Harem Streamer System: Every Crime I Broadcast Wins Me a Superheroine - Chapter 134

Chapter 134: ~Intermission~ Foxy Anxiety
Euilox Hotel, Metro City

The window creaked open with a soft, metallic groan as Vixen slipped through like a shadow, landing on the plush carpeted floor with feline grace. She turned back, pulling the window shut with a sharp click to seal out the distant noises of Metro City’s restless nightlife.

The room was dim.

Vixen exhaled, rolling her shoulders as she moved toward the standing mirror nestled in the corner.

Her reflection stared back.

She planted both hands on her massive hips, then tilted her head slightly.

『Jeez…』

The black, skin-tight bodysuit clung to her like a second skin, accentuating every curve with merciless precision. Her face scrunched as her nose wrinkled in mild disapproval.

“Hmm…”

She squinted, leaning in closer.

“Does it really have to look this tight?”

She tugged at the fabric, not that it made any difference.

It snapped right back into place.

Vixen sighed, then stepped back as her fingers drummed thoughtfully on her hips. She stared at herself, not just at the suit, but at what it represented—at what she had become.

The face in the mirror was sharp, flawless, framed by perfectly tousled hair and eyes designed to captivate.

A walking, breathing billboard.

『Is this it?』

She thought bitterly.

『Just another body to be marketed? Another pretty face people pretend to care about because it looks good on a screen?』

Her jaw tightened.

But then—unexpectedly—her reflection shifted in her mind.

A flicker of memory surfaced, uninvited.

Scott.

His face popped up in her thoughts, clear as day.

That annoyingly smug grin, the sharp shine in his eyes, the way he spoke without sugarcoating a single word.

She remembered his tone—so infuriatingly blunt.

But there was something else too… something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Her lips twitched.

She tried to suppress it, but it crept up anyway—a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Her fingers instinctively brushed against her chest, as if trying to contain the warmth bubbling there.

“Tch…”

She scoffed softly, then shook her head like it’d shake the feeling loose.

“What the hell’s wrong with me?”

She turned away from the mirror, pacing a few steps before glancing back—only to freeze.

For a split second, it wasn’t her reflection staring back.

It was him.

Scott, with that same lost, far-off look in his eyes, like he was always thinking about something he’d never admit out loud.

Her heart gave a little thud.

Vixen blinked, and the illusion was gone.

Just her reflection again, standing alone.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, letting out a soft laugh—half amused, half exasperated.

“Yeah… he’s alright in my book…”

She muttered under her breath.

“I don’t exactly like him that way… I just find the way he acts and speaks oddly… comforting.”

With that, she peeled off the bodysuit, then tossed it carelessly onto the floor, and made her way to the bathroom.

･･･

Half an hour later…

The bathroom door creaked open, releasing a wave of steam that drifted lazily into the room.

Vixen stepped out, her curvaceous figure wrapped snugly in a white towel, a smaller one draped around her neck as she dried her damp, messy hair. Her skin glistened faintly from the heat as a relaxed sigh escaped her lips.

“Ahh…”

She flopped onto the bed and the mattress sunk beneath the weight of her perky ass.

“Nothing like a cool shower to calm the nerves after a day of hard work.”

Her hand reached instinctively for her phone resting on the nightstand. The screen lit up to cast a faint glow on her face as the first message popped into view.

It was from Foxgirl.

[Alys: When do you plan to come see me? 😍 You’re still in Metro City, right?]

Vixen’s smile faded.

She stared at the message as her thumb hovered over the screen. The relaxed expression from moments ago slipped away, replaced by something heavier—duller.

After a brief pause, she started typing.

[Beca: Not in Metro City anymore. Took a flight back to Asteroid City a while ago. I’ll be staying here for some time for work 🫠 sowwy!]

She hit send.

Her eyes drifted toward the window, gazing out at the dazzling skyline of Metro City in the distance. The city lights blinked like scattered stars, beautiful yet distant.

She sighed softly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you…”

She whispered to herself.

“It’s just…”

Her fingers tightened around the phone.

“… it’s hard.”

She closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting to Foxgirl—her sister, her family. She pictured her face, the forced smiles in every photo, the way she laughed just a little too loud, like it could drown out the emptiness underneath.

