#and I wrote it backwards | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starlightkun · 1 year ago

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➠ word count: 4.5k ➠ warnings: cursing, suggestive (no smut but they’re in love and horny lol) ➠ genre: fluff, established relationship, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), shortfic in the buzzer beater series (comes after saltwater smiles), some minor angst again but it’s about like growing up and being a human and finding your place and purpose as an adult, not between our couple or anything ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ series masterlist

“It feels like I can’t ever move on from this. From being Sungchan the hockey captain. I know you were just joking when you said it but—I don’t want to actually be that guy that peaked in college.”

“Yo, tell them about the championships against the Sharks, Sungchan!” Your colleague, Seunghan, insisted, pushing on your fiancé’s shoulder with his hand that held a drink.

Sungchan looked down at his feet for a moment, and you caught a quick flash of hesitation on his features before he looked back up at the group of enthralled people and gave a lighthearted chuckle and charismatic smile. “I’ve already told that story tonight, I’m sure everyone here doesn’t want to hear it again. Besides, don’t you all want to hear about Y/N’s paper?”

You two were at a rather ritzy gathering being thrown by your department celebrating that one of your articles had been chosen for publication in a huge literary theory journal.

“Anton wasn’t here when you told it earlier!” Seunghan shook a grad student instructor in your department. “And we’ve all read her paper like a hundred times before it got published.”

You reached up to squeeze Sungchan’s arm through his suit jacket. “It’s okay, Channie. I want to hear about it. That was championships your junior year, right? I wasn’t there, remember?”

He focused his gaze down on you for another second as if making extra sure, and you nodded and gave him a smile for good measure. He sighed, wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and began the story, much to all your colleagues’ delight.

A little later in the night found you by the drinks table with Ten. When you had moved back to your old college town to accept a position with the Literature department, you hadn’t expected to walk in on your first day and see a familiar face. Sure, you knew you’d be seeing Dr. Son, who was the department head now and had conducted your interview, and several of your old professors, but you’d been keeping up with most of your old schoolmates and as far as you knew, Ten had moved away after you two finished your two-year master’s program and remained there.

Ten swirled his cocktail around his glass before taking a sip, his eyes trained on your fiancé, who was still surrounded. “Why do I never get that treatment?”

“Maybe you should’ve been captain,” you snickered, taking another sip of your soda.

“Too much work.” Your friend wrinkled his nose. “So what is your man doing these days anyway? He get that PhD in molecular biology about fish or whatever?”

“Yep, he’s a whole doctor,” you told your coworker, looking over at your guy with pride. “Defended his thesis last spring, we did a short stint abroad for about a year for him to study some rare fish in the tropics to cure a rare blood disease. I enjoyed all the food and the sun, really. He probably got skin cancer. And now we’re back here. He’s actually doing his post-doc research here, too.”

“He’s curing blood diseases in tropical fish?”

“No, sorry, in people,” you covered your mouth as you laughed. “Somehow, the fish could help cure a human blood disease, I’m not sure about anything past that.”

“And you’ve got a fat rock on your finger,” he teased, grabbing your hand to inspect your engagement ring. “What a power couple.”

You giggled, letting him look over the ring. “Yeah, something like that. He proposed when we were abroad. God, it was the most gorgeous sunset. Just us, nice and quiet.”

“I’m invited to the wedding, right?”

“Duh. We just haven’t sent invites yet, bitch.” You pushed him with your foot, rolling your eyes. “It’s going to be a certified frat party, I’m afraid.”

“Kegger?” Ten grinned.

“I’m enlisting Taeyong and Kun to keep all you menaces in check for me.”

“Well yeah, you can’t trust your Chenle-of-Honor to do that, he’ll be the first up to do a kegstand.”

You laughed heartily at that. “A few years ago, probably. But I’m happy to report my man-shaped best friend has grown into a real adult.”

“Really? What’s the little monster doing?”

“Middle management in advertising at a designer company. He’s got his eye on a promotion soon, though. Oh, and he’s got the cutest little dog.”

“Speaking of little monsters…” Ten trailed off, eyeing your drink, then your abdomen. “No alcohol?”

“I can’t drink on my medication, remember?” You shook the ice around in your glass smugly.

“Damn!”

As you rode home with Sungchan, your hands entwined over the console, you looked out the passenger window with contentment in your chest.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he sighed, stroking a thumb over the backs of your fingers.

