#broken romance

[fallencalliope]

Trying to kill the time,

Seconds in the hours slowly passing,

I gave up counting the minutes,

Becoming numb to feeling,

Accepting the momentum,

That I will never see your face again...

©️randik86

[thereisverylittleleftofme]

love songs

every love song was about you, once.

now i drive too fast down windy roads,

and turn the music up too loud

as if it will bring that feeling back.

i search the lyrics, begging to understand

why i loved you

[medi-bee]

[regalpotato]

Astarion: Fake vs Real - I love you

[kasagia]

Tolerate it

Pairing: Annatar/Sauron x fem!maia! reader Summary: You were with him from the beginning of his existence, from the first break of the silence. You blindly and faithfully followed him—your great, epic love, doing everything to help him, to stay with him no matter what. Sauron was Morgoth's shadow. And you were Mairon's shadow. What will you do when you realise that your devotion is no longer valued and desired by him? Author's Note: I'm actually proud of this one… I shouldn't say this, but it's my favorite so far. Hope you will like it too! <3 Halbrand's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

I know my love should be celebrated... but you tolerate it.

- "Tolerate it" by Taylor Swift

You watched carefully as Sauron spoke to the people of Eregion, showering them with his charming smiles and sweet promises. You stared at him, analysing his every little move, seeing the traces of lies and deceit on his face as he tried hard to get on their good side, to deceive them into not seeing through his vision what was really happening behind the castle walls.

You wonder if he did the same to you. When he assured you that Galadriel was just an annoying elf, an obstacle to his plans, could you have detected a hint of deceit in his voice and face if you had looked closely enough? Did he also smile at you sweetly, lying to you directly, only to congratulate himself a moment later and be happy that he had managed to deceive you and suppress your any doubts in him, that would have been inconvenient for his plans?

"My love." He murmurs against your ear, surprising you and tearing you out of your thoughts for a moment.

You flinch as he wraps his arms around you, but he takes it as a shiver of surprise, not disgust. Because how could you, blindly in love with him for centuries, ever untangle yourself from his web of beautiful lies? You wonder if he ever loved you at all, if you were just a toy for him to use from the start.

"You're quiet today. And distant. Is everything alright?" Usually that attentive, caring look he gave you was enough to awaken a wonderful, warm feeling of security and peace within you.

You wonder how many times you've fallen for that illusion of concern for you? How many times has his false concern for you cheered you up? How many times has he laughed behind your back at your naivety?

"Yes. Celebrimbor is making your rings. He should be finishing the Nine soon." You respond, wondering if he'll keep teasing you, if he'll actually care about your feelings. Or if he'll just pat you on the back like a loyal pet for good behaviour and leave you to his own plans like he's been doing lately.

"That's wonderful." He mumbles and presses his lips to your forehead. In any other situation, you would consider it a very affectionate and desirable gesture. But now… his lips burned you. And not in a pleasant way. "Watch over him for me a little longer, my love. Our work here is not over yet. I must make sure that the people of Eregion do not realise what is really happening for a few more hours. Will you keep an eye on him for me, my heart?"

My heart, my love, my dearest... so many beautiful words, words that were hard to hear from him a hundred years ago, now poured from his lips so easily like honey... or wine, which you were supposed to intoxicate yourself with, so as not to open your eyes. Just like the inhabitants of the city he was bringing doom to, as if they meant nothing.

Just like you probably were to him…

"Of course, my darling." You respond with the most genuine smile you can muster. Luckily, he either doesn't notice or doesn't care that you're faking your smile for him. He steals a quick, short kiss and walks away from you in the opposite direction—towards the western gates.

You sigh, leaning against the cool wall of the marble hallway and pressing a hand to your lips. You squeeze your eyes shut, seeing white spots as you try to somehow break free from the situation you've found yourself in.

Uncontrollable sobs wrack your body as the ring he'd forged for you falls from your hand—the ring that was a faint illusion of the real Nenya, which had befallen Galadriel instead of you, which Sauron had given to Galadriel instead of you.

Your heart clenches painfully as you recall the words he spoke to one of the elves last night. Words you accidentally overheard after you went looking for him when he didn't return to your chambers as he had promised you he would.

"Your hair… in this light it reminds me of my lady Galadriel's hair."

His lady Galadriel.

You've survived and gone through a lot of torture, but hearing him speak with such… affection and adoration in his tone of voice about another woman makes you suffer worse than the worst torture you've been throught.

The worst part was that you didn't know what he saw in her. She was just an elf. An elf bearing the light of Valinor—the same light he had forced you to give up for him. If it was so unpleasant to him, why had he been so fascinated by this arrogant elf? Why had he given her Nenya—the ring that was supposed to be yours? Why had he made you feel like the other woman when you were his most loyal soldier—the one who had stood by him through thick and thin?

You hiss as you clench your fists so hard that black blood spills from under your nails, dug into your palm. Through your watery eyes, you watch as the evidence of your corruption—black sap—runs down your palm, staining the metal of the ring he gave you.

You want to take it off, throw it out the window, and never look at this searing reminder of how much you truly meant to him, but you were too far gone. You couldn’t imagine your life without him.

He had become your master, your Valar, your support, your shelter, your heaven and hell, your everything. And for a while, you had been blinded enough to believe that you were just as important and precious to him as he was to you.

You stand before the forge door, feeling like a small child waiting for someone to call you inside—to grant you permission to enter. You wonder when exactly you became so obedient to him. If you could think back to the times when Sauron was just Mairon, Aulë's apprentice, in his forge, you would remember how different you were from who you were today. You were more confident, happier, and filled with light and love for the man who created wondrous, beautiful, unimaginable things under Valar's watchful eye.

You wonder if he was like this already or if Morgoth was slowly injecting poison into his soul. Could you have really prevented his fall? Could you have made sure he never left the forge? Was the fall between the two of you really your fault, the one you were paying for now as you watched your love slip away from you, or was it never truly true? You don't know. You don't want to know. You already feel like you're going mad without his touch and his tender words, without the certainty that you still have some remnant of his soul and love in a heart that clearly stopped beating for you ages ago.

You flinch as the door swings open. Sauron emerges from the forge in a huff, stained with the blood of the elf who forged his beloved rings. He stops, surprised to see you standing in front of the door. You stare at each other for a moment, left in a dull, heavy silence. You break under his intense gaze and instead shift your gaze to the blood stain that has soaked into the black silk material on his chest.

He looked... both angry and agitated, uncertain. You wonder what exactly Celebrimbor had said to him—what exactly had moved him so much that you could see his eyes glaze over for a brief moment before he realised you were waiting for him outside the door.

"Galadriel has them." He informs you, panting with rage. You frown, shifting your gaze uncertainly back to his face.

Thankfully, he’s no longer meeting your gaze. You wonder if it’s because he has the decency to feel guilty about his feelings for the elf, or if he can’t think of her when he looks at you.

You quickly push that thought out of your head. He had everything except decency.

"What?"

"My rings." He growls, looking at you again. You tremble under his dark gaze. HIS rings. Not yours. Not yours. Like all his plans lately - they belonged only to him. "The Orcs will escort you to Mordor. I have a few more things to attend to before I will join you."

You just nod, unsure how else to respond to his words.

You know perfectly well what he wants to do, even if he hasn't told you his entire plan. You know that Adar will soon meet his end at the hands of your beloved. Another life will be taken by him. And with each one, your eyes opened wider and wider.

You gasp as he suddenly covers the distance between you with quick steps and presses you against the wall behind you. He grabs you brutally by the neck and kisses you. Greedily, hungrily, avidly. The force with which he takes your lips and breath is so great that you can't mistake this kiss for anything other than marking his territory. And you know perfectly well that this is exactly what he wants to do.

