Halbrand X Reader - Tumblr Posts
I haven’t watched Rings of Power yet, but I love this fanfic. ❤️
Please like the original post by the author.
into darkness // halbrand, sauron.
summary: galadriel knows, and halbrand is running out of time. but he has one last card to play.
content warning: minors do not interact, gender neutral and female bodied reader, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, biting, corruption.
word count: 2k
All you can remember is his hand gripping your arm with a strength that had your entire body shivering, a few words whispered into your ear and his heavy footsteps leading you to the bedroom the elven king gifted him during his stay here in Eregion. You could have told him to stop: that his nails digging in your skin hurts, that he doesn’t have to walk that fast — but you didn’t. Torn between anxiety and excitement, you obediently followed the man you’ve ever had eyes for, not asking a single question.
Door locked, thick silence surrounded you both for a few seconds before he finally let go of your arm, cupping your face with his hands — Ridiculously big for a face as small as yours. They could crush you in a matter of seconds if he wanted to, strong and skilled, rough and crafted by the god — or the evil — himself.
‘You said you’d follow me wherever I go.’ Breaking the silence, he dares to ask, even if there is not a single trace of hesitation in his voice. He shouldn’t be asking questions he knows the answer to, yet, it doesn’t seem like he cares anymore.
‘I will,’ you whisper, blinded by both admiration and love for the man standing right in front of you. It was stupid, wasn’t it? To fall for someone you barely know. Someone you met a few weeks ago — Someone who seemed to care for that elf, anyone, but you. You had to beg to come with them, to let your dignity vanish in the air for a man who would barely look at you, as if you weren’t good enough for him. As if you didn’t exist in his world.
But now, things have changed. His eyes boring into your soul, his hands caressing your cheeks, the corner of his lips gently raised into the softest of smiles. A smile just for you, no one else, just for once. And your heart dropped as soon as his lips crashed on top of yours — a messy and filthy kiss where his teeth sank into your flesh, where his tongue invaded your mouth without warning and where his hand on your nape didn’t allow you to push him away. It’s all lips and teeth, a kiss so vile you can barely follow the rhythm, butterflies swirling around in your stomach and gifting you with a warmth you’ve never felt before.
‘I knew you would be the only one to understand me. I knew you’d be perfect.’ His words, sweet and poisonous, had your heart missing a beat. Your head is spinning, blood creeping up your cheeks as you slightly open your mouth, only for your words to flee, leaving you breathless.
‘Perfect… For what?’ You gather enough courage to ask, voice breaking halfway through your sentence, completely clueless. In the mean time, Halbrand led you to the bed, in the center of the room. With his hands on your shoulders, he only had to apply a slight pressure for you to sit on it, his tall right in front of you.
‘To be my queen.’ It made you feel stupid, how he said those words with such ease… Like it was such an obvious choice for him. His hands were already working on the buttons of your robe, getting rid of them one by one as you stand there, in utter shock. Eyes wide, throat dry, his words echo in your mind over and over again until you can process them.
Oblivious, it was a mistake from your part to see yourself as the queen of the Southlands. But that sounded so nice to ear, so nice to feel it roll on your tongue — Queen of the Southlands. What he has in mind is polar opposite, but why would he shatter your hopes and dreams when you look so pretty in your own disillusion?
In a ridiculously short amount of time, your body is fully exposed to him. And for a moment, Halbrand realizes there is still purity in this world, something he can’t wait to pull into the darkness of his own being. His eyes are everywhere all at once: Your swollen lips from the messy kisses you two shared, your pretty neck that begged to me marked.
You’re too stunned to help him undress himself, but your eyes wouldn’t miss a single second of that show he puts on for you. You didn’t even blink once, muttering a few incoherent words to yourself — Too drunk, too intoxicated to really understand what is going on.
Kneeling on the bed, the mattress sinks ever so slightly because of his weight, his tall figure now right in between your thighs. Seated on his heels, the palm of his hands gently creeps up your legs, stopping on your knees so they could spread you wide open just for him. It feels like your lungs are on fire, unable to keep the air they’re so desperately longing for as his eyes fall on your gorgeous face once again.
The tip of his cock prods at your entrance, pulling the softest gasp out of your parted lips — He wants more. He needs more of it. And it takes all of his damn strength not to ruin you on the spot, not to wreck your body until there’s nothing but blood and bones left.
‘I’ll be gentle, I promise.’ An other lie, enough to soothe your fear. The soft kisses he left on your ankle are delicate, almost too gentle to feel real and sincere. But in the mindset you’re in, the red flags are way too far to be seen. Why the sudden change of allegiance? Why does he suddenly care so much about you? Why you, and not an other? So many rational questions you forgot to ask yourself. So many answers that could have saved your soul.
Slowly, his hips move forward, guiding his cock with his right hand to fill you all nicely. It stings and it hurts, it has your body shaking and your eyes rolling at the back of your skull, fingers tightly gripping the sheets beneath you for leverage. Eyes fluttered shut, you can only sob when he finally bottoms out, the feeling of being so full, overwhelming. Halbrand leans forward, his lips finding your closed eyelids only for them to kiss the thin layer of skin. He hasn’t moved yet, waiting for your body to relax to finally ruin you. He’s patient, and waiting a few more seconds won’t be the death of him, after centuries of standing in the shadow.
‘Look at me.’ He mutters, his hand gripping your hip and keeping you in place when you tried to move underneath him. His hold is strong, so strong it pins you down and you’re unable to move anymore. So you do as you’re told, weakly opening your eyes, met with a blurry vision of the man you’re bonded to.
With a simple nod of your face, he knows. Rocking his hips against yours, his face soon disappears in the crook of your neck, a fight of lips, tongue and teeth biting, sucking and licking hot flesh of yours. His cock drags against your gummy walls, only the tip of it still inside before he thrusts back in, rough and fast. It steals the air off your lungs, moans shamelessly tumbling out of your mouth, a whisper of his name and a few meaningless babbles.
Legs wrapped around his hips and fingers messily gripping a fistful of his hair, you let him murder that innocence you’ve been keeping with you for so long, replaced by a darkness you can’t even see yet.
‘Say you’ll be mine forever. Say it.’ He spits, bitterness in his voice as he gets back on his knees, your bare body on full display for his filthy eyes. His right hand wrapped around your throat like the most glorious collar you’ll ever wear, he’s applying enough pressure for you to gasp out loud, obstructing your windpipes until you can no longer breathe. Your hands hopelessly find his, eyes watering from the pressure as his thrusts become more and more erratic, bringing you closer to your downfall. And you clench around him, so vile it has him grunting from the sudden tightness.
‘I will— I swear I will,’ you cry, strangled sob leaving your lips as his hand finally lets go of your throat, heading south and gripping your breast.
‘You’ll rule middle earth with me, and you’ll never escape from me. If you ever try, I will burn that sweet village of yours down.’ Those eyes of him, darkened by desire and hatred, are nothing but the gates of hell. His scorching touch a mere taste of what is yet to come. But you nod, pathetically, almost way too fast. Fat tears falling down your cheeks, he relishes in the way you’re slowly breaking down, not even bothering to fight anymore.
And when his cock bumps against that particular spot, you’re done for — And you’ve never experienced something as devastating, as beautiful and as ravaging — It feels like a wildfire is spreading through your entire body, like you’re sent to a foreign world and for a moment, you can’t hear, see or feel anymore. A silent cry leaves your throat as your back arches painfully, the grasp he has on your hips so strong and cruel it will leave bruises and scratches for days. All you know is his name, and witnessing your own fall was something he never thought would happen so soon — so easily.
His hips stutter, then come to a full stop when he finally releases his fluid inside you, painting your walls white and soiling your insides in a low grunt. The pleasure he has felt had nothing to do with the one of the flesh — It was the one of corrupting such a pure and angelic soul, turning it into something dark and malevolent. Something fitting his twisted fantasies.
A queen of the darkness, of pain and nightmares. Anything but holy. Leaning forward, his forehead against yours, an evil smirk pulls the corner of his lips up — a grin that sent shivers down your spine, that made you feel so uncomfortable you wish you could have run away from here, as far as possible.
taglist: @idwtet @killsandthrills @missscarlett1802 @sleepingpillsworld @kryss-tethras @atruthuniversallyunacknowledged @bookfrog242
Another good story. Again, please like the original post by the author.
Light In The Shadows
gif made by me
pairing: halbrand/sauron x fem!reader
summary: you needed to do something before the darkness fully consumed you too, you only wished things could have turned out differently
warnings: heavy angst, slight allusions to sex, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, major character death, toxic relationship, heartache, no happy endings here
word count: 706
this can be read as a stand-alone but i highly recommend reading part 1 first
a/n: i might make an alternate ending to this fic because this is really dark lmao so keep an eye out for that
friendly reminder that comments and reblogs are just as (if not more than) important as likes!
You were becoming what you swore you would not.
Years by his side in his dark realm had proven one thing and one thing only, there was no saving him. His delusions about saving Middle Earth were too strong, stronger than even his feelings for you.
Every second you spent beside him you felt the darkness trying to take a hold of you. Your heart was darkening, your lust for power growing as each day passed by.
But you still loved him. Despite it all.
Keep reading
Halbrand stories are something.
thorn and blood // halbrand, sauron.
summary: the veil has been lifted. the man you loved ever so dearly and the evil you feared are one, shattering your heart in millions of pieces. two options have to be considered: leaving your people to follow the person that deceived you yet makes you feel alive, or staying behind. but when sauron is met with nothing but disappointment, things take an unexpected turn.
content warning: minors do not interact, female bodied reader, blood, mentions of death and trauma, manipulation, dubcon, p in v, biting, sauron deserves his own trigger warning.
word count: 2k
It’s sick and twisted. Lost paradise surrounded by darkness where hope and light vanished long ago. You can’t remember if what you see is real or not, you can’t even think rationally, emotionally drained. Saying no to him was a mistake, and you should have known better — You begged him to stop, a thousand times; at the sight of your lost ones, at the thoughts of them blaming you for their deaths. He was in your head, and nothing could have changed his will — Nothing, but a yes. A king needs his queen, and if you’re not able to give it to him willingly, then he will take it from you, one way or an other. It felt like tides were washing over you again and again, drowning you more and more every time without killing you still.
Tears and blood stained your cheeks, the sounds of your desperate cries music to his ears as he watched you kneel in front of him, clinging to his left leg and asking for forgiveness. You, who fought against the most powerful enemies, now reduced to a weakened soul, a brittle flame on the verge of dying. How many hours? How many days? It felt like months, years of torture. Yet, it took very few minutes to the dark lord to ruin your mind.
One knee on the ground, now face to face, he cupped your chin with his hand — a gentle touch that had you forgetting, for a second, your own downfall —, pushing back a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. The sight of your empty eyes, the pain and despair adorning your face, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in this world.
‘I’ll make you a queen— my queen. And all should bow at the sight of you’, his words taste like poison, breath fanning over your ear. Surrounded by chaos, flames engulfing earth, trees and skies, the stars are now long gone in the place he created for you with the strength of his twisted mind.
You can’t remember anything — How you got undressed, how he had you on his laps, seated on a throne you could barely see. But you weren’t wearing nothing — the crown made of thorns and twigs, sitting rightfully on top of your head, was the only attire you’ll ever need from now on. A faint gasp fell off your mouth when his cock parted your lips, pushing inside you with such ease you could have felt embarrassed if your mind wasn’t so clouded, still filled with the traumatic experiences you’ve been through. And it was so wrong, to feel at peace when you felt him bottoming out. You hated yourself for resting the back of your head on his toned shoulder, letting him do whatever he wanted with your sore body.
With your back flat against his chest and his arms keeping your legs wide open, forearms right under the fold of your knees, you were nothing but a puppet begging to be touched, to be filled by the man you oh so love and hate at the same time. Weren’t you the perfect prey? So pretty, so naive. So strong and feared by many. A perfect fit for the dark path he picked for you, a glorious toy for his own collection. An other slave willing to do anything just to please him.
Halbrand — that’s how you used to call him — started rocking his hips, back and forth, so painfully slow yet deep you had to arch your back to feel less full. But wasn’t it something that had to be done, in order to be his for an eternity of suffering? To be claimed, to be filled by him. His eyes would never leave your face, torn between pleasure and hatred.
Those eyes you couldn’t even see — thankfully. Anything but human, diving into darkness, red hue burning in the flames of hell. The whispers falling into your ear felt unfamiliar, foreign. A language as dark as the tongue spitting it out. A language that, in other circumstances, would have the hairs on your arms standing up in horror. But right now, in this very time and place, it had your eyes rolling at the back of your skull, right hand holding to his forearm for dear life. A pretty little thing, wrecked and corrupted.
Every time the tip of his cock would bump against that particular sweet spot of yours, your entire body would melt — Legs trembling, walls clamping down on him like a vice, a waterfall of tired moans falling off your mouth. It felt so wrong and so good at the same time, to stop fighting, to give up. To let your weapons fall on the filthy ground. It was nothing like someone could expect; slow and intimate, almost too sweet to be true; breaking his precious toy too fast would be way too easy, and the reward of witnessing you falling apart ever so slowly was a delightful thought, almost enough for him to cum on the spot.
‘Tell me you’ll be my queen— say it. Say you’ll rule middle earth with me.’ A soft kiss on the shell of your ear, one of his arm letting your leg go, just for his hand to travel south, nails of his —or were they claws, now?— scratching the skin of your belly, leaving a trail of scars and cuts, until his slender fingers found your aching clit.
‘I will,’ you sob, a pathetic little sound that had his lips twitching. Damn him, he even laughed at your face, and if you weren’t as lost as you were, you would have noticed. There was no hesitation in your voice, eyes struggling to stay open as heavy lids threaten to hide the burning world from you. And because you were so sweet, because you were so kind, a reward you should get. A particularly deep thrust, followed by the feeling of his middle finger rubbing your swollen bundle of nerves in slow circular motions. It has your head spinning and your entire body shaking, waves of electricity creeping up your body and fogging your cursed mind.
‘You’re mine, forever. And you’ll never escape from me.’ His teeth sink in the flesh of your shoulder, scarlet droplets falling down your arm and back, pulling the prettiest cry off your throat. A pain that had your walls clenching, fluttering around his cock as his thrusts became stronger and faster. And if it wasn’t for his arm holding you tight against him, you’d have fallen to your knees already, way too gone to steady yourself. Last strings of sanity vanishing in the air, you tipped off the edge, a firework exploding in your belly. Patches of color dance across your vision, a plethora of his name falling off your tongue like a deadly chant as you reach your high.
He lets you in your own fantasy, calling him with his made-up name, the one he won’t let you use anymore after this. He has this image of you imprinted in his mind; lost in the pleasure he’s given you, blood and dirt painted all over your body, too lost to think rationally, too scared to realize that you’ve made a pact with the devil. There’s a groan threatening to escape from his lips, too delighted by the beautiful sight of you, by your small hands gripping his — eager for his touch.
He gives it to you, the illusion of being loved, the dream of living a long and happy life with the one you’ve chosen. In one swift motion, his cock slowly leaves your warmth, bringing with it a feeling of loneliness and emptiness you’ve experienced way too many times. You could feel them, the tears creeping up your eyes, sitting so prettily on your lower lash line.
‘Sleep. Our travel will be long,’ the tears didn’t fall, but they are still there, eased by his stabbing words, for now. Exhausted, you can barely lift your head up to look at him one more time before falling head first into darkness. He’s just like he used to be — The same angel face, the same beautiful eyes. What if he changed? Foolish thoughts. But you can’t help but hold onto that hope.
Even in his most gentle moves, there’s a form of cruelty, of violence that no one could really explain. Lifting your wounded body with ease, he carries you in his arms, hiding your naked figure with a cape that barely hides anything from the world. Sauron isn’t one to care. Sauron is one to receive without asking, to get what he wants without a fight. And if he can’t love you, then you’ll take anything he could give you — Even if it means being enslaved. Even if it means losing the tiny shards of dignity you have left, as long as he sees you.
2022 halbravd
the way i loved the pain that came with this, wow 😫 your writing is amazing I CAN’T
As one (Sauron x fem!Elf! reader)
-> in which you sense that your husband is being tormented at Adar’s camp, and you join him through your bond to share in his burden from afar
Warnings: evil!reader, mentions of torture, basically reader takes some of his pain upon herself
Note: The evil!reader collection strikes again. Shout to this anon (again) for inspiring the Force-skype in this fic
It feels like a sickness, deep in your stomach. A piercing sense of dread made into bodily sensation, gnawing at your insides. Yet you know it is a mere echo of your husband’s pain, dulled a thousand times over before it reaches you from miles away through the bond you share.
Your beloved, you grimly realize, is suffering once more at the hands of Adar.
You are in Celebrimbor’s forge, carrying on with your duties as you would any other day when you feel it. It was one thing, pretending like you were not the wife of the Dark Lord himself, like you were nothing more than another smith working under Celebrimbor for the interminable years you had awaited your husband’s return to his physical form. But now that he had returned, and you had finally been able to touch and hold him again, it was nigh impossible to keep up the charade. Every inch of you longed to remain at his side every moment of every day, but you both knew your business in Eregion was not finished and the time had not yet come for you to reveal your true selves.
So, when Galadriel uncovered his treachery, you remained behind as he left for Mordor to plant the seeds which would result in Adar attacking Celebrimbor’s city, and his army becoming yours and Sauron’s. But at the moment, Adar still thinks your husband is Halbrand, King of the Southlands—and you can tell, from that sensation in your gut, that as expected, he has not received a warm welcome.
You are supposed to be giving shape to a piece of metal, but your movements become mechanical and your eyes unfocused as you reach out to your husband through your bond. The deeper your spirit delves towards his, the more his surroundings begin to take shape in your inner vision. You strive to carry on with your work as images flash before your eyes—dirty ground, shackles, Uruks laughing cruelly, an old man bringing down a bludgeon again and again, grinning in sinister enjoyment as he inflicts pain upon your husband, searing and merciless—
You are pushed away with a fury—directed not at you, but rather aimed at protecting you. The moment he senses your presence from afar, your husband strives to cut you off, refusing to let you experience any more than the fraction of his torment that you already have. Tears gather in your eyes, surely suspicious to any other smith in the forge who might happen to look your way, but you no longer care.
No, you think, focused only on resisting your husband’s attempts at keeping you at bay. No, let me be with you. Let us bear this burden together.
A wave of anguish rolls off him, pain of the flesh and frustration with you laced together, and it fuels a thrust of his power so mighty that it hurls you right back into yourself, staggering on your feet and dropping the hammer you were holding.
Celebrimbor calls your name from another worktable. You rush to wipe away the stray tears and compose yourself, picking the tool back up.
“Are you alright? What has happened?” Celebrimbor asks, frowning in concern as he comes to your side.
“Nothing,” you reassure him, managing the pleasant smile you’ve grown accustomed to plastering on your face over the years. “A slip of the fingers, that is all.”
Celebrimbor eyes you a bit suspiciously, but in the end gives a small shrug.
“Well then,” he says, laying a hand on your shoulder, “be careful you do not suffer an injury of the fingers.” He smiles amicably. “It would be a pity to be deprived of your talents, even for a short while.”
“Thank you, my lord,” you say gracefully, even as the words boil on your tongue. ‘My lord.’ You have only one Lord. And you should be standing at his side whilst Celebrimbor and all others address you as ‘my Queen’.
But all in due time. For now, you gather every ounce of patience within you until your work is finished for the day, and you are finally free to retire. Once in the privacy of your own chamber, you go straight to your bed and lie down, breathing deeply as you gather your concentration. This time, you intend to seek out your husband with every sliver of your conscience, not just a part of it, and you refuse to be forced away once more.
Eyes staring somewhere far beyond the ceiling, you caress the wedding band on your finger, murmuring an incantation in Black Speech to aid in this fuller transition. The bed feels as though it is falling away from you as you gracefully follow the thread connecting you to your husband. Where you expected resistance, however, only a sense of tired quiet greets you from his end. The door between you is shut, but not longer locked. You nudge at it, gently—and with the ghost of a sigh, it opens, allowing you in. You let yourself fall through, eyes fluttering shut as your body remains behind you, sound asleep in your bed to anyone who might see it.
But you are now sitting beside your husband, taking in his surroundings with as much clarity as if they were your own. They are dark and filthy, lit only by a few torches whose light reflects upon the stone walls. A warg lies chained close by, teeth bared and growling at your husband like it finds him as appetizing as you always do.
“Delightful company,” you remark flatly.
