#soft hint of

[aph-america]

Important Powerpoint PLEASE READ!!!

Thank you for reading. Hopefully you understand and now will join the army of spreading the bbygurl Ivan Braginsky agenda

[novaneondream]

Anyways what kind of music do you think Eri listens to

[tantalizing-toblerone]

I thought the angel devil on each of his shoulders was a silly concept

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

🩵

[erwinsvow]

“yeah, you want that one?” rafe asks you, while you browse through the dresses on the rack. the one you’ve picked out to show him is yellow gingham, with skinny straps and a bow on the neckline. you hold the dress to your chest, looking down to see where it’ll end on you. “i’ll get it for you.”

“hm…” you consider the idea for a moment, holding the dress out again to get a better look. “i don’t know. it’s pretty short.”

“since when is that a bad thing?” rafe moves his arm against the rack, manhandling the hanger from your hand and holding it against you himself. “think it’s perfect.” you laugh at your boyfriend’s antics.

“there has to be a reason to wear it, rafe. i don’t have any right now.”

“we’ll go to dinner. there’s your reason.”

“i have other dresses,” you decide finally, putting it back between the others.

“c’mon, just let me get it for you.” he follows you while you walk away and wander towards the jewelry section of the store. you look down at sparkling silver and shimmery gold, while rafe joins you and leans against the glass counter. “you want jewelry instead? that’s fine.”

“no, i’m just looking,” you insist again. “it’s called window shopping. ever heard of it? 

there’s pretty things in the case, a silver bracelet with little blue stones that particularly catches your eye since blue is your new favorite color, but you don’t really want anything, and you really don’t want rafe to buy it for you.

“no. just pick somethin’ out. my treat.” you glance up at rafe.

“for what? i haven’t done anything.” he laughs to himself, not necessarily at you, more because of you.

“i don’t need a reason.” he makes you flush, so you walk away again, this time to the shoes. you hold a pair of brown sandals in your hand, flipping them over to see the size.

“you already treated me, remember? you paid for lunch.” rafe grabs the shoes out of your hands too.

“that’s a meal, not a treat. want these?” he looks down at you, not even sparing a glance to the price tag. “c’mon.” you grab his wrist as fast as you can.

“no! no. i have some just like these. it’ll be a waste, i’ll never wear them.”

“are you bein’ serious or are you just sayin’ that?” damn it. you are just saying it, since you don’t want rafe spending his money on you. you lie to cover your tracks.

“serious. i’d never lie to you.”

you wrestle the shoes out of his hand, settling them back on the shelf. 

“fine. c’mon, we can go somewhere else.” you finally let him buy you an ice cream cone just so he’ll stop offering.

you try to explain to rafe that the reason you want to walk around is to look around and spend time with him, not to really buy things, but he’s hard to convince. 

rafe thinks you need to stop being so worried about what everyone will think. you’re still bad at it, trying to ignore that part of you that murmurs in your ear that people will judge you for all these nice, new things rafe wants to buy you. you think people will say you’re dating him for the money, but worse than that, you think people will say bad things about rafe, about his choice in dating you, if you ever make him buy you more than dinner or ice cream.

your hesitancy gets the best of you, and even though you’ve always had some nice things, being pampered by rafe feels inherently wrong, like you should at least make sure he knows he doesn’t need to buy you anything. lost in your own thoughts, you’ve rejected his offers countless times, and the only new, expensive thing he’s gotten you since you started dating is the R necklace you wear everyday. 

you think you’re good at hiding it, but you’re not. rafe sees right through you, and he knows what he’s going to do about it. 

later that week, rafe drops you off at home in the morning after you slept over. you still think he hates driving in the cut—as much as he denies it—but he refuses to let you bike back and forth to tannyhill. 

“i’ll pick you up for dinner.” he says, leaning across you to open the passenger side door. you flush like you always do, partly because he’s not asking, he’s telling.

you nod, and then wave bye from the window. he waits until you get inside to drive away, which makes you want to go scream into your pillow. you head into your room to do just that, but you’re greeted instead by bags and boxes littered across your bed.

you know what they are, even before you walk over on your wobbly knees and set aside the tissue paper, looking down with watery eyes all the things you had been admiring in the store the other day with rafe. you sit down next to them—the yellow dress, the pretty sandals, the glittery bracelet—and dial rafe’s number on your phone. you exhale shaky breaths while the line rings, but can’t hold back tears any longer when he answers.

“you didn’t have to do this,” you say quietly into the phone, biting your cheek. you try to blink away the new tears.

“do what?” you laugh, so rafe laughs too. 

“i…i feel bad when you buy me things.”

“i know. y’should stop that.”

“or you can stop first.”

“i’m never gonna stop.” you suck in a breath, heart thudding and feeling deliriously in love. “gonna come get you later. wear the new stuff, okay?”

“okay. i will.”

“that’s my girl.” you fall back and let your head hit the pillow.