What he always did.

How blind you were, never seeing that what kept him with you was fear of loneliness, the desire to possess something. You gave him your heart, your soul, your body, everything—without blinking an eye, without a moment's hesitation.

And you watched him tolerate your devotion to him.

As if what you gave him rightfully belonged to him. As if you were ought to bind yourself to him, to be utterly his.

He pulls away from you, cupping your cheeks in his bloody hands and spreading the blood across your skin with his thumbs, staining you with his sins once again. All you can do is stand there, trembling in his grip as he presses his lips to your forehead.

"You're mine. Only mine. Always mine." He brushes his nose against yours, pressing another kiss to your lips. His tongue caresses yours as he tries to reassure himself that you're still caught up in his web of lies and that you still believe in all his tender and sweet gestures that were never really meant to calm your nerves and worries—only him. It was always about him. "You'll look beautiful in a crown next to me. Right, my queen?"

Whatever that elf had told him, it had raised enough doubts in him that Sauron would seek comfort and reassurance from you. A rare thing. Very rare. And you would have treasured that moment, probably remembered it forever, and carved it into your heart if you had not learnt the ugly truth about your relationship.

No matter how much you give yourself to him, he will never be yours in return.

He would never belong to you. He would never celebrate your love; consider it more than something he owed, something he could conquer and flaunt like his rings. You were to be the jewel in his dark crown... right next to Galadriel.

And in that moment you truly envied the elf, for having managed to resist him before he defiled her as he had defiled you.

"Of course, my king." You promise with a smile and lean down to connect his lips with yours—you do what he taught you best. You lie.

Because you know perfectly well that the moment he turns away from you, you will run. Run far away. In the hope that you will escape the darkness that he has rooted in you. In the hope that you can survive, with your heart ripped out and left behind you.

"Have you finally stopped believing his lies? Or is this just another one of your illusions?" You freeze at the sound of Adar's voice behind you.

You turn slowly, watching the fallen elf carefully. Black blood seeps from his temples, but aside from a few wounds on his body, you see no major injuries on the one who once killed your love.

"I thought by now he would have killed you in one of his infamously creative ways." You mock him as you try to ignore the sight of Eregion burning behind him.

"You don't even reach for your weapon? That's an insult, Mistress of Darkness." You shiver at the nickname, playing with the ring on your finger—the very one Sauron had given you—as you consider your answer.

Adar was barely alive. But he was still alive. You wonder how Sauron had retained enough restraint to give him a fate worse than death—watching someone he loved slowly die. In Adar’s case, he had watched his orc children die; in yours, you had watched Mairon die—a death you had been blind to for centuries.

"It is not my intention to fight you." You sigh tiredly, meeting the dark elf's gaze. Something in his demeanour changes. He is less alert, less tense, as if he sees in you the same surrender he had after the clash with your beloved.

"That's funny. I remember you swore one of the worst deaths to me for killing him." You leave his mockery unanswered as you recall that moment. You thought you would go mad with despair and throw yourself at Morgoth's crown, piercing your heart to be reunited with your beloved in the afterlife. With the benefit of hindsight, when you are wiser, you want to laugh at your own stupidity. He played you, your feelings, your mind, and your heart exactly as he wanted. You let him do all he wanted with you, and then you even thanked him for using you. "Has that day finally come? Are you abandoning him to his lust for power?"

The shock in his voice should offend you and drive you to the point of passion and true, unpredictable rage. But it can't. You feel... numb. Empty. Like nothing really matters anymore. And maybe it doesn't, since your soul and heart slowly wither with every second you're not near him.

Pathetic, how after pulling the dagger from your heart that was Sauron's "love," you miss the pain it brought. Even though you accept with relief that you're slowly bleeding to death, you still crave him. Maybe it really was an addiction? An unhealthy obsession that defined who you were? Because who were you really without Sauron?

"Is it really abandonment if he wants to stick with someone else?" You justify yourself, remembering the look in his eyes when he mentioned the elf you hated. You wonder what you envy more, her light or the fact that she truly seemed to have the undivided attention and adoration of a man you would do anything for?

"Galadriel…"

"No one good is ever truly good… and no one bad is ever truly bad." You interrupt him, not wanting to talk about the elf.

You walk over to him and nod for him to sit on the fallen tree trunk next to you. You muster up some mercy towards him (or your own troubled conscience) and staunch his wounds enough for him to pass away in peace... or at least you hope he will.

At least one of you deserved to find peace.

"Is that what you told yourself while being with him?" The silence between you is uncomfortable, but necessary. Necessary for you to realize how much he was really using you. And how much you wanted him to be someone he never was…

"Maybe." You admit quietly, in a barely audible whisper.

Before he can reach for the dagger at his side, you're already pulling away from him and taking his consciousness, putting him into a sleep state. You run, not catching up with yourself, slowing down only to wipe the tears dripping down your cheeks with the back of your hand. The cold metal of Sauron's ring scratches your skin in a painful reminder of your sins.

You pull the hood over your head, using the back of your hand to shake off the snow that had already accumulated as you made your way through the streets in the dark of the night.

It had been a few weeks since you had escaped from Sauron. Weeks spent avoiding his army of orcs, closing the doors to your thoughts to him, and controlling the connection he had created between you in the time you had spent with him.

He had been looking for you—whether out of revenge for your abandonment, longing for you, a desire to punish you and make an example of you, or all three—you didn't figure it out yet. What you did know was that Galadriel had kept her ring, sacrificing the nine, and that Sauron had been gathering his forces to "heal" Middle-Earth, searching every corner he had conquered in the process, looking for you.

But he wasn't the only one looking for you.

Galadriel and Adar had joined forces in the fight against Sauron. And the latter had tried persistently to convince you to stop watching the fight between them. The need to stay away from Sauron was one thing, but the actual thought of hurting him, of being the cause of his downfall… you didn't know if you could survive that. To be honest, you know you wouldn't.

And he knew that too.

That's why he often tried to break down the wall you had put up between you to appear in the form of an illusion. It was often in moments when you thought of him. You're certain you'll never forget the first time he took the opportunity to reach out to you through your connection.

You were lying on a small bed in the inn, staring blankly at the ceiling above you. You had managed to slaughter the orc troop that was chasing you and had made it safely into the city beyond the mountain pass where you had come across them. You didn't know if Sauron had ordered you brought to him dead or alive, but you didn't particularly want to find out just yet.

That's why, after each such "chase," you left behind a trail of orc blood and bodies, escaping to another hole to wait out the danger and re-emerge into the light of day only when he shifted his attention elsewhere. Like you did now.

You lay in the darkness of your miserable room, cursing yourself for not needing sleep like these mortals. How much would you give for your mind to be immersed in the bliss of not a single thought coming to it? To stop fighting and trying so hard to not think about him...

That night you were particularly tired, not only from the fight and the injury you had suffered but also from the whole escape, which had lasted for several weeks. It was nothing in your immortal, long life, but you found those days without him by your side tiring more than any. You wonder what was worse: separation from him or the hardships of escaping from him?

You can't help but wonder what he's doing now. Does he also lie idle, thinking of you? No. That wasn't his style. He'd probably be sitting in some fortress, surrounded by his servants, whom he despised, as he hatched his plans to heal Middle-Earth. A cure that was supposed to be a disease that had begun in him ages ago. That you couldn't see and cure in him.

"Rather miserable and shabby chambers for a queen." You shiver at the sound of his voice echoing through the small room.

You sit up unsteadily, staring at his figure leaning against the door. You blink a few times, convinced that he was a trick of your tired mind, but when he speaks again, you realise that he managed to slip through your barriers and answer your call while you were thinking about him. You had unknowingly dug a rabbit hole for him inside you. And he took advantage of it, crawling through it before you could block him.

