we apologize for our streamer - sailboating (2024)

It’s 2:45AM when Glitch streamer Joker420 signs off and sends his chat into the void. Most streams can last until at least 4AM, but he had to call off his Valuerant solo queue when his teammates kept throwing game after game, sending him deeper into a pit of despair. Continuously top fragging sounds good on paper, sure, but he would’ve liked to win at least once.

He’ll just have to wait until his friends are awake to play as a team. Based on the activity of his offline chat, Oracle seems to be the only one dwelling at the late night/early morning hour.

Degenerates, all of them. They expect Joker to be up bright and early when their sleep schedules are just as bad. Or they all live in different timezones. That’s an equally likely possibility.

Akira sighs as he leans back in his chair, his spine tense after slouching over his keyboard for so long. He needs to relax after a strenuous, demanding day of work. Being bullied and/or thirsted over by a chat of 30k viewers is not for the faint of heart. Combined with his pro-level Valuerant gameplay, it’s a miracle he hasn’t dropped dead from being overworked.

So Akira unwinds by partaking in his favorite pastime: watching his friends’ streams and joining in on the bullying taking place in their chats.

The only issue, however, is Akira is a massive degenerate with a sleep schedule akin to a middle school boy on summer vacation. None of his friends are live, none of his favorite streamers are live, not even the local animal sanctuary that livestreams their cats 24/7 is live. They must be having technical difficulties.

“f*ck.”

Akira deflates as he refreshes his Glitch timeline, holding onto false hope something will jump out eventually. Ann, Akira’s favorite beauty streamer, isn’t doing any cosplay streams at this hour. Yusuke, Akira’s favorite art streamer, is offline as well. There’s no sign of Haru, Akira’s favorite Animal Passing streamer. Makoto, Akira’s favorite fighting game streamer, is nowhere to be found. Sumire, Akira’s favorite mukbang streamer, is definitely sound asleep. Even Ryuji, who can sometimes be found reacting to videos and playing Dirtnite until the sun rises, has decided tonight is the night he’ll finally obtain the sleep schedule of a ‘normal person’ so he can go on ‘morning runs’. Which means Akira—who is far from a normal person—is stuck in the purgatory that is an empty Glitch homepage.

He decides to instead face the hellscape that is the Explore Page, because he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get some mindless entertainment until the three Mad Bulls he drank finally wear off and he passes out at his desk. As expected, he doesn’t have much luck. Most streams aren’t in Japanese, and the ones Akira dares to take a chance on have a sound quality so poor they sound like they’re using a blender as a microphone. There’s a few thumbnails of scantily clad girls Akira pretends not to look at as he scrolls, but let’s be real, he does look. There’s some zero viewer, no facecam streams of games more boring than a math lecture. Akira scrolls for so long, his eyes start to get droopy.

Until something catches his attention.

It’s not the view count that piques his interest, no. This person is sitting happily at a total of one viewer. Nor is it the streamer’s appearance that has him so intrigued—the thumbnail shows they’re currently away from their desk, their camera displaying nothing more than an empty chair and an undecorated room.

The stream caption is in Japanese, and the category is set to chess.

Akira’s not unfamiliar with the world of online chess streams. He hasn’t dabbled in the game himself, but he feels his Valuerant gameplay is on par with the tactical skill required to become a chess master. He’s not questioning why someone would stream themselves playing chess. He’s questioning who in their right mind would stream themselves playing chess at 3AM.

He clicks on the stream—FeatherCrow is the channel name, which sounds like some kind of Featherman self-insert OC. As the view count goes from one to two—one being Akira and the other likely being FeatherCrow watching himself on a different tab—he finds the same sight he was shown in the thumbnail: the streamer missing in action, the empty chair, the online chessboard with a YOU LOSE! notification on screen.

So far Akira is not very impressed. He came here for high quality chess gameplay at 3 in the morning, but this streamer clearly doesn’t have what it takes to—

A bloodcurdling “f*ck!” comes from somewhere outside FeatherCrow’s stream room.

“PIECE OF sh*t CHEATER! HOW?! HOW COULD THEY CALCULATE THEIR MOVES SO QUICKLY? THAT COMEBACK ISN’T HUMANLY POSSIBLE!”

Akira blinks. Just what the hell did he stumble into?

“They must’ve activated a bot once they realized they were losing! HAHAHAHA, of course that was it!”

The voice is no longer a murderous screech, but it’s nowhere near less demented. FeatherCrow sounds as though he’s pacing outside the door and tearing out his hair, fully unaware his one viewer can hear him.

“No human can beat a computer… Even a grandmaster would flounder against a machine! To go to such lengths to protect their online score… What kind of psychopath gives that much of a sh*t about a meaningless rating?!”

…Akira probably should’ve expected this from someone streaming chess at 3AM.

“Yet I caught it all on camera… What a fool! They had no idea I broadcasted their blunder for the admins at Chess.org to investigate! HAHAHAHA, sweet revenge! They’ll be permanently banned in no time, and my rating will be adjusted accordingly!”

FeatherCrow marches back into the room then, and Akira knows it’s not the three Mad Bulls that cause his heart to stop.

Soft, cloud-like hair, the color of milk tea, so fluffy it bounces with Crow’s resentful stomps. Creamy skin that is obviously well taken care of despite the lackluster camera quality. Long legs tucked into black slacks, and a sophisticated sweater vest that would’ve made Akira question if this boy really lives in Japan if it weren’t for the 3:03 AM written on Crow’s desktop display. And his eyes… Oh, Akira melts in his chair a little. Sharp and focused, framed by the luscious curl of his eyelashes, irises as deep as black cherries, more intoxicating than red wine. Akira wants those eyes all over him. He wants to drown in them like he’s bathing in a pool of blood.

Crow settles at his desk, and Akira’s graced by a better view of the boy—nay, the angel. His lips are moisturized with chapstick, but the shadows under his eyes are heavy with stress. Akira’s beginning to consider Crow’s webcam to be his worst enemy, because he spots a few pixelated freckles he would love to waste hours counting, maybe even brush a fingernail down the collection on his nose, just to hear Crow laugh from being tickled and watch his face pinch in response.

On screen, Crow drags his mouse over his opponent’s username and swiftly hits the report button before queueing for a new game. Akira should say something in chat before Crow gets too invested.

The game loads, meaning Crow isn’t given enough time to read chat before the timer starts ticking down. Akira didn’t even know chess had a timer. He thought people took their turn when the vibe felt right.

And he really doesn’t mind that his godlike rizz went ignored. Once Crow begins to play, Akira’s mesmerized by the swiftness of his moves. Crow’s pieces fly across the board, landing in spots Akira isn’t sure are good or bad, but it always leaves his opponent stumped considering the time it takes to retaliate. Crow uses that time to plot his method of attack, and he advances his pieces immediately when it becomes his turn.

Akira was given the wrong impression when he joined the stream and saw that YOU LOSE! pop-up. Maybe that last person really did cheat, because Crow operates like some kind of human calculator.

“Playing online has its downsides,” Crow muses as he moves a pawn(? Akira thinks that’s what the little guys are called). “It’s inferior to playing in person in every way. Beside cheaters, most players are nowhere near as skilled as their rating alleges them to be. I would normally never waste my time with this, but apparently the Chess Japan Organization frowns upon death threats.”

Crow’s expression turns sour until he makes his final move: his squiggly piece being placed diagonally from his opponent’s piece with a plus on it, the game ending with a burst of confetti and a notification claiming YOU WIN!

“That’s check,” Crow smiles to himself. “If white hadn’t made that blunder with their queen, they could’ve potentially saved themselves some time. Perhaps they were hoping for a quick death.”

He hits the ‘find new opponent’ button, and Akira nearly falls out of his chair as he scrambles for the keyboard.

“I doubt I’ll see anything more baffling than that fool’s mate earlier,” Crow shakes his head. Akira mentally notes to review the VOD later to see Crow’s reaction in the moment. “Completely horrendous. I’m hoping it was merely a side effect of the late hour.”

“I’m still up for a few more games after that caffeinated tea I had this evening. The most grueling part of this experience is trying not to get bored from the utter lack of competition. I’m failing quite miserably.”

It’s that last line that has Akira opening a tab on his second monitor to search FeatherCrow’s name on chess.org. He’s not difficult to find considering the middle schooler-esque username, so Akira clicks on his profile to take a peek at his history.

And he gapes as he scrolls through a countless amount of wins, until he finally reaches the end of the archive three pages later. It appears Crow made his account exactly one week ago, and the only loss he’s picked up was the one Akira happened to intrude upon. Maybe Crow’s account is too new for the algorithm to pair him with similarly ranked players.

Or maybe he’s just that good.

“You’re opting for that opening? Don’t waste my time.”

Crow’s chess.org profile doesn’t offer any further details about the boy. No age, no full name Akira can search to see if he really got banned from IRL tournaments. Only a location written beneath his username: Tokyo, Japan.

“I’ve adopted a different strategy this game: remain on kingside and let black gain confidence by taking the center. They’ll be in perfect position for my counterattacks, and their defense will crumble before their very eyes.”

Akira is right there in chat to cheer him on.

“White is stuck between a rock and a hard place here. There’s no opportunity to capture my bishop without rendering their rook ineffective.”

For such a small streamer, Crow is a natural at building hype for his chat. Or maybe he just talks to himself like this all the time.

“HAHAHA! Was that sacrifice on purpose?! Once I move my queen it’ll be check…”

Crow moves his big spiky piece before using it to capture the round crown piece Akira now recognizes as a king, the pop-up of YOU WIN! signaling the end of the game.

“What trash,” Crow sighs. “Even when I attempt to make the game harder for myself they fall right into my trap.”

He stretches his arms overhead with a yawn, and Akira’s full attention is devoted to the spectacle on screen. Crow’s short sleeves slip down to expose the pale skin of his upper arms, a contented hum sneaking past his lips before he returns his hands to his keyboard.

Akira feels the prickling of sweat beneath his shirt collar.

“Hopefully this game will be more exciting.”

Even as Crow queues for his next game, Akira’s mind is fixed on Crow’s body—the sweater vest and slacks he’s wearing at 3AM. Hell, Akira wears pajamas even when he goes live during the middle of the day. From just a brief glimpse, he can tell Crow cares about his appearance. Those slacks were perfectly fitted to his hips and thighs, the waistband delicately squeezing his waist. Akira can only imagine the detailed outline of his ass in those slacks…

“There’s no reason not to take this pawn. My methodology for this game is to push their king into h1 and drastically reduce their defensive options.”

Maybe Akira should scroll through the VOD to find when Crow marched away from his desk. Ah, but what if his ass is out of frame? Checking his channel, it appears Crow has only streamed four times, with one stream titled Test with a runtime of three minutes. What’s the likelihood of Akira getting a clear view of Crow’s ass in those four streams? Especially with that lackluster camera quality…

“...I’ll castle, which will ensure my king is protected. Tch, not that it’s needed against such a braindead opponent…”

Does Akira dare make a fool of himself to catch a glimpse? He doesn’t have to ask directly—he’s not that much of a degenerate. He’ll be subtle, like a gentleman.

“Queen g3? Oh, they’re floundering! They didn’t even consider my rook across the board! That’s one enemy closer to check…”

Akira’s chat will definitely know what he’s doing if they get their hands on his chat logs. But… that’s pretty unlikely. Crow has two viewers, and it’s not like chat-resident femboytwink will judge him for shooting his shot.

“At this rate white will run out of time before a checkmate…”

Crow looks so cute with that furrow in his brow, his desktop screen luminating his features like a full moon reflecting on the ocean’s surface. He’s a new streamer, so there’s no telling if he’ll stick with it or decide it’s not worth the trouble after the four streams he bestowed upon this undeserving world. If he doesn’t act now, there’s a chance Akira may never see the majestic form of his ass.

“Clearly they’re making thoughtless moves to reset their remaining five seconds…”

So Akira lets the demons win.

“It’s pointless. They’re cutting down their time with every move…”

“Even if they dismantle my defense there’s not much they can do with their queen captured…”

“And there’s the timeout. Quite possibly the most anticlimactic game I’ve suffered through on this website.”

Crow is free from the clutches on the chessboard. Maybe now he’ll finally look at his chat.

“All that tedium managed to exhaust me.”

Crow opens a new tab to open his chess.org profile. “My online rating has increased significantly, but it still doesn’t compare to my skill in person.”

…Or maybe he won’t look at his chat.

It’s no big deal. Akira has a secret weapon that is guaranteed to get Crow’s attention.

No sub graphic pops up on Crow’s stream. No sound plays, no confetti goes off. But Crow should still see it in his stream notifications, right?

“That’s enough of that.”

And there’s no fanfare when Crow hits the end stream button, leaving Akira to stare at his face in the dark screen. It takes him a long moment to come to terms with what happened. He spent 499 yen to be donowalled by a streamer he discovered thirty minutes ago.

The post-stream clarity isn’t enough to drag him down, however. Akira quickly recovers, clicking on Crow’s channel to scroll through his VODs.

“Was that… Don’t tell me that was a BARNES OPENING— BAHAHAHA! I’ve never seen someone make that mistake before!”

“How fast was that? Ten seconds? I believe that’s what’s referred to as a ‘speedrun.’”

“Their moves seem to be coming at a much faster rate…”

“Queen to D5? Only a bot would play a position so outrageous…”

“Why… Why would a human sacrifice their queen?! This can’t be… a trap to lead to checkmate?!”

“You— I refuse to let a cheater make a fool of me! As if a user rated under 1000 could play like this… like a grandmaster on steroids!”

One thing leads to another, and Crow loses to the obvious cheater before stomping out of the room. Akira also feels cheated out of a win, because Crow’s door is diagonal from his desk, meaning he walks out of frame before he gets far enough from the camera for his ass to come into view.

Akira’s head falls on his keyboard, defeated.

Akira wakes up at 2PM the next day, which is honestly pretty healthy considering he stayed up until 5AM watching Crow’s VODs and scouring the web for any information about the mysterious chess streamer. Isn’t he supposed to get a minimum of 8 hours of sleep each night?

He knows he could ask Oracle to dig up information for him, but he’d rather not face her litany of questions, or for her to call him ‘weird’ or ‘a stalker’ or worse: a ‘simp.’ But it’s not like he needs Crow’s information. Once Akira rizzes him up and seduces him, he’ll have Crow’s full name and phone number and ass to ogle over at any time of day.

Alas, as time ticks by, Akira realizes his promise of an early stream is unlikely to become a reality. He spends an hour sipping his coffee while petting Morgana and daydreaming about the virtual angel he encountered last night—truly a face one would go to cyber war for. His taxing adult responsibilities only continue from there. Ann, Akira’s forementioned favorite beauty streamer and co-favorite blonde best friend, will be moving into his spare bedroom tomorrow until she finds a permanent place to stay. She’s spent most of her modeling career travelling around the world, but she recently decided to base her operations in Tokyo to be closer to friends and family. For the last month she’s resided in Sumire’s apartment while Sumire attends a gymnastics camp in Osaka, but with Sumire returning soon, it makes sense for Ann to move in with their one friend who has a spare bedroom.

A spare bedroom which Akira is currently using as a utopia for Morgana, meaning he has to vacuum every shred of cat hair and move at least five cat towers into the living room so Ann can get to the bed. Also on Akira’s list is to go to the bed store and buy a bed.

…Would his chat be interested in a bed building stream?

“Okay, now it says I have to attach 6A and J5 with the G screws, but I don’t see anything that looks like 6A.”

Akira holds the bedframe building manual up to the camera for his chat to get a good look.

“Does any of this look like 6A to you?”

“How did it get all the way over here?” Akira quickly retrieves the piece beside the cat tree. Lavenza truly is the only bitch in this house he can trust. “Wait, how do you know which side is up?”

After installing the base upside down, Akira takes it all apart and puts it back together again.

“I really should’ve asked someone to do this with me. Like Queen. I bet she would know the difference between a C screw and a D screw.”

Chat fills with messages declaring ‘we love queen’ along with corresponding emotes. Akira has since taken a picture of the manual and put it on screen so his chat can spam tomato emotes when he does something wrong. Like he’s some kind of clown.

“Now it says to attach the headboard to the wall. With nails. Do they think I own this place? In this economy?”

“I’m extremely brand friendly, Oracle.”

“What is this?” Akira squints as he hesitantly clinks the link.

Akira immediately closes the clip.

“That was the old me. I’ve matured.”

He ignores the fact that the clip is from two weeks ago.

“And it’s not like I actually tried it. I get tons of puss*.”

“Anyway, I doubt Ann really needs her bed attached to the wall. If the frame starts to slip, she can just push it back.”

After finally putting the bed frame together, Akira takes on the impossible task of putting the mattress on said bed frame.

“I really shouldn’t have done this by myself—”

He lifts the mattress over his head, the edge of it coming dangerously close to his camera.

“sh*t—! Chat, if you die in the process, just know I tolerated you.”

With a few wobbling steps, Akira throws the mattress forward and watches it bounce into place on the bed frame. The sound probably disturbed his downstairs neighbors, even more so than Morgana does when he jumps off his cat tower, and he’s gotten pretty chonky lately.

“I can’t believe we survived that.”

Akira pushes back his bangs with one hand, lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat building on his forehead.

“Now that that’s over— Wait, do you guys think Ann has sheets……?”

Akira pauses as he tries to remember any instance of Ann gossiping about her sheet purchasing habits.

“...........Yeah, I’m sure she does. Time for Valuerant.”

Just as Akira’s collecting his camera and mic, a notification pops up on his phone.

Akira comes to a pause. Crow is live earlier than he was yesterday, so there’s no telling how late he’ll stay up playing chess. Does he have caffeinated tea every evening? What does his standard sleep schedule look like? These are all questions Akira would have answers to if he was a regular viewer.

And again, there’s no way of knowing which stream could potentially be Crow’s last. After all the effort he wasted attempting to get Crow to show ass, Akira’s not about to let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

“Actually, uh, Ann just texted me and said she’s in desperate need of sheets. And pillows. And a duvet. And we’re gonna be swamped with unpacking tomorrow, so it’s best to get to that now.”

“I might be live later depending how late we finish,” Akira explains without looking at his chat, loading Crow’s stream on his phone in case there’s some ass action within the first few seconds. “Or not. You know how hard it is to pick out sheets.”

Crow is saying something Akira can’t make out without sound. What if he’s reading out the exact dimensions of ass while Akira’s being held hostage by his chat???

“See you guys later! Tomorrow, probably!”

He practically punches end stream button before making a break for his desktop.

“sh*t, sh*t, sh*t!”

He opens Crow’s stream and lets himself relax when he sees his angel’s beautiful, slightly-pixelated face on screen.

“—rebanned from my school’s chess club, which makes this the third time. It baffles me how they expect to compete without any competent members. It’s a chess club. Not a daycare.”