[doctorho]

viktor doesn't... pay that much attention to appearances, his or anyone else's. not when it doesn't matter. sure, there's the 'wearing what they see as respectable clothes so they take you seriously' and the 'not going to the dinner table covered in oil stains', but beyond that? he doesn't really care, to be honest.

yes, he's aware that some people put a lot more thought into the way they look, and into what other people think about the way they look. he knows that's a thing. it just happens to be a thing he chooses not to personally get invonved in.

well, it had been.

he honestly hadn't even thought about it much, before. it had just been one of those things that other people did, one of those things he had never really understood. you know, one of those things that made him feel like maybe the rest of the world had had some secret meeting without him where they decided that yes, these are the rules, and no, we won't explain them, you just have to know.

one of those things.

and he had been fine not thinking about it! truly, he had been blissfully unaware of what the current beauty standards were and which traits were seen as good or bad on which year -

and then he'd met you, by some miracle. you know, viktor doesn't meet that many new people, these days, so it does genuinely feel like a miracle when you just... stumble into his life one day. and without even thinking about it, automatically, viktor's brain files you away as beautiful, and he treats that as a passing fact, the same way he treats the color of your eyes. it's just a categorizing trait; this person just is beautiful.

and then, later, when he learns that apparently not everyone thinks that, his brain disagrees, severly. like - are they blind? is this a joke? it's a bad joke, if so, and then he's mad for you.

because he remembers that, ah, right. some people are weird about appearances. they have their menial rules about it that change by the decade.

he's still mad for you, but mentally he's ended that argument with well they're all idiots. because clearly you are an awesome, incredible, beautiful human being and this shouldn't be an argument in the first place.

he tells you this, and then his heart breaks a little when you seem so used to hearing the opposite. when you seem to have accepted what those idiots were saying because you'd just...heard it so often.

when you seem to not-quite-believe that he could really see you as beautiful. that he could really, actually want you. like that.

and it's - it drives him up the wall that this is even a thing. that the negative things you've heard outweigh the positive ones, and apparently by a landslide. that he can't make you see yourself the way he sees you.

because, truly, he thinks you're so beautiful. like, are you kidding? viktor's been skin and bone his whole life, and you're so...soft. he knows it way before he ever touches you; he can see it, and he has a well enough functioning imagination. and he's been thinking about it a lot, lately. what you'd feel like under his fingers. against his body. he has theories about this.

he can tell you're soft, and warm, and sometimes when the sunlight hits you he genuinely thinks you look like you could be straight out of one of those expensive oil paintings people paid a lot of money to see just a glimpse of.

and - yes, okay, maybe some of this was just his hormones talking, but come on. he couldn't not want to touch you. that was just one of those facts of life - the sun rose every morning, and whenever viktor saw you, he had the urge to touch you. to be close to you. to prove to you how much he adored you.

and then when you let him? that - that felt like a miracle. truly and honestly. because - viktor had never considered himself to be especially lucky, just, like, in life in general, but this?

he had to have won some sort of cosmic lottery. to first be lucky enough to meet you and then to be able to do this. to get so close. to touch you like this, to see you like this. it is nothing short of a privilege and he takes it, happily and greedily. and he makes it his personal mission to let you know exactly what he thought about you, and exactly how little you should care about anyone else's opinion. except your own, of course, but only on those days your mind was being kind to you.

so he makes sure you know that he absolutely worships you. okay? you are his personal deity, and he is devoted. he lets you know, any way he knows how, and any opportunity he gets. given half a chance, he will be praising you, telling how gorgeous you are and how lucky he is to have you. telling you how good you look, how good you feel, how good you make him feel. he isn't shy - he tells you, in enough detail to make your cheeks heat up.

and when you're alone, and you have all the time in the world? he shows you, and he doesn't hold back. and then he reminds you, again and again and again.

and you know viktor isn't a liar. he doesn't care about things like this enough to lie about them. so when he tells you that he loves the way you look, the way you feel, the way you are, you believe him.

[mpsansy]

She’s definitely saying kind loving things to Torbek

[justaz]

married merthur lounging in bed, gently caressing the other as sunlight streams through the windows and across the bed, warming them even more. though its a slow morning, the weight of their duties is slowly growing heavier and heavier as the time for them to get up approaches. merlin remembering arthur’s dream of sometimes wanting to run away and live on a farm where no one knew who he was. as grateful as he is for the happy ending he’s been blessed with, he can’t help but also wish to get away with arthur and escape their responsibilities.

his magic thrums under his skin and his hands still. it takes arthur a moment to call him out on it. merlin asks if he still wants to run away together. arthur shifts to look him in the eye and is like “sometimes, i suppose. why?”

merlin drags his finger down arthur’s side and lets his magic dip beneath his king’s skin, “why don’t we go?”

arthur shivers as he feels the warm, buzzing magic settle over his ribs and is like “we have a kingdom to run. can’t exactly just leave it all behind.” and merlin grins and brings his hand to hold arthur’s, lacing their fingers together.

“who says we leave it all behind? why not a…a vacation?” arthur raises an eyebrow and echoes his suggestion. merlin nods.

