Through The Storm

where are the joao felix fics at bc im only on this app for fics and no one is making them , that’s all i want for christmas gang 😔

as a palestinian wallah the whole genocide is so upsetting , please donate to the gofundme !! 🍉

Hello 👋,

I hope this message finds you well. My name is Aziz, and I’m reaching out with a heartfelt plea to help my family find safety and reunite with our mother. 😞

The ongoing war in Gaza has torn my family apart. My mother and newborn sister are stranded in Egypt, while I, along with the rest of my sex family members, am trapped in the midst of the genocide in Gaza. We have not only been separated but have also lost our home and are enduring unimaginable hardships. 💔

Your support can make a difference. Whether by reading our story, donating, or sharing our campaign with others, you can help us reunite, find safety, and start anew. 🙏🕊

Thank you, from the depths of my heart, for your kindness, compassion, and solidarity during this difficult time. ❤🍉

https://gofund.me/58268669 🔗

people in gaza deserve to have a chance at a life and as we all know, this chance is being taken from them by force. so if you’re in the position to help in any way, even just by speaking out, please do so🍉 you can start by visiting aziz’s profile to help his family and if you have the means to do so, make sure to donate❤️

ps: if you’re pro-genocide (pro-israel) or even neutral on the matter, please unfollow me, you have no place on my page. spend some time educating yourself‼️

Maybeeee part 3 where they actually meet irl pookie? 🥺💙

But hear me out, they meet on accident not a planned date but wtv you feel like luv we trust in you 🛐

❦ - one wrong digit. part 3.

summary:: fate is real? isn’t it? or is it just a concept we believe from movies. idk bro and neither does joao.

warnings:: SO when i started this series, joao was still a chelsea player so we have to stick to this plot line to save my dignity!

writers note:: happy valentine’s day loves! this woulda taken me ages but i locked in bc this is my valentine’s day gift to you lot! so enjoy this and i lowkey had to speed up the plot so yk!

tags!:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

it was a cold day in kensington where you lived but you had to go to chelsea just for some errands. in the end you stumbled into a cute cafe on the edge of the road.

you don’t expect to see him. not today, not like this.

one second, you’re just going about your day, lost in your own world, and the next, you hear his voice. not through a phone speaker. not filtered by distance. but real,right there.

your brain takes a second to process it. because it’s one thing to facetime someone every day, to hear their voice in your ear at night, to recognize the way they laugh, the way they tease, the way they say your name like it belongs to them.

but it’s another thing entirely to see them in person.

you stop in your tracks, heart hammering, eyes scanning the cafe like you’re hallucinating. but no, he’s right there, standing near the counter, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone, completely unaware that you’re staring at him like the world just tilted on its axis.

you should say something. you should.

instead, your phone buzzes.

joão: what are you doing right now?

your breath catches. you glance up at him again. it’s so weird, seeing him like this, taller than you imagined, the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, how his hoodie is slightly oversized like it always is in your calls.

he still hasn’t noticed you.

nothing. why?

you watch as he reads it. he types for a second, then stops. then starts again.

joão: just wondering.

he lifts his head, eyes flicking up for just a second.

and that’s when it happens.

his gaze meets yours.

for a moment, neither of you move. you don’t breathe. he doesn’t either.

then, slowly, like he’s making sure you’re real, he lowers his phone.

‘no way,’ he murmurs.

you let out a breathless laugh, lost for words

his lips part slightly, like he doesn’t know whether to smile or freak out. ‘this is..’ he cuts himself off, shaking his head. ‘i was literally just texting you.’

you hold up your phone. ‘yeah. saw that.’

he laughs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. ‘okay, this is crazy.’

‘a little bit.’

‘like, what are the odds?’

‘apparently very low,’ you say, eyes still wide. ‘yet here we are.’

he lets out a disbelieving chuckle, then tilts his head at you, something softer in his expression now. ‘so… do we acknowledge that this is probably fate?’

you pretend to think. ‘hmm. or just a very, very weird coincidence.’

he smirks. ‘so, fate.’

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.

he takes a small step closer, hesitates for half a second, then grins. ‘hi.’

and just like that, you realise, this? whatever this is? it’s real. and it’s happening.