“For what?” You turned to look at him curiously.

His features were pensive and regretful as he focused on the road in front of him, one hand on the steering wheel. “For being a distraction all night. Everybody was asking me about hockey the whole time when all the focus should’ve been on you and your awesome article. I’m sorry, I'll completely understand if you just leave me at home next time.”

“Channie, why the hell would I do that?” You asked through incredulous chuckles, turning to hold his hand with two hands. “Celebrating my accomplishments would mean nothing if I didn’t have you there with me.”

“But I just—”

“Admittedly, I didn’t expect there to be so many puckheads in the Lang department,” you shrugged. “But I know where we work, and you are a bit of a hometown celebrity around here, baby.”

“That sounds like something you’d call somebody who peaked in high school.”

“Right, my bad. You peaked in college.”

“Rude.” He knocked your elbow with his, making you laugh.

“I’m kidding, handsome. But I am proud of you. I snagged a good guy, and I am not going to hide you away when I go to these events just because people are going to ask about your hockey career.”

“It’s not fair to you.”

“I appreciate you trying to put the focus back on me tonight, I really do.” You squeezed his hand. “But when Seunghan said everybody in the department had read my article hundreds of times, he meant it. They all helped proof and revise it dozens of times each. I was tired of reading it by the time it was accepted if I’m being honest with you. Hearing about your hockey game was a welcome reprieve from thinking about the body as a critical site for sex, gender, and political ideology in M. Butterfly.”

“Do you mean that or are you trying to make me feel less like a dick?”

“I mean it, baby boy.” You pinched his cheek.

He squirmed in his seat as he slowed to a stop at a red light. “You never call me that anymore…”

“Seems like you needed it.”

“Hey,” he said softly, turning his head to look at you. “I love you.”

“I know.” You cupped his cheek, stroking his cheekbone fondly. “I never doubted that for a second, baby.”

Sungchan leaned across the console to press his lips to yours, cradling the back of your head. You hummed delightedly into the kiss, moving your mouth against his sweetly.

When you felt the car suddenly roll forward, you jerked back, gripping his arm with a yelp. “Channie!”

He was already grabbing the steering wheel with two hands and slamming on the brakes again. “Fuck! Sorry!”

The car had moved forward less than half a meter and you were the only car at the intersection, but it was enough to get your heart racing.

“Are you okay, baby?” Sungchan checked on you with wide eyes, keeping one hand on the wheel as he reached his other hand over to grab your knee.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You put your hand over his to reassure both of you. The light turned green then. “Let’s just uh, get home in one piece, hm?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He patted your thigh, leaving his hand there as he slowly started the car forward again.

“Channie?” You called out into the house, shrugging off your coat. You’d stayed a bit late to grade papers, and while Sungchan would’ve usually stayed to walk home with you, he had wanted to get a head start on cooking dinner.

“Pantry!” He yelled back, voice distant as he was presumably deep in the walk-in pantry.

You continued shuffling through the mail you’d grabbed on your way in as you walked further into your house, tossing the junk mail in the trash as you fished out the one packet that had caught your attention. Stopping at the doorway to the pantry, you tore open the thick packet. Skimming the letter and investigating the two lanyards inside, you informed your fiancé, “Donghyuck’s team is having a preseason scrimmage at the university, and he sent us VIP passes.”

Sungchan stuck his head back out of the pantry. “So that’s why he asked for our address the other day.”

“When did you talk to Hyuck?” You asked as he gently took the letter and lanyards from your hands.

“He called me out of the blue a couple weeks ago. I was at the gym before work and completely forgot by the time I got home, sorry, baby.” He flipped over the passes hanging from the lanyards, bright green and dark black, the colors of the professional hockey team that Donghyuck had gone on to play for after college. “I thought he was going to crash on our couch or something, not this.”

“He’s a pro hockey player making like millions a year and you thought he was going to ask to couch surf?”

“You think he wouldn’t?”

“Good point,” you chuckled. “So how was he? Sound like he was doing well?”

“You said it yourself, he’s a pro hockey player making millions a year. I’m sure he’s doing great.”

You frowned up at him. “You didn’t ask?”

“It was a quick conversation, he’s busy,” Sungchan shrugged and handed everything back to you, disappearing into the pantry again. “We barely had time to say hello.”

“We should go,” you declared, setting the lanyards down in a spot so you two wouldn’t lose them.

