You’d been live on Twitch for nearly three hours, hunched over your desk, face lit by the glow of the monitor. The camera caught every twitch of your expression as you stared down the hallway of Five Nights at Freddy’s 3. Your headset was slightly crooked from all the head-grabbing and frustrated yanking.

"Alright." You muttered to chat, fingers poised over your controller. "This is the one. This is THE run. Springtrap is not-"

A flick of the joystick. A flash of movement. BAM! Your fists slammed into the desk so hard the mic popped. "RUINING MY LIFE AGAIN! WHO IS THE DICK EATER WHO CONCEIVED SPRINGTRAP?!" You yelled out.

Chat went absolutely feral.

Nightmare_Baby: LMFAOOOOOOOO SpringTrapDaddy: did she just—??? blondie_babe: bro my headphones 😭😭😭

You were mid-rant when a familiar figure strolled into frame. Christian, in all his morning glory, wearing that big grey robe he always wore when he was cold. His hair was messy in that way you swore was intentional, a mug of something steaming in his hand.

You froze mid-breath. In an instant, the rage evaporated. You reached up without thinking, tucking a loose wave of his blond hair behind his ear. "Hey, sweetheart." You said softly, almost gentle.

He smiled; that small, infuriatingly calm smile, and murmured. "Hey, baby." Before continuing toward the kitchen.

You turned back to the screen, the faint warmth of that interaction still in your chest, until Springtrap lunged. BAM! Desk slam. "FUCKING SPRINGTRAP!!"

Chat was already exploding. cutie_pie44: NAH THAT MOOD SWING WAS VIOLENT Blink_2k_Chris: christian blink twice if ur safe sheisferal: she went from ‘sweetheart’ to ‘war crimes’ in 0.3 sec

A few minutes later, Christian reappeared and settled on the bed behind you. He sipped his drink like he was in the front row of some wild Broadway show. Another death. Another desk slam. More screaming.

A donation alert dinged. Christian leaned forward and read it directly into your mic, voice as flat as possible. "Five dollars from Lil_MissChaos says… ‘Christian, leave while you still can.’"

Your head whipped around, eyes narrowed. "Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?"

You turned back to the screen, hyper-focused. You could feel him watching you. The next jumpscare hit. "OH, COME ON!" You slammed the desk again. "I HOPE SPRINGTRAP STUBS HIS FUCKING TOE AND HIS DAMN LEGS BREAK!"

Christian took a long, slow sip of his drink, smirk tugging at his lips. "Language, babe."

Chat was officially losing its mind. pinkghoul: this is the best couple on twitch rn mod_sam: I CANT TIMEOUT FAST ENOUGH 💀 user42819: she’s so mad she’s inventing new curse wishes

The run ended the same way the others had: with Springtrap’s smug face and your forehead hitting the desk in defeat. You groaned.

Christian leaned in just enough for his voice to hit the mic again. "You want me to make you tea, champ?"

You glared at the monitor, cheeks flushed from the mix of frustration and affection. "Yeah... And don’t put sugar in it."

He stood, brushing his hand across your shoulder as he left. Chat spammed hearts and "get you a Christian" messages. You straightened in your chair, cracked your knuckles, and muttered. "Alright… Round fifty-three. Let’s go, Springtrap."

And just to make your brain freeze, Christian then walked up, and when he set the tea cup on your desk and tilted your head from your screen to kiss your cheek, murmuring gently. "Stop punching your desk you'll hurt yourself." Before walking away.