"Droid, I swear to god, if you do that again, I'm going to throttle you." Despite the threat, you were laughing. You and the guys were running the new Mario Kart, fucking with the new maps.

"It's not my fault I keep getting blue shells while you're in first!"

"It is your fault that you keep hitting me right before the finish line!"

The rest of the group was howling with laughter as you and Droid argued. You'd been killing it tonight, getting first or second so often that everyone was gunning for you.

It just happened to be Puffer and Droid who had the best luck with shells. Between Droid's blue shell attacks and Puffer's constant red shells, you were getting annoyed, though that was the luck of the draw.

"You have to stop letting Puffer beat me by hitting me with the blues."

"We can't let the woman win!" Puffer yells.

"Fuck off, Puffer! You always fucking win! Let me be good at something!"

"Guys," Grizzy giggled, "let's not argue!"

"Shut up, Grizzy!" You and Puffer yelled it in tandem, sparking another argument and more laughter. The next game loads in and you're off, locked in on winning no matter what gets thrown at you this time.

Even through the assault of shells and boomerangs and whatever the fuck else the guys get, you're deathly silent, glaring at the screen. You don't spare a single glance for chat the entire time, don't even remember the fact you're on stream for a moment.

When you finally cross in first, lovely, relieving first, you're screaming your victory.

"Suck it, assholes! First for the girl! Take that!" Cries of dissent follow your celebration, but nothing can take the smile off your face.

"You know, I don't think I've ever hear nothing from you for an entire race," Pezzy says. "That was actually impressive."

"Hey!" Your smile shifts into a pout, making the rest of the guys laugh.

"Guys," Smiity says. "It doesn't even matter, she doesn't have the most points. It was one win."

"Smitty, so help me god, I will end you," you threaten. Your chat is blowing up with Ws and laughter which ruined your serious facade, making you snort.

Another half hour later and you finally, finally, come away with the crown, cheering and goading. Puffer especially gripes about your victory, bringing about the usual hyena cackles from the rest of the group.

"I think she earned it after the torture you, Droid, and Smiity put her through." Pezzy argues on your behalf, making you grin further.

"Thank you for defending my honor, my knight."

"Anything for you," he says. Cue the joking gags and Puffer's standard call of "Get a room!"

"He and I are literally a single room apart," you say.

"Well get one without us in it!"

"Don't tell me how to function with my girlfriend," Pezzy tells him. "Besides, she stole my cat."

"I didn't steal her! She just likes the tower in here!"

"You guys are so sickeningly cute," Grizzy groans. "Get out of here, I've had enough Mario Kart for the day, anyway."

Laughing, everyone else slowly leaves the discord until it's just you and your boyfriend. You leave first, ending stream to go join him, pulling up the spare chair you keep in his office, leaning your head on his shoulder as you just yap to chat.

Your head hurt. Like, stake through your forehead hurt.

Migraines were never fun, but especially not when you were trying to stream so that your audience had their bi-nightly entertainment.

The guys didn't help much, given that they were always loud. The screaming match over whatever stupid steam game Smitty convinced you guys to download was too much when combined with the light from your monitor.

You'd been falling more and more quiet for the past hour, now barely talking at all, just moving your character around and trying to get through the session. Ideally, you'd be done soon and able to curl up in bed with no light, no sound.

Just your blanket, water bottle, and weighted eye mask.

Pure heaven for a migraine.

"How many more times am I going to fucking fall!" Matt screamed. The rest of the guys began laughing, sending another spike of pain through your skull.

Puffer and Pezzy both began making fun of him, Droid and Smitty both cackling in the background. When your phone buzzed on your desk, you ignored it at first, just locked in on your own character.

But then the device buzzed again, more insistent. With a small huff through your nose, you picked it up, squinting at the light.

You okay?

You're really quiet.

As you read them, a third text came through. This time, a gif of a concerned bear. That one had your lips quirking up into a ghost of a smile.