“and what if something happens while we’re gone? an attack or a sickness or…”

“i have magic, arthur. if i can use it to get us away then i can use it to bring us back,” he reminds his husband, “morgana and gaius can reach us with communication spells if there’s truly something wrong. we can leave gwen and morgana in charge. we can get away for a bit. like a honeymoon.”

“we’ve been married for a couple years now. can we even still have a honeymoon?”

“i didn’t get a honeymoon before, i should get one now.” arthur concedes to his point and considers his idea. merlin pushes further, “with my magic, we could go anywhere in the world. wherever you want. greece, egypt, china…” merlin smiles and presses a kiss to arthur’s pouting lips, “anywhere, everywhere.”

arthur sighs out of his nose as a smile grows on his face, captivated by the idea, “somewhere warm with a beach.”

merlin laughs giddily and rolls over on top of arthur, pressing kiss after kiss to his lips, cheeks, and jaw, “anywhere else?”

arthur drags him back down into a tender kiss and rolls them back over, arthur pressing merlin down into the mattress, “anywhere as long as i’m with you.”

[peace-hunter]

rewatched the ending of predacons rising to look for a reference and i'm sick to my stomach. again. what do you mean he died. what do you mean he fought for millions of years and didn't get to see the peace he sacrificed so much for. what do you mean they finally had the key to bring their planet back to life and he had to pay with his life for it. was everything he'd gone through not enough. didn't he deserve a chance at a peaceful life too. i'm gonna throw up OTL

[mermaidslabyrinth]

My OC Rhagerys Targaryen with the two most important men in his life.

His cousin Aemond and his father Daemon. He loves them both dearly. But like any Targaryen it's not a normal/healthy love for either of them...

This wonderful art piece was done by the beyond talented @murmel-malt. They did such a great job at capturing the three of them. I especially love how Rhagerys is looking at Aemond. And how Daemon is so confidently aloof.

[lenle-g]

Inspired by these Scott and John words by the amazing @scribbles97 who knows I adore the idea of John's Oxford stint and couldn't resist this gem <3

The letter’s weight hadn’t changed in his hands, even if it’s appearance had. Once crisp sharp edges were now crumpled and the two folds were starting to rip where he had folded and unfolded it so many times.  Practically, he knew the letter was exactly the same weight as it had been when his course supervisor had handed it to him. Except, as days had become a week, the weight had felt heavier in John’s chest. He only had another week to think about it, his supervisor had warned it would take all summer to make the appropriate arrangements. His professors had all seemed convinced that he would go, it wasn’t every day you got invited to study at Oxford University after all. 

It would only be for a year, Ffion had insisted at study group, an interim that would still count towards his degree. He had only part jokingly asked if she wanted to go in his place. She would be much better suited to making friends in a new place. 

There was no denying it though, Oxford was tempting. The British University had always been in close competition with Harvard, each trying to outdo one another year on year with improved facilities and support. The only reason John hadn’t considered the other University had been the same reason he was still hesitating with the offer. 

Oxford was a long way away. 

To get home from Harvard, at best, was a four hour flight, at worst a two day drive. 

Oxford was transatlantic, at least double the flight time. 

He wouldn’t see his family for a whole year. 

Looking up he watched the gentle sway of the apple tree in the breeze, listened to the gentle creak of the barn doors. He wouldn’t see home for a whole year. 

“Whatcha doing out here, Johnny?” 

His eyes widened as he looked over his shoulder to the door back into the kitchen. Scott was leaning against the frame, the knowing cocky smile familiar as always. 

“You’re an hour early.”

Scott was meant to have flown in from Virginia, his flight was meant to have just landed. They all knew how long it took from landing to get home, they’d all done it enough times. 

Big brother sighed as he stepped out onto the verandah, hands shoved in his jean pockets as he leant on the railing next to the step where John was sitting. 

“Dad left a jet in DC and took the new rail line up to New York, said I could fly myself home. You do the math.”

He already had. 

“So, your turn to answer my question.” Scott continued, nodding at the letter, “What you got there?”

He was grateful really, Scott had been the one he had wanted to talk to about the whole thing. Scott would know what to say, his biggest brother somehow just always did. There wasn’t the same pressure from Scott as there was from Dad, he just understood differently. 

“Oxford University have invited me to complete my research year over there.” He admitted, reading over the words he already had memorised, “I could spend the next academic year in England.”

“Nice one.” Scott grinned, “I’ll tell Dad to pick up a bottle of something on his way in so we can ce--”

“I don’t know if I’m going to accept it.” He cut him off forcefully. Just like Dad, Scott had a habit of getting ahead of himself. 

The message seemed to get through though as his big brother plopped down next to him on the step. His frown was obvious confusion. 

“John, that’s one hell of an offer, Oxford is… it’s Oxford.”

“At present they have the better facilities over Harvard.” He filled in, not taking his eyes off of the paper, “They’ve just spent six million upgrading their Offshore Observatory. That’s as well as the Royal Observatory which is as good as what we’ve got at Harvard.”

On paper, comparing the facilities left it as a no brainer. 

