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simonbrain · 4 months ago

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love the idea of reader just trying to fuck all her stress out with a random at the bar before returning back to her mundane life, and simon deciding he's going to keep her instead 🙂‍↕️

the prick doesn't budge when you try to kick him out; instead, he drags you back into bed and works his mouth to loosen you up again, and now you've forgotten why you were trying to haul his ass out of your home.

(you attempted to sound stern while telling him to get out of your house, but he merely chuckled, the sound so raspy and condescending that it stroked a heat within you that you thought was sated last night.

"this is our home. now get your arse back in bed, i'm fuckin' hungry.")

you had to really fist at his hair to pull him off of you, and that only turned him on if the deep groan rumbling out of him was anything to go by—you swear his tongue sunk deeper inside you. he only relented so he could fuck you dumb in the shower after, leaving you with trembling legs and feeling more dirty than clean (atta girl, don't you waste any of tha'—keep it all in).

you blink, and now suddenly you're seated as he spoon-feeds you a nice, hearty breakfast, huffing something like messy girl when toast crumbs get all over your face and the wooden table.

words can't express how flustered you are; you're too stunned to even continue telling the big man who's now feeding you scrambled eggs that he needs to leave. all you feel like you're capable of doing is opening your mouth to accept another spoonful, ignoring the ache you feel between your thighs when you catch his heavy stare and hear a low hum of approval.

then he's leaving (and it's not because of your nagging), muttering something about having to work those mutts to the bone today, all while you're trying to make sense of what's happening. he gives you a sloppy kiss to silence your questions and exasperation, one that makes you feel hot all over and almost melt into a puddle had it not been for the firm grip he had on your ass.

he licks his lips when he pulls back, eyes darting to where your shirt just barely covers where he'd rather be all day than having to go and train recruits. he stares for an uncomfortably long time and before you can speak up, face growing a little hot from the tension, he's turning around to finally leave.

before the door shuts, he says, "be a good girl, ay? see you tonight, birdie."

you're left with your thoughts and feelings of dread and anxiety. there definitely isn't any underlying interest or anything; the freak has fucked your brain out of your head, that's all. you're sure he didn't even mean it anyway. maybe. hopefully.

a drop of his come rolls down your thigh, and arousal shame burns through you. since when did you let one-night stands finish in you?

(your so-called one-night stand came home hungry and pissed, so worked up that he dragged you over to the nearest surface and played with you for a good hour. by the time you had half the mind to tell him about the dinner in the oven—your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at how much money he had sent you for groceries earlier, nevermind how he got ahold of your account details—he grunted and finally gave your poor pussy a break, scarred mug all slick and flushed.)

good luck when he takes you to meet his mates at the bar a week later, the same bar you brought him home from; the comments from them make you wish a hole in the ground would just swallow you right up.

"pretty thing ye caught, lt," johnny grins, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. he's a bit over the top, ogles your chest too hard, but overall he's... alright. you'd probably notice how perverted he really was if you actually looked at him longer than a few fleeting glances, but his stare is kind of unnerving.

kyle—perfection personified—hums in agreement, a warm smile on his face that puts you at ease. somehow you don't pick up on the ulterior motive behind his gaze running over your body, eyes roaming over your chest more discreetly than johnny but just as appreciative. "pretty indeed. you don't mind sharing, do you ghost?" kyle teases, pretty eyes glancing over at simon, who only huffs at that and shakes his head (much to your confusion).

who the fuck is ghost? you only know big guy and simon.

there's a deep chuckle and your focus flits over to the man seated in front of you, captain john price. if you thought simon was scary, john's a man who demands respect and attention just by being in his presence. "you chose the wrong dog to bring home," john hums, voice deep and gravelly and making you shamefully squeeze your thighs together.