Migraine. The yelling isn't helping.

Do you need anything?

Just for this session to end.

You looked back up to your monitors, scanning chat for a moment, most of your viewers asking if you were alright or why you were so quiet. For a rare moment, you ignored them, going back to moving your character through the map, doing your best to just beat the damn game so you could go to bed.

Without warning, your office door creaked open, footsteps coming closer. On instinct, you muted yourself and turned to see Nelson standing behind you, holding one of his hoodies out.

Slowly, you stood and took it from him, sliding it over your old Nirvana shirt. The fabric swallowed you and it was just as comfortable as you knew Nelson had been hoping.

"Thank you," you mumbled. "I'm ready to go to bed."

"You should go ahead and get off for the night," he whispered. One of his hands came up to cradle the side of your face, his eyes softening with worry as you pressed your cheek into his palm.

"I feel bad leaving before we beat the game. We're so close to the end."

He shook his head, a sigh falling from his mouth. "If you don't get away from the screen and the noise, it's just going to get worse."

"I know," you told him, "but I just...I did really want to play this one. I was looking forward to today's stream. I can't give up a stream day."

"You can if it's for your own health." His thumb traced across your cheekbone, your eyes closing at the comfort in the gesture. "Come on. Let's get you to bed. We can try again another day, alright?"

"Okay," you whispered. "Okay."

"Good." He leaned forward to press a careful kiss to your forehead. "I'm getting off, too. I'll make you some tea for bed."

"You don't have to." Your eyes opened again, meeting his. "You can stay on with the guys for a while longer."

"Not when I need to take care of you." Your smile grew a little despite the ache in your cranium.

"You're so sweet it's sickening."

"You love it, though."

"I do." You leaned forward into his chest, giving him a hug. "Alright, I'll close out. See you in five?"

"Hopefully less."

The guys, as always, were understanding about you leaving, though you heard them start to tease Grizzy when he said he'd be leaving, too. You talked to your chat for a minute, explaining why you'd gotten so quiet and why you were getting off, apologizing for the short stream.

By the time you were done, Nelson was already in your guys' bedroom, a cup of your favorite tea on your nightstand next to your filled water bottle and eye mask.

you had been miserable.

what had originally been a day of working from home-given you'd woken with a horrid migraine-had slowly turned into this.

your office was dark, the curtains drawn. the only light came from your computer as you answered emails, joined meetings virtually, tried to work on your data sheets for the extra project your boss has given you the day before.

it started with an innocent visit in the morning.

jaime brought you a coffee and one of your yogurts with a bowl of fruit he'd cut for you. when you thanked him, he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head before slipping back out of the room.

an hour later he was back, taking your water bottle to fill it up, bringing you some pain killers in case you hadn't already taken any (which you hadn't). that time, the kiss was at your temple.

another hour passed with your first meeting that left you with your head on the desk and he brought a cool washcloth to drape over the back of your neck. as you thanked him again, he kissed your forehead before yet again leaving you be.

the next time he came back, it was to bring you lunch. your favorite meal, warm and tasting like home. like relief. he sat with you the whole time you ate, even as you got on another call, before taking the empty dish and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

not even an hour later he was back to refill your water bottle again. but he required a price.

"one kiss and i'll give it to you." his voice was soft, but the teasing lilt was there.

you huffed out a laugh. "you're such a dork, you know that?"