"Although… I think this is a room fit for a treacherous queen."

His mockery shakes you out of your strange state of numbness. You stare at him, anger rising in your chest as you hear him accuse you of the one thing he had no right to.

"It is ironic to hear you, of all the creatures, accusing me of cheating, when I was the one who stood faithfully by your side all these years. Besides... you can't say that you didn't see that coming."

"Maybe I am as naive as my queen?" He replies, slowly walking over to you. You get out of bed, standing on the other side of it, desperately trying to put some distance between you.

"Which one? Forgive me, but I'm starting to get a little confused since you're calling so many women by that title." You say, sticking the pin where it hurts.

"Jealous of the elf?"He asks, raising an eyebrow mockingly at you.

"I didn't leave because of jealousy. You know that very well."

Honesty was always something he accepted... worse. He didn't like being vulnerable, showing his cards and saying what he really felt... that's why looks away and tries to change the subject.

"If you come back, I won't punish you too harshly… at least not in a way you don't like." You shiver as memories of your times together—those particularly intense ones, where all you could do was whisper or scream his name, as he destroyed you for anyone else in the sheets of your bed—run through your mind.

“Go back to what?”

"You promised to stand by me. To be my right hand." He responds, offended by the thought that you ask him such a question, that you don't know what awaits you, that he has to explain to you how grateful you should be that he will take you back without any problems.

"I am sure you will find many worthy replacements for me. For example, such a commander of elven forces…"

"I don't want Galadriel." He interrupts you with a sharp, cold tone, irritated that you're bringing up the subject of the elf. He starts to walk around the bed, wanting to get closer to you, and you take a few steps away from him with each one he comes with.

"Did you come to this conclusion before or after she rejected you?" You mock him, watching him closely. And you see perfectly on his face the moment his composure breaks.

After berely a blink of an eye later, he’s standing in front of you, grabbing you roughly by the shoulders and shoving you against the wall behind you. You fight his grip, struggling, trying to kick him, but he’s got both of your wrists in one hand and lifting them above your head, pressing his torso against yours.

"You are mine. I will kill anyone who says or thinks otherwise… including you." He growls in your ear and runs his nose over your temple. You take quick, ragged breaths as you give in to his illusion and his will, sensing his scent, the warmth, as if he were actually with you.

"I am not one of your rings. You can't put me on your finger and expect me not to slip off when you lose interest in me, to faithfully wait for your attention until you feel like playing with me again." You hiss angrily in his face and lift your legs, trying to kick him. He gasps, struggling to keep his grip on your wrists. After a moment, he grabs you roughly by the waist and pushes you onto the bed.

"Stop making this difficult. We both know how it will end. Go home. Before I will drag you to it." He warns you, glaring at you intensely as he steps closer to you. You raise your leg to kick him in the chest, but he catches your ankle, grounding you.

"I have no home. You made sure of that." You growl at him, trying to yank your leg out of his grip, but he won't let you. He takes a step towards you and braces your leg over his shoulder. He presses his lips to your ankle, sending a shiver right up your spine.

"I am your husband..."

"I don't remember you swearing any oaths to me." You respond angrily, yanking your leg out of his grip as he presses kisses along your ankle and lower. You can't let him have enough space to play his tricks and seduce you to get you on his side again.

"It is enough that you have given me one. You cannot break it."

"In the eyes of the Valar we do not exist anyway. We have no souls. So why should I keep the promises made by that part of me that died long ago, buried by your own hand, Mairon?" The use of his true name somehow unsettles him, causing his mask of composure to crumble for a moment. You see in his eyes as old memories of the two of you flash through his mind—when you both bathed in the light of the Valar, when he was just your Mairon. "Forgive me... Sauron."

He recoils from you as if scalded when he hears the hateful tone in your voice as you speak his other name—the one given to him by Morgoth. You see him tremble when it feels from your lips like a foul curse. You give him one of your coldest, most cruel looks, and you almost crumble in your resolve to keep him away from you when you see him shake his head gently, allowing himself a moment of weakness with you.

"You knew perfectly well what I had become… after Morgoth."

"I did. What I didn't realize was that you would want to remain his shadow forever." You respond with bitterness and stare at him with resentment equal to the one he accused you of abandoning him… but how could you stay with him when he hurt you more than anyone else had before?

"I am not his shadow. I am my own master. This... this is who I am."

"Then this is not the man I promised myself to." Your words hurt him. He may not show it in a big way, but you can see it in the way his jaw clenches a little harder after your statement.

"But this is a man you've bonded yourself to. Til the end of the time and much longer after that." He reminds you, never taking his piercing, cold gaze off you.

"Or until one of us is forever gone." There’s another long silence after your statement, this time more tense. You swallow hard, watching in the piercing silence, broken only by your loud heartbeat, as he takes in the meaning of your words. And you can clearly say that he doesn’t like them at all.

"You can't kill me. You won't. You can't. You care too much."

"I know. I meant something else."

At those words, something inside him snaps. He stops controlling you completely. Before you can blink, he's straddling you. You struggle against his grip, fighting him with everything you have, but he pins you down to the bed with all his strength, not letting you move away from him for even an inch.

"If you do… I will pull you from the land of the dead, find your soul, and make you suffer more than Morgoth ever did to us. You will not leave me… not you… if you do not return to me…"

"What will you do? Burn whole Middle-Earth? Destroy me? You've already done that or are about to do it." You growl, digging your nails into his wrists as he tries to lock your hands back in his iron grip. You whine, in pain and shock, as he bites into your shoulder, effectively distracting you so he can overpower you. "Unlike you, I have nothing to lose, my king."

Your mockery only fuels his anger. You gasp as he pushes his knee between your legs, creating a space for himself. Before you can even react, he leans down and captures your lips in a punishing, bruising kiss, as if it were some form of punishment for you - a punishment created by him specifically for his pleasure.

"I will find you… I will find you, and bind you to myself with golden shackles if necessary." He mumbles against your lips, cupping your cheek in his hand.

He presses his thigh against your core, teasing your shamefully dripping pussy for him, asserting his dominance over you. As if to reassure himself that he still has some kind of control over you.

"I'll rip my heart out before you lay even the tip of your littlest finger on me again." You promise him, but it seems unlikely considering the way you grind against his thigh, desperate to get away from him yet unable to do anything but endure his treatment.

"Then I will lay at your feet the heads of everyone who has caused you to leave me. Their lives, the lives of everyone in Middle-Earth, and their blood will be stained your hands."

You can’t help but moan as his fingers find their way to your cunt and pinch it. You bite your lip until it bleeds as he pushes two of his fingers inside you, stretching the tight walls of your pussy for him once more.

"They already do. Since the day I brought you back... since the day I followed you and supported you. Since the day I naively fell into your arms believing that I meant as much to you as you did to me. Since then I have had your sins on my shoulders." You mumble, digging your fingers into his arms as he is tirelessly working on your pleasure.

"If what I feel for you is not love, then I don't know what it feels like."

And then you almost give in to him, almost surrender, wanting to believe his sweet words, wanting to believe that he is actually capable of loving you sincerely, that all those centuries spent by his side were not a waste of time at all.

Almost. Because you realize he is much wiser in the art of deceiving everyone around him than you will ever be.

You sigh as he removes his fingers and instead teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. And even though you know better than to give in to him like that, you can't stop or push him away—too eager for his touch after so long apart to do the right thing.

Instead, you let yourself be submerged in his perfectly tailored illusion of him thrusting into you, glad that he's not actually with you in the flesh, because then you'd fail completely to him once again. In your mind, you find a twisted excuse for your actions and grab his hair hard, sinking your fingers into the perfectly coiffed bow and tugging on it as he pounds into you at an unforgiving pace.

