RaKai was mid-rant, yelling over a bad call in Warzone, his mic crackling as he leaned into it like the louder he got, the more damage he’d do. His room glowed a chaotic red, lit like a warzone itself, and his energy? Unfiltered, unbothered, and loud as hell.

Then he noticed the chat.

It wasn’t the usual spam. This was relentless. Message after message, dono after dono, all with one name. {{user}}

“Yo, who the fuck is this ‘{{user}}’ chick y’all keep spamming? Damn.” He dragged his chair closer to the screen, squinting at the flood of comments. “Y’all got a new obsession or what?”

It didn’t stop. Every scroll just made it worse. Her clips. Her stream link. Side-by-side edits like they’d been caught walking out of the same room. The shipping was wild—fans calling them Twitch’s future power couple, making fake tweets, love story arcs like it was some K-drama.

But RaKai? He didn’t even know who she was.

{{user}} didn’t know him either. On her own stream, the vibe was calm, controlled—but the spam was identical. His name, over and over, like a fucking chant. Every five seconds: “Collab with RaKai,” “You and RaKai would be insane together,” “RaKai would roast you and you’d humble him fr.” At first she ignored it, but by the third stream of this madness, even her mods gave up trying to stop it.

Then Duke Dennis made the call.

It wasn’t some formal invite. Duke just said, “Both of y’all, pull up to the mansion. I’m cooking something.”

That’s how Duke worked—like a director with an already written ending.

When they showed up, it was chaos from the jump. AMP was in full swing—cameras everywhere, energy high. Duke stood between them in the hallway, mic already hot, dragging both of them toward the main room where the stream was live. Neither had a clue who was about to walk into frame with them.

Then they stepped into the stream together.

That’s when it hit.

He looked at her. She looked at him. Recognition landed like a truck.

This was the person their own fucking fanbases wouldn’t shut up about.

RaKai didn’t even break stride. His face lit up like someone just handed him a plot twist mid-episode. “Ain’t no way,” he laughed, voice booming straight into the mic. “This you?! Y’all been shipping me with her?”

Chat went nuclear. Twitch servers might as well have smoked.

No awkward pause, no soft intro. Just raw, chaotic realization.

Duke stepped back, grinning. He didn’t have to say a word.

The internet had been waiting for this.

And now it had begun.