HELLLO TIS I

okay so no.1 the theme ate SO HARD??? im drooling and i am on my KNEES

anyhow here to req a joao fic !!

so like what if reader is a ballerina or figure skater and she obvs comes home with like cuts and bruises from training and comps and stuff and basically joao makes thee BIGGEST fuss over it

like it can be treated with time but no. that man will bring a whole medic bag to treat the TINIEST cut and will overreact to every single injury she has !

this is so shitty but i requested this to someone else *uhm uhm evelina uhm uhm* and she has NOT written it yet so i'm frolicking here

you can ignore this if you want bc the idea is shit but yeah idk i js wanted to req something

BYEYEYYE HAVE A GOOD DAY / NIGHT AND ILYYYYY <33

MWAHHHH

❦ - delicate.

summary:: well there isn’t much to summarise bro 💔.

warnings:: none?

writers notes:: first and foremost i love this req and im tryna make my fics longer but idk how to drag it on yk? but i think if somewhat figured it out! ALSO EVE I MANAGED TO DO IT BEFORE YOU 👅👅👅👅👅👅👅.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb

joão swore he almost had a heart attack the first time he saw them.

the tiny, angry red cuts littering your feet and ankles, some fading into soft pink scars, others fresh from your last competition. you had always told him ballet was tough, that it wasn’t just twirling around in pretty dresses, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

you were sitting on the couch, legs stretched over his lap, casually scrolling through your phone like nothing was wrong. meanwhile, he was staring at your feet like they had personally offended him.

‘what the hell is this?’ he blurted out, his fingers hovering over one particularly deep cut near your ankle.

you glanced at him, unfazed. ‘what’s what?’

‘this,’ he practically whined, gesturing wildly at your feet. ‘why do you look like you’ve been fighting for your life?’

you snorted. ‘joão, relax. they’re just cuts from my pointe shoes. they’ll heal.’

‘heal?’ he repeated, horrified. ‘how long have they been like this?’

you shrugged. ‘i don’t know. it happens all the time.’

his jaw dropped. ‘all the time?’

you sighed, putting your phone down. ‘it’s normal, babe. every ballerina deals with it. my feet just need time to recover between competitions.’

joão wasn’t hearing any of it.

‘this isn’t normal. this is self-destruction. why didn’t you tell me?’

‘because i knew you’d react like this.’

he scoffed. ‘of course i’m reacting like this! you’re literally injured and acting like it’s nothing.’

you groaned, throwing your head back against the couch. ‘joão, they’re fine. it’s not like i broke something. they’ll be healed in a few days.’

but he was already shaking his head, carefully lifting your foot to examine it closer.

‘you should’ve told me,’ he muttered, brows furrowed in concern.

‘what would you have done?’ you teased. ‘wrap me in bubble wrap?’

he didn’t answer, which told you exactly what you needed to know.

you laughed, cupping his cheek. ‘you’re ridiculous, you know that?’

‘you’re the ridiculous one,’ he shot back, still frowning at your feet. ‘how can you just ignore pain like this?’

‘because i have to. it comes with the sport.’

he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

‘so what, you just suffer in silence?’

you bit your lip. ‘i wouldn’t call it suffering. it’s just part of the process. like how you play with bruises or minor sprains sometimes.’

joão blinked, then scowled. ‘not the same thing.’

‘it’s literally the same thing.’

he huffed, still clearly displeased.

‘okay, but do you at least take care of them? like, properly?’

you hesitated for half a second, and that was all the answer he needed.

‘you don’t, do you?’ he accused.

‘joão—’

‘unbelievable.’

before you could stop him, he was already up, marching toward the bathroom.

you sighed, knowing exactly what was coming.

he returned moments later with a first-aid kit, a determined look on his face.

‘babe, really?’ you groaned.

‘yes, really. you clearly need someone to take care of you since you won’t do it yourself.’

you rolled your eyes but let him take your foot in his hands. he was surprisingly gentle, his fingers light as he dabbed at the cuts with antiseptic wipes.

he paused when you flinched, looking up at you with wide eyes.

‘does it hurt?’

‘not really.’

his glare told you he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t argue. instead, he carefully applied ointment to each cut, blowing softly on your skin like it would somehow make the sting go away.

you watched him work, your chest tightening.

‘you really don’t have to do this,’ you whispered.

he glanced up, his gaze softening. ‘i want to.’

you smiled, threading your fingers through his hair.

‘you’re a little dramatic, you know that?’

he snorted. ‘yeah? well, you’re a little reckless, so i guess we balance each other out.’

you laughed, letting him finish bandaging your feet.

when he was done, he pressed a kiss to each foot before meeting your gaze.

