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Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Jules of Nature

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Kaledo Art

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One Nice Bug Per Day
DEAR READER
occasionally subtle
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@maknae-lenna
patiently waiting for the 2026 world cup to revive football tumblr
he fell asleep on maki's lap 😴
Could I please request Arda Guler with prompt 7 from comfort and prompt 12 from fluff if possible? Thank you and take as long as needed ❤️❤️
Homesick~Arda Güler
・❥・prompt list
・❥・masterlist -> part 2
・❥・who I write for
・❥・a/n: I still cry everytime I remember arda could've been at barca 😪. Shame cause I love him sm
7. “You’re not a burden. You’re my world.”
12. “You’re the best part of my day, every day.”
It was a Tuesday. Arda came home with a bag of her favorite pastries, a little bouquet of roses from the stand near the training center, and his training jacket zipped halfway down, hair slightly damp from the shower he didn’t fully dry from in his rush to get home.
The apartment was quiet. Unlike usual. The TV was playing something in the background, some home renovation show she usually made fun of.
But she wasn't watching it. She was curled up in the corner of the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands, her gaze distant and unfocused.
He set everything down carefully and stepped over to her. “Hey, baby.”
She looked up and tried to smile. “Hi.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” It came out too quickly. “Just tired.”
Arda crouched in front of her, studying her face. “That’s the third time this week you’ve said that.”
She glanced away, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Maybe I’m just… drained.”
“Okay,” he said gently, “but drained from what?”
He didn’t say it accusingly. Just softly, like he truly wanted to understand.
Her lips trembled, just slightly. And he noticed. Like he always did.
He reached up and tucked some hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger on her cheek. “I bought croissants. And flowers. The lady at the stand said these looked like ‘the kind of thing you give someone when they’ve had a rough day.’”
She let out a breath, half a chuckle, half a sigh.
“I’ve been trying not to show it,” she murmured. “I didn’t want to… I don’t know. I didn’t want to put more on your plate. You’ve been dealing with so much lately with training and stuff. And I just… I didn’t want to add to it.”
He frowned. “Add to it?”
She hesitated before she spoke up.
“I just…I've been feeling kinda lonely. I miss home. I’m overwhelmed sometimes for no reason. I didn’t want to say it because I didn’t want to burden you.”
His face changed the moment she said that. It was like something in his heart cracked wide open.
He reached up and gently cupped her face, thumbs brushing beneath her eyes as he looked at her.
“aşkım,” he said, barely a whisper, “you’re not a burden. You’re my whole world.”
She blinked quickly, lips parting, but no words came out.
He kissed her forehead gently. “You don’t have to carry this alone just because I’m busy. I want to be the one you come to.”
“I didn’t want to take space away from you,” she mumbled, eyes watery. “I didn’t want to make it about me.”
“It is about you,” he said softly. “You’re the best part of my day. Every day. I come home for you. I wake up for you. Even on the worst days, thinking of you gets me through.”
Her voice cracked as she spoke again. “Arda…”
Then he leaned in and kissed her softly. The kind of kiss that anchored her back into her body. One hand cradled the back of her neck while the other rested on her knee, grounding her in her place.
She closed her eyes and leaned into him, forehead pressed to his. “I miss my mom. My dad. Just… small things. The kitchen. My cat. I feel stupid for crying about it.”
“You’re allowed to miss the pieces of you,” he murmured. “They made you who you are. And I love every part of you.”
He pulled her gently into his lap, her legs curled across his, arms wrapped around her waist. He held her like she was something breakable and precious all at once.
She buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. His cologne. His warmth. It smelled like safety.
He whispered against her hair, “We’ll go visit soon, okay? Or call them tonight. Or I’ll book tickets right now if that’s what you need.”
She just shook her head, clutching him tighter. “I just need you to hold me please.”
He smiled into her temple and kissed it once, twice, then again.
“that's the easiest thing to do,” he whispered.
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Under the Santiago Bernabéu Lights
Pairing: Arda Güler x Reader
Word Count: 1665
Request open!
You signed the contract because it felt like the smallest, most sensible thing in a row of wild decisions.
“Real Madrid,” your agent had said over coffee, as if the name had no weight. You had smiled and signed on the dotted line and reminded yourself this was still photography,light, lens, patience. It was work. It was a job you loved.
