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i wanna get to you

Summary:

Venti has no idea who this DawnKnight guy is, and a part of him knows he’s just another wealthy sponsor keeping him situated nicely because he likes to watch him act like a pretty bimbo gamer boy on the internet, but another part of him squeezes his legs together a bit at just the sight of his username.

 

Venti is a popular twitch streamer with generous fans who regularly give him… a lot. He has a crush on an obscure faceless gamer, but thinks little of it until he reaches out and wants to meet!

//DiluVen gamer/streamer au because I Have To

Chapter Text

Venti has two different twitch accounts.

 

It’s not that he doesn’t think it’s cute when he joins to watch other people’s streams on his main account and the chat freaks out because “Oh my god! Barbatos is here!” or whatever. Venti wouldn’t have the career he does if he didn’t like attention.

 

But sometimes it’s nice to not totally derail what’s going on with just his presence.

 

So. Barbatos for business, WindborneBard for personal. Tidy and separate. It’s nice.

 

If you asked Barbatos who his favorite streamer was, besides himself, he’d probably say it was one of his friends, or even be a little funny and say it was one of his competitors for the type of content he makes. Not that any of the other cutesy femboy gamers even really come close to his own popularity, but still. The idea of playfully suggesting he also watches girlyboy streamers in his spare time to his audience amuses him.

 

The reality of what he does, when he feels like watching streams not for work but for fun, is quite different.

 

Venti watches a variety of things, actually. He has something of an eclectic taste. But his real favorite streamer is about as much the opposite of him as can be.

 

He rarely ever speaks, never shows his face, his following is tiny and incredibly niche, and the only kinds of streams he does are speedrun attempts or 100% completion playthroughs, largely of older games. And there are absolutely no adorable soundboard or donation noises, royalty free lo-fi playlists, or aesthetic graphics and animations, and he doesn’t even do stream countdowns or tweet out announcements or anything. He just streams when he streams, quietly does what he wants to do, and then disappears off the internet again.

 

Venti won’t deny that at least a part of the guy’s appeal is in the mystery—but he does genuinely enjoy his streams for the content as well. He’s an incredibly competent gamer, and he knows a lot about vintage games. Venti is usually always playing whatever is trendy or new on his streams, but when he isn’t working he loves the classics. So it’s nice to see someone else give forgotten favorites some love, too.

 

So Venti is excited when he’s lounging on the couch and he gets a notification that DarKnightHero is live. So much so that he nearly spills the glass of wine he’s been sipping in his hurry to sit up and rush to his desk.

 

He quickly logs into his private twitch account and joins the stream.

 

He’s one of only a handful of viewers who have shown up so far, but when he types a greeting in the chat, he hears a soft laugh from the streamer.

 

“Hello, Bard.” Welcomes the quiet, gruff voice.

 

Venti is ever-present in this man’s streams, so at this point, he’s come to recognize his username. The first time he said something about it, (pointing out how he hardly ever missed a stream) Venti found himself inexplicably giddy. Which he knew, better than most, being a streamer with millions and millions of followers himself, was incredibly silly. But he couldn’t help it.

 

He liked the idea of DarKnight being glad to see him around. Even if only begrudgingly.

 

By now, it’s become a common occurrence.

 

Venti grins ear to ear, and sends a sparkly heart emote in chat.

 

He’s aware he can’t pretend to really know this faceless man he watches play videogames on the internet, but nonetheless he imagines a fond eyeroll as his response to Venti’s glittery heart.

 

He’s enjoying watching this Castlevania speedrun stream, but even more he’s pleased to notice that DarKnight’s mic is muted for a lot less of it than usual. He wishes he could stay for the whole thing.

 

But he’s got a stream of his own, tonight, to get ready for.

 

He does some of the setup with DarKnight’s stream still open. Propping up and plugging in box lights, positioning the cute folding screen background behind his chair, changing into the frilly pink maid dress that was the reward for his last stream far surpassing his donation goal, and even doing his makeup. But when he has to start setting up OBS and whatnot, he figures he better go.

 

[ Sorry I can’t stay—have a good rest of your stream! ]

 

When his message appears in chat, some of the other regulars give him their goodbyes there.

 

But DarKnight sees it a moment later, and bids him goodbye, as well.

 

“Until next time, Bard.”

 

Venti finishes getting his stream ready, pops on the counter, grabs water and a few snacks, and then he’s getting into it.

