” You whisper at him, and you’re so much closer now, you can see the moles that dot his face, count every eyelash, and most importantly, you’re given access to the intensity behind his eyes, the same burning sensation in you is lit alight in his gaze.

You can feel his breath against your skin, hear the faint hitch of his breathing “You’re trouble,” he says finally, his voice quiet and rough, like he’s admitting it to himself as much as to you.

He’s close enough now that you can feel the heat of him, and it’s like every nerve in your body is on fire, every part of you screaming to pull him closer even though you know you shouldn’t.

The kiss is inevitable. It’s slow at first, hesitant, like he’s holding back, but it doesn’t last. The restraint melts away in an instant, and then it’s all heat and urgency, a clash of mouths and desperate hands as you pull each other closer, seeking something neither of you can name. His fingers tangle in your hair, his lips trailing down your neck, and you arch into him, losing yourself in the sensation, in the way he makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters.

There’s a kind of desperation in the way you move together, a frantic need to forget everything but this moment. Clothes fall away, discarded carelessly, and you find yourself pressed against the cold glass of the window, opposite the railing of the roof, the city sprawling out on the other side of you like a sea of lights. It feels reckless, dangerous, but that only makes you want him more, makes you crave the feeling of losing control.

“You’re trouble too” You whisper when you’re both a mess of tangled lips, foreheads pressed together and breathing heavily.

Your words are tinged with something sad, and Kenan must recognise it, because he presses a soft kiss to your forehead that feels so different from the facade you’re so used to seeing him put up. His one action speaks a thousand words.

It’s enough to make you understand and for now, that’s all you need.

fin.

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

thank u all for the love on my stories ☹️💞 and thank you for the requests, i’m working on them rn !! and i’ll post them soon 💋

forza juve 🤍🖤

him 🫠😩

NEW

Can you do a Angst Arda ff story where he has a bestfriend and a girlfriend but he only hangs out with his bestfriend and the reader starts to feel left out.

And it went on for about 2 months and the reader couldn’t hold it anymore because Arda barely spent time with her at her worst days and she leaves him at the end.

But there’s a plot twist.

She wanted to spend time with him because she was diagnosed with cancer but he obviously couldn’t so she left him with a goodbye letter where she confesses her feelings and he eventually feels guilty and regret.

WITH LOVE, • ARDA GÜLER

( pairing ) arda güler x reader

i actually love this request esp the best friend part because, real.

warnings - character death, maybe slight grammatical errors

Everyone had warned you about the girl best friend, that it was a world wide experience to most, if not all, girlfriends where they would be a third wheel in their own relationship.

You had been warned by everybody, a collection of stereotypes thrown at your way and your only way to refute them was, “well, the boyfriend wasn’t arda.”

You were so confident that Arda would never replace you, would never prioritise anyone else above you and at first, this confidence hadn’t been misplaced.

Arda made you feel like you were the moon in a sky full of stars. You were charmed by him, why wouldn’t you be?

Unfortunately you should’ve listened to your friends when they told you about the three month rule and the inevitable consequence of dating a man who had a girl best friend.

You should’ve listened when they said that a guy is only friends with a girl they find attractive.

You should’ve listened to them, when your dates became group hangouts, where your usual passenger princess seat was designated for Arda’s best friend because Arda had picked her up before he’d come to get you.

You should’ve heeded the warnings when you were left there blinking owlishly while Arda laughed himself off to an inside joke shared with another girl. With the best friend. With a girl that wasn’t you. He was laughing. At an inside joke. Something you couldn’t understand.

You had never felt more lonely, knowing that someone else had discovered the secret parts of Arda, your person, when you had only just began to scratch the surface.

You knew what he liked and what he didn’t, but she knew the stories behind his preferences, was there when he made these decisions. And it hurt, it felt like a knife twisting around your gut, because even though you were the one who held Arda’s hand, even though he was always there, he still managed to feel so far apart. Out of reach for you.

At first, it was easy to brush off the unease. They were best friends, after all, and you knew better than to be jealous. Arda was charming in his own right, with that effortless way of making everyone around him feel important. But as time went on, the charm began to wear thin, replaced by a growing ache in your chest that you couldn’t quite name.

It started with the little things, because it was always the little things, wasn’t it?

The way Arda’s eyes lit up when she walked into the room, a brightness in his eyes that you had noticed only rarely when he looked at you, a look that you had to work hard for that she so effortlessly attained.

The way he would talk about her, his best friend, and it was indisputable the way his voice would soften, laced with fondness and warmth that made your heart twist with something bitter.