“So what’s the hang up?” Scott asked, reaching for the letter to read for himself. 

Still John’s eyes didn’t leave the paper, still firmly fixed in place as his big brother read over the words for him. 

“Oxford is in England.”

Scott looked up, eyebrow raised, “So?”

“I don’t know anybody in England.” He sighed, “You guys all worry that I spend too much time on my own now if I go over there I’ll spend even less time with people.”

Scott shrugged at he leant against the railing of the steps, “You like being on your own though. I thought you would have jumped at the chance.” 

A glance back towards the kitchen apparently gave Scott all the answers he needed as John pursed his lips. 

“Oh.” 

“I know I’m not as close as the rest of you,” He admitted softly, “But you’re still my family.”

Scott shuffled over until their shoulders were pressed together. John expected him to sling an arm across his back, but was grateful when he didn’t. Instead big brother handed back the letter, nodding as he did so.

“And you’re still our brother, moving across an ocean isn’t going to change that. I’d come and visit when I’m on leave. Hell, I could bring Alan with me and you could show off the observatories.”

He had to smile at the thought. Watching the stars with Alan was one of his favourite pastimes, to be able to show his brother the best in star watching technology would perhaps be the biggest bonus of the trip. 

“Don’t let a fear of the unknown stop you from jumping in.” Scott grinned, his shoulder bumping John’s lightly, “You might love it.” 

“You sound like Dad.” 

Scott laughed as he stood, “Yeah, a few people have told me that recently.” 

Pausing on the top step as he frowned again, “And I wouldn’t worry about being on your own, doesn’t Dad have a friend over in London? That Lord guy?” 

“Yeah,” John nodded, suddenly remembering himself, “Yeah he does.” 

“So, you gonna go?” 

Taking a breath, he straightened his shoulders. His chest still felt heavy with the fear of not knowing what would come next. Scott seemed to have every faith though, and John knew he needed to have the same sort of faith in himself. 

“Yeah.” He swallowed, finally smiling as he looked up to his big brother, “I’m going to Oxford.”

[domistique]

imploring the people to see what i see his soft and round and plumpness.... his radiance.... like a benevolent princess greeting his subjects..... via [2]

[ceaselesslyinlove]

“you look distinguished. but then again you always have” pen can’t help but compliment him even after everything in that first episode it’s so sweet 🥹😭

[acearohippo]

I love fandoms, especially witnessing what fans take away from source material and how fans interpret it based on their experiences. Not to mention the stark difference of interaction between new fans, casual fans, experienced fans, and long-term fans.

I say this because the SVSSS fandom has continuously fascinated me in insisting in discussions that there are parallels between Shen Jiu and Luo Binghe (tell don't show), but in their fanworks, I just see parallels between Luo Binghe and Yue Qingyuan (show don't tell).

And it's not even (fully) a case where they're blending character personalities because they want what the other dynamic has, it's just how the characters are based on canon in two different timelines.

All of this to say, perhaps original draft PIDW (NOT original!PIDW nor pre!SY PIDW which are completely different) was supposed to revolve around the dynamic between SJ and YQY vs SJ and LBH. Perhaps YQY was to be the last hour mastermind, the true foil to LBH.

And fandom is just circling this idea without realising it because, once again, the unreliable narrator that is SY has already convinced this fandom that any version of SJ has to be a/the villain, regardless if it's through his own actions or baseless rumours.

Warning, run-on sentence ahead.

I don't know, mans, but it's gotta mean something that LBH and YQY have such similar life beats of being orphaned and having a tough life but remaining kind/compassionate because they had someone to live for until they didn't which left them empty until they found (or refound in YQY's case) one (1) man to obsess over in an uncomfortably intrusive way with no regards for his feelings and rejections, eventually reaching a position as the most powerful being in existence with a huge caveat that their sword is 83% of that power and is slowly killing them which did nothing to soften said man of their obsession's into showing them kindness leading to the ultimate confrontation between the two in which only one could survive and keep their obsession, not that it mattered because neither of them got to experience his feelings reciprocated, except in another timeline where the same things are happening until their obsession suddenly stops rejecting their (still intrusive) advances even if he is acting a bit silly, but hey take advantage while you can and take advantage they did because now they have that reciprocated feeling (except one still "won" as he gets to keep him for himself) and be thankful that all it took was, in their perspective, a near death fever that drastically changed his personality and most likely left him crippled in some other way, preventing their obsession from not NOT needing them anymore, all-in-all fulfilling their desire to be relied upon again, hooray! 😋😁✌🏽

In all seriousness, at the end of the day people are going to draw connections between characters that fit whatever narrative they understood from the story. SVSSS fandom just seems to be trying to convince others of one narrative while believing on a deeper level of another narrative. It's amusing and makes following the fandom fun.

[fighting-naturalist]

idk i just thought he looked real pretty lit like this 🤷‍♀️

[greenleaf4stuff]

In Convenience - Chapter 4, part 2

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage to marriage of love AU, post story snippet 4, part 2. The two husbands continue to have a lovely time together, Celebrimbor gets his hair washed as well, and the two then spend time in front of the warm fireplace.