“It is now,” your husband says, his voice like nectar as he drinks in the sight of you. He is not fully pleased, however. “I did not wish for you to see this.”
“And yet you have been persuaded,” you tease.
“You were quite insistant in your request.” A smile tugs at his lips. “And I am quite unable to deny you.”
“This time, at least,” you say wryly, thinking of how callously he had banished your presence before. But any ire that might have caused you cannot help but melt at the sight of your husband in such a state. His face dirty, his beautiful lip cut and bleeding, his form chained to the wall with an iron collar around his throat as he is left to sit on the cold ground. It’s a tragedy, an outrage. It makes your heart quiver.
“Must you put yourself through this?” you ask softly, reaching out to hold one of his hands as they rest in his lap. You have some sensation of the touch, but it’s nowhere near as vivid and fulfilling as when you are together in body as well as spirit. No doubt as dismayed by this as you, your husband frowns as he looks down at your hands, intertwining your fingers tightly to wring every last drop of that phantom feeling.
“You know very well we need the Uruks to march upon Eregion,” he tells you. “For that, I need Adar’s ear. This is how I gain it.”
“Adar,” you all but growl, anger surging through you. Were your touch solid and real, your nails might have drawn blood from your husband’s skin with how furiously they dig into it. “One day, we shall watch him suffer the same fate he once forced upon you. Worse,” you add, your vicious gaze meeting his, “for it will be the very Uruks he holds so dear who shall slay him at our command.”
The same thirst for vengeance burns within his eyes. “On that day, it shall be my pleasure to hear that order from your lips, my love. For now, however...” His voice loses its fire, rueful but resigned. “I must simply endure.”
You shake your head vehemently. “No. Not you alone.” You can tell before he opens his mouth that he is doing so to protest, and you refuse to allow it. “Were those not the vows we swore?” you remind him in earnest. “No hurdle shall ever be too high, for we shall overcome it together?”
“Not like this,” he says grimly.
“Exactly like this,” you counter stubbornly.
For a moment, your eyes remain locked in a battle of wills. He knows what you are offering, and you know why he is refusing. It would be possible, through your bond, for you to share in his pain—and as any burden carried by two instead of one, only half of its weight shall be felt by each. But such a thing must be allowed to happen by the both of you, and while you are willing, your beloved still resists.
His gaze softens, seemingly in surrender.
“It is comfort enough,” he reassures in earnest, “that I may look upon your face now.”
“Not for me, it isn’t,” you’re quick to refute. However his softly-spoken words may tug at your heartstrings, you are not so easily assuaged. You lean in closer and cup his cheek, mourning how the sweet roughness of his stubble is dulled beneath your fingertips by the physical distance between you. “You know I can handle a little pain, my love,” you murmur, voice sweet and oh-so-alluring. “Allow me this gift, will you? Let us be one in torment as we so often are in pleasure.”
A low groan leaves your husband’s throat as he leans, fruitlessly, into the palm of your hand. “It is you who torments me now, my love,” he rasps out, eyes burning into yours, “for how greatly it pains me to sense your touch upon my skin, yet feel only the ghost of it.”
“Ghost?” a gruff voice shatters your moment. You pull away quickly, looking behind your husband. The wretched man who you had briefly glimpsed beating your beloved before has returned. “You talkin’ to ghosts now, your majesty?”
The scurge is mocking him, snorting out a hideous laugh. You regret that you are invisible to his eyes, for if he could see your glare, any trace of his mirth would wither and die. And shortly, so would he, if you were there in body to break his neck.
“Those are pretty words you’re tellin’ ‘em,” he goes on shamelessly. “Some poetry for a special lady, perhaps?”
Your husband clenches his jaw, refusing to turn his head and acknowledge the man’s presence. He narrows his eyes, frustrated by Halbrand’s silence.
“If you wanna get back to her, it’s simple enough. All you gotta do,” he crouches behind your husband, speaking lowly near his ear, “is tell ol’ Waldreg everything you know about Sauron.”
Oh, the irony.
Out of nowhere, your husband whips his head towards him, and Waldreg falls back with a startled yelp. You’d laugh if you weren’t so disgusted.
“Imbecile,” you mutter.
Waldreg scrambles to his feet, glaring daggers at your husband.
“Pain must be something you enjoy,” he taunts. As if summoned, a pair of Uruks join him from outside. One hands Waldreg a bludgeon whilst the other pulls at your husband’s chain. He groans as his head is yanked back, neck straining against the collar. His gaze meets yours briefly, and you are filled with such anguish and wrath, you cannot breathe. But you cannot do a thing, either, other than to keep your grip on his hand, diluted in feeling as it is, like a lifeline.
“After Lord Father releases me,” your husband growls, “I am going to kill you.”
Even as he speaks the threat, you feel his inner plea caress your mind—urging you to retreat back into yourself before you must witness what is soon to follow.
Waldreg snorts out a cruel chuckle. “Adar doesn’t even remember you are here!”
Heart pounding, you reach for your husband’s face, fingers sinking into his dirty hair as you lean over him so that your eyes are locked and you are all he sees.
“As one,” you beseech, baring your soul to him through your bond so he might feel the full might of your willingness, your craving to receive any sensation he might share with you, fair or foul.
He shuts his eyes, a tear escaping at the corner. And at last, overwhelmed by your endless devotion, he relents. He welcomes you into him wholly and pours himself into you in return, leaving the door wide open for the suffering that is to come to flow in between, each of you shouldering half of it.
The bludgeon begins to fall once more—and the pain is almost sweet when it tastes of your beloved’s soul bleeding into yours.
Next fic with same reader -> Jealousy
dress
halbrand/sauron x fem!human!reader
summary: it’s your last evening in númenor and you decide to wear a special outfit for the man you love.
warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, acting silly because of alcohol, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving)
word count: 1.4k
author’s note: well, do i have to say anything more about this? no. 🙂↕️ inspired by taylor swift’s song dress (one of my faves.) this is my first time writing smut, so i really hope it turned out well. likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. xx
It wasn't your intention to draw everyone's attention when you appear. You only wanted the attention of one person.
And you can feel his gaze on you, so hot that it literally burns your skin, but you don't let it show.
The dark red dress clings to your body and sparkles silver in the light of the fire. Your hair falls in soft waves over your shoulders and you know that everyone would fall to their knees at the sight.
But you only want to see him kneeling in front of you. With his hands and lips on your naked skin.
After a brief moment of silence, conversations start again and you slowly turn around, only to meet Halbrand's gaze, who is standing next to Galadriel a few meters away from you.
You know the effect you have on him, you can see it in his eyes even from the distance.
“This time you really surpassed yourself,” a voice sounds next to you and you tear your gaze away from Halbrand.
Smiling, you take the mug filled with ale, that Isildur holds out to you and take a sip.
“Someone told me to come out of my shell,” you reply and you both laugh.
“Since when have you been listening to my advice?” he asks, still with a smile on his lips.
You just shrug at his words and look at him with a grin as he puts an arm around your shoulder and pulls you towards the others.
The evening continues and you have stopped counting how many mugs of ale you have already had. You are just about to take another sip when someone takes the mug out of your hand.
“Hey...” you protest and look up at Halbrand, who is now holding your wrist. “That was definitely enough ale for today,” he says as he pulls you to your feet.
You giggle softly and sway slightly against his firm body. “I won't let you boss me around, handsome,” you say and pat his chest before you try to pull away from him again, but he doesn't loosen his grip.
“Oh, yes. You will,” he whispers and a shiver runs down your spine as he looks at you like a wolf that has finally caught its prey.
Without another word, he pulls you with him, away from the drinking soldiers and to a place where you would be undisturbed.
Before you know it, he's pressed you against the nearest wall and buries his nose in your hair. His hands wrap around your waist, caressing your skin through the fabric of the dress.
“You have no idea, how much control this evening has cost me. I wanted you the second I saw you in that dress,” he growls, now tucking your hair behind your shoulder, to give himself access to your neck.
His lips brush the sensitive skin there, making you hum as you close your eyes.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” Halbrand whispers against your skin and you shiver, a reaction he’s only too happy to see.
“That was your intention, wasn't it? You wanted to drive me crazy?” he continues and gently bites your neck, eliciting a soft moan from you.
“It's our last evening in Númenor, I thought a little distraction wouldn't hurt,” you whisper now, the effect of the ale suddenly replaced by the desire that shoots through your veins like fire.
The sound that comes from Halbrand is like that of an animal and he presses you a little harder against the wall.
“Did you see the looks they gave you?” he says close to your ear and lets his lips slide over your jaw. “Everyone wanted to rip that dress off your body.” With these words he lifts you up and turns with you.
Your lips meet in a wild, longing kiss, as if you were about to starve. You feel him take a few steps until your back hits wood. You moan, the sound swallowed by his mouth and his grip on you tightens.
The kiss becomes wilder, your tongues in an endless dance for dominance.
A surprised sound comes from your lips as he takes your lower lip between his teeth and pulls on it.
Finally, he turns away from the wall again and gently lays you down on something soft moments later.
You are apparently in his room. You don't know how you got here and you don't care, because all that matters to you at this moment, is Halbrand leaning over you.
“The only reason I'm wearing this dress is so you can take it off,” you breathe and place your hand on his chest. But Halbrand wraps his fingers around your wrist again and looks you in the eyes with a mischievous smile, before he takes the other one and holds both of them above your head.
“Oh, my sweet little girl. We're not there yet,” he whispers and starts to push the skirt of your dress up with his free hand.
Your breath catches and you try to turn your hands out of his grasp, but he holds them too tightly.
“Halbr-,” your words are cut off by a moan as he runs a finger through your wetness. Another growl escapes him and he nuzzles his nose against your cheek so that you feel the scratch of his stubble on your skin.
Without further warning, he pushes two of his fingers into you, making you moan loudly. He doesn't seem to want to make any secret of what's going on, just encourage you.
“Let me hear you,” he whispers, moving his fingers until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for more.
Then he releases his grip on your hands and slides down your body. Knowing what would follow, you bury your fingers in his long hair and close your eyes.
As his tongue slides through your folds, you moan and your hips jerk forward. Halbrand grabs you with his hands and holds you tight, so you can't move while he eats you out.
You long for release, you can hardly think straight anymore, but he doesn't seem to want to give it to you.
Just as you wanted to tease him with this dress, now this is him paying you back.
“Halbrand...” you moan his name loudly and he raises his head, leaving your throbbing cunt full of desire.
“Tell me what you want,” his voice sounds and you hear the rustling of fabric. “Tell me what you long for,” he continues and you sit up slightly.
“I want you,” you whisper, with all the strength you have left. Then Halbrand holds out his hand to help you up. His fingers immediately find the back of the dress, where he quickly unties the laces. As soon as the fabric loosens around your body, he pushes it over your shoulders, until it slides down of its own and reveals you to his gaze.
“You are…” he doesn't say anything else, just stares at you in awe as he pushes you back again and you look up at him.
His hand finds yours on the mattress and he laces his fingers with yours. With his other hand, he positions himself in front of you and slides the tip of his cock over your entrance.
With one fluid movement, he sinks into you and you can't help but let out a breathless gasp. The air leaves your lungs and you feel Halbrands' hand resting on the side of your face.
“You belong to me. Don't forget that,” he says with such devotion and yet so firm that your heart clenches in your chest.
“Forever,” you reply breathlessly as he starts to move. The feeling makes you moan and your eyes roll back as you arch towards him.
“Fuck,” he moans and lets his head fall forward. In this moment, there is only him and you and nothing could ever come between you.
Halbrand starts to move faster, hitting a spot that makes you moan whenever he moves his hips. It doesn't take long before you're screaming his name as the orgasm flows through your body like a wave.
The sight of you must have been enough for him, because not a second later he empties himself into you with a rough gasp and then sinks down on you.
“You're perfect,” you hear his voice between bliss and satisfaction and smile weakly.
You want to say something else, but you're too tired.
But you got what you longed for.
It was your last day on Númenor, after all. Soon you would be going to war.
2024 | notreallythatlost
Hiii. I'm looking for a way to define 'Dress' but I don't know... Can I just say 'perfect?' or is that an understatement?
HALBRAND, OH MY HALBRAND.
omg hii, thank you so much for your lovely words. i‘m glad you liked the fic. 🤍 i‘m literally obsessed with this man (how could you not be??) so there will definetely come more of him soon. xx
dress
halbrand/sauron x fem!reader
summary: it’s your last evening in númenor and you decide to wear a special outfit for the man you love.
warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, acting silly because of alcohol, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving)
word count: 1.4k
author’s note: well, do i have to say anything more about this? no. 🙂↕️ inspired by taylor swift’s song dress (one of my faves.) this is my first time writing smut, so i really hope it turned out well. likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. xx
It wasn't your intention to draw everyone's attention when you appear. You only wanted the attention of one person.
And you can feel his gaze on you, so hot that it literally burns your skin, but you don't let it show.
The dark red dress clings to your body and sparkles silver in the light of the fire. Your hair falls in soft waves over your shoulders and you know that everyone would fall to their knees at the sight.
But you only want to see him kneeling in front of you. With his hands and lips on your naked skin.
After a brief moment of silence, conversations start again and you slowly turn around, only to meet Halbrand's gaze, who is standing next to Galadriel a few meters away from you.
You know the effect you have on him, you can see it in his eyes even from the distance.
“This time you really surpassed yourself,” a voice sounds next to you and you tear your gaze away from Halbrand.
Smiling, you take the mug filled with ale, that Isildur holds out to you and take a sip.
“Someone told me to come out of my shell,” you reply and you both laugh.
“Since when have you been listening to my advice?” he asks, still with a smile on his lips.
You just shrug at his words and look at him with a grin as he puts an arm around your shoulder and pulls you towards the others.
The evening continues and you have stopped counting how many mugs of ale you have already had. You are just about to take another sip when someone takes the mug out of your hand.
“Hey...” you protest and look up at Halbrand, who is now holding your wrist. “That was definitely enough ale for today,” he says as he pulls you to your feet.
You giggle softly and sway slightly against his firm body. “I won't let you boss me around, handsome,” you say and pat his chest before you try to pull away from him again, but he doesn't loosen his grip.
“Oh, yes. You will,” he whispers and a shiver runs down your spine as he looks at you like a wolf that has finally caught its prey.
Without another word, he pulls you with him, away from the drinking soldiers and to a place where you would be undisturbed.
Before you know it, he's pressed you against the nearest wall and buries his nose in your hair. His hands wrap around your waist, caressing your skin through the fabric of the dress.
“You have no idea, how much control this evening has cost me. I wanted you the second I saw you in that dress,” he growls, now tucking your hair behind your shoulder, to give himself access to your neck.
His lips brush the sensitive skin there, making you hum as you close your eyes.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” Halbrand whispers against your skin and you shiver, a reaction he’s only too happy to see.
“That was your intention, wasn't it? You wanted to drive me crazy?” he continues and gently bites your neck, eliciting a soft moan from you.
“It's our last evening in Númenor, I thought a little distraction wouldn't hurt,” you whisper now, the effect of the ale suddenly replaced by the desire that shoots through your veins like fire.
The sound that comes from Halbrand is like that of an animal and he presses you a little harder against the wall.
“Did you see the looks they gave you?” he says close to your ear and lets his lips slide over your jaw. “Everyone wanted to rip that dress off your body.” With these words he lifts you up and turns with you.
Your lips meet in a wild, longing kiss, as if you were about to starve. You feel him take a few steps until your back hits wood. You moan, the sound swallowed by his mouth and his grip on you tightens.
The kiss becomes wilder, your tongues in an endless dance for dominance.
A surprised sound comes from your lips as he takes your lower lip between his teeth and pulls on it.
Finally, he turns away from the wall again and gently lays you down on something soft moments later.
You are apparently in his room. You don't know how you got here and you don't care, because all that matters to you at this moment, is Halbrand leaning over you.
“The only reason I'm wearing this dress is so you can take it off,” you breathe and place your hand on his chest. But Halbrand wraps his fingers around your wrist again and looks you in the eyes with a mischievous smile, before he takes the other one and holds both of them above your head.
“Oh, my sweet little girl. We're not there yet,” he whispers and starts to push the skirt of your dress up with his free hand.
Your breath catches and you try to turn your hands out of his grasp, but he holds them too tightly.
“Halbr-,” your words are cut off by a moan as he runs a finger through your wetness. Another growl escapes him and he nuzzles his nose against your cheek so that you feel the scratch of his stubble on your skin.
Without further warning, he pushes two of his fingers into you, making you moan loudly. He doesn't seem to want to make any secret of what's going on, just encourage you.
“Let me hear you,” he whispers, moving his fingers until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for more.
Then he releases his grip on your hands and slides down your body. Knowing what would follow, you bury your fingers in his long hair and close your eyes.
As his tongue slides through your folds, you moan and your hips jerk forward. Halbrand grabs you with his hands and holds you tight, so you can't move while he eats you out.
You long for release, you can hardly think straight anymore, but he doesn't seem to want to give it to you.
Just as you wanted to tease him with this dress, now this is him paying you back.
“Halbrand...” you moan his name loudly and he raises his head, leaving your throbbing cunt full of desire.
“Tell me what you want,” his voice sounds and you hear the rustling of fabric. “Tell me what you long for,” he continues and you sit up slightly.
“I want you,” you whisper, with all the strength you have left. Then Halbrand holds out his hand to help you up. His fingers immediately find the back of the dress, where he quickly unties the laces. As soon as the fabric loosens around your body, he pushes it over your shoulders, until it slides down of its own and reveals you to his gaze.
“You are…” he doesn't say anything else, just stares at you in awe as he pushes you back again and you look up at him.
His hand finds yours on the mattress and he laces his fingers with yours. With his other hand, he positions himself in front of you and slides the tip of his cock over your entrance.
With one fluid movement, he sinks into you and you can't help but let out a breathless gasp. The air leaves your lungs and you feel Halbrands' hand resting on the side of your face.
“You belong to me. Don't forget that,” he says with such devotion and yet so firm that your heart clenches in your chest.
“Forever,” you reply breathlessly as he starts to move. The feeling makes you moan and your eyes roll back as you arch towards him.
“Fuck,” he moans and lets his head fall forward. In this moment, there is only him and you and nothing could ever come between you.
Halbrand starts to move faster, hitting a spot that makes you moan whenever he moves his hips. It doesn't take long before you're screaming his name as the orgasm flows through your body like a wave.
The sight of you must have been enough for him, because not a second later he empties himself into you with a rough gasp and then sinks down on you.
“You're perfect,” you hear his voice between bliss and satisfaction and smile weakly.
You want to say something else, but you're too tired.
But you got what you longed for.
It was your last day on Númenor, after all. Soon you would be going to war.
2024 | notreallythatlost
i’m in love. truly. deeply. madly.
Reunion (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)
-> in which your husband finally returns from his time in Númenor, and you make the most of the first moment you get him alone
Warnings: evil!reader, mentions of injury, hot and heavy make out, slight choking, heavily suggestive dialogue, mentions of voyeurism
Note: same evil!reader as the others in the collection, but it should make sense on its own too.
He’s finally on his way to Eregion. And wounded. It’s been plain to see through your soulbond for days.
You can barely conceal your trepidation as you stand with Celebrimbor and Elrond, awaiting your husband’s arrival in Eregion. They do not know to expect it, of course—they believe Galadriel is long gone into Valinor, and they could never fathom that she is soon to ride through the gates with a man at her side, much less that he is the very darkness they seek to keep at bay. And that you, Celebrimbor’s trusted aid for so many years, are none other than Sauron’s beloved wife.
Had they known, they surely would not have asked you to assist in the task secretly entrusted to them by king Gil-galad—that of bringing into being some sort of creation that will save Elvendome from the dying of their light in Middle-Earth. That is what you are discussing now. Elrond laments that you have failed, and it is time to inform the High King of this. Celebrimbor looks at him, dismayed.
“We must not despair,” you intervene, working as much hopeful reassurance into your gaze as possible. “Surely, in another few days, the answers will come.”
And it’s not even a lie. Your husband shall bring all the inspiration needed and then some—but you must ensure the Elves do not leave this city before his arrival.
Elrond shakes his head. “I fear we’re out of time.” He places a hand on your shoulder, and you push down the urge to swat it away as he speaks very inconvenient words. “The Elves must prepare to abandon these shores. Forever.”
You return his sad smile with practiced ease.
Where are you? you reach out to your husband, sending the thought as far and quickly as you can manage—
A deep tiredness answers on his end. Swiftly and so very close.