You tried to ignore it, telling yourself it was nothing, that you were being paranoid, but the doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of your happiness.

You remember the first time you truly felt like a third wheel. The three of you were out for dinner, and it had scared you, how fast date night had turned into more than just you and Arda alone.

The conversation flowed easily between them, a rhythm you struggled to keep up with. You laughed at their jokes, nodded along to stories you weren’t a part of, but it was like watching a movie you weren’t cast in. Arda made some offhand comment, and her laughter rang out, loud and free, and the pride in Arda’s eyes at eliciting that very reaction made you want to claw out your own. You had tried to join in, but the moment had already passed, leaving you feeling awkward and out of place.

It escalated to the point where you felt like you were watching them from behind a glass wall, there but only barely. You were only an onlooker, watching but never part of the moment.

You began to wonder whether Arda even realised you were there.

It hurt, but you swallowed the pain, telling yourself it was just your imagination. But the cracks in your relationship widened, little fissures that deepened with every glance, every shared moment you weren’t a part of. You tried to bring it up once, tried to tell Arda how you felt, but he brushed it off, laughing softly as he assured you there was nothing to worry about.

“You’re being silly,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then it was back to her again.

The kiss had meant to be warm, but you only felt a deep bone chilling cold, freezing you in place.

The little kiss on your forehead, a gesture of comfort, had brought more pain to you in that moment than anything else.

The pain had begun to grow so egregious, it had begun to affect you physically, that when you began to cough up blood, you had felt at first that it was only your bleeding heart. It wasn’t long after that when you started to feel the changes in your body. The fatigue that wouldn’t go away, the bruises that appeared without reason, the weight loss you couldn’t explain. You tried to ignore it, chalking it up to stress or exhaustion, but deep down, you knew something was wrong. You could feel it, a quiet dread settling in the pit of your stomach, growing heavier with each passing day.

Arda had been so caught up with her, he never noticed.

Of course a visit to the Doctor, alone, confirmed that you had a diagnosis of terminal cancer, and not just a severely broken heart.

You had sat there, in the cold sterile room, resigned at your fate, the doctor’s words echoing inside your head.

“We found something,” he had said, his voice gentle but firm. The words that followed blurred together, a litany of medical terms and probabilities, but the meaning was clear enough. It was cancer—aggressive, late-stage, the kind that doesn’t leave much room for hope.

You decided that you would keep this to yourself. Finding that telling Arda to be something more difficult than the entire ordeal you had been subjected to.

All you felt was if, when, your presence would disappear from Arda’s life, would he miss you? And then you shook your head, how could he, because you had already disappeared from Arda’s life ages ago.

You came to the realization that though you had still a beating heart, you were a ghost now, haunting the edges of a relationship that no longer felt like yours.

You went home that day, walking through the door as if nothing had changed. Arda greeted you with a smile, asking how your day was, and you answered with a lie that came too easily, your voice had remained steady, betraying nothing. You sat with him on the couch, feeling their warmth beside you, but all you could think about was how much time you had left—how many more moments like this you’d get,

You felt selfish, knowing that you weren’t breaking up with him even if your relationship had come to an end ages ago. You wanted to delude yourself into thinking that Arda, some part of him atleast, still loved you.

And when the pain became too much, when your body started to betray you with weakness and exhaustion, you found excuses. You were tired from work, you said. You weren’t feeling well, maybe just a cold. Arda would look at you with concern, but he believed you—why wouldn’t he? He had no reason to doubt you, no reason to think that something so terrible could be lurking just beneath the surface.

The days blurred into weeks, and the cancer spread, a silent invader you couldn’t stop. You could feel it inside you, gnawing away at your strength, your hope, your future. The pain was constant now, a dull ache that radiated through your bones, but you bore it in silence, hiding the worst of it behind closed doors. You were familiar with heartache, what was a little more agony?

But Arda was perspective, at least somewhat. He noticed how you’d down a pill after every meal, the pallor of your skin, and your ghostly complexion. He noticed the bags under your eyes, and how frail you’d gotten, but it was too late.

You felt the day arrive, the day you knew that your life had reached its end, and it had took all your energy to muster up the strength to write everything you had wanted to say into a letter.

Dear Arda,

I don’t know how to begin this letter, and even if I did, I’m not sure it would be enough to say all that I need to say. But I’m running out of time, and I need you to hear this, even if it’s only in the words I leave behind. By the time you read this letter, you’ll know why I’ve written it.