So Crow is a college student in Tokyo? And an ex member of his school’s chess club (three times)? Akira stores this information in his mental filing cabinet dedicated to nerdy pretty boys who taunt him with their ass.

“Alas, this pushes me further into the online chess world. Once I reach grandmaster status, I’ll be permitted to compete in tournaments without a shadow of a doubt. It would be absurd to deny my application.”

While Akira’s turning up the charm in chat, a series of Piscord notifications appear at the bottom of his screen. He doesn’t take his eyes off Crow’s stream as he opens the application on his second monitor.

He shifts his full, undivided attention back to the stream when Crow opens chess.org.

“Perhaps it’s naive to hope for a proper challenge, but I presume higher skilled players will be active at this time of day.”

Crow does not bend over to tie his shoe, much to Akira’s demise. He’s probably not even wearing shoes right now. f*ck. Akira has to be smarter about his simping.

Strategic. Intelligent. Foolproof. Even if Crow doesn’t see the spider on his floor (Akira made it up, in case you couldn’t tell), he’ll simply tell Crow it crawled under his bookshelf, meaning Crow will have to bend over further with his ass in the air.

Akira shivers at the thought.

Crow clicks the ‘Play Online’ button and waits as he enters the queue. He’ll have no choice but to look at chat while the website finds an equally ranked player.

The game loads, and Crow’s expression becomes calculative as he prepares his opening move.

“I’ll utilize a Scotch opening to get things started. This could be very interesting if my opponent knows the proper counter attack.”

“They’re attempting a Stafford gambit, which is far from a terrible strategy. It’s more redundant than anything.”

On screen, Akira watches Crow capture his opponent’s horse shaped piece.

“A knight for a knight isn’t a devastating trade.”

“In fact, it was a much needed sacrifice, as now there’s no knight to take my queen.”

“Which in turn lets me castle to queenside.”Crow is already starting to sound bored from the lack of challenge.“Knight f6. I’ll admit I’m somewhat disappointed. They’ve just given away their stature as a novice.”Crow’s pieces cover more and more of the board’s center with every rapid move he makes.

Akira squints at the intruder. He hadn’t even noticed Crow’s view count jump from two to three.

“Thank you, Tired Lamb,” Crow says with a brief glance away from his virtual chess board. “You must have experience yourself if you’re capable of recognizing my skill. I’ve played proper chess for about ten years now. I’ve only begun my journey with online chess this month.”

Akira squints even harder to make sure he heard that right. Crow…knows how to open his chat?! Being a new streamer, Akira assumed he forgot to check it, or he simply saw no reason to considering his humble view count. But this destroys his theory entirely. Who the hell is this Lamb person? A friend? No, Crow didn’t act as if he recognized the chatter. Then… they’re a stranger? A thirdwheeler? Someone Crow deems worthy enough to respond to?

Another realization dawns on Akira. All this time, after a multitude of messages in which he poured his heart and soul into, Crow has been purposefully ignoring him.

That is so…

so…

so…

Hot.

There has to be a reason. Maybe Crow can tell Akira doesn’t know sh*t about chess, or maybe his subtle horniness has pushed him away. Perhaps, off-stream, Crow clicked on Joker’s profile, saw his millions of followers, and was confused as to why the heartthrob of Glitch was suddenly infatuated with a stranger, intimidated by Joker’s good looks and god-tier Valuerant gameplay.

Or he saw the peanut butter clip.

Either way, it presents Akira with a new challenge he’s determined to conquer. He’ll get Crow to acknowledge him, and he’ll get a 4K, high definition, movie quality clip of Crow’s ass in the process.

First he has to learn how to play chess.

Akira’s chess training arc will have to wait until all of Ann’s stuff is moved into his apartment.

“Damn, that’s good,” Ryuji beams after downing his Fountain Dew, slamming his empty can on the counter. “You’re right, Ann. The strawberry has been the best so far. S-tier!”

“I told you it’s better than the original!”

Akira slowly savors his own soda as he considers the flavor. It’s definitely good. Less sweet than the watermelon, but he’s never been a guy to prefer overly sweet things anyway.

“A-tier for me.”

“What?!”

“Dude!”

“We’re just getting started! I can’t throw out an S right away when I know there’s better things to come!”

“For real? You’re metagaming our tier list?”

“Whatever. Our votes outweigh yours, so put it in S-tier.”

Akira does what he’s told and drags the jpeg of the strawberry soda into S-tier.

After spending majority of their day hauling Ann’s boxes inside, they take the afternoon easy with a Fountain Dew ranking stream in Akira’s kitchen. Amongst the unpacked cardboard boxes sits dozens of soda packs, the flavors ranging from tangerine to ‘haunted thunder volcano.’

Akira blindly lifts the next soda pack onto the counter and grimaces when he sees the flavor: chocolate.

“Yeah, not really looking forward to drinking chocolate soda.”

“Relax,” Ann waves him off. “If creamy sodas are good, I’m sure chocolate will be fine.”

The trio clink their cans together before tasting the mystery waiting for them. Ann is the first to lower her can with a pensive hum, as though she hasn’t quite decided how she feels about the flavor. Akira is far less poised when he yanks the can away from his mouth.

“Eugh— It tastes like wet cat food. Who drinks this stuff?!”

Ryuji is the last to offer his opinion after his entire can has been chugged.

“Damn! It’s like sparklin’ chocolate milk!”

Akira stares. “And that’s a good thing?”

“Hell yeah! S-tier!”

“F-tier.”

Both boys look to Ann to announce the deciding vote.

“I thought it was fine,” she shrugs. “I’d be happy putting it in C-tier.”

“Damn. Guess it averages out to C,” Ryuji pouts like a kicked puppy.

“C?” Akira echoes. “Have you no shame? Has the integrity of the board been lost on you? C-tier is supposed to be neutral ground!”

“No need to be so dramatic, man.”

“The math adds up to C,” Ann consoles. “Sorry, Joker.”

Akira sighs. “You can have the rest of mine.”

Ryuji grins as he takes the offered soda. He pauses, however, before bringing the can to his lips.

“Do you eat ass?”

“What?”

“Huh?”

“I’m just wonderin’ if I should put my mouth on it or not.”

“I mean, I would.” Akira stares wistfully into his webcam. “If someone wanted me to.”

“This wouldn’t happen if you showed up for work on time, Oracle.”

“I pay my mods very well.”

“Must be an issue with you bank.”

Akira lifts the next soda box on the counter and reads out the flavor: “Lemon.”

“Ugh, everyone seems to love this one except me,” Ann grumbles. “It’s already a citrus soda! It doesn’t need more citrus.”

“Nah, this one’s a classic. If regular Fountain Dew’s an A-tier, this one’s gotta be S.”

“Guess we’ll see for ourselves,” Akira says before popping the tab on his can.

Loud gulping can be heard as Ryuji chugs his soda. “Oh, yeah. That’s the good sh*t. I’m standin’ my ground—it’s S.”

Ann on the other hand, purses her face as she lowers the can. “I feel like I ate a raw lemon. F.”

“F?! Are you effin’ for real?! Joker, back me up here.”

“It’s good.” Akira takes another sip to really probe the flavors. “It’s better than original Fountain Dew, but the difference is barely noticeable. They should’ve called it Fountain Dew Enhanced instead of pretending it’s a whole different flavor.”

“More like Fountain Dew sour.”

“B-tier,” Akira ultimately decides.

“What?! But that’s lower than the original! You just said it was better!”

“I just don’t think it’s trying hard enough.”

“I think it’s trying too hard,” Ann counters.

Ryuji continues to flounder between the two. “Chat, you’re my last hope! They’re bein’ totally unreasonable, right?”

“Yeah, I dunno why I expected a consistent response from Joker’s chat.”

“Hey, your viewers are mixed in there too. I keep seeing skull7s every time we try a sh*tty flavor.”

“They’re just visiting! Cut ‘em some slack.”

“Not to mention all the pantherCheers when Ann ranks something high.”

“That proves my viewers have good taste.”

“It proves they got cavities,” Ryuji counters.

“As if your ramen-based diet is any better. What’s next, Joker?”

Coconut is the next flavor Akira retrieves from their soda inventory. They settle on a unanimous C-tier due to the flavor watering down the fizz.

.

.

“Expect more variety streams like this in the future,” Ann tells Joker’s chat after wrapping up their controversial tier list. Empty cans trash Akira’s kitchen, but they’ll deal with the cleanup some other time. Any Fountain Dew flavors they don’t want to keep will be donated to a good cause: Fox’s art studio. “Now that I’m living with Joker, he’ll have more incentive to get off his ass instead of playing Valuerant for twelve hours a day.”

“I usually only play for ten hours a day.”

“We’re doing a cosplay stream soon~!” Ann continues. Akira didn’t agree to a cosplay stream, but he figures he’s roped into it now. “And lots of cooking streams. Akira’s an amazing chef! And don’t worry, I’ll be sure to give a detailed review of every meal.”

“It’s been a while since your last food review stream,” Ryuji muses. “I was so jealous when you got that mega pizza in Italy. The slices were bigger than your head!”

“It’s hard when I’m not traveling as much. And it was always so awkward when the food didn’t taste good. I’ve been telling a friend of mine to take a swing at food review streams—he’s not afraid to be a bitch. You should see the reviews he leaves on Welp. He called a tomato soup repugnant. Tomato soup! How could it be that bad?”

“Glitch chat would eat that up,” Akira says. “They love bullying people.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him! But he’s so adverse to anything that has to do with streaming. He refuses to meet any of my streamer friends. He thinks they all have rocks for brains—”

“What the eff makes him think that?!”

“—And he thinks every streamer is an egotistical maniac—!”

“Not wrong.”

“Of course I’m the exception, since I have a ‘real job.’”

“Careful, Ann,” Akira teases. “He might see this and start considering you an egotistical maniac.”

“Sorry, Joker, I highly doubt he’s watching your stream.”

“You never know. My audience is very diverse.”

“Your chat is full of horny twinks.”

“Some of them are horny twunks.”

“I guess the chat really does reflect the streamer,” Ann snickers. “Anyway, is your capture card set up?”

.

.

They’re in the midst of a heated game of Feather Party 8 when Akira’s phone pings with a notification.

sh*t.

He can’t hastily end stream like he did last night. How would he explain that to Ann and Ryuji? The power went out? No, they’d clearly see the lights are still on. The wifi died? No, they’d just go live again and continue where they left off. He can’t even ask Oracle to hack his stream and end it against their will! She’d definitely have questions!

Akira stares at the notification like it’s a death warrant. Sure, he could let himself miss the beginning of Crow’s stream and hope he’s still online later, but what if t1redLamb pops up in Crow’s chat again? What if they start flirting without Akira there to intervene? What if Crow shows ass?!

“Your turn, Joker!”

“Wha— Oh.” Akira trades his phone for his controller as he rolls the dice over his character’s head. Ten, big roll. Luck has been on his side tonight. The chibi version of Red Hawk waddles ten spaces closer to the star.

“I swear the RNG favors Red Hawk,” Ryuji grumbles as he begins his turn. Akira shifts his gaze back to his phone, his hand moving on its own accord as he taps the Glitch notification.

He’s met by Crow’s gorgeous face on a screen small enough to be criminal. Akira’s phone just doesn’t do him justice. He can’t see Crow’s freckles from here. He can’t make out the various shades of red in his irises.

But he can see Crow’s soft tawny hair and the green sweater vest he dons tonight, and that’s enough to hold Akira over.

“Mini-game time~!”

“God dammit, I hate the button mashin’ ones.”

“Do you wanna practice, Joker?”

Akira doesn’t look up from his phone. “I’m good.”

“Wait, I gotta warm up first!”

While Ann and Ryuji warm up their thumbs, Akira opens Crow’s chat and practices a bit of button mashing himself.

“Ready to start, Ryuji?”

“Ugh, fine. Guess there’s no beatin’ Joker no matter how much I warm up.”

Akira sets his phone in his lap and picks up his controller instead. Luckily he doesn’t have to look away from his phone to compete in the mini-game, so he keeps his eyes glued to Crow’s face while the announcer counts down from three.

And Akira begins to button mash, holding his controller in an iron grip and flexing his bicep to get the most out of his thumb strength. He hears Ryuji exclaim a ‘damn, dude!’, and he’s sure chat is blowing up from the excitement. But Akira stares solely at Crow, mashing all the harder when Crow tilts his head to one side, his honey brown hair fanning over the side of his face, exposing his slender neck…

Watching on mute just isn’t enough. Akira needs to know what he’s saying. He needs to hear Crow’s voice. He needs to hear Crow moan as he’s bent over his desk—

“Red Hawk wins!”

Akira lets his arm relax when the mini-game comes to an end. Ann and Ryuji’s disappointment is distant to his ears, and he tunes out the outside world completely when he notices something in Crow’s chat.

Akira can’t believe his eyes. There’s actual movement in Crow’s chat. Crow currently has eleven viewers. That’s a huge leap from three!

And Crow installed Automod. Akira’s life is over.

“Ooh, that star is mine!”

Akira has to know what he’s talking about. How has he attracted so many viewers? Why are his chatters suggesting games?

“Good luck, Joker. You’re gonna need it.”

“Be right back,” Akira says (squeaks, more accurately) before sprinting out of the room with his phone in hand.

“Wait—! At least take your turn first!”

Akira narrowly avoids tripping over a stack of Fountain Dew boxes as he turns his volume up. Crow seems to be asking his chat for input, a first on his channel.

“I did see a sign in Akihabara promoting the new Dokimon game,” he says. Akihabara? Does Crow live near there? Should Akira start hanging out there more often? “Is any actual strategy involved? I’ve been led to believe it’s a children’s game.”

Akira glances down at Crow’s stream title: ‘Experimenting with new strategy-based games,’ it says. ‘More chess later this evening.’

Crow scoffs. “I would never reduce myself to a game that caters to the incompetent. A light gun game require far more skill as opposed to the computer pulling the weight.

“f*ck my life,” Akira mutters.

“Solitaire it is,” Crow decides. “I’ll compile a list of games at a later date.”

“Joker!”

“sh*t!” Akira runs back into his stream room at Ann’s call of his name. He completely forgot about the game. “Sorry!”

“What the hell, man? You wandered off out of nowhere!”

“I got a phone call. From, uh, Morgana’s vet. I was worried he had………arthritis.”

Morgana stares at Akira from his bed, clearly seeing through his lies.

“Oh.” Ryuji seems to buy his lies. “Did they get the results?”

“Yeah. He’s 100% healthy.”

“Phew! That’s good news.”

Ann squints at him, clearly suspicious. But unlike Ann who decides to keep quiet, Akira’s chat happily puts him on blast.

Maybe Ann’s right, his chat is full of horny twinks.

The following morning, Akira’s chess training arc officially begins.

He wakes up at the crisp hour of noon with the intention of staring at his computer until he has enough knowledge to impress Crow. With Ann moved in, Akira has nothing on today’s schedule other than the usual late night Valuerant. Tomorrow morning, however, he promised Ryuji he’d join him for an early jogging stream, so he’s hoping to get in as much studying as he can today.

He starts by learning the pieces, which isn’t too difficult after watching Crow mald over his opponents’ decisions. The horse-shaped pieces are the knights, because knights ride horses, and the bishops are the pieces with the silly hats, because they’re religious. A pawn can become a stronger piece if it reaches the end of the board. Moving up the corporate ladder, just like what Akira did when he worked at Triple Seven before he was fired for bringing his cat to work.

The movement of the chess pieces is where Akira finds a bit more trouble. During his prior research (i.e. watching Crow’s streams), he noticed Crow moving the pieces all across the board, but Akira hadn’t been paying attention to which pieces moved where. He was too focused on Crow’s lips and Crow’s neck and the button on Crow’s shirt that Akira would love to tear off with his teeth so he can lick over Crow’s collarbone. He wasn’t paying attention to a damn rook.

It’s while Akira’s watching a tutorial on chess openings that he’s jumpscared by a notification.

Akira reacts by dropping his phone, fumbling for it just in time to prevent it from landing on the floor. It’s 1PM. What the hell is Crow doing live at this hour? It’s a good thing Akira woke up early today. He didn’t want to miss the rare appearance of a Daytime Crow.

“Six across: ten letters, a type of outdoor allergy. Hah! Child’s play. The answer is obviously pollenosis.”

Crow doesn’t bother engaging with his chat like he did last stream. Instead he leaves his whopping 15 viewers hanging by jumping right into a crossword puzzle.

“Thirteen down: nine letters, medicine of varying legality. Narcotics. Did I accidentally open a link for an intermediate crossword puzzle? I was certain it said advanced.”

“Eighteen down: influenza. Eighteen across: Illuminate.”

“Twenty-two across: eight letters, ancient god of theatre. What sad, pathetic life would one have to lead to not know this? Dionysis. Twenty-two down: four letters, an indentation in a solid surface.”

“PLEASE no cheating in the chatbox,” Crow barks. “Were you raised in a goddamn barn?”

“Twenty-three across: six letters, skeleton’s hangout. Corpse? No, that brings me one letter short… Of course, closet.”

“Twenty-three down: eight letters, exchanged all over the world. Yet another lackluster puzzle. The answer is currency.”

“Twenty-four across, eight letters, changes with the season. Wardrobe, I suppose. Personally I find a respectable sweater vest to be fitting of any weather.”

“Twenty-four down, four letters, Bacchus’s beverage. Wine. I’ll be having plenty of that tonight.”

“I’ve been invited to dinner this evening to celebrate a friend’s return to Tokyo. Her favorite Italian restaurant—I’ll hold my tongue on revealing the name—has a tendency to serve greasy, overcooked slop. The eggplant parmesan I ordered during my previous visit was utterly horrendous.”

“But it’s her choice of establishment, not mine. She has quite the bottomless stomach, especially when it comes to carbohydrates. As for our mutual friend joining us, she can just about inhale a menu’s worth of pastries. Hopefully she’s not disappointed when she’s served a frozen lard for dessert.”

“That dinner is the reason for today’s early broadcast. Normally the combination of school and work leaves only my evenings free, but my shift manager miraculously decided not to schedule me today.”

Crow works a part-time job? Akira remembers his days bouncing between jobs before making it big in the Valuerant scene. Life in the service industry is miserable for anyone, but for someone as ethereal as Crow to be subjected to such torment… That should be criminal!

“I’m surprised they even have that option in their system considering the egregiousness of Big— Ah… Undisclosed Burger Chain.”

Akira pauses in the midst of entering his 50000 yen donation. An undisclosed burger chain that treats their employees poorly? That could be any business, but Akira caught that slip of the tongue. Could it be..? His gorgeous Crow with the face of an angel and (presumably) the smokin’ hot bod of a supermodel… works at Big Bang Burger?

Akira ups his donation to 100000 yen before pressing confirm.