The sound of hooves has never sounded sweeter than when Galadriel finally rides in through the gate. It serves you well that both Elrond and Celebrimbor are too stunned by her arrival to notice the slip in your mask when you see your husband following behind her, slumped against his own horse. Surely, the anguish written on your face is too great to be considered natural concern for a wounded stranger. You school your features quickly, but do rush to aid him in climbing off his horse—that much, any kind-hearted Elf would do.
For a short, beautiful moment, you are pressed against him as he staggers on his feet, and you manage to exchange the briefest of glances. His brow is slick with sweat, he is bleeding from his side, yet you feel through your bond how your touch fills him with elation. You would suffer the same wound as him, you think, if only it meant you could kiss him as you long to, then and there.
But a couple of guards are quick to intervene, taking what they must think is too heavy a burden off your shoulders. Pulling your husband from you, they sling his arms around themselves and all but drag him away when he fails to walk on his own, leaving you to strive not to follow as your heart slams against your ribcage.
“What has happened?” Celebrimbor asks.
“Enemy lance, six days ago,” Galadriel tells him. “We rode without rest.”
Galadriel. You take a moment to look at her. You’ve seen her before, of course, but not as a cog in your plans. That had happened quite accidentally—or perhaps by fate. Either way, your husband has returned. That is all that matters.
Well, that and getting him alone.
There is no plausible reason for you to stand at his side whilst your people’s artificers work to mend his wound. All you can do is sit and wait, gently nudging your husband’s mind through your bond to make your presence felt. A sense of content drifts back to you, though it is laced with the same impatience you feel.
If you were still loyal to the Valar, you would thank them for the haste with which Elvish remedies work, even if the hours they require to be applied feel like an eternity. Finally, the artificers leave your husband to rest his newly recovered body as you watch from the shadows of the corridor. It is past midnight, all too easy for you to slip into his room and shut the door behind you without anyone noticing.
Your husband, having sensed you were about to join him, awaits you in utter nonchalance, lying with his legs crossed and his arms beneath his head as if he truly were some graceless human man. He’s been given a new shirt, white and pristine. Pity. If you have your way, he’ll need a new one soon enough.
“The hour is inappropriate,” he greets you, and you don’t know whether you want to kiss or slap away his smug little smile.
For now, you answer with your own. “Good.”
You stride towards the bed with the determination of a demon chasing prey, and with swift, skillful movements, climb into it and straddle your husband’s hips.
“Gently, my love,” he warns, mischief dancing in his eyes as his hands fly to your waist, gripping your flesh greedily even as he keeps you at bay, “I am but a man recovering from his wounds.”
You give a slight, rueful chuckle. He is perfectly well now, and you both know it.
“I’m afraid you shall have to endure,” you threaten sweetly, and he abandons all feigned resistance as you dive in to finally claim his lips with yours.
The relief of being together again is instant, and you sigh into his mouth as you let his kiss consume you, sweet and slow. You surprise even yourself. You had expected a furious clash of teeth and tongues, the frenzy of swallowing each other whole after going too long without your beloved’s taste—like it was when you had finally nursed him from an amorphous black mass back into his form, and the two of you had been reduced to a tangle of thrashing limbs in the snow, as mindless and savage as animals mating in heat.
But that was after countless years of suffering in his absence. Compared to that, your time apart since the shipwreck separated you has been nothing at all—and what’s more, of your own choice, however it displeased you. Your husband had seen an opportunity in his meeting with Galadriel, one from which you could both benefit, and so he had entreated through your bond that rather than look for him, you must return to the false life you had built in Eregion in his absence, for he sensed you shall yet have use of it upon his return.
And now, here you are—reunited once more, in body as well as mind. This time, you wish to savour it. You relish each and every slide of your husband’s tongue against yours, every scrape of his stubble against your cheek, every inch of hair caressed by your fingers as they sink into it, tugging longingly at the roots. Your hearts beat against each other as you press yourself flush to him, his arms wrapped around you to somehow pull you even closer, and the might of the sheer adoration shared between you is almost too painful to bear.
“Will you stay this time?” you whisper, nudging his nose with yours as your lips part from his and hover close. “Or will I be made to wait for you once more, my love?”
His hand cradles your face, coaxing you to retreat only enough for your gazes to meet.
“The road goes ever winding,” he tells you. “Not even I can see all its paths.”
“Yet it seems ours so often tend to drift apart,” you say, frustratedly. “As though they are forced to be. That sea creature who attacked the ship, and the immense wave that carried us at such great distance from each other—that was no coincidence, was it?”
Your husband shakes his head.
“It is for us that I wish to reshape this world. Without you, the end I have seen so clearly since I first awoke withers away before my eyes. They know this.” Hatred sparks in his eyes, but it is only a flicker against the love with which he beholds you. “The Valar themselves may have attempted to part us,” he says, “yet the tides of fate only brought me back to you all the more fruitful in our endeavours.”
“Hm, so I’ve heard.” Now animated by more pleasant thoughts, you sit up slowly, sure to drag your nails down your husband’s torso with just the right amount of pressure that it draws a low groan from him. “King of the Southlands,” you proclaim, equal parts pride and amusement tugging at the corner of your mouth. “An old man’s trinket and a word from a gullible Elf and an entire people bow at your feet.”
“She is not gullible,” he says, almost absent-mindedly. His eyes are fixed on some tantalizing spot on your neck as he sits up as well and covers it with his mouth. “She is desperate to believe whatever suits her purpose,” he murmurs between languid kisses to your skin. “I all but laid back and allowed Galadriel to bring me right where I most needed to be.”
You’d be a helpless puddle of desire—and to an extent, you are—if not for the fire his words ignite within you. You grab a fistful of his hair and pull him away, pushing against his chest to throw him right back down against the pillows. That earns you a grunt and a wicked chuckle from your husband.
“It is not wise to speak another’s name,” you say with eerie calmness, gaze locked with your husband’s as you lean down until you’re nose to nose, “whilst your wife is astride you.”
He hums as if in contemplation, taking hold of your chin as his eyes roam over your face.
“She is hailed as the most beautiful of Elven maidens,” he reminds you, and you know it satisfies him when your brow knits in indignation. But then he goes on, ever so adoringly, “Those who say such a thing either have never laid eyes upon my beloved, or they are blind as bats.”
See, now... now you melt.
You catch his hand as it moves from your chin, and give the tip of his thumb the slightest nip.
“Beguiler,” you purr, a honeyed reproach. “No wonder you have them eating from the palm of your hand.” And that is exactly where you lay a lingering kiss. He seems transfixed by the reverence of your gesture, and his slightly parted lips are too tempting for you not to kiss them once more.
Your blood is still heated from your husband’s teasing, from being pressed against him so close, and you hunger for so much more than the gentleness from before. Your kiss grows deeper, more desperate, and soon enough you’re tugging at the hem of his shirt, signaling for him to aid you in lifting it over his head. With a frustrated groan, he takes hold of your hands to make them cease.
“My love, I would like nothing more than to have you, repeatedly, for the remainder of the night,” he says in earnest, breath heavy. “But you’ve already lingered here too long. Should someone come and see—”
“I’ve locked the doors,” you dismiss, and chase his lips once more. He lets you catch them, claims yet another kiss, only to turn away from you again.
“And if someone should unlock the door to find you here,” he retorts as you grunt in protest, “how shall we maintain our pretence?”
“I do not care!” you all but whine, the longing you have endured in his absence swelling painfully within your chest. It turns your voice into a quiet plea. “I want my husband.” You press an impossibly sweet kiss to his cheek, then murmur in his ear, “Don’t you want your wife?”
His breath hitches. Suddenly, he turns his head, his teeth grazing your earlobe.
“Temptress,” he rasps begrudgingly. Then, softly and subdued, “Beloved.”
He is the one to capture your lips now, any thought of restraining his desire long gone. You smile in triumph against his mouth, then plant your hands against his shoulders, push away and—fisting your hands in his shirt, you pull.
Elven fabrics are by no means fragile, but with a bit of your powers put into it, the shirt tears apart at the middle, baring your husband’s chest to your ravenous gaze.
“Perhaps we might be able to explain this, after all,” he muses while your lips attack his neck, quickly moving downward. “I could tell them what a merciless creature you are...” His hand comes to cradle the back of your head as he admires how you pepper urgent kisses down his chest. “...taking advantage of a poor mortal man when he finds himself in such a vulnerable state.”
You halt abruptly, eyes snapping up to his. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” you gasp with perfectly feigned innocence, even as you lay your sinful mouth on him once more. “Here I am—a kind, virtuous Elven maiden such as myself,” you speak between kisses, nips and licks at his skin, “seeking to bring aid to a wounded man...” Your lips venture lower, down his abdomen. “...only to be seduced into his bed...” His eyes are aflame with desire as you gaze up at him through your lashes, working open his belt. “...with shameless words of temptation and ruinous caresses. Imagine the scandal.”
It happens in an instant—you gasp as you are grabbed and pulled and flipped onto your back, your husband’s frame pressing you down into the mattress as he pins your wrists to the pillow.
“Imagine that, indeed,” he rasps out, eyes so darkened by hunger his pupils turn to their primal slit shape. “Imagine if they were to burst through the door...” He releases one of your wrists to wrap an achingly tender hand around your throat, leaning into your ear. “...and saw us joined as one,” he whispers into it, making you shudder, “and knew at once that we’re forever bound.”
You grip at his wrist, eyes fluttering shut, chest heaving, ready to beg for him to give you more. But he isn’t done, and tightens his hold on your throat with just the right amount of pressure to draw a wanton whimper from it. “Imagine,” he says, “if they saw this kind, virtuous Elven maiden you have led them to believe you are for all these years, ruined with pleasure beneath her husband.” He lifts his head, his cruelty to ‘them’ mingling with his reverence for you in his gaze. “Imagine their betrayal, their horror. Their jealousy—for they would know, deep in their bones, that no love of theirs will ever compare to that which binds our souls as one. Would you like that?”
You would not like it—you need it, you crave it with a force so great it feels as though his skin is made of flame, burning yours in sweet agony with every inch it touches. And yet, even breathless and desperate as you are, you lift your chin in challenge and fix him with your gaze.
“I would like you,” you murmur defiantly, “to put that wicked tongue of yours to better use than talking.”
Your husband grins. “How I’ve missed you, my love.”
There is nothing teasing about the way he kisses you then. He tastes your mouth with abandon as his hips dig into yours, and you whine impatiently, writhing within his grip. Obeying your silent wish, his hands release your throat and wrist in favour of roaming over your body, caressing and kneading all the spots of your soft flesh he knows to be most sensitive. You coil your arms around him, wishing him even closer, as his lips drift from yours to your jaw, kissing their eager way down your neck, and you shudder as he tugs down the shoulder of your dress, exposing your heated skin only to set it further ablaze with his mouth. You can feel the fabric straining, sure enough to tear apart in the same way his shirt had, and you want it, you want your husband’s skin against yours with nothing in between—
Someone is trying to open the door.
You pray with all your might that you misheard, even as your husband freezes at the sound as well, and lifts his mouth from your shoulder to look in the direction of the sound. But then whoever is on the other side, realizing that the door had been locked, knocks on it instead.
You don’t even bother making your voice quiet. “Oh, for the love of—!”
Your husband puts a silencing finger to your lips—and gives you a scolding look when you lick it obscenely.
“Sir Halbrand?” one of the artificers calls from outside. “Are you well?”
“That should be ‘your majesty’,” your husband mumbles.
“I’ll kill them,” you deadpan.
“Shh,” he cooes, slightly amused. “Not yet. We still have work to do here.” Infuriatingly composed, his eyes roam the room in search of a solution, and land on one. “Why don’t you step onto the balcony for a moment whilst I tell them I locked the door myself? A man needs his privacy, after all.” He looks back to you, and finds a tragic blend of ire and yearning on your face.
“Oh, my love,” he says sympathetically, brushing a tender knuckle down your cheek, “how beautiful you are when you crave me to despair.”
“Then I must always look splendid,” you quip, lifting your head to reach his lips with an alluring whisper, “I never not crave you to despair.”
He curses in Black Speech, the foul words muffled as he gives into your kiss once more. But then there is another rap at the door, more urgent than the last.
“Go,” he grunts. Before you can protest further, your husband pries himself off you and leaves the bed altogether. You allow yourself a moment to plop down on the pillows and curse at the ceiling before you will your body into moving. Your limbs are still weak with desire as you get on your feet.
You decide then and there that your first decree as Queen of all Middle-Earth shall be the execution of whoever is now standing beyond that door.
Your husband has hastily discarded his ruined shirt, tormenting you further with an unobstructed view of his lean torso. There must be something equally irresistible in your disheveled state, however, because the moment his eyes land upon you, his apparent composure slips away and he surges to you like a man possessed, planting yet another searing kiss onto your lips.
“Get rid of them,” you pant out as you break away.
Your husband takes your hand, kissing your knuckles quickly. “As my Queen commands.”
Your heart flutters, easing the frustration as, finally, you go your separate ways: he towards the door, you to conceal yourself. You take comfort in knowing that this parting, unlike the others, shall be extremely short—and the reunion all the more delectable.
Next fic with same reader -> As one
I'm totally obsessed with him too 🫡 IT'S INSANE.
I can't wait to see what you come up with next!!!
we live in the halbrand/sauron supremacy. like literally and it’s just perfect. 🤧
i was WAITING for someone to write a fic about sauron with this song because it fits so perfect 😫 and this one was better than i could ever imagine
Skin and bones
Pairing: Halbrand/Annatar/We know who x fem!elf! reader Summary: Ever since Galadriel revealed Halbrand's true identity, you've been having some very strange dreams… dreams that aren't the innocent figments of your imagination you thought they were. Warning: I HAVEN'T WATCHED THE RINGS OF POWER. All my knowledge is based on fanfics, short scenes posted on yt and uncle google. I just couldn't get this guy out of my mind... And I don't regret anything. Inspired by: David Kushner - "Skin and bones" Halbrand's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist
"Y/N…" A cold shiver runs down your spine as you feel HIS hot, quiet, velvety whisper in your ear. You keep your eyes tightly closed, not wanting to see what image your mind, tired from today's meetings, has put before you this time.
For days now, your imagination had been tormenting you with strange dreams. Dreams in which you were haunted by him.
Halbrand.
You avoided speaking his true name. Somehow, the face of the one you should have hated with all your heart did not match the face of the one who had spent so many weeks by your and Galadriel's side.
And it scared you immensely. So much so that you weren't sure you could pretend to the light elf that you were haunted by the shadows of your past.
Galardiel once told you that to know true light, one must touch the darkness. But what do you do when that darkness becomes more attractive than light? What do you do to resist that magnetism? How do you enjoy the glow of pure light on your skin again when you still have spots of darkness on you in the shape of HIS fingerprints?
"Y/N." Another whisper, another brush of warm air against your cool skin, this time on your neck. Goosebumps rise up your spine, your hand shakes uncontrollably, trying to desperatly grasp something you can't see. "Let go. Just let go. I'm waiting here for you. With open arms, mime írima kal (my lovely light)."
The feathery touch of HIS lips against your earlobe sends a shiver through your body. Even though you are in complete darkness, you are perfectly aware that he is near, that his presence is right next to you.
Physically you could be miles away from each other but spiritually... spiritually he has made sure that he will haunt you every night.
"You miss me. You miss the feeling of power I gave you. The darkness you could hide in, when you were too tired of playing the hero no one appreciates as they should. Just as I miss your light. Your laugh. Your mind. Your lips. Your body..." His lips move with each sentence down your cheek and to your neck, leaving a gentle kiss as if he was appreciating your skin and paid tribute to it.
He was right. You missed this. Him. He was addictive. And like any addiction, you should cut yourself off before it goes too far... but hasn't it gone too far already?
"Do you think you can hide from me? That any elven friend of yours could disrupt my vision of you? That I would stop watching you at night in the darkness of your chambers, waiting for the moment when you finally realize that the cold you feel is caused by my lack of physical presence with you? Tell me, my beautiful, stubborn elf, when will you realize that the warmth you long for is found in my darkness and not in the light of your golden sunlight?"
You gasp as HE suddenly grabs you by the neck and uses his fingertips to force you to turn your head towards him. His mouth attacks yours with a huge force of possessiveness, anger, frustration, lust, as if he were going to conquer you by using only his soft lips and a silver-tongue trained over the centuries he spend on seducing others to his will.
And you promised yourself that you wouldn't be the next victim of his games and manipulation.
That's why you let him kiss you. Not because you enjoy it and miss the feeling of his lips on yours. You tangle your hands in his hair, shivering as you feel the cold metal of his spiked crown against the pads of your fingers.
You managed to let his guard down, letting his tongue tangle with yours in a familiar, passionate dance you used to indulge in when you knew him not as a Dark Lord but as a mere blacksmith. An electric jolt runs through you, stealing all the air from your lungs and making your mind cloud with lust—but not strong enough to make you completely forget about your plan.
Before he can realise it, you bite his lower lip and push him away from you. You summon all your power that he hasn't timed in your sleep and push him out of your unconscious mind. You can hear his loud growl of rage and the clang of his metal armour against the rocks as you fall into nothingness.
A loud thud echoes through the room you and Galadriel have rented as you fall from the small bed onto the wooden floor. You groan, propping yourself up on your elbows and cursing under your breath as you wake up from yet another dream HE has taken over.
"Another one? Which one is it this week? Third?" You sigh at the question from the elf sitting on the bed across the small tavern room. You nod reluctantly and stand up, dusting off the dust and dirt from the floor.
"I'm not counting. I lost count about a two months ago anyway." You mumble, ignoring the fact that these dreams started much earlier. You turn your back to her, hiding the blush that blooms on your cheeks as you remember how… naughty your dreams were.
Before you realized that your… night visions weren't just yours, you and he… were doing all sorts of things. Most of them weren't really things you could speak about out loud. And as much as you're ashamed of them, you have to admit they were the best nights of sleep you've had since… you found out the truth about him.
"I keep wondering how he creates this connection with you? It's a bridge that shouldn't be created without… the willingness of both sides."
“It’s Sauron.” You reply, making sure to pronounce his name with just the right amount of disgust in your voice. "He has powers that allow him to break the rules. You know that."
"Still… they shouldn't be that strong."
"Are you suggesting something, Galadriel? Do you think I would really seek him out willingly? He has deceived us. He has deceived you and me. He wants to destroy Middle-earth, do you think I would willingly seek contact with him for any other purpose than to finally kill him?"
Your accusatory tone comes out a little stronger than you intended. You wrap your arms around yourself and take a few calming breaths, trying to calm the anger boiling inside you.
"I trust you. If I trust anyone, it's you, Y/N. I'm not your enemy here." She responds calmly and walks over to you. She cups your cheeks in her hands and rests her forehead against yours.
"I am highly aware." You respond and place your hands on the sides of her neck. "I'm just... tired. That's all." You sigh and rest your chin on her shoulder, snuggling into her.
You hold each other like that until she gently pulls away from you. She grabs your hands and looks you in the eyes.
"We all are. War is coming. Darkness is descending upon more of our lands. But together we will prevail. Sun and moon. We must work together if we are about to defeat him and Morgoth." Galadriel spoke, tightening her grip on your hands.
"I know." You mumble and shake your head. You remove your hands from her grip and turn to face the window, watching the sun slowly rise. “Which doesn’t mean he won’t see it coming. Because he will. We have to move faster, think five step ahead than he does if we want the light to break through his army of darkness.” You say not turning to face her since you're too afraid of what she'll find in your eyes. Galadriel sighs but doesn't try to catch your attention anymore.
"I guess we won't get any more sleep tonight. Get ready. I'll go find Erlond." She looks at you a little longer, her gaze burning on your back, but you stubbornly stare out at the valleys lit by the glow of the sun breaking through the morning mist, not yet feeling ready to face what is outside.
You breathe a sigh of relief as the door closes behind her. You turn one of the rings forged by HIM, which you have placed on your necklace, in your hands, quietly wondering if you should really do what you were about to do. But since he's decided to play dirty against you for weeks... you might as well start returning his little blows, too.
You close your eyes and place the ring on your finger. You hold your breath as the familiar surge of power makes your blood pump a little harder and your eyes sharpen to your surroundings. The outlines of the valleys in the distance become much clearer, and you can almost smell the forest that lies miles away.
You know he can sense where you are if you let him. So you take a little risk and remove the protective shield that keeps you away from him. And Sauron bursts through your slightly ajar door as if into a rabbit hole.