‘no more competitions for a while, right?’

‘not for a few weeks.’

‘good. because i’m making sure you actually rest this time.’

‘yes, doctor félix,’ you teased.

he smirked. ‘damn right.’

he pulled you into his lap, arms wrapping around you like he needed to keep you safe from the world.

you sighed, relaxing into him.

maybe having someone fuss over you wasn’t so bad after all.

but joão wasn’t done.

for the next two days, he treated you like you were made of glass. he wouldn’t let you walk barefoot around the apartment, claiming the floors were ‘too rough.’ he brought you socks, ice packs, pillows, anything he thought might help, even though you insisted you were fine.

‘joão, i can literally walk perfectly. i danced on these feet last week,’ you reminded him.

he scoffed, tossing you another pillow. ‘yeah, and look where that got you.’

‘oh my god.’

he followed you around, ready to catch you at the slightest sign of discomfort. if you so much as winced, he was at your side in seconds.

‘are you okay?’

‘joão, i stubbed my toe.’

‘that’s how it starts!’

you groaned, shoving his face away.

but as much as he annoyed you, you knew it came from love.

late at night, when you were curled up in bed, he would trace the scars on your ankles with gentle fingers, his touch barely there.

‘you work so hard,’ he murmured against your skin.

‘so do you.’

‘yeah, but i don’t bleed for it.’

you turned in his arms, brushing your lips over his.

‘this is what i love, joão, and i know you hate seeing me hurt, but it’s part of what makes me strong.’

he exhaled, pulling you even closer. ‘i just wish i could take the pain for you.’

you smiled, tucking your head under his chin.

‘you already do, in your own way.’

he kissed the top of your head, whispering, ‘always.’

and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to carry the weight alone.

YOU GET IT BRO WTF HAPPENED

ykw i was watching a video of gavi walking and ive realised how fucked his legs are like first of all i’m literally taller than him and second of all he walks like my granddad what has happened to the poor boy 💔.

STOP they are literally like ( ) I THINK ABOUT THIS DAILY. who did this to my sweet boy?? (ifykyk)

Please make on with kenan and how he has a model gf and gets jealous when fans ship her and her co-workers saying they have more chemistry then her and kenan and likes he’s jealous when reader tells him “I have a kelvin clain shoot with __” and he’s just angry and jealous and then you can do the rest

❦ - ‘who’s jeans..?’

summary:: you’re a famous model dating kenan yildiz but he gets jealous when you’re set to model with a guy that people have been shipping you with on the internet.

warnings:: self doubt, idfk atp

writers note:: okay so i wanna get as much done before school starts as possible but still please feel free to continue requesting bc i read all of them as soon as i get them and i love them smmmm! ALSO NOTE TO MENTION THAT THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PUBLISHED LIKE 4 HOYRS AGO??

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added or removed!

kenan never considered himself the jealous type. he trusted you, knew you loved him, and never doubted it, until the internet started saying otherwise.

it started small, fans commenting under your instagram posts, comparing you and your co stars, the models you worked with. ‘they have so much chemistry,’ they’d say. ‘they’d make such a perfect couple.’

at first, he ignored it. he knew the industry, knew how people talked. but then, the edits started popping up. tiktok after tiktok of you laughing with another model, posing together, staged moments turned into something more by eager fans. ‘this is what real chemistry looks like,’ someone commented under one. ‘way better than her and kenan.’

he never let it show. never mentioned it. but the frustration built up, simmering just beneath the surface.

and then, one night, you were lying in bed beside him, scrolling through your emails, when you spoke, casual, unaware of the storm brewing inside him.

‘i have a calvin klein shoot with gabriel next week.’

he stiffened. ‘who?’

you glanced at him, confused by his tone. ‘gabriel, why?’

he scoffed, shaking his head. ‘of course it’s him.’

you frowned. ‘kenan, what’s wrong?’

he turned to you, jaw tight. ‘do you even see what people say about you two? or do you just ignore it?’

your brows furrowed. ‘kenan, it’s just work.’

he laughed, but there was no humor in it. ‘yeah? because the internet seems to think you two should be together instead of us.’

you sighed, placing your phone down. ‘kenan, you know that’s not true.’

but he just looked away, arms crossed, jealousy burning in his chest.

you reach for his arm, fingers curling around his bicep gently, but he doesn’t relax. his jaw is still clenched, gaze fixed on a point far away, lost in his thoughts.