"You will regret this. When I put a crown on you made of your blood and the blood of our enemies, you will regret having abandoned me. I will make you my ornament, my prize, a pretty thing on my arm. Then you will understand how I treat my toys." You whine as each sentence he says ends with him thrusting harder and harder into you.

You close your eyes and bite your lip, trying to keep from making too many sounds, but it doesn’t meet with his approval. He wraps a warning hand around your neck, pressing down just a little as he forces you to look him in the eyes.

You feel the heat spreading across your chest, the ragged breaths that leave your lungs a reward that makes him redouble his efforts, abusing your poor, overstimulated body, forcing sweet whimpers and moans out of you over and over for his pleasure.

"The thing is... you've always treated me this way. Maybe we're both blind—me for seeing it too late and you for thinking you did me a favour by letting me love you endlessly when I got nothing in return."

"I have always adored you." He quickly denies it, telling you another well-practiced lie.

"Did you?" You ask, grabbing his chin firmly. He freezes for a moment, staring at you without saying a word, too surprised that you're still trying to defy him. "Look me in the eyes and tell me it was always me. Look me in the eyes and tell me you would give it all up for me. Look me in the eyes and tell me it was all in my head—that I got your intentions wrong somehow, that instead of celebrating my love, you didn't take it for granted and started craving power more than my love. Look me in the eyes and tell me you would choose me over a hundred rings. I dare you. Show me your alleged love."

You hold your breath, waiting impatiently for his response. For the first time, you realise that you're seeing him without any words. He's staring at you, shocked and frozen, trying to get something out of his mouth.

You laugh bitterly, still with him deep inside you, as he proves to you exactly what you suspected, exactly what you didn't want to see all these years. He didn't truly love you. He never did.

"Get out of my mind. Have enough decency and mercy for my tormented heart and leave me alone." You beg him shakily, allowing yourself to show so much weakness. You close your eyes tightly, stopping any tears from spilling out as the painful truth hits you.

"I can't." He spits it out reluctantly, admitting, probably for the first time in a long time, honestly to you.

Sauron wraps his arms around you tightly, pressing you painfully against him. He digs his fingers into your arms, as if to make sure you don't break free from his grip. He presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, taking a shuddering breath.

"Come back. Just come back."

You're not used to seeing him like this. To seeing him... lost, begging for something, being not the one in control. You close your eyes, letting your tears mingle with his—the ones that are dripping onto your cheek from his.

"To watch you tolerate my love again?" You spit at him angrily, and he shakes his head slightly. He removes his forehead from yours and cups your cheek gently in his hand, caressing it as he forces you to look at him again.

"To watch me make everyone in all Middle-Earth fall at your feet and worship you."

"I only want your adoration… it's a pity you're not able to give it to me honestly."

"Y/N... please." He tries one last time, pressing his lips to yours, stealing the words you wanted to use against him. You gasp into his desperate kiss as he begins to move his hips again, tearing you, your soul, and your body in half.

"It was not me who left us in ruins… you have no right… you have no right to ask or beg me for anything." You whine, letting your tears fall down your cheeks.

His plush lips kiss off each tear as he continues to desperately hold you, thrusting into you as if he can redeem himself through his sweet words and the pleasure he brings you.

"Y/N." He whispers desperately, pleadingly, as he brings the two of you closer and closer to climax, despite how reluctant you are to accept him inside you.

He craves your touch, your tenderness, and your warmth. He has to have you back; he can't imagine a world without you; he can't imagine you by anyone else's side but him. And if he has to burn all of Middle-Earth and take you against your will, then he will.

He will do anything to make you see again that you belong together, that he worships you—maybe not to the extent you expect, but as madly and devotedly as his black rotten heart can handle.

"Get out of my mind, you deceiver."

"You… of all people… don't call me that… at least not you." He mumbles against your temple, pressing his lips there.

Every little whisper, every tender touch is just another dose of poison—poison you thought you were already healed from. But in that little moment between you, he reminded you so clearly of the power he has over you and how strong he is. Because even knowing what he is like, you couldn't fight the pull between you. That's why you had to stay away from him. For your own good.

The moment you both fall apart, reaching your peaks, you focus your power and throw him out of your mind, slamming the door shut with a bang. You breathe deeply, tiredly, as the connection between you weakens, even as you feel him hammering with all his might against the gates to your mind you’ve closed. You allow yourself a moment of shuddering sobs, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself and holding on, rocking back and forth on the bed to somehow calm your shattered emotions.

You’d forgotten how strong his illusions could be and how gracefully he could mess with the minds of others, passing off his thoughts to them as their own. You begin to wonder how much of you was really there and how much of the emotion you felt was really coming from him.

You decide you don't want to know.

You quickly gather yourself to set off on your journey, convinced that he has caught your scent and is already in pursuit of you. And you are not wrong. A few hours later, you watch in the distance as the village you stopped at burns under fire and the feet of orcs. At least he has not lied to you about this one thing.

He will burn the world to get to you.

You shiver, coming back to the present as a cold blade is pressed to your neck. You glance at the weapon and frown, recognizing Adar's black blade.

"I thought you wanted to meet like civilized beings?"

"As if you or I could be one." He whispers in your ear. You manoeuvre his hand and push him away from you, throwing him against the wall behind him and pulling out your blade. You aim it at him, watching him carefully.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to specify which side you are on." You laugh mockingly at the demand coming from him. He had definitely become too arrogant over the centuries he had managed to live through. Perhaps you should remind the fallen elf of his place…

"The answer has not changed since we last saw each other. I am on the only side that is right for me in this little war between you, Galadriel, and him. On my own."

"He wants you. And he won't rest until he gets you. You know that." You frown at his words, not at all appreciating the conversation about your former lover. The lover who continued to pursue you tirelessly despite how many times you had escaped the clutches of his orc army.

"And so?"

"We both know you will succumb to him the moment you come within his reach again. And Galadriel and I cannot have that. If you join him… the world will burn in the fires of his creation."

"It is already burning in the fires of its furious search for me." You growl, blocking the attack he launches at you just as you try to move away from him. You land a few blows, which he successfully blocks, but not as effortlessly as he would like.

"This flame we are able to control. The question is for how long?"

"You know very well that I will not join him of my own free will."

"Just enough to also know that he won't give you a choice once he catches you. Together you are too dangerous. So one of you must die."

"And you want it to be me?" You ask with a mocking smile on your face, ignoring the cold shiver that ran through you.

He was right. Partly. It seemed logical to destroy one of you since you were connected to Sauron. By getting rid of one, you take away some of the power from the other. And since you didn't seem like a particularly great threat, they wanted to remove you from the picture.

"I'd prefer it to be Sauron, but since you leave me no choice… I don't care whose dead bodies I step over to bring about his eternal end."

"Oh you showed this very well by sacrificing your so-called children." You mock him, pleased when you manage to hurt him in a vulnerable spot.

He attacks you harder this time, actually forcing you to block his sword. You push him away from you, moving to the next street, one that leads out more to the outskirts of the village, where you could see the nearby forest.

"I don't want you to die. But I will kill you if I have to." He growls, thrusting forward, trying his best to cut your skin with his blade.

Adar posed no threat to you. Yet you knew you would not be able to avoid their efforts to kill you for long. Eventually you would have to choose a side. But you feared your battered heart had not yet healed enough to make the best decisions for yourself.

"Then you will make him win. He'll have nothing to lose after my death. Literally nothing. And you know perfectly well what a desperate man will do, don't you, Adar?"

"Make him fall… or fall before him."

"What should I do? Return to his side and be your spy? Do you think he won't notice that I won't sense the trick? Or that I won't change my mind? He knows my mind. He will see over this little lie."

