Juventus Family Visit
Dad!Kenan Yildiz x Mom!Reader
The house was quiet — unusually quiet. The newborn boy had finally drifted to sleep in his bassinet, his tiny hands curled into fists beneath the soft white blanket. YN sat on the couch, sipping warm tea, exhausted but glowing. Across the room, Kenan hovered, arms crossed but eyes soft, watching their son like he was the most precious thing on earth.
The doorbell rang.
“Don’t wake him,” Kenan muttered automatically, padding barefoot to the door.
Outside stood Dušan Vlahović, Andrea Cambiaso, Nicolò Savona, Weston McKennie, Teun Koopmeiners, and Khéphren Thuram. Each held a gift bag or box, smiles wide but cautious, knowing the baby was still so small.
“Can we come in?” Cambiaso whispered dramatically.
Kenan smirked and waved them in. “Shoes off. And quiet — he’s sleeping.”
The moment they stepped inside, their eyes landed on the tiny baby. Silence fell even Vlahović, who stopped talking, just stared.
“No way…” McKennie murmured softly. “He’s so… small.”
Nicolò leaned down, hands on his knees. “And already looks like you, Kenan. Poor kid.”
Kenan rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding his grin. “He’s cuter than me. Admit it.”
“Way cuter,” McKennie teased, snapping a quick photo of the baby’s little foot sticking out of the blanket. “I’m not even posting his face — just this foot is about to break the internet.”
The baby stirred, letting out a tiny whimper. Instantly, Kenan was there — scooping him up with practiced ease, rocking gently. YN smiled from the couch, watching her usually confident husband transform into the softest version of himself.
“Hey, hey,” Kenan whispered in Turkish, pressing a kiss to the boy’s temple. “It’s okay, Baba’s here.”
Everyone froze at the tenderness in his voice.
“You’re a proper dad now,” Cambiaso teased quietly. “Didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”
“Shut up,” Kenan muttered, though he couldn’t stop smiling.
“Can we hold him?” Vlahović asked carefully, eyes wide.
Kenan hesitated for a split second — the protective side of him still strong — but finally nodded. “Sit down. And support his head.”
One by one, the teammates took turns holding him. Thuram whispered something about “future captain,” while Teun swore the baby already had “striker legs.” The softest little giggle escaped the baby, and everyone froze.
“Did he just laugh?” Weah whispered.
“He doesn’t even laugh for us yet,” YN admitted, eyes wide.
Fifteen minutes in, the apartment was filled with soft chatter and quiet laughter. Cambiaso placed a tiny Juventus bib around the baby “for future matchdays.” Vlahović promised to teach him free kicks when he could walk.
“He’s gonna be spoiled,” YN laughed.
“That’s the plan,” Nicolò grinned. “Between all of us, he’s never touching the ground — someone will always be holding him.”
Kenan shook his head but couldn’t help the warmth in his chest. His teammates weren’t just teammates — they were family. And now, they loved his son too.
Before leaving, the boys gathered near the door for one last look. “We won’t post his face,” McKennie promised, gesturing to the baby sleeping against YN’s chest. “But can we share the back of the jersey? Just the name?”
Kenan hesitated, glancing at YN. She nodded softly. “Back is okay.”
Minutes later, Juventus fans would lose their minds over a simple photo: a baby wearing a tiny kit, “YILDIZ” across the back. Face hidden. Safe. But loved.
Kenan closed the door behind his teammates and turned back to his wife and son. For once, the world felt quiet. Just them.
This was Requested.🫶🏼