"If you're out there somewhere… if you can hear me… know that you've given me enough darkness to rip your black heart from your chest without blinking, mime melin cotumo."
Maybe calling him your dear enemy wasn't the best thing to end your threat, but the only thing that could leave your lips when you addressed him were such nicknames. Never the names you knew him by. Especially the name under which he hid when you so naively gave him part of your heart.
"Are you, Y/N?"
His whispered question echoes through the empty room. You immediately throw him out and slam the door on his ghostly presence, blocking his vision of you again. You want to celebrate this small victory over him, showing him that you are still in control, but you both know it's just an illusion. An illusion you're desperately trying to fall for. Unfortunately, you guess you're not as good at them as he is.
"I don't like him." You say to Galadriel, eyeing Annatar carefully.
You held little Celebrían in your arms and watched as Celeborn, Celebrimbor, and Annatar chatted in the distance, enjoying the party Celebrimbor had thrown for your arrival.
"He is… quiet around us. But that doesn't mean we have to be hostile towards him right away. We can't be overly suspicious." Galadriel says and takes her daughter from you, who begins to cry quietly. You sigh, looking at the child in her arms.
"In these times we can be as suspicious as we want, Galadriel. Middle-earth is even more divided; we elves do not have such a solid, strong united front. If Sauron decides to attack with his orcs, they will crush us one by one. We must act, not be stuck in pointless parties."
"Parties are also part of diplomacy. I'm off to melt the hearts of the ladies of other lands with this sweet little bundle. Try not to spit venom at others. We need allies, as you well noticed." And with that, she leaves you to drown your bitter thoughts in a glass of wine completely alone.
You snort, not paying attention to what's going on around you. The ring that hangs around your neck under your clothes burns your skin mercilessly as you try with all your might to push away the memories of the nap you took after arriving.
Warm, black furs clung to you as you slept soundly in your soft bed. In the background, you could hear the crackling of the fire burning in the fireplace. You were tucked into warm pillows and blankets, the tip of your nose exposed to the cool air outside, being the only thing that was bothering you from resting in your bed.
After a while it turned out that it wasn't just one thing that was supposed to bother you.
You gasp as a strong arm suddenly wraps around your waist. The blankets are lifted, and the cool air assaults your skin, sending goosebumps up your spine. A moment later, you feel yourself pressed against someone's bare, muscular chest.
"Is my queen comfortable enough?" He whispers teasingly in your ear and nuzzles your temple, tightening his grip on you as you try to squirm out of his arms. But he doesn't give you that chance.
He grabs both of your wrists and presses them to your chest as he straddles you. Black fur clings to his back, the only covering he's wearing.
"Do you intend to defile me in your dreams when in reality you cannot lay even the smallest fingertip upon me? You grow more pathetic with the passing centuries." You growl at him angrily, kicking beneath him and trying to break free from his grip.
"You will beg for my touch. I will make your cries heard throughout all the Middle-Earth." He murmurs a promise against your lips and leans down, capturing your lips in an aggressive, passionate kiss that sets every fiber of your being on fire.
The surroundings around you change rapidly. Suddenly, you are completely alone in a black and gold throne room. The only source of light is the rays reflected off a golden throne engraved with a sun.
You glance around frantically, searching for him and a weapon you could use against him. You take a few steps back, heading unconsciously toward the two thrones on the dais. You gasp as your foot touches the tiled mechanism beneath you.
The throne room begins to change, darkness giving way to light, the black marble turning white. But the entire chamber, instead of being divided in half by two colours, blends into grey. The golden throne turns white, and the black as night one becomes a lighter shade of black, almost greige. You turn your face to the landscape outside the window and gasp at what you see.
All of Middle-earth. Divided, but still... a coherent whole. Each of the lands was arranged so as to separate races that got in each other's way, where conflict could arise. The lands of the Orcs were in a barren wasteland, where life could not have arisen anyway, but they made their kingdom on it. All separated from each other by walls of mountains so high that even from the height where the palace was located, it was difficult to see the top of their mountains and the paths of the passes.
You shiver as the heavy, cool metal of the crown settles against your temples. He quickly grabs your shoulders and digs his fingers into you. He holds you against him, forcing you to stare at the land before you, a land you barely recognise anymore.
"We could have that. All of that. I would place a crown on your head, make them all bow to you. Make them bow to us. I would heal Middle-earth of strife and war, make them all live in harmony in their own worlds."
"Would you confine them within the boundaries of their lands? What if they run out of space? Would you move mountains? Would you remake the world? You won't fix them this way; you can't avoid wars and bloodshed. Who do you think you are to decide how the world is suspposed to look like?" You ask him angrily, turning in his arms.
You bravely hold Halbrand’s watchful gaze as he analyses your words carefully, probably thinking of ways to make you join his side, ways to make you see his case in a completely different light.
And you hope you'll have the self-control to reject every single one of them - every little tempting suggestion of the future he wants to show you.
"Amil! (Mommy!)" The joyful cry of a child and the dull thud of tiny feet hitting the floor later are the only warning you get before something small pounces on your legs.
You stubbornly don't look down, but into the eyes of the man in front of you, because you know that once your eyes land on the little projection of a child he wants to show you, you'll be haunted for the rest of your life by the image of what you could have had with him.
“You won't even look at our son, Y/N?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you, daring you to show him how much you don’t care or care about the future he has to offer you.
So you gather all the strength you have inside you and lean down to take the little boy into your arms. He mumbles something, playing with the necklace around your neck.
The boy has his dark hair. And your eyes. And he's too damn cute for you to ever forget the vision he shows you, that he created to torture you forever.
"How long would it take you to instill your dark, poisonous thoughts in him?" You ask with a trembling voice, giving him a look full of pain and dismay.
"I've told you many times, mime melin hon. With you by my side I would have no darkness within me." He mumbles and reaches up to stroke your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I will make you mine. Even if it was the last thing I would do. With or without your consent, I will bind you to me and make you who you were always meant to be: My queen."
You shiver as he places a tender kiss on your forehead. You hold back a broken sob as the weight of the baby on your hip begins to fade and his touch becomes just a hazy memory as you wake from this beautiful and terrifying dream.
“Can you do me the great honour of dancing with you, my lady?” You shiver when you suddenly hear someone's voice next to you. You turn around and barely keep a grimace from forming on your face when the platinum hair of the hated elf catches your eye.
"Lord Annatar. I thought you weren't dancing tonight?" You say in a forced, pleasant tone of voice and nod towards the elf whose invitation to dance he declined. He becomes embarrassed at this and clears his throat awkwardly.
"I simply have been saving my first dance in the hope that my lady of the sun would consent to grace me with it." You present him with your practiced smile, internally cursing him for being so thoughtful with his choice of words. Refusing him would be like spitting in his face - something Galadriel would clearly disapprove of.
"How could I be so cruel in this situation and refuse you, Lord of Gifts?" You tease him flirtatiously, seeing an opportunity in his obvious little affection, and offer him your hand.
You tremble as an electric shiver suddenly runs through you. The strange reaction to his closeness makes your brain buzz with thoughts. Especially when the ring hidden under the material of your dress begins to heat up.
"I may be… but right now I feel like I've received the greatest gift from you, my lady." He says, placing a soft kiss on the top of your hand. He confidently leads you onto the dance floor and pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your waist and being a little too close than was required for this particular dance.
His closeness overwhelms you. Not in a positive way. He seems suspiciously too familiar. Your body doesn't react to him as to a stranger; on the contrary, you immerse yourself in his touch as if it were familiar, comforting. You sense that something is wrong, but you can't say what yet.
"Do you like the rings we've been forging lately? Galadriel probably won't be too keen on his... idea."
"Because he follows in Sauron's footsteps. Perhaps we can dissuade him from this path. Together." You see his jaw tense slightly at your words. His grip on you tightens a little and he seems... flustered.
You narrow your eyes at him slightly, trying to understand his reaction, as well as why with every little touch he makes the ring on your chest burns like it's on fire.
"I truly believe we would be a great unit, úrin-o i world." You tremble when he calls you the sun of the world just as you tremble when he places his hands on your hips and lifts you.
He's in no hurry to put you down. It's as if he was deliberately prolonging this moment, and you let yourself be caught in the hypnotized state that his eyes bring you to.
For a moment, nothing exists except the two of you. It's just you and him. The dancing couples swirling around you momentarily become a blur.
You gasp when, for a moment, instead of Annatar's face, you see Halbrand. His mesmerising blue eyes pierce through you, making it all you can do to lean closer to him.
Your vision ends the moment one of the couples crashes into you. You land awkwardly on Annatar's chest, only his arms keeping you from falling. The couple apologizes and he just nods, pulling the two of you to the sidelines to a more secluded place.
You sigh, staring at him, your breathing heavy, not from the exertion of the dance, but from what you saw when you danced with him. Or rather, who.
"What are you?" You ask suspiciously, but he raises a surprised eyebrow at you, as if your sudden hostility was unfounded.
"You know who I am. Don't you, my Lady of the Sun?" You swallow hard at his question, but before you can answer him, Galadriel steps between you and him. A very angry and irritated Galadriel.
"He is of an unsound mind. How can he ignore what is so obvious? No one who follows the path that Sauron trod can call himself anything but his ally. I am leaving first thing in the morning. We cannot waste time while he is somewhere nearby, preparing an army against us."
"Perhaps you are giving him too much thought, my lady?" Annatar makes a sarcastic remark, but Galadriel ignores him and walks furiously away from the two of you, not even waiting for her husband, who has just reached the three of you.
"Galadriel..." You call out to her but she ignores you. "Galadriel!" Celeborn nods apologetically and follows the elf with the child in his arms. You stand in shock in the middle of the room and stare at the leaving elves.
"I don't blame them. You know what they're talking about... and about who they're talking." Annatar says, nodding at Celebrimbor. He stands alone in the corner, looking around nervously. "It would be best if you followed your lady." He advises you like a nasty snake that coils around your leg and whispers unwanted things in your ear.
You flinch and turn so you can fully look at him. He liked to play games. So he'll get one from you. You won't leave this palace without a promise from Celebrimbor to join you in case... if HE tries to attack.
Galadriel wanted to resort to desperate measures—she wanted to warn Adar that Sauron lived and wanted to use orcs in his plan to change Middle-earth. If you were to choose allies, you would rather heal the mind of an elf in whom you saw even a shred of light.
"I am my own lady. I do not have to follow anyone. Besides, I think you could use some help here, dear Annatar." You reply with a sweet smile. You see his jaw tense a little at your words. He clearly didn't want you around - that's why you had to stay here and see what the Lord of Gifts - the supposed envoy of the Valar was really doing in Eregion.
"Hm... that would be an honour to have you as our guest, my lady."
He says, smiling mysteriously at you. A shiver runs down your spine, and you already know that this won't be as much fun for you as it will be for him.
As if on cue, you drift off into blissful, dark unconsciousness.
"Fighting by your side… I felt like I could hold onto that feeling. Bind it in my very being."
"I felt it to." You mumble, staring at Halbrand's slightly bruised and scratched face.
You often had dreams like that. Flashbacks of past events. Sometimes they were real, and sometimes he was just playing with you in dreamland again, reenacting past events and laughing in your face, mocking you as you relived the same thing.
So I guess nothing has changed… if, knowing who I am, you still kiss me with such burning passion, my sunshine.
Cheap line. You managed to punch him for it many times. But that only seems to make him more cocky. So you stopped and instead looked for some way to get out of these dreams.
But now, as he leaned down and kissed you as sweetly as he had before... you could do nothing but moan and grab his hair in your fist as you pressed yourself against him, hating every bit of armour that covered your bodies and was separating you from him.
"The Valar must have spent aeons crafting those raspberry-sweet lips." He mumbles against your lips and cups your cheek in his hand. He pushes you back gently, your back pressing against the tree trunk you were sitting on.
You pretend you didn't notice that that little comment never came out of his mouth back then, and you take advantage of his moment of distraction. You take out your dagger and press it to his neck, pushing him away from you.
He needs a moment to process what happened. He chuckles raggedly and shakes his head slightly—just enough so that your blade doesn't even scratch his skin.
"What gave me away?"
"Sweet lips?" You mock him, pinning him against the rough tree trunk.
"I tried to be romantic with you, my beloved nemesis. Almost the same as that Lord of Gifts of yours, wasn't it?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. The cocky smirk doesn't leave his face even as you straddle him with the blade at his neck. You want to pierce all of his arteries, but his comment about Annatara catches your attention more than the murderous urge he's inspired in you.
"Jealous?"
"Intrigued. Do you like him?" He corrects you and asks a question that makes you want to laugh. As if there was anyone else besides him who could hold your attention for longer…
"Are you afraid that it will take your place as the worst, most venomous snake I have ever encountered?"
"Oh please… we both know that's not the only thing I'm best at. I remember one night perfectly, when…" You press the metal of the blade to his neck and draw blood from him. A black stream runs down his skin, soaking into the tree trunk, which instantly rots. "I understand. You want to be the one to dominate today?"
You snort in frustration at him and push yourself away from him. You take a few steps away from him and watch him closely as he slowly stands up and catches up with you.
"Only if you let me plunge my blade into your black, cold heart."
"Only if you acknowledge the fact that it beats only for you." He whispers and gently cups your cheek with his hand. You tremble, unable to move away from him or make any movement except to stare at him. Anger and something else—a feeling you're terrified to admit to—boil inside you like crazy. And that's all because of him.
"As if you could love anyone but yourself." You answer shakily as he leans toward you. He kisses you again, more gently, more tenderly.
He lifts your chin with two fingers, demanding full access to your mouth, as if the way he kisses you is to prove to you that he is capable of love—that he is capable of giving himself over to a mad passion that he cannot control, as if you were truly his lady.
And it is out of fear that he will manage to squeeze out of you that little challenge that he so desires that you reach for the dagger you had abandoned earlier and brutally plunge it into your heart, bypassing the plates of your armor.
You gasp, tearing yourself out of the dream he has entangled you in, but only to find yourself in a real nightmare.
You look around in panic as you see only orcs above you. The dead body of a dark elf is being torn apart by them, as if they were performing some kind of ritual over the dead. They are talking to each other in the black language, clearly too distracted to pay much attention to you.
You reach out for their abandoned weapon beside you, but you can't move much. You groan as a foot steps on your wrist, hard enough to pin your hand in place but gentle enough not to break or crush your bone.
You lift your head and bite your lip, drawing blood when you see who is standing over you.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, my sweet nemesis." Annatar says and nods to the two orcs closest to you. They walk over and hold you by the arms, lifting you to your feet.
"Sauron." You snap at him furiously, putting as much venom and hatred as you can into saying his real name.
"Hello, darling. Many years, centuries even, but it still seems like one day, right?" He mockingly responds to your seething fury. You watch him closely and freeze when you see that he holds not only his crown in his hand but Galadriel's ring as well.
He had two of the three forged for the elves. The last one... hung around your neck. And he could have taken it anytime he wanted. But he would have to pry it off your dead body if he really wanted it.
"You were more handsome as a brunette." You spit insults at him, trying to stay as calm as you can as he begins to walk forward. The orcs lead you right next to him.
"I can transform back into Halbrand just for you. Would you prefer that, my lady?" You press your lips together in a thin line, about to answer him, but he's already using his powers, and before you can do anything, Halbrand appears before your eyes.
You turn your gaze away from him and try to focus on the burning desire to draw some blood that the orcs' touch on you inspires as they lead you toward what looks like a camp.
"I'd rather have you rotted in Mordor."
"Ahh… such ugly words on such a joyous day? After all, you don't get married every day, do you?" He asks casually, too excited for your liking; if the orcs weren't forcing you towards the large tent, you would have stopped dead in your tracks and stared at the back of his head in complete shock.
"Married?" You repeat his words stupidly. The orcs hand you to him after you enter the large tent and quickly flee at their lord's beck and call. Halbrand... Sauron sets his crown down at the foot of the makeshift bed and turns to regard you, a huge, cocky grin on his face that you once found sexy. In the current situation, it only irritated you more.
"I promised you I would make you a queen. My queen. I have a crown, an army, and land. The only thing that is missing is you by my side—exactly as the Valar planned." He’s been explaining this to you for the umpteenth time, as if you were a carefree child to whom he had to explain something in a simple, banal way. You clench your fists and take one deep, calming breath.
"I'd rather die."
"No, you don't. Don't blaspheme like that. We both know that's what you want. I'm only doing you a favour by taking away your free will, giving you the illusion that I'm forcing you to do this against your will, so you don't have to feel guilty about acting on your heart's desires." He answers confidently, stubbornly, in a tone you knew—a tone he had used a thousand times when negotiating with kings, queens, and nobles.
Back then, when you thought he was just a man, you were charmed by his chearism, his self-confidence, and his unwavering actions. Now you saw how dangerous that was.
"You don't know my heart's desires." You whisper as he stops in front of you. But he doesn't move to touch you, does nothing but stand there and watch you.
You want to curse him for turning back into Halbrand and for showing you this illusion. It was much easier for you to reject Annatar than him... ironic, since it was Halbrand that betrayed you more than any other being.
"Another lie. I think you've gotten a lot better at it than I have in my absence, my dear sunshine."
You snort when he calls you that. The moment you open your mouth to answer, he leans in and steals your kiss and your breath. He pulls you to him by the material of your dress and perfectly ignores any thumps in your chest you give him. You jerk against his grip, bite his lip, and do everything to pull away from him. But he doesn't let go. Not until you're gasping for air and your lips are swollen, your clothes and hair a mess just like all of you.
"You know... I am not surprised you lied to me all this time. I mean... living for so long can trick your mind. You probably don't know your true self anymore, do you? When was the last time someone called you by your true name? Not with insult or fear, but with affection, maybe even sympathy?"
"Why? Want to change that, I úrin -o mime coiv- (the sun of my life)?" He asks, slowly pulling away from you. You ignore your instincts to follow his touch and stand frozen in place as he walks over to his abandoned crown.
"Are you just going to rule them? In the hopes that they won't kill you again? That I won't convince them to do so?"
"Fear is a powerful ally. And something tells me you'd rather have me alive than dead." He answers calmly and places his crown on your head. You frown as the cool metal settles on your temple.
You let him play with you for a moment and treat you like a doll he can do anything to. You waited for the perfect moment to attack, to throw him off balance. You wouldn't give in to him without a fight. Not when you still had at least a shred of strength to resist the darkness calling out to you.
"Not as powerful ally as love." Your response makes him more thoughtful. He stares at you, contemplating the sight of you in his crown, as if trying to forever engrave the image in his mind… to bind it to his very being.
"Indeed. But you either have one of them." He nods and runs his fingertips over your exposed shoulder. You shiver as he grazes the metal of your necklace.
"And what did you want? From me?" You see him soften noticeably at your question. Something like affection… maybe even tenderness or love appears in his eyes as he moves his hand to your neck, cupping it gently.
"You know my heart's desire, Y/N. Just as I know yours." He mumbles your name barely audible and leans in closer to you. You shiver as his bearded cheek brushes against yours, his soft lips caressing your earlobe as he whispers: "I don't have to say it out loud for you to know it."
"No… you don't have to." You respond and cup his cheek in your hand. He freezes at the sudden display of affection from you and involuntarily buries his face in your palm, closing his eyes. You lean down and press a small kiss to his cheek. He sighs tiredly, as if he had travelled a truly polynomial distance, and allows himself to melt in your touch. "Because I'd rather cut your tongue out than listen to another lie from you."
Before he can react, you're already reaching for his dagger. You press it to his neck, but he shakes off your little seduction and pushes you away from him roughly. You fall with the yak onto the mattress behind you, the crown falling off your head with a clatter to the floor as you stare at him intently, both of you aiming your blades at each other.
"In some races dagger is considered as one of the love's language." She mocks you, wiping the black blood off his neck with her free hand. He licks it off—a demonstration at which you hold your breath for a moment. Bloody bastard.
"I always preferred to consider it death's language." You respond and lunge at him again. He blocks your blade with his own and grabs your arm. You hiss at the hard, painful swipe of his fingers against your skin as he leans toward you, giving you one of his long, enigmatic, dark stares.
"You know what the difference is between me and them, Y/N? They fear you, what you can do, the power you wield with such grace, like it's nothing. But I'm willing to burn in the light of your sun if it means having you by my side."
"Rather, if it means gaining that power for yourself." You growl and kick him. He falls on his back in surprise at your strength, which you take advantage of and run forward—straight to the exit of the tent.