“Back to the puzzle. Twenty-five across: six letters, ancient legendary dragon. Typhon? That conflicts with the ‘i’ at the end… Orochi! Yes, it’s almost embarrassing to not have solved that immediately. Twenty-five down…”

While Crow casually continues his crossword puzzle, Akira types up a Piscord message and hits send before he can think it through.

f*ck. Akira really should’ve considered the likelihood of Haru asking questions.

…Akira figures it’s better than nothing.

Akira scans the three documents, all of which provide pictures to make the process easier. Except none of the employees are Crow, meaning he does not work at any of the three Big Bang Burger branches in Akihabara. Does he even live in Akihabara? Was Akira’s hunch wrong all this time? Was Crow simply passing through, just like the 1.8 million people who visit Akihabara every day?

“Five letters, poppy product. Opium. Even a toddler could solve this.” Crow shakes his head as he fills out the crossword’s final answer. “That was far from a difficult puzzle, but it made for a decent warm-up. Now, onto chess.”

It’s an extremely difficult challenge, but Akira tries to pay attention to Crow’s moves rather than his concentrated expression. He watches the L-shaped movement of the knight rather than the smug curl of Crow’s lips. And when Crow corners his opponent’s king with his queen, Akira knows he’s about to win, so he proloads his pogs in chat before Crow can officially seal the deal.

“At least they attempted to hold their ground,” Crow comments after his opponent meets their fateful end. “As expected from a 1500 rating. I believe I’m finally being paired against intermediate players.”

Akira pauses after sending his paragraphs of pogs through the chat. He wasn’t expecting that reaction, especially after Crow won so effortlessly. In fact, it’s the nicest thing Crow’s said about anyone ever.

Akira sits up a little taller in his seat. He could be that person. He could be the chess rival Crow craves. He can sweep Crow off his feet with his vast knowledge of The King’s Game—that’s what they call it in the chess scene. He learned that from the chess tutorial on Gootube.

So when Crow’s next game loads on chess.org, Akira thinks of the other knowledge he learned in the ‘LEARN HOW TO PLAY CHESS IN EIGHT EASY STEPS TO IMPRESS YOUR CRUSH — 30 MINUTES — ULTIMATE BEGINNERS GUIDE — ROADMAP TO GRANDMASTER 💪💯 — SEDUCE CHESS BABES GUARANTEED’ tutorial. The main strategy of the game is to take control of the center of the board.

Crow’s opening move seems to keep in line with this strategy, one of his pawns claiming the center of the board.

Crow pauses momentarily, uncaring of the timer ticking down as he squints at the corner of his screen, presumably where the chat is. He doesn’t say anything; he just lets his unimpressed stare do the talking for him.

Akira perks up, his heart pounding even as Crow returns his gaze to the chessboard, a lengthy fifteen seconds wasted. While Crow doesn’t utilize the move Akira suggested, he was clearly caught off guard by the message. Could it be he didn’t expect Joker to have so much chess knowledge? Was he sent head over heels at the prospect of having a worthy chess rival?

Crow once again stares at the screen like his computer grew a second monitor.

“I’ll bring out my bishop so I can castle,” Crow speaks slowly, as though as much should be obvious. Akira folds his arms behind his head as he leans back in his chair, a smirk plastered on his face. So this is how Crow flirts? Adorable. It’s almost like they’re playing their own indirect game of chess.

The opponent inches their pawn to the side of the board, standing before Crow’s row of pieces in an attempt to intimidate him. But Akira studied the movements of the pieces for a long and hard thirty minutes. He knows exactly how to counter that play.

“Are you—” Crow cuts himself off before returning his gaze to the virtual board. He wasted a bit of time admiring Akira’s expertise, so his next move is slightly rushed, his bishop getting captured in the aftermath.

Seven hours later, Akira hits the go live button on his own stream. Crow went offline a while ago to get ready for dinner with friends (which Akira is not jealous about) (however, if he was the one taking Crow out for dinner, he’d definitely pick something better than a ‘horrendous’ Italian restaurant that serves ‘lard’ for dessert), which left Akira to study chess alone. But the best way to practice a game is to play the game, and after Akira’s impressive showing in Crow’s chat this afternoon, he thinks he’s done more than enough studying.

And he might as well stream it. That way Oracle can clip all his impressive wins and Akira can spam the links in Crow’s chat.

“We’re doing something a little different tonight,” Akira explains as more viewers roll in. “Then we’ll play Value in two hours. I actually put together a team this time, so no more suffering through solo—”

“Joker!”

“Huh?”

Ann, dressed in a floor-length evening dress, peeks her head into the room, the chat filling with excitement upon hearing her voice off camera.

“I’m going to dinner with Sumi tonight. Want me to bring you dessert?”

“I thought she was getting back on Saturday?”

“Her welcome back party is on Saturday. Her train got in this morning.”

“Yet you’re hanging out with her tonight? Way to hog her all for yourself, Ann.”

“I’m not hogging her all for myself. It’s, ugh. It’s a whole thing. I’ll be back in— Wait…”

Ann steps closer into the room, staring at Akira’s computer screen with a mix of confusion and horror.

“Is that…chess.org?”

“No—!” Akira closes the tab as though he’d been caught watching p*rn. “That— That was just an ad—!”

“It didn’t look like an ad.”

“Can you prove it wasn’t?”

“Ummm, I guess not.”

“Exactly. Checkmate.” Akira slaps a hand over his mouth when he realizes what he just said.

“...Okayyyy. I’m gonna head out now. You have fun with your chat.”

“I will,” Akira squeaks. He sighs with relief once he hears the apartment door latch upon Ann’s departure. “That was a close one.”

He glances at his screen to find his chat full of confusion and disappointment.

“Chat, we’ve been over this. Tomorrow morning: jogging stream on Skull’s channel. Saturday evening: Violet’s party on Panther’s channel. Sunday: I’ll be back with a Value stream. The cosplay stream is next week. Oh, get those jokersadges out of here. Ann will be busy with photoshoots for a magazine I’m not allowed to name yet. Besides, we’re doing something much more fun than a cosplay stream tonight.”

Akira reopens the tab containing his chess.org profile. His account is completely barren with no activity other than a pending friend request sent to FeatherCrow.

“We’re going to play chess.”

“Don’t give me that look. Chess is super exciting! And it requires a ton of skill. It’s like the Valuerant of board games.”

“I’m really good at it too. Maybe you guys don’t have a high enough IQ to properly appreciate the King’s Game. That’s what we call it in the chess scene.”

“I haven’t played online yet,” Akira waves her off. “I’m more of an IRL player. Once I get into the proper headspace, you’ll regret questioning my skill level.”

Despite the doubters in chat, Akira loads up the queue for his first ever chess game. He worked long and hard for this. He studied the names of the pieces, how they move, the main strategy of the game. He even restrained from begging Crow to show ass so he could pay attention to Crow’s gameplay. If that’s not the definition of a chess scholar, Akira doesn’t know what is.

He’s up against someone with a rating slightly above his own, signifying they’re a beginner as well. Akira starts with his signature chess opening: moving the king’s pawn to the center of the board, and his opponent moves their same exact pawn. Maybe they watched the ‘LEARN HOW TO PLAY CHESS IN EIGHT EASY STEPS TO IMPRESS YOUR CRUSH — 30 MINUTES — ULTIMATE BEGINNERS GUIDE — ROADMAP TO GRANDMASTER 💪💯 — SEDUCE CHESS BABES GUARANTEED’ tutorial as well.

“The goal in the early game is to take control of the center of the board,” he explains to his chat full of chess amateurs. “It forces them to bring out their more powerful pieces to capture you.”

Akira decides to follow up with the move he suggested in Crow’s chat—the one that had Crow so impressed he blankly stared at his monitor for fifteen seconds. He moves the d7 pawn to d4, placing the piece right next to his other pawn.

“You see, chat, these two pawns are like the generals of the army. They lead the way so we can get the knights out—”

The opponent’s pawn jumps over diagonally to steal Akira’s pawn. Akira stares.

“I… I mean the pawns lead the way for us to play our queen.” Akira moves his queen forward to capture the pawn that just disrespected him and everything he stands for. “See? Now we have our most powerful piece in play. We’re going for the intimidation tactic.”

The opponent moves their bishop in the direction of Akira’s queen.

“Oh f*ck, they’re chasing after me. Chat, what do I do? M-move back?”

Akira glances at his chat for help and is devastated to see Oracle changed the setting to emote only mode.

“Oracle! Let them speak!”

“T-that’s fine! They’re playing aggressively because they’re afraid of falling behind, obviously. Sometimes offense is the best defense. You guys will learn that when you’re older.”

“I’ll just tuck my queen right back into place here, heheh… All good…”

The opponent’s queen moves diagonally to the side of the board. Akira squints.

“Huh? Usually you shouldn’t play the queen this early. Unless, of course, you’re capturing a pawn like I did. That was totally warranted.”

Akira moves a knight to the center of the board, just like he planned to do from the beginning before he was humiliated, insulted, and stepped on by his opponent’s pawn.

“Now we’re back in business.”

The opponent’s queen makes another grand move, capturing the pawn right in front of Akira’s king.

“They’re just offering me a free queen? Yeah, it’s pretty clear they’re a beginner.”

He chuckles as he captures the queen with his king. Akira quickly learns, as the opponent’s bishop makes a running leap for his king, that he f*cked up.

YOU LOSE!

Akira sits frozen in place for a long moment. No… It can’t be… But Crow was so impressed by Akira’s chess knowledge… They were flirting… The sexual tension was through the roof…

“That… That was a warm-up,” Akira clarifies. For extra measure he adds, “No one clip that.”

As if on cue, a Glitch link pops up in chat. Akira hovers over it to see the name — ‘joker loses his first ever chess game in 5 moves.’

“That was not my first ever chess game,” Akira corrects. “The rules are just different online than OTB. That’s what we in the chess scene call over the board. Mods, delete that clip.”

Most of Akira’s games go the same exact way: he attempts to take control of the center, makes a blunder along the way, gets checkmated, and immediately eviscerates any evidence of his mistake from the internet forever. He’s actually grateful Crow is busy eating Italian lard tonight. Akira would never live it down if his atrocious chess skills got put on blast.

Ending stream after a relaxing cooldown of five hours of Valuerant, Akira’s Piscord pings with a flurry of messages.

Akira’s eyes widen. How did she— no, Akira’s learned to stop asking how when it comes to Oracle’s online sleuthing skills. The more appropriate question is why? When?

“I should’ve looked up the recipe for macarons yesterday!” Ann gripes as she cracks seven—yes, seven—eggs into a bowl. “You’re supposed to let the egg whites chill for 24 hours after separating them!”

“Ain’t Haru comin’ over in two hours for the cooking stream?” Ryuji asks from where he sits at the island counter, still surrounded by lukewarm boxes of Fountain Dew.

“Yes!”

Akira’s greeted by the scene after rolling out of bed and trudging into the kitchen to make his morning coffee. His slippers drag across the floor, announcing his presence before he can rasp out an exhausted “Hey.”

“Finally you’re up, dude! I thought we agreed on 6AM!”

Akira runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “It is six.”

Ann, separating her eggs, squints at the time on Akira’s laptop screen. “It’s 11:30.”

“...I must’ve slept through my alarm.”

“For five hours?”

“I set multiple alarms. Mona must’ve gotten annoyed and turned them off.”

“Damn,” Ryuji shakes his head. “He’s always doin’ that.”

“I’ll be ready in twenty.” Akira begins a sped up version of his lengthy coffee preparation process. “Can’t believe you’re getting up at six when that used to be your bedtime.”

“That’s the beauty of a sleep cycle, man. It’s always cycling.”

“Eek! I dropped a yolk in my egg whites.” Ann promptly begins to fish out the egg yolk with her hand, causing Akira to grimace.

“Ew. Use a spoon or something.”

“Don’t ew me. I’m very stressed right now! Besides, my hands are clean. Unlike yours.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ann looks up from her bowl of egg whites with a dangerous glint in her eye.

“You got a message from your bank asking if you really spent one hundred thousand yen on Glitch.tv. They thought it was fraud.”

“Dude, why do you get bank notifications on your stream laptop?”

“That’s not my stream laptop, that’s my kitchen laptop.”

“You’re dodging the question,” Ann deadpans.

“Why are you using my kitchen laptop in the first place?”

“Because I’m doing a stream in your kitchen later— Ugh, that doesn’t matter! Who has you whipped enough to send a one hundred thousand yen dono?”

“You don’t know that I’m whipped. It could’ve been someone in need of rent money. Or someone with high vet bills.”

“Because their cat has arthritis?”

“Exactly.”

“Wait, I got an idea,” Ryuji pipes up. “We got his kitchen laptop right here. Let’s check his history.”

“Ooh, good idea!”

Akira resumes his coffee making process. He really couldn’t care less if his friends find out he donated a large amount to a smaller streamer. They’ll likely only respect him more for it.

“One hundred hours in a week?!”

“How is that humanly possible?!”

“His streams are riveting and entertaining,” Akira says as he pours himself a cup.

“Some guy who streams chess?!”

“That’s why you were acting so weird last night!”

“I wouldn’t say it was weird—”

“Chat history!” Ann uses her raw egg-covered hands to click on the tab, causing Akira’s nose to pinch.

“Can you at least wipe your hands off first—”

“Holy sh*t, dude.”

“Oh my god. You’re even worse than the horny dudes in my chat! How have you not been banned yet?!”

“Woah, scroll back. Tier 3?!”

“WHAT?! You’re not even tier 3 subbed to me!”

“Or me!”

Akira carefully lifts his hands as though taming two wild animals. “Guys, tier 3 subs are expensive.”

“No sh*t! Why’re you wastin’ it on this guy?!”

“As I said, his commentary is captivating—”

“Bullsh*t!”

“‘Maybe you should stand up and touch your toes,’” Ann reads aloud from Akira’s chat history. “‘While facing away from the camera. To help u destress.’”

Akira shifts. It does sound a little desperate when read out loud. “I was just looking out for his posture. Let me tell you, the back pain after a ten hour Valuerant stream is unreal.”

“‘I would spread you down and across my bed,’” Ann reads.

“That was out of context. He was doing a crossword puzzle.”

“I don’t think that helps,” Ryuji grunts.

“‘You could strategically take this dick.’”

Ann and Ryuji stare at Akira with the same exasperated expression. Yeah, there’s not really a good way to explain that one.

“So I’ve done a little bit of flirting in his chat—sue me! If you saw him you would understand.”

“Does a hundred thousand yen dono count as flirting?” Ryuji asks.

“Simping, more like.”

Nevertheless, Ann uses her raw egg-covered fingers to click on Crow’s profile.

“Oh.”

“Meh, he’s alright lookin’, but he’s never gonna make it anywhere with that hair,” Ryuji mutters. “And is his username his Featherman OC?”

Akira grins. “Cute, right?”

“I think we’ve got different definitions of cute.”

“He’s smart too. He’s been steadily gaining viewers since I started watching—and all on his own. I know he’d get an instant boost in viewers if I gave him a shoutout, but he seems like the type to want to grow his audience naturally.”

Ryuji warily nods along. “Didn’t know chess was that popular—”

“And I don’t want his chat to be filled with my viewers, you know? I don’t want people to be talking about me instead of Crow. I’m just a normal person in his chat, a regular viewer watching the stream like everybody else. And he doesn’t treat me like I’m some big streamer either. In fact, he’s never even acknowledged me.”

Ryuji’s face pinches at this. “Huh? You mean he’s never clicked on your channel or anything?”

“Nope. He’s never read any of my chats either. Or thanked my subscriptions.”

“But… But the hundred thousand yen dono… He acknowledged that, right?”

“Nope.”

Ryuji appears downright stricken. “Dude. Ann, a-are you listening to this?”

Ann, who hasn’t spoken up for quite sometime now, stares at Crow’s VOD in horror. “That goddamn liar!”

“Wha— Do you know this guy?”

“You know Crow?” Akira nearly spills his freshly made coffee at the possibility.

Ann’s wide eyes volley between the two. “N-no! Not at all! That’s a total stranger to me! Aha! The liar is you, Akira, who claimed you donated one hundred thousand yen because his cat has arthritis, but he doesn’t even have a cat! …I assume.”

Akira places a hand on his chin in consideration. “He’s never mentioned having one…”

“Anyway! I have to make a phone call. To Haru! Who’s coming over to make macarons for Sumi’s welcome back party! Which we will be hosting here! Tomorrow night!”

“Yeah,” Ryuji snorts. “We know.”

Ann disappears into the spare bedroom before immediately reemerging again. “I forgot to wash the egg off my hands.”

She quickly returns to the bedroom to make that phone call to Haru.

“So this Crow guy…” Ryuji drawls when it’s just them in the kitchen; man to man, bro to bro. “He’s really never acknowledged you?”

“I know it sounds weird, but it’s just the thing we do. It’s our thing. He acknowledges everyone else in chat, yet he ignores me. So really it’s like he’s acknowledging me more than anybody else.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Ryuji.” Akira gives the blonde a friendly pat on the shoulder. “It’s a game of cat and mouse. Not only is he flirting with me, he’s making bedroom eyes at me throughout his entire stream. He wants me. The sexual tension between us… Heh, I’m surprised it’s not against Glitch’s terms of service. Maybe you’ll understand when you fall in love one day.”

“Oh. Good for you, man. I think.”

As the two get ready for their morning jogging stream, Akira hears Ann squabbling with someone when he passes the spare bedroom door;

“I thought you couldn’t stand him! Is this why you didn’t tell me you started streaming?! No, you know I’d never force you to appear on my stream— Ugh, Goro— Just ban him if you hate him so much! No, he’s not going to unleash his audience of horny twinks to harass you— What? You keep him around as an example for other chatters to see what not to do? How does that make any sense—?”

“What’s that about?” Ryuji grunts.

Akira shrugs. “Probably has something to do with the party.”

“Fox and Violet are on their way!” Ann announces to everyone in Akira’s living room, as well as her stream as she shows her viewers the decorated apartment. There’s not a single Fountain Dew can in sight. That’s how you know it’s a special occasion. “Chat, don’t spoil the surprise!”

“Wait, this was s’posed to be a surprise party?”

“Ryuji! Don’t tell me you leaked it!”

“Me?! Your stream title yesterday was Baking macarons for Violet’s welcome back party.”

“Because she’s been too busy to watch streams this week!”

“She’d still get the steam notification,” Akira tells her, to which Ann’s mouth falls into a small ‘o’ shape.

“S-she’s still going to be surprised by how great everything looks! Even Morgana dressed up!” Ann zooms in on Morgana dressed in a cat tuxedo. “Makoto and Haru helped with the decorations! I mean, you guys could probably tell from all the flowers. And Akira was cooking all day! Just look at that snack table.”

Akira waves her off. “It was nothing.”

“It was super impressive! I kept telling him to stream it, but he said he was too in the zone to entertain his chat.”

“They don’t wanna watch that.”

Ann scoffs. “I beg to differ. They’ve been loving all the variety streams you’ve done lately. You saw that post going around on Yapper, right?”