Except it wasn't just light anymore.
The first time you met Arda Güler in person, he ruined a perfectly framed shot.
You were crouched by the dugout, telephoto lens aimed at the empty pitch as the sky folded into the copper of an impending sunset. The team had begun warmups and the stadium hummed,less a crowd than a living thing rising, filling the outline of the stands.
Arda jogged into view, a dark silhouette at first, the movement catching the last gold of the sun. You tracked the motion, waiting for the swing of a boot, the expression before a sprint. He glanced at the camera,maybe because you were very obvious, or maybe because the universe had a wicked sense of timing,and then, smiling like someone who had already decided the joke, he kicked the ball straight toward you.
It wasn't a hard kick. It didn't need to be. The ball rolled at your feet like a question.
You snapped reflexively, and the photograph caught him in mid-laugh,hair damp, eyes crinkled, that wide, careless grin. It was a shot you would have deleted later for composition or lighting. Instead you kept it. You kept it and you noticed how the rest of the session fell into soft focus.
He introduced himself later, as players do,hand offered, charm dialed down to something approachable.
"Arda," he said, and when you told him your name he repeated it like it fit better with his accent. "You take the photos?"
You told him yes, because saying anything else would have been ridiculous. He asked if you were new to Madrid. You said you had been in the city long enough to be lost with confidence. He laughed and asked if you liked tortilla.
" Sure," you said. "Only if you promise to make it better than the ones at the press center."
He tilted his head. "Deal. But you must teach me how you take those photos."
.
After that, Arda managed to appear in every other assignment like a recurring motif.
Matchday close-ups: he caught you adjusting the aperture and gave you a thumbs-up right when the shutter fired. Training grids: he walked between drills, dragging your attention like gravity. Team portraits: you wanted a composed, stoic lineup and he planted himself at the edge, peaceable and disruptive, leaning on the shoulder of a teammate and making an awful face just behind the captain.
You complained once, half-joking, while editing in the darkroom beneath the stadium.
"You know," you said, scrolling through a grid of near-identical images, "if you keep photobombing me like this, my editor will think I'm unprofessional."
Arda sat on the counter, the light from the monitor ghosting across his face. "Then I will be your secret unprofessionalism."
You told him you needed concentration. He offered coffee. You wanted coffee. You told him to stop talking about the coffee and start telling you where the best tortilla in Madrid was.
He told you, honestly, that he liked the noisy neighborhood places. He said the woman who owned a tucked-away bar used to scold him because he ordered too many churros as a kid. He said it like a fact and an apology.
When he wasn’t saying anything you could file, he watched the way your hands moved,precise, patient, as though you were composing with fingers more than with a camera.
"You take like you keep things safe," he said once, the doors to the locker room clapping shut behind him. "Like you're trying not to let anything fall out of the picture."
You laughed. "Maybe because I always forget to hold my own things in place."
He frowned like he meant to argue,like it was a charge against you,but instead he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was quick, nothing showy. But your chest learned the pattern of his fingers as if by rote.
.
The stadium had a way of shrinking and growing with the seasons. In winter it was a glass dome of breath and steam, in spring it opened like a promise. Under the floodlights one late autumn night, after a win that smelled like mud and victory, he found you packing up in the press room.
You were packed in tiredness,legs buzzing with adrenaline you couldn’t place. He leaned against the doorframe in a hoodie, hair still damp, the day’s exertion flatting his usually energetic face into something more sincere.
"Do you want to," he began. "Do you want to see the city at night with me? Just for a little,no cameras, no interviews. I know this great place."
You surprised yourself by saying yes.
You met him at the players' exit and the city welcomed you with a hush that felt like permission. Madrid was quieter away from the arteries of tourists and you and Arda walked through open-air cafés and under terraces of orange trees. He bought you a slice of tortilla from a stall, and you admitted, after one bite, that it was the best you’d had in months.
"I told you," he said, feigning wounded pride. "I told you anybody could cook a good tortilla, but only some people give them the right attention."
He spoke like he was teaching and like he was learning at the same time. You kept stealing glances at his profile,strong, youthful, the face of someone who had become famous before the world had taught him how to be careful with himself.
"You know a lot of photographers," he said after a while. "I see your work. You make things look like stories."
"I just try to notice," you said.
"You notice me a lot," he said, and when you looked at him, he smiled without hiding anything this time. "Maybe more than the others."