You run through the camp and quickly take the ring from your neck. You put it on your finger and, using the power it gives you, cast illusions on yourself, becoming invisible to the orcs. You hear Halb... Sauron's shouts behind you, ordering the orcs to find you and bring you alive to him. He himself gives chase through the forest. And you have to admit that he is not so far from you.
You run as long as your legs give you strength. You stop in some clearing with a small stream. You try to find a safe hiding place, hide, and wait out the mad pursuit. And just when you think you've made it, he emerges from behind the trees.
"Y/N! I know you are here! I can feel you! I will always..." He pauses, his voice shaking, and you realise this is the second time you've seen him so... vulnerable and open. It's a dangerous reaction from him. Either it's real... or he's using it as a card in his game to win yet another game he's playing with you. "I would make you a queen. In a heartbeat. You don't have to do anything. Just come with me."
And you really wish it were that simple. But you don't know if you could look at yourself in the mirror if you just so blatantly betrayed them and everything you know for… him and his lies. As beautiful and tempting as they were.
"Queen of slaves like you!" You scream, comming out from your hidding place and attack him.
"Yes! I am a slave! I am a slave to you, Y/N. At least I have the courage to admit it to myself and to you. And you, my queen?" He says each sentence every time your blades strike each other with a metallic clang.
"Don't forget about Mogoth, my king." You mock him and hit him more and more aggressively, each of your blows a precise attack on him.
"You're going to bind to me. Willingly or not, and I will relish every moment of it." He growls and finally knocks the blade out of your hand, and he grabs your wrists, twisting your arms behind you and pressing your back against his chest, the blade at your neck gently teasing your skin, as do his lips against your temple. "Let go. Just let go. I know you are tired. Let me help you. Let me carry for you all your worries and the hatred of the Middle-earth. Let me make you my queen. Heal this world with me."
"Only if you will made ma a crown from your skin and bones." You gasp, fighting his grip, trying to twist from the iron grip his arms have on you, but it's not as easy as it might seem. He pins you to the ground, straddling you, and stares at you, breathing heavily.
"I will wrap you in them, if that's what I need to keep you at my side!"
His cry echoes through the empty clearing. For a moment, you stare at each other, not making a move. The sound of the stream around you is the only other song playing in accompaniment to your heavy heartbeat, which you can hear in the deafening emptiness that surrounds you. The world stops. Again, when you're close to him.
"I did not desire power as much as I desire you. You hurt me more than Morgoth ever did; you poison me more than the darkness. I think of you every morning, afternoon, and night. You are like a poison that I cannot draw from myself. You are the light that blinds me, that destroys me, but I cling to it like a child in the dark. Even though the darkness has been a much longer and more loyal companion to me than you." He mumbles, pressing wild kisses to your face.
You moan as his lips and rough beard abuse your neck worse than the blade he had brought to you moments ago, which he had driven into the ground beside you. You had nothing. No weapon to attack him with, to protect yourself from his sweet lips and the burning touch that stirred desires so shameful and so familiar in you.
"A pathological liar." You gasp as he hastily undoes your dress. But you do nothing to stop him. You can't anymore.
You feel exhausted, both mentally and physically, all the running away from him, all the fighting with him. Maybe you really were a lost cause; maybe you were always meant to blend with his darkness and try to balance it with your light. You don't know that. What you do know is that he feels too good against you for you to fight him any longer.
"Both of us. But I'm the only one here who doesn't deceive myself."
"I'd rather deceive myself than allow myself to think that I could desire someone like you." And it's awful that as you say that, you reach for him and help to undress him.
You were only proving that you really were a terrible liar and hypocrite. But how long could you hold back from touching the darkness that called out to you so sweetly?
"We both know this is much more than simple lust." He whispers, stroking your hair tenderly and pressing his lips to your forehead. His hands roam your exposed body, caressing every little part of you. And if you concentrate hard enough, you can forget for a moment who he really is—you can only see Halbrand and not HIM. "Tell me… what's it like to want to simultaneously pierce me with a sword, burn me at the stake, and cherish me in the privacy of your chambers, my dear sun?"
"Maddening." You whisper shakily, admitting what you feel.
A single tear rolls down your cheek—a tear that he quickly licks from you. He groans at the sweet-salty feeling of your tears and holds you tightly with his one arm as the other slowly begins to toy with your most sensitive place, preparing you for complete failure and defeat.
All you can feel is blissful pleasure as the darkness is touching you.
And just when he is about to bring you great pleasure, when he is about to unite the two of you as one after so long, he stops completely. You fidget, toss, and turn, seeking renewed contact with him that he does not grant you.
"I'll come for you. In one form or another. I'll make you my queen, whether you want me to or not. I may be a fraud, Y/N, but I don't have the strength to deceive myself. You'll understand when you will be my age. And I'll wait for that. I will wait for you to realise that I am the only one who sees you, accepts you, and adores you as you truly are. All you have to do is call for me." You almost cry in frustration as he pulls away from you, leaving only a ghostly touch on your skin as he continues to hold your wrists. "The sun is also having an eclipse, Y/N. I am your eclipse. And you will beg me to give you my darkness."
He places one last kiss on your forehead and then disappears. You sigh, looking around you, and realise with a shiver that he was never really there.
He tricked you. He connected with you through the ring you still wore on your finger and entered your mind as another illusion. You cry, your hand shakily pressed to your mouth as you try to keep from making any sound for fear that he and the orcs might still be nearby and sense you.
You bite your fingers as a pitiful cry wants to escape your lips; it starts as your mouth forms a cry of his name, but at the last moment you stop yourself. You grit your teeth and stand up from the ground. You dust off your dress and look around you.
The rising sun illuminates your face, but you no longer feel the familiar warmth spreading throughout your body as you greet the morning light. You feel emptyness. A festering, burning emptiness. And the visible touch of HIS lips on your neck...
Sauron may have defeated you in your dreams and mind, but when it came to duels, when you faced each other in your own skin and bones, he lost. In the crucial moments, when he was about to make you his, you managed to slip away from him. You only fear how long you will be able to do so.
Especially since he has robbed you of all joy in the light and awakened a lust for the darkness you have touched with him...
And as you stared at the rising sun, you already knew that there would be no salvation for you, nothing that would make you forget about the electric thrill you felt every time you embraced the darkness with him.
Halbrand, Sauron, Annatar, whatever form he took, you were drawn to him. And you could either die, try to fight it, or accept it and try to save the little bit of light that was left in both of you. You didn't believe that after all the darkness he'd poured into you, he wouldn't get an ounce of your light from you in exchange. And if that tormented him as much as his darkness tormented you... then you felt at least a little less pathetic for falling in love with the Dark Lord of the Rings.
you know you have a problem when you could never deceive him to be his queen because you really want to be his queen 🫠 oh lord save me
Imagine making Sauron believe that he convinced you to be his queen...
Imagine making Sauron believe that he convinced you to be his queen...
As soon as it became clear that Galadriel's ring can heal and you could use it just as easily as her, you knew what to do. It was also too easy to make her believe that you were ready to follow her ridiculous "plan" of yet again going in head first and having no idea what she will do when she faces the being far more powerful then her, even with the ring aiding her.
So went along until you finally faced him again. He looked different, and not just for his elven features. He seemed detached, colder, darker. At lest until he looked at you with a softness that made you melt from the inside. You let it take over you.
You let in all that he made you feel, the anger, the hurt, the love that was more painful than any wound he could cause. How could he let the darkness consume him so quickly when he was the one to pull you out of your own? The plan was to cloud your mind with those feelings and your doubts so he wouldn't suspect your true intentions.
There was no faking in the way he had to lure you in, you still had your doubts but you saw no other way. Nenya showed it to you when you tried it on at the urging of Galadriel, to prove to you that the rings are not evil and Sauron cannot control them. You wasn't so sure about either of that but your mind was finally made up as you fought Galadriel for the ring and took it before taking your side by the Dark Lord.
No, not dark. You will be his light whether he truly meant that statement or not, you just have to be careful and patient, you supposed it would take longer than you anticipated and completely giving yourself to him will doom you either way but there was still hope in you.
You hoped that once you are fully bound to him your love shines bright enough to hide a steady link of healing power from the ring. You hoped that you could deceive The Deceiver with giving him what he wants and you don't have to use it against him by giving yourself up to your people, presenting the weakness he created by forming a soul-deep attachment to your very being with his own...
okay wait, i never thought about something like this before and now i‘m just:
Imagine Galadriel saying yes to Sauron's proposal but finding it hard to keep the light so she decides to include you in their relationship...
Imagine Galadriel saying yes to Sauron's proposal but finding it hard to keep the light so she decides to include you in their relationship whether you like it or not...
Leading the rebellion against the self proclaimed king and queen of Middle-earth was not an easy feat, doing so with Galadriel's growing obsession with you putting an even bigger target on you was nearly impossible.
The strategy had to change. With so many of the free people under their influence, you had no chance in an open battle, so you planned to you use this inconvenience to your advantage. You figured you could get close enough to them and live long enough to take out at least Galadriel if you had no chance against Sauron, losing her could weaken him just enough to break their spell on the people...
The plan was not an entirely hopeless one, you just didn't calculate with Sauron getting an interest in you as well and participating in Galadriel's wicked games.
give me a sword he made and i will never lay it out of my hand ever again 🤭
Imagine asking Halbrand if he'd make you a sword...
Imagine asking Halbrand if he'd make you a sword after shamelessly admiring him while he worked and being in awe as you inspect the blades he made.
You commented that they almost sing as you wield them, quietly murmuring, wondering, if it would be possible to make a blade that would sing on its own.
He asked what you meant, and you bashfully explained that you were always fascinated by the stories you heard about the blades that the Dark Elf, Eöl, created.
The following teasing banter was nothing out of usual, except you have seen the spark in his eyes that your unsaid challenge started in him. He would do it, you could tell, and it would prove your suspicions about him.
Only, you were not sure you wanted to be right anymore...
well, i would let myself ruin by him everytime 🤭 i just love this and your writing wow. i would be so happy if you continue. i can’t wait for more
And Comes Dawn.
Pairing: sauron/halbrand x reader, more pairings in the future to be tagged
Summary: In all beings, there exists darkness. when the deciver finds one who seems to defy this, he becomes obsessed with finding it within her. and if he can't find it, he will ruin her himself.
Tags/Warnings: clichés abound, opposites attract, sauron being evil but also hot but also evil, no use of y/n. This is pretty barebones. There's not much to tag, I don't think.
Notes: there was a lot of interest in this when I made a post. This is not super duper long and a Lil choppy but I wanna see what people think. Lemme know if you like it. If I should continue it. I have a lot of ideas. It's all written and edited on my phone so I'm sorry if it looks bad or mistakes were made.
The wind from the sea felt nice on his face. After so many years spent as nothing more than mud and slime, it was nice to feel. Feel anything. Freedom, independence, revenge. His plan to create order and heal the world would come to fruition. Being stuck on a ship with these men was worth that price. They were like bugs. If he wanted to, he could squash them and feel nothing. Though there was one who spoke to him kindly as a mentor would, and there was the ever so slight stirring of emotions he presumed were long dead. The old man was enough to make him question what it was he desired. Did he want to be good? Did he want a fresh start? What about his plans? The desire for order was there, the want to heal the world and bring peace, but would he get that through evil, through deceit and violence? Or could that be obtained another way? He continued to stare over the vast ocean as the wheels in his head turned, and he waged a war inside himself.
"It's beautiful, is it not?" A voice broke through the silence of the night.
He turned sharply, greeted by the image of a young woman. You were beautiful. He noticed it right away. Never had he looked at a human and thought they were beautiful. The thought was usually reserved for elves, but you were different. He could tell just by looking. You were soft, gentle, pure. There was a light to you that permeated all of your features.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. We have more food tonight than expected, and you had been on your own so long before finding us. I supposed you might be hungry." You held up a bowl for him, which he accepted with a nod.
"Thank you. I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Halbrand."
You smiled softly back at him, giving him your name and taking a few small steps towards him. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
He watched you. It was curious. Everyone here was gruff and rude, not wanting to help a stranger, yet you brought him a bowl of soup instead of keeping it for yourself. He watched as you looked up at the stars and how they were reflected back in your eyes. Humans didn't often intrigue him, but you did.
He leaned back against the railing of the boat with his arms crossed, but before he could speak to ask his question, you spoke.
"The stars are beautiful, aren't they? The light against the immense darkness. It reminds us that there is light in all things. Even in the darkest of times, there is hope."
"Your people were just slaughtered by orcs. You're on the run. Hope in the stars seems pretty useless." His eyes watched you with keen interest.
"Hope is never useless. Without it, all is lost." The earnestness in your voice further fueled his curiosity.
"And what do you hope for in times like this?"
"A new start. A place to start fresh..."
"Yes," he interrupted, "That is what all hope for, but what do you hope a new place or fresh start will do? What do you want from it?"
"I want a safe place to lay my head. I want to live without shame. I want fresh air and to grow my food and I want music and I want laughter. I want to drink tea with my friends. I want to love and feel the wind on my face. I want happiness. I want peace." You smiled and closed your eyes as you pictured this serene future.
He watched you, his brows furrowed. You were odd, but he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing as of yet.
"You have a lot of this hope. It's almost oozing out of you. I can almost taste it." He took a step towards you. "As if there is no evil out there."
"There is evil, yes, but there is good. Do we despair because there is evil or have hope because there is good? I do not think there is truly anything that is created evil. Evil is only when the good is taken from someone, and if you're able to take it, then it's able to be taken back." Your eyes had opened, and you looked up at him.
"I doubt you'd believe that if you knew the evil I'd done."
"Thousands of years ago, the people of the southlands sided with Morgoth. Our ancestors fought alongside the most evil being to ever exist. Most would say that the things our people did were deplorable and worthy of the worst shame. But I look upon my home, I look upon the people I have grown with, and I do not see evil. The people here, I am but a stranger to them. I have yet to meet most of them, but they took me in, as they did you. If my ancestors were evil, they could not have created such good."
“Whatever evil you did, it can be forgiven. You can do good, be good.” You moved closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. The feeling brought a sense of warmth that he had not felt since before he joined Morgoth, when he went by a different name. His eyes traveled down to where your hand rested, and you dropped it back to your side. He'd found himself missing the feeling.
"Your ancestors did do evil, though. They did plenty of evil things. Just as I have."
"Did they do evil out of the desire to be evil? Or did they do evil to protect those they loved? Were they born that way, destined to be only evil? Were you made evil? Or was it thrust upon you in a moment of hopelessness? Does every being have the capability to do both good and evil?"
He was left stunned at what you said, it took longer than usual for him to come up with a response. He wet his lips, looking over the ocean for a moment before looking at you once more. Your hair was gently blowing in the breeze of the ocean and he found the sight captivating. His intuition told him you were telling the truth, that you believed the words you were saying with your whole being. How could that be? There had to be some darkness that motivated you, that tainted your soul.
Everyone had darkness.
His mind played over the interaction long after it had happened. He wanted to feel that warmth again. You were a puzzle, a mystery. He would not know peace until he figured out what darkness was inside you because surely there had to be something. It was one of the many things that plagued his mind late at night. He watched as you slept peacefully. You were rows and rows down from him, but he could zoom in on your form. He watched your chest rise and fall, the calm of your features. You were a mystery that he had to solve.
This was what was on his mind when the worm attacked. He needed to know you. Even now, he watched as you attempted to help an elderly woman stuck under a beam instead of rushing to safety yourself. He couldn't bring himself to save the old man, but his fingers wrapped around the relic, and as water rushed the ship, he lept over and shielded your body with his.
He couldn't let you die. He had to understand you, to know you, to find out what motivated you, he would find your inner darkness.
And if he couldn't, he'd ruin you instead.
oh my god, i love it 😫 her reaction to who he is, is just priceless – and yeah, i think i would accept it as same as the reader, i mean who could resist him?? 🤭
Decision (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)
-> in which you find out why Halbrand has been distant despite the intimacy you shared in Númenor, and now it’s your turn to decide whether or not to follow him on the path ahead
Warning: angst, implied smut, reader isn’t plain evil but she’s not saying no to touching Sauron the darkness either
Note: sequel to Choice but what happens there is explained here too
If you still had doubts before, now you’re absolutely certain. Halbrand has been avoiding you on purpose ever since you’ve reached Eregion and his lance wound has been healed.
Your pride would like you to pretend that it doesn’t hurt, but you cannot deny the pang in your chest each time you catch his eye only for him to look away. Or when, on the rare occasion that you do speak these days, he finds a way to cut the conversation short. But what hurts the most is that you are unable to discern the reason why.
Sometimes, you remember the night of passion you had shared in Númenor, trying to recall if there had been any misinterpretation on your part. You had met him in the smithy after he had refused Galadriel’s request to follow you to Middle-Earth and claim the title she believed was his as king of the Southlanders. You had told him his past deeds were of no consequence to you, that you believed he was worthy of leading regardless of whether or not it was his birthright. He had asked you, repeatedly, whether you were certain you could disregard his past as he had made his desire for you known.
And you had returned it. You’d had your fill of one another right there, on a table, utterly unable to restrain yourselves until you might have reached a more appropriate place for such activities. To say it was pleasurable would be an understatement. What Halbrand lacked in familiarity of your body, he made up in enthusiasm for discovering it, and becoming acquainted with his had been equally delightful for you. There had been no grand declaration of love, no spoken promises—but there had been unmistakable sentiment shared between you, during the deed as well as after. You had gently aided one another in redressing yourselves, and parted with a lingering kiss and a cheeky grin fron him whose memory still makes your heart flutter.
The following morning, you had sailed for Middle-Earth. Whether because of you or not, Halbrand had decided to make the journey after all, and that was all that mattered. And while your accommodations on the ship hardly allowed for privacy, you sought each other out more often than before, and spoke more freely. Although you shared few kisses, only in brief moments when you were away from prying eyes, and his past still remained much of a mystery to you, you figured it was simply not the right time or place for anything further.
The battlefield in the Southlands was even less ideal. The chaos unfolded quickly, a great eruption separated you, and you were only reunited with Halbrand at the survivors’ camp, where you’d found him wounded half to death by an enemy lance.
You had kissed him, then—when you were left alone in his tent, awaiting Galadriel to bring the horses that would take the three of you to Eregion, where his wound may be mended. You had found yourself pressing your lips to his with a different kind of urgency than before, struck by such powerful relief tears slipped from your eyes and fell onto his cheek as you pulled away.
“I thought you were dead,” you had whispered in anguish.
“I’ve been worse,” he had quipped, as if it were some kind of game. But this time, you had no witty comeback in return.
“No, Halbrand, I...” you’d said gravely, caressing his sweat-slicked cheek. “I realized, if that were the case... there were things I should have said to you—”
“Please,” he’d cut you off then, gently but decidedly pulling your hand away from his face. “Not yet.”
You had frowned, more than a little hurt by his dismissal, but didn’t insist. He was in a great deal of pain, and too exhausted to handle such a heavy conversation. You could understand that.
But once his wound had been healed, he only seemed less inclined to speak with you. In Eregion, there had been many occasions when he might have sought you out, visited your chamber. You could have, of course, visited his, but the few and brief interactions between you didn’t exactly encourage you to do so. He had begun to work with Celebrimbor, and whatever little time remained after their long hours together, he hardly ever chose to spend with you. You could tell he was in his element by Celebrimbor’s side, his eyes brightening beautifully with each new idea and small progress, yet a shadow passed over them when they met yours from across the forge room.
A week passed like this, then two—and you were beginning to question whether the thread of fate you’d once felt connecting you to him had been only a figment of your imagination after all.
It hurts. You do your best not to feel it. You know the few matches attempted between Elves and humans ended in loss and tragedy, but not from lack of care on the part of the lovers. If that is what you and Halbrand ever were.
Perhaps it is your pride that prevents you from confronting him yourself, or from revealing what is ailing you to anyone at all. On the few times Galadriel has attempted to broach the subject, you had insisted that there was nothing to discuss. Though with a look that told you she knew better, she had left you in peace. So, when a knock comes at the door of your chamber one late evening, you suspect it is her on the other side.
With a sigh, you go to greet her, but begin to speak even before the door is fully opened.
“Galadriel, I am quite tired—”
The words die in your throat—for it isn’t Galadriel at your door. It’s Halbrand.
“Might we speak?” he asks. As if it were perfectly natural. As if he has every right to be here. The first few days in Eregion, you would have been more than glad to receive him, had stared at door in anticipation of his visit, even. Now, your heart twists in your chest with rage, even as it aches at the sight of him.
“You avoid me like the plague for days on end,” you say harshly, “and now you wish to be allowed into my personal chamber at this late hour?”