"But he doesn't know your heart." You can't stop the slight twitch of your facial muscles—a sign of weakness that he quickly spits out and greets with a dark, mocking smile of victory.

"I don't have one anymore." You answer without emotion, knowing that it is partly true. Part of your heart had been cut out, and what was left of it was no longer fit to function like it once did. Sauron made sure of it.

"That's why I trust you in terms of making him disappear once and for all." An unpleasant shiver runs through you, and a strange feeling of unease settles heavy in your chest at his words. The thought of killing him, of being part of the cause of his death, isn't... as liberating as it should be. Which scares you a little bit.

But before you can say anything, agree or reject his proposal by mocking him, you hear the howl of a warg coming from the nearby forest. And that could only mean one thing…

"You fucking traitor." You growl at Adar and charge at him. He deliberately delayed you, allowing the orc scouts to catch up with you.

Instead of thinking about escaping, you think about how to hurt him the most. That's why you want to show him what happened to his children. You're both in the middle of the fight when the first orc units reach you. They throw themselves at you as well as at their father, with the difference that none of them dares to raise a weapon at you. They have a clear mission. To catch you and take you to their master. The rest of the world was of lesser importance to Sauron.

Unfortunately, Adar manages to escape the battlefield. If you weren't busy killing orcs, you'd mock what a coward he is, since he can't face what he once loved and cared for. On the other hand, unfortunately, you understand him. You realise this when, in this sudden commotion, amidst blood both black and red, the fire from the torched village, the screams of men, and the army of orcs, you see him.

Sauron. Halbrand. Annatar. Mairon. He had many names. And many faces. You wonder if you ever got to know his real one.

But you won't let me win that easily. That's why when your eyes meet his, you run in the opposite direction. He's not calling you. He's not stupid enough to think that you'll come to him of your own free will. That's why you run, not even turning to see if he's following you. Because you know perfectly well that if you focus your senses enough, you'll feel his breath on the back of your neck.

Running into the ruins of the forest, you know you have no escape route. They burnt everything and buried every possible hiding place, leaving only fire and darkness behind. Strangely, you didn't pay any attention to it. You wonder if your ignorance stems from the far worse things you've already seen while at Sauron's side or if you've simply stopped paying attention to things that don't directly concern you.

Your heart beats madly as you hear his footsteps behind you, and you feel him trying to simultaneously cage you in his arms and break through the barrier you've put up in your mind.

In your flight from him, you fail to notice how he manipulates your surroundings, masking his protruding crotch with his illusion. You stumble, giving him just enough time to catch up to you.

You fight him, trying to break through his armour with your dagger, but he doesn’t let you squirm under him for long. He knocks the weapon out of your hands, catching your wrists in a tight grip and lifting them above your head. He lets you fight his clinging grip for a moment longer, staring at you intently, drinking in all the changes in you since he last saw you. And you can’t stop your heart from beating a little faster at the sight of him.

"Are you done?" He asks you mockingly, piercing you through with his icy gaze.

"I don't know yet." You pant, still exhausted from running away from him and fighting him. You try to kick him with your legs and push him off of you, but he holds his ground above you, his body pinning you to the dead ground beneath you.

"I can go on like this for eternity." He warns you, bored, as if he hadn’t spent all those nights over the past century searching for you, cursing your name as you slipped through his fingertips each time he was close to catching you.

"Me too." You growl at him angrily, renewing your attempts to defeat him with even more furious passion.

You managed to surprise him enough to somehow crawl out from under his grip. You push him away and stand up to keep running, but he grabs your ankle and pulls you back to him. And before you can react, his mouth is on yours, devouring you in the most ravenous, unholy way possible—taking your breath away, any thought that was going to cross your mind.

You can't help but moan into his mouth. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, ravaging you even more with each movement of his tongue against yours. He cups your cheeks in his hands, making sure you don't pull away from his kiss. He presses his body against yours with a groan, as he is finally able to properly sink into the feeling of your lips, warmth, and scent.

He can't count how many sleepless nights he spent thinking about you. It was pathetic, how frustrated he felt, how he had to meet his needs on his own, while sinful images of you—precious memories he held onto—tempted him and distracted him from his main mission.

But he finally had you. And he'd be damned if he'd ever let you walk away from his watchful gaze again.

"Lord Sauron we have taken over…" The orc who was supposed to give him the message couldn't even finish his sentence as Sauron sent one of his blades towards him.

You could hear his dead body fall to the ground a little further away from you as Sauron hungrily, open-mouthed, moved along the column of your neck with his lips, placing wet kisses, leaving hickies and bite marks all the way down to your clothed chest—marking you as his property once again.

"You killed him."

"I have many of them. And only one of you." He doesn't even have the decency to care about your accusation and stop kissing every tiny inch of your skin he can reach. You sigh, trying to pull away from him, but with each tender kiss he places against your skin, it becomes more and more difficult.

"It's exactly the same with your rings, and yet this rule doesn't apply when it comes to them."

"Don't start." He mumbles and pinches your side in warning. You give him a hurt, angry look, and he just chuckles darkly, thug-like. It's one of the rare times you see him so... relaxed and carefree, without any worries or plans nagging at him, when all he wants to do is lose himself in you.

"I should have killed you ages ago. Or myself. Or both of us." You mumble as his fingers begin to work on the laces of your blouse. He presses a kiss to your cheek, completely ignoring your small threats as he cups your breast in his hand and begins to fondle it. You hiss as he plays with your nipples, and you involuntarily tangle your hands in his hair, pulling him closer to you.

"And I should punish you for leaving me, but yet here I am, worshiping my queen." "We need each other. You know that. So stop fighting it." He whispers into the crook of your neck, continuing to pepper it with kisses. With your other hand, you reach for the dagger at your side and, taking advantage of its looseness, press the metal against the back of his neck.

"You may have needed me… but I never needed you."

"Lier." He growls, not moving an inch, waiting to see if you dare to pierce his skin and draw his black blood, or if you will finally give in to your wild desire, fuelled by a century of your running away from him.

"Deceiver." You respond just as furious, and you roughly push his head away from you so you can look him in the eye. He licks his lips, watching the furious look in your eyes, a raging storm of both lust and rage.

"A damn good couple, don't you think?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. You bite your lip, staring at him, your grip on the dagger tightening as you lightly trace the line of hair at the nape of his neck with the tip of the blade, still hesitating.

"It's them or you. From the rain to the gutter."

"But only at my side will you become queen." He entices you and puts his hand around your neck, forcing you to lift your chin and meet his intense gaze.

"Queen of nothing." You comment, emphasizing the last word with a glance at the empty, scorched earth around you.

"My queen." He corrects you. He gently removes his hand from your body and reaches for the back of his head—where you still have an iron grip on his hair. You freeze when you feel him slide his little breast onto your free finger.

"This time we will be equal. Or I will bring doom upon us both."

And though your warning sends an unpleasant shiver of alarm through him, he ignores it completely. He leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising, passionate kiss, and can't help but smile as he hears and feels you drop the dagger to the ground.

"I think I can work with that." He mumbles against your mouth, throwing himself at you like a starving man looking for a warm meal.

You idly trace patterns on his back with your fingers, carefully considering your next move. For now, you'll let him think he's placated you and that he's on your good side again.

And in time, when he once again takes your devotion for granted—and you're convinced he will—you'll seize the opportunity against him. You'll be the queen of nothing. And you'll do it without a king by your side. If he can't celebrate your love, then you don't have to accept his rule.

This time you will be the one to tolerate his affection for you.