“What post?”

Ann’s chat floods with smug emotes.

“Seriously? How are you so terminally online but you haven’t seen this?” Ann snatches Akira’s phone so she can track down the post. “See for yourself.”

She shoves Akira’s phone against his chest before wandering off to talk to Shiho.

Akira’s Yapper app is open on an account named @jokerupdating, a very popular Joker update account in the community. Attached is four pictures from yesterday’s jogging stream—particularly from after the jogging when Akira had to take his shirt off to cool down. The absurd amount of likes, replies, and reyaps on the post is what grabs Akira’s attention.

These people are even hornier than the delusional men in Ann’s chat. Not that Akira blames them. He looks undeniably sexy in those screenshots. If Crow saw this post, he’d be sending ass pics straight to Akira’s dms, no questions asked.

…Does Crow have a Yapper account?

Sumire, escorted by Yusuke, arrives at the party at that moment, gushing a mile a minute about how beautiful everything looks. While she’s swarmed by everyone in the room (Morgana included), Akira mindlessly searches Crow’s username in the Yapper search bar.

His skeleton nearly jumps out of his skin when he gets a hit, button mashing on the account until it loads.

Plain is Akira’s first thought at the sight of the profile, but it’s clearly not barren. While Crow doesn’t yap nearly as much as Akira, he has a pattern of posting every few days. Most of which are cryptic messages, including today’s.

“Guys, what does asinine mean?”

“I think it’s a kind of dokimon,” Ryuji calls back.

“It’s another way of saying foolish,” Makoto clarifies.

“Got it,” Akira nods. He promptly likes the post, follows Crow’s account, and types out a response.

“Training starts again in a month, but at least I’ll be in Tokyo this time—!”

Akira continues scrolling through Crow’s account while Sumire talks about her upcoming meet.

“I have to keep up my current meal plan in the meantime, so I’ll be able to do plenty of mukbang streams!”

“Hear that chat? Aw, look at all those VioletHeart emotes!”

“I missed you, chat!”

“I have no idea how you eat so much and stay so thin, Sumi-chan!”

“It actually helps me put on muscle—”

“Didn’t you say this camp would be extra grueling?”

“It was, Shiho-senpai! But after months of practicing, I finally perfected the back handspring of death!”

“No way!”

“I must witness this move in person as soon as your training resumes!”

“You missed some hectic adventures while you were gone, Sumire. Haru and I discovered a pack of tanukis in Inokashira park. We’ll have to show you sometime.”

“I’d love to see the tanukis, Makoto-senpai!”

“Maybe you can join me and Joker for our 6AM jogging streams!”

“Joker-senpai willingly woke up at 6AM?”

“Wellllll, it was more like 11:30.”

“Ooh, let’s play a game!”

“What, like Feather Cart?”

“No, Ryuji. A party game!”

“Spin the bottle?”

“Ew, not in front of chat.”

“What about never have I ever?”

“I love that one!”

“Joker, come join us!”

“Be right there!”

One drink for every finger they put down is the one rule they decide upon. And maybe they should’ve brainstormed a few more rules, because Akira feels very targeted right now.

“Never have I ever donated one hundred thousand yen to a streamer,” Ann says. To make matters worse, she figured out how to put the chat on Akira’s TV, meaning he’s forced to watch their reaction as he puts a finger down and takes yet another sip of his co*cktail.

“Joker,” Makoto shakes her head, sounding equally as disappointed as chat. “One hundred thousand yen? Did I hear that correctly?”

“Their cat had arthritis.”

“Wait, are we talkin’ all at once here?” Ryuji asks. “‘Cause with the amount of times I’ve lost bets to Oracle, I’ve definitely sent her over a hundred thousand by now.”

“I wouldn’t say that counts, considering she doesn’t stream,” Sumire says.

“Woah, woah, woah, Fox?!” Ann zooms in on Yusuke putting his finger down. “You spent that much on a donation?!”

“I offered my patronage to an artist with a virtual avatar. It was an adorable rendition of a cat human hybrid.”

“Considering your dietary situation, that money should be saved for essentials,” Makoto chides.

“Supporting composers of art is of the utmost essential!”

“H-Haru-senpai? You put a finger down as well?”

Ann zooms in on Haru casually taking a sip of her margarita. “Hm? Is that a lot of money?”

“I guess that’s not surprising. Your turn, Ryuji!”

“Wha— Huh?” Ryuji startles as Ann slaps him on the back. “Uh, never have I ever… tier 3 subbed to someone!”

Betrayed by his own best bro, Akira puts another finger down. This is already the third time he’s had to drink thanks to Sumire starting the game with ‘never have I ever shoplifted an item worth more than 2000 yen.’ Akira didn’t mean to steal the toaster. He just walked out with it and no one noticed.

“Tier 3?!” Makoto echoes.

“Even I’m aware that’s a waste of money,” Haru chuckles.

“Is it on Ann-senpai’s channel? Or Ryuji-senpai?”

“That’s not part of the question,” Akira mutters around his glass rim. He pointedly does not look at chat.

“I believe it’s my turn to reveal what activities I have not done,” Yusuke says. “Never have I ever inserted my penis into a jar of peanut butter.”

An entire room’s worth of eyes turn to look at Akira.

“I didn’t actually try it!”

“I dunno, man. You sounded pretty confident about it.”

“I was speaking hypothetically. Can you imagine the clean-up?”

“I think there’s reasons not to do it other than not wanting to clean up afterwards,” Makoto mutters.

“Ugh, remind me not to eat any peanut butter while I’m here,” Ann groans.

“Whatever. I’m not putting my finger down.”

“Your turn, Haru!”

“Wonderful! Never have I ever fallen off a treadmill.”

“Goddammit.”

.

.

Akira ends up going through three co*cktails after having to sip ten times, and since he’s the first out of the game, the group decide he has to take a shot as his punishment. Even on his own turn he failed to get back at Ann for putting him in this situation. ‘Never have I ever worn a maid dress on stream,’ he said. Yeah, he forgot he did that too when he bet he could beat Train of Life in an hour. Needless to say, he failed miserably.

Three co*cktails and two shots later (one of those was just for fun), Akira is significantly drunk. Drunk enough that he’s already forgiven his friends for ganging up on him, because how could he ever stay mad at his friends? They’re always there for him, even when he does dumb sh*t like accidentally steal toasters from department stores. And Akira also forgives Ann’s chat for bullying him, because her chatters always jump to his stream when Ann goes offline. Ann also has adorable emotes. She even has one of her hugging Morgana. Akira can’t stay mad at that.

He’s currently splayed out on his couch with his cat laying on his chest while he sips another co*cktail. Ann is filming Ryuji and Sumire attempting to play basketball with a crumpled up ball of paper and a trash can, and Haru is currently telling Yusuke about her dreams of selling the Big Bang Burger franchise to open a cafe instead. Akira mindlessly nods along as he listens to their conversation. Yusuke, so wise and profound. And Haru, so smart and savvy. She’ll make a great cafe owner. Akira even watched her design her ideal cafe in Animal Passing.

While Akira slowly starts to nod off, he suddenly gets a notification on his phone.

“Mmph.” He has to awkwardly wiggle his body to fish his phone out of his pocket without disturbing Morgana. It’s probably Oracle bullying him about his miserable performance in never have I ever. But it didn’t sound like a Piscord notification… Maybe it’s a dm on Yapper, or something from Glitch. But all his friends are here right now. Who could possibly be going live at—

“f*ck!”

Akira shouts the word a little louder than intended in his drunken stupor, the entire room turning to look at him.

“I have to… go jerk off!”

Silence overtakes the party as his friends stare at him. Akira politely excuses himself before waddling back to his room.

His vision is blurry when he sits at his desk, which he quickly realizes is because his chair is swiveling around in circles, so he plants his feet on the floor to bring his movements to a halt. He then turns his attention to his monitor and types ‘Glorch.tv’ in the address bar, which thankfully autocorrects to Glitch.

“There’s no point in sacrificing my Rook to capture their knight, so I’ll hold off until that pesky roadblock of a pawn is dealt with—”

The stream finally loads, and Akira moans at the sight of his chess angel. Crow’s wearing another one of those slu*tty, slu*tty sweater vests Akira loves so much. What a damn tease. He looks like a cute, nerdy student assigned to be Akira’s tutor, and f*ck, isn’t that a visual? Crow would start the session acting so sweet and polite—he has to do this for credits, so he might as well avoid giving himself a headache. But Akira wouldn’t make it easy for him. He’ll pretend not to understand the material if it means keeping his senpai around longer.

“They’re trying to outrun me… Ha! Don’t tell me they’re attempting to wait out the clock!”

Crow’s patience would slowly melt away every time he had to re-explain the same concept. How is Akira not getting it? He must be missing some vital function in his brain! Was he dropped on his head as a baby?!

“Are you f*cking kidding me..? Do you want us to stay trapped here forever? Because I’ll keep us trapped here forever.”

But Crow would quickly realize his insults bounce right off Akira. There’s only one way out of this: to tempt Akira with a reward he can’t resist.

“If you’re banking on me making a mistake, you might want to rethink your strategy.”

Every time Akira gets an answer right, Crow lifts that cute little sweater vest to flash his tit*.

“Playing so poorly at this rating? Ahaha—! How are you not embarrassed?!”

And if Akira gets five answers correct—in a row, of course—Crow might even even let Akira touch his chest.

“You can’t run from me forever!”

And if Akira gets everything correct… Crow will let him suck on his tit* for a full minute.

“HAHAHA, FINALLY!”

Akira palms the bulge in his pants when the YOU WIN! notification pops up on screen, whimpering as Crow bares a set of ravenous teeth.

How the hell is he supposed to resist that smile?

“Hopefully my next opponent understands proper chess etiquette. If I wanted to waste my time, I would’ve played against a bot.”

His voice is like smooth velvet, flawless despite the occasional crackle of his microphone. Akira’s head swims imagining what Crow would say if Akira was his opponent. I really wish you weren’t such a disappointment to me. Perhaps I’ve misjudged you all this time. That is, if you truly gave that game your all.

Akira’s gut stirs just thinking about Crow speaking to him like that. His co*ck jumps beneath his palm imagining Crow speaking to him at all.

“Ergh, another player with a lower rating than mine. Frankly, I couldn’t care less about beating weak players. My sole intention on this website is to climb the leaderboard.”

Akira really wishes his ELO was higher so he could face Crow one-on-one. He doesn’t even remember what his chess.org rating is. Probably 1 or something.

‘Can we play together?’ Akira tries to type in chat, but when Crow narrows his eyes, staring down his opponent like he’s going to eat them alive, Akira’s brain goes completely blank.

Wouldn’t that be a worthy punishment? Akira wasted Crow’s time with his mediocre chess skills, now he’s forced to pay the price. To shut the f*ck up and put his mouth to good use. Crow wouldn’t even have to stop his stream. Akira could be his new chair, positioned just out of frame so Crow’s chat doesn’t have to look at him. He’s not worthy of their acknowledgement anyway—a failure who couldn’t hold his own in chess. Crow’s loyal pet. His nameless simp planted exactly where he wants to be.

“Don’t test me! I am 2400! You could be reincarnated for the rest of eternity, combine your ratings in every lifetime, and you will never reach 2400!”

It’s doing things to Akira, listening to Crow get more heated. If he was with Crow right now, smothered beneath his fat ass, he would soothe him with a hot tongue. And if Crow didn’t immediately melt against his mouth, Akira would tease him with gentle kisses. Quick and fleeting touches to distract Crow from his frustration, until he’s left with no choice but to grind his ass down and beg Akira to tonguef*ck him.

Akira doesn’t remember when exactly he got his co*ck out, but he has to type with one hand next time he sends a message in chat.

Crow doesn’t acknowledge Akira in chat, of course he doesn’t. But even while drunk and furiously jerking off, Akira can tell the exact moment Crow notices his messages. It’s only for a split second, with his eyes widening and his brows pinching before returning to a neutral stare, but it’s enough to have Akira throwing his head back and squeezing the head of his co*ck.

Crow needs a better camera. Whatever he's using now isn’t saturated enough to pick up the blush on his cheeks.

“I’d rather hold off on sacrificing my queen, 500bees. They’re banking on me not noticing their knight.”

Akira would buy him a new camera if he had a way to send it to Crow. And just for the hell of it, he’d throw in some lingerie for Crow to try on. And a dild* molded to the shape of his co*ck. As well as butt plug shaped like a giant chess piece—perhaps the bishop, that one seems the most phallic. Akira would also send him an entire collection of vibrators; anything for his Crow. A pair for his nipples, one to strap to his cute co*ck, and a range of various sizes to f*ck himself with. He could wear them all on stream if he wanted to. Try not to moan challenge, with a worthy punishment or reward based on how well he performs.

“Anyone who actually plays the London system should perish in a hellfire. Slowly. Until they die from asphyxiation rather than being burned alive.”

“sh*t.”

Akira’s pace speeds at the words, his fist soaked in precum as he messages his co*ck, imagining it’s Crow’s hand instead. His long, slender fingers that he occasionally rests on his chin while he’s thinking. He must use some kind of lotion, or maybe a hand cream to make them appear that soft. His hands would look gorgeous wrapped around Akira’s thick co*ck, and he would bully him throughout the entire handjob. How are you so big, Joker? What do you gain from lugging around this extra weight? I have to use two hands to deal with you. You better appreciate my efforts.

“Tremendous stuff, truly.”

Crow sounds so bored, so unimpressed, Akira f*cks harder into his fist in attempt to satiate him.

Crow’s frown only deepens after his opponent makes their move, but Akira couldn’t care less about the chessboard. His eyes are glued to Crow’s lips, coated in a shimmer that must come from a high quality chapstick. Akira imagines those pretty lips parting to kiss his tip, Crow’s cute tongue popping out to lick along the shaft. f*ck, who is he kidding? Crow wouldn’t be a tease. Crow would suck co*ck like he does everything else: confidently, smugly, viciously. He’d pretend to be disgusted on his knees for the likes of Joker, yet he’d take it all down his throat in one fell swoop, moaning and bobbing his head like a sex demon strapped to Akira’s dick.

“HAHA! They’re attempting to bait me with their pawn! Obviously I’m not falling for that sh*t. Do you think I was f*cking born yesterday?!”

f*ck. Automod, you f*cking co*ckblock. Whatever. It’s fine. Akira can dedicate his full attention to Crow’s webcam instead of attempting to type with one hand. He can stare at the ever-so-faint pinkness of his cheeks, the black pools of his pupils. Poor thing is clearly hot and bothered from Akira’s messages, but he refuses to give into the temptation. It’s okay to take a break, sweetheart, Akira would type if Automod hadn’t betrayed him, Just make sure to keep the camera on you while you make yourself cum.

“Ha! That one move lost you everything! Don’t bother pleading for mercy—it’s useless!”

Akira clenches his teeth as sweat beads on his forehead. “f*ck yes. Keep talking dirty like that.”

“To think I expected this to be a challenge—!”

Akira’s fully out of breath now, little whines escaping him with every quick exhale. He tries to hold on longer, to give Crow what he wants, to not be a disappointment, to f*ck Crow good and hard to the point of altering his brain chemistry forever, but Akira can’t last much longer.

“I can’t— Crow, you feel too good—”

“There’s no use in dawdling. Let me put you out of your misery.”

Electricity floods Akira’s veins, and it’s like a dam bursts when he shoots all over his hand, staining his t-shirt with his own cum. He doesn’t think about the party in his living room as chants of Crow’s name fall from his lips. Hell, it might even be loud enough for Ann’s stream to hear. But Akira really couldn’t give a f*ck about anything else right now. Not when he’s this drunk, feeling this good, and Crow’s voice is like a blanket snuggling him after a mindblowing f*ck.

“It appears that’s my victory. Yet another inadequate performance. Pathetic. Ah, thank you for the subscription, JellyfishFanatic16.”

It’s impressive how quickly Crow goes from cruel and callous to sweet and saccharine. Akira’s co*ck twitches, and another spurt of cum seeps from his slit from his voice alone. Coming down from the high, Akira has the foresight to wipe off his dick and tuck himself back into his pants before falling asleep to the sound of Crow’s chess gameplay.

Akira wakes up to a flurry of texts, Piscord messages, and Yapper notifications the next morning. Seven missed calls from Ann, and it’s barely 11AM. Can’t she wait for him to make his coffee before asking him to throw away discarded Fountain Dew cans from last night?

Scrolling further down the notifications on his homescreen, however, Akira gradually grows more confused.

While there’s an endless abyss of notifications to scroll through, Ryuji seems like the only person offering an explanation for whatever Akira did to deserve such scrutiny, so he decides to start there.

…Boyfriend?

Akira clicks on the link to get to the bottom of this, unsurprised to see @jokerupdating is the culprit once again.

And the attached pictures… they’re screenshots of everything Akira has typed in Crow’s chat. Everything. There’s even messages Akira doesn’t remember sending. When was he asking Crow if he’s a virgin? And something about the dentist..?

Akira remembers getting drunk last night, definitely. And he remembers partaking in a casual stroking session while watching Crow play chess, fantasizing about Crow sitting on his face, all normal things. But was he really providing live jerk off commentary in Crow’s chat?

And after all that, he still didn’t get Crow to show ass?!

He decides to scroll through the comments and quote-yaps on @jokerupdating’s post, just to see if there’s anyone as upset about this as he is.

Truly, no one understands Akira’s pain, not even @jokerupdating.

“We have some rumors we need to address.”

Sixty-five thousand people are currently waiting for Joker to acknowledge his actions, his chat flying at a speed too fast to read. There’s some who are disappointed in Akira’s horniness, and there’s others who are twice as horny as he is, sending messages far more suggestive than anything Akira would type in Crow’s chat, even while drunk and jerking off.

“I’m sure many of you are dying to know.” Akira runs a hand through his hair with a sigh. This is it. Here’s where he finally puts all this hearsay to bed. “I didn’t actually stick my dick in peanut butter. Chat— Chat, we’ve been over this. I was speaking theoretically when I said crunchy would feel— No. You guys are twisting my words. I said it would be more stimulating. That could mean in a good way or a bad way. It’s like getting a blowj*b with teeth.”

“Okay, okay, there’s clearly a more important matter you guys want me to talk about. I didn’t mean to steal the toaster from Akiba Electronics. I was considering buying the toaster—at full price, mind you—and then Oracle started waving at me from outside because she found a capsule machine with Mona merch in it. Obviously I had to see that. Wha— yeah, of course I’ve met Oracle IRL. She comes out of her cave like once a year.”

“Oracle, you literally have yaoi posters in your room. I don’t mean dudes kissing, I’m talking full on penetration here.”

“Don’t get me wrong, they look great. But you don’t have any room to talk. Anyway.” Akira sighs as he drags a PNG of press conference microphones onto his screen. “Enough beating around the bush. I know why you’re all here. It’s about my recent behavior.”