 

He spins his chair around and starts welcoming everyone, asking if they’re ready for the outfit reveal. He waits until he’s heard the signature sounds indicating he’s received a handful of donations and bits, before turning back to face his camera.

 

Chat is immediately flooded with key smashes and hearts and general simp behavior, and he can’t help but giggle.

 

After a bit of time just chatting and flirting with donors, Venti thinks it’s about time to actually play today’s game.

 

It’s some demo for a new horror game he’s been given early access to, that honestly doesn’t seem like much of anything special, but Venti knows a decent chunk of his audience will eat the game up. And the ones that are indifferent toward the game, like him, are not so indifferent to his played-up reactions to jump scares. He knows they like to hear him squeal and whimper, and he’s happy to give the people what they want. He’s a performer, it’s in his nature .

 

He’s just loaded up the starting screen of the game, when he sees a familiar name pop up next to an astronomical number under his donations.



[ DawnKnight has donated $3500. You look… ridiculous. ]



It’s always like this.

 

Venti laughs, and winks into his camera.

 

“And you wouldn’t want me any other way!” He says in response, fluffing the ruffled edge of the dress where it rests against his smooth thighs.

 

DawnKnight is his biggest donor. Every stream. He scolds Venti, teases him, and sometimes even tries to tell him what to do in the videogames he plays. But Venti, and everyone else watching, knows he likes him. Even if Venti didn’t do half as well for himself as he does, he’d be totally set on this guy’s money alone



[ DawnKnight has donated $1500. Don’t be so sure. ]



Venti arches a brow.

 

“Oh? Then how do you want me?” There’s a glint in his eye as he asks this. He flirts with plenty of people, not only is it par for the course being a pretty femboy on the internet wanting to make money, but it’s also just his own personality. He likes to play around, to say sweet words with less sweet intentions, it’s fun . He’s at it nonstop.

 

But somehow the flush on his face that accompanies his smirk is a little more unconscious when he says something like that to DawnKnight. He has no idea who the guy is, and a part of him knows he’s just another wealthy sponsor keeping him situated nicely because he likes to watch him act like a pretty bimbo gamer boy on the internet, but another part of him squeezes his legs together a bit at just the sight of his username.



[ DawnKnight has donated $2000. Play your stupid game, Barbatos. ]



Venti is pleased with himself as he complies, and finally actually gets started.

 

He makes relatively quick work of the demo, even with exaggerated reactions to the horror elements, ends up turning the difficulty all the way up and doing it again, and then he sits around and talks with chat for a while, before fighting the urge to yawn.

 

He tells the stream he’s getting tired, but that he has another stream planned in two days that they’re really gonna like, and to keep their eyes peeled on Twitter to hear more about it, lingers just a little longer, and then starts wrapping up.

 

When the stream is ended, he grabs his camera and goes to take provocative pictures in his little maid dress before calling it a night. He sweeps with a broom, pretends to scrub a dish, bends over in his tub, among a few other promiscuous poses, and then puts all his lights and stuff away, and starts undoing the ties of the apron part of his costume.

 

He’s pulling some of the poofy layers off over his head when he hears the sound of a notification. Nearly tripping over his own feet, he goes back over to his desk to check. He’s a little confused, as he generally has nearly all of his social medias silenced, or else it would constantly be going off, only to see it’s on his private Twitch account.

 

DarKnightHero sent him a message.

 

He blinks at the screen.

 

Who even uses Twitch messaging?

 

This guy, apparently.

 

Opening it, he chews on the side of his thumbnail, uncharacteristically nervous.



[ Hello WindborneBard,

 

I appreciate your always watching my streams—not everyone gets the appeal of games so old and bugged that they’re barely playable, but I know I can always rely on seeing your enthusiasm in the chat. I’ve noticed that you know your fair share about rarer games, and I remember you mentioned once that you have a collection. I don’t know if you have an Atari or any Atari games, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to check. I was just wondering if perhaps you had a copy of Superman for the Atari, and if you’d be willing to negotiate lending it or selling it to me. If you’re interested you can message me here, or via text. I’ve added my number below.

 

Thanks,

DarKnightHero ]



Venti isn’t totally sure he’s not imagining this as he reads and reads over the message.

 

But when it clicks that at the very least, the number at the bottom is not only a real phone number but a number in his area code, he feels a little like fainting.

 

He paces around, wriggling the rest of the way out of the floofy pink fabric he’d been donning, and considers the situation. And then lands promptly on fuck it.

 

He types the number into his phone and sends a message.



[ So. I hear you like Superman? ]