[d-z20]

What We Have Left

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: After surviving the Witches' Road, you and Agatha find solace in caring for each other as you navigate the aftermath—her haunted by nightmares and you recovering from near-fatal injuries. (canon-divergence)

Warnings: physical hurt (R), emotional hurt (A), comfort

Words: 1.4k

A/N: Another request fic :) It took me so long to figure out how Agatha and Reader could survive without taking away from Agatha's character arc so it's as close to canon as possible.

AO3 | Master List

After the chaos of what happened with Rio and Billy, you don’t know exactly how you survived. The last thing you remember is the weight of magic swirling violently around you, the air crackling with danger. Agatha had been ready to sacrifice herself, a final act of redemption that would have consumed her completely. But something had shifted in the moments before her fate was sealed—your desperate magic, unpredictable and wild, surged in response to her intent. In a flash, it felt as though time bent, reality warping around you both. A surge of energy, as if the universe itself had decided you were both not yet finished, had pulled you from the brink of destruction.

But it had also sent you flying backward. 

You’d crashed into a jagged outcrop of stone, your already fragile body sustaining more injuries. A deep wound had opened along your side, nearly severing you in half, and your chest felt like it was caving in with each strained breath. It wasn’t just exhaustion; it was the real fear that you wouldn’t make it. You were too close to death, the darkened edge of your vision creeping in, when Agatha’s hand in yours had pulled you back from that final brink. You weren’t sure how, but it felt like she was holding you together in those final moments before you slipped into unconsciousness.

—

Your injuries keep you from being able to get upstairs, so you spend your days and nights on the couch trying to recover. Agatha promises to stay close, swearing she’ll sleep in the armchair beside you. But every night, you wake to find her pacing instead, her movements restless and agitated, her silhouette framed by the faint light above the stove.

The house is quiet tonight, save for the rhythmic sound of Agatha pacing in the next room. The soft creak of the floorboards betrays her unease, a subtle sound that feels much louder in the stillness. You know the routine by now—she doesn't scream out or cry, but she can’t seem to stay still. She’s trying to outrun something, her breath coming quicker, hitching in the air as though there's a monster that won’t let her rest. The nightmares are worse tonight. You can feel her anxiety through the walls—a tension in the house that makes it hard to breathe.

You lie back on the couch, a thin blanket draped over your legs, shifting carefully to avoid pulling at the bandages wrapped around your ribs. The dull ache is persistent, a reminder of what the Road has taken. What it has demanded.

“You’re awake.”

Her voice startles you, and you turn your head to see her standing in the doorway. She looks dishevelled, her hair wild and her lips chewed raw. Agatha Harkness, once a picture of control and sharp wit, seems smaller these days. Her sharp, calculating eyes are clouded now.

“So are you,” you reply softly, watching as she crosses the room and lowers herself into the chair beside you.

She looks at the floor, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “I didn’t mean to wake you. The dreams... They’re worse tonight.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing hers gently. “You didn’t wake me. Couldn’t sleep from the pain anyway.”

Her eyes flick to your bandages, her gaze lingering on the blood seeping through them. Her face tightens in frustration, but there’s something darker beneath the surface—a flicker of panic in her eyes. Her hands tremble as they hover near your side, as though she wants to help but is afraid to make things worse. She’s breathing faster now, her chest rising and falling with each uneven inhale. “You’re still in pain.”

“It’s manageable,” you lie, though you know she can see right through you. She always does.

Agatha stands abruptly, her movements sharp. “Let me change the dressing. It’ll help.” She doesn’t wait for you to agree, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with the first aid kit.

She kneels by your side, her hands surprisingly gentle as she helps you sit up, unwrapping the bandages with practiced precision. Her fingers linger on the jagged cut running along your side.

“This one’s healing slower than the others,” she mutters, more to herself than to you.

You wince as she cleans the wound, but you keep your focus on her face. Her brow is furrowed, her lips pressed into a tight line. She is concentrating, but you can see the tremor in her hands.

“Agatha.”

She doesn’t look up. “Almost done.”

“Agatha.” Your voice softens. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Her hands still. For a moment, the only sound is your breathing, uneven and shallow. Then she shakes her head. “It was, though. I led us there. I put you in danger.”

“And we both survived,” you counter. “That’s what matters.”

She finishes rewrapping the bandage in silence, her hands lingering on your side before pulling away. She sits back on her heels, staring at the floor.

You reach for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She hesitates, her eyes flickering toward the window as if searching for an escape. But then her gaze softens, and she looks back at you. “I see them, you know,” she says quietly. “In my dreams. The ones we lost. Lilia, Alice, Mrs. Ha—Sharon... I see them; I hear their voices.”

Her voice cracks, and she quickly looks away, but not before you catch the glint of tears in her eyes.

You lean forward, wincing as pain flares in your ribs. “They don’t blame you, Agatha. None of them do.”

“How would you know?” she whispers, her tone tinged with bitterness. “You can’t know.”

“Because I know you,” you say firmly. “And I know you did everything you could.”

Her expression crumbles, and for a moment, she looks so much younger, so much more fragile than you’ve ever seen her. The indomitable Agatha Harkness, finally undone by the weight of her own guilt.

You cup her face with your hand, your thumb brushing away a tear that slips free. “Agatha,” you murmur, your voice soft. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”

“And what about you?” Her eyes open, sharp and searching. “You’re the one who nearly died, and you’re still acting like you have to take care of me.”

“I want to take care of you,” you say simply.

“I’m not sure I deserve it,” she murmurs, her voice cracking. Her hands shake slightly as she tugs at the hem of her sweater, the fabric clutched too tightly in her fists as if trying to steady herself. She won’t look at you, but you can see the tremor in her jaw. It’s a subtle thing, but you know that she’s fighting against something much bigger than just guilt. There’s a panic beneath it, a fear that maybe she can never escape what happened, that the person she is now—the one who’s failed so many—is someone who doesn’t deserve forgiveness, or love, or even peace.

“Too bad,” you say with a weak smile.

Agatha’s hand comes to rest over yours, holding it against her cheek. “You’re a stubborn witch,” she says, a hint of her usual wit breaking through.

“Takes one to know one,” you reply, your smile growing.

For a long moment, the two of you stay like that, the silence between you no longer heavy but filled with something softer.

“I didn’t actually know what I wanted from the Road,” you say suddenly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

Agatha’s eyes open, and she looks at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “What do you mean?”

“I thought I wanted knowledge,” you admit. “Or power. Or maybe to finally understand myself.” You hesitate, searching for the right words. “My magic’s always been... all over the place. Never strong enough in one area to fit anywhere. Protection spells don’t hold long, potions are hit or miss, divination’s a disaster... I thought the Road could give me something to make me belong.”

“And did it? Since Billy’s maybe made it real and all that,” she asks softly.

You nod your head. “Yes. It gave me you.”

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, you think you’ve said too much. But then she leans forward, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it makes your heart ache.

It isn’t a kiss born of desperation or passion. It’s something quieter, something fragile. A shared promise that, no matter how broken the two of you might be, you’ll face it together.

When she pulls back, her hand lingers on your cheek. “I don’t deserve you,” she murmurs.

“You do,” you say firmly.

For a long moment, she’s silent, her lips pressed together as she absorbs your words. You can almost see her mind racing behind her eyes, calculating the weight of your reassurance. Her expression shifts just slightly, and for the first time since the Road, you see a flicker of something like peace in her gaze—a brief, fragile relief that she doesn’t have to bear the whole world’s weight on her shoulders alone. It’s like she’s finally starting to believe it. Then she exhales a shaky breath and stands, pulling the blanket up to cover you more securely.

“Get some rest,” she says softly. “I’ll be here.”

“And you?” you ask, catching her hand before she can pull away. “Will you sleep?”

Her lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile. “Maybe.”

“Liar,” you tease gently.