As in the last part - these two are bathing, so there is nudity, but it is casual and mostly implied. Nothing more than kissing happens.

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience" and "In Convenience")

Fun fact: This chapter was originally meant to be chapter 5. What changed? Well, the original chapter 4 was a 5+1 concept and grew a bit too long to post as one continuous piece. So, I will likely go on a little side quest, and post that 'chapter' as its own thing in the future. Still part of this 'verse, no worries, but not as a single chapter of In Convenience.

Another big Thank You to all my readers, for everyone who has left a like, reblog or comment on tumblr, a kudos or a comment on AO3, who sent me messages. Your support means a lot to me, I still cannot believe how far we've come together. <3

Turning around was easier this time, but they still couldn’t avoid more water spilling over as they did. The floor was a lost cause anyways; they would only have to take care not to slip once they finally left the tub again.

Celebrimbor had feared their differing heights and the space at their disposal might make it difficult for Adar to wash his hair, but he was glad to be mistaken – once they sat down, the uruk bid the elf to lay back against him, and then used the bowl to wet Celebrimbor’s hair as he had done to the other.

He used smaller amounts of water at once, and poured it more slowly than the elf had done, letting the liquid run over Celebrimbor’s head and back, as well as over Adar’s shoulders and front. It made the smith imagine a gentle stream, or a waterfall. Made him daydream of taking Adar outside the city walls one day to bathe in the wilderness with him, perhaps during the height of summer.

Now, he merely closed his eyes and felt Adar’s hands in his hair, stroking back his locks with gentle fingers. He was much faster in making progress than Celebrimbor had been, since the elf wore his hair much shorter than the uruk did, but that only meant he could take more time to spend on other things instead.

After Adar had put away the bowl, and before he reached for the soaps, the uruk buried the fingers of both of his hands in Celebrimbor’s hair and began to rub small, even circles into his scalp. Motions that made the elf practically melt into Adar’s chest, and breathe sighs of contentment.

He questioned how he had gotten his husband to lean forward and sit up earlier; the elf felt utterly reluctant to move a single muscle, and was glad that Adar’s strength meant the uruk could gently push and arrange Celebrimbor’s body to his liking without much strain.

Adar easily lifted Celebrimbor up from his chest, and held him steady as the elf raised up his knees and then went to hug them to his front, in a position very similar to the one his husband had adopted earlier.

"That good, huh?" The uruk rumbled, obviously pleased at how languid and pleasantly weighed down Celebrimbor felt. The elf hummed and nodded into his knees. It afforded him a fond chuckle from Adar.

"Very good, yes," he replied, voice mellow, feeling like he should put his pleasure into words. "You have very gentle fingers, and large, steady hands. Your touch is very nice. It comforts me greatly."

Adar moved forward, then, to press his front to Celebrimbor’s back. He stroked his hands up and down the elf’s upper arms and shoulders, pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I am very glad to hear it." His voice was quiet, intimate. It made the smith open his eyes and peak at the other, and they shared small smiles among themselves before Adar drew back and began to take stock of the soaps.

It was a relatively small selection, and yet the elf watched raptly as Adar took up each bar, carefully considered it, turned it in his hands, smelled it. The way he scrunched up his nose at the rose-scented one made the elf smile quietly.

The uruk finally settled on the same sage-scented soap that Celebrimbor had used on him. The thought that they would both smell similarly after this bath was a rather welcome one.

Adar was just as thorough about putting the soap into the elf’s hair as he had been with pouring the water. He meticulously took small sections that he lathered up, moving from one to the next, starting with the hair just over the smith’s neck up and making his way up to the top of his head.

The elf shivered a little when Adar worked around his nape, behind his ears, close to his jawline. He hadn’t known himself to be so sensitive there, that the uruk’s touch would make his skin tingle this way.

The other once more took his time to card gentle fingers through Celebrimbor’s curls, to rub his fingertips over the elf’s scalp. Soft sage scent wafted through the air, mixing with the woodsmoke from the fireplace. It lulled the elf into a sense of ease, of security, turned him pliant as Adar retrieved the bowl and tipped his head back to rinse out the suds again.

Celebrimbor’s eyes were half-lidded as he let Adar take care of him, thoughts a little fuzzy, but in a very good way. He simply enjoyed the touches from the other, the fact that they finally had the time to enjoy one another’s company again.

When Adar was done rinsing his hair, the uruk also took the oils from besides the tub, though this time, he lightly nudged a bottle against Celebrimbor’s shoulder and waited for the elf to open his eyes – when had he closed them? – before he admitted, "I am not sure which one would be suitable for you. What oil should I use?"

The elf’s arm felt heavier than usual, with how relaxed he was, but he managed to lift it and pointed at a small bottle. "This one should be fine. It’s not quite as rich as the one I used on you. You can rub it into all of my hair."

The uruk nodded. "Then that is what I shall do," and kissed Celebrimbor’s temple before he reached for the bottle. He easily coaxed the smith back against his chest again, and then simply moved the elf’s head to and fro as he rubbed the oil into his hair.

