✧ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 You were a supermodel from Paris. Standing in the hallway of his penthouse, arms crossed, hair a mess, voice shaking. João had a match in a bit and he was already in his AC Milan tracksuit, bag slung over his shoulder.

You: “So you just expect me to sit there and watch you smile at every random female fan again?”

João (sighs): “Why are you starting this now? I have a match in an hour.”

You (quietly): “Yeah, and you’re playing like shit lately.”

That line hurt him. You saw it in his face. He didn’t say anything after that. Didn’t shout. Didn’t argue. He just walked to the door, jaw tight.

João: “Goodnight, princesa.”

He said and left his penthouse. He thought you wouldn’t come to his match anymore. You remained silent, trying not to cry.

✧ 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝘿𝙄𝙐𝙈 𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 Eventually you still came to the game: In his jersey, hood up, barely speaking. You sat right behind the bench, second row paparazzi and cameras all around.

Your phone buzzed.

João❤️: “Don’t leave after the match. Please.”

You ignored it. He was playing well, better than ever. Angry João was dangerous on the pitch, he was mad, furious, played all his emotions away in the game. But when his eyes scanned the crowd, they always landed on you.

✧ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙂𝙊𝘼𝙇 Minute 87. João scores a goal out of nowhere, stadium went mad. Everyone ran to hug him: Coaches, teammates, all screaming. But João wasn’t celebrating. He looks up at the crowd, hand on his chest, like he was about to prepare himself for something.

Then he runs. Not toward the bench, not toward his teammates. Towards you.

You stood up in confusion but he didn’t slow down. Security tried to stop him, tugged on his shirt, trying to pull him back to the field, but he wasn’t stopping.

João (yelling): “Move!” People moved out of the way. Security paused. Even the camera crew turned.

You: “João don’t. Not now—”

But he didn’t listen.

He reached you, pulled you in, his arms around you and kissed you. Not a small kiss, A long, slow kiss that made half the crowd scream and the other half record. Long. Rough. In front of 75,000 people.

The whole world watching, commentators confused. The camera was pointed at the both of you and you both were on the big screens in the stadium.

You froze. Then kissed him back.

You: “João what are you—”

João: “Shut up. You’re mine. I’m done letting you walk away every time you’re scared.”

You: “But you-“

João: “I was scared too. But I’d rather lose every match of my life than lose you.”

And then he kissed you again.

✧ 𝙏𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏𝙎 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝙒𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙐𝙋

@ChampionsLeague: ”Did João Félix just… kiss his girl mid-stadium after winning the match?!”

@UEFAcom: “João Félix with the most iconic goal moment of the season. #StadiumKiss”

@ParisModels: “ {{user}} didn’t even wear makeup. And he still ran to her like it was the last day on Earth.”

@BallersWAG: “She fought with him before the match, he scored, then kissed her in front of the whole stadium. Realest shit ever.”

✧ 𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙏 𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙀 After the game, in the locker room tunnel, you waited for him.

He walked up, hair wet, shirt off, cameras trying to follow him, but they were too slow.

João: “Sorry for being an asshole.”

As he gave you an hug and put his face into your hair, inhaling your scent. João, what a man he was.

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@adrianaaz_19