First, I want you to know I’ve always admired you, Arda. From the moment we met, I knew there was something special about you—something warm and bright that drew people in, like a lighthouse in the dark. I’ve watched you bring so much joy to those around you, and it hurt me incredibly when I realised that I never did the same for you, rather it was your best friend, but now that I’m going, i’m happy that you have someone who makes you just as happy as you do with everyone else.

I have told you this, but i’ll say it again,I love you, Arda. Even though loving you hurt me more than anything, i’m grateful to have met you, and I wish nothing but the best for you, I wish you happiness for eternity.

I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark about what was happening to me, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you looking at me with pity, of you worrying about me when you already had so much on your shoulders. I didn’t want you to see me like this, broken and scared, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop it. You were always so strong, so solid, and I couldn’t bear to take that away from you.

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone, Cancer does that. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye in person, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold it together if I did. I wanted you to remember me as I was, not as I am now. I wanted you to keep that image of me in your mind, whole and happy, instead of the person I’ve become.

Anyway, I’m asking you to live your life, Arda. Don’t let my passing weigh on you. Don’t let it stop you from being the person you’re meant to be. I want you to be happy. I want you to find joy, even if it takes time. You deserve that. You deserve everything good in this world.

I loved you, Arda. I still do. And I’ll carry that love with me, wherever I’m going. Please don’t cry for me. Just remember me, and remember that I wanted you to live, really live, even after I’m gone.

With love,

You signed the letter and then, finally, you allowed yourself to cry.

Sobs wracked through your body, all the pain that you felt flowing out like a waterfall and that’s how you left, tear stained cheeks and curled up in bed.

It was pitiful, but it had been how you felt, Helpless.

When Arda came home that evening, he found the apartment eerily quiet. The air felt thick, heavy with something he couldn’t quite place. He called your name, but there was no answer. He knew you had been feeling off lately, more tired, more distant, but he never expected this. His heart pounded in his chest as he made his way through the apartment, a creeping dread settling in his stomach.

And then he saw you.

You were lying on the bed, your body still, too still. He rushed to your side, his breath catching in his throat as he called your name again, louder this time, but still no response. His hands shook as he reached out to touch you, his fingers trembling against your cold skin.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Please, wake up…”

But you were gone.

The realization hit him like a freight train, knocking the breath from his lungs. He collapsed beside you, his hands clutching at you desperately, as if he could somehow pull you back from the brink. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unrelenting, as the full weight of your loss crashed over him.

He found the letter on the nightstand beside the bed, your handwriting scrawled across the paper, shaky but familiar. With trembling hands, he unfolded it, his eyes scanning the words you had left behind for him. As he read, his tears fell harder, soaking the paper, smudging the ink.

The letter was like a knife to the heart. Every word was a reminder of how much you had suffered in silence, of how you had loved him, even as you were slipping away. He could barely breathe as he read your confession, and when he reached the end of the letter, regret consumed his being, enveloping and guilt drowned him.

He cried, his sobs wracking his body as he clutched the letter to his chest. He cried for you, for the time you didn’t have, for the things he never said. He cried for the feelings he hadn’t realized you felt, for the guilt that now gnawed at him, knowing you had kept this burden from him, from everyone. He cried because he couldn’t save you, because you were gone, and there was nothing he could do to bring you back.

But he cried most for his blindness, how couldn’t he have noticed how you had felt, how had he let you feel so unloved, so ignored.

Self loathing plagued him as he sat there, pondering whether he could have saved your life, only if he hadn’t been so stupid.

He wished for time to turn back, he wished to change the way he had treated you, but it was too late.

fin.

i can’t watch this anymore

Heyyy love❤️

Could u maybe write where Kenan is dating reader and they have an argument in his car cuz he used to see her friend before they two met but it wasn’t serious they only went out on 2-3 dates, so yn feel guilty for seeing him, but kenan reassures her she shouldnt feel that, and… mby some smut if ur comfy writing that!

THE OTHER WOMAN • KENAN YILDIZ

( pairing ) kenan yıldız x reader

warning - angst (obviously!) also i’m sorry but i don’t feel comfortable writing smut i still hope u enjoy this tho!!

Falling in love with Kenan had been the last thing you’d expected from yourself, hell, you’d never have even thought there would be an opportunity where you would see him as anything more than the guy your friend had been seeing.

Unfortunately for you, Kenan made it easy for you, with his little gestures that would leave any girl fawning, it was inevitable that your feelings developed into something more potent.

When you had first met him, it was at lunch with your entire group of friends, and in that moment, Kenan had only been a rather handsome stranger, albeit your friend hadn’t yet sought out his affection.

