Lazy Sunday Gaming
Content: 639 words, Copia x gn!reader, soft and sleepy gaming session with Copia, cuddling and snuggling, short and sweet, I wrote this on my phone on a sunday morning when i was half asleep please enjoy <3
“Merda…”
Copia’s whispered, breathy swear pulls you from the cloud you’ve been floating on this morning as you feel his chest dip. His thumping heart, which has been lulling you into a peaceful half-slumber on this lazy Sunday morning, has picked up a little.
“Dead again?” You mutter, narrowly opening one eye to see that he has indeed died again.
Copia makes a soft, irritated noise and shifts his left arm, which has been curved loosely around you, so he can still hold the controller to the console.
The two of you had woken up early that morning, which on a Sunday, waking up any time before nine am might as well be considered a sin. You’d gotten about as far as coffee in bed before ending up back in Copia’s loving embrace.
“It’s… this is impossible, amore,” he mutters, hitting the reload button and feeling the way the huff he lets out sounds with your ear to his breast.
“I did warn you the first time you see the T-rex it’ll scare the shit out of you,” you mumbles, smiling to yourself. “It got me the first time. The music makes the reveal too, you know?”
“Sì, you did say. I should understand what you meant. I’m sorry if I woke you,” Copia presses an apologetic kiss to the top of your head.
You giggle at that. He’d put on a brave face for it the first time the music started to kick in, but you know your Copia. Your soft, sensitive Copia. His voice sounds thick in his chest, his accent is more prominent when he's not fully switched on or used to speaking too much. You adore him and these private moments when it's just the two of you; when he’s just Copia and not Papa.
The two of you readjust, rewinding your limbs together while you climb higher up his right side. You climb a bare thigh around him, humming at the sensation of the cotton burgundy sweats he favours, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. He’d showered before making you both coffee, but the pleasant musk of sleep hadn’t quite left him yet. He always smells heavenly, dare you say, even delectable. Who needs breakfast when you have him?
You start moving your fingers beneath his shirt again, scraping your nails lightly across the pudge of his belly and through the curls of hair that cover his soft skin. Copia hums, his belly twitching at your touch.
“How did you play this when you were so young?” He asks and you close your eyes again when he strokes a hand through your hair while the game reloads. His bare fingers and nails graze across your tender scalp, sending warm tingles down your spine. This is bliss.
“I mean… I was five so I died a lot, if that helps. Tomb Raider is a classic, I’m surprised you’ve not played it.” When Copia makes one of his usual noises, the kind of sound when he doesn’t know what else to say, you can’t help but chuckle.
You open your eyes again, tipping your chin up until your noise is nuzzled into the side of his jaw. You press a kiss to the curve of his jaw and he sighs, swapping hands so he can reach up and stroke your cheek.
“You got this baby,” you mumble encouragingly. “Remember, the Raptors and Rex aren’t real and they can't hurt you.”
You splay your hand up higher beneath his shirt, dipping into the valleys of his chest. Copia chuckles, kisses your forehead and you feel his focus locking in on the game once more. His drive is always something you admire, his grit and determination, even in the face of something that unnerves him.
These are Sundays you love. With Copia and the Rex, too.
masterlist ⛧ Ao3
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For if I ever write the "Finrod & Beren maybe-not-exactly-canonically reuniting in Mandos for a while" fanfic — Finrod's actual farewell before Beren is reembodied:
"I cannot promise you that I will meet you again. But I want to. And it's not impossible, or—" his voice lowered into a whisper, "—Even improbable. So till then, my brother in arms, cousin by marriage, kinsman — by every right and law."
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