The water had been nice, the soap had been wonderful, but the oil felt magnificent. The elf could only hope that Adar had experienced even a fraction of the comfortable, simple pleasure he felt, in the moments when it had been Celebrimbor’s turn to take care of him.

This had been a very good idea.

"I agree," Adar replied, and the elf realized that he had said the words aloud instead of merely thinking them. "One we might hopefully repeat, sooner rather than later."

Celebrimbor merely smiled and nodded, before he turned his head into Adar’s collarbone and pushed himself into his husband’s chest, wholly at ease despite the tight space. Or maybe, because of it.

Everything was warm and quiet, and he was close to the one he loved. What a fine way to spend the evening. What a wonderful way to simply be.

Once more, water dripped over his head and into his hair. The elf could already feel the difference in how it felt, how any little knots and tangles had been worked out of it, how the oil made it smoother to the touch.

He and Adar both would have liked to remain in this position for longer, Celebrimbor was sure; the uruk playing with his hair, the elf holding the other’s hand – the one that was usually gauntleted – and caressing it as they enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere of the room. But the sun was beginning to dip beneath the horizon outside now, and they would have a very long, very exciting day tomorrow.

Also, the water was slowly starting to cool.

As Adar began to gently nudge him into a sitting position again, the elf used the moment to try and turn once more. Their knees knocked, some water splashed, and he had to kneel before the other, but eventually he managed to cup Adar’s cheeks and bring the two of them together for a soft, chaste kiss.

The other’s wet, curling hair tickled Celebrimbor’s nose, and he sighed when Adar linked his own hands behind the elf’s head and drew him closer, both of them shifting to wrap their arms around each other’s shoulders. They were pressed chest to chest, where they felt each other’s breaths, their heartbeats, slow and steady.

Resting their foreheads against each other felt like utter perfection.

"Come on, Tyelpe," Adar’s voice was a whisper, intimate, coaxing. "I am not sure you can prune, but I am definitely starting to."

Celebrimbor’s answering laughter was sweet and unrestrained. "Well, can’t have that, can we? I don’t think you’d make for as good a raisin as you make for an uruk," he chuckled, kissed Adar’s lips once more, and then moved to rise from his position. He extended a hand towards the other as he stood. "Also, you make a good point – we have some warm towels can wrap ourselves in instead. Or a bathrobe, if you’d prefer."

Adar took his hand and let himself be helped up. He looked over to where the aforementioned towels lay, then turned his questioning gaze towards Celebrimbor. "There is only one robe?"

The elf shrugged and scratched his cheek, a little embarrassed. "I didn’t plan to actually join you in this tub, if you remember. So I merely prepared a towel for my hands and arms, nothing more."

A pause. "Rest assured, I certainly won’t be making that mistake a second time." And he winked.

The uruk’s returning grin was wry, but in good humor, as he stepped out of the tub and then steadied Celebrimbor as he did the same. Thankfully, the ground wasn’t quite as slippery as they had feared. "I should hope so," he replied, and then motioned towards the bathrobe with his chin. "You should take the robe, two towels will be perfectly adequate for me."

"Nonsense," the elf tried to rebuke him, albeit very gently. "I planned this evening to be for your benefit, if you want the robe, you should have it. I am alright with using a towel," he made to reach for it, hoping the settle the matter before it began, but a small tug from Adar kept him barely out of reach.

The elf turned back to his husband with a raised eyebrow. The uruk still grinned, but shook his head. "Not so fast."

Celebrimbor tilted his head and cocked his hip as he looked at Adar over his shoulder. "So what do you propose, then? That we share the robe?"

Adar’s expression changed to one of surprise, then intrigue, and before the elf could argue that he was merely joking, he had reached around the smith and retrieved the robe himself. "It is certainly worth giving it a try."

And giving it a try they did; of course, both of them together had no way of fitting inside the robe, whether they both only stuck one arm into a sleeve each, or if one fully put on the robe and tried to close it around the other, neither quite worked.

What did, however, was them both draping themselves onto the chaise lounge close to the fireplace, Adar wearing the robe and laying back with Celebrimbor resting on his chest, covered by a large towel that almost acted as a blanket, hands underneath the uruk’s bathrobe at his sides. Adar, in turn, had his own on Celebrimbor’s back and enjoyed feeling out his muscles, just shy of tickling the other.

Celebrimbor enjoyed this position, too. His head cushioned on his husband’s pecs, he could hear every breath. He merely had to turn his head to place a kiss right above Adar’s heart, and could feel the other suck in air and shiver whenever he did.

They watched the fire dance in the fireplace, and how the last rays of the sun finally disappeared, making way for a clear, dark, sky-lit night.

The fireplace ensured that the two of them could remain as they were for quite some time, or at least, what felt like a long time, simply holding each other, skin pressed against skin.

"How are you feeling?" Celebrimbor asked, voice slow and quiet. He himself felt at peace, though there were some thoughts at the back of his mind that were nagging at him.