And then the next time you saw him, your friend had announced that she’d reached out to him, and he had agreed, and soon one date had turned to three, and though they weren’t dating, they were something. Thus the little fire that had been ignited in your heart was brutally stomped upon and extinguished.

That was till Kenan had approached you at a bonfire with all your friends lost, and your group was a rather large bunch, so you hadn’t found his presence odd, rather it was the skip of your heartbeat that had you feeling alienated.

It had only been one conversation then, you’d thought to yourself that night, trying to console yourself that you hadn’t done anything wrong.

But then Kenan began to reach out more often, he initiated conversations from the blue, and you couldn’t help yourself, enjoying how freely you could express yourself to him in a way that you hadn’t ever been able to with anyone else.

You met him at cafes, he drove you around town, and at night you wandered off with him on idle walks that felt like a walk through the gardens of eden, simply due to his presence.

You enjoyed how he lingered on to every word you said, listening to the things you had to say with utmost importance, as if he wasn’t a world star footballer with far more important things to do. As if there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be, than by your side, listening to you chatter on about the most mundane things ever.

He remembered things about you that you yourself hadn’t noticed, like the fact that you tapped the little teaspoon on the cup of your coffee before you took a sip, or the way you would fiddle with the little charm on your bracelet whenever you were anxious.

He noticed you, and he saw you for you.

In return, you began to look past Kenan the footballer. Kenan who always texted his mother after he ate, reassuring her that he was alright despite being miles apart, Kenan who enjoyed rap music whenever he drove you around, Kenan who preferred his coffee loaded with sugar and Kenan, who struggled a little with expressing himself.

Perhaps this act of noticing had been the inaction on your friend’s part that had lead to Kenan, too, to develop feelings for you, that in your opinion, were not acceptable.

Perhaps this had been the cause of what lead to your predicament right now.

Seated in the passenger seat of his car, the usual loud music that he played muffled by the sound of both your voices.

“This is wrong, Kenan.” You shouted for the nth time, tears of frustration at the corners of your eyes.

The air was tense and suffocating in a way it had never been before, not with kenan.

He clenched his jaw. “Why can’t you understand, it’s not that serious?”

“Don’t just brush this off like it’s nothing,” your voice rose in frustration, “She was my friend, and” you shook your head.

“Just, we can’t be together, it feels wrong.”

Kenan makes an aggressive cut on the road, swerving the car around, and you notice the way his expression hardens further, “Stop overthinking this! We went out a few times, so what? Big deal” His voice rises to match yours, “I don’t understand why you’re make this bigger than it needs to be.”

“Of course you don’t.” You snap at him.

“You won’t have to face her, show your face around knowing that you betrayed her? She’s my friend, she won’t like it that we started going out when you’re technically her ex!”

He keeps one hand on the steering wheel as he runs the other one through his hair, gripping a little at the edges of the strands a little in an obvious display of frustration.

“How is this betrayal? It’s not like we were in love, we weren’t even that close, you’re making it seem like so much more serious.”

“Kenan you don’t-“

He cuts you off before you can utter out what you want to say, “Stop making this such a big deal, you’re blowing things way out of proportion!”

You feel a sting at his words. “It is a big deal to me! You may not think it was serious, but have you considered that she might have? How will i face her knowing how bad i’ve hurt her.”

Kenan pauses, hearing the despair in your voice, Concern arises in his gaze as he looks at you for a moment, taking his eyes off the road.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” his voice is softer now, “but you need to understand. What your friend and i had? it was nothing. It was short and casual, it meant nothing.”

"But it meant something to me," you insist, the anger in your voice giving way to a deeper vulnerability. "I care about her, and I care about our friendship. I just don’t want to feel like I’m doing something wrong."

The car rolls to a stop, evident that you’ve arrived to your destination and then Kenan removes his hand from the wheel, turning to you and grabbing your own.

“Hey, hey, i get it. You’re worried about her, how she might feel about this, but i promise to you, there’s no bad blood between us, she’s moved on, and she’ll be happy for you, not betrayed by you. You don’t have to feel guilty for your feelings.”

You blink away the tears in yours eyes, swallowing dryly.

“You really think so?” Your voice is barely a whisper.

“I know so.” He smiles and then he frowns.

“Did she not tell you that I’d asked her for your number, and she’d been happy about it?”

Your mouth drops open at his words, “What? and all this time?”

Kenan chuckles at you, “I wouldn’t want you to have to choose between me or your friend, I’m sorry i didn’t understand sooner”

You feel as if a mountain has been unloaded off your back, relief enveloping you.