“I haven’t played Dirtnite in a long time, and I know you’re all disappointed in me. You’re always telling me how much you love that game, but I got tired of stream snipers. Besides, I still have to grind to resplendent rank before the Valuerant season ends.”

“Thank you all for your patience and understanding. I was thinking we could start today’s stream with—”

Akira pauses when his chat shifts from a wall of emotes to frantic spamming of the same message.

“Crow’s live?!”

He actually went live? He didn’t see…it, did he?

Akira rushes to open Crow’s channel as quickly as possible. Luckily he already has the link bookmarked beneath his address bar.

His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach, however, when he sees Crow’s stream has already accumulated an impressive three thousand viewers.

“Ch-chat, be cool! He hasn’t met you guys yet—! Meeting someone’s chat is a big deal! W-we have to make a good first impression..! If I can’t even control my chat, what does that say about my parenting abilities?!”

“W-wait! He’s gonna think I sent you guys to his stream! Just… Don’t mention me!”

Akira’s heart rate skyrockets watching Crow’s view count jump to eight thousand.

“L-listen, he’s a great streamer! He’s really good at chess, and he’s smart and well spoken! He’s confident and smug and naturally good at everything! He’s… he’s bratty… slu*tty…”

Akira trails off when Crow takes a seat at his desk. He’s dressed in a short sleeve button up rather than his button up/sweater vest combo. Akira can see his upper arms… scandalous. He quickly sends a mental prayer to any god who might be listening that Crow will accidentally spill a bucket of water all over his thin white shirt.

“I decided to take a chance on the virtual Featherman trading card game I’ve been hearing about. I tested it last night and experimented with a few decks, and I do enjoy the strategizing that comes with each duel. Chess will begin in an hour or so. I believe I’ll be able to reach International Master today.”

Akira feels his co*ck stirring at the words alone, but he fights against his urge to simp. He can’t get a boner in front of his chat… He refuses to.

“This is the card deck I created last night. Feather Toucan for buffs, Feather Argus for healing, Feather Ostrich for physical damage, and Red Hawk for maximum damage output. ‘Have you seen Red Hawk’s summer skin?’ Yes, I have, and to put it bluntly, I don’t think that outfit is very fitting of his character. A speedo? That kind of fanservice is why I refused to touch this game for so long.”

“I wish you would touch me,” Akira sighs. It’s incredible how Crow can ignore every message related to Joker despite his chat being flooded with Joker’s viewers. Maybe he has some kind of anti-Joker filter. Or he’s trained himself to disregard every message mentioning Joker in any way. Either way, it’s extremely sexy.

“This game has plenty of cards to collect as you gain levels, but it also has cards that are exclusively behind a paywall. What bullsh*t is that? If you’re too stupid to win a strategy game without opening your wallet, perhaps Duels of a Feather: The Trading Card Game is too advanced for the likes of you.”

“Chat, we can’t just sit here and react to his stream, can we? I think that’s against Glitch TOS.”

“But if you’re a good enough player, it’s still possible to outsmart those who rely on flashy, monetary means. I’ll prove as much if we encounter one of these, mm, whales, I believe they’re called.”

“But he’s so sexy…”

“I myself am a beginner, admittedly, but I’ve picked up on a number of helpful strategies many of my opponents have yet to utilize. First is setting up a technical with Red Hawk’s burning amplifier and a wind move by Feather Argus.”

“Can you guys believe he’s never shown his ass on screen? No ootd, no morning stretches. Not once! Every time he leaves to make tea he awkwardly side-steps out of his room to make sure chat can’t see his backside. Or he’ll put a black screen in front of his camera until he comes back. I swear he’s doing this just to spite me. He is so into me.”

“Another strategy is filling up the magatsuhi meter, but that’s more suited for a longer game. Most of these duels against lesser skilled players rely solely on damage. It’s a shame, truly. I’d prefer a challenge against stronger players. Even now, I’m certain I can crush them.”

“‘Skill-based matchmaking,’ hm? Thank you, Naoto-kun. I’ll adjust the setting after this… Ha! That was over quickly. Was that blunder on purpose, or are you really that incompetent?”

“Chat, I don’t know how much longer I can keep his stream open. I feel like we’re watching p*rn together.”

Right when Akira’s about to close Crow’s stream (AKA move it to his second monitor where his chat can’t see it), Crow queues in for his next duel, and something about his opponent catches Akira’s eye.

“Is that…”

“HAHAHA, this person’s ENTIRE deck is pay to win cards! They even have that ridiculous Red Hawk summer card! And what terrible synergy. Three damage dealers and one Christmas skin Feather Green? How are you playing Grey Pigeon without a healer? Unless this paid version has more hit points than his base card, this strategy seems completely inane!”

Squinting closer, Akira confirms it. The username of the pay to win player is none other than the internet hall monitor who lurks in Joker’s chat on the daily: Oracle.

“First I’m going to use Feather Toucan’s Heat Riser skill to buff all of Red Hawk’s stats. It’s a slow start, but I assure you it’ll pay off in the—”

Rather than setting up with any support characters, Oracle begins her first move by attacking Crow’s green featherman (Akira doesn’t know their names, but he’d be willing to learn for his future trophy husband) and immediately one-shotting the character in a single blow.

Crow twitches.

“I see. This version of Grey Pigeon has Self Mutilation. Avid watchers of the show will know he has to wound himself in order to use that move, but it seems this paid insult to his character has him do no such thing. How the hell is the feather community not outraged by such a disservice?”

Crow uses his Feather Pink (Akira knows she’s the most popular, but for the life of him can’t seem to remember her name) to shield his Red Hawk, to which Oracle retaliates by one-shotting his Pink with Grey Pigeon’s sexy sword move.

“God f*cking dammit—! Well, after spending this much money on pixels, it’s no wonder they don’t want to waste their time strategizing. Two can certainly play at that game.”

Crow uses his Feather Yellow to hit Grey Pigeon with a lightning effect, but the attack reflects off the card and strikes Crow’s Yellow instead, taking out the card in a single hit.

“What—? Grey Pigeon isn’t immune to lightning damage..! So how..?! Is this another effect of the skin? It can’t be… But when did you have time to use an item to reflect magic? And how could you have possibly negated Feather Ostrich’s lightning immunity?!”

That leaves Crow with only one card left.

“And season 2 episode 21, season 2 episode 9, season 4 episode 1, 2, and 3, season 5 episode 6 and 17.”

“Season 1 episode 19, season 3 episode 3.”

“Are… Are they bonding?”

“Ah, that battle does last for four episodes, doesn’t it?”

“Who do you guys think is gonna win?” Akira asks his chat.

Oracle makes the finishing blow then, Grey pigeon using a physical attack that slices through Red Hawk’s shield, ignores his defense buff, and completely depletes his HP. Crow’s disdain immediately makes itself evident.

“As expected from someone who paid for all their cards. You play like a toddler who was given access to a sledgehammer. Unsportsmanlike. Disrespectful.”

Crow looks about ready to tear his PC apart wire by wire. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

Akira perks up like a dog who heard the word ‘walk.’ “He’s standing up?!”

He leans forward to get a better view of his monitor, fingers hovering over the screenshot keyboard command.

“Chat… This is it…!”

But he only gets a brief glimpse of Crow’s leg before he exits his stream room.

“God dammit.”

“GOD f*ckING DAMMIT!”

“Every time I get close to a hint of relief—”

“YOU PIECE OF sh*t. YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME—?!”

“—He tears it away from me!”

“YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY— THE NERVE TO COME INTO MY CHAT BOX—”

“All I ask for is a peek—”

“—TO LOWER MY GUARD BY REMINISCING ON RED HAWK AND GREY PIGEON’S RIVALRY—”

“—A glimpse—”

“—ONLY TO sh*tTALK ME—”

“—of that juicy ass—!”

“—WHEN YOU HAVE NO STRATEGY, NO METHODICAL STAT BOOSTS—”

“—Yet he continues to gatekeep it from me—?!”

“—ONLY BRAINLESS, NONSENSICAL ATTACKS—”

“—I mean, I get it, this whole ignoring me thing is his way of flirting—”

“—YET IT WORKED?! HAHAHA! THIS GAME IS f*ckING BROKEN—!”

“—But sometimes I wish he’d throw me a bone—!”

“—DID THE DEVELOPERS DISREGARD THE INTEGRITY OF THE SERIES—?!”

“—And by throw me a bone, I mean bend over with his back arched—”

“—THAT FARCE WOULDN’T LAST A DAY IN THE PITS OF A REAL STRATEGY GAME—”

“—Why, chat? Why must I be tortured like this—?”

“—f*ck THIS!” Crow is clearly still heated when he marches back into the room, swiveling in an angry half circle in his chair. “I’m playing chess.”

“...I suddenly have the urge to play chess.”

A week of daily streams fly by in the blink of an eye. Akira’s lost count of the Valuerant games he’s thrown because chat was spamming “CROW MENTIONED YOU ON STREAM!” Despite constantly being fooled, Akira checks every time. Only once was his chat technically telling the truth, when Crow thanked someone named jokersoup for subscribing.

After Yapper and ClikClok blew up with the soundbite, Crow has since stopped acknowledging any subscribers or donations with Joker in the name. It’s honestly not surprising considering all the ‘JokerxCrow’s, ‘Ilovejoker’s, and ‘JokerHasAMonsterco*ck’s that have subscribed.

Since Joker’s chat messages leaked, Crow’s view count has averaged to around 5000, which is impressive considering he had about 20 viewers during Akira’s infamous jerk off session. Akira’s also noticed more and more Yapper and Glitch users with Crow in their username. There’s even a Crow update account on Yapper—and they’re completely unaffiliated with @jokerupdating! Unfortunately the account immediately blocked Akira after he reyapped one of their posts.

“Chat, what shade would fit Joker better, midnight black or black moon? Ooh, you’re right! Black velvet it is~”

After one full week of Joker being a simp on main, he and Ann are finally doing the cosplay stream they promised, with Ann currently picking which shades of makeup to smother all over his face and Sumire curling the black extensions Ann provided.

“Let’s start with foundation,” Ann chimes as she compares various shades to Akira’s face. “Ugh, your skin is so clear. Do you even need foundation?”

“What kind of moisturizer do you use, Joker-senpai?” Sumire asks.

“Moisturizer..? Does water count?”

“Oh! Do you use lotion?”

“...Does water count?”

“He has no skincare products. And he uses 2-in-1 shampoo! Can you believe that? His hair is so soft!”

Ann grabs a fistful of Akira’s hair and pulls as though trying to lift it off his head to show Sumire.

“Ow—!”

“Whoops, sorry! I don’t want to disturb the rats’ nest.”

“Meow~!”

Akira’s PC pings with a recording of Morgana’s meow, the sound signaling someone sent him a donation.

“Joker-senpai, you received a 500 yen donation from Loki62841946581038!” Sumire beams. “They said ‘It’s obvious he doesn’t use any skincare products. His lips are chapped and his face is dryer than his… dumbf*ck sense of humor…? Maybe if you drank water instead of Fountain Dew you would look less decrepit?! D-don’t even get me started on the hair, it looks like something… crawled in there to die…’” Sumire’s frown deepens the longer she reads, looking like a kicked puppy by the time she reaches the end. “Oh.”

“Something did die in there,” Ann chuckles. “It was the rats.”

“Hey, thanks for the 500 yen, Loki628…” Akira’s brows pinch as he trails off. “How the hell do you remember your username? Is that pi or something?”

“Sounds like an alt account,” Ann says as she dabs concealer beneath Akira’s eyes. “Probably got banned on their main.”

“Aw, I think they miss me.”

Another meow plays from Akira’s computer.

“‘I-it’s not pi, you… incognizant co*ckbrain. Did you ever go to school or did you skip right to being a… a lowlife with no skills other than jerking himself off..?’”

“co*ckbrain? I’ve never heard that one before.”

“They’re not wrong,” Ann snorts.

“Mods, don’t ban them. That thousand yen is going directly into your paycheck.”

“Meow~!”

Sumire visibly shakes at the donation sound. “I don’t want to read these anymore.”

“Hey, dudes. Joker, your skin looks so concealed!” Ryuji plops down in the seat next to Akira, presumably having let himself in. “Ooh, you got a dono, man!” He leans in to read the message on screen before promptly leaning away. “Oh. Heh. I’m not readin’ that.”

“What are you doing here?” Ann asks as she dusts Joker’s eyelids with black makeup. “Come to see me work my magic?”

“You’re doin’ the cosplay stream today, right?”

Ann pointedly glances at her mountain of makeup, wigs, and accessories. “Yes.”

“Hell yeah! I’m right on time!”

“Wait, you want to get your makeup done, Ryuji?”

“You invited me, remember?”

“I remember you being in the same room when I invited Joker.”

“Exactly!”

Ann hums as she presses a blonde extension to the side of Ryuji’s hair. “Yeah, I can make this work. Chat, what shade: pink sugar or ballet slipper?”

.

.

With his makeup and hair done, Akira scrolls through Yapper while he waits for Ann to finish Ryuji’s makeover.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you look great, Ryuji!”

Ann holds up a hand mirror for Ryuji to get a good look, answered by an offended yowl from the boy.

“Dude! You turned me into you!”

“You do resemble Panther-senpai quite a bit…”

Akira looks up from his phone to examine Ryuji’s makeover, and he has to restrain a snort at the sight of the off-brand Ann in the room.

“The only extensions I have that match your hair color are my own! What did you expect?!”

“Hold up,” Ryuji interrupts. “Are you sayin’ your pigtails are fake?”

“Uh, that’s… moving on!”

“Anyway, I scoured the Magazine-I’m-Not-Allowed-To-Name-Yet vault and picked out the perfect outfit for you, Joker! And Skull… I might have something in my closet that’ll fit you..! Joker, start getting dressed while I go look. It’ll take you a while to put on all that leather.”

“I really hope you’re not dressing me up in some BDSM outfit.”

“Um… It depends on your definition of BDSM.”

Akira sighs. “Babysit my chat while I’m gone.”

“You got it, man.”

About fifteen minutes later, Akira waddles back into his stream room to find a paused cat ClikClok on his monitor while Ann and Sumire discuss whether or not animals speak the same language. The squeak of leather brings their conversation to a halt, Ann immediately lighting up at the sight of her handiwork.

“Joker, you look hot!”

“S-senpai, you’re such a handsome woman!”

“I feel like I’m wearing a straitjacket,” Akira mutters. “Are you sure you picked the right size?”

“Just because it’s not a loose t-shirt doesn’t mean it’s the wrong size. It shows off your shoulders!”

“And my entire dick.”

“I… I wouldn’t say entire.”

“I look like a failed clone of yourself,” Ryuji bristles as he appears in the doorway. His grimace is replaced by surprise, however, when he lays his eyes on Akira’s leather cop outfit. “Woah, dude. I can see your entire dick.”

Akira pointedly looks at Ann.

“Whatever. It’s nothing your chat hasn’t seen before. Now put on the shoes and show them your outfit before they crucify me!”

Ann then hands Akira a pair of knee-high leather stilettos.

“Those look like a medieval torture device.”

“Quit your crying. Don’t pretend you don’t love it when your chat thirsts over you.”

Akira sighs before taking the shoes and plopping down on his bed. As he starts to put them on, he’s immediately met by the visceral reactions of his friends.

“Dude—! Don’t flash us!”

“T-those tights really don’t hide anything!”

“Wow, that skirt is shorter than I thought it was—!”

“Here it is, chat,” Akira says as he waddles in front of his webcam. The objectifying emotes are already flying in. What is he, a piece of meat? “I swear to god, Ann, if I get permabanned for showing co*ck I am not moving to GooTube.”

“Yeah, something tells me your chat would rather watch you on another site,” Ann quips. “Come on, work the camera! You too, Ryuji!”

“Ugh, quit bossin’ me around— Hey, wait. This skirt makes my calves look hella ripped!”

“Meow~!”

“1500 yen from PantherChic!” Sumire reads. “It says, uh… ‘p-punish us, Joker-chan.’”

“Give the people what they want, Joker~” Ann teases.

“I’m not giving you guys more jerk off material.”

“They clearly want it~”

“Yeah, and peach_guts just asked me to ‘show bush.’ Sometimes they don’t always get what they want.”

“What about for a sub goal?” Sumire suggests.

“The punishing or the showing bush?”

“The one that won’t get you permanently banned from this website,” Ann huffs. “How about one hundred subs in a minute?”

“I’m not going to beg my chat for money.”

“Two hundred?”

“...Five hundred and it’s a deal. You have sixty seconds.”

“Meow~!”

“Meow~!”

“Meow~!”

“Meow~!”

Akira cringes as sub after sub begins to pour in.

“Meow~!”

“Meow~!”

“Ara ara, master~ Would you like some co*ck with that omurice?”

“God dammit.”

“F-five hundred subs?” Sumire reads. “That’s like 250000 yen!”

“You know what? I kind of respect it. I’ll definitely be stealing that move later.”

“Dude, why do you have that as one of your sub bells?”

“We put it to a vote, and that’s the one chat picked. We’re a democracy around here.”

“Why did you say that on stream at all?!”

“It was from my catboy maid stream. You know, when I bet I could beat Train of Life in an hour.”

“For real? I heard Oracle beat it in thirty minutes!”

“That doesn’t sound like punishment, Joker~”

Akira sighs. Sometimes he feels like his job is the closest thing to a modern day court jester.

“250000 yen, huh?” he starts, swallowing heavily. “I’m afraid I’ll have to bring you in for questioning under suspicion of money laundering.”

“Booo, you can do better than that,” Ann—the queen in this court jester metaphor—heckles.

“If you can’t find the means to cover your debt, I’m sure we can find other ways for you to pay.” Akira unclips the handcuffs from his belt and spins them around his index finger. “And we’ll be taking your house.”

“Just look at this huge window in the bedroom! I wouldn’t even have to use a ring light for my streams!”

Akira’s currently shoveling down mouthfuls of chips with his feet propped up on his desk. On one monitor is a paused video titled ‘Become an EXPERT at chess with one simple video! The only tutorial you’ll need to SKYROCKET your ELO 💹’ and on his second monitor is Ann and Shiho’s apartment hunting stream. All the options they’ve looked at thus far have been a bust, whether they had leaky pipes, thin walls, were located on the outskirts of the city, or in one case, the landlord was running a cult in the basem*nt. This is the first building where Ann has nothing negative to say.

“Wait, wait, Shiho. Do you hear that?”

“Uh… Hear what, Ann?”

“Exactly! There’s no neighbors stomping around upstairs! It’s perfect!”

“Joker, we’ve been over this. Your apartment is too far from my agency! But I’m still close enough to visit whenever I want. I’ll probably swing by every morning to get some of your coffee. It’s way better than Frostbucks.”