"yeah," he shrugs, "but i'm your dork."

that got a full smile out of you. "yeah, you are."

the kiss was quick and soft, but it made something in your chest perk up. finally, he relented your water bottle and shuffled back out, running his hand along your shoulder as he went.

then he started coming back sooner. a snack, a diet coke since the caffiene usually helped a bit, more water even though it was still half full, another wash cloth to replace the one abandoned on your desk.

each gift was accompanied by a kiss. each one still made your stomach flutter as if it were the first one shared outside your apartment two years ago.

then, after his fourth water run, he pulled his own office chair into your room, sitting next to you, hand resting on your knee, tracing absent patterns.

finally, at nearly five, he was bugging you to log off early so you could rest. the pulsing behind your eyes had only gotten worse as you stared at your computer screen, but you were a little too determined to get that stupid project done.

so, he took matters into his own hands.

a kiss to the hand he pulled away from your keyboard. a brush of his lips against your neck. one to your cheek. your temple. the corner of your eye. the tip of your nose.

at first, they were spaced apart by a minute or two, then they were constant.

he continued the game until you were laughing and leaned back in your chair, abandoning your computer entirely.

the action was rewarded by a more lingering kiss that had you leaning into him, his fingers playing in your hair, yours tangled in his shirt.

finally, as if in prize to his efforts, he convinced you to fully log off and let him carry you to bed. there you two lay, tangled in each other.

"thank you," you whisper into his chest.

"what for?" his voice thrumbs against your cheek, warming you from the inside out.

"taking care of me today."

"you don't have to thank me." his hand runs up and down your back, fingers dancing along each rise and divot of your spine. "it's the least i can do."

"maybe," you hum, "but still. it means a lot to me. to know you care so much."

"of course i do." another soft kiss lands on the top of your head.

"you know," you joke, "i think i'm feeling a bit better after all those kisses."

"that's because they're magic kisses." his voice is serious, but it's broken by the gentle laugh he can't hold back. "they chase away all the bad."

"healing kisses, huh? guess i lucked out with you."

"not at much as i lucked out with you."

you grin, burying your face further into his chest. "i love you, jaime."

Somehow, you never got used to it.

Three years into a relationship with Grizzy and it still caught you off guard every time you saw it.

That little furrow of his brow when he was concentrated on anything, only to turn into the brightest, most adorable smile you'd ever seen. The way his cheeks looked downright pinchable, the way his eyes crinkled, the absolutely jubilant laugh that spilled out seconds later.

It always made you want to just grab his face and squish it.

It didn't matter if you were watching stream from a different room of the house and sitting in as a mod, sitting in a chair or on the floor in his office, or even just out and about on a date or with any of the guys.

You always wanted to slap your hands against his cheeks and just keep them there.

You'd heard the term before. Cuteness aggression. Usually, it was in the context of seeing a puppy or a kit and just getting so overwhelmed with how adorable they were that you'd want to squeeze the life out of them.

Arguably the strangest evolutionary phenomena around but one that attacked you on the daily.

And now, in your usual chair next to Nelson in his office, half on your phone, half watching him play another one of Smiity's stupid stream games, it struck again.

The way his whole face lit up, the sound of his laugh making your chest burst.

It was irresistible.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you'd pushed to your feet and clapped your palms against his cheeks, accidentally forcing him into a fish-face as you made him look at you.

He just stared at you as you returned it, your brows furrowed, his face still absolutely glowing with that grin.

"Yes, baby?" His voice was soft. Amused. Even if you didn't do this often, he knew exactly what it was about.

"You're too cute sometimes," you muttered. It only made him laugh again, pushing that cuteness aggression even further until you were borderline glaring at him, hands still presses against his face, leaning closer until your nose was nearly brushing his. "It's unfair."

The way your glare shifted into a pout only made him laugh harder, one of his hands finding your waist and giving a soft squeeze.

"You do know I'm still on stream, right?"

"Well aware."

"Chat can hear you."

"Chat knows exactly what I'm talking about." A glance only confirmed your words, the chat scrolling by almost too quick to read, but a few that you caught were agreeing with you. Others were calling your reaction cute, despite the way you were clinging to Nelson's face.

"Puffer says that you're ridiculous."

"Puffer can shut it."

The rest of stream, your chair was pulled closer to his, your fingers jumping up to pinch his cheek any time he laughed, which started the cycle all over again.