“Baby, it’s a Friday. That’s our date night.”

“We can miss one date night for this, Channie,” you scoffed. “Besides, I’ve never heard of Jung Sungchan not wanting to go see a hockey game. Are you sure you’re my Sungchannie? Were you replaced by an alien or something?”

Sungchan kept his back to you as he started chopping vegetables. “Never mind, you’re right. We should go.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but didn’t push the issue further. “Alright...”

Sat back down in familiar bleachers, you hugged Sungchan’s arm tightly, buzzing with excitement. As much as you had loved watching Sungchan play hockey when you were younger, there was something special about watching it with him, having him explain plays, tell you if a player made the right call, or how he would have done it if he had been captain. Being able to see the sparkle in his eye up close as he watched one of his favorite things. You’d seen it plenty of times in the years that you stayed local while he got his PhD. Which is how you knew that something was wrong now, even as he tried to flash a smile at you every so often, ones that never reached his eyes. He didn’t join in the cheers very enthusiastically, and never engaged when the other guys around him tried to debate calls that the refs made.

You found out that the whole team from your senior year had been invited as well, though some of them couldn’t make it. So it was you, Sungchan, Mark, Ten, Jeno, and Chenle in the VIP section. Yangyang was staying abroad with his parents, while Sicheng was at a seminar for work. Chenle was of course invited as an honorary member of the team, fresh off a plane from Paris with that promotion in his pocket.

Donghyuck was Good. He had been great when he was on the Raptors, obviously, which was how he had gotten scouted to go pro, but now he was great. And this was just a preseason scrimmage, just him messing around. You were sure he was scary good when he was actually trying at their real games. He’d kept his old number from college, 66, and seemed to have his own legion of fans with posters and signs.

When the game was finally over—and Donghyuck’s team won—a representative from the team corralled everyone with the VIP lanyards and directed you towards a different area while the rest of the stands filtered out. You kept your hold on Sungchan’s hand as you waited in what you were pretty sure was the women’s locker room for your old friend.

Finally, Donghyuck ran in, and everyone immediately swarmed him, hooting and hollering, slapping him on the back, ruffling his hair, and making teasing remarks about being a big shot now.

“Mark!” Donghyuck threw his arms around his old Big’s neck, nearly knocking his friend over.

“Christ, dude,” Mark wheezed, stumbling back a couple steps. “Are you still wearing your gear or something?”

“Did you not keep up with our lifting regiment?” Donghyuck shamelessly felt up Mark’s arms, then gasped dramatically. “Am I the Big now?”

Mark swatted his hands away. “If you want to pay for all my beer and drive me around in your Lamborghini or whatever, sure.”

“Deal!” The pro player grinned, then turned to the next person, who happened to be you. “Y/N!”

“Hyuck!” You beamed, opening your arms wide for him to throw himself at you as well, only staying up since Sungchan was right behind you to catch you. “Hey, there! God, I can’t believe it! You killed it out there!”

“Thanks!” He let go of you with one arm to wrap it around Sungchan’s neck, pulling him into the hug with both of you. “Oh, it makes me so happy that you two are still together! Are you engaged? Married? Kids? I didn’t have time to ask Sungchan when I called the other week, I was heading into an interview.”

You leaned back as much as he would let you, just enough to show off your ring. “He proposed last year. We’re— eugh!”

You were cut off by Donghyuck tugging you two against him into a tight embrace again. You gave him a pat on the back as you continued, slightly choked with your throat pressed against his shoulder. “We’re looking at a spring wedding…”

“I love you guys so much…” Donghyuck sighed. “All of you. I hope you know that hasn’t changed.”

“We know that, Hyuck.” You coughed, rubbing his back. “Make sure we have your address so we can send you an invite, okay?”

“What did I tell you, Y/N? In undergrad?”

“You told me a lot.” You laughed as he finally let you and Sungchan go. “Some stuff you probably don’t want me to repeat right now.”

“I said you guys were soulmates. I knew you were gonna get married. I knew it.”

“Oh yeah, you did.” You squeezed his hand that he still had a grip on. “Hey, when you retire from pro hockey, you can be a fortune teller.”

“Don’t joke about that, I’m the star player, haven’t you heard?” Donghyuck was practically puffing out his chest. “I’m years off from retirement!”