“It’s not like she wanted to live her life like that…”

Vixen murmured as her voice trembled slightly.

“But not everyone gets to have it sweet.”

Her shoulders slumped as she stared down at her lap as the weight of guilt crushed into her chest.

“The more I look at her… the more inadequate I feel…”

She admitted quietly.

“I wish I could be the one to make those sacrifices, but… I just—I don’t know…”

She trailed off and her grip on the phone loosened.

“… I just can’t stand that level of shame.”

Heavy and raw were the words that left her lips.

Vixen tilted her head back, letting out a long, shaky breath.

Her eyes flicked once more toward the window.

Toward the city she’d left behind—and the sister she couldn’t face.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Sigh────HUH?

Vixen’s ears twitched.

It was subtle—barely noticeable—but there it was.

That nagging, restless itch.

She glanced down at her phone, the dim glow of her chat with Foxgirl still lingering on the screen. Her thumb hovered for a second before she sighed and exited the conversation.

Swipe.

Scott’s name popped up on her private message list, staring back at her like some silent dare.

“Hmmm…”

She squinted, tilting her head to the side as if that would help her think better.

『Should I just… text him?』

Her thumb tapped his name.

The empty chat screen opened—clean, untouched, like fresh snow.

『Maybe something casual? Like…』

Her fox-like eyes darted around the room to search for inspiration that wasn’t there.

[Hey, got home safe.]

She wrinkled her nose immediately.

“Ugh, no. Too basic.”

She plopped back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answers to life’s biggest mysteries.

“Wait… No, no—what am I doing? That’s like… date behavior.”

She sat up straight, shaking her head aggressively.

“That’d be weird. Like, super weird.”

A dramatic sigh escaped her lips as she flopped sideways on the bed, her tender cheek squished against the cool fabric. Her hand lazily held the phone, eyes still glued to that empty chat screen.

The silence mocked her.

Finally, she groaned, tossing the phone aside like it had personally offended her.

“Oh please…”

She muttered, dragging herself upright.

“There’s no point texting him.”

She stood, adjusting her towel to make sure it was snug around her tightly packaged breasts. With a determined huff, she turned to head toward the mini kitchen.

But—

Her feet froze mid-step.

She spun on her heel and rushed over to the small table in the corner, then pulled out the swivel chair with unnecessary force. She slid into the seat, fingers already flying across her laptop’s keyboard.

Click. Tap. Type.

She opened WeTube without hesitation and smashed the search bar:

[How to text a guy.]

The results loaded instantly.

At the top, bold and unavoidable:

[How to Text a Man and Remain Dominant — Bella Trevors Official Channel]

Vixen groaned and exasperatedly rolled her eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

“Oh, as if that would work.”

She crossed her bare legs, arms folding defensively over her breasts as she stared at the screen.

“Nah. My case is way different. Way more specific. Like, ultra-specific.”

She leaned back in the chair, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“It’s not like there’s an app or website that’s lasted for ages that could answer something this random…”

Fzzzt.

Her laptop screen flickered.

The glow dimmed, then went completely black for a heartbeat.

Vixen blinked.

“Uh…?”

Suddenly, the screen powered back on—this time, not to WeTube.

It was Threadit.

Vixen’s ears perked up instantly as she stood tall like an alert pup. Her fluffy tail gave an excited wag.

“Oh yeah!”

She grinned.

“Threadit has the answer to everything!”

She cracked her knuckles dramatically, then leaned in with recovered determination.

Fingers flying, she typed into the search bar:

[How do I text a guy I met at a plaza who’s handsome and honest, and we had some problems before but sorted it out, and we’re going out later tonight?]

She paused.

Stared at her overly detailed query.

“… No way they’ll have anything on this…”

She shook her head.

“But… worth a shot, I guess.”

She hit Enter.

The screen loaded.

Vixen’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

The exact same question appeared. Word for word.

Her chair jerked back with a loud squeak as she yelped—

“HOLY SHIT!”

She scooted back in, face inches from the screen.

“Is this… for real?”

The post was dated—

16 years ago.