The air around you that had previously been tense turns into something gentler.

Kenan pulls you close, nuzzling his nose against your hair as he wraps his arms around you.

“I just didn’t want to lose either of you.”

“You won’t,” He brushes a strand of hair from your face, “If you want, we can talk to her again,” He smiles at you, tapping your head, he adds, “my worrywart.”

You grimace at the term, but then smile, pressing a small kiss to his nose.

“Thank you.”

fin.

THE ALCHEMY • KENAN YILDIZ

( pairing ) kenan yildiz x reader

based off a request on taylor swift’s “the alchemy”

warnings - a little angst, toxic relationship (?)

When Kenan and you had first started dating, just a few months before he made his official debut for Juventus under Series A, your relationship had been nothing short of perfect.

Despite the hectic schedule that kept Kenan occupied more often than not, and your own commitments, he was devoted to showering you with his love and affection.

After every training session, he’d find the time to pick you up in his Jeep, ensuring that both of you spent at least an hour together at the very least. On the days when he couldn’t , he went out of his way to make sure that he facetimed you.

More than that, your phone never lacked a notification from ‘Kenan 🌟’ and almost weekly, a bouquet of the gladiolus flower and foxgloves, would find its way to your doorstep, a single note attached, labelled ‘love kenan ’

His love for you had been overwhelming, all consuming. It enveloped you like a blanket, caging you in with sweet little whispers and alike.

When Kenan made his big debut, things changed. He took you to dates to High end restaurants, candle lit with a black tie dress code, and although you enjoyed your carefree nights munching through drive through fast food, you couldn’t deny the appeal of luxury that Kenan showered you in.

Instead of the sweet smelling bouquets, a chanel bag or a bracelet from cartier, wrapped in expensive leather made its way to you, and a little note signed with his name.

Yet the time you spent together dwindled, his training sessions dragged on and took longer, drained him to deep exhaustion and your facetime calls shortened in numbers and time, but you accepted it. Understanding that this life didn’t come without repercussions.

You were more than happy to support him, wearing his jersey number with immense pride, you tried your hardest to show up at every match he played, screaming your throat raw from the grandstands.

The moment when Juventus had won the Italian cup would be engraved in your memory forever, burned in your mind.

The euphoria on Kenan’s face was ardent, and you couldn’t help but beam at him, he had raced across towards you, cradling you in his arms as if you were the trophy instead, and had kissed you so fervently.

Your heart wanted to burst apart at the seams, the emotions drowning you wholly, that you felt your body would shut down from the enormity of it.

And then, everything fell apart.

You couldn’t understand how it had happened or who was to blame, but there was something that had started to poison the sweetness that laced your relationship with Kenan.

The dates you went on with him became shorter with fans invading the personal moments between Kenan and you, invading the time that you’d needed to unwind. You couldn’t blame them, it was heartwarming to see Kenan as someone people admired and looked up to, it felt nice for others to recognize the potential he had the same way you had done, but on the occasion, you needed it to be just you and him.

Sometimes, Kenan showed up too late, or you had to leave too early, there was an abruptness that appeared.

Your patience began to dwindle with every date, every call answered too late, and every text message ignored due to training.

Kenan too began to grow irritable with every complaint you made, every argument you started.

You talked less, and fought more, but along with every fight, an undercurrent of tension lay there, aggressive yet alluring, and instead of ending the night with gentle kisses and whispered affirmations, you engaged in tantalizing activities fueled by heat and hostility.

It had been fun at first, but a heart wasn’t meant to to be thrown around, rather it should be cradled.

Yet you couldn’t leave, and it was clear that neither could he. You were addicted to one another, each other’s heroine, and perhaps it didn’t matter that you cried more than you laughed with him, because at the end of the day, his kisses kept you incarcerated next to him.

You were branded already, his jersey on your body indicated that to the entire world.

fin.

love to see more requests for kenan, i’m open to writing for other footballers as well!!

@extrology467 thank you for this request, i hope it meets your expectations!

also i hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!!

few things to add, based on my interpretation of the song, she starts with depictions of infatuation, and then cracks begin to appear, but there’s an addiction here that keeps her caged!

i tried to use the flowers to depict the theme of infatuation and illusion, and a lot of the words would typically be used more in a negative light , idk if it came across but i hope so!

literally why is there such little kenan content on here

guys.... kenan yildiz is soooooooooo fine wdym he barely has any fics here😖😖 am i supposed to write those delusions by myself 😖😖⁉️⁉️

take me back to this time

KENAN YILDIZ Türkiye - Portugal | Euro 2024 (June 22nd, 2024)

guys do any of you have good kenan yildiz fic recs pls 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

—starry night • ky10

( pairing ) kenan yildiz x reader

kenan sneaks you out for a date under the stars

Your heart thuds against your chest, the rapid beat sounds almost violent in your ears in comparison to the silence of the night.