'kenan,' you murmur, shifting closer to him, your thigh brushing against his under the covers. 'look at me.'

he hesitates before finally meeting your eyes, and the frustration there twists something in your chest. he looks vulnerable beneath the anger, and that vulnerability makes your heart ache.

'i don’t care what they say,' you say softly, your fingers tracing slow circles on his arm. 'they don’t know us. they see a picture, a video, and think they understand. but they don’t.'

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. 'yeah, but it’s everywhere. i open my phone and it’s just… him. you. people saying you should be with him instead of me. like i’m some... placeholder.'

'your brain is lying to you,' you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. 'you’re not a placeholder. you’re it for me, kenan.'

he shakes his head, still not fully convinced, and you sigh, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. 'you know how many people tell me i’m lucky to be with you? how many girls would kill to be in my place?' you pause, lips brushing against his jaw. 'but i don’t care about them. i care about you. about us.'

he softens a bit, his hand finally coming to rest on your thigh. 'it’s just... hard not to get in my head about it.'

'i know,' you whisper. 'but next week? when i’m at that shoot? i’ll be thinking about how i get to come home to you. how no camera or photoshoot can compare to this.' you gesture between you two. 'this is real. everything else is just noise.'

his lips quirk up at the corners, and you can see the tension easing from his shoulders. 'you really have a way of shutting me up, huh?'

'one of my many talents,' you tease, grinning when he finally laughs.

he pulls you into his arms then, burying his face in your neck. 'i just hate the idea of anyone thinking they could be better for you.'

'nobody is,' you promise, threading your fingers through his hair. 'nobody even comes close.'

he hums, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. 'just... promise me you won’t fall for him when he starts flexing or whatever during that shoot.'

you snort, smacking his shoulder playfully. 'please. you really think anyone else can compete with you? have you looked in a mirror, kenan? unfair levels of handsome.'

'you’re biased,' he mumbles, though his tone is lighter now, more playful.

'yeah,' you agree, 'biased because i’m in love with you.'

he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes searching yours. 'yeah?'

'yeah,' you nod. 'so no more jealousy, okay? or at least... less of it. you’re too pretty to be frowning this much.'

he grins, finally fully relaxing. 'fine. but i’m picking you up from that shoot. just to make sure this guy knows you’re taken.'

'love when you get all possessive,' you tease, leaning in to kiss him softly. 'but seriously, you have nothing to worry about.'

'guess i just really like you or something,' he murmurs against your lips.

'good,' you smile, 'because i really like you too. even when you’re being a jealous dork.'

he laughs again, pulling you tighter against him. 'just don’t make me fight a model, okay? i can’t have that on my record.'

'no promises,' you joke, kissing him once more as the tension between you finally melts away.

gang i got a req to write a joao felix fic and honestly im contemplating whether i should start writing one bc NO ONE IS MAKING JOAO FICS BRO 💔 so uhhh lmk and give me requests i’ll be making fics ab anyone atp as long as y’all will read it

could you please please please write a cute fic about joão x reader and it’s like reader is graduating university or something but joão has a game so he can’t make it so then reader is annoyed at his but he ends up ditching his game for her🥺😫

love your writing so much!!!!

❦ - priorities.

summary:: atp i’m gonna stop summarising it bc the req is lit the summary 💔.

warnings:: none

writers note:: i’m not writing these in order i’m lit doing in in whatever’s easiest bc i have LOADS in my drafts that i need to finish but im setting it aside bc it’s ramadan

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

the moment you saw the text, your heart sank.

joão: babe, i’m so sorry, but i can’t make it to your graduation.

you stared at your phone, reading the message over and over, hoping it would somehow change.

you knew this was a possibility. football was his career, his life, and sometimes that meant missing important things. but this? this wasn’t just anything. this was your day. the one day you wanted him there more than anything.

you: seriously?
you: joão, this is my graduation.

three dots appeared. then disappeared. then reappeared again.

joão: i know, amor. i hate this. but it’s an important game.

you clenched your jaw, shoving your phone into your pocket before you said something you’d regret.

fine. whatever.

if he wanted to put football first, that was his choice.

