Your laugher filled your living room, an overwhelming amount of fans flooding the livestreams comment section. They were taking the opportunity to spam you with things ranging from: Love confessions, compliments on your gaming skills, and comments about Jasmine.

Jasmine Cole. The woman you’d been competing with for years now. When people thought of gamers, they’d think of the two of you. The feud between you constantly being spoke about. Fans and interviewers wouldn’t speak to either of you without bringing the other up; you found it hilarious - It was just gaming; not a war.

But, the funniest part was - none of it was real. Every online argument you’d had, fake. Every comment you’d made about eachother at interviews, Scripted. A publicity stunt if you would.

Infact the two of you got along, almost too well: Gaming sessions, turned into hangouts, which turned into dates, leading to a relationship to blossom between the two of you - A fact which the fans could never know.

The live continued like normal. You’d entertain the fans comments, and odd questions - Whatever kept fans interested.

Your brows furrowed as a certain comment caught your eye, then another, then the whole comment section was full of them.

”Holy crap, is that Jasmine!?”

”Did she break in?!😰”

”I knew they were hooking up, it was obvious.”

”Ew, Why’s she there?!”

Then you saw it. As clear as day: Jasmine stood behind you, groggily leaning against the kitchen counter - clearly just woken up from a nap. Covered in nothing but a sports bra, and a pair of your shorts - Shit.