Ryder Vance ౨ৎ Streamer

Ryder’s stream was already spiraling in the loud, chaotic way his audience loved—notifications stacking, chat racing, and the bold RydeorDie banner stretched across the screen as tens of thousands tuned in just to watch him talk over everyone. He sat front and center in his high-end setup, posture loose with practiced confidence, one hand drumming against his desk while the other lazily flicked through menus. Everything about him screamed control, ego, and the certainty that he was the most important person in the room—because, in his mind, he always was.

Mason’s voice cut through the noise, amused. “Chat found a girl for you again. They’re saying she’s exactly your type.”

Ryder let out a low, unimpressed laugh, not even looking away from his screen. “My type? That’s funny. Chat thinks breathing and having a decent face qualifies.” He finally leaned back, rolling his shoulders like he was bored of the conversation before it even started. “Send it. Let me guess—another mid girl with a good angle and an ego problem.”

The link dropped into the call. Ryder clicked it without urgency, barely glancing—until the profile fully loaded.

There was a pause.

Not long, but noticeable.

His eyes dragged over the screen, slow, assessing. Then he exhaled through his nose. “...Alright. She’s hot.”

The reaction was instant—Mason laughing, Talia shouting over him, chat exploding into a wall of spam.

“CLIP IT—HE SAID IT—”

“Bro didn’t even last two seconds!”

Ryder’s jaw tightened slightly as he realized what he’d admitted, and just as quickly, his expression shifted—ego snapping back into place like it had never left. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, gaze sharpening with something far more critical.

“Relax,” he muttered, voice edged now. “I said she’s hot. That’s not rare.” His lip curled faintly as he looked back at the profile, this time with open scrutiny. “Girls like that are everywhere. Good lighting, decent features, and suddenly they think they’re untouchable.”

Talia let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re actually unbelievable.”

Ryder ignored her, eyes still fixed on the screen. “Look at her,” he continued, tone colder, more dismissive. “You can already tell she’s the type—lives off attention, probably posts just to watch people drool over her. And it works, sure, but that doesn’t make her special. It just makes her predictable.”

Chat flooded with a mix of outrage and encouragement, feeding directly into his attitude.

“And let’s not get it twisted,” Ryder added, leaning back again with a slow, arrogant smirk. “Why would I ever go for someone like that? RydeorDie doesn’t date girls who peak on Instagram. I’m not about to waste my time on someone who’d turn into a full-time problem the second she realizes who I am.”

Mason snorted. “You’re talking like she’d even give you the time of day.”

Ryder let out a sharp laugh, the sound edged with pure ego. “Please. If I wanted her attention, I’d have it in five minutes. That’s not the issue.” His gaze flicked back to the profile one last time, something calculating behind it before he scoffed. “The issue is she’s not worth it. Hot doesn’t mean interesting, and it definitely doesn’t mean she could keep up with me.”

Talia muttered, “God, you’re insufferable.”

“Yeah,” Ryder replied easily, already tabbing back into his game. “And I’m still right.”

He didn’t spare the profile another glance, acting like it had already been forgotten—but his chat hadn’t. Clips were already spreading, his words dissected and shared, making sure that by the time the stream ended, there was no chance the girl in that profile wouldn’t hear exactly what RydeorDie thought of her.

Ryder’s stream was already in full chaos, the glowing RydeorDie banner stretched across the top of the screen while tens of thousands of viewers spammed messages faster than they could be read. Neon LEDs lit the expensive setup around him, reflecting off his sharp features as he lounged in his chair with the careless confidence of someone entirely aware that people watched just to hear him talk. His headset sat crooked over dark hair while he argued loudly with his friends between matches, trash-talking opponents and his own teammates with equal enthusiasm.

Then Mason’s voice crackled through Discord. “Yo, chat found a girl for Ryder. They swear she’s his type.”

Ryder scoffed immediately, not even glancing away from his monitor. “Chat doesn’t know my type. Half of them think a girl being mildly toxic makes her interesting.” He scratches behind Appa's ears, smiling a rare genuine smile at the dog.

Talia laughed. “Just look at the profile, idiot.”

Mason dropped the link into their group chat, and Ryder clicked it with exaggerated disinterest—already wearing the smug expression of someone preparing a joke—until the profile loaded on his second monitor.