Sungchan grabbed him by the scruff then, teasingly mussing up his hair. “What did we always tell you about bragging?”

Ten, Jeno, and Mark eagerly joined in on giving him a killer noogie, the four of them managing to keep him in place despite Hyuck being the only one who had remained a professional athlete.

“Ack!” Donghyuck complained as he was surrounded. “Y/N! Chenle! Somebody, help!”

“Promise you’ll buy us dinner with your star player money,” Chenle crossed his arms over his chest as he watched on, “and maybe Y/N and I will convince them to leave you alone.”

“Yeah!” Jeno agreed. “Dinner and drinks and we’ll consider!”

“This is extortion!” Donghyuck yelped.

“Glad to see some things don’t change…” You sighed, shaking your head. “You guys still pick on him.”

“He needs an ego check,” Jeno snorted, his arm now around Donghyuck’s neck.

“I was going to take you all out to dinner anyway!” Donghyuck pleaded. “Didn’t you people read the letters?”

“It was in the letter, guys,” you confirmed loudly.

The guys all looked at each other, slowly releasing their holds on the youngest. With sweet, proud smiles, they fixed his hair and straightened his branded hoodie back up, smacking his shoulder and patting his cheek between compliments of how well he played and specific moves he did, giving feedback on certain things he could improve on still. Donghyuck rolled his eyes at the constructive criticism, but you could see him struggling to suppress the fond curl of his lip at being surrounded by his old teammates again.

When you finally got home that night, you felt about ready to collapse into bed. You had a tired, happy smile on your face from seeing all your old friends again, and haphazardly tossed your go bag to the side before stepping out of your shoes. Sungchan didn’t follow you into the bedroom, as you had expected. You heard him detour to the kitchen, and your ears perked up with interest as you changed into your pajamas.

Sungchan didn’t just get a glass of water, though. You heard him rooting around in the snacks, and that’s when you got concerned. You had just eaten dinner and had drinks, and he had plenty of bar snacks as you all hung around and caught up after finishing dinner. He shouldn’t be scrounging for a midnight snack already.

After tossing your dirty clothes in the hamper, you ventured out to the kitchen determinedly. Sungchan hadn’t yet found something to eat, a frustrated pout on his face as he pulled out box after box, but didn’t open any.

“Hungry?” You asked curiously, leaning against the fridge.

“No,” he sighed, setting the container of crackers down loudly then rubbing his face harshly.

You held your hand out towards him, and he took it immediately. You led him back through your house by the hand, into your bathroom and let go there. Walking back out through the house, you grabbed his desk chair from your joint home office, and pulled it into the bathroom. He was standing exactly where you left him, and let you wordlessly push him down by the shoulders to sit in the chair. Washing and drying your hands, you then readjusted the chair, making sure he was exactly where you needed him. Then you climbed onto his lap facing him, the two of you perpendicular to your bathroom vanity. You grabbed a fuzzy character headband from one of your drawers and put it on him, pushing his hair back from his face.

“I—”

“Shh.” You stopped him as soon as he opened his mouth, putting your own headband on.

Next, you grabbed your cleanser.

“What—”

“Shh,” you repeated with more emphasis, holding his eye contact firmly, until he gave up and closed his mouth, letting his head fall back against the head rest.

You meticulously went through your whole extended skincare routine, doing each step first on Sungchan, then on yourself. He finally gave up on trying to talk, then finally relaxed, then really relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut and a pleased hum rising in the back of his throat.

“All done, handsome,” you announced at the end, giving his cheeks a final squish between your hands, then pulling off his headband and fluffing up his hair.

Sungchan slowly opened his eyes, reaching up to take your headband off as well.

You smiled down at him. “How are you feeling, Channie?”

“Better, thank you, baby,” he replied quietly.

“You want to talk about it?”

He couldn’t look you in the eye. “About what?”

“Whatever’s been getting you bummed lately. You weren’t all there tonight, I could tell. And the day we got the passes, you didn’t even want to come in the first place. That’s not like you.” You put both your headbands aside on the counter, then stood up off him. “You get changed into your pajamas, I’ll tidy up in here. We’ll talk in a few minutes, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded, getting up and grabbing the chair to drag back with him.

You wiped down the bathroom counter and tidied up all your bottles and containers, listening to the sounds of Sungchan getting ready in the next room over. When you walked back into your bedroom, you were thrown for a loop as you couldn’t see your fiancé for a moment. You found him in your living room, sitting on your couch and holding a picture frame that usually lived on one of the end tables.

