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I WAS CRYING WHEN I SAW THISSS
oh my god oh my god im going insane
oh. my. god.
@unx100to ik u cant understand shit but u have to see this its so cute😞😞
Arda Güler blurb where it’s their first date and it’s just cute fluff 💟 Thank you + ur fluff writing is adorbs xx and perhaps he’s like a hand holder so like wherever they go they hold hands or whatever! <3
Our Way To Fall — Arda Güler.
Pairing: Arda Güler x Fem!Reader
Summary: First date jitters? Well, not exactly. The moment he reached for your hand, you were already dreaming up the details of your second date together.
Word Count: 550+
Disclaimer/s — Fluff, no use of Y/N. ^_^
A/N: For my beautiful gorgeous bonk, Bea again… I love you!
You were sure you wanted to see this man again.
Perhaps you reached that joyous, yet eager realization when he first knocked on your door, holding a small bouquet of your favorite flowers, white lilies. Or maybe it was when he gazed at you with such complete and utter captivation, as if you were the only person in the world. It could have even been when he couldn’t help but shower you with compliments the entire time, making you feel truly cherished and adored.
The steps to figuring that out first started when you took the flowers from his grasp, brought them to your nose to inhale their fragrance, and looked up at him with a smile, “You didn’t have to. But these are gorgeous. Thank you.”
All the man could do was let a smile spread across his face and scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. Placing the bouquet down onto a side table, you grabbed your purse and stepped outside, closing the door behind you. That was when the first compliment came in.
"You look beautiful," he finally stated, noticing how your smile seemed to brighten even more. There was nothing he wanted more than to see that sight all the time. He was sure of that.
Looking over at him as he opened the passenger side door for you, you replied, “Thank you. You clean up nice. Are you warm?”
Arda shrugged sheepishly, “Maybe too warm.”
With that, he got in, and the car ride to dinner transformed into something even more enjoyable. The two of you spent most of it laughing and talking animatedly about the things you liked, even loved. Every now and then, you'd catch him stealing glances at you when the car stopped at a red light. You were certain he wasn't listening—how could he be? Until he’d repeat what you had said for clarification, and it would literally send a flutter through your chest and into your heart.
That flutter only seemed to worsen when you arrived, another compliment flowing from his lips as if it was something he could do daily. It wasn’t hard to keep the conversation going at all. You’d say something, and he’d reply with something that’d spark up another conversation. As did you.
But no, it wasn’t then that you realized you wanted to see him again. It was when you walked side-by-side, half eaten ice-cream cones in hand, laughing at a joke he made. His eyes twinkled with amusement, and after your laughter faded, you found a bench to sit on. You had both been done with your cones when you felt the soft brush of his pinky against your own.
You looked down at your hands before turning to look at him. You were so caught up in staring at him that you almost missed the two words that left his mouth, “Can I?”
Biting your bottom lip ever-so-delicately, you took his hand, turned his palm up, and intertwined your fingers with his in a dance of connection.
Arda didn’t say anything. He just let out a contented hum and stared at the cars driving by.
It was in that moment you realized you wanted not only a second date, but something more, and he, with equal certainty, had felt the same.
Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.
DT(s) — @pedrilcvr ! ౨ৎ
i cant stop watching this someone help me HIS THIGHS
pre-season training
These two pictures are giving the same energy. I swear i'm not tripping. They are serving cunt!
i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, ARDA GÜLER SHOULDVE WENT TO BARCELONA
blud was on ts and he played a total of 0 minutes 😭🙏
i swear ancelotti is just doing all this to piss arda and endrick off atp.. LET THEM PLAAAYYYY
gruncle don’t piss me off with this lineup.
- arda on the bench and ceballos start?????
- reckless mendy start???
- he should’ve given endrick a chance and let vini sit on the bench…
i’m not gonna watch it until half time. my nerves are bad. my blood pressure is already sky high.
Society created men and god sent Arda Güler as an apology
theyre so quick to judge. also i love how all of this is so true and accurate
the way that this is accurate. ppl really treating our players like shit
how to get quads like arda güler tutorial asap ‼️
this is literally how i sat in front of the tv
how was the first half?
real they did everyone so dirty..
who directed this ucl photoshoot i just wanna talk
YESSS ME TOO🙏
idk if this is js a me thing but i absolutely LOVE this mans nose omg 🙌
HELLO????😭😭😭😭😭
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.
this is so extremely real. i thought i was the only one
arda guler is so hot sue me