"but that's alright, sweetheart. you have three others now, yeah?" the purr that comes out of his mouth is sinful, and when you nod and stammer out a yes, sir as if you were one of his soldiers and not the sweet girl that simon has brought to his captain, looking for approval of his newest toy, he only smiles.

simon's hand squeezes your thigh underneath the table, trailing upwards, and you're slowly understanding what it is that you've gotten yourself into.

#reader taking home the biggest and scariest man at the bar and thinking nothing will go wrong #don't even get me started on when he starts referring to you as his missus #he has the marriage certificate to prove it too (with your forged signature ofc)#poor you just wanted to get laid and instead you got a freak for a husband #it's okay you'll love him eventually #btw he shares you with the team sometimes. just fyi #men like them deserve a sweet treat too #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #rainwrites 𐙚

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greenleaf4stuff · 8 days ago

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Of Convenience 8.2

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 8th snippet, part 2. Celebrimbor returns to Adar's tent with a surprise and has a reunion with another friend. The new alliance finally seems to have a fighting chance - in more ways than one.

This chapter is finally going to feature poor beleaguered Gil-Galad – Adar, hide your wine stash (or don't, if you want to make a good impression)! Once again I want to thank all the lovely people who like, reblog, tag or comment this fic or who have sent me messages - your support means everything! <3 I hope you enjoy!

Celebrimbor walked back towards Adar's tent with a spring in his step and a smile on his face that was, perhaps, unbefitting the seriousness of the situation. But after how successful his work had been, he felt he was allowed a little levity.

Gurlak herself had been decidedly more skeptical than Adar at first - and pressed herself to the wall of the shed with a loud hiss when Celebrimbor had uncovered Morgoth's crown.

"I am not touching that thing! Not even with tongs and while wearing gloves!"

"I understand, and I am not going to make you! The only thing I ask is that you let me use your forge and your equipment," he reassured the uruk. "This is going to be Adar's weapon to hopefully kill Sauron - for good, this time. But the way this was made...it is no weapon suited for battle. Please, Gurlak, he will need every advantage we can give him. I only wish to try to even the odds for him, at least a little."

She'd taken a shuddering breath and watched the elf dubiously for a while, but eventually, she'd permitted him to use her smithy. "Just make sure he survives it, whatever it is Adar will be facing." Had been her only condition.

Celebrimbor had nodded in answer. "I intend to."

It might be too early to pat himself on the back just yet, but Celebrimbor thought that he'd done his best to fulfill her condition. He allowed himself to feel a little lighter as a result, as well as giddy; he was quite curious about what Adar's reaction to his work might be.

When he arrived at their shared tent, the elf blinked in surprise - aside from the usual uruk guards, there were perhaps a dozen elves in full armor, hands on their weapons and surrounding the tent as they eyed their counterparts with suspicion.

Beside him, Glûg cursed under his breath. "You think this is what I think it is?"

Celebrimbor's heart had leapt into his throat at the sight - but not in fear, this time. "I think it might indeed be," his voice carried the elation he felt.

The High King of Lindon, Ereinion Gil-Galad himself, had arrived in Adar's camp. Heavily guarded, just as Elrond had said he would be.

If the smith's heart could have burst with anticipation, Celebrimbor might have feared for it to happen in that moment. Instead, he took a steadying breath and turned to Glûg. "I am sure you want to come too. I think Adar isn't gonna object to you keeping a close eye on his husband, especially at such a crucial point in time," he said with a quirk to his lips even as he affected pure innocence.

Glûg threw him a sideways glance, visibly caught - the uruk was suprisingly nosy, Celebrimbor had realized. A good quality for a lieutenant, in his opinion, which might have been why he did his best to foster it instead of denying the uruk his inquisitiveness.

Every leader needed someone in their lives who was unafraid to know more, to ask questions...and speak his mind. "Yeah. You are probably right," Glûg said, slowly. Even if his mouth was uniquely shaped due to his long teeth, Celebrimbor could tell the other was smiling back at him.

Steeling himself, Celebrimbor clutched the coarse fabric in his arms, and continued to walk towards the tent.