Sitting down beside him, you looked at the picture with him. It was of you two at his last collegiate hockey game, him still in his uniform as he picked you up and spun you around, bright smiles on both your faces. His face now was brooding, jaw clenched and eyes hard as he continued staring at it.

“You got me that for our first anniversary,” you commented softly. “I love that picture.”

“I do too,” he sighed, though his tone was much more bitter than his words.

“Talk to me, Channie,” you murmured. “What’s going on?”

“It feels like I can’t ever move on from this.” He shook the frame. “From being Sungchan the hockey captain. I know you were just joking when you said it but—I don’t want to actually be that guy that peaked in college.”

“Oh, Channie...” you breathed out, draping an arm across his back and leaning your cheek against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize...”

“It’s not you, baby,” he assured you, squeezing your knee. “It’s everything else. Like I try to do anything else, be anything else, but I’m just dragged back into that stupid jock box again.”

“Well, what do you want to be?” You asked as you sat back up, rubbing up and down the center of his chest soothingly. “Not what you think other people want you to be, or what you think you should be. What do you actually like? What do you want to do? Do you still like hockey? Outside of everybody’s opinions about you liking hockey? It’s okay either way, for you to still like it or not. It was the biggest thing in your life for like twenty years, baby. It’d be ridiculous to expect you to just suddenly not like it as soon as you graduated.”

“Do you really want a husband that just talks about sports all the time while you’re talking about smart stuff?” He sighed, letting his eyes close as he leaned all of his weight against you, his hands dropping to rest the frame in his lap.

“I want a husband that’s you. That’s why I accepted your proposal and not like, Dr. Yoon’s or something.”

“I’m going to assume you’re being hyperbolic to make a point and that my research head didn’t actually propose to you. Because if not, then I’m going to stop pouting and write my letter of resignation right now.”

“I’m trying to make a point here.”

“Which is?”

“You’re really underselling yourself, Channie.” You encouraged him to lay his head in the crook of your neck, not letting up your movements on his sternum. “You’re plenty smart. We’ve been together for almost seven years and I still couldn’t keep track of a hockey game if a gun was to my head. Meanwhile you were a whole captain. You had to make decisions on your feet—or, your skates. Not to mention, hm, oh yeah, you have a PhD in molecular biology. Did you forget about that? Doctor Jung?”

“Oh yeah,” he mumbled into your collarbone.

“Oh yeah,” you mimicked him lovingly. “I nearly flunked my bio for non-majors course my freshman year, you know.”

“What?” He squinted up at you. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You knew I was a Bio major, you should’ve asked me for help.”

“I kick myself every day for it,” you replied melodramatically, and finally saw a smile tug at the corner of his lips. “So? Do you think you still like hockey or not?”

He let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I do. I really do.”

“Good. I’m glad.” You kissed the top of his head. “I want you to do stuff that makes you happy.”

“Coach came and found me at the lab last week... the day we got the VIP passes from Donghyuck. He’s looking for a part-time assistant coach, said I was his first pick,” Sungchan admitted quietly.

“That’s why you were so... off that day, huh?”

“Yeah. It felt like I was handed a pamphlet for a retirement home.”

You chuckled as he reached forward to set the picture down on the coffee table, then grabbed your hand that was on his chest. He looked up at you with heartachingly familiar, big, round doe eyes, ones that hadn’t changed in the ten years since you’d first met.

“I told him no but... I’m thinking maybe I should ask if he’s found someone else yet?”

“I think that’s a great idea, baby.” You pecked his forehead. “Coach Jung… I think I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, a much different look in his eye as he sat up to his full height, towering over you.

“I don’t know, let me try it again.”

“Go ahead.”

“Coach Jung.” You reached for the back of his neck as he laid you down on your couch, hovering over you. “Yeah, it’s got a nice ring to it, huh? Powerful, sexy. I love a man with a whistle.”

“You’re so dorky,” he snickered, letting you pull his lips down to yours. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more, my Sungchannie.” You cradled his face with both of your hands.

“Lies.” He kissed your lips. “Impossible.” He kissed your neck.

“Says who?”

“Who has the whistle here?”

“You don’t have one yet,” you teased, holding your arms up for him to pull your shirt off. “Assistant Coach Jung.”

