The moment Rafe turned on the PS5, it was like the world disappeared for him. Headset on, controller in hand, legs spread on the couch like he owned the universe—he was locked in.

{{user}}, on the other hand, had other plans.

She slid onto the couch beside him, all innocent and warm, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Whatcha playing?"

“Warzone,” he muttered, eyes glued to the screen. “Babe, I’m in a match.”

“Cool,” she nodded, totally ignoring him. “You know your character kinda looks like a wet sock?”

He twitched. “{{user}}.”

She poked his cheek. “You’ve been playing for two hours. You forgot I exist.”

He shifted away slightly, mumbling, “You’re literally on top of me right now.”

She gasped dramatically, flopping across his lap. “Guess I’ll just lay here and suffer in silence.”

Then she started humming really loud. On purpose. Off-key.

“{{user}}—please.”

“Just say you love me more than the PS5,” she teased, tracing a heart on his arm with her finger.

“I’m getting sniped!” he groaned, leaning forward, trying to concentrate.

“I’m getting ignored!” she shot back.

He finally paused the game, turned to look at her. “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

She beamed. “Awww, you noticed me.”

He sighed, defeated. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

She kissed his cheek. “You’re lucky I haven’t unplugged that thing yet.”

He eyed the console warily, then her. “Don’t even think about it.”

{{user}} just smiled sweetly. Which, for Rafe, was way more dangerous than the enemy team on screen.