The cool breeze makes you shiver, goosebumps lining your skin from a mix of adrenaline, fear and the wind.

You hesitate at the window, slight unease coloring your thoughts, as you ponder over the risk of seriously injuring yourself from falling, or worse, your parents hearing you try to sneak out.

You look down, and instantly, all rationale leaves your brain when you spot him, a mischievous grin on his face as he looks up at you.

The adoration in his eyes makes you blush, but you’re desperate now, to be in his warm arms as soon as possible.

You make it out somehow, and Kenan cradles you, strong arms helping you find your feet on the ground.

“You good?” His voice is quiet, concern lacing his tone as his eyes scan you over for anything harmful.

You nod at him, smiling shyly as you fiddle with the hem of the shirt that you’d stolen from him ages ago.

The fondness from his gaze makes you melt on the spot, and you bury your face in his chest, overwhelmed by the love in his eyes.

He laughs quietly, “Come on, I have something very special planned for us.”

You look at him inquisitively, “What is it?”

He doesn’t respond, rather he simply grabs your hands and leads you along, you trudge behind him curiously.

“What are you up to?” you whisper, although it’s not necessary, seeing as your house has long since disappeared behind, as well as the possibility of getting in trouble with your parents vanishing along with it.

He brings you to a spot, laden with blankets and snacks, “A date under the stars for my star girl.”

You can’t help the surprised look on your face, and you turn to him, unable to say anything.

He smiles at you a little sheepishly, “I noticed you reading about stargazing the other day,” he rubs the back of his neck, “so I thought..” He doesn’t say anything else, shrugging and you launch yourself at him.

You pepper his face with little kisses, “Oh kenan! How’d i get so lucky”

He shakes his head, smiling at you with affection, “come on, tell me all about the constellations you like.”

You both lay down, and Kenan wraps an arm around you, effortlessly pulling you closer.

You point up at the stars, diving into detail about each constellation and star.

“and this right here,” you point up, casting your eyes at the little diamonds that glimmer in the sky, “is the heart nebula, which ironically, lies in the Cassiopeia.”

Kenan listens to every word with rapt attention but his eyes wander from the night sky to your face, illuminated under the stars and the glow of the moonlight.

You turn your head as you finish explaining and your eyes connect with his green ones, staring at you with so much love, it’s dizzying.

You feel breathless as you look at him.

“I think out of every star ever, nothing compares to how beautiful your eyes are.” He whispers softly, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“You’re so cheesy” you reply yet your cheeks have coloured red from his words.

He smiles at you, and his eyes dart towards your lips, your own doing the same. You nod at him when he looks at you with question in his eyes, and then before you can blink, his lips connect with yours.

His lips feel like ambrosia, and you gasp into his mouth, his arms come to rest on your waist, pulling you closer.

“Hey you know, most of these constellations don’t have very happy endings,” he whispers against your lips, and you frown in confusion.

His next words, however, make your heart soar and your eyes twinkle brighter than stars.

“But you and i? we’re forever baby, written in the stars or not, i’m yours and you’re mine.”

fin.

im sorry idek what im doing but i cannot stop thinking about kenan so i had to write about him

Hey Kaya!

Could you write something where there were already rumours of YN and Kenan dating, cause he followed her instagram with both of his accounts(public and private) and constantly put likes to her posts; but one night his cousin(cubanito, Idk if they’re actually cousins) called him while he was live on twitch and showed the camera where ,other than Kenan, YN could be seen too.

Thank youuu🌸

EXPOSED - KENAN YILDIZ

In which your relationship gets exposed

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The evening had been perfect. Kenan and I were wrapped up in each other, enjoying a rare quiet night together at his place.

We had been cuddling on the couch, the low hum of the TV in the background, though neither of us was paying much attention to it.

Instead, we were caught up in our own little world, exchanging soft kisses and whispered words that only made us feel closer.

I was curled up against him, my head resting on his chest while his arm was draped around me.

His free hand was playing with my hair, the gentle motions lulling me into a state of blissful contentment.

Every now and then, he would tilt my chin up and press a kiss to my lips, and I would melt a little more into him.

“Can’t believe how lucky I am,” he murmured between kisses, his voice low and sincere.