Sungchan kissed a trail down your front, stopping above your waistband. “You’re forgetting something, baby.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m a scientist, with a degree and everything, and I say it’s scientifically impossible for anybody to love anybody more than I love my girl.”

You made grabby hands at him, and he rose up from where he had settled between your legs, entirely blocking out the lights above you. You connected your mouths together again, wrapping your arms and legs around him so tightly he had no choice but to lay his entire weight on top of you.

“No fair,” you complained into his mouth. “I just told you I almost flunked Gen Ed bio.”

“You should’ve let me be your sexy tutor, then.” He didn’t sound sympathetic at all.

“Yeah, freshman you all sweaty and nervous in your hockey team hoodie.” You broke apart to giggle. “Real hot stuff, Channie. Literally.”

“You’re lucky you’re the love of my life, or I’d be really hurt at some of the stuff you say to me, you know.”

“You’re right.” You gave him a peck. “I am lucky that I’m the love of your life.”

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greenleaf4stuff · 5 months ago

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Of Convenience 10.4

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 10th snippet, part 4. As the dust settles, Adar and Celebrimbor finally have a heart to heart (and more).

Warnings major character death (though it's left a lil ambiguous) (none of the heroes!) as well as...gratuitous amounts of sappiness towards the end (and smooches!). A big Thank you again to everyone who has liked/commented/reblogged/written me messages. Your support means the world to me. Enjoy these two dorks finally having their moment – and remember, there’ll be a little epilogue after this part, so you don’t have to say goodbye to this AU just yet.

It took a long moment for the ringing in Celebrimbor’s ears to stop and until he felt aware of his own body again. A moment during which most of his senses deserted him, and the only thing that grounded him was Adar’s body wrapped around his own, gauntleted hand covering the smith’s head and bare hand clinging to his back, with Celebrimbor’s own hands clutching Adar’s shoulders.

Despite the loud noise, despite the wave of pressure that had pinned them to the ground, the only thing the elf could feel was safe.

After that, silence settled over the forge – imperfect, as Celebrimbor could hear another shelf crash onto the ground, doubtlessly spilling more books and scrolls everywhere. There was also the loud breathing of Adar in his ear, and the groans and grunts of his elven friends-

Celebrimbor lifted his head from where he’d hidden it in his husband’s shoulder in small increments, and blinked his eyes to clear them.

The forge came back into view slowly. It had taken even more damage from the recent explosion and seemed to be covered in a fine dusting of icy crystals, spreading outward from the point Sauron had been felled. The spot itself, however, was empty – safe for the dark iron sword which lay on the ground, broken into several large pieces.

Gil-Galad, Elrond and Galadriel had been thrown to the ground as well, each in a different direction. Whereas Gil-Galad was already struggling to sit up, Elrond was still spread out on his back, and Galadriel had merely propped herself up on an elbow.

With a new surge of worry, Celebrimbor quickly checked over Adar; the uruk himself was shaking his own head as if to dispel some dizziness, and had begun to move off of the elf. Apart from the cuts on his body, he appeared to be unharmed. Only now did Celebrimbor notice how heavy, yet comforting, Adar’s weight had felt on top of his own body.

The uruk sat back on his knees and helped Celebrimbor by pulling him up as well. Together, they slowly rose to their feet, both husbands supporting each other as they did. Despite the close proximity to one another, it seemed Adar was still more focused on the fate of the maia they had just fought – the elf couldn’t fault him. And gave the uruk a little nudge to go and check the place where Sauron had last stood.

Adar threw Celebrimbor a questioning gaze. The elf gave him a soft smile in return and tightened his hand on the uruk's shoulder for a moment. "Go. I know you want to take look for yourself. We got time, now. We can speak after."

Adar briefly remained rooted to the spot, then nodded gratefully before he walked over to the broken sword.

Celebrimbor himself went over to his friends instead and sunk down at Elrond’s side, where the peredhel still remained laying on the ground.

He had a wound on his temple that bled a little, and groaned when the smith gently helped him into a sitting position. "I think I hit my head. Twice," he complained and swayed in place for a moment. Celebrimbor winced as he remembered how he had first caught a glimpse of Elrond in this room during the battle. If he’d been thrown into a wall as well, Elrond would surely bruise into various shades of blue and purple in the aftermath of this fight.

