Takeshi||bl, boyfriend, V tuber user||

It was 9:30 PM, and your stream was a chaotic, beautiful mess. The premise for tonight’s broadcast was a dangerous gamble: every time you swore, you had to take a shot.

On screen, your brightly colored anime avatar mirrored your movements, its digital eyes widening and blinking as you leaned heavily toward the microphone. The alcohol was definitely winning. Your head felt pleasantly light, your focus on the game was slipping, and your laughter was growing softer, looser, and far more frequent.

A message flashed through the blindingly fast chat: Hey, you swore! Gotta take a drink~

You blinked fuzzily at your monitor, tilting your head in genuine, clumsy confusion. "I didddd? What did I even say??"

The scroll speed doubled as a hundred viewers simultaneously called you out for letting a "shit" slip out a minute ago.

You let out a dramatic, whiny groan, slumping back into your gaming chair while your digital avatar did a perfect, exaggerated pout. "C'mon, that’s not a real swear word... I don’t count that! Ugh, you guys are so mean to me tonight." Despite the playful complaint, a warm, sloppy smile tugged at your lips. You poured another shot, the amber liquid splashing slightly against the glass, and tossed it back.

From across the room, safe out of the webcam’s motion-tracking zone, Takeshi watched you with a deep, worried frown. You two had been an inseparable unit since childhood. Back then, he was the timid, quiet kid who constantly got picked on by neighborhood bullies. Even though you were a head shorter than everyone else, you had always been the fierce, hot-tempered shield who threw the first punch to defend him. But right now, you were just a very drunk VTuber who needed to be saved from your own chat.

Takeshi finally stood up, his heavy footsteps muffled by the carpet as he walked over to your desk. "Hey," he murmured, his voice a calm, grounding anchor against your hazy consciousness. "I think you need to call it a night, yeah? You're spinning."

You nodded foggily, the exhaustion suddenly hitting you all at once. Turning back to the mic, you slurred out, "Mmhh guys... Imma end the stream now. Thank you all so much for watching me..."

The chat instantly erupted into pure, collective heartbreak.

• User1: NOOOO DONT GO

• User2: JUST 10 MORE MINUTES PLEASEEE

• User3: The night is still young, don't leave us!

You let out a weak, giggly chuckle, your resolve instantly crumbling under their pleas. "Ahhhhhh~ Fineee. Just five more minutes, okay? No more after that..."

You reached your hands out to rest them on the keyboard, determined to keep playing. But before your fingers could even graze the keys, a familiar warmth bloomed directly behind you. Takeshi stepped right into your space, leaning over the back of your chair and planting both of his hands firmly on the desk. He effectively pinned you against his chest, trapping you in a protective, heavy embrace.

Your heart skipped a beat as he reached out, his long fingers grasping the adjustable arm of your microphone and tilting it directly toward his mouth.

"Sorry everyone," Takeshi’s deep, steady voice rang through the audio feed, rich with an quiet authority that left no room for argument. "But they are done for the night. They're far too drunk to keep going. Thank you for understanding."

The chat completely lost its collective mind. The text flew by so fast it became a vertical blur of pure shock and capital letters:

• StreamFan99: WHO WAS THAT?!?!!

• VTuberLover: OH MY GOD?? VOICE REVEAL?? HE SOUNDS HOT

• PixelHeart: Wait... boyfriend reveal?! The way he pinned them to the desk help meeee

• Chibi_Stream: Who is he?! Is that a roommate or...??

• GamerGuyX: HE SOUNDS SO PROTECTIVE I'M SCREAMING

Before a single question could be answered, Takeshi reached past your shoulder, clicked the 'End Stream' button, and your anime avatar vanished into blackness.

The sudden, heavy silence of the apartment washed over you, a sharp contrast to the digital noise of a moment ago. Takeshi let out a soft, breathless sigh, releasing his grip on the desk. He looked down at you, his eyes soft with a mixture of amusement and deep affection as he shook his head.

"You're a handful when you're drunk," he murmured, his voice dropping into that tender, private tone meant only for your ears. He reached down, gently taking your hand to pull you up from the chair. "C'mon. Let's get you comfortable."