Posted by: [Deleted User]

Her heart raced with a weird, giddy excitement as her ears twitched uncontrollably, tail wagging like crazy.

She glanced back at her phone lying on the bed, then back at the glowing screen.

Cracking her knuckles again, she leaned forward as her pretty eyes gleamed with curiosity.

“Alright, mystery Threadit post… show me what you got.”

She started scrolling.

･･･

[t/relationship_advice]

[Title: How Do I Text a Guy I Met at a Plaza Who’s Handsome, Honest, We Had Problems, Sorted Them, and Now We’re Going Out Tonight?]

Hey Threadit…

So here’s the situation:

I met this guy at a plaza. Yes, an actual plaza. Not a club, not a dating app, but a literal open space where pigeons probably judge you from statues.

He’s handsome (like, distractingly so) and honest (which feels like finding a unicorn these days).

We had some “issues”—nothing dramatic like “he’s secretly a vampire” or “he thinks pineapple belongs on pizza” (although, debatable). But we sorted them out like mature adults, with actual conversations, emotional vulnerability, and possibly passive-aggressive discussion sprinkled in.

Now here’s the catch:

We’re going out tonight. Yes, tonight. As in, hours from now. And I want to text him. But not just any text—I want that perfectly balanced message that says:

• I’m chill, not overthinking this (even though I obviously am because here I am on Reddit).

• I’m excited to see you, but not “stage-5 clinger” excited.

• I’m witty, but not trying too hard, like those people who put “sapiosexual” in their Tinder bio.

• Casually flirty, but not the type that would make a Victorian ghost faint from scandal.

So… what do I even say?

“Hey, can’t wait to see you tonight!” feels too generic.

“Looking forward to our date, hope you’re as excited as I am!” sounds like I’m applying for a job interview.

“Sup?” is the texting equivalent of showing up to a wedding in sweatpants.

I’ve rewritten the message about 17 times.

One draft just said, “banana,” and I stared at it for five minutes like it was profound.

Threadit, help.

How do I text this guy without sounding like I’ve been overanalyzing this for the past 45 minutes (which, again, I absolutely have)?

TL;DR: Met a handsome, honest guy at a plaza. We had issues, sorted them, going out tonight. I need help crafting the perfect casual-but-charming text without sounding like I drafted it with a PowerPoint presentation.

･･･

Top Comments:

[u/ExistentialAvocado] (15.4k upvotes):

“Banana” is bold. It transcends language. It’s minimalist. It says, “I’m confident enough to send you a random fruit and trust that you’ll find it endearing.” Honestly, I’d respond to that.

–

[u/Sentient_CoffeeMug] (9.2k upvotes):

The key is to send something that matches the vibe you had when you sorted things out. Were you both laughing? Go light-hearted. Were things deep and emotional? Add a thoughtful touch. For example:

“Hey, just realized I’m actually looking forward to tonight more than I expected. Hope you’re ready to argue about who’s paying for coffee.”

It’s casual, flirty, and sets up playful banter. Boom.

–

[u/ProbablyAnAlien] (7.1k upvotes):

If you really want to be subtle, send:

“Are we meeting at 7 or did we decide on 7:30? Asking for a friend who’s definitely not excited about this date.”

It’s logistical and sneakily flirty. A win-win.

–

[u/EmotionalSupportLlama] (5.5k upvotes):

Text him:

“Hey, just checking if you’re still on for tonight, because if not, I’ll be forced to spend the evening questioning my life choices with my cat.”

It shows you have a sense of humor and a backup plan (even if your cat is an unwilling participant).

–

[u/MrSpaghettiLogic] (4.2k upvotes):

Honestly, overthinking texts is a universal experience. Somewhere out there, he’s probably staring at his phone wondering if he should add an emoji or if that’s too much.

–

[u/Unstable_WiFi] (3.9k upvotes):

I once sent “hey I hope you don’t get abducted by aliens before our date” as a joke, and now I’m married to that person. Sometimes weird works.

･･･

Vixen’s eyes darted over the Threadit post, devouring every word like her life depended on it.

Her expression shifted from curiosity to intrigue to—wait—was that enlightenment?

She shot up from her chair so fast it spun around twice behind her.

“YES!”