Gil-Galad staggered over to them shortly after; he too still looked a little out of it, but at least he could walk on his own. He relieved Celebrimbor of holding up Elrond and let the peredhel rest against his own raised knee and chest instead.

He also placed a hand on the smith’s nape. "How are you?" he asked, and then. "You shouldn’t be here."

Celebrimbor stared at his king and then tilted his head sideways. "I apologize for not following your orders. Again. But if I had, you might all be dead now," he shrugged. "So forgive me for now feeling particularly remorseful that I didn't."

Gil-Galad’s look was one of resignation, but it only held for a moment before he reached around the smith and drew him into a hug.

These were strange times indeed, Celebrimbor thought briefly, but let himself get dragged forward and returned the hug. He even went so far as to wind an arm around Elrond as well, albeit gently as to not jostle the poor herald too much. It seemed that a hand on Celebrimbor's arm was the best the younger elf could do to reciprocate. The smith simply closed his eyes for a brief moment and enjoyed the contact.

From across the forge, he heard voices, and opened his eyes to find Galadriel and Adar standing together, shoulder to shoulder, looking at the ‘remains’ of the maia.

"Do you think he’s truly gone?" Adar asked, sounding skeptical. There was still tension to his body, his gauntleted hand curling and uncurling by his side.

Galadriel, however, looked more at ease. She did still kept a hand on her upper thigh, but did not seem to be in great pain at least. "I do not know," she confessed. "I hoped you would."

"I thought he was dead the last time. I would not trust my judgement."

"Well," she replied, and the sound of her voice was resolute. "I consider it my responsibility to keep my eyes out for that eventuality. Not yours."

She turned towards the uruk, and then, with a grin, pointed her chin in Celebrimbor’s direction. "I think you have a different one, now. Let me deal with the past. Go focus on your future instead."

The smith’s eyes widened, and he slowly eased himself out of Elrond and Gil-Galad's embrace as he watched Adar’s eyes drift towards him. Galadriel was still grinning as she watched them looking at one another.

"I think- you are right about that," Adar admitted. There was an almost reverent look in his eyes as he beheld Celebrimbor.

Now that he knew his friends were alright – or, at least as alright as could be – and Adar had made sure to that the maia would indeed not pose a danger to them anymore, the smith felt an urge grow in himself to get up and walk to his husband.

So he stumbled to his feet, and as he began to move forward, Adar in turn began to come towards him as well.

"Celebrimbor-" he began to say, but the elf did not let him finish.

He just threw his arms around the uruk’s middle and shoulders and drew him close, his own face pressed to the side of Adar’s. There was a sob stuck in his throat, and he knew it was audible as he started to speak.

"I couldn’t bear it," he admitted, and it was now that the words he couldn’t say the day before were spilling out to him. "The thought of losing you. I should have said something, yesterday, but I couldn’t find the words. That is why I went against your wishes and snuck into the city – I couldn’t risk you dying before I told you that-"

He shivered. Adar was motionless in his arms, but the smith did not care. Nor that they had an audience. "I have come to care for you, deeply, in those last few weeks. You were nothing like I expected. You treated me gently and as an equal, you care so much, not just about your own people."

"I found myself feeling safe in your presence and warm whenever you would look at me as if you wished to know me, too, as I did you."

"This marriage of ours might be political, but- I have begun to feel affection for you."

"I think- I think I might indeed be loving you."

"You do not have to return those feelings, of course. But. I had to tell you that you are – loved. And cared for. I need you to know that. No matter how-"

Finally, there was movement. Celebrimbor’s breath caught in his throat when Adar began to tremble, and then, an arm wound itself around his hips, drawing the elf closer and against the uruk's chest.

Adar’s breath came out unevenly by his ear, as if he were struggling with it.

After a moment, the uruk turned his head, and Celebrimbor found their cheeks pressed against one another. Adar pressed his face into Celebrimbor’s hair as he took a wet, shuddering breath.

There was liquid seeping into the space where their skin met.

"I was terrified when I saw you charge him," Adar confessed, voice quiet. He sounded just as overcome as Celebrimbor felt. "It was wrong to send you back to camp, but- I feared what might happen if you came along. I did not wish for you to get hurt, and I was afraid I might not be able to protect you."

"It clouded my judgement. I am sorry. But I- like you. Losing you was a risk I could not take. I wished for you to live; I needed you to live."

