Cream & Communism Chapter 1...
Characters: Hasan Piker//you **
Just something fun I came up with a few days ago, finally getting pen to paper on it. ENJOY
Now live on AoC here!
You’d watched him stream through power outages, through breakups, through the absolute dregs of modern politics. Hasan was background noise when you were folding laundry, entertainment when you were meal-prepping, emotional support when your landlord raised rent again.
He was a habit. A parasocial one, sure—but so is caffeine.
You rarely typed in chat. That space was its own chaotic biome—inside jokes, mods bickering, subscriber spam, emotes flying by like migrating birds. You watched. You lurked. Sometimes you smiled quietly to yourself when someone made a good joke. Sometimes you rolled your eyes when chat got weird about a guest’s outfit.
But you stayed silent. Safe.
Until tonight.
Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way his hair looked under that stupid LED backlight, pulled back messily, those loose strands catching blue around the temples like the moonlight was flirting with him. Maybe it was the way his hoodie dipped just low enough to reveal that chain on his collarbone—something about the soft cotton and gleaming metal that made you think about biting things.
Whatever the reason, you typed.
imagine sitting on your face during the trump debate stream. you’d never come back up for air.
You hit Enter before you could second-guess it.
The line scrolled by with a dozen others. You figured it’d disappear instantly. Forgotten.
Then he stopped mid-sentence.
His eyes flicked to chat.
Brows pulled together.
“Bro,” he muttered. “What the fuck—hold on...”
You froze.
No, no, no—
His eyes scanned the screen, then narrowed.
“Who the fuck is—‘OohLaLatte69’?” he read out loud. He pronounced it slowly, like he couldn’t decide if he was amused or deeply offended.
You wanted to dissolve into the floor.
Hasan leaned toward the monitor. “‘Imagine sitting on your face during the Trump debate stream. You’d never come back up for air.’ ARE YOU GOOD?”
The chat exploded.
💀💀💀
CAUGHT LIVE OMG
she horny on main fr
ban her lmfao
MODS
“I—I—bro. No. You’re getting muted. That’s a timeout,” Hasan said, clicking furiously. “You can’t just drop that in the middle of a take about fracking!”
Muted. Ten minutes. The little gray icon appeared beside your name.
The worst part?
You saw the exact moment he tried to hold back a laugh. His mouth twitched. His eyes crinkled. He ran a hand over his face and muttered something about degenerates and sex pests and needing a palate cleanser.
And then he moved on.
Just like that.
But you couldn’t.
You stared at the screen. Heart hammering like you’d just confessed a crime.
Muted. Silenced.
You didn’t even really regret it.
You regretted getting caught.
You didn’t tell your best friend.
She was a mod now. Deep in the trenches. She’d recognize your chat name instantly. She’d laugh herself breathless, then post a screenshot to the Discord. You’d never live it down.
So you stayed quiet.
You kept lurking.
After the timeout ended, you didn’t type anything for a week. Then a month. You changed your profile picture. Subscribed with Prime, but anonymously. You watched him play horror games with the lights off. Watched him rage at Valorant. Watched him argue with chat about rent control and milk pricing and how often men should wash their towels.
But you didn’t speak again.
You couldn’t risk it.
Especially now.
Because that same voice that mocked you for being horny on main?
That same face you watched from behind your laptop, curled up in bed with a spoonful of peanut butter and a weighted blanket?
It walked into your café.
Real. 3D. Larger than life.
And you—God help you—you looked him straight in the eye and said:
“Name for the order?”
But that’s Chapter 2.