I smiled, nuzzling closer. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

We shared another kiss, slow and sweet, but just as things were starting to heat up, Kenan’s phone buzzed on the coffee table.

We both ignored it at first, but it buzzed again, and Kenan let out a reluctant sigh as he pulled back.

“Let me just see who that is,” he said softly, reaching for his phone. I stayed cuddled up against him, not really wanting to move away from the warmth of his embrace.

“It’s Cubanito,” he said, showing me the screen before answering the call. “He’s probably on stream. I’ll just say hi and be quick.”

I nodded, a little disappointed that our moment was interrupted, but I understood. Kenan’s cousin was always up to something, and I figured it was probably just a quick call to check in.

Kenan’s voice was warm as he greeted Cubanito. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Kenan, my man! I’m live right now. The chat’s been asking about you, figured I’d give them a little surprise,” Cubanito’s voice boomed through the speaker, full of energy.

Kenan chuckled, “Sure, man. I’ll say hi.”

He held the phone up to his face, waving at the camera. I stayed close to him, still lost in the cozy moment we were sharing.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I realized something: the camera wasn’t just on Kenan. It was angled in a way that showed a little more than just him.

My heart skipped a beat as I noticed that part of my head and shoulder were visible on the screen.

I wasn’t exactly hidden away, and with the way we were cuddling, it was clear I was right there with him.

“Yo, Kenan’s got company!” Cubanito teased, his voice full of mischief. But before I could even process what was happening, Kenan’s eyes widened in realization.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, quickly turning the phone away and cutting the call short. The screen went dark, and for a moment, we both just sat there in stunned silence.

We looked at each other, our eyes wide with shock, and then our phones buzzed almost simultaneously.

Notifications were pouring in—messages, tags, and alerts from social media. The fans were already buzzing, and it was clear that the rumor mill had just exploded.

Kenan blinked at his phone, then back at me. “Did that just happen?”

I nodded, still processing the situation. “Yeah… I think we just got caught.”

For a second, we just stared at each other, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. Then, out of nowhere, Kenan let out a laugh—a deep, hearty laugh that was so infectious I couldn’t help but join in.

“Of all the ways to go public…” I giggled, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it all.

Kenan grinned, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he pulled me closer. “Well, at least we don’t have to hide anymore, right?”

I laughed, leaning into him as he wrapped his arms around me. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Our phones continued to buzz, but neither of us paid them any mind. We were too caught up in the moment, too busy laughing at the absurd situation we had found ourselves in.

It wasn’t how we’d planned to go public, but in a weird way, it was perfectly us.

As we settled back into our comfortable spot on the couch, Kenan pressed a kiss to my forehead, still chuckling softly. “At least now, I can post about you without it being a big mystery.”

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. “And I can stop pretending you’re just a friend whenever someone asks.”

—brothers best friend • ky10

( pairing ) kenan yildiz x reader

where kenan’s girlfriend is the sister of his best friend

random images from pinterest

liked by kenanyildiz_official, brotheruser, and others

ynusername - he’s half german so his hiking skills are subpar

@kenanyildiz_official

replies

kenanyildiz_official - are you sure my skills are subpar and not yours 🤔

ynusername - read the caption again, hope this helps!

kenanyildiz_official - so you weren’t the one who had to be carried half way through this“hike”

ynusername - nope i have no clue what ur talking about

user13 - HELP HE CARRIED HER??? I NEED A MAN LIKE KENAN ASAP

user32 - they’re so cute i can’t

user21 - the first pic omg 🥹

user88 - @user88bf why can’t u be like kenan 😞

user88bf - bruh

brotheruser - bro can you stop stealing my best friend

ynusername - no he likes me more than you 🫶🏻

ynusername posted a story!

replies

kenanyildiz_official

—you did kiss my stupid face

user81

—THE WAY HES LOOKING AT YOU????

brotheruser

—ew what the fuck stop posting this shit

liked by ynusername, ardaguler and others

kenanyildiz_official - First game wearing the iconic number 10 - Proud and Thankful 🤍🖤

replies

ynusername - so proud 🥹

❤️ by author

ardaguler - 🔥🔥🔥

brotheruser - super 💪🏻

user12 - future of number 10

user13 - ❤️🥹🔥

liked by kenanyildiz_official and others

ynusername - can’t wait to see you become one of the greatest to wear the number 10 🤍🖤

replies

kenanyildiz_official - wouldn’t be here without you ❤️

ynusername - ily

brotheruser - ig yall are cute 🙄

❤️ by author

ftblwags - cutest

user92 - she’s so supportive 🥹

brotheruser posted a story!

replies

kenanyildiz_official

—send this to me

ynusername

—hater 🙄

user11

— thirdwheel

kenanyildiz_official posted a story!