Yeah, even three years later, it still hit you hard. Maybe even harder than before, but Nelson loved it.

Pezzy wouldn't let you do anything yourself. You were moving into his house with him, afterall. You're his princess, why would he let you do any manual labor?

He insisted on moving as many boxes as he could for you so that you could just stand around and watch. It was cute but frustrating. Especially when he brought in your gaming setup and began putting it together himself.

As much as you loved him, you could do it yourself. And you preferred to do it yourself.

It was your stuff, to be fair, and he already did so much for you. You just wanted to be able to piece it all together like you'd done in your last place.

But, to also be fair, it was really cute to see him under the desk on his back as if he were checking the undercarriage of your car rather than trying to organize all your cables so that your feet wouldn't get caught in them. It was like he was your desk mechanic. Your personal handyman.

"You know," you huffed, "I can do this myself."

"Yeah, but I like doing it for you," he said. He was mostly hidden under your desk from where you sat in your chair (which he'd also put back together for you), legs and arms crossed.

"I appreciate it, babe." And you did. But the rest came out as well. "But it is my setup. I can do it."

He peeked out at you, giving you those oh-so-familiar puppy dog eyes that always had you breaking. "I just want you to be able to relax."

"I've been relaxing all day because you won't let me touch anything." In spite of your pride you were pouting. Rightfully so but still. You didn't like pouting because it made him baby you more. "I just want to do something."

"I let you unpack the boxes," he argued.

"Yeah. And then you took whatever I unpacked and put it away."

"Not your clothes."

"Because we haven't touched those yet." It went quiet for a moment. "Max, I know you wanna help but it's more than helping when I'm barely allowed to touch my own stuff."

"You said we could do it together, though."

"Yeah. Together. Not the princess sitting by useless and pretty."

He rolled out from under your desk and sat on his knees, hands reaching out to grab your own, uncrossing your arms. He kissed one of your palms, muttering against it. "I like it when you sit pretty."

Your face flushed, fire dancing its way down your throat. "That's-I-Don't distract me! I'm supposed to be annoyed with you!"

He gave you a shit-eating grin. "I know. Let me be your hands while you sit there and be my lovely distraction and motivation."

"Not sure I can be both at the same time."

"Oh, trust me, babe, you have been all day." He kissed your palm again before getting up to leave the room. "Come on, I need to get another box and I need my supervisor around to make sure I get the right one."

With a roll of your eyes you followed him, confirming that it was the right box even though it was labeled in thick sharpie. You trailed uselessly after him but the annoyance was no longer there.

Just love for the man in front of you.

As much of a little rat he was, he was yours. And to be fully honest, none of your previous partners had treated you as well as he does. He may not have been perfect, he may be annoying, he may drive you up the wall and the pull you right back down by dumping his cat in your lap to soften your resolve, but he was a perfect fit for you.

"So can I finish my own setup now?"

I sniffle, curling into a tighter ball under the covers. My laptop in front of me is the only source of light in the room, as well as my entertainment while I'm coughing my lungs out.

"Yeah, X is still sick. That's why she's not streaming. She's in here as a mod, though, I think. Are you, X?" I reach out, typing with one hand. 'im here'

"They're still sick?" Puffer's voice joins the mix. "It's been a week now."

"Yeah," Max says, "she's feeling pretty shitty."

'tell puff boy not to worry about me' I type 'im fine'

"You're not fine," he argues. "Puffer, she says not to worry too much."

"X, take better care of yourself." The worried tone in his voice shines through the monotonous drawl. With another cough, I roll out of bed and wander down the hall to Max's office and walk in. He turns around as I do so, frowning.

"You should be resting right now, what are you doing?" 

Rather than answer, I pull his headset off and put it on my own ears and get close to his mic, half leaning on his desk.

"Shut up, Puffer, I'm fine."

"Woah, you sound like a smoker. Are you okay?" Chat fills with similar sentiment, making me scowl. "Is it just a cold?"