“Wouldn’t you die happy knowing Mona had a good hearty meal? ‘Are you moving in with Shiho?’ Heheh, I guess the cat’s out of the bag~! Her lease is ending next month—which was part of the incentive to move back home. Her apartment never has any hot water, and her internet is terrible! If she streamed, she wouldn’t make it ten minutes without her internet going out. No, guys, don’t get your hopes up. Even with good internet I doubt she’ll take up streaming. Though last time I thought that about a friend I was proven wrong.”

“Don’t worry, with us living together, she’ll make tons of appearances on my stream! Just like how Joker and I have been streaming together a lot this month! Oh… Too soon?”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic. You can visit me too, you know. Ooh, the realtor’s back! Be on your best behavior, chat~”

It’ll be a bit sad not having Ann around when Akira just got used to having a roommate. But he doesn’t doubt she’ll be visiting often. Ryuji pops over unannounced all the time, especially after Akira gave him that spare key—

“Dude!”

Akira jumps when the blonde manifests at his doorway.

“When did you get here?!”

“Just now. Were you watching a chess tutorial?”

“No!” Akira frantically closes the Gootube tab displaying the chess tutorial. “What’s up?”

“So I was in Kichijoji droppin’ off some old clothes, and then I stopped at Big Bang Burger—y’know, the one right next to the temple—‘cause that was a lotta freakin’ work. And you’ll never guess who I saw there.”

“Risette?”

“No, dude. Crow. Like, the streamer you’re obsessed with? Or have some kinda weird situationship with. Anyway, he was workin’ there, which is crazy ‘cause you’ve definitely given him twice his monthly salary.”

Akira feels numb as he processes this information. “You…saw him?”

“Yeah. I recognize him pretty well considering you put him all over my Yapper homepage.”

“...In person?”

“Yeah. The Big Bang Burger by the temple, remember?”

“...When exactly was this?”

“Uhhh, fifteen minutes ago?”

Suddenly Akira’s brain is back online. “We have to go!”

He springs out of his chair while stream-Ann tells the realtor she ‘totally wants to get this place,’ grabbing Ryuji by the arm and rushing out of his apartment before he can properly convey his dismay.

“Woah, why do I gotta come with you?!”

“For support!”

.

.

After running to the train station, running through Kichijoji, and walking past the temple (out of respect), Akira and Ryuji burst into Big Bang Burger like two men on a mission. Well, more like one man on a mission and another man who doesn’t really understand what mission they’re on and is kind of wary about the whole thing.

“Where is he?!”

“Uh, he was behind the counter when I was here. He was wearin’ the uniform—and his hat had a hot dog on it. Apparently they’re sellin’ hot dogs now.”

Akira will burn this place to the ground if he missed Crow wearing a weiner hat.

“And did he see you? How did he react? Do you think he recognized you?”

“I mean, he was workin’ the register when I ordered. And he seemed really annoyed, but I think he was actin’ that way with everyone. Then he went into the employees’ only room after takin’ my order… Now that I think about it, I did hear a blood-curdling scream.”

“He must be on his break. Think we should wait?”

“Do we have to?”

“You’re right, we should ask someone first.”

Akira drags Ryuji to the counter, where he’s met by an unenthusiastic cashier.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, actually. I’m looking for…” Akira frowns as he trails off. He can’t exactly tell her he’s looking for Crow. Sorry, we don’t sell bird meat here. “Um… an angel.”

Ryuji sighs. “The brown haired guy who works here. About this tall. And… what color are his eyes, dude?”

“Dark molten lava. Like raspberry frosting on a chocolate cake, or a cinnamon candied apple—”

“Red eyes,” Ryuji translates.

“And his hair isn’t brown. It’s golden chestnut.”

“Are you talking about Akechi? I haven’t seen him today. Are you going to order something or not?”

“Does Crow seem like an Akechi to you?” Ryuji attempts to whisper. The cashier clearly hears him, based on her unamused stare.

“Kind of? I haven’t really thought about what his name might be.”

“He just doesn’t look like an Akechi to me.”

“What is an Akechi supposed to look like?”

“Don’t ask me!”

Their whispered conversation is cut short by a ping sounding from Akira’s phone.

“Wait—! Crow posted on Yapper!”

“You have his Yap notifications on?”

Akira doesn’t answer as he taps on the alert and waits for the app to load.

“He… he quit.”

“Quit what?”

“His job—Big Bang Burger. He’s going to stream full time.”

“For real? He saw me walk in and immediately quit?”

“I doubt it has anything to do with you. It’s not like he recognized you as one of my friends, assumed you would tell me where he works, and then quit so I wouldn’t be able to find him. He’s probably been planning this for a while.”

“Right…”

Akira’s too busy typing his reply to notice Ryuji’s skeptism.

“Wait a minute… I might actually win here…”

“Move your rook to g8 and you’ll have their king in check.”

Akira is currently being coached by the highest rated chess streamer on Glitch to improve his skills. Of course he decided to stream his lesson, just so Crow will know Akira’s serious about becoming his rival.

Akira moves his rook to g8, trapping the opponent’s king in a corner, and lo and behold, the YOU WIN! banner pops up as soon as he makes the move.

“Holy sh*t, you’re a wizard, grandmaster-sama! I’ve never been able to beat the easy bot before! I mean— the mega extreme nightmare bot that even grandmasters struggle against…”

“Now you know how to avoid stalemate. It’s important to keep the opponent’s king in check with every move. Let’s play against the intermediate bot this time.”

“The intermediate bot..? Don’t you think it’s pointless to play beneath my level?”

“Just click on it, Joker.”

“Got it.”

After being coached through beating the easy, intermediate, and hard bots, grandmaster-sama decides Akira is ready to face real players and raise his rating from 1. Apparently it’s the lowest rating grandmaster-sama has ever seen. Akira coughs loudly when she says that in case Crow is listening.

“Sooo, grandmaster-sama,” he drawls as he moves a pawn forward. “What do you think about FeatherCrow?”

“The streamer? No— don’t take that pawn; they’ll capture your knight in return. I heard he’s getting close to becoming a grandmaster. I’ve tuned into his streams here and there, and while I do think he’s an impeccable player, I don’t necessarily appreciate his affinity for trash-talking.”

“Really? You don’t find it provocative, seductive, and also sexy?”

“I can understand the appeal to some viewers. God knows the chess scene has its fair share of feuds to build up hype. But it’s uncalled for when he’s playing against lesser skilled players. Move your queen, otherwise their bishop will take.”

Akira does just that. “He kinda has to play against worse players to farm a higher rating. Did you hear he got banned from IRL tournaments for basically no reason?”

“I hadn’t heard about that. What a shame, considering what an incredible player he is. Perhaps I can use my connections to get him reinstated. Yes, I see you eyeing that pawn. Go ahead and take.”

Akira takes the pawn.

“But telling beginners they’re bad at the game will only push them to give up. How would you feel if Crow told you you were trash at chess and you should feel ashamed for disrespecting the board?”

“Um… Definitely not horny. Haha… But if he did say that, hypothetically, would you think he’s into me?”

“Into you? Uh, maybe he wants to stick a knife into you. Knight g5.”

“I can work with that.” Akira moves his knight to g5.

“Even though he’s not a grandmaster, at the pace he’s going, he’s the first player on Glitch who might actually challenge my #1 position.”

“What about me, grandmaster-sama?”

“You, uh— no! You could’ve taken their queen with your rook.”

“Oh. Whoops.”

“That’s okay. You’ve already broken through most of their defense. Anyway, why do you ask about Crow?”

“Uhhh…”

Akira glances at his chat for help. Unfortunately grandmaster-sama instructed him to set it to emote only mode so no one gives him any bad chess advice. Trying to decipher whatever they’re trying to tell him is like reading hieroglyphics.

“I’d really like to f*ck him some day.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Play him. I’d like to play against him some day.”

“Oh, you must’ve cut out for a moment there. Crow does have a beautiful playstyle. Any chess connoisseur can admire his craft, whether I agree with his behavior or not. It’s rare to find someone who plays so boldly. Take their knight.”

Akira quickly mutes himself on the call. “Guys, did I salvage that?”

“Okay, good.” With chat’s approval, Akira unmutes himself. “Yeah, he’s great at chess. Anyway, do you think he’s a virgin? Based on how he plays?”

“...Take their knight, Joker.”

Becoming a Chess Grandmaster on Chess.Org Tonight | Road to Reaching 3000 ELO, is the title of Crow’s stream. CROW GRANDMASTER CELEBRATION PARTY, is the title of Joker’s stream as he reacts to Crow’s chess marathon. He’s currently wearing a party hat and a shirt with Crow’s face on it that he got printed at Triple Seven. He sits in front of a greenscreen firework display, and he has a cake in his fridge that he’ll slice into when the big moment happens. It has congrats at beating chess written on it in icing letters.

“Just look at that defense, chat. It’s like he built a house around that king. And the knight e4 bishop c5 combo? Oh, he’s reaching 3000 in no time.”

“What the hell was that? How are you rated 2800 making such lamentable mistakes.”

“What kind of dumbass plays rook a2 for no reason? Are they playing the dumbass gambit?”

“They’re clearly stumped on how to properly defend. It’s helpless at this stage anyway. It’ll be over quickly.”

Crow moves a bishop, and that’s the game, signaled by the YOU WIN! pop-up displaying over the screen.

“Let’s f*cking go! Against a 2800? That’s huge for us! He’s undefeatable! Let’s see that score—refresh, refresh. 2954! Holy sh*t, what a dub!”

“They had no reason to have such a high rating. They must’ve accidentally won their last few games to reach this level. I was simply putting them in their place—much like putting down a dog.”

Crow queues up for the next game, and his opponent’s rating nearly has Akira jumping out of his seat.

“3100?! Holy sh*t, chat, if Crow wins this one… Should I go get the cake? No, I don’t want to jinx anything. sh*t, sh*t. Prayer circle. Everyone join hands.”

“Now this is interesting. Bishop d4, hm? My opponent is none the wiser. This gives me an opportunity to test a move I’ve been wanting to try.”

“Did Crow just put knight at e2 unironically?! The madman.”

“Push their queen right into f4… and this is where I torch them.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, he took their queen. It’s happening”

“Hahaha! Oh, this board is looking delectable~”

“He’s trying to trick them into moving their pawn to c4, isn’t he? That’ll lock down the center for him! They put knight at e5, Crow takes their knight, bishop h7, queen h5—!”

“—bishop h7, eradicate that pawn. HAHAHA, their king is wide open! Queen h5—!”

“Queen h7—!”

The YOU WIN! banner appears after Crow moves his queen, and Akira is on his feet and running circles around his room in an instant.

“HE DID ITTTTTT..! GRANDMASTER CROW IS REAL! Wait, f*ck— The cake—! But what if he gives a speech while I’m gone?! f*ck, f*ck… ANN! AAAAAANNNNNNN!”

“WHAT?!”

“CAN YOU GET ME THE CAKE IN THE FRIDGE?”

“UGH, FINE.”

“What a massacre! And that brings my rating to a renowned 3025. Of course, I’d prefer being deemed a grandmaster in an in-person tournament, but for previously mentioned reasons, that won’t be happening.”

“Why do you have a giant cake? My party isn’t until—” Ann sets the box on the desk and opens the lid, sighing as she reads the message scrawled in icing. “Yeah, I don’t know why I asked.”

Akira pauses in the midst of gifting 3000 subs to Crow’s chat. “Do you want some?”

“Of course I do.”

“Thank you for the question, Shogi_Queen. I would like to officially confirm my grandmaster status in person, but the Chess Japan organization is violently discriminative toward those who exert homicidal tendencies. As of right now, I’ve heard the highest rating of any Glitch streamer is 3350, and I doubt that will be difficult for me to surpass—”

Feeding Morgana a slice of the cat-friendly cake, Akira’s interrupted by his phone pinging in his pocket.

“What the? Who has the nerve to disturb me during Crow’s grandmaster stream—?” Akira trails off as he examines the Yapper notification. “Woah, I just got a dm from Chess Japan. ‘Hi there, Jonker. We saw you reached 1500 on chess.org; congratulations! We’d like to invite you to our upcoming summer tournament in Tokyo. Our registration form can be found here.’ They want me to compete in a tournament? Can you believe this sh*t, Ann?!”

Ann glances up with a mouthful of cake. “Hmn?”

“They’re inviting me to a tournament, yet they have the audacity to ban Crow? What kind of injustice is that?!”

“Weelllll, you didn’t threaten to petrol bomb your opponent’s parents’ house.”

“Allegedly.”

“No, it was pretty ledged.”

“I refuse to compete in any tournaments unless Crow is invited. You hear that, Chess Japan?”

“Are you sure you want to play against Crow?” Ann asks. “I’m worried that might alter your personality in ways I don’t want to witness.”

“I’m not saying I have to play against him. He just deserves to be unbanned. Don’t get me wrong, it’s my dream to play against him, but we wouldn’t even be in the same division. Even online we’d never get paired against each other. His rank is so much higher than mine.”

“Oracle, don’t talk about my boners.”

Akira’s eyes widen when he glances one chat message higher.

“Wait… You can put us in a game together.”

“Can I open that on stream?”

Akira cautiously opens the link on his off-stream monitor.

“WOAH, no I CANNOT. You really expect me to buy you that?

Akira sighs. The things he does for romance.

“Alright, I’m adding it to my cart. Start working your magic while I check out.”

“The night is still young,” Crow muses on stream. Subscriptions and donations continue to fly through his chat in celebration of his achievement. Akira’s looking forward to the fic and fanart that’ll flood his Yapper timeline tonight. “I don’t see any harm in playing a few more games.”

Akira mashes the link like he’s playing a Feather Party 8 minigame.

The game loads, and Akira’s soul ascends from his body when his opponent’s name appears on screen.

[GM] FeatherCrow (3025) 🇯🇵

joker420 (1511) 🇯🇵

“f*ck, f*ck. Ann, are you also getting hard from this?”

“I’m leaving.”

Ann marches out of the room with Morgana in tow.

“I’ve been dreaming about this moment for—f*ck, I don’t know, months? I can feel the heat radiating off his mouse over mine. H-he’s so close… Do you think he knows it’s me?”

Crow does not verbally address Joker, he doesn’t comment on the fact that his opponent is rated so low. In fact, he doesn’t say anything beyond an unimpressed ‘hm.’

Akira starts by moving a pawn, and Crow still doesn’t acknowledge him beyond making his own opening move.

Sweat starts to build on Akira’s temples. He can win this. He’ll play the double-knight opening grandmaster-sama taught him and develop his pieces from there.

Crow captures one of Joker’s pawns, and Joker steals Crow’s pawn in return.

“Ohhhh, f*ck. It’s like we touched tips.”

Akira can do this—Joker can do this. He has his bishops in play, ready to jump across the board when needed. There will be no consequence for Crow if he loses, at least as far as rating goes. Oracle’s magic website has no real effect on ELO. But it’ll bruise Crow’s ego. It’ll hit him where it hurts. It’ll knock him down a peg, and hopefully knock him onto his knees in the process, staring up at Joker with steamy eyes and parted lips. He’ll finally realize Joker is worthy of respect, a rival of equal standing, fully capable of keeping up with Crow all day and all night.

All Joker has to do is castle—

Crow moves his queen diagonally across the board, instantly putting Joker in check.

YOU LOSE!

The game ends, and Crow is already queueing in for his next match.

“That was a quick one. Hopefully my next opponent actually knows how to play.”

Akira stares blankly at his screen, his blurred reflection staring back at him.

He doesn’t even have to look at his chat to know they’re spamming clown Morgana emotes.

“‘Don’t you think five hundred cupcakes is a little much?’ Chatter, you underestimate how many cupcakes Ann and Sumi can shovel down.”

Akira’s currently streaming from his kitchen while he bakes the aforementioned five hundred cupcakes for Ann’s housewarming party. The usual suspects are sitting at the counter, Ryuji, Morgana, and Ann. The latter should probably be decorating her new apartment for tonight’s party, but she instead opted for bothering Akira on his cooking stream.

“Five hundred is barely enough,” she chides. “Even Oracle’s crawling out of her cave for this party, and she’s a menace when it comes to cupcakes.”

“Says the cupcake menace herself,” Ryuji grunts.

“As if you won’t be stuffing your face with takoyaki.”

“It’s carbs and protein! That’s healthy!”

“Healthy isn’t the word I’d use.”

“It’s a party, guys. Stuffing your face is to be expected.” Akira lifts his gaze to stare directly into his webcam. “Speaking of stuffing your face—”

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.”

“—Crow, you’re invited—”

“Did he just spank the flour bag?”

“—And I prepared a very special dessert for you.”

“Ack—! Dude! You got— cgkk— flour in my mouth—!”

Ann and Ryuji’s suffering is interrupted by a knock at the door.

“That better be the police,” Ann mutters. “To arrest you.”

Neither of them take the initiative to get the door, so Akira wipes his flour-and-batter-covered hands onto his apron and answers it himself.

“Hi senpai! Panther-senpai, Skull-senpai, Morgana-senpai!”

Sumire greets him with a bow on the other side of the threshold.

“Hey, Sumi. Didn’t I give you a spare key?”

“You did! I just didn’t want to barge in unannounced.”

“Don’t worry about it. Come on in.”

“Sumi! Did you come over to steal some cupcakes?”

“N-no, of course not! I just wanted to check in on my friends!”

“Thanks, Sumi,” Akira grins as he gets back to work. “That means a lot.”

Sumire’s lip quivers on the receiving end of Akira’s smile. “O-Oracle-senpai sent me here to steal cupcakes! I’m sorry, Oracle! I can’t lie to my senpais!”

Sumire’s phone pings with a series of Piscord messages.

“Wow,” Ryuji deadpans. “You mean you’re not here to watch Joker make bedroom eyes at the camera and farm thirst trap ClikClok edits?”

“I’m not. I’m sorry I fooled you.”

“You’re forgiven.”

Akira’s mercy immediately has Sumire acting like her upbeat self again. “If you guys aren’t trying to steal cupcakes, what are you doing here?” she asks the blondes.

“Watching Akira like he’s a zoo animal,” Ann says.

“That’s my job. Professional zoo animal.”

“You’re great at it, Joker!” Sumire beams. “So, Ann-senpai, is Goro coming to your party tonight?”

Akira’s too busy pouring the cupcake batter into muffin tins to notice Ann’s wary glance.

“Of course he isn’t. I invited him, obviously, but with him around? I was hoping he’d say no. I used to think they could be friends if Goro gave him a chance, but now..? There’s no way I can introduce them.”

“Why not?”

“Sumi…” Ann lets out a disappointed sigh. “How are you a streamer yet so terminally offline? Let’s put it this way: Goro hates Joker.”

Akira is too busy putting the cupcakes in the oven to acknowledge this slander.

“Hm? He hates every streamer. Except us, because we have real jobs.”

“Yeah, but now he has a reason to hate Joker. Honestly, I don’t blame him.”

