guh_santi

1k words, fluff....meme...

Your hands trailed through soft blonde tufts of hair, caressing the strands between your fingers as you sat on your boyfriend’s lap and played with his hair. He was focused on the screen in front of him, your soft actions not having any effect on him as his fingers moved over the buttons on the controller he currently used. He’d been playing for a while now, fully immersed in whatever rpg he had set his sights on beating this month. You didn’t know what this one was called, only that it had a lot of puzzle-like elements. An adventure game, you think.

You hummed, getting his attention. “Yes?” He practically mumbled the word back to you, eyes still focused on his current addiction. “Are you almost done?” You pressed yourself closer to him, twirling another one of his hair strands in your hand again, pulling a bit, gently—only to get more of his attention. “Not yet. Why?” A pause. “I miss you.” You can hear the small smile in his voice as he replies, saying, “You’re on top of me, aren’t you? I’m right here.” His fingers never slow, the sound of him punching buttons still ringing in the air. You sigh. “Not really.”

“Then where am I, huh?” He lets out a small breathy laugh, almost as if he believes that he’s just playing along with you, for now. Like how one would indulge a small child when listening to their odd stories that never seem to have an ending. “In the game. Jerk.” Your words don’t phase him, only causing him to laugh again, nothing more. “Pay attention to me.” A simple request. “Why should I?” You knew he was joking around with you, but that didn’t make you any less annoyed. “I’m better than your stupid game.” He pretends to think about it, his eyes still trained on the screen. “Really? How so?”

You sigh, wondering how long this would last. Would he mess with you all night? “I have tits, for one.” He snorts, sparing you a glance. “Yeah? So does Atlantis.” “...The fucking city…?” He shakes his head, apparently amused. “Look.” You do, turning around to see a female character doing an idle animation on screen as their dialogue box appears. “She’s hot,” you say. He nods, agreeing with you. You both pause in contemplation. “She’s got tits,” he counters. You nod, noting that she does, indeed, have tits.

“What’s the second reason?” You pause. “I feed you.” “You buy me chips.” “Yeah. Same thing.” He nods, pretending to consider your reasoning, as if it’ll mean anything. “Any other reasons?” “...I get to sit in your lap while Atlantis has to stand on the other side of a screen with her stupid huge 2D pixel tits.” You feel his chest vibrate as he holds back laughter at your passive aggressive comment. “You know, the game I haunted for years was in pixels…” You nod, pretending to take him seriously. You’re pretty sure the game he haunted (though he rarely spoke about the topic) wasn’t done in pixel art. “I see. So you’re going back to your roots. That’s what you’re into then?” He almost drops the controller, holding back laughter.

“Mhm. Absolutely.” You pull back, forcing him to look at you for a few seconds as you wear a serious and solemn expression. “So mine will never be good enough for you then?” You turn your head to stare off into the distance longingly, as if you’ve lost a lover to some sort of tragic turn of events. Maybe this sort of situation would qualify. “I wouldn’t say that,” he mumbled, his attention now solely on his game once again. You sigh—again, thinking about how you almost pulled him away from the game. False hope, perhaps. You press your face into the crook of his neck, wriggling yourself into his body as if you weren’t already squished up against him like glue. He huffs, smiling, moving his shoulders around to get rid of the ticklish feeling you forced onto him, trying to ignore you and focus on his ingame task.

“Ben.” He hums as a response, questioning you. “Are my chips not good enough? Is that what this is? Is it the brand? The flavor I buy? Maybe the store I get them from?” You can feel him stifle a laugh at your wild and baseless accusations. He knew you were joking around with him, and he admired your ability to say stuff like that with a straight face and flat voice. “Yeah. Stop going to the drugstore down the street. I hate the cashier.” “Which one? And why?” You eye him warily, wondering where he was taking this joke. “All of them. Tits aren’t pixelated enough—makes my chips taste bad.” You look over to see him clench his jaw shut, so obviously trying not to laugh at his own lame joke. His lips curled upwards against his own will, and his stifled laughter almost makes you laugh as well.

“You should just have Atlantis supply your chips then. Then you won’t need me.” He pretends to consider your point, fingers finally still on the controller, all the previous movement ceased as if he'd forgotten what he was in the middle of. “And what happens when I beat this game and no longer have any need for Atlantis?” You purse your lips, eyeing the couch you were both seated on. What kind of question was that? It didn’t even make any sense. How were you supposed to answer? “Are you going to pay attention to me now?” He’s the one to sigh this time around, finally setting down his controller and giving you his undivided attention.

“Ugh, fine. I guess you are my little pogchamp. Come here.” His arms wrap around me, squeezing me against him tightly. I soften in his arms, relishing in all the warmth I’ve finally gotten to feel after hours of being practically ignored. This is soft.

Glimpses IV 🕯️

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