The elven guards were quick to notice him. Some looked relieved to see him, others were more cautious. The smith could spot Rían among them, who had accompanied Elrond once or twice on previous talks, and he tilted his head at her in greeting before he entered the tent. She gave him a small, encouraging grin in response.

Inside their tent, it was a bit crowded; Celebrimbor almost ran into another elven guard, this one tall as a tree, and needed a moment to catch sight of what went on in the middle of the interior.

Celebrimbor could see Galadriel and Elrond - accompanied by Vorohil - standing close to the table. Adar stood at the opposite side, looking tense but not antagonistic. The table itself held what seemed to be a hastily prepared selection of vegetables, greenery, and fruits, as well as several chalices of drink.

Positioned among his elven friends, shining golden like the sun itself, stood the high king of the elves. Gil-Galad had exchanged his robes for heavy, golden armor and braided his hair as if in preparation for a battle. He, too, looked tense. Celebrimbor had never been so glad to see him.

Eagerly, Celebrimbor pushed through the throng of guards and exclaimed, "Gil-Galad - I didn't know you were going to be coming so soon!" And then, with a hint of embarrassment, "I'd have made myself look more presentable if I did."

A hush fell over the tent, with even the guards stopping their whisperings, as all eyes moved to the elven smith. It uncomfortably reminded him of the time when he'd cursed his bad luck multiple days ago, and he winced lightly before he soldiered on and stepped close to the table.

Ereinion looked surprised to see him, eyes widened slightly. After a moment, he strode around the table and came to stand in front of Celebrimbor.

"Tyelpe. It is good to see you alive - and whole," the High King stated. His eyes were moving over the smith, searching, before they settled back on his face.

And then, before Celebrimbor knew what was happening, Ereinion had reached forward and drawn the smith into a tight hug.

The smith needed a few blinks before he managed to regain himself. Gil-Galad was many things, but being prone to touching others wasn't usually among them. The elf supposed it was a sign that the king had indeed feared the worst. Tentatively, he freed one of his arms from the bundle he still held, and wrapped it around the high king in turn. "It is good to see you, too, Ereinion."

Suddenly, there was a sound from the other side of the table that almost sounded like a growl. When Celebrimbor startled and turned around, he found Adar staring at him- no, not at him, but at Gil-Galad, nostrils flaring and hands clenched. With a frown, the smith looked at Gil-Galad, and felt confusion as he noticed the high king wear a similar expression of drawn eyebrows and pinched lips.

His eyes flew between the two of them as he tried to understand what was going on, until they settled on Galadriel, who...wore a smirk, of all things. And looked mischievously from Celebrimbor to Adar and back when she caught his eye.

The smith frowned, unsure what she was getting at, and freed himself from Gil-Galad's embrace.

"I am glad we are finally able to sit at the negotiation table together, all of us," the smith tried to dissipate the strange tension that had fallen over the group. He knew his king was protective of those he considered friends and family, but surely there was no reason to sour the current talks with a show of distrust?

And he couldn't even hope to parse what Adar's reaction might have been caused by. He's ask him about it later.

"Please, sit, everyone. I am sure we have much to talk about."

Gil-Galad seemed reluctant to follow Celebrimbor's request at first, but eventually acquiesced. As did the others, who walked to the chairs that had been prepared for them.

Adar, however, was looking at Celebrimbor.

"How has your project gone?" Again, it took the smith a moment to pick up on what Adar was talking about, but then smiled brightly at his husband. It was obvious the other had searched the Celebrimbor with his eyes for the shape of the crown, and hadn't found it.

Well, Celebrimbor would change that.

"Thank you for reminding me - it has gone better than expected! Here-" and he moved the shape in his arms, wrapped in coarse linen, and gently placed it on the table before Adar. It was long and slim, not at all like a crown anymore.

Adar stared at the smith skeptically, then stretched out his bare hand as he gingerly folded aside the fabric. The open surprise on his face caused Celebrimbor to rock back and forth on his feet with both mirth and delight.