"I think mild laryngitis. I had no voice at all yesterday," I rasp. "I'm fine, though, don't worry."

"X-"

"'Kay, that's all. Later, I'm sitting down." I hand Max his headset and do exactly that, plopping down on the floor next to him, leaning my head against his leg. From my vantage, I can see parts of his monitors and notice that his cam can see the top part of my head.

"No she's sitting on the floor next to me. X, Puffer says go back to bed. So do I." I hum in disagreement and stay where I am, closing my eyes. "Alright, hang on, I'm muting for a second."

There's a few clicks and the sound of him placing his headset on the desk and then his hand is on my head, lightly musing my hair.

"X, come on, you gotta get back to bed. You can stay in as a mod but you need to be resting."

"I am resting," I argue.

"You know what I mean." I tilt my head to look at him, frowning. His brow is creased as he looks down at me, worry pulling at his face.

"I feel lonely," I admit. "You know how I am when I don't feel good."

"I know." His voice is gentle, as is his hand as it slides down to cup my cheek. "I won't be streaming for too much longer, okay? For now go back to bed."

I go to say something but end up in a coughing fit that has me doubled over, hacking into my crossed legs. His hand presses gently into the top of my spine to comfort me until I can breathe normally again. 

"X, please, go back to bed. I'll only be live for another half hour or so, okay?"

"Okay." He helps me to my feet and walks me down the hall to the bedroom, laying me down on the bed and covering me with the blankets again. "I'll be back soon."

He kisses my forehead before walking back to his office. As he's settling back in, I read chat. A lot of them are calling us cute while others are wishing me well. There's a couple who want to be trolls and are making fun of me for being sick but I give them warning mutes. Max sees one that I miss, though, and gets mad fast.

"Hey, if you wanna make fun of me do it. I know X doesn't really care if you make fun of her either, but don't be a shit about us being together. You're fucking banned and I'm doing it myself." I haven't heard him this pissed at someone in chat since a few months ago when a couple people wanted to make creepy comments on my body when I was wearing a cropped sweater and sweats. "I know some of you think you know what's best for us but you don't so shut the fuck up and leave us alone."

His protectiveness over me always makes me smile, even if I don't like what triggers it. 

Suddenly, chat is a lot faster. Most of what I can read is people telling Max to pop off and telling others to leave us alone or defending our happiness. I ban a few trolls myself, not even bothering to give warnings. 

"Puffer, I'm getting off in 30," he says.

"Aw, do you need to take care of the baby?" Immediately, I open a different Twitch tab, albeit muted, and get into Puffer's chat. Where I'm also a mod. 'shut the fuck up puff boy'

"She's not a-"

"Hey! Get outta my chat you fuckin' rat!" I giggle a little before typing again. 

'make me. im a mod bitch'

"X, you better not be bullying Puffer in his chat."

"She is. I'm gonna ban her."

"Don't ban her."

"She's being annoying. Maybe I should."

"You'll be down a mod." There's a moment of silent deliberation before Max jumps back in. "And she's on cold meds right now. You know how she gets when she's on cold meds."

Puffer lets out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. You're safe for now, X. But get out of my chat and go sleep."

I close his stream and go back to Max's, watching people celebrate my non-ban in Puffer's chat. Soon, I see spam of a clip link. I click it, filled with curiosity.

It's the moment of Max playing with my hair and cupping my face as I sat on the floor beside him. You can just see it with my positioning and the tilt of my head. Heat rushes my face as I click back on the stream. 

Chat flies by in a flurry, a lot of hearts and coos and calling us cute. Some of them even label it as "relationship goals." Max is too absorbed in the game and his conversation with Puffer to notice. I'm silently thankful for that, especially as the clip fades away and the conversation switches to the game again.

For the next twenty minutes all is calm. Max gets off the call with Puffer to do his ending, talking to chat for a little. I'm half asleep as I monitor chat until I see the link again.