She sighs, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ll try. For you.”

She stays by your side that night, her hand clasped in yours as you drift into a fitful but comforting sleep. Whatever the Road has taken from you, it has left this: a bond forged in fire, unshakeable and enduring.

[infectiousseptic]

[sadmages]

Finally found a bit for my Durge

[romanceclub-confessionss]

Confession:

"the black male lis in ongoing stories (lucien, vincent, greg, cassiel, grant) are so pretty, fun and charming i'm really enjoying all their routes 🫶 i hope we can get more black female lis too"

[honestlyitsjustsam]

favourite moments of bg3 -> (12/?)

[magpie-trove]

Actually I don’t think you are actually fr an adult author if you can’t write something without a s*x scene in it

[fallencalliope]

Bruised and broken from your words,

On the day you decided to walk out of my life,

Claiming that what we had was never enough,

I was never what you were looking for,

My conscious kept telling me,

That I was wasting all hope,

In believing that this was worth fighting for,

When in the end all I did was cause more issues,

Thoughts of spending a day without you,

Made me bleed inside,

I was being too selfish to keep it going on for this long,

I should've never done that to you,

What I put you through... just broke my heart...

©️randik86

[charalol]

LOVE IS SO MANY THINGS. I AM SICK OF PLATONIC LOVE BEING ERASED WHEN IT IS ONE OF THE MOST STRONGEST AND IMPORTANT LOVES EVER. IM SORRY. IM SAYING IT. When you get broken up with?! Your friends are there. When someone hurts you and you need to vent or even just share STUPID GOSSIP?!?! Your friends are there !!!! People like me who don't have biological family to rely on. Hell my closest friends are basically siblings to me. I literally call them siblings. Platonic love is so strong and important and it means so much. Yes romantic love is awesome. Yes familial love is awesome but the love that has the most impact on you? Platonic. Sorry. You'll fall in love platonically more than any other love.

Also. Hey. The only rules are the ones YOU set. I'm sick and tired of people saying you cant do "romantic" things with platonic relationships. Yeah sorry. I'm taking my friends on "dates". Yes we can hold hands. You want to kiss your friend on the cheek?! Go for it dude. The world is literally your oyster and as long as you both consent. WHATEVER !!!!!!!!

[ratanslily]

astrea's broken heart🌹

[anethiawoods]

playing slay the princess as intended (watching your friend stream it and then roleplaying as improvised ocs for each of ur runs)

[onceuponaneverafter]

Let's Talk About Jacks's Apples

...and especially their COLORS. I wanted to figure out what they could mean, so I made a spreadsheet!

part two

First, DISCLAIMERS:

MAJOR spoilers for OUABH and TBONA + the Caraval series!

This post was written BEFORE ACFTL and does not contain information or spoilers from it.

This post is based on my interpretations and observations, all of them may not be perfectly accurate. The conclusions I make are my theories, not necessarily canon information.

When I reference page numbers, they're from my OUABH UK paperback and TBONA UK hardcover - it's possible they're a bit off for you if you have different editions of the books.

This is a long post, so grab a snack and get comfortable!

I hope you enjoy reading! 🍎

Table Of Contents

Introduction

Why Apples?

A Detailed Look Into The Apples (= explaining everything I say I'll explain later)

The Colors

Where Do The Apples Come From

Conclusions/TL;DR

This is a long post, so here you can see what's coming and skip over to what interests you most :)

Introduction

Throughout the OUABH series, there are 14 scenes in total where Jacks is holding an apple in his hand (sometimes eating them, sometimes not) while Evangeline is there to witness it. All of those apples are unnaturally colored. To look for connections between them, I made a spreadsheet:

For sake of clarity, I will be discussing 13 total apples instead of 14 - I believe the "undescribed" apple (its color is not explicitly stated in the scene) is the same as White Apple #5, but it appears in two separate scenes, so both are included here. I will get into this later.

The spreadsheet contains various details about the apples, such as what Jacks does while holding them, when he picks them up (or if he's already holding them when they're described), what happens to them (dropped somewhere etc.), how he feels during the scene, etc. I will discuss these later in this post.

Then I realized he also has some apples in Legendary and Finale, so I made another list of the ones he has while Tella is present:

Here's a summary of all the apples:

That would make 20 apples in total, half of them being white.

Now let's go over some relevant context! Then I will get to analyzing what these colors mean and what kind of connections I found between the apples, I promise.

Why Apples?

Before we do a deep dive into the details, let's go over the basics on why Jacks keeps eating the apples. The most popular theory (if it can even be called a theory, it's basically canon) is based on what LaLa tells Evangeline in OUABH:

"When we [Fates] feel, it's intense and consuming. It devours us and drives us. And the strongest of our feelings is always the urge to be that which we were made to be." –OUABH page 270

She proceeds to explain that when she sews wedding dresses, it helps her with that urge, and to say that for Jacks it's similar – he has the desire to find his true love, and supposedly that's the one person his kiss doesn't kill. So, according to LaLa's logic, the apples help him with that. It makes a lot of sense, and everything he physically does with the apples makes more sense in light of it.

When Jacks is first introduced to the Caraval series, he is described eating an apple. While I believe the theory above is true, it was also interesting to notice that he seems to already be holding the apple when he meets Tella practically by chance. In fact, there are only four times he ever picks up an apple during a scene, and they are all during the OUABH series. I will get more into it later.

In OUABH, Jacks is described to have countless apples and apple cores in his rooms and offices, so we don't know how many he eats and why when Evangeline isn't around him. However, I found that he almost never touches Evangeline while holding an apple. (With sort of the exception of the silver apple, where he touches his dagger to her lips, and the blue apple, which he was holding before stopping Evangeline from taking the luck stone back from Chaos.)

Now, this could just be for practical reasons, but he touches Evangeline in about 21 of the 25 (I focused on the apples so this may not be the exact count) scenes where he doesn't have an apple and only in 6 of the 14 scenes where he has an apple, and in 2 of them the touch is barely there or brief and initiated by Evangeline.

An interesting comparison is how he does touch Tella while holding an apple (like Blue Apple #1 and White Caraval Apple #2), so it definitely isn't purely about logistics. Maybe it's related to him thinking she's his true love, that's the greatest difference I can think of. It is also noteworthy that he doesn't eat any apples while in the Hollow, which Evangeline also notices (TBONA 284).

With the theory above in mind, the way Jacks touches his apples is pretty straightforward:

He tosses them when he's in a good mood or needs to distract himself

Him biting them is practically his version of self-control

He drops them when things aren't so fun anymore or there's a clear mood shift (I will discuss this a bit more later).

He stabs two apples in total: the Silver Apple and White OUABH Apple #4. the first time he tells Evangeline how Apollo would be eternally heartbroken if she called off the engagement, the second time he tells Evangeline that the Archer ends up killing the Fox. And what unites these? Great heartbreak.

A Detailed Look Into The Apples

Or in other words, let's get into everything I said I would discuss later. After this, we'll look more into the apple colors.

The Undescribed Apple

I believe that White Apple #5, the apple Jacks holds in his hand before he and Evangeline leave to LaLa's engagement party, is the same as the apple that he picks up in the next scene, in the carriage as they travel - its color is not described, but the narration leads to the assumption that this apple is already familiar to the reader:

"Jacks leaned back in his seat and picked up his apple" –TBONA page 184

13 is also a more meaningful number than 14 (and the total count of all apples would be 20 instead of 21), so even though the total number might be purely coincidental, it also could be a fun intentional detail.

Caraval vs. OUABH

There are some very interesting parallels between apples in Legendary/Finale and apples in OUABH/TBONA.