You pretended not to blush.
.
Your relationship folded itself into the small hours and the small spaces in between assignments. It was a kinship of late coffees and editing sessions where he would lean over your shoulder and point at a frame like he’d discovered a constellation. It was the way he would slip you his headphones on bus rides so you could hear what he’d been listening to before a match. It was the reckless thing where he learned to say your name softly in Turkish, and the gallant thing where he learned a few of your favorite English phrases to make you laugh.
There were complications, of course. Fame had a perimeter. Photographers were supposed to be impartial. You were supposed to be objective.
There were nights you spent apart because he had appearances and you had deadlines. There were afternoons when you read tabloids that tried to sell a story about how focused he was on his career and how that had no room for romance. Each whisper in print felt like something you had to photograph away: a rumor you wanted to catch mid-fall before it became truth.
"Ignore it," Arda would say when the headlines tasted bitter. "They will write whatever looks good on paper. You know the truth."
"The truth looks better through a lens," you said once, and he reached for your hand without a word and squeezed.
.
The night of the winter friendly, with the crowd like a low tide of sound, you were meant to take portraits by the pitch for an editorial. The lights were higher than usual, throwing halos around the players, making the grass a luminous field. You set up, adjusted, and waited for the moment you’d rehearsed in your head a hundred times.
Arda walked out last, as if on cue, hair shining with the floodlights. He caught your eye before the line formed. He winked,something quick and utterly deliberate,and instead of taking his place, he walked slowly toward you.
The manager barked into a radio. A teammate hissed at him. You heard the edge of annoyance in someone's voice, but Arda kept coming. He stopped in front of you where the world narrowed down to camera glass and breath.
"Take it," he said softly. "Take whatever you want."
You looked through the lens and you saw every flake of truth you had learned to keep. There was the boy who kicked a ball at your feet in a sunset and the man who had learned to be more careful with hearts than headlines.
You pressed the shutter.
He closed the distance, slow enough that it felt like the warmest eternity. Your hands trembled,even though you had trained them not to,and you lowered the camera. He cupped your face, thumb grazing your cheek, and kissed you as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have your world tilt toward him.
It was a quick kiss at first then softer, then certain. The stadium around you roared with applause and you laughed because that felt like the most honest noise you’d ever heard.
When you finally stepped back, he rested his forehead against yours. "You make everything look beautiful," he whispered.
"You make everything hard to photograph," you said, breathless.
He smiled.
"Then maybe I'll stop trying to keep you in the frame," he said, "and just keep you in the darkroom with me."
You thought of all your photographs: the frames that held moments like specimens, the prints you kept like small, bright truths. You thought of the way his laughter disturbed the order of a shot and how you had learned to prefer the disruption.
"Promise?" you asked.
He kissed you again, under the Santiago Bernabéu lights, and the city seemed to hold its breath.
"Promise," he said.
i have a arda güler request.
where him and the reader had a fight and she was like you are sleeping on the couch and he didnt want it at first but he was so mad that ge thought he will sleep on the couch and he slept on the couch but the reader got scared bc (idk you can think smth) and went to him to sleep with him on the couch and he woke up asked her what she's doinh and she was just cuddling with him.
thank youuuu sorry for the bad english🥹
Quilt of steam — Arda Güler.
Pairing: Arda Güler x Fem!Reader
Summary: After an argument with Arda, you make him sleep on the couch. It ended up only punishing you though, because now you were scared to sleep alone. You end up folding and join him on the couch.
Word count: 561
Disclaimer/s: arguing , anger , angst to fluff , hurt/comfort . + being scared
A/N: ahhh this req got me goood omg thank youu !! i hope it’s to your liking <3
“The couch. Now.” That was the last sentence you said to your boyfriend before calling it a night. He’d rolled his eyes, not believing you’d demand that.
meeting your boyfriend’s parents
arda güler x turkish! reader
A/N: based on this request, thank uu 🤍 my first arda fic!!
W/C: 2.175 (yes, I got ahead of myself)
HOW DARE THE REF TAKE THEIR GOAL AWAY??!!
it’s difficult to communicate with a cute boy when you don’t speak each other’s language fluently
arda güler x jude’s younger sister
A/N: missed writing so much! based on this request, thank you babes! ❤️ (physical features are not specified!)