but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

you went through the motions, getting dressed, fixing your cap, taking photos with your family, but your heart wasn’t in it. the whole time, you kept thinking about how there should’ve been an extra seat saved for joão. how he should’ve been there, cheering for you, smiling at you with that proud look he always got when you accomplished something big.

instead, he was miles away, playing a game that would happen a hundred more times, while you only graduated once.

but fine. fine.

you weren’t going to let this ruin your day.

except.

when you walked onto the stage, shaking hands, accepting your diploma, when you looked out into the crowd, scanning the faces,

you saw him.

right there, sitting between your parents, looking slightly out of breath but beaming at you like you’d just won the champions league.

your steps faltered. for a second, you thought you were imagining it. but no—he was there.

your stomach flipped. your heart pounded. and then you had to keep moving, walking off the stage, back to your seat, your mind reeling the entire time.

he ditched his game.

for you.

after the ceremony, you found him before he could find you.

‘you’re insane,’ you said, staring at him.

joão grinned. ‘nice to see you too, grad.’

‘joão.’ you crossed your arms. ‘you had a game.’

‘yeah,’ he shrugged. ‘but you had this.’

your heart melted. ‘but your coach—’

‘will kill me? probably,’ he admitted. ‘but i don’t care. this was more important.’

and just like that, every ounce of frustration you’d felt earlier vanished.

because this was what mattered. not the missed game, not the schedule conflicts—just this. him choosing you.

so instead of arguing, you did what you’d been wanting to do all day.

you kissed him.

right there, in the middle of the crowd, with your diploma still clutched in your hand.

and when you pulled back, breathless, joão just smiled.

‘congrats, amor.’

Hiii!! I've been thinking about this for a while, and I feel like you're the best person to write it. Something where the reader and Kenan are getting involved, spending time together, but no one knows. They don’t follow each other on Instagram and try not to like each other’s posts so no one gets suspicious. She told him it would be the best way to avoid gossip since she’s the daughter of a famous retired football player and wants to keep things low-key. But after a night together, Kenan tells her he's tired of hiding, that he wants her at his games, and that he doesn't care about all that. Still, she keeps avoiding it. There's an important match in two days, and he really wants her to be there. Then, out of nowhere, her dad decides to visit and takes the chance to watch the game. She texts Kenan, telling him that his wish is coming true—she’ll be there, and no one will suspect anything. The game is amazing, and she ends up appearing on the big screen next to her father. Those images start circulating on football pages because everyone is fascinated by how stunning the ex-player’s daughter is. This brings a lot of attention to her, and suddenly, some bolder footballers start following her. Kenan does not like that…

I feel like there could be more to this, but I can’t think of an ending. I know you can turn this into gold!

❦ - hidden in plain sight.

summary:: what the req says + i honestly wouldn’t be able to tell u bc i didn’t proofread this and i wrote it like last week (idek if this even follows the req but im posting this otw to school?)

warnings:: uhhh none

writers note:: RIGHT so i think im people favourite kenan writer bc the reqs just keep coming (i love you guys pls don’t ever stop my cuties!) anyways enjoy 💔.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb ; lmk if you wanna be added or removed!

kenan leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching as you slip one of his hoodies over your bare shoulders. it’s too big, the sleeves hanging past your fingertips, but you wear it anyway. you always do. the early morning light filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow on your skin, making the moment feel softer than it really is.

you’ve spent the night together, again, but as always, you’ll be gone before the world wakes up. it’s your unspoken rule.

but something feels different this morning. there’s a weight in the air, something unspoken lingering between you. you can feel kenan’s eyes on you as you tie your hair into a loose ponytail, as you reach for your bag. normally, he lets you go without a fight. normally, he kisses you once more, watches you walk out the door, and waits for the next time.

but today, he doesn’t just let it go.

‘you really think this is still working?’ his voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it.

you pause, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. ‘what do you mean?’

‘this. us. hiding like this.’

you turn to look at him, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes, frustration, longing, something deeper than either of you have ever acknowledged out loud.

he steps forward, his hands slipping around your waist, pulling you closer. ‘i want you at my games. i want to see you in the stands, wearing my jersey, cheering for me. i want to go out with you without having to think twice about who’s watching.’ his fingers tighten just slightly, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. ‘and i don't care who knows.’

your heart clenches, but you force yourself to shake your head. ‘kenan… you know why we do this. the second people find out, it won’t be about us anymore. it’ll be about my dad, about gossip, about every little thing i do. and then there’s your career-‘

‘my career?’ he scoffs, his jaw clenching. ‘you think i give a damn about what people say? i want you. that’s it.’

you look up at him, searching his face for something, understanding, patience, anything to make this easier. but all you see is frustration and something deeper, something that scares you.