He crosses his arms, nowhere near as repentant as he should be looking. In fact, a light smirk tugs at his mouth. “Surely my boldness does not come as a surprise to you.”
“Your boldness? No,” you retort. “Your lack of honor, however—that is both surprising and irritating. Not to mention disappointing. Should I continue?”
He sighs then, and uncrosses his arms to lean one hand against the doorframe, finally having the decency to look somewhat awkward as he surmises, “You are cross with me.”
“Do I not have cause to be?” You glance down the corridor to find it empty, but still lower your voice. “You bedded me—”
“It was a table, as I recall—”
“And now you mock me.”
You go to slam the door in his face.
“That was not my—” He hastily grabs the door, holding it open. “All right,” he relents, raising a hand in surrender. “All right. Forgive me.” This time, he is perfectly serious. You contemplate locking him out either way, but in the end resolve to make that decision based on what next comes out of his mouth. “I bedded you,” he admits, taking care to lower his voice as well, “then allowed acts of affection to pass between us, such as those between lovers. Yet my intentions went undeclared, and of late I have acted as though none of that ever happened. Indeed, I have not behaved as a... man of honor should. For that, I apologize. Truly.”
His gaze never leaves yours as he says it. There is no teasing lilt to his voice, no trace of playfulness or misdirection. If you are being honest with yourself, you believe him.
There is a part of you that still wants to give him a taste of his own medicine, turn him away at the moment he most wishes to be able to speak with you. But that would mean denying yourself the answers as well. So, with a sigh, you step out of the way in silent invitation. He gives you a slight, grateful smile as he takes it.
“I know what you did, Halbrand,” you say, shutting the door behind him once he is inside your chamber. “What I wish to know is why.”
“And I did wish to tell you,” he reassures you. “Only...”
It’s you who crosses your arms now, looking at him expectantly.
“It was for your sake that I have refrained from any further... closeness between us,” he goes on, somewhat hesitant. “I felt it would be unfair to receive your sincere confession when I was yet unable to make mine.”
“And why were you unable, pray tell?” you ask, skeptical. “Why is it now that you seek me out?”
When he next speaks, his voice is laced with frustration, as though it is only now seeping through after simmering for too long within him.
“Because with each glance cast my way, you have stripped me of the patience to deny us both of what we desire any longer, despite my reasons for doing so.” He steps closer to you, looking into your eyes intently. “You see, before I asked even more of you than what you had already granted me, I meant to prove myself to you. To show you, beyond doubt, that the purpose of my craft is not one of destruction, but of healing.”
“Speak plainly, Halbrand,” you urge impatiently. You cannot fathom where this train of thought leads. He takes a breath as though to make a grand confession, but what he says is, vexingly, nothing you haven’t heard before.
“I am not a king—”
“I told you, I don’t care—”
“...or a mortal,” he finishes.
That does work to silence you. Your brow knits, silently questioning what in the world he means by that. A grimness lurks in his eyes as he speaks, each word measured and heavy.
“I have been awake since before the breaking of the first silence. In that time, I’ve had many names.” After a pause, he adds with finality, “I am the one you call Sauron.”
You search his face for any sign that he is jesting. Lying. There is none. The silence stretches as his words sink in, and you finally understand what is happening.
Then, you do the only thing there is to do in such a predicament.
You laugh. Hand covering your mouth, belly shaking, you laugh in the face of Halbrand’s furrowed brow at your reaction.
“Oh, that is... pathetic. Truly,” you say as your mirthless laughter dies down, leaving behind nothing but the burning indignation in your chest. “I might have thought you brazen or uncouth, at times, but I never once took you for a coward, Halbrand. If all you wanted was a quick tumble in the sheets—or, to be accurate as you prefer, on a table—and nothing more, you can simply say you wish for me to leave you alone, instead of conjuring such a ridiculous excuse—”
He’s gone. Everything is gone—as if between blinks, you are no longer standing in your chamber, but in a different room altogether. Your mind is slow to catch up as panic grips you, eyes darting around your new surroundings. It’s a place you know well, one that has been at the forefront of your mind of late.
You are standing in the smithy in Númenor.
“I am no slave to such base urges,” Halbrand says, and you whip around, startled to find that he is suddenly beside you, drinking you in with his gaze in the very same hungered manner he had done the last time you were here. “If I feel desire, carnal or otherwise, it is because the object of it has truly, undeniably captivated me. So do not insult the intimacy we shared in this place by assuming it held no greater meaning.”
“End this,” you breathe out, too shaken to process his words. “End this, now!” you cry out.
He clenches his jaw, displeased—but in the next heartbeat, you are back in your chamber.
Your hand flies to your heaving chest as if that would tame your rampant heart. It’s as though you never left, and in truth, you suppose you didn’t. Halbrand is still standing before you.
But he is not Halbrand anymore. He never was.
“You...” you say, voice trembling as you stagger back until you bump into your writing table. The swirl of emotions within you is too great for you to even know where to begin. Your face twists in rage, even as your heart crumbles in pain. “You lied to me—”
“Lied to you? Not once,” Halbrand says in earnest, coming towards you with slow, careful steps. “I called myself a new name, that much is true, but I have had so many, given by others—why should one I give myself be of any less value?” You shake your head, open your mouth, but no words come out. You are glued on the spot, leaning back against the table for support as he stops at a reasonable distance, close enough to touch if you reach out but far enough that he is not crowding you.
“I told you I had done evil,” he goes on. “I asked you, over and over, whether you would have me regardless of the past, whatever that may be...” He brings a hand to his heart as he steps ever so slightly closer. “...and you accepted me as I was. As I am.”
He wears a soft smile as he says it, as if in awe that such a thing was true. And in truth... it is. You remember exactly what you had thought at the time. You knew he had suffered through a war, that the ‘evil’ of which he spoke must have meant some kind of death or betrayal. But over the years, through all the battles and the horrors you had endured yourself, those sins were part of your past as well. You wanted to believe they could be forgiven, that they had not been for nothing—and so you had forgiven his.
But you’d never imagined... You’d never suspected...
“Why me, then?” you ask quietly. In the end, those are the only words you find within yourself.
“Galadriel only asked me to fight at her side because she convinced herself I was the true king of the Southlands. But you...” Halbrand says, and you can tell when he means to reach out and touch you, but restrains himself. “You encouraged me to fulfill that role not because you believed it to be my birthright, but because you believed I was worthy of it, even if a lie was needed to unite the Southlanders. Because you know that what is right is not always what is considered good. Where others see black and white, you see the grey, and embrace it. There is light in you as well as darkness. Balance. That is what I seek for Middle-Earth as well. Harmony, perfection... lasting peace.”
You eye him warily. His words ring true within you, they resonate with parts of you which you rarely let show. Whether or not he means it when he says he wants peace, of one thing you are certain—he sees you.
“What you are crafting with Celebrimbor,” you ask, unable to withhold the curiosity he has sparked within you. “It’s meant to accomplish that? Peace?”
“It will,” he vows. But then his gaze shifts, uncertain. “Unless Celebrimbor learns of my identity, and refuses to proceed.”
“He surely would,” you agree wryly. “He would sooner let all of Elvendome abandon these shores forever than carry out the design of... one such as you.” You find yourself hesitating to call him by the name your people have given him. Somehow, despite everything, ‘the abhorred’ does not easily roll off your tongue when you look at him.
“That is why I meant to wait until the work was complete to reveal the truth to you, or to anyone else,” Halbrand confesses further. “But perhaps this is how I regain your trust—by leaving the fate of your own people in your hands, rather than decide it myself.”
His searing gaze, his words, the truth of what he is—it’s so much to take in all at once. You turn your back towards him, leaning against the table as you shut your eyes briefly so you can think.
“You would have me become a deceiver,” you say, staring outside your window at the lights of Eregion, “for the good of my people?”
There is a small silence, broken only by the sound of Halbrand’s soft steps towards you.
“The same as you once asked of me,” he reminds you. You feel how much closer he has come, enough that you feel the heat of his breath on your neck, yet you don’t feel compelled to move away. “The middle path between light and dark.” His fingers brush one of yours wrists, grazing your skin without wrapping around it. “I chose it,” he murmurs close to your ear. “Will you?”
Your gaze drifts to where he is touching you, and you remain staring as your heart rages in your chest.
The part of you that knows what is moral and good tells you to turn and run. To warn all Elves who cross your path that they have been deceived, that a great foe has been living amongst them in fair form, carrying out his plans unhindered.
But are those plans evil indeed, if they are meant to preserve the very light of the Elves? They would not even stop to consider such a question. His name alone would be too great a threat. It should, by all means, threaten you as well.
Yet his touch at your wrist does not feel threatening. Nor does his breath falling softly on the back of your neck. You’ve felt him close before in body as well as spirit, in ways that went beyond the words spoken or not between you, and you had never once sensed wrongness. Only a perfect, most fulfilling fit.
“If I do...” you ask quietly, feeling as though your world is tilting on its axis, “what happens then?”
He closes the last of the distance between you, and your eyes flutter shut as you allow him to press his front to your back. You hear his smile in his voice as he murmurs in your ear, “We end all wars.” The hand on your wrist slips downward to lace your fingers together, the other coming to rest on your waist. “We bring balance.” His lips brush your neck, and you tilt your head to grant him better access. “We heal Middle-Earth,” he vows as you shudder. “Together.”
His arm is coiling around your stomach, then, aiming to pull you more tightly against him—but you take a breath and turn around sharply to face him. There is desire in his eyes, the same kind that thrums beneath your skin. Still, you plant a hand on his chest to keep him at bay. Or to touch him. Both.
“You deceived me,” you say firmly. Regardless of what happens next, that is a grievance you still carry.
“I know,” Halbrand admits. “And I intend to make it up to you. Starting now...” His gaze drifts to your lips, voice lowering to a suggestive whisper, “...if you would allow it.”
You don’t think. You’ve done enough of that in your long life. It may be madness, but one thing is certain—for once, you decide to act upon what you feel.
So, you fist your hand in his shirt and pull him into a kiss, moaning softly as he grabs your waist to press you flush against him. You feel his deep satisfaction, mingled with relief in the way he greedily tastes your mouth once more. You only now realize how subdued his kisses after your night in the smithy had been. He has held himself back from you so as not to deceive you further, confessed his identity of his own free will. That counts for something, doesn’t it?
You’d like to think so, at the very least, as you swallow the groan he makes into your mouth. He hoists you up onto your table, and it feels as though you are back in the smithy again—not within an illusion this time, but in the urgency and abandon of your embrace, in the way you wrap your legs around him and the fervent sounds of desire you pant out into each other’s mouths.
It’s almost the same, but everything has changed.
“This is not an answer,” you breathe out as his lips release yours, only to trail a line of bone-melting kisses down your neck. Your words, however determined you mean for them to sound, are but a soft moan as you sink your fingers in his hair and hold him to you. “I am only... exploring my options.”
He hums, understanding but not entirely pleased—perhaps that is why he briefly catches the sensitive skin of your neck between his teeth, drawing a whimper from you with the pleasurable sting. When he lifts his head to meet your gaze, however, he seems anything but discouraged.
“Well, since tables are a trodden path...” he says, lips ghosting over yours, “let us explore the bed this time.”
Worrying less about what is good, and choosing what feels right, you make no protest as he carries you into that particular uncharted territory.
the way he calls her sweet one, i died 🫠 i like where this is going and can‘t wait for more
And Comes Dawn pt ii
pairing: halbrand/sauron x reader; there will be two love triangles in the future
Word Count: 2.3k
Part 1
Summary: In all beings, there exists darkness. when the deciver finds one who seems to defy this, he becomes obsessed with finding it within her. and if he can't find it, he will ruin her himself.
Tag: dark romance, slow burn, sauron is Stressed™️ , sauron is so horny he contemplates murder, minor sex mention, idk what else to tag or warn
Notes: 24 hours later I already have part 2 done. I was going to have up until galadriel joins the raft for part 2 but I have a lot of ideas so I'm splitting them up. I am also stretching the time during season 1, like instead of being a couple months it's gonna be about a year because it's my fic and I can do that. Saurons pov is all over the place bc he is all over the place and yeah. Feed back always welcome and lemme know if you wanna be tagged. Oh and everything was still done on my phone so sorry if it's weird.
“Halbrand?” You coughed.
It was all a blur for you. You were woken from sleep by the creature attacking the ship and in the flurry of rushing water, screams, and the sound of breaking wood. You had found a pair of arms around your waist. You held your breath and clamped your eyes shut, if you were to die you didn't want your last memory on this Earth to be of the ship's wreckage and the corpses of your traveling companions floating under the water. These fears disappeared as you broke to the surface of the sea with the arms around your waist still holding you securely. You gasped and filled your lungs with air, wet hair obstructing your view, but you could see the familiar face of your savior.
He hummed a response, and you could feel the sound reverberate in his chest. It was comforting, the feeling of his strong arms and solid chest. Despite the cold of the waters, his body was abnormally warm, and you found yourself pressing into him for more of that heat.
“There's a raft not far. I think there's another survivor or two aboard it.” He spoke, securing one arm tightly around your body as he used his other to move through the water.
You squinted and could see what you suspected to be the raft he spoke of, but it was rather far for him to swim carrying you “I can swim. I do not wish you to have to carry me all that way through the water.”
“No,” he responded firmly. “There is some terrible beast who just destroyed our ship. I will not allow you to go out on your own in the water.”
“But then we could both die if it finds us.”
Halbrand looked down at you, looking into your eyes as he spoke. “In that case, my conscience will be clear because I will be dead. I can already see the arguments forming on your tongue, and the answer is still no.”
He gave you a pointed look at which you nodded, “Thank you. Now hold on, sweet one.”
You wrapped your arms around his waist, closing your eyes. This has been quite the journey for you. You missed home, but you longed for a new start, a new place where your family's reputation didn't loom over you, and you weren't regarded with suspicion at every turn. You couldn't allow yourself to think this was it, that you'd die like this at the sea. You'd been through too much.
You didn't know if it had been 15 minutes or 3 hours when you heard a voice call out your name from the raft, the woman who'd slept across from you. You had only introduced yourselves and not talked much at all, but it was still a familiar voice.
“Here, help her up,” Halbrand called to one of the men as he hoisted you as best he could on to the raft. “There you go, sweet one.”
You pulled yourself up on the raft, and almost instantly, you found yourself falling asleep on the wood. Exhaustion took you after the adrenaline drop of finally being out of the water. You were swept into sleeps embrace as the sun began to peak over the horizon.
~
You awoke, rubbing the sleep out from your eyes and looking around you. The horrors of that night replayed in your mind, but then you remembered Halbrand. You sat up and noticed that the raft was considerably larger, different pieces of driftwood tied together, and makeshift sails set up. There were also more survivors than last night, but it was a considerably small amount. Your eyes roamed the passengers, but you couldn't find the one you sought.
“Your awareness of your surroundings is incredibly lacking.”
You startled at the sound of his deep voice, causing him to chuckle. He had been lying down and sat up as you turned to look at him. “Glad you woke, sweet one. If you'd slept much longer, I'm sure they'd try to add you to our rations.”
“There's rations?” You asked eagerly, unable to ignore the emptiness in your belly.
Halbrand nodded, “There is. He”- he motioned to an older man on the other side of the raft - “didn't want to give you any because you were sleeping, but I was able to do some convincing.” He handed you a chunk of bread and a small portion of dried meat.
You gave him your thanks, and as you grabbed it, you noticed his knuckles were bloodied. A quick glance at the old man, who you now noticed was sporting a bruise and a few cuts under his eye, gave you the answers you needed.
“Tell me you didn't strike an old man for this?”
He sighed, rolling his eyes and pushing the bread and meat further into your chest. “If I tell you he fell upon my fist, will you eat it? How I came about this matters not. What matters is you will not last if you do not eat.”
You sighed, feeling guilty but taking a bit nonetheless. The feeling of the bread and dried meat hitting your barren stomach was enough to make you moan softly. Halbrand chuckled, watching you and leaning against one of the makeshift masts.
“Thank you. For the food and for saving me. I don't know how to express my gratitude for all you've done for me,” you swallowed and wet your lips. “Though I must admit I'm greatly confused as to why.”
You looked over at him, brow furrowed as you awaited an answer.
“Because you are fair of face. I can not imagine the despair I'd fall into if I was stuck on a raft with nothing but them to look at,” he motioned to other inhabitants, “it would be quite bleak indeed.”
You couldn't help the blush that formed on the bridge of your nose and traveled across your cheeks. Despite this, you still shook your head. “There is no need to be rude or dishonest. I simply ask for the truth.”
“I admit that was rude, but it was anything but dishonest. You are beautiful, and I quite like looking at you,” his eyes noticed your blush, and it caused him to smirk - if only he knew of the butterflies forming in your stomach at his affirmation.
“Though,” he continued, “you are right. That is not the reason I saved you. It's only an added benefit. When I met you on the ship, there had been many that had complained that there was not enough notice. That I would deplete the rations and that they would have to recalculate everything. But you brought me extra soup, and it wasn't a small portion either. You brought it because you knew I had been on my own and assumed I'd been without food. You had no selfish intention. You were simply kind to a stranger because you felt it was the right thing to do. There is not enough of that in the world, and humanity can not bear to lose someone like you who is kind and good for no other purpose than that it is right.”
“Oh,” your voice was small, and your entire face burned bright red at his compliments.
“I would tell you more, but I'm afraid if I do, you may burst into flames.”
~
The waves rocked the raft gently, the previous night it had lulled you into a nice, deep sleep but there's only so much to do on a raft in the middle of nowhere and you had spent the majority of that time asleep. Your eyes watched the stars, feeling lucky that the sky was full of them and that the moon shone bright. The thought of endless darkness, especially knowing what was out there hunting in the ocean depths, was a terrifying thought. The sound of the others snores mixed with the sounds of the waves.
There was only one other who was still awake. Halbrand was busy tightening the ropes to secure the pieces of the raft together. You had noticed he did not sleep much. You had been on the raft for 3 nights and two days, and most of that time was spent with him. Though there wasn't much conversation, you seemed to be the only one on the raft he wasn't annoyed with. You caught him looking at you at times, which made you think he really did mean what he said on that first day.
“Still looking for hope in the stars, sweet one?” Halbrand teased with a smirk as he walked to where she sat and sat down next to her so close that their legs touched.
“Have you forgotten my name? You seem to only refer to me as ‘sweet one’.” You asked, tearing your eyes from the stars to look at him.
He rolled his eyes, your name rolling from his tongue. “Do you not like my nickname?”
“It is fine. I was just curious, and I wasn't quite sure why.” You looked up at him as you awaited his answer.
“Because you're sweet. Hence, sweet one.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You're quite the flirt, Halbrand.”
“Only with you, sweet one.” He playfully pushed his shoulder into yours, and he sat there with you, looking up at the stars.
You enjoyed the moment. The heat from his body and the solid feeling of him next to you brought contentment. You wondered if it was meaningless flirtations or if he could mean all of it. You pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. You were stranded on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Any romantic feelings you may be growing for him were unimportant in the face of that fact.
You looked over at him, and your eyes trailed down to the relic that hung from his neck. You'd noticed it before but had never thought to ask about it. Your fingers gently reached for it so you could get a better look.
“What is this?” You tilted your head, holding it in your palm.
“Have you seen it before?” His voice was soft, but his brown eyes watched your face intently.
You shook your head in answer.
“It's the heraldry of my family. I only asked if you'd seen it because it has been almost an age since we used it. I can't imagine any family in the Southlands has used heraldry in some time.”
You turned it over in your palm, examining it further. “Why do you carry it?”
He wet his lips, gently taking it from your fingers and looking at it himself. “It's a reminder, a grim one, that our fates are never certain and that fortune can change for anyone. We've seen that here,” he motioned around them.
“Is it a grim reminder? I find it quite hopeful. No matter what, nothing is certain, and nothing lasts forever. There may be evil, and there may be terribly dark times, but those times do not last forever. There is also good. Also times of wonder and prosperity.”
He laughed, smiling as he looked at you. “Of course, that is what you would say. Ever the light and so full of hope.”
~
It was not long after this that you had fallen asleep. He still sat next to you awake as ever. His mind reeling and racing with millions of thoughts, the conflict within him felt as though it would rip right through him. He wanted control and order. It was the only way in which this world could know peace. He also wanted revenge on Adar, on the orcs who attempted to kill him.