With another breath, Adar raised his other arm as well, and placed his hand on the back of Celebrimbor’s head as the drew him even closer. Celebrimbor’s own arms tightened about the uruk and he, too, lifted a hand into Adar’s hair, thumb stroking the dark strands in an attempt to calm and reassure the other.

"I care about you, too. As you do me," it was clear the uruk was struggling with his words. He had not yet found the ones Celebrimbor had, perhaps, but from what he was saying, the elf could pick up on his meaning.

He felt his chest expand, felt light and warm and safe, felt the world fall away from him and all that remained was the one in his arms – alive, alive, alive.

And then-

"I love you, too."

Oh.

It felt like a hardship, moving even the slightest bit from their embrace, so Celebrimbor rubbed their cheeks against one another as he turned his head until their noses and foreheads were pressed together, close enough to feel one another’s breaths in their chests and puffing out in what little space remained between them.

He let Adar’s tear smear into their skin as he cupped his husband’s cheek.

Aquamarine eyes stared at him, wide and so very vulnerable. For the first time since Celebrimbor had met him, Adar’s face was completely unguarded, and it had relief was written all over it. Relief, and love.

The elf smiled softly at him. He remembered how careful Adar had been during their wedding and asked. "May I kiss you?"

Judging by the look on his face, the slight quirk to his lips, Adar knew exactly what Celebrimbor had remembered. His smile, once again, seemed to remake his face. He looked radiant. "Yes."

Pressing their lips together felt, for all intents and purposes, like coming home. Whatever tension had remained seemed to drop from Adar’s shoulders as he wound his arms even tighter around the smith, who moved his fingers to the back of the uruk’s head as if afraid the other might disappear from beneath his hands.

But he wouldn’t, he knew that. They were both safe now.

Adar’s lips were just as warm and soft as the elf remembered, but this time, they parted readily under his own. Celebrimbor moved them together with a sigh, delighted as he briefly felt Adar’s eyelashes brush against his skin. Kissing the uruk had him feel as if he were floating.

It was not just warmth, but something else that spread through the elf, to the top of his head, the tips of his fingers, every point of contact between them. It almost felt like vertigo. Everywhere they touched, his skin tingled.

And in his head, endlessly repeating, were words that reassured him.

‘He is alive. He is well and right here in my arms. He loves me and knows I love him.‘

The two were slow to separate again, and as they did, their foreheads continued to touch while their lips lingered, still brushing against each other. Celebrimbor stroked his thumb over Adar’s cheek and felt Adar’s hand at his hip squeeze him there. The uruk buried his hand deeper into Celebrimbor’s strands before the uruk pressed another, smaller kiss to his lips, as if unable to help himself.

Or perhaps, unwilling to do so, now that he could kiss his husband as he wanted. Celebrimbor, for his part, gladly let himself be kissed again. This one was more chaste, but no less heartfelt.

Suddenly, a small giggle tumbled from Celebrimbor’s mouth. At Adar’s questioning look, the smith lightly shook his head and pointed out, "We are really doing this all backwards, aren’t we? Usually couples are supposed to fall in love first and then marry."

Adar snorted, and let another grin grow across his face. "Well. I heard people call it a ‘marriage of convenience’, too," his grin turned sly. "It is certainly convenient that we are already married in this case, wouldn’t you agree?"

The laughter that spilled out of Celebrimbor in response was light and easy, and he felt so charmed by Adar’s little joke and the fond expression on the uruk's face that he drew the other into a third kiss.

Anything else could wait. They would have time to rebuild, to further strengthen their alliance, to figure out how to go from here.

His city was safe, Adar’s uruk were safe. His friends would be alright, and if Celebrimbor had any say in it, he and Adar would be alright too.

Their future looked bright, and Celebrimbor couldn’t wait to walk towards it, hand in hand with his husband.

#finally! the heartfelt confessions! the smooch! the payoff! *flops backwards* YEs!#did I mention I wrote almost all of part 10 in one day? yeah. don't do that kids.#I didn't originally plan for them to openly use the three famous words but y'know. It felt right somehow. They've fought hard to say them.#they are having all the feels. ALL of them. But it's okay. They are having those feels together now.#of convenience #adar #adar trop #adar the rings of power #celebrimbor #adar x celebrimbor #silverscars #trop #the rings of power #fanfic #my fanfic #my trop fanfic #mine #political marriage trope #marriage of convenience trope

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