“Did something happen?”

Ann sucks in air through her teeth. “How do I put this… So you know how Joker is, um… chronically horny?”

“Yeah, he loves twinks!”

“Exactly. So about two months ago, he—” Ann cuts herself off when her phone pings with a text notification. “Oh no. It’s Goro.”

“What did he say?”

“He… He changed his mind… He’s coming to the party…”

“Yay! That’s great news!”

“That’s terrible news..!”

“Is he watching right now? Aw, he never watches our streams! Hi, Goro~!”

“We have to stop this..! Joker’s going to be murdered tonight!”

“I don’t think five hundred cupcakes are gonna fit in here,” Akira announces from where he peers into the oven. “I’m gonna have to do multiple batches.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Ryuji cuts in. “Why’s Joker gettin’ murdered tonight?!”

Ann leans over to whisper something in his ear.

“Crow’s comin’ to the party?!”

“WHAT?!”

“Ryuji!”

In his shock, Akira jolts his head up without taking in his surroundings, his head scraping against the top of the oven just enough for his bangs to catch on fire.

“f*ck—!”

“DUDE—!”

“JOKER—!”

“SENPAI—!”

Sumire rushes around the counter and dumps the bag of flour over Akira’s head, dampening the fire with the powder.

The kitchen is silent as they catch their breaths.

“End stream,” Akira calmly instructs his friends. Far too calm for someone whose entire face is covered in flour. Ann’s fingers tremble as she hits the end stream button on his laptop.

“Akira—”

“You know Crow?”

His eyes rake from Ann to Sumire.

“Who is Crow?” Sumire whispers to Ann.

“We do,” Ann answers in her stead.

“You’re friends with Crow?”

“We are.”

“And how exactly did this friendship come to be?”

“We took an English class together a few semesters ago, and he and I were the best in our class. He was really hostile to me at first. I think he thought of me as an academic rival until he realized my grades are average in every other class.”

“Rival?!”

“I cannot imagine you bein’ the best in any class,” Ryuji snorts. Both Ann and Akira turn to him with deathly stares—though Akira’s is a bit more flour-y. Ryuji immediately shuts up.

“Oh, are we talking about Goro?” Sumire chimes. “I met him at the gym. We take yoga classes together!”

“He does yoga?!”

“Akira, just breathe for a second—”

“And you.” Akira points an accusatory finger at Ryuji. “You said Crow’s coming to the party?”

“T-that’s just what Ann said!”

Akira flicks his gaze to Ann.

Ann sighs. “He said no at first, but apparently he changed his mind. He probably heard me talking about him and got all—”

“He was watching?!”

“Maybe—?”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn my sexy apron!”

“You have a sexy apron?”

“I have to get ready..! What am I doing standing around making cupcakes?! Where’s my eyeliner?! sh*t, I have to wash this flour off. And my hair is burned! Can gel fix that? Should I wear a crop top or is that too slu*tty? Will he think my super ripped washboard abs are disgusting? Should I wear my shoes with heels or is being 6 feet tall already too much? Is he into ear piercings? Glasses or no glasses? Wait, my good jeans have Morgana’s fur all over them! Will that make me seem like a slob or like a loving cat dad with a heart of gold?”

“I think he’ll be too focused on slitting your throat to notice.”

“Make my neck look stabbable… Okay, I can work with that.”

“Chat, this is going to be a short stream. I want to be able to party without babysitting you guys the entire time! I’ll give you a quick tour of the place now that it’s fully decorated! Okay, there’s Joker laying next to the door like a dog with separation anxiety.”

“Do they think I look hot?!” Akira shouts from the floor.

“There’s lots of objectifying emotes.”

“So the crop top was a good call?”

“They’re also saying you look emo.”

“More emo than usual?!”

“Um… yeah!”

“Nice!”

Ann continues guiding her chat through her new apartment, their friends waving at the camera as she goes. Akira, however, remains seated on the floor. The door hits his knee every time someone arrives at the party, but any moment now it’ll be Crow who assaults him with the door, and Akira will be ready. Cute boys love it when guys camp out on the floor just to say hello to them.

“These cupcakes are a little overdone,” Makoto frowns next to the cupcake display in the kitchen. “Did Joker make these? He doesn’t tend to make such mistakes.”

“I had to bake ‘em for him,” Ryuji mutters. “His hair caught on fire, and then he jumped ship to make himself look emo or whatever.”

“Thgh shill tashte guhd t’ mh!” Oracle says as she shovels down cupcake after cupcake. “Imnari, pash mh anufer!”

“We’re starting a garden on the balcony!” Ann tells her chat. “I wasn’t allowed to have potted plants at Joker’s apartment because Morgana would eat the leaves.”

“Your garden looks amazing, Ann-chan!” Haru beams. “Wait, what’s that dark figure..? Ah, no, Mona-chan! How’d you get out there?!”

“He’s going for the tomatoes!”

“For real?! Can cats eat tomatoes?!”

“He ate the whole thing in one ferocious chomp! A domesticated cat he may be, but his ravenous nature is unmistakable!”

“Eek, he’s zeroing on the strawberries!”

“Shiho planted those!”

“Joker, come get your cat!”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine!”

“But the strawberries won’t!”

Akira sighs as he hurries toward the balcony to save the day.

“Come on, Mona, let’s get you some—”

The apartment door opens and clicks shut, Morgana hisses at the unwelcoming presence of someone, and Akira turns around at the speed of light.

“He’s here.” Akira drops Morgana, who immediately runs off to beg Oracle for a spare cupcake. “Where is he?”

“What? I didn’t see anyone come in.”

His eyes zero in on the black loafers by the door. “He’s here. He’s wearing a green sweater vest, a brownish red blazer, grey slacks, and—” Akira squeezes his eyes really tight, “Brown gloves.”

“Dude, you didn’t even see him.”

“In the middle of summer?” Haru asks.

“Oh my god,” Ann grumbles. “That’s the outfit he wears when he’s trying to look sexy.”

“Where is he?! Why’d you invite so many people, Ann?”

“I didn’t! It’s only friends, coworkers, ex-classmates, Shiho’s coworkers, our neighbors, and my mods.”

Akira sends her a wordless stare.

“I-it’s a special occasion!”

“Did chat see him come in? Check the VOD.”

“I was filming Morgana, not the door.”

“f*ck, I’ll just have to find him. This place is huge.”

“You’re one to talk. You live alone in a three bedroom apartment.”

“I live with my cat.”

Akira doesn’t offer any parting words before wandering off to begin the search for his Crow.

“At least his eyeliner will look nice at his funeral,” Ann tells her chat.

.

.

“Have you seen a guy with golden chestnut hair and dark molten lava, raspberry frosting on a chocolate cake, cinnamon candied apple eyes?”

“No, sorry.”

.

.

“Has anyone with golden chestnut hair and dark molten lava, raspberry frosting on a chocolate cake, cinnamon candied apple eyes walked through here?”

“You mean Makoto? I think I saw her in the kitchen.”

“Are you blind? Makoto has brown hair and red eyes!”

.

.

“Have you seen this person?” Akira holds up a picture of his lockscreen. “Ignore the bunny ears. He doesn’t actually have those.”

“I might have? There’s so many people here. Shiho mentioned her friend is a model, but I didn’t expect the apartment to be this big.”

“I know, right? And they don’t even have a cat.”

.

.

“Has an angel walked by you guys by chance?”

“You mean, Mona-chan?” Haru asks. “I last saw him attempting to swindle cupcakes from Oracle-chan!”

“If you’re talking about Crow, we haven’t seen him,” Makoto clarifies.

“Damn. While I’m here, do you guys think the crop top was a good choice?”

“You make it work.”

“You look great, Akira-kun!”

“Cool. Should I pour oil on my abs?”

“That might be a bit much!”

.

.

“Have you seen Crow?”

Oracle, who is currently holding Morgana in a bridal carry, stares blankly at him. “Who?”

“Y’know, Crow. He banned you from his chat for winning the Featherman card game. I bought you that Feather Pink figure so I could play chess against him. You called me a simp for donating a small price of 3 million yen.”

“It’s called Duels of a Feather: TCG.”

“You’re useless.”

.

.

“Hey, you’re one of Ann’s mods, right? Fu…Fuu..? Haha. Anyway, have you seen this person?”

“Um… Ann said I should walk away if you try to talk to me.”

“Oh.”

The girl walks away without another word.

“Dammit.” Akira feels like he’s interrogated the entire party at this point. Crow didn’t leave already, did he?

Rejected, dejected, and miserable, Akira trudges into the kitchen to grab a drink from the fridge. As he pops the tab on the can, however, he notices a third hallway he’s yet to explore. Seriously, he knows Ann made bank at that photoshoot for Magazine-He’s-Not-Allowed-To-Name-Yet, and Shiho rakes in a decent salary herself, but this is just absurd. What is this, Haru’s mansion?!

The hallway is nearly vacant when Akira peeks around the corner—probably because this apartment has too many hallways already and most people haven’t discovered this hallway yet.

Or because one of the two occupants of the hallway scared everyone off so he could converse with Sumire Yoshizawa in peace.

Akira stands there, speechless and motionless as he stares at Crow's blazer, long legs, and golden chestnut chair (it looks so much softer in person!). He stares for so long that Sumire eventually notices the weirdo watching them from a distance, turning to wave once she recognizes said weirdo.

“Senpai, there you are! Oh, I don’t think you two have met! This is—”

“I know who he is,” Crow cuts her off, and hearing his voice without the interference of his sh*tty microphone nearly makes Akira start floating towards him like a cartoon character smelling a pie. “Sumire, could you give us a moment?”

“O-of course!”

Sumire bows before scurrying out of the hallway.

And Crow’s dark molten lava, raspberry frosting on a chocolate cake, cinnamon candied apple eyes land right on Akira, trailing down to his bare abdomen before snapping right back up to his face.

“You look like a raccoon.”

“I was looking for you.”

“No sh*t.”

“And… I found you.”

“Astute observation.”

“You said you know who I am.”

Crow sneers at that. “Joker, right? The stalker who has tormented me for months on end? The arrogant, egotistical moron who can’t take a hint, can’t play chess to save his life, and treats me like a prize to be won. Am I mistaken?”

“You forgot repugnant.”

“You’re lucky I haven’t gotten a restraining order.”

“I’m not one to obey the law anyway. Did you hear about the time I stole a toaster?”

“I’ve heard far, far too much about you.”

“Yeah? Wanna know more?”

With every taunt they take a step forward, until they’ve met in the center of the hallway, standing nearly nose to nose.

“I’d like to know how to finally shut you up.”

“I’ve given you plenty of suggestions, Crow.”

It’s not entirely clear who started it—or if it was a joint decision to close the distance and seal their lips together, but it really doesn’t matter who's to blame once they’re attempting to swallow each other whole. Crow’s arms fly around Joker’s neck like he’s trying to strangle him, and Akira grips the back of Crow’s blazer for dear life. He can tell it’s expensive from the texture alone. He wonders if Crow splurged on it before his streaming career, or if it was a recent purchase with Joker’s donation money. He really hopes it’s the latter. The thought of Crow using Akira’s money to buy something nice is awakening a kink he didn’t know he had.

Even more soft and velvety is Crow’s tongue melting against his own. Akira licks hard into his mouth to devour more of him, their moans blending together in one harmonious sound. He tastes sweet—he hopes Crow didn’t have one of those cupcakes Akira abandoned in favor of eyeliner and hair gel. He’ll just have to make Crow a proper batch some other time.

Crow growls into the kiss, attempting to lick just as hard in retaliation, like this is some kind of competition. Akira, being the worthy rival he is, takes Crow’s bottom lip between his teeth and smirks when Crow moans from the sudden pain.

“So what’s your name?”

Akira pulls back just enough to ask the question, his breath hot on Crow’s glossy lips.

Crow does not tell Akira his name. In fact, he doesn’t acknowledge that a question was asked at all. Instead he dives right back in and resumes their makeout session like it hadn’t been paused in the first place.

Akira hums a sound of pleasure and confusion.

“Did you hear me—?”

Crow uses his grip on Akira’s neck to pull him back in, the question reduced to a muffled jumble of words swallowed by Crow’s tongue.

“I just— mmph— want to know— mmph— what to call you— mmph!”

Crow slams Akira against the nearest wall, simultaneously knocking the wind out of him and inhaling it for himself.

“Why does it f*cking matter?” He immediately feeds Akira a hungry open-mouthed kiss, like he doesn’t want to give him a chance to answer.

It’s like being kissed by a siren, the flick of his tongue attempting to hypnotize Akira into obedience. It doesn’t work though. Akira is brave enough to pull away from that hot sexy mouth.

“Do you really want me to call you Crow in bed?”

“That’s presumptuous.”

“You have me pressed against a wall right now.”

“I’m only kissing you to make you shut up.”

“Not doing a great job at it, are you?”

Crow glares, and Akira swears his heart takes residence in his dick with the way it throbs.

“I’m Akira, by the way.”

Crow is silent for a long moment, his jaw shifting as though literally chewing on the name.

“Goro.”

Akira’s breath stutters when he exhales.

“Hot.”

They gravitate close again, and Akira grins when their mouths find each other, licking a hot stripe against Goro’s teeth.

“So, is your username seriously your Featherman OC or—”

“Shut up.”

Akira laughs when he’s yanked in, but he’s quick to get down to business in terms of kissing Goro stupid. It’s messy now, and downright disrespectful to Ann and Shiho’s new apartment, the way their hands desperately roam, licking at each other like they’re purposefully trying to avoid their lips. Any outsider would think they’re about to f*ck right then and there.

“—I’ll show you guys the third hallway. It’s kind of secluded, so not many people have found— AH! Can’t show you that—!”

Akira’s too busy dragging a hand down Goro’s blazer to notice the retreating footsteps, sighing in absolute bliss when he grabs a fistful of Goro’s ass and squeezes. It’s even better than he imagined, like kneading dough or squeezing a stress ball. A second hand joins the other, because an ass like that can’t be contained with just one hand, and Akira spreads those cheeks through Goro’s slacks. Yup, he definitely does yoga.

A hard slap to that perfect curve is what has their kiss breaking, a trail of spit still connecting their lips.

“Were you serious about what you said in my chat?”

Akira’s horny brain takes a moment to comprehend the words. “I was serious about everything.” He swallows heavily watching Goro lick his lips. “But can you be a little more specific?”

“Everything? I have a hard time believing that.”

“I can prove it.”

“Hm. That’s what I hoped you would say.”

His fists tangle in Akira’s shirt, and he’s being dragged into the nearest bedroom in a flash.

Yeah, the crop top was definitely a good idea.

“Is this Ann’s room?” Akira asks after being shoved onto the edge of the bed.

“It’s a guest room.”

“A guest room? They don’t even have a cat—”

Goro is straddling Akira’s lap and slamming their lips together before Akira can properly express his dismay. Whatever he was babbling about is instantly forgotten, however, when Goro’s hands tangle in his hair and pull.

“I can tell—” Goro speaks between fleeting kisses, “—you used that— 2-in-1 shampoo—”

“It’s actually— mmph— 3-in-1—”

“All that money yet you refuse to buy conditioner—”

“It has conditioner built in— mm— It’s part of the three—”

Goro tightens his grip in Akira’s hair and yanks him into a bruising kiss. Probably because he’s so turned on by Akira’s efficiency.

They continue going at it for a while, with their mouths intertwined and Akira groping every inch of Goro’s ass he can get his hands on. Eventually his fingers snake upward to push Goro’s blazer off his shoulders—

—Only for their tongues to twist together one final time before Goro rises off the bed.

“Lay back,” he instructs. “And get comfortable.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Akira plops down on the pillows with his hands behind his head, grinning as Goro begins to strip his layers. His face is sticky and pink, looking like a p*rnographic angel with those kiss-bitten lips. The patron saint of making Akira’s dick hard.

“Twirl for me,” Akira says when the sweater vest comes off.

“I told you to watch, not to speak.”

“I am watching.” Akira palms the bulge in his jeans. “I’d like to watch you twirl around for me.”

“Be grateful I’m even in the same room as you right now.”

Goro’s gaze drifts to Akira’s hand. He forgoes the last few buttons of his shirt to undo his waistband instead.

“I’m very grateful.”

The slacks come off, followed by the shirt, leaving Goro in brown leather gloves, sheer stockings, and a cream-colored lingerie set, fit with a lace bra and panties and a goddamn garter belt. Something a blushing bride would wear on her wedding night.

“Holy sh*t.” Akira runs his eyes over Goro’s pale chest, the hints of pink nipples hiding behind the lace. “Did you wear that for me? Or is that your go-to underwear of choice?”

“It’s a special occasion. My best friend is finally moving out of some creep’s apartment.”

Akira’s gaze runs down over Goro’s waist, cinched by the delicate lace of the garter belt.

“Congratulations, Shiho.”

Goro snorts. “That creep paid for all this, so I suppose he’s not that terrible.”

“Sounds like a stand up guy.” Akira ogles the cute bump in Goro’s panties, already hard and wanting. “What else did you use his money to buy?”

He lingers on thick, luscious thighs that could kill a man with a single squeeze. Curvy, breedable hips…

“Only a handful of things. You are aware I have bills, yes?”

His eyes snap right back up to Goro’s face. “I can give you more.”

It’s with a scoff that Goro crawls onto the bed, settling on his knees beside Akira’s lax body. He leans down to get close to Akira’s face, so Akira naturally moves up to meet him halfway.

A hand on his chest slams him right back down.

“Do you think I’m stupid or something?”

Akira’s brain takes a second to catch up, the wind being knocked out of him despite landing on a pile of pillows.

“Of course not—”

“Or do you think you’re that f*cking suave? Has your ego rotted your brain that much?”

“What exactly am I being accused of here?”

“All those messages you sent begging to see my ass. Turn around, show off your outfit, touch your toes. Do you have f*cking brain damage?”

“I was honestly hoping I’d get lucky.”

“Lucky? You think I’d be merciful to you?”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“No, but I can judge you for it.”

“Oh, please let thou’s judgment rain heavily on me.”

Goro looks anything but amused by Akira’s smirk. In fact, he looks downright murderous.

“I don’t think you understand, so let me explain it again. I’m only doing this to make you shut the f*ck up.”

You’ll have to try harder than that, Akira would’ve said had Goro not been one step ahead of him. He throws a stocking-clad leg over Akira’s chest to straddle him in a reverse cowgirl position, and the world goes dark. Akira can’t even appreciate the sight before being smothered by two luxurious pillows.

Goro is sitting on his face.

Goro is grinding his hips down and rubbing his ass all over Akira’s nose and mouth and chin, and Akira can’t do anything but lay there. He can’t surge upward to steal a lick, because Goro is using the full strength of his thighs to prevent Akira’s head from moving. The fattest ass in the universe is on his face, and all Akira can do is let Goro wiggle and bounce to his heart’s content. Until the rest of his senses fade away. Until all that exists is the addicting scent of Goro’s ass surrounding his nose.

