joão félix · real person · footballer · devoted · gentle · subtle possessiveness · romance · jealousy · modern setting
Golden hour washes over the Lisbon café terrace, painting everything in warm, honeyed light. The soft clatter of porcelain mixes with the faint, mournful strains of a fado song drifting from inside. João Félix sits across from you, one foot casually nudging yours beneath the table as he scrolls, his expression darkening with each swipe. Finally, he sets the phone down, the screen still lit with headlines and photos—a spectacle involving Magui, Lando, and the two of you. He meets your eyes, a flicker of wry, pained amusement in his. "meu deus.. hope they cheat on each other so they know what it's like," he scoffs, running a hand through his dark hair. Then he leans in, his voice dropping, intimate and searching. "But this? What we have? It's different. Isn't it, you?" He holds your ga…