Three Drabbles; Team of Choice: OGC Nice
Title: Trapped
Author: great_whatsit
Team of choice: OGC Nice
Prompt: Please
Character: Pippo Inzaghi
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Lies.
Note: Bobo has been living with his mum since he joined Fiorentina last summer.
"He's not here?"
Pippo loved Bobo's mother. He loved her toughness, and the accent that was just like Bobo's. And, though he'd never admit it, he loved how she needled him, just like her son did. Sometimes, though, she wasn't exactly his first-choice companion.
He didn't want to see her when he'd scored a hat trick and was feeling about 18 years old, when her son had scored a goal and things needed to be celebrated. Right now, trapped in Mrs. Vieri's kitchen, listening to her hold forth about Milan's troubles, Pippo really would have preferred the company of her son.
Title: Agradar
Author: great_whatsit
Team of choice: OGC Nice
Prompt: Please
Pairing: Ederson/Hugo Lloris
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Lies.
Sometimes, Hugo would get so hypnotized he'd forget Eder was there. Really and truly forget. Crawling (so slowly) down the body laid out under him, he'd lose himself in the sharp taste of the skin, in the thrilling (gratifying) predictability of the way the muscles it covered jumped and contracted under his mouth. When he was feeling brave, he'd hold the body down, and use just his his tongue and his teeth. He'd shut out the sounds (so many sounds) and just taste and smell, not even remembering (until he felt hands in his hair) there was someone else there.
Title: Missing
Author: great_whatsit
Team of choice: OGC Nice
Prompt: Please
Pairing: Zlatan Ibrahimovic/Sandro Nesta
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Lies.
Note: Zlatan's in Sweden rehabbing his knee; the odds of him playing in the derby are slimmer than slim.
He could see the grin as if it was right next to him; the image alone was almost enough to make Sandro hang up.
"NESTA! What a pleasant surprise."
Sandro clenched his jaw and waited for the gloating to end, getting faint satisfaction from the knowledge that Zlatan was picturing his disgust.
"So," he said, unable to keep the mocking tone from his voice. "How's Sweden?"
Sandro couldn't hear anything -- not smirking, not fidgeting, not anything. It made him very nervous. "Zla-"
"I'll be there."
Sandro nodded, breathing a sigh that he refused to define. He hung up the phone.
Author: great_whatsit
Team of choice: OGC Nice
Prompt: Please
Character: Pippo Inzaghi
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Lies.
Note: Bobo has been living with his mum since he joined Fiorentina last summer.
"He's not here?"
Pippo loved Bobo's mother. He loved her toughness, and the accent that was just like Bobo's. And, though he'd never admit it, he loved how she needled him, just like her son did. Sometimes, though, she wasn't exactly his first-choice companion.
He didn't want to see her when he'd scored a hat trick and was feeling about 18 years old, when her son had scored a goal and things needed to be celebrated. Right now, trapped in Mrs. Vieri's kitchen, listening to her hold forth about Milan's troubles, Pippo really would have preferred the company of her son.
Title: Agradar
Author: great_whatsit
Team of choice: OGC Nice
Prompt: Please
Pairing: Ederson/Hugo Lloris
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Lies.
Sometimes, Hugo would get so hypnotized he'd forget Eder was there. Really and truly forget. Crawling (so slowly) down the body laid out under him, he'd lose himself in the sharp taste of the skin, in the thrilling (gratifying) predictability of the way the muscles it covered jumped and contracted under his mouth. When he was feeling brave, he'd hold the body down, and use just his his tongue and his teeth. He'd shut out the sounds (so many sounds) and just taste and smell, not even remembering (until he felt hands in his hair) there was someone else there.
Title: Missing
Author: great_whatsit
Team of choice: OGC Nice
Prompt: Please
Pairing: Zlatan Ibrahimovic/Sandro Nesta
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Lies.
Note: Zlatan's in Sweden rehabbing his knee; the odds of him playing in the derby are slimmer than slim.
He could see the grin as if it was right next to him; the image alone was almost enough to make Sandro hang up.
"NESTA! What a pleasant surprise."
Sandro clenched his jaw and waited for the gloating to end, getting faint satisfaction from the knowledge that Zlatan was picturing his disgust.
"So," he said, unable to keep the mocking tone from his voice. "How's Sweden?"
Sandro couldn't hear anything -- not smirking, not fidgeting, not anything. It made him very nervous. "Zla-"
"I'll be there."
Sandro nodded, breathing a sigh that he refused to define. He hung up the phone.