First, we have the blue apple (in Legendary) that Jacks ends up dropping into a fireplace (see chart below). The only other apple that he specifically drops into fire is the very last white apple in TBONA. Before he drops the blue apple, Tella says that nothing could make her fall in love with him. Before he drops the white apple, Evangeline suggests that maybe Jacks could find another true love.

Second, every apple is either last seen still in his hand or dropped on the floor/ground (or fire), except for two: the sparkling white one in Finale (in Tella's dream again) and the pink one in OUABH, which he tosses to Tella and Evangeline. He directly encourages Tella to taste the white apple, and he tells Evangeline that she might need a snack. In terms of color, the sparkling white apple is especially interesting – I will look into the sparkling later along with the colors.

"Jacks picked up his apple"

The main difference between the Caraval and OUABH apples - and the one thing that keeps messing up my theories - is that during the Caraval series, Jacks never picks up an apple during a scene, he is always already holding one when the scene begins (see chart above). However, during OUABH and TBONA, he picks up four apples in total. And they are all white.

White Apple #1: Meeting Evangeline for the first time

White Apple #3: Evangeline says she'd stab Jacks if she got the chance to

White Apple #5: Evangeline forbids Jacks from killing people at LaLa's party

White Apple #7: Jacks lets go of Evangeline and shuts off from her, he's about to tell her the truth about planning to go back in time

All of them are different in terms of why exactly he picks up the apple, but there is more or less a shift in tone/topic of their conversation during all of these scenes.

The Colors

White Apples

I think that white apples are the "default" color, and/or they represent focusing on what's important.

They make up half of the apples Jacks has, and all of the apples he spontaneously picks up are white. So, if something like his emotions or circumstances affect the apple colors (which I think is at least somewhat the case), it makes sense for white to be the basic color – and what would be a better "default" apple than the one who reminds him not to get distracted.

Even though the apple he tosses to Tella is sparkling white, I don't think the color represents her because he was holding a white apple before he met Tella. He couldn't have been thinking of her, but he most likely had plans that he was thinking over as he was hoping to take the throne from Elantine.

Black Apples

I originally thought the black color could mean bad intentions or regret, but I'm now quite sure it represents doing whatever it takes to get what he wants. The context surrounding the black apples highlights this:

Black Apple #1: Jacks offers his help in exchange for controlling Tella's emotions. He wants to find true love more than anything, and this is his last attempt to make Tella fall for him.

Black Apple #2: He's controlling Apollo in order to make him propose to Evangeline. He needs it, again, in order to reach his goal – only this time he's planning to go back in time. Still to find true love, though.

Black Apple #3: This one stands out a bit from the other two. Jacks brings Evangeline to Chaos' castle so she can be healed after Apollo shot her. Here the black apple might symbolize doing anything to keep Evangeline alive (he also needs her alive, so that checks out, but at this point I don't think it's just that), and possibly his reluctance to either ask Chaos for help or put Evangeline through being infected with vampire venom.

Blue Apples

Blue apples seem to represent happiness and success, because we tend to see them after something went just like Jacks wanted. This could also be connected to his eye color.

Blue Apple #1: It's the first apple we see after Tella didn't die of his kiss, and he's obviously more than happy about that.

Blue Apple #2. He got into Tella's dream, for the second time, and he had successfully tricked her into the "marriage thing" before.

Blue Apple #3. He is holding this one right after Evangeline agreed to open the Valory Arch, while the apple he held in the previous scene (only five pages earlier) was white.

The Golden Apple

The apples that there are just one of are the trickiest because there's less context to go by, but I think the golden apple represents Tella. It's the first one we see in his hand after the events of Finale, and Tella's hair color is close enough to it. She is also a princess now, which the color gold could also represent.

It's worth mentioning that it could also be tied to failure, heartbreak, or Jacks's own hair color (as it is often described as golden). He also lives in the North now, known as Lord Jacks, and he's "friends" (?) with Apollo, a prince, so it could be related to that as well.

The Silver Apple

I think the silver apple is like a "milder" version of the blue apple, in which case the apple representing happiness would definitely be intentionally the same color as his eyes: The Caraval Wiki describes his eye color as "silver-blue".

When Jacks has the silver apple, Evangeline has got married to Apollo just like he wanted, but everything isn't perfect yet. He's quite content, but it isn't quite as big satisfaction as when he has a blue apple. However, because Evangeline asked him to meet, the apple's color could also represent for example curiosity.

The Pink Apple

Because of Evangeline's hair color, the pink apple seems to intuitively represent her. Not only that, he's just spent the night holding her before he appears with the pink apple in hand, so it just makes a lot of sense to me. This is also the apple he tossed to her.

The Purple Apple

I've had the most trouble with the purple apple. It being the apple he holds after talking with Scarlett and the scene leading to Tella's discovery that his heart beats, and the only purple apple during any book and scene, I don't even know where to start.

While basic color symbolism is connected to the apple colors loosely at most, purple as a symbol for royalty, nobility, and power could make sense if he wanted to emphasize those qualities while talking to Scarlett. Purple is also associated with mystery, and with us and Tella not finding out immediately why he met with Scarlett, it could also be a storytelling element.

Bonus: Sparkling/shimmering Apples

There are some apples that deserve a special mention, and that's the ones that are described as sparkling or shimmering.

White Caraval Apple #3, "sparkling white": This is the apple that Jacks gives to Tella (in her dream), urging her to taste it.

Black Apple #3, "shimmering black": And this apple is in TBONA, when Jacks brings Evangeline to Chaos' castle to be healed.

The only similarity between them that I've found so far is that they both stand out from the other white and blue apples: the sparkling white apple is the only white apple that Jacks gives to someone else, and the shimmering black apple is the third one that stands out to me (see "Black Apples" above).

Where Do The Apples Come From

A very good and for now unanswered question is where Jacks gets the apples from. Does he pick them from a tree? What tree? What color are they, do they start off as natural apples or maybe white? What makes an apple something other than their default color? For these questions, I don't have solid theories yet, only speculation.

We're all obsessed with how intensely Fates feel when they do feel something (*cough* the end of TBONA *cough*), but I also think that it could have something to do with the apples, at least some of them. When Jacks feels something or spends a lot of time thinking of something, maybe it could somehow affect the apples' colors? Some of the apples seem to be connected to his emotions, such as the blue ones. No apples are seen changing colors and some apples seem to not have a direct connection to his emotions, though, so there is little evidence to support this.

Conclusions

To summarize everything I went over above,

There are 20 apples in total that Jacks is seen holding throughout every scene he is in, seven of them during the Caraval series and 13 during OUABH and TBONA.

What Jacks does with his apples (tossing, biting, picking up, dropping) is connected to his emotions.

The apples have different colors that I believe represent different things: white (10 of 20, focusing on what's important), black (3 of 20, doing whatever it takes), blue (3 of 20, happiness), gold (1 of 20, possibly Tella? multiple possibilities), silver (1 of 20, possibly happiness mixed with something else), pink (1 of 20, Evangeline?), and purple (1 of 20, power? nobility? mystery?).

The origin of the apples is for now unknown, as is the reason for each color (both the colors' meanings and how they take on the different colors).

With all that said, there is quite much room for interpretation, especially in terms of the apple colors. My theories aren't the only correct ones, and I do not wish to present them that way. As I stated in the beginning, I might have overlooked details or noted some down inaccurately. The purpose of this post was to share my findings and to have fun theorizing!

Let's hope that we get some actual answers for these in ACFTL and that the books treat us kindly &lt;3 Please do not give me any spoilers, not on the topic of apples or anything else, I'm actively trying to avoid them!

If you read this far, THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I poured my heart into this research and this analysis, and I'm so happy if at least one person besides myself enjoys looking at my little findings. <3 Here, have an apple as a reward: 🍎