She pumped her fists into the air with a triumphant grin plastered on her face.

“I know what to text him!”

Without missing a beat, she dashed toward her bed, leaping onto the mattress like it owed her money. She snatched up her phone with the grace of a caffeinated squirrel as her fingers flying over the screen as she typed furiously—pure instinct, no overthinking.

Send.

She stared at the screen and her chest heaved slightly from excitement.

And then—she read what she’d just sent.

[Just by looking at me, what do you think the color of my main hole is? #FFC0CB or #FFDFDD?]

Vixen’s soul left her body.

Her mouth dropped open in absolute horror, a gasp so dramatic it could’ve been nominated for an award. She looked like she’d just witnessed the apocalypse through a keyhole.

“Oh… OH NO—NO, NO, NO!”

She fumbled with her phone like it was suddenly covered in butter, her thumbs slamming every wrong button imaginable.

“DELETE! DELETE, YOU STUPID THING!”

After what felt like an eternity (three seconds), she finally managed to delete the cursed message.

Collapsing backward onto the bed, she clutched her chest, gasping for breath like she’d just run a marathon in heels.

Her wide, panicked eyes stared blankly at the ceiling as her arms flopped dramatically over her head.

“Who the fuck starts a conversation like that?!”

She groaned into the air, her voice dripping with regret.

“I read everything in that stupid Threadit post, and all I could write was that? Of all the advice—I picked the one from SleazyPen69? Curse that son of a bitch!”

She rolled over, face smashed into her pillow, letting out a muffled scream of despair.

Eventually, she peeked back at her phone.

The empty chat stared back at her like a scarlet letter.

The faint, gray text [You deleted a message] sat there, mocking her, immortalizing her shame.

Vixen let out a heavy sigh, defeated.

She dropped her head again, her fluffy fox ears twitching and perking up as if refusing to acknowledge defeat, even if she felt like a puddle of embarrassment.

“Since when did I start acting so… stupid?”

She groaned, then lifted the phone once more, staring at the cursed empty chat.

“That’s the weirdest shit I’ve ever thought of texting someone.”

Now she had to cover her tracks.

She started typing:

[🍌]

She blinked at the banana emoji.

“… What the hell is wrong with me?”

Delete.

New message.

[Uhm, I was wondering if you’re still on for the patrol later tonight?]

She stared at it.

Then shook her head.

“No. Adding ‘uhm’ makes me look shy. And the rest makes me sound way too excited… even if I am.”

She deleted it.

“Focus, Vixen. Something casual.”

She started again:

[So, I was thinking of bringing some snacks since it might be a really long night? Like a snack bar or something?]

She paused. Squinted. Then groaned.

“No, no, no—that’s equally stupid.”

Her face hit the pillow again with a dramatic flop, phone dangling from her hand as her tail flicked with frustration.

━ ━ ━ ━

Meanwhile, at Mantis Tower…

An elevator descended to the 45th floor.

Scott leaned against the polished steel wall, hands casually in his pockets as his face spelled boredom as he glanced down at his phone.

And there it was.

Not just the deleted message.

But every message Vixen had typed out—and then canceled.

Scott blinked once.

Then twice.

And then—he chuckled.

A low, amused sound that grew into a full-blown laugh as he shook his head.

“Heh… I can’t believe she actually went to Threadit for advice.”

He scrolled through her failed attempts, smirking at every edit, every deleted word, every little panic-induced rewrite.

“Not wrong, I guess…”

He muttered, chuckling again.

“But at least pick the right advice, Vixen. It’s not always the post with the most upvotes that’s the winner…”

His finger hovered over the screen, re-reading the message from SleazyPen69—the infamous color question.

“And even then, you went with that guy’s advice?”

He shook his head, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“How silly can one get? Pfft—haha!”

With a small, amused sigh, he typed back without hesitation:

[Hey there, beautiful ❤️]

He locked his phone and slipped it into his coat pocket, then adjusted the collar of his sleek, black trench coat as the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding.

Stepping out onto the bustling event floor, he chuckled under his breath.

“I’ll have to explain that to Emma and Gwen later… but that should keep her in shock for a few hours.”

With that, he disappeared into the crowd.

Next target: Bella Trevors.