W/C: 1.574
Can you do a really jealous kenan Plss
.
Kenan Yildiz x reader
Bf!Arda Güler Headcanons
Pairing: Arda Güler x turkish!reader
Warnings: None, this is just fluff, not proof read (English isn't my first language), Translations of the turkish text can be found as footnotes at the bottom!
A/N: MY SHAYLAAAAA omg happy birthday to my golden boy. I love him so much it's not even funny anymore😞😞 turkish reader because I am turkish and I always hate feeling like a foreigner when reading fics about him soooooo
Jealous
it’s me again yayyy thank you so much for the request hope you enjoy it i added some elements hope that’s okay💖
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request: Heyy! I think angst reader x arda guler will be good. But ended up with fluff. Since you know... He doesn't get enough time/chance to play in real madrid...
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pairing: Arda Güler x Y/N
summary: Arda knows about you having a crush on Dominik long before you even met but after the loss against Hungary he feels jealousy creeping
genre: angst to fluff
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You stood there in your seat after the game ended waiting for your boyfriend Arda to text you. Türkiye had a game against Hungary tonight and you decided to surprise and support him but things went downhill after Szoboszlai scored a penalty and the score remained like that throughout the game. You felt bad knowing Arda would be upset about the outcome and thought about ways to cheer him on once you went back to his hotel room. You were thinking about watching a movie and eating takeout when he texted you saying he’d meet you at the car park.
You thought it was strange he didn’t ask you to come down to the tunnel to meet but just figured he wanted to get out as soon as possible and replied with a simple okay making your way out. Once you reached your car he was a few rows down waiting texting on his phone.
“Hey” you timidly said not knowing how to approach the situation, he was already having a hard time at Madrid with how little he was playing and now he’d lost a game for his country and you knew he’d feel bad for it. You also weren’t dating for too long so you felt weird about the situation.
“Hi” he simply said and continued texting.
You shyly reached over to him and wrapped your arms around his torso still thinking his bad mood was all about the result and wanted nothing more than to console him but he didn’t return the hug straight away like he usually does so you pulled back with a frown.
“I know this wasn’t the outcome you hoped for but you played incredible Arda and I want you to know I’m so proud of you.” you said with a little smile but he avoided eye contact with you which made you frown deeper.
“Is something wrong?” you asked and he lifted one eyebrow like ‘are you serious’ “I mean is there something else wrong? Did I do something?”
“I don’t know. Are you more proud of him than me?”
You were completely taken aback with his question, you couldn’t even register who he was talking about.
“Who?”
“Who do you think?” he asked trying to see if your mind would go to Dominik immediately but it didn’t.
“Arda I seriously don’t know what yo… Are you talking about Dominik?” you asked finally realizing what your boyfriend was saying.
This happened a few weeks ago when one of your closest friends met Arda for the first time and being as inappropriate as she is she mentioned your years long crush on one of the Liverpool players.
“I always thought your boyfriend would have black hair, that’s your type isn’t it?” she asked while being drunk and you tried shushing her as politely as you can but she was far past the point that she could sense your uneasiness and continued.
“You know like that guy Szo- Sozobol- ugh what was it?”
“Szoboszlai?” Arda asked clearly intrigued by the conversation.
“Yesss! That’s the one she’s been obsessed with for years, she even had him on the background of her phone.” your friend continued laughing telling your boyfriend about your stupid high school fangirl crush embarrassing you utterly.
“So… Dominik Szoboszlai?” Arda asked once you were in bed that night. You covered your face with your hands when you felt your cheeks heat up with shame.
“I’m so sorry about it, she was just drunk out of her mind.” you tried excusing your friend’s behavior but couldn’t deny it was true, because it pretty much was.
“So you had him as wallpaper?”
“This is embarrassing. Please stop talking.” you begged but he continued interrogating you both to mess with you and try to understand how big was your crush but he ended up dropping the subject because it was obviously a silly celebrity crush which holds no value over your real relationship.
This was until tonight.
“So you know who I’m talking about.”
“Arda, you know that was a stupid little crush back in the day. It means nothing.” you tried reassuring him but he seemed really annoyed and this was so out of character you didn’t know how to approach it. But even though you tried your best to explain it doesn’t mean anything, he seemed convinced otherwise.
“Are you here just to see him play?” he asked and your eyes found his in shock.