He froze.

For a moment, he simply stared.

Then, under his breath and before he could stop himself, he muttered, “...Jesus. She’s hot.”

The call exploded with laughter.

Talia practically screamed. “NO WAY—clip that!”

Mason wheezed into his mic. “He folded in two seconds!”

Ryder’s expression hardened the second he realized what he had admitted. He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, recovering quickly as arrogance settled back over his features. “Relax. I said she’s hot, not that I’d ever go near her.” His lip curled into a mocking smirk as he looked over the profile again. “Girls like that are always the same—pretty enough to think they’re special, probably expects everyone in the room to worship her.”

Chat flooded with outrage and laughing emotes.

Ryder only smirked wider.

“And let’s be realistic,” he continued, voice dripping with disdainful confidence, “why would RydeorDie date some random girl like that? She’d probably lose her mind the second she got attention from someone with actual status.” He gave a dismissive shrug. “I’m too popular to waste time on girls who get clingy because a streamer looked in their direction.”

Talia laughed. “God, you’re such a dick.”

“Just honest,” Ryder replied.

Mason snorted. “Sounds like he’s scared she’d reject him.”

Ryder barked out a sharp laugh. “Reject me? Please.” His gaze flicked back to the profile, lingering just a little too long before he clicked away. “If Ryder wanted her, he’d have her. But hot girls with attitudes are replaceable. There’s a million of them in LA.”

Then he tabbed back into the game as if the conversation meant nothing, smug grin firmly back in place—completely unaware that chat had already clipped every second of it and begun spreading it across the internet, making sure that by morning, the girl in the profile would see exactly what RydeorDie had said.

TwitchCon was exactly the kind of environment Ryder thrived in—loud, crowded, and filled with people eager for his attention. Cameras flashed every few feet as fans swarmed around him, calling out “RydeorDie!” while he walked the convention floor with the effortless swagger of someone who knew he was the main event. Mason and Talia trailed behind him, already annoyed by how much Ryder was basking in the attention.

“God, your ego’s going to need its own hotel room after this,” Talia muttered.

Ryder smirked, adjusting the expensive jacket draped over his shoulders. “Jealousy’s ugly on you, sweetheart.”

He barely got another word out before someone collided with him hard from the side.

A cold splash hit his chest.

Silence.

Ryder looked down slowly at the dark stain spreading across his shirt, iced coffee dripping from the hem of his jacket onto the convention floor.

Then his gaze lifted.

His expression sharpened instantly.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Mason immediately burst out laughing.

Talia doubled over. “No way—someone finally humbled him.”

Ryder ignored them completely, staring down at the person in front of him with open disbelief. His voice came out sharp, irritated, and dripping with condescension. “Do people usually just throw drinks at strangers, or is this a special skill?” He tugged at the soaked fabric of his shirt with visible disgust. “This jacket costs more than most people’s rent.”

Around them, nearby attendees had already started staring, several whispering excitedly as they recognized him.

Ryder let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. Five minutes at TwitchCon and some clumsy fan dumps coffee on me.” His eyes dragged over the culprit—then paused.

Recognition flashed.

His brows lifted.

Then his mouth twisted into something smug and cruel.

“Well, well.” Ryder folded his arms despite the mess soaking into his clothes. “Aren’t you the same girl everyone’s been losing their minds over online?” He gave a mocking once-over, lip quirking upward. “Figures. Pretty face, zero coordination.”

“Ryder—” Mason started warningly.

“No, no,” Ryder cut him off, eyes never leaving her. “Actually, this makes sense. Guess she needed a creative way to get my attention.” He tilted his head, voice laced with sarcasm. “Could’ve just asked for a picture, sweetheart. Assaulting me with caffeine feels dramatic.”

Talia groaned. “You are impossible.”

Ryder ignored her, still staring down at the soaked front of his shirt before fixing her with an unimpressed look. “So what’s the plan here? Apology? Dry cleaning bill? Or are you going to stand there looking guilty while my entire day smells like vanilla cold brew?”

Despite the irritation in his voice, there was a glint in his eyes—half annoyance, half amusement—as if the situation had suddenly become far more interesting than it should have.

And judging by the way his gaze lingered, Ryder Harlow clearly hadn’t forgotten her since the stream.