‘kenan…’ your voice is soft, uncertain.

‘no. i’m tired of this, babe.’ his hands tighten on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away just like every other morning. ‘i want you there. i want you to be able to post a picture of us without thinking twice. i want to hold your hand in public without looking over my shoulder.’

you want that too. god, you do. but it’s not that simple. it’s never been that simple.

‘please,’ he says, voice lower now. ‘come to my game.’

you don’t answer. you just press a kiss to his jaw and step back, reaching for your bag. ‘i’ll see you later, kenan.’

he watches as you leave, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists like he’s fighting the urge to chase after you. but he doesn’t. he never does.

two days later.

you’ve been avoiding the topic. every time your phone lights up with kenan’s name, you hesitate before answering, knowing exactly what he wants to say.

then, out of nowhere, your dad calls.

‘thought i’d come visit for a few days,’ he says casually. ‘been a while since i saw you. figured we could catch up, and… oh, i got us tickets to that big juventus match. i know you don’t care much, but come on, it’ll be fun.’

your heart stops.

kenan’s game.

the universe has a twisted sense of humor.

when you text kenan, your hands are shaking, half from nerves, half from something else.

you’re getting your wish. i’ll be at the game. no one will suspect a thing.

his reply is instant.

finally.

match day.

the stadium is packed, the energy electric. cameras flash everywhere, fans wave banners, the roar of the crowd vibrates through your chest. you sit next to your dad, pretending this is just another game, just another night. but it’s not. you know it. and kenan knows it too.

you try not to look for him, but it’s impossible. every time he gets the ball, every time he makes a play, you feel his presence like gravity pulling you in. and then, in a moment so brief you almost think you imagined it, he looks up, right at you.

you don’t breathe.

he smirks. just for a second. just for you.

then the screen shifts.

your face. your dad’s. plastered across the big screen for the entire stadium to see.

your stomach drops.

your dad laughs, nudging your arm. ‘guess they like seeing an old legend in the crowd, huh?’

you force a smile, but your pulse is racing.

the internet moves fast. by the time the game ends, pictures are everywhere, sports pages, football accounts, gossip sites. ex-player’s stunning daughter spotted at big match. the comments flood in. admiration. curiosity. and then… attention. the kind you didn’t want.

your notifications blow up. blue check accounts start following you. some of them are footballers, bold enough to slip into your dms, dropping fire emojis, compliments, invitations.

and kenan?

he’s livid.

later that night.

you’re in your apartment when he shows up, not even bothering to knock.

‘so that’s what it takes for you to show up at one of my games? your dad bringing you?’ his voice is sharp, but underneath it, there’s something else. jealousy. frustration. something that makes your chest tighten.

you cross your arms, shifting your weight. ‘kenan, don’t—’

‘don’t what? act like i didn’t see how many guys suddenly started following you? or how you ignored my texts but had time to post?’

‘oh my god, are you serious right now?’ you let out a short, humorless laugh. ‘this is exactly why i didn’t want us to go public. the second people know, it becomes a thing.’

he steps closer, his jaw clenched. ‘this isn’t about people knowing. it’s about you acting like you don’t want to be seen with me.’

that hits harder than you expect. you open your mouth, then close it, unsure what to say.

kenan shakes his head. ‘you think hiding protects us, but all it does is push me away.’

you swallow hard, because deep down, you know he’s right.

‘you’re mine,’ he says, voice lower now, rough with emotion. ‘and i want people to know that. so tell me right now. do you want this or not?’

the answer is easy. it’s always been easy.

you step closer, press your hands to his chest, feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips. ‘of course i want this, kenan.’

his lips crash into yours before you can say anything else, months of frustration, longing, and unspoken words pouring into the kiss. he backs you against the wall, hands firm on your waist, like he’s trying to make up for every second he’s had to pretend you weren’t his.

when you finally pull away, breathless, he smirks. ‘good. because next time i look up in the stands, you better be there, and not because your dad brought you.’

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. ‘fine. but if i show up, i’m wearing your jersey.’

kenan grins, hands still tight on your waist. ‘now that’s what i like to hear.’