He gasps for breath when Goro finally lifts his hips, the dim bedroom lights too bright for his unadjusted eyes.

“What’s wrong, Joker? I thought you wanted to see my ass.”

He sits right back down before Akira can answer, rolling his ass with as much fervor as before, and Goro cackles, the same cackle Akira’s heard on Crow’s streams when he’s about to win a game of chess. He’s clearly getting off to this, and Akira’s not even tonguef*cking him yet. The power alone is enough for Goro’s panties to dampen with his own precum.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting tired,” Goro taunts when he lifts onto his knees, giving Akira another chance to catch his breath. “We’re barely getting started.”

He reaches back to move his panties to the side before lowering back down. But Akira’s ready this time. He thought long and hard about his gameplan while being crushed by Goro’s ass. His arms wrap around Goro’s waist, and he charges upward before Goro can pin him to the mattress, burying his face between those gorgeous cheeks and beginning to lap away.

“Hahh..!”

Akira licks and licks and licks, like a dog at his water bowl on a hot day. He licks with everything he has in him, attempting to melt Goro’s brain into mush before he can think of depriving Akira’s airways again. He licks with the excitement of finally, finally having his tongue on Crow’s pretty ass. His rim grows softer and puffier with every lurch of Akira’s head, the glossy glaze of spit making it look too cute for Akira not to devour.

“I– I d-didn’t say you could— mmnh!”

Long gone is the bossy Goro from mere moments ago. He’s whiny and trembling and barely able to get a word out—all from a little licking! It answers the question Akira’s been dying to know for months: Crow is definitely a virgin.

He’s honored to be the first person to ever eat this ass.

“J-Joker..!”

Hearing his name in that wrecked voice awakens something feral in Akira. He tightens his grip on Goro’s waist and shoves his face between those cheeks, slurping and sucking and showering his hole with hot kisses, drowning in Goro’s perfect scent. His eyeliner must be completely ruined at this point, but Akira couldn’t care less. He wants everyone at this party to take one look at him and know he just ravished a fat ass.

“You— need to learn— how to listen.”

It’s with a bit of wrestling that Goro manages to tear Akira’s arms off his waist and grind his hips down. It’s not enough to stop Akira’s tongue though, not even when Goro moves his legs to pin Akira’s wrists beneath his ankles, preventing him from using his hands. Not even a meteor striking the earth could stop Akira from eating the meal he’s been served. This ass would resurrect him. He’s simply built differently.

“Ngh— Fine, if you want to act like this—” With his feet still binding Akira’s wrists, Goro bends his upper body downward. “—Two can play at that game.”

A hot tongue runs down Akira’s abdomen, stopping only when he reaches Akira’s waistband, Goro’s fingers quick to replace his mouth. He pops the button and undoes the zipper, Akira bucking his hips upward before his co*ck has even been freed.

“Needy,” Goro scoffs. “I presume you never get laid?”

“Mmmn,” Akira retaliates against his ass.

Goro’s brattiness is instantly forgiven when he hooks his thumbs beneath Akira’s waistband. It feels like an eternity before his jeans are pushed down his thighs and his hard co*ck finally bounces into the air.

“Jesus f*cking christ. It’s actually this f*cking big?”

“Mm,” Akira hums in confirmation. The way Goro rolls his ass down in frustration causes him to smirk. “You like?”

“f*cking ridiculous. I assumed those screenshots were edited.”

Akira’s brows pinch in the midst of a slow lick. “You saw those screenshots of my dick?”

“It was impossible not to. They were all over my Yapper feed.”

“But you follow zero people.”

Goro silences him by slamming his ass down on Akira’s face. That’s fine. Akira was starting to get hole withdrawals anyway.

And while Akira gets back to work, Goro tests the waters by slowly jerking off Akira’s co*ck, spreading his pre from base to tip.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” he seethes as he strokes. “I can barely wrap my hand around it.”

Akira keens a sad whimper between kisses. It’s not his fault he has a big dick. Goro doesn’t have to embarrass him for it.

“Just blatantly disrespectful,” is the last complaint Goro mutters. He’s soon swiping his tongue across the slit, getting familiar with the taste before sucking on the tip.

Feasting on a delicacy while the boy of his dreams kisses his co*ck… Akira must’ve been a martyr in a past life to deserve this treatment.

As new to this co*cksucking thing as Goro is, he certainly isn’t planning on giving up. His gloved fist strokes along the base as he starts to suck, bobbing his head with determination to make Akira fall apart. And sure, Akira lets out a series of moans, but he sure as hell isn’t giving up either. He may not be a good enough chess player to become Goro’s rival, but he puts up a good fight in terms of making Goro come.

Goro sinks his mouth lower, tightening his grip on Akira’s base as though trying to tame the beast. Akira’s close, but how can you blame him? It’s a miracle he didn’t shoot his load the moment he tasted Goro’s ass. Nevertheless, he fights it down, determined to make Goro reach his peak first. He needs to lock in and clutch this win.

Unfortunately Akira’s hands are still pinned beneath Goro’s feet, so he’s at a bit of a disadvantage here. Still, he does what he can with his tongue and prods past Goro’s rim, sighing blissfully once he starts to f*ck him there. The tremor and confused moan from the body above him is the cherry on top of this wet, hot, pink sundae.

“Hmmgh—?”

It’s like entering the gates of heaven, having the tight walls of Goro’s ass surrounding him. Akira nuzzles his face between Goro’s cheeks in attempt to dive deeper, as though trying to reach some hidden sanctuary inside him, prepping that virgin hole for his co*ck.

“I— I can’t believe I let you kiss me—”

Goro’s sucking is messy from here on out, with loose lips that won’t stop drooling and moaning around Akira’s co*ck. His thighs tremble around Akira’s face, and he starts to grind his ass on Akira’s tongue. Akira lets him. He stays perfectly still while Goro uses his co*ck and tongue, and when a spurt of wet heat shoots across his abdomen, Akira happily lets Goro ride out his org*sm.

Once again, he emphasizes, the crop top was a good idea.

Goro’s motions come to a halt as he parks his ass on Akira’s face, but his whimpers endlessly play on repeat. He lazily kisses Akira’s co*ck—far from the most impressive showing, but Goro’s clearly too f*cked out to care. Whatever performance he put on wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because Akira still has a mind-blowing, toe-curling, co*ck-twitching org*sm, and Goro is right there mouthing up the mess to prevent Akira from shooting ropes onto the guest bed. They’ve still soaked the duvet in sweat, but one liquid is still less of a hassle than two.

Their panting fills the silence as they come down from their high, with Akira’s tongue occasionally rolling out of his mouth to lick at Goro’s ass. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want seconds. He’s never considered giving up on his streaming career, but he thinks being Goro’s professional seat might be his true calling.

After a few minutes of recovery, Goro clears his throat as he sits up. “Well, Joker. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

His ankles slide away from Akira’s wrists, rising onto his knees in attempt to pull away—

But Akira isn’t ready to abandon his post just yet. He uses his newly freed arms to hug Goro’s waist and pull his ass down before getting right back to it, eating him out with so much vigor you’d think he was dying of starvation.

“Nyagh—! Joker—!”

Goro’s clearly overstimulated from the first life-changing org*sm Akira gave him, based on the way his sobs leave him in a string of breathlessness. His efforts to pull away are fruitless. His thighs may be strong, but they don’t stand a chance against Akira’s need to finish his meal and lick his plate clean.

So Goro takes on a different strategy by yanking Akira’s arms off his waist. Once freed, Goro grabs a fistful of hair and pries Akira’s mouth off his ass.

The face Akira’s met with is one of absolute fury.

“Are you f*cking serious?”

Akira pouts in response, angling his head forward in attempt to steal another lick.

“Down, boy.” The fist in his hair prevents him from doing so. “I wasn’t intending to spend this much time with you, but you clearly need more training.”

Goro softens his grip, only pulling his hand away once he’s certain Akira won’t make a dive for his ass again. He crawls off Akira’s body before standing from the bed, marching toward his clothes to fetch something from his blazer pocket.

Akira kicks off his jeans and idly strokes his co*ck in the meantime.

“I must’ve had a lapse in judgment not bringing something to tie you up.”

“So you were planning to have sex with me?”

Goro doesn’t grace Akira with a reply. Instead he kneels next to Akira on the bed and latches their lips together. Probably another one of those ‘kissing you to make you shut the f*ck up’ kisses, but Akira doesn’t care. He’ll take what he can get.

Goro’s mouth parts to allow Akira’s tongue to slip inside, and Akira jumps at the opportunity. Goro doesn’t tell Akira to stop jerking off, nor does he slap his hand away, so Akira keeps at it, stroking himself back to full hardness to the sound of Goro’s sweet moans.

…Moans that are a little too lewd for kissing.

Akira breaks the kiss for the sake of investigating, and he releases a mix between a gasp and a moan at what he finds.

A bottle of lube discarded on the bed, Goro’s arm reaching back to finger himself.

Holy sh*t. Akira bucks up hard into his fist. He can’t believe him and his crush are masturbating together.

“You’ve done that before, haven’t you, Goro?”

Goro must not be in a talkative mood, because their lips are quickly finding each other again, Akira kissing Goro all the more frantically now that he knows what he’s doing. The sounds pouring into his mouth are so desperate it’s heartbreaking. His sweet, sweet Crow. There’s no way his fingers are enough.

Swatting Akira’s hand away, Goro wraps his lube-coated hand around Akira’s co*ck instead, getting him nice and wet before getting in position to straddle him.

“f*ck. Will that thing even fit inside me?”

“Sorry.” There’s not really anything Akira can offer other than a sheepish apology. It’s not like he can shrink his co*ck down from inhumanly massive to reasonably massive.

“No wonder your ego is so f*cking big.”

Goro lines up the tip with his entrance, and Akira sucks in a sharp breath. He can feel Goro’s ass sucking him in already.

It’s with a determined breath that Goro slowly starts to sink down.

“Nhhh, f*ck! It’s so f*cking deep—!”

Akira looks down just to make sure. Yup, only the tip is inside.

“Take your time, sweetheart. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Shut the f*ck up!”

Goro’s eyes squeeze shut as he continues to lower down. It seems like nothing more will fit inside when he reaches the halfway point, but Goro is full of surprises. And now, he’s equally as full of co*ck as he drops down and sheaths the entire thing inside, the two moaning in unison.

“Big—”

“Tight—”

Shaky moans mingle between them as they adjust. Goro cautiously attempts to lift his hips, biting his bottom lip to keep his sounds contained. It’s a futile endeavor. When he sinks back down, he lets out a cry as though he’s been stabbed.

“Stupid, stupid co*ck,” Goro seethes as he attempts another rise and fall. “Who gave it the right— gah—!”

“We can do something else if this is too much—”

“Shut up, Joker. This is between me and your dick.” Goro’s voice wavers as he rolls his hips up again. “I won’t— let it defeat me—!”

His ass claps heavily against Akira’s thighs when he slams back down, letting out a strained “f*ck” loud enough to alert the entire party.

This whole time, Akira’s strived to be a worthy rival. Little did he know it was his co*ck Goro would be competing against.

“You can’t hurt me! I’m better than you—!”

Goro eventually finds a steady pace, gloved hands splayed on Akira’s chest, but that doesn’t mean he plans to stop arguing with Akira’s dick. Still, Akira leans back and enjoys the show, relishing in the slap of skin on skin every time Goro lands in his lap.

“HAHA— Are you even trying?!”

He can’t help but be proud watching Goro take it so well. That’s exactly why Crow is his favorite streamer. His quick, tactical thinking always lets him overcome a challenge, no matter how big. Akira’s hands float to his hips to help Goro bounce on his co*ck, his fingers curling into his flesh. He doesn’t mind playing support every once in a while.

“Don’t f*cking test me—!”

Goro’s really being aggressive about it now, using the full strength of his thighs to spring up and down. The sound is heavenly, a lewd melody nearly drowning out their moans, and Akira’s thighs are damp from the lube seeping from Goro’s hole. Goro’s even wetter on the inside, with walls made of silk that flutter without rhyme or reason. Like a tight puss* for Akira to breed.

“Pathetic.”

Goro’s giving it his all. It’s obvious when he clutches up tight just to hear Akira groan beneath him. He thinks he’s won. It’s adorable—it truly is. But Akira doesn’t know how to break the news that he’s going easy on him.

“Is that all you’ve got, trash?”

Akira takes it up a notch, utilizing a simple tactic Goro would’ve seen coming if he was actually the co*ckriding expert he pretends to be.

He pushes Goro’s bra down his chest and latches onto his nipple.

“AIEEE—!”

Goro’s pace doesn’t falter, but his back arches into Akira’s mouth, his walls squeezing Akira’s co*ck in a form of self defense. He attempts to regain his composure, but he can’t seem to concentrate with Akira sucking his tit*.

“Sensitive?” Akira smirks.

“You— You won’t get away with this—!”

Adorable. Akira delivers a hard smack to Goro’s ass to feel those walls tighten again.

“Mnnh—?! Agh, you’ll pay for that—!”

Three slaps rein down on Goro’s ass in succession. All the while Akira clamps onto the opposite nipple and bucks his hips up. A triple combo.

“Hahh! You… mmn— ah—!”

He can barely speak, let alone hiss any menacing taunts. His strategy of focusing on Akira’s co*ck is starting to fall apart. He didn’t seem to account for Akira fighting back.

As much as Akira would like to keep humoring him, he might actually die if he doesn’t get to breed Goro.

So he crushes Goro against his chest, digs his feet into the mattress, and begins to pound away. Everything becomes so much more intense: the sounds of their f*cking grows louder, Goro’s sobs turn into screams, and Akira can hit so much deeper in this position. Goro’s goal of conquering big streamer dick will have to wait for another day. It’s not Akira’s fault he’s a godlike gamer.

It’s only a matter of seconds before Goro’s inner muscles spasm, and he’s coming all over Akira’s stomach for the second time that night.

“D-don’t stop..!”

Akira clenches his teeth as he finds a desperate rut, packing his dick deep and rough inside his sweet Crow’s body.

“Not stopping. Gonna fill you up, princess.”

Goro takes it all, keeping his back arched even as he drools on Akira’s shirt.

“f*ck, you’re beautiful.”

Goro mewls at the praise, and Akira burns the sound to memory. There’s literally nothing hotter than hearing his crush moan like a slu*t after being called beautiful.

What can Akira say? He’s a gentleman.

“Mine.”

And when Akira tips over the edge, Goro is more than thrilled to claim his prize, spilling with moans while Akira loads him up. He squeezes around Akira’s co*ck to ensure he’s milked him of every drop, because Goro will be damned if he leaves a job unfinished.

They collapse against the guest bed as one entity, both completely drained of cum and energy. Akira could really go for some Mad Bull right now.

“GG,” he says as he pets Goro’s hair. “Well played.”

Goro offers a half-hearted groan in response. But Akira isn’t deterred by his lack of response. He stretches his limbs and thrusts into Goro’s abused hole one last time.

“Chat is gonna be so happy I got laid.”

Goro offers a full-hearted groan at this. “Don’t talk about your chat while your dick is in me.”

“Sorry. They wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

He guides Goro into a seated position before helping him pull off his co*ck, the two moaning in unison from the fleeting friction.

“Get me some paper towels,” Goro huffs. Glancing at the stickiness seeping down his thighs, Akira figures that’s a good idea.

Throwing on his jeans, he pauses before opening the door when he remembers his abdomen is currently covered in cum from two different rounds of sex.

“Uh, is there a bathroom in this hallway?”

“Nope.”

“...And there’s not a secret second kitchen somewhere?”

“Why the f*ck would there be a second kitchen?”

“Y’know, so I don’t have to walk through the party like this.”

“You can run.”

Akira sighs. Maybe the crop top wasn’t a good idea after all.

“Alright, enough procrastinating. It’s time to get to work. No, no team today. I’m not letting someone else boost me to resplendent.”

Akira moves his chat to his second monitor before booting up Valuerant. The new season starts today, meaning it’s time to resume his journey grinding to the highest rank. He’s looking forward to more ten hour Valuerant streams, truly. Encountering randoms in solo queue? Not so much.

He queues for a match and resumes reading his chat while he waits.

“‘When’s the Amongst Us stream?’ Thursday… I think. Might be Friday. Oracle, get my schedule. ‘What’s up with your hair today? Are you using 5-in-1 shampoo now?’ Give me a break, guys. It’s noon! I just got out of bed! ‘Playing Valuerant midday is like day drinking.’ It’s still healthier than playing at 3AM, right? I think so. ‘Did you see Skull’s video about the Featherman Dirtnite collab?’ Yeah, I’ve definitely heard some opinions about it. ‘Don’t tell me what to do.’ First of all, Oracle, I’m your boss. Second of all, you know my schedule better than I do. ‘You’ll still be playing at 3AM anyway.’ No comment. ‘Crow’s live.’ Don’t try to bait me. I know for a fact he’s not live.”

Because Akira spent a good part of his morning railing his boyfriend before stream, but obviously chat wouldn’t know about that. They don’t know Crow is his boyfriend of two months—or that they know each other at all. Goro still refuses to acknowledge Akira’s chat messages.

“‘Are you planning to read the new Slimegirl Ranch volume?’ Yeah, Skull and I were just talking about— Oh, sh*t, we’re in. Why do queue times always take longer when a new season starts? You’d think they’d be faster because there’s so many people. ‘Server lag’? Okay, Mr. Scientist.”

The game finally starts, but Akira’s attention is quickly stolen when his boyfriend trudges into the room. Glancing away from the screen, he finds Goro dressed in Akira’s oversized shirt with nothing underneath, coffee in hand, his hair a ratty mess he would never in a million years show on camera.

“Hey. Need something?”

“I swear to god, your big dick is going to pierce my organs one day.”

It’s with that announcement that Goro marches into Akira’s cam display and wraps his arms around his shoulders. Akira lets his character be killed for the sake of turning his head to give Goro the kiss he’s clearly hoping for.

Akira’s character has respawned by the time they break apart. Goro’s arms remain fixed in place around Akira’s shoulders.

“You got out of bed to play this sh*t?”

“I got out of bed to make you coffee. This sh*t just so happened to be next on my agenda.”

“You could’ve showered at least.”

“Eh, whatever.”

Goro’s eyes wander to the side, growing bored watching Akira run around with a gun. He’s not even impressed when Akira gets two headshots in a row. At least Akira’s chat is there to hype him up.

“Why is your offline chat so active today?”

“Babe, that’s not my offline chat.”

Goro squints to read what they’re actually saying. Then realization sets in, and his eyes widen, standing frozen for a long moment while donations and subscriptions fly through Akira’s chat.

Then Goro makes a break for it.

“Be nice to him, guys,” Akira smirks at the sound of Goro’s retreating footsteps. “I’ve embarrassed him enough already.”