💌 heart to heart

( pairing ) kenan yildiz x reader

Without a word, you sat down beside him. The cold of the bench seeped through your clothes, but you didn’t mind. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched on, heavy with the weight of what could have been.

Finally, you reached out and gently touched his arm. “Kenan,” you whispered, your voice soft, trying to pull him out of his thoughts.

He finally looked up, and it ached to see his beautiful green eyes rimmed with red. He wasn’t crying, yet the sadness etched across his face was heartbreaking. “I let everyone down,” he murmured. “My team, my country… you.”

Your heart lurched at his words, agonized at his thoughts. You shook your head, tightening your grip on his arm. “You didn’t let anyone down. You played with everything you had. You made us proud.”

Kenan sighed, leaning back against the wall, his gaze distant. “But it wasn’t enough.”

“Sometimes, it isn’t,” you agreed, “but that doesn’t mean you failed. It means you were brave enough to fight. And that’s what people will remember. Not the score, not the loss—but the heart you showed out there.”

He turned his head slightly, meeting your eyes. There was a flicker of something—hope, perhaps—buried deep within his sadness. “Do you really believe that?”

You smiled softly, nodding. “With all my heart. And besides, this isn’t the end. You’ll have more chances, more games. You’ll learn from this and come back even stronger.”

Kenan took a deep breath, letting your words sink in. Slowly, the tension in his body began to ease, the sadness still there but less overwhelming now. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice full of gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “You don’t have to find out. I’m always here.”

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. And as you sat there together in the quiet aftermath of the loss, the world outside slowly started to feel a little brighter.

fin.

i’m going down a kenan rabbit hole

🎀 | 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

Kenan can rearrange my guts

wild 💀

🎀 | public courting • ky10

part 1

( pairing ) kenan yildiz x reader

smau!

liked by kenanyildiz_official, bsf11 and others

ynusername - when in rome

load comments

kenanyildiz_official - love italy ❤️

| user12 - bro has no game 💀

| randomuser - ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

| user9 - is he… flirting?

user45 - bella 😍

user8 - kenan in the comments does he even know yn 😭

bsf11 - photo credits ? 😒

| ynusername- my wonderful photographer ladies & gents

bsf11 - gorgeous girl

❤️ by author

user33 - kenan in the comments 👀

| user31 - can you blame him

user21 - idk if i wanna be her or be with her.

liked by kenanyildiz_official, bsf11 and others

ynusername - what girl doesn’t love flowers? ly @bsf11

user21 - @user2 take some lessons

| user2 - u first

bsf11 - luv you 😚

❤️ by author

kenanyildiz_official - oh

| user31 - pack it up bro

lorenzo_zurzolo - those flowers look pretty

| ynusername - ikr!

| user97 - lmao and poor kenan can’t even get a like on his comments 😭

user4 - kenan needs to up his game bro

liked by kenanyildiz_official, bsf1, ardaguler and others

ynusername - 🎀

user12 - face card of the century

bsf11 - gorgeous

lorenzo_zurzolo - 😍

| user1 - 🤔

kenanyildiz_official - cool 👍

| user12 - bffr 😐

| user0 - he’s hopeless

| ynusername - thanks!

| user086 - what.

| user00 - 🙂‍↕️

liked by kenanyildiz_official, ardaguler and others

ynusername - ?

bsf11 - missed you

kenanyildiz_official - cool 😎

| ardaguler - yo bro thanks for lending me your porsche

| ferdikadioglu - thanks for the billion dollar gift card man

| can.uzun10 - remember the time you gave me one of your 26 yachts for my birthday? appreciate 🙏🏻

| ilyaas.61 - thanks for saving my grandma from a deadly fire bro

| user2 - thanks for solving world hunger legend 🙏🏻

user7 - what are these comments 😭

user0 - looks like everyone’s team kenan?

ynusername posted a story

seen by 297k viewers

replies

kenanyildiz_official

hope u liked the flowers 😊

user12

WHO IS GIVING MY GIRL FLOWERS???

user2

HELLO THE SIZE OF THAT BOUQUET

i am so horrendously down bad for kenan

Yeah so actually you’re all fucking insane 😭😭 he is a GROWN MAN capable of making GROWN UP CHOICES… like idk if Magui is controversial but still that’s all to do with him, not you. 😭😭 argue with the walls since you’re all crazy enough to think it’ll listen

@.mclaren Oscar and Lando take on the fans. 💪