The uruk had been right, Morgoth's crown had been tough to reforge, doubly so because the circumstances were not ideal. But the smith had refused to be bested by it - and, in turn, the maiar who had previously worked on the metal. It had taken much coaxing and every bit of his knowledge and skill as a smith, but eventually, the darkened iron had bent to his will.

What had been wrought from it now lay on the table before all of them. It hadn't been enough for a greatsword like Adar's, but with some additional material, a shortsword had been achieved. It was utilitarian, for the metal had refused to let itself be remade into a more pleasing shape, and so it lay, simple and dark and still menacing, but it was a sword now. Certainly easier to use in a fight than a crown, and hopefully, more lethal as well.

At the elves' questioning glances, Celebrimbor pointed at it and explained. "I reworked Morgoth's crown. If this is to be our best chance at killing Sauron, I am not letting you lot walk into this fight and wield something that is meant to be worn as adornment in court, not brandished as weapon in battle."

The incredulous expressions on his friends' faces caused the smith to preen. Yes, pride had been a weakness of his back in Eregion, but he felt entitled to a little bit of it at least.

Working on this sword had felt like reclaiming a part of himself, in a strange way - while Sauron had taken his creations and tainted them, he had taken one of his and reforged it to serve the elf's own purposes.

How fitting it would be, if it caused the Deceiver's own destruction.

"Where did you do this?" Gil-Galad asked, pointing his hand at the sword as he looked at Celebrimbor. The high king did tend to look slightly exasperated even at the best of times, but currently, he held an expression of sheer disbelief.

The smith raised his eyebrows and pointed over his shoulder with his index finger, in the direction of the tentflap. He briefly turned towards it, then back to Gil-Galad, and simply said. "Well. Here, in the camp. One of Adar's smiths graciously lent me her forge."

Gil-Galad's eyes fell to the sword again. Galadriel and Elrond were studying it just as intently, the look on their faces similar to the one they'd worn when he'd first presented the elven rings to them.

It was Adar who spoke next. "I have heard many stories about the house of Feanor - about your grandfather, specifically," Celebrimbr looked up and found Adar staring at him. The uruk was less expressive than most elves, so the sheer, open look of awe on his face felt sent a thrill through Celebrimbor's whole body, made him feel giddy and warm. "The greastest elven smith who ever lived."

"I would claim that you needn't question your own greatness in comparison to him. If anything, I think you might surpass him. No other being I have met, save for a valar and a maiar, have been able to alter this crown."

"And you did it in an uruk camp, with a cobbled-together forge and scavenged tools."

It was a close thing, but Celebrimbor felt as if he could have almost wept with the praise. Many people had paid compliments to him and his work. Compared him to his grandfather and his deeds.

And yet, none had ever felt as sincere, and none had ever touched him as deeply, as that of the uruk he had bound himself to in a desperate bid to save both their people, and who would carry his creation into battle.

Celebrimbor's face broke out into a wide, slightly shaky smile. "Thank you, Adar, I-" a pause and, as fondness overcame him, the smith added. "Consider it a belated wedding present, if you'd like."

And there it was, the faintest hint of a smile on Adar's face, once again.

"...I think I should like that."

Celebrimbor didn't know it, but the smile he gave in response was as radiant and warm as the sun itself.

#*big long dreamy sigh* just flippin' kiss already (again) please #yes adar you actually *did* marry the single (hehe) greatest living smith in all of middle earth #the idea of brimby doing *this* would not leave me alone and I adore the inherent irony of it and what it represents for him and adar #modern Celebrimbor would wear the surname MacGyver and forge his rings with a lighter a charcoal stick a ventilator and a pair of tweezers #these two husbands are so protective of each other - each in his own way but they complement each other in how they strive towards doing it #Also: Gil is indeed reacting the way he does because he is protective of Brimby and still doesn't quite trust Adar's intentions.#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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