The uruk hummed, and laid his hand to the back of the elf’s neck, where he began to stroke his thumb through Celebrimbor’s hair and over his skin. The touch made the elf burrow deeper into Adar’s hold. "Warm. Comfortable. At peace."

"Happy."

This caused Celebrimbor to lift his head, and prop up his chin on Adar’ chest. He stared at the other in surprise, then joy, as a smile spread over his face. "I am very glad to hear that."

The uruk’s answering smile was smaller, but no less fond. His hand moved to Celebrimbor’s cheek and stroked his thumb just under his eye, then next to his mouth, tracing the dimples there. It made the elf tilt his head until his cheek was pressed to the uruk’s palm as he continued to look at him. Marveling how the other did indeed look very relaxed and at ease.

"How about you?" Adar gave the question back to Celebrimbor. "I know tomorrow’s celebrations have been keeping you occupied the last few days."

The elf sighed, quietly. The uruk’s continued caress of his face helped him settle and kept the worry from showing on his features. Most of it, in any case.

"They have," he confirmed, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his expression was a bit more serious, almost but not quite pensive yet. "Do not get me wrong, I am very much at ease right now. And I am looking forward to...parts of tomorrow’s events. But with how much has been put into their planning, what they represent, I fear I find myself a little nervous as well, truth be told."

He gently took a hold of Adar’s wrist and held onto it. The other looked at him with a contemplative expression. "I think I understand. I, too, am both in favor of the feast’s message to our people, and what it represents. Partaking in it is rather daunting thought, however."

The smith smiled, and nodded, glad to be understood. He raised himself up and inched higher on Adar’s body, who curled his arm around Celebrimbor’s back and pulled him up easily, until the two of them were close enough for their noses to touch.

Their mouths found each other in a small kiss, and then they rested their foreheads against one another once more. "We are of the same mind, it would seem." Again, he brushed Adar’s hair from his face, fingers carding it back before he tucked it behind the uruk’s ear, then cupped his cheek. "That is a great relief. I would not wish to seem ungrateful. Or that I don’t enjoy the opportunity to show how much you mean to me."

Adar rubbed their noses together. "Rest assured, I have no reason to question your feelings. Or the truth of your sentiments," he said, voice low and gentle. His steadfastness was calming the elf like few other things could. "You needn’t worry I might take this the wrong way. We both feel similarly on this matter."

The uruk kissed the space between Celebrimbor’s eyebrows, long and slow, then drew back to search his eyes. "But as you said – we are going to face that day together, and the future it will be celebrating as well. It is the thought behind it all that counts, not the celebrations themselves. Our victory, the peace, our marriage, are separate from all that. We can appreciate those even without looking forward to the long-winded speeches, the music and the amount of people who will be there."

The elf nodded, and sought another small kiss. "That is very true," he replied. "I am sure it will not be nearly so bad as we fear, either. We have just spent too much time in the shadow of it to see that, now. But perhaps tomorrow will change that."

"That...is certainly a possibility," the uruk conceded, though he still sounded skeptical. "We shall wait and see."

Celebrimbor merely nodded in response. The two gazed at each other some more, before the elf sat up and looked at another selection he had prepared. There was still one more thing left he’d hoped to do with Adar, if the other might be amendable to the idea.

He looked down at the other and smiled softly. Shyly, he asked, "If you’d like...I have prepared some brushes and combs as well. I could brush your hair for you, if you’d permit me."

Adar was a beautiful sight, the way he was spread across the chaise, body pliant, face looking up at Celebrimbor. His wild, freshly washed hair spread around him, bathrobe open and showing his broad chest. The elf couldn’t help but reach up and stroke a hand up and down the space, fingertips moving over scar tissue and hard muscle.

The uruk looked up at him with a soft expression and quirked lips, and then nodded as he also rose up to sit. His arms found their way around Celebrimbor’s hips. "You need no permission from me, Tyelpe – you know you always have that."

"But yes, if wish to do so, I’d quite like it if you brushed my hair for me. Thank you for offering."

The elf smiled brightly in response. "Always, Adar. Always."

Having moved out of the tub meant no more risk of spilled water, and the lounge was a comfortable size for the both of them to occupy. This time, it was Celebrimbor who guided Adar where to sit, with his back turned to Celebrimbor and facing the warm fireplace, while the elf sat behind him, wrapped in the towel and with a brush in his hand.

He started from the bottom up, small increments, much like when Adar had applied the soap to the elf’s hair. Between his earlier ministrations, there were few tangles left thankfully, but the few that persisted he lovingly took the time and patience to work through, careful not to pull too much.

The results, as they started to become apparant, were quite gratifying – the uruk’s tresses looked shiny and smooth, slightly wavy from the damp and a natural curl to his hair, and in Celebrimbor’s opinion, no less impressive than any elf’s.

Without being aware of it, he had put the brush away, and was once more moving his fingers over the thick hair in front of him. Something in him itched to touch it more, the feeling of it against his fingers sending pleasurable sparks through him, alongside a feeling of warmth and comfort.