But he remembered Morgoth. He remembered his former master and the chase for power that ended in his utter destruction. Even before then, Morgoth had become enslaved to the power he held and the power he craved. That was a fate that Sauron did not wish to share. He did not want to lose control for the sake of power, but he would never be quenched without having power. He could not have both.
Then there was you. He had not expected you, and he was finding himself enthralled with you. He could not understand you or the effect you had on him. A human, of all creatures, making him question all he knew to be true. He had not lusted for the pleasures of the flesh in thousands upon thousands of years and it was never for a human but when your eyes gazed up at him through your lashes or when he saw the smile stretch across your lips and the dimples that followed, it made it impossible not to imagine how those same eyes would look gazing up at him as you kneel at his feet or how those lips would look parted in ecstasy. His thoughts were plagued with the idea of taking you, tasting you, and utterly corrupting you.
It was all incredibly inconvenient.
This wasn't part of the plan and if it was just lust that plagued him, perhaps he could drown you and be done with it but the infatuation with understanding you and your motives and how you became this way stopped his hand. And the damn warmth that radiated from you that reminded him of the home he could never return to. With you curled into his side, he could close his eyes and imagine a time before he was corrupted. It made him wonder if he truly was past all redemption.
When those thoughts dared make themselves known, he'd imagine you looking up at him with tears streaming down your cheeks and his cock shoved down your throat.
His eyes drifted toward the water. It wouldn't be hard. He's so much stronger than you. He could handle any resistance as he pushed you under the waves, and then his mind would be free of those thoughts. But then he looked at you, and a million unanswered questions filled his mind. He knew if he killed you, they would remain unanswered and would plague him forever.
He cursed under his breath and watched as you slept. The choir of a million thoughts did not stop, and he briefly wondered if you would be his undoing.
if you bled
halbrand/sauron x fem!elf!reader
summary: you fell in love with halbrand because he was everything you ever wanted. but you didn't know who he really was. not until now.
warnings: angst, reader gets disappointed (i mean it’s sauron??) but wants to give in to the darkness
word count: 1.4k
author’s note: here i am, writing another fic about our beloved dark lord. i listened to syml’s where’s my love - alternate version and let myself just go with it. this is how it turned out and i really hope you like it. xx ps: i think there’s gonna be a second part. 🙂↔️
part 2
You already knew that you would fall deeply in love with him when you first saw him.
He was beautiful.
His soft lips and his hands that felt so perfect in yours. And there were these little wrinkles that formed at the edges of his eyes whenever he smiled.
But it was his green eyes that managed to cast a spell on you. They were so deep that it seemed almost impossible to ever let go again.
With each passing day, you could see more in him. The lost king who would never stop fighting until his last breath. With every second, you began to understand him more and fell in love with the idea that he could save you. From the pain that had happened to you in your past and the pain that would await you in the future.
You always felt a little less broken by his side.
And when Galadriel found out who he really was, everything you should feel was contempt. But you could never hate him. It was too late for that.
There was only the pain of not telling you the truth himself. All he had said to you was an illusion for what you had most desired. It had never been real.
“Have you been listening to me?” Galadriel’s voice tears you away from your thoughts. “Halbrand is not who you thought he was! He deceived you, he deceived us all,” she says and waits for your reaction. But all you can do is to look at her.
Memories started to play before your inner eyes. Of what had happened and dreams of what you wished would happen.
Above all, Halbrand, who touched you in a way that no one ever had before. In every possible way.
You can still feel his warm breath on your skin and his fingers gently stroking the fabric of the dress on your hip while he stands behind you.
His voice, just a gentle breath in your ear and the goosebumps it causes on your body.
His promise to take away the darkness inside you.
His lips gently dancing over your neck and making you sigh.
And the following kiss that set everything inside you ablaze. The harbinger of a fire that could burn down all of Middle Earth.
“No…” the word comes out in a whisper and you shake your head as a tear runs down your cheek.
Before Galadriel can say anything else, you turn away from her and leave the room to run up the steps of the tower to the top where the forge is located.
Your eyes immediately fall on Celebrimbor, who is looking down at something with a smile. Elrond is standing next to him and looks less thrilled, his gaze first on you, then back to the stone table.
You step closer and now you can understand why Elrond's gaze is so serious.
There were three rings lying there, each one more beautiful than the other. You are drawn to them as if by magic, you can no longer look away.
“They are... beautiful.” You slowly stretch out your hand, wanting to touch one of them, when Elrond clears his throat.
Your gaze wanders upwards and you see him shaking his head. It was a silent warning which makes you lower your hand again.
Galadriel slowly enters the forge behind you and also comes closer. “I can't believe it actually worked,” you hear her say, but your attention remains on the rings.
They sparkle in the light of the slowly setting sun and remind you of the glow in his eyes.
You hear Galadriel and Elrond talking to each other, but you don't understand them. It was if they were far away from you. All you can think about is Halbrand and the pain he left behind in you. As well as the never ending longing in your heart.
The desire to finally surrender to the darkness, now that it threatens to devour you from all sides.
Only when your name is mentioned and Galadriel puts her hand on your arm, you are torn from your thoughts.
You pull away from her touch, shaking your head and you see the pain in her eyes. But you don’t care about it, just as she doesn’t seem to care about yours.
“I... have to go. Don't try to stop me,” you say quietly and look one last time at Elrond and Celebrimbor, who are both frowning worriedly, then you turn around and run down the stairs again.
You don’t see that Galadriel tries to follow you, but Elrond stops her. He seems to know, that you needed to be alone now.
When you get downstairs, you hurry through the hall that is still lit by the last rays of the sun. You wanted to get away from there as far as possible.
But you stop at the sound of a voice. It is his voice, no doubt about it. You slowly turn around as he steps out from behind a pillar.
He looks different than the last time you saw him, but still so beautiful. Your gazes meet and it takes your breath away, just like always.
All you can do is to watch, as he comes closer. But when he holds out his hand to you, you flinch away.
He immediately frowns until he seems to understand and a certain hardness flashes in his eyes. “So Galadriel told you?” he asks.
You nod slowly and look him in the eyes to find out what he must be feeling, but he doesn't let you in.
“You should have told me yourself, Halbrand,” you begin, looking him dead in the eyes. “Oh wait, that is not your name, right?”, you add, crossing your arms in front of your chest.
But no matter how strong your disappointment is, you know, that you could never escape his darkness. Not now that you know, that this darkness also lives in you. Not when he holds your heart in his hands.
Halbrand holds your gaze and takes another step towards you. This time you don't back away. Not even when he carefully separates your arms. “And what would it have changed if you had known?” he asks with a rough voice and looks down at you.
“It would have simply changed everything. Because you would have never deceived me like you did,” you answer and you can hear your own desperation in your voice. “All of that was an illusion of what I always wanted. And you used that against me. You used me. It was all a lie,” you add with a whisper and you can't hold back another tear.
Halbrand raises one of his hands to your face and catches the tear with his thumb. He smears it on your skin as he strokes your cheek, watching as it glistens in the sunlight.
He looks at you with a gentle gaze, even a little desperate. As if your words touch him deeply.
As suddenly footsteps sound behind you, he gently pulls you into the shadows, the part of the hall that is no longer lit by the sun.
You feel the cold stone wall at your back and resist the urge to lean into his touch.
“You're wrong,” Halbrand finally says and you look him in the eyes again. “I never lied to you. I was just not completely honest about one thing...” he pauses and slowly moves his face closer to you. “I never intended to take the darkness from you. I wanted you to surrender to it,” he finally breathes against your lips and you close your eyes.
His arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you closer to his body. “I wanted you to surrender to me,” he adds, his mouth now on your ear.
You can't help but shiver as his breath brushes over your neck, causing goosebumps on your body. But instead of kissing you there, he pulls away from you again and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
“As much as I would like you to do it right now, this is not the right time,” Halbrand whispers and you begin to understand.
“You're not really here, am I right?” Just then you notice the blood on the right corner of his mouth. It hadn't been there before.
Suddenly he seems completely different, as if he was dropping his facade. His face is dirty and his clothes have seen better days too. You put your hand gently on his cheek and caress the blood with your thumb.
“What has happened? Where are you?” you ask quietly and raise your gaze to look into his eyes, but there is secrecy in them. He wouldn't tell you.
“Please, Halbrand, tell me where you are. Let me come to you,” you say, but he shakes his head and takes your face between his hands.
The look in his eyes leaves no room for protest and you know you wouldn’t resist him. You never could.
“No. You will stay in Eregion. I will find my way back to you, i promise.” Those are the last words you hear, then you find yourself alone in the hall again, surrounded by complete darkness.
And you are more than ready to drown in it.
2024 | notreallythatlost
Perfect illusion (Sauron x Celebrimbor’s daughter!reader)
-> in which you have to sit by your father’s side as Sauron coerces him into finishing the Nine, realizing just how blind you have been all along
Warnings: No romance, just angst. You marry Annatar (+ implied smut) when you don’t know he’s Sauron, so there’s all the emotional torment and consent issues that come with that. Uncomfortable touching (not smut) after you find out he’s Sauron. Manipulation, mind control and victim blaming as per canon
You sit in your chair, watching your father work. A familiar thing, which you have done a million times before. Before, however, there had never been a shackle around his wrist, or blood marring his brow. There had never been rubble scattered about the workplace, or the sound of battle coming through the window. Before, there had never been The Dark Lord standing behind you, his hands weighing you down as though the ceiling had collapsed upon you.
That is not to say that they are forceful. No, his touch is soft, as it has always been, his fingers brushing your hair gently, almost absent-mindedly. At times they reach your neck or your cheek, grazing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. You dig your nails painfully into your own hands to keep from trembling. It’s the least, even if the most inconsequential thing, that you can still do—to deny him this small satisfaction.
“Stop that,” Sauron says, his voice deceivingly gentle as he gives your shoulder a warning squeeze. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”
Of course, that only makes you want to clench your fists harder. But you force yourself to open them, mindful of what might happen if you disobey.
“You once took comfort in my touch,” he says. If you knew no better, you’d believe the sorrow in his voice is genuine. “It is only comfort I wish to give you now as well.”
His knuckles brush your cheek, painfully tender and excruciatingly familiar. Though you’ve been trying to keep as still as possible, you cannot help but turn your face away, if only just an inch.
His hand stills mid-air, then returns to your shoulder. He takes a breath, quiet but long and deep.
“I have caused you suffering. That is true,” he admits, patiently. “But I assure you that this too shall pass. Once Middle-Earth is healed, and the people will see what we did here... your feelings will change.”
You can’t help how your breath quickens, chest trembling with anger. It only becomes worse when Sauron puts his fingers to your chin, coaxing you to twist your neck and look up into his piercing eyes. “You must know it pains me,” he says, “treating you like—”
“Like you have treated countless others?” your father intercedes in haste.
Sauron’s attention turns to Celebrimbor then, as your father had no doubt hoped it would. The whole time he’d been working, his eyes kept straying to you, as if to make sure you are still alive and whole. To your relief, Sauron removes his hand from your face. To your dread, he is now moving towards Celebrimbor, displeased with his remark.
“Like Morgoth treated me,” he corrects, hovering over your father.
You are not bound. You could, in theory, try to run. But you are not foolish enough to believe you could escape. Any such attempt would only earn you a shackle of your own, similar to your father’s. Though, you’re starting to believe that the cold bite of metal might just be more bearable than the silent imprisonment of your husband’s touch.
Your husband. The word twists in your stomach, carves holes into your heart. It all came so naturally to you when you spoke the vows and sealed the bond. Now, you can’t imagine how you got here. All you know are the facts of what happened, and even those no longer seem to make sense in your weakened mind.
You know who you used to be, when the world still made sense: daughter of Celebrimbor, the greatest of Elven smiths. You think his talents mixed with your mother’s magic may have resulted in your gift to manipulate materials in particular ways which do not necessarily come naturally. You know the mithril had refused to be coaxed into joining with the other metals without your intervention. You know Halbrand had been the one to suggest that you try it.
You know how easily he had endeared himself to you from the moment you met, and how confusing and sharp the pain had been when he disappeared without a trace. You know how quick you had been to let him into Eregion when he returned, despite Galadriel’s inexplicable request that you refrain from doing so.
You know the transition from Halbrand to Annatar had been unexpected, if not jarring, but in the end the pull you felt towards him was unchanged. You know there were touches, desire... trust.
You no longer know why. Because there never was a reason—not a true one, anyway. Only his deception, his mind games. But at the time, you didn’t know. At the time, it had made perfect sense when, one night, you had found yourself at the dining table, anxious about giving your father the news of what had happened a mere few hours prior.
Annatar was to your side, sitting at the head of the long table, while your father was across from you. He may be the Lord of Eregion, but he had insisted that an emissary of the Valar should take the most important seat. Yet despite your father’s deep admiration for Annatar, you were not sure how he would react.
“As you know,” you began tentatively, “Lord Annatar has been a close and trusted friend to me, these past few weeks. As he has been to you.”
“Indeed,” your father nodded. His unsure smile and knitted brow told you he was at a loss for what you were leading up to. You opened your mouth, but found yourself quite tongue-tied. You glanced at Annatar, who graciously took over.
“However,” he continued, lips forming a gentle, almost bashful smile, “after a time, we found that there were... deeper feelings between us.”
Though he was speaking to Celebrimbor, his gaze sought yours. You met it, heart fluttering as he wrapped your hand in his, resting them on the table in such a way that the new ring on your finger was in your father’s line of sight.
“Annatar has proposed marriage, father,” you finally say, turning to him. “And I have accepted.”
Your father blinked, eyebrows lifting in an expression of wordless surprise. When words failed to leave his mouth, Annatar took it upon himself to break the silence once more.
“My friend, I...” He trailed off, uncharacteristically hesitant in his choice of words. “I am well aware I should have asked for your blessing beforehand. Especially since things have progressed with such unusual haste, but—”
“Oh, nonsense!” your father burst out, as if finally regaining his senses. “Nonsense, my friend, this...” A short laugh bubbled out of him as he turned to you with a face-splitting grin. “Such wonderful news! Oh, my dear,” he took your hand in his, gazing in wonder upon your betrothal ring before he pressed a kiss filled with fatherly love to your knuckles. “You could not have found a better match,” he praised.
“The same is true for myself,” Annatar said, giving you that kind smile of his that never failed to have you return it.
Relief washed over you. All was well.
You’d be lying to say there isn’t a part of you that resents your father for giving you away so eagerly. He could not stop you no matter who you chose to wed, but with anyone else, he’d have at the very least warned you that the engagement had happened much too quickly. He’d have been more cautious of your betrothed, tried to determine whether or not their intentions towards you were true. But Annatar, in your father’s eyes, was of divine nature, and the thought of becoming kin with one of his kind had filled your father with such pride, it overshadowed all else.
You wonder if he is as ashamed of that moment now as you are. And of everything that came after.
You’re not sure if speaking the wedding vows had somehow allowed Sauron better dominion over your mind, or if you were simply too far gone by then. Little by little, more and more over time, you came to depend on your husband. When your father began acting strange and ill-tempered, Annatar alone knew of his ailment, and he alone could help him heal. He alone could provide the comfort you needed as you watched your father lose himself by the day, unaware that the same was happening to you.
He always knew when and what to say to bring you peace. He never seemed to leave your side, whether in the presence of others or alone. And you craved being alone with him more than anything else. He was an expert lover, so attuned to the needs of your flesh, it was as though he could slither beneath your skin and discern for himself which of his touches felt the most exquisite. Being near him was a delight in itself, but intimacy with him was simply addictive.
Warm morning light flooded through your window, and you wondered how you were supposed to ever leave this bed. Lying on your husband’s chest, skin to skin in the afterglow of your love-making, everything else in the world seemed so inconsequential in comparison.
“Do you ever sleep?” you asked, wondering suddenly how it had never crossed your mind before. He was always by your side as you drifted to sleep—most often spent from yet another passionate exchange—and he was there to greet you each time you awoke. Yet he was not of your kind, and an emissary of the Valar seemed to you above such things as sleep.
“It is not in my nature to sleep,” he admitted, fingers tracing gentle lines up and down your spine. “But I rather enjoy laying by your side as you do.”
Your heart soared at the quiet adoration in his voice. And before long, you found yourself aching for him once more. You brushed his neck with your lips, lightly at first, and then with more insistence, making your desire known.
“Again?” he asked, faintly amused.
You lifted your head, the smallest furrow in your brow. “Does it bother you?”
“Not in the least,” he replied. If that wasn’t reassurance enough, his lips caught yours, and he moved so that your body was safely beneath his, and even the thousandth time would not have been enough.
You can still taste his kisses—and they feel like ash. You remember how each time you became one, it felt better, but only now can you see how it made things so much worse. A corner of your mind, growing larger by the day, was always occupied by him. Each time you aided in the making of one of your father’s Ring designs, you did so with thoughts of Annatar. You know now why he wanted it that way—your craving for his touch, your utter devotion to him, seeping into the Rings the Power, one by one. You think you might have known even then. But he was always careful not to push you too far, to bring you back from the brink of suspicion before it ever started to take shape in your mind.
Even when the reality of things was undeniable before your eyes.
Your last night before finding out had been spent in a dreadful haze. Sleep felt more like a waking prison as you dreamt of terrible, yet distant things, hearing screams without seeing where they came from, seeing blood and ashes on streets you felt you should but could not recognize. You were grateful to wake up and see the sunlit sky beyond your window. Its light adorned your husband’s hair beautifully, the familiar sight of him sitting on the edge of your bed bringing you further relief.
“There you are,” he greeted softly, brow creased with a trace of concern. “You gave us quite the scare.”
“What—?” Your attempt to speak ended in a cough, as if you’d been breathing dust instead of air. Annatar left your side in haste, returning but a moment later with a glass of water.
“Here,” he said, putting the glass to your lips. You took it gladly, relishing the water soothing your throat. Once Annatar had helped you sit up and settle against the pillows, you asked, as you had meant to, “What happened?”
There was pity in his gaze. “Don’t you remember, my love?”
You shut your eyes, trying to grasp at figments of blurry images. “I was outside, I think. Mirdania was there. And you. And...”
Annatar shook his head, speaking as softly as if to a frightened child. “Earlier in the day, perhaps. When you collapsed, you were in the forge, with me and Lord Celebrimbor. When you sought to aid your father in merging the metals for his latest attempt at the Nine, your efforts over these past weeks took their toll on you.” He gave you a sympathetic smile, fingers brushing your cheek. “You fell right into my arms.”
“I did?”
His words did evoke images. The memory was there, somewhere. But the more you tried to reach for it, the more your insides churned.
“Be at ease,” Annatar soothed. “You merely slept through the night. I have watched over you all the while, and I shall do so until you are better.”
Better. Yes, you would get better.
But you knew, deep in your bones, that you were not well. The sense of dread within you refused to recede, lingering in the furthest corner of your mind even in the moments where you felt the safest. Something deeply rooted in you wanted it all to be over—the work, the forging, the ailments, your father’s as well as yours. You wished so desperately for things to return to the way they used to be before the Rings, it felt as though a great fist had clenched around your heart and refused to release it. But then again, before the Rings, there hadn’t been Annatar. And your need for him hurt just as terribly.
In the end, everything hurt. Everything.
“Are you in pain?” your husband murmured. You hadn’t realized tears were already sliding down your cheeks.
You broke into sobs.
He slipped beneath the covers and wrapped you in his arms. It became even harder to breathe, and you clung to him all the harder for it, desperate to find that peace that he had offered you time and again.
“Hush, my love,” he cooed, holding you close to his chest as you wept for reasons unknown. “All will be well soon.”
You had fallen into his arms, just like he’d said. Only, you hadn’t been inside the forge, but outside, just as your mind had fruitlessly struggled to remind you. You were there when the siege alarms began to blare and chaos erupted in the streets. When you saw your husband walk amongst it, you had run to him at once. Asking where your father was, wanting to stand united with your kin amidst the unfolding madness.
Darkness had engulfed your vision instead, shrouding your memory as well. He must have carried you back to your chambers himself, crafting an illusion within your mind to match the one in which Celebrimbor was already trapped.
It makes sense now. How desperately you had clung to the very source of your misery. One cannot satisfy thirst by drinking sea water, but you, in your foolishness, had drunk enough to drain the sea.
“You chose it,” he now tells your father, speaking of the suffering he had inflicted, “not I.”
And there’s a part of you that believes him, even as another screams inside you that his words are poison. You cling desperately to the scrap of reason within you which recognizes that his claims are atrocious—that it is Celebrimbor who forced Sauron to torment him, that he is the true author of his own torment. You watch in disbelief, feeling as though you’re falling through the floor, waiting for your father to refute Sauron’s lies as if hearing the truth spoken out loud will save you from shattering to pieces at the bottom of the abyss.