“What? Do you seriously think that?” you took a step back feeling dizzy, what the hell was he accusing you of?
“No of course not…” he tried reaching for you but you held your hand up preventing him from getting closer to you. You couldn’t even understand his reaction as you were really falling in love with him and just wanted to support him. You felt tears forming in the corners of your eyes.
“Y/N I’m sorry, I just…”
“You really hurt me Arda, I think it’s best if we spend the night apart.” you whispered turning back and walking towards your car but heard footsteps behind you.
“Y/N please talk to me.” he pleaded but you kept on walking.
“Y/N!” he shouted and you stopped dead in your tracks.
“I don’t want to talk to you, I’m not the reason you lost and I’m certainly not going to take the blame for something I didn’t do. If you’re this pressed about something that happened long before we met it’s a you problem. I need some time to cool off and think. Please don’t follow me.” you said in one breath and hopped in your car not even knowing where to go.
You typed in hotels and found one in the area hoping that there was an empty room and luckily, there was. You pulled your suitcase out and put on your pajamas leaving them on the counter and hopped in the shower to think more clearly when you heard a knock on the door.
Panicking, you stepped out of the shower and put on your clothes trying not to freak out too much and asked who was there.
“It’s me” you heard Arda’s voice and immediately relaxed, you didn’t even have time to think how he found you and opened the door to reveal a disheveled looking Arda standing there.
“I was so worried.” he said and pulled you in a hasty embrace. You stumbled a little but he kept you balanced. As much as you were upset with him, you felt so much more relaxed when he’s with you and leaned into him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry…” he repeated and pressed feather like kisses all over your face and head while sitting you both down on the bed.
“I was so wrong, I know that and I know I don’t deserve you right now but I felt insecure and took it out on you. I thought you’d be more impressed by him and felt so little.” he explained and you finally understood his weird behavior all night, even though it wasn’t okay at all.
“Arda you need to tell me what’s bothering you if we want this to work.”
“I want this to work so much and I’ll do anything.” he cut you off and you smiled a little which made him also smile. He was looking into your eyes with so much intensity you felt vulnerable under his gaze but you also knew he was being genuine and trying his best.
“I love you.” he finally said and this was a first in your relationship so you were caught off guard and didn’t know how to react.
“It’s completely fine if you don’t feel comfortable enough to say it back, I swear it’s okay I just wanted you to know…” he started rambling and you cut him off with an emotional kiss. He stumbled back a little but quickly reciprocated and pulled you to his lap deepening the kiss.
“I love you too.” you smiled as you pulled back to breathe but your noses were still touching and he smiled too.
Maybe this wasn’t the best night in your relationship but it’s definitely the best moment
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i don’t know how i feel about it, i think it’s kinda cute but ughhh hope you like it please tell me you do lol if not i’m open to criticism as well🥹
why do you do this to yourself ? ────── arda is not your boyfriend, but he sure gets jealous like he is.
♡ ────── pairing : arda güler x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. reader is a university student living in madrid. situtionship!arda güler lol. might have to mention that reader is a business major but it doesn't really matter. this one's a bit suggestive towards the end, folks. ♡ ────── wordcount : 757 ♡ ────── notes : i don't know why i keep on writing jealous fics... but debut arda fic! i love him sm ♡ this is lightly based on dial drunk by noah kahan and the bolter by taylor swift, just the vibes, not the actual drunk dialing. enjoy loves ♡ masterlist.
a home in your mind ────── academic pressure. you are crying. arda tries calming you down.
♡ ────── pairing : arda güler x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. reader is a university student stressed out over some assignment!!! hurt-comfort. jude mentioned!!! ♡ ────── wordcount : 812 ♡ ────── notes : struggling doing my thesis proposal... here's some arda lol i so desperately need a study date with him!!!!! title is from on the drive home by niki, but it's not based on the song ♡ masterlist.
“Baby…”
Contrary to popular belief, a lot of footballers are actually not meatheads. Arda knows that it seems easy to equate physical advantage to a generally empty head, but football requires the same amount of mental exertion as it does physical. And, including him, not a small number of his football friends were overachievers when it comes to academic validation.
he too gentle he too much like a flower😭😭
// YUUTA OKKOTSU //
inumaki’s little sister has a crush!
-pt 1-
Forgot to share this, but finished this Maki-piece just in time for Shoppu!