Before he even knew he’d started to do it, he had separated some of the hair into portions and was starting to braid them into each other. Losely, not with any intention to have this go anywhere, but-

He stopped, and tried to gauge Adar’s reaction. The uruk seemed wholly at ease still, but the elf remembered how the other had reacted to wearing and seeing himself in elven robes. Would this be similar to that? And if the uruk used their hair as tokens, would that also illicit a reaction of some kind in him, if Celebrimbor braided his hair?

Carefully, apprehensive of disturbing the serenity that had fallen over them, he put a hand onto Adar’s shoulder and stroked the skin there before he spoke. "I...would braiding be okay, too?" He sounded as unsure as he felt. Adar’s head turned just slightly back towards him, not enough for the elf to make out any expression on his face.

"I don’t mean to impose. I just got carried away a little, I think. After the robes, and what you told me about hair in uruk culture, I wouldn’t- I want this to be a nice experience for you. For the whole evening."

Adar still kept his face slightly turned away. Perhaps he was mulling Celebrimbor’s words over. Then, he reached over his shoulder and caught the smith’s hand as he offered it to his husband. Gentle fingers rubbed his knuckles, and then the hand was pulled up to Adar’s mouth for a small kiss.

"Always so good to me, so quick to learn of my needs and discomforts – and so considerate to meet them," he murmured, and then finally turned back further. His face was soft, still, and Celebrimbor felt a weight be cast off his shoulders. "I am not sure how much I’d wish to see the result of it, but the braiding itself feels quite calming."

Now, he looked a little unsure as well. "Would that be alright for you?"

Celebrimbor smiled, moved closer, and hugged Adar from behind. The uruk easily caught both of his hands and held onto them as he tilted his head back, pressed their cheeks together. The elf nodded lightly. "Absolutely. I just want you to enjoy this – all of this. That would give me the most amount of happiness. And you, hopefully, as well."

"You needn’t worry about that," Adar replied, and Celebrimbor could feel the smile that came over the other’s face. "You have made me feel...safe, and comforted, and very loved this evening, Tyelpe. You always do."

The elf felt as if his heart was swelling inside his chest, ready to burst, and he wound himself more tightly around Adar as a result. The kisses he pressed into Adar’s cheek and jaw were the shape of smiles. "That is because I do love you."

"I know," the other replied, and turned to bring their mouths together. "I love you, too."

Celebrimbor could have wept with the beautiful simplicity of the other’s words. As it was, he poured himself into their current kiss, and only reluctantly drew back afterwards. He felt so full, of affection, and fondness, and contentment. To the brim and beyond it – overflowing.

The elf sat far more closely, this time, as he focused on Adar’s hair again. He made a larger, soft braid down the middle, reaching from between Adar’s ears at the back of his head down to the bottom, and a few smaller ones at the sides. He did not tie either of them, quite content to let them come loose and undo themselves during the night. He only hoped the shape of the braids would give Adar a few more lovely curls to his hair, perhaps.

His hands busied themselves touching Adar’s shoulders and back, afterwards. The uruk was once more just moving into his every caress. Occasionally, a noise escaped him that made the elf smile at the other’s audible enjoyment.

"Should we move to the bed?" He finally asked, voice low, and placed a few kisses on Adar’s shoulder, small and light, as he stroked his flank. The other merely hummed. "I think we both could use some rest."

"Don’t you want me to braid your hair as well?" the uruk asked. He sounded quite drowsy, which made Celebrimbor chuckle and move to Adar’s side, to press a kiss to his temple.

"Perhaps another time. Come, you are about to fall asleep sitting up, I can tell."

It wasn’t that Celebrimbor couldn’t carry the other to bed if necessary; he was in fact convinced to be capable of such a feat, but if the other was capable of walking, he’d rather let him move by himself for now. He wasn’t yet sure how Adar would take to being carried, and would rather attempt it when the other was more fully awake.

Which was how he found himself helping Adar stand up from the chaise, holding both his hands before he lead him to their shared bedroom. The uruk let himself be guided along easily, pliantly, and with his eyes half-closed. Celebrimbor was walking backwards, careful not to bump into any walls or furniture.

The change of their location was accompanied by good humor as well, with the elf going so far as to take off the bathrobe, throw back the covers and fluff up the pillow before he coaxed Adar into laying down, after which he walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in himself.

The two of them soon found one another again in the center of their shared bed. It was Adar who reached out and pulled Celebrimbor across with a hand around the elf’s middle, until they were flush, chest to chest. The uruk did not take long to arrange the smith in his arms, holding him from behind, upper leg slung over Celebrimbor’s and arm around him, nose at the elf’s nape.

Celebrimbor readily let the other mold himself against him, smiled as Adar came to rest. As he linked their fingers together, he noticed that they had forgotten to put on their rings again – but no matter. They could always do so again in the morning.

Despite the day ahead, Celebrimbor felt pleasantly sleepy, as if his worries had been washed away. Not by soap, but Adar’s words, his steadying presence. With that pleasant thought, he burrowed back into the warmth of his husband, and closed his eyes. Rest found both of them easily that night.