And you can tell he wants to. There is defiance in Celebrimbor’s eyes as he glances to you, the fire of his will still burning beneath the burden of his torment. But, slowly and surely, he tames it. Averts his gaze in shame.
“Very well,” your father says. “Give me the blame. Punish me as you see fit. You have already taken my city. But I beg you,” his voice trembles, tears gathering in his eyes, “let my daughter leave.”
A smirk tugs at Sauron’s lips. “Your daughter...” He returns to your side, gathering your stiff hand in his and thumbing your wedding ring. “...is my wife, Celebrimbor. It is only natural that she should remain at my side.”
You and Celebrimbor exchange a despairing glance. Your father, determined to plea for your freedom—you, fearing the consequences he might bring upon himself.
“Please—”
“Father, don’t—”
“No!” he cries out. “I all but pushed you into his arms.” Tears slip from his regret-filled eyes. “That is my fault.”
Sauron takes a seat next to you, his brow furrowed as if he couldn’t possibly grasp the reason for such grievances.
“She has given herself to me freely,” he says, your hand still trapped in his as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Have you not?”
You glare daggers at him.
“How could I have chosen you freely, when I never knew who you were?” you hiss. It does nothing to deter him.
“Why do you lie to yourself? You knew.” You shake your head. He nods his, insisting, “Yes. Deep within your heart, you knew.”
“Don’t say such things to her,” Celebrimbor pleads, “I beg you—”
“Such things as the truth, Celebrimbor?” Sauron asks roughly, irritated by the interruption. “Tell him, my dear wife,” he challenges, “that you never once suspected I was more than what I claimed to be. That you never felt the caress of darkness within my touch.”
You cannot look at him, or at your father. You cannot speak those words, however desperately you wish you could.
“Tell him,” Sauron insists cruelly, squeezing your hand to the point of near pain.
“I did,” you murmur miserably. Sauron loosens his threatening grip on your hand, pleased.
“Yet even as you cried yourself to sleep in fear of it,” he goes on, “it was within my arms that you took comfort. Because, in truth, you were not afraid of who I was—you were afraid of how little it mattered to you.” A last spark of defiance drives you to make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and his sickly sympathetic smile makes you shudder within his hold. “He needed to create,” he reasons. “You needed to be desired. And I needed you both.”
His arm is no longer around you, but the relief is meager and short-lived as he then cups your cheek, thumb catching the tears that have begun to fall from your eyes. He insists to hold his hand there as you flinch, screwing your eyes shut. A small sigh leaves him.
“Have I not treated you well?” he asks. “Was I not kind to you when you most needed it? A caring husband, a most... generous lover?”
“Hold your wicked tongue!” you all but growl, your head jerking with enough force that he retracts his hand. Your eyes fly to Celebrimbor, and see that he has shut his in great pain. Shame crawls under your skin. Sauron smiles in a mockery of bashfulness.
“Forgive me for speaking of such matters before your father, but it is only the truth. You must admit that. And it need not change.”
His hand returns to your cheek then, pressed more firmly to it, and you only now realize it’s the one he cut. You feel a warm wetness on your skin, and know that once he removes it, his blood, black as the pitch, would be smeared there, marking you even further as his.
“The Rings are nearly finished,” you say through gritted teeth. “You never truly desired me. What more use could you have of me?”
“Who says I never desired you?” he whispers, almost as if wounded. “I would not have made you my wife, if it hadn’t been my wish to make you my Queen as well.”
His voice is so alluring, so saccharine and familiar to your ears, it takes everything in you to remind yourself that every word is a lie. And if you grasp at reason, you can tell why he speaks them. Because of your involvement in making the Rings, you would always have some measure of influence over them, so it serves him well to have you under his control. But not only that. He would relish knowing he has subdued you to his will. That he not only ensnared the mind of the greatest of Elven smiths, but also claimed his daughter as his prize.
A storm brews in Sauron’s eyes as he senses your persisting reluctance. His fingers grip your chin, pulling you close so that his breath falls on your cheek as he speaks.
“You will say yes to me once more.”
You hate how determined he is to make it so. You hate how helpless you are to do anything other than glare back at him.
But what you hate the most is that you are not certain he is wrong.
if you bled
halbrand/sauron x fem!elf!reader
summary: you fell in love with halbrand because he was everything you ever wanted. but you didn't know who he really was. not until now.
warnings: angst, reader gets disappointed (i mean it’s sauron??) but wants to give in to the darkness
word count: 1.4k
author’s note: here i am, writing another fic about our beloved dark lord. i listened to syml’s where’s my love - alternate version and let myself just go with it. this is how it turned out and i really hope you like it. xx ps: i think there’s gonna be a second part. 🙂↔️
You already knew that you would fall deeply in love with him when you first saw him.
He was beautiful.
His soft lips and his hands that felt so perfect in yours. And there were these little wrinkles that formed at the edges of his eyes whenever he smiled.
But it was his green eyes that managed to cast a spell on you. They were so deep that it seemed almost impossible to ever let go again.
With each passing day, you could see more in him. The lost king who would never stop fighting until his last breath. With every second, you began to understand him more and fell in love with the idea that he could save you. From the pain that had happened to you in your past and the pain that would await you in the future.
You always felt a little less broken by his side.
And when Galadriel found out who he really was, everything you should feel was contempt. But you could never hate him. It was too late for that.
There was only the pain of not telling you the truth himself. All he had said to you was an illusion for what you had most desired. It had never been real.
“Have you been listening to me?” Galadriel’s voice tears you away from your thoughts. “Halbrand is not who you thought he was! He deceived you, he deceived us all,” she says and waits for your reaction. But all you can do is to look at her.
Memories started to play before your inner eyes. Of what had happened and dreams of what you wished would happen.
Above all, Halbrand, who touched you in a way that no one ever had before. In every possible way.
You can still feel his warm breath on your skin and his fingers gently stroking the fabric of the dress on your hip while he stands behind you.
His voice, just a gentle breath in your ear and the goosebumps it causes on your body.
His promise to take away the darkness inside you.
His lips gently dancing over your neck and making you sigh.
And the following kiss that set everything inside you ablaze. The harbinger of a fire that could burn down all of Middle Earth.
“No…” the word comes out in a whisper and you shake your head as a tear runs down your cheek.
Before Galadriel can say anything else, you turn away from her and leave the room to run up the steps of the tower to the top where the forge is located.
Your eyes immediately fall on Celebrimbor, who is looking down at something with a smile. Elrond is standing next to him and looks less thrilled, his gaze first on you, then back to the stone table.
You step closer and now you can understand why Elrond's gaze is so serious.
There were three rings lying there, each one more beautiful than the other. You are drawn to them as if by magic, you can no longer look away.
“They are... beautiful.” You slowly stretch out your hand, wanting to touch one of them, when Elrond clears his throat.
Your gaze wanders upwards and you see him shaking his head. It was a silent warning which makes you lower your hand again.
Galadriel slowly enters the forge behind you and also comes closer. “I can't believe it actually worked,” you hear her say, but your attention remains on the rings.
They sparkle in the light of the slowly setting sun and remind you of the glow in his eyes.
You hear Galadriel and Elrond talking to each other, but you don't understand them. It was if they were far away from you. All you can think about is Halbrand and the pain he left behind in you. As well as the never ending longing in your heart.
The desire to finally surrender to the darkness, now that it threatens to devour you from all sides.
Only when your name is mentioned and Galadriel puts her hand on your arm, you are torn from your thoughts.
You pull away from her touch, shaking your head and you see the pain in her eyes. But you don’t care about it, just as she doesn’t seem to care about yours.
“I... have to go. Don't try to stop me,” you say quietly and look one last time at Elrond and Celebrimbor, who are both frowning worriedly, then you turn around and run down the stairs again.
You don’t see that Galadriel tries to follow you, but Elrond stops her. He seems to know, that you needed to be alone now.
When you get downstairs, you hurry through the hall that is still lit by the last rays of the sun. You wanted to get away from there as far as possible.
But you stop at the sound of a voice. It is his voice, no doubt about it. You slowly turn around as he steps out from behind a pillar.
He looks different than the last time you saw him, but still so beautiful. Your gazes meet and it takes your breath away, just like always.
All you can do is to watch, as he comes closer. But when he holds out his hand to you, you flinch away.
He immediately frowns until he seems to understand and a certain hardness flashes in his eyes. “So Galadriel told you?” he asks.
You nod slowly and look him in the eyes to find out what he must be feeling, but he doesn't let you in.
“You should have told me yourself, Halbrand,” you begin, looking him dead in the eyes. “Oh wait, that is not your name, right?”, you add, crossing your arms in front of your chest.
But no matter how strong your disappointment is, you know, that you could never escape his darkness. Not now that you know, that this darkness also lives in you. Not when he holds your heart in his hands.
Halbrand holds your gaze and takes another step towards you. This time you don't back away. Not even when he carefully separates your arms. “And what would it have changed if you had known?” he asks with a rough voice and looks down at you.
“It would have simply changed everything. Because you would have never deceived me like you did,” you answer and you can hear your own desperation in your voice. “All of that was an illusion of what I always wanted. And you used that against me. You used me. It was all a lie,” you add with a whisper and you can't hold back another tear.
Halbrand raises one of his hands to your face and catches the tear with his thumb. He smears it on your skin as he strokes your cheek, watching as it glistens in the sunlight.
He looks at you with a gentle gaze, even a little desperate. As if your words touch him deeply.
As suddenly footsteps sound behind you, he gently pulls you into the shadows, the part of the hall that is no longer lit by the sun.
You feel the cold stone wall at your back and resist the urge to lean into his touch.
“You're wrong,” Halbrand finally says and you look him in the eyes again. “I never lied to you. I was just not completely honest about one thing...” he pauses and slowly moves his face closer to you. “I never intended to take the darkness from you. I wanted you to surrender to it,” he finally breathes against your lips and you close your eyes.
His arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you closer to his body. “I wanted you to surrender to me,” he adds, his mouth now on your ear.
You can't help but shiver as his breath brushes over your neck, causing goosebumps on your body. But instead of kissing you there, he pulls away from you again and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
“As much as I would like you to do it right now, this is not the right time,” Halbrand whispers and you begin to understand.
“You're not really here, am I right?” Just then you notice the blood on the right corner of his mouth. It hadn't been there before.
Suddenly he seems completely different, as if he was dropping his facade. His face is dirty and his clothes have seen better days too. You put your hand gently on his cheek and caress the blood with your thumb.
“What has happened? Where are you?” you ask quietly and raise your gaze to look into his eyes, but there is secrecy in them. He wouldn't tell you.
“Please, Halbrand, tell me where you are. Let me come to you,” you say, but he shakes his head and takes your face between his hands.
The look in his eyes leaves no room for protest and you know you wouldn’t resist him. You never could.
“No. You will stay in Eregion. I will find my way back to you, i promise.” Those are the last words you hear, then you find yourself alone in the hall again, surrounded by complete darkness.
And you are more than ready to drown in it.
2024 | notreallythatlost
oh well, the tea is getting hooot
And Comes Dawn pt iii
Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader, more ships/love triangles to come, though, so stay tuned.
Summary: the deciver has decided he must get rid of you until a stranger reignites his curiosity in an unexpected way.
Word count: 2k
Notes: let me know if you wanna be tagged. I was not expecting this many people to like this fic. Thank you so much for the feed back, I read every comment and reblog multiple times. Keep any and all feedback coming. I'm super invested in this series and have so many plans that I'm so excited to write.
Tags/warning: male masturbation, nothing super explicit but sauron has some pretty unhealthy kinks, slow burn, saurons post nut clarity is murder plotting, sauron being sauron. galadriel finally shows up, cliffhanger
“She does nothing but sit there, day in and day out. Our rations are wasted on her!”
“All of us sit and do nothing because there is fucking nothing to do.”
Halbrand and the older man were fighting again. Halbrand had become annoyed that the other had declared himself the de facto leader of the raft, and his anger exploded when it was proclaimed you had not 'earned' your rations. He had obviously found it absolutely insane and when you made no sound or protest, he took it upon himself to make it known how insane it was.
“I am the leader here. I have organized the rations, I have kept order, and I have directed where we go.” The other man seemed offended. He had proven himself to be rather arrogant, and you held no surprise that he would suggest such a thing or believe that he was the leader of the raft.
“Oh great Lord of the Raft. How difficult your job must be. Deciding if we die a little to the west or a little to the east.” Halbrand rolled his eyes as he spoke.
“Be sarcastic all you want. She's lucky we don't throw her in.”
The air stilled and a dark shadow passed over Halbrands face, his jaw clenched and in a moment he had grabbed the other by their shirt, “The moment you do that is the moment I feed you and every single person on this raft to the wyrm.” Their faces merely inches apart, Halbrands voice was cold, full of hatred, and it sent a chill over everyone on the raft. The older man stared up at him with fear, a fear so palpable and intense that it was as if he was looking into the eyes of the great foe himself.
“Halbrand,” you spoke softly, fingers gently wrapping around his wrist and moving him away. “This is not what I wish.”
He turned to look at you and his gaze softened,tongue peaking out to wet his lips. The air flowed again, and the darkness lifted, “You wish to starve? Because that's his wish, that's his plan. He wants to make our supply of food last longer by taking the very little portion you have. He knows you would never say anything to him, and you can not ask me to sit back and watch you starve, sweet one.” His eyes searched your face as he spoke with such earnest conviction.
“I do not wish for you to murder in my name,” you replied in a passionate whisper.
Halbrand nodded, sighing softly, “Then I will not,” he leaned closer to you, so his lips were next to your ear, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. Your breath caught in your voice as he whispered softly, “Know that I would, though. If you only asked, I would burn this raft and everyone on it to keep you safe.”
He pulled away and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head as you stood speechless. The butterflies in your stomach exploded. This was new. Your interactions had been purely platonic until this point. He never presented himself as someone more than a friend, and you had been content with that. Yet you enjoyed the feeling of his lips on your forehead and greatly missed them when they were gone.
The talk of murdering everyone else was one you didn't wish to dwell on. Perhaps it was hyperbolic. Perhaps said in anger. Either way, those were thoughts for another time. Now, you would embrace the shivers and butterflies.
“Well, your highness, she will be eating today and I will ensure it,” Halbrand gave the man a pointed look and the other simply nodded, his eyes still swimming as if he'd seen some great horror but you were too fixated on the ghost of Halbrands kiss that lingered on your forehead to pay it much mind.
~
He'd taken the deception too far when he placed that kiss upon your head. He regretted it the moment he did it. The taste of your skin stained his lips, and it was all he could think of. Your skin felt unbelievably soft and he could just imagine what your lips would taste like, your tongue, your cunt.
Your cunt. The thought of it had been all consuming. Warm and wet. Soft and velvety. He ached to feel it, to taste it, to take it. The thoughts had led to his current position, standing at the edge of the raft with his cock in his fist. This act felt below him but the thoughts wouldn't leave his mind and he needed some relief from them. From the thoughts of you.
Thoughts of your cunt.
Warm and wet. Soft and velvet.
His eyes fluttered, and his breath caught in his throat. He hated every second of this. He had no control. Ever since you looked up at him with those eyes of yours, eyes he wanted to make weep as you choked on his cock. He breathed a soft curse as he imagined your sweet, innocent eyes looking up at him with your lips wrapped around his cock. His thumb collected the precum from his tip and worked it around his shaft, the soft wet sounds filling the night.
Would you be inexperienced? Had someone claimed you before? You were his and his alone, his precious sweet one. The thought of someone else having you first filled him with such rage. He would drench his hands in their blood and paint your body with it as he fucked you. His hands around your neck, squeezing enough to feel your life thrumming underneath his fingers.
You were his and his alone. No one else could touch you, no other lips taste you, no other cock take you. He'd burn all of Middle Earth to ensure it, torture any man who dared look at you. He'd carve his name into your flesh, lick the blood off your skin. A growl escaped his lips, the thought of his name scared into your soft skin. His hand tightened around his cock and his movements increased in speed.
His breathing got more ragged as he got closer to his peak, your name tumbling past his lips in a choked whisper. He could almost imagine you whining and whimpering his name, his real name. That was what sent him over, the visual of you impaled on his cock and desperately calling his name. He groaned loudly, his seed shooting into the water.
Breathing heavily, his eyes closed. Almost immediately, the cacophony of thoughts entered his mind. That had been a brief reprieve, but now his existential crisis continued. What was his purpose? Who was he now that his master was dead? Power and control, how could he have both without sacrificing the other?
And then your smiling face flashed through his mind, the sound of your laugh...-
This couldn't continue. No amount of curiosity was worth this loss of control. He was a god, but his mind as of late had been reminiscent of a teenage boy. Thoughts may plague him, but he would forget you within the age. He needed you gone, dead. The longer you stayed alive, the longer these damn lustful thoughts would plague him and be his undoing. He was slowly losing his sanity because of you.
The problem was he couldn't do it. He tried mere minutes before giving into these urges, but as he looked at your sleeping face, he couldn't bring himself to push you in and under the waves. In thousands of years, no one had been able to still his blade or stay his hand with such ease. He couldn't look at you and take your life. He could not be the one to do it, that thought alone proving to be more a reason for your death. Weakness was not something he would tolerate.
His mind called out to wyrm, calling it to their location. If he couldn't do it, he'd give the task to something else. By nightfall tomorrow, you'd be gone. You'd be at the bottom of the sea or in the belly of the beast. By nightfall, he'd have his mind back.
Why did the thought of your death fill him with such dread?
~
He wouldn't even look at you. You'd greeted him in the morning, and he ignored you. You sat next to him, and he moved to the other side of the raft. You watched as his eyes bore into planks of the raft. You wet your lips and pulled it between your teeth. He was your first friend in a very long time, and now you had lost him for reasons that escaped you. You were utterly alone, lost at sea, and you struggled to find hope here. All you could do is close your eyes and remind yourself that falling into despair would do nothing more than make the situation worse and more hopeless.
You watched the clouds pass in the sky, counting them, and your fingers tapped away at the wood. Every few moments, you had to blink away the tears that had started welling in your eyes as you thought of losing another person you cared for. Suddenly, you sat up as you heard what you thought was a voice in the air. You squinted as your eyes examined the fog.
“There's a voice on the water.” You spoke quietly.
Almost instantly, bickering broke amongst the others. To save her or not. You shook your head, “We're not leaving her to starve and die!”
One of the others pulled her up and gave her water as you grabbed her a chunk of bread and looked for a piece of cloth or something that could bring the stranger some warmth. The bickering continued as you searched and returned with a piece of bread.
“Suppose you'll be sharing your rations?” the old man asked.
You couldn't help the roll of your eyes, “Damn the rations,” you kneeled and handed the stranger the bread. “It's not much, but it's something. Are you hurt?”
Before she could answer, one of the others asked, “What are you doing out here?”
The stranger took the bread, “I was separated from my ship.”
You looked at her with empathy. Of course, you could understand. She looked over at you as if to answer your question next, but she stopped, her eyes examining your face as if she knew you but was unable to place how. It made you uncomfortable, made your heart still. Has your past caught up with you all the way out here?
“She doesn't look dangerous,” the other woman spoke.
“Looks can be deceiving,” Halbrand spoke, and you were about to protest when you saw the point to her ears. Your blood ran cold, and you moved back from her.
“Remove your hand from me, sir,” the stranger spoke, her attention returning to you. “I know your face.”
You quickly stood up and stepped back. This could not be happening. Not here. Not now. Perhaps the elf could save you, or perhaps she would convince the others to throw you into the sea. The sins of your father would never stop chasing you, it seemed.
~
“I know your face."
His head snapped your direction at this revelation. What did that mean? How would an elf know you? He watched your reaction, the fear and shame passing over your face confirming that there was a story there. He cursed silently.
All day, he avoided looking at you. All day, he had convinced himself that you were nothing more than a naive human, that the warmth he felt had to be in relation to this new form getting used to the world around him. There was nothing special about you. Nothing at all. He repeated it over and over, though he never really believed it. He could sense the darkness and calamity swimming through the ocean towards them, the beast he had called, and he had convinced himself that your death would solve his internal struggle.
But now, this damn elf had reignited the curiosity with vigor. It felt as if an inferno burnt through him. He had to know more. He knew when the wyrm came, he would be unable to leave you to death. You were the most curious thing, and it was infuriating.
Who were you?