"Oh, new clips?" Before I can say anything, Max clicks it and shows his whole stream. Chat explodes into their fawning again while Max just stares at it, letting it play a couple times. 

originally, you joining him in the studio had been a here and there thing. another way for you guys to spend time together while working. he'd record with his friends or-like now-paint while you did your own thing in the corner of his office.

sometimes you'd be reading, sometimes working on your own art project, sometimes actually working and typing away on your laptop, or even just talking with him while he painted.

then, the sessions became more common.

you guys had been dating for over a year. your time began to meld together, activities combining, until you two did virtually everything together.

and when he wasn't chatting with you, you'd normally be locked in on separate things.

it's how today had started. like normal, you'd brought your laptop into his office and sat in your usual spot to get some emails done. once those were taken care of, you did a few project pieces before picking up your current book.

by that time, he'd gotten off the session and started painting.

before long, your book began to bore you. it didn't happen often, but every now and then it did. your attention just wasn't in it or the story wasn't all that interesting or-god forbid-the writing just wasn't that good.

tonight it was the first. your attention just wasn't on the book.

but john was still painting.

still working away, sweeping the brush across the canvas, mixing paints. all while pulling that little "concentration face" that you'd once made fun of him for.

slowly, your book fell into your lap and you just watched him work. with music playing in the background, you fell into just as much of a trance as him.

watching his hands move so intentionally, watching the cute scrunch of his face as he focused, seeing the piece come to life bit by bit. his flow and he himself were just...entrancing.

until he caught you.

"you know," he chuckled, "it's hard to focus when i can feel your eyes on me the whole time."

your face erupted in flames, mouth opening and closing like a damn fish. "i'm just admiring your art."

"only my art?" he turns to you with an eyebrow raised. you could see the twitch of his lips, though, as he fought off a smile.

"shut up," you groaned. your head thunked against the wall behind you, making him laugh fully. "you're cute when you're focused, okay? is it a crime to watch my boyfriend do something he loves?"

"no. just distracting." you peek at his cheeky grin, grumbling again. "don't worry, i think you're cute for it, too."

"oh, shut up," you whined. but now you were smiling, too.

sometimes getting caught wasn't so bad. especially when it led to him having you perch in his lap so he could guide your hands through the brushstrokes instead.

that shared painting now hung above your guys' bed, highlighted for you to see every day.

It started because you were stressed one day. You don't even remember how long ago it was or what it was even about but you found your way into his office after something at work drove your battery to the absolute limit and just sat on the floor next to him.

He'd been speedrunning. Not that you remembered what, but it was what he'd been doing. So you sat on the floor next to him, back to the wall, knees curled up as you played on your phone.

A few weeks later you did the same thing.

And again.

Soon it became habit. Even beyond being stressed or anxious or even just tired, as soon as you were done for the day, if he was speedrunning, you were on the floor next to him.

Most of the time now you even stayed nearby until he started speedrunning and then you would creep into his office and find your spot on the floor.

Sometimes, Sly would join you, curling up in your lap. Sometimes you'd have food as you sat there. Most of the time, though, you were either watching him or scrolling on your phone.

You liked being in there with him, he enjoyed being able to reach over and pat your head if he was getting frustrated. Or half the time just because he could.

It was part of your guys' normal now.

It was even at the point where if you weren't in there within the first few minutes of him running, he'd come find you or text you. He said it was because your presence made him better at runs.

Like a four leaf clover or a rabbit's foot, he said. You were his good luck charm. You didn't really believe it but him and chat did. Besides it meant you got to spend more time with him whether you guys talked during the runs or not.

A win either way.

Until he ruffled your hair too much, at least. Then he was in for a world of snarky comments and playful side eyes.

And if you ever fell asleep sitting on the floor, he'd get off stream as quickly and quietly as possible before carrying you to bed and tucking you in.