weclassygirl

[weclassygirl]

The Herald & The Souls of Zaun 💀 (based on Hiremy-Hirschl’s Souls On The Banks of the Acheron)

[weclassygirl]

Here is the hard truth, which no one else has the heart to tell you.

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON 1.02 "The Rogue Prince"

[weclassygirl]

Oh there’s a plan for her (if I don’t change my mind first as I write it out) 👀 I’m taking it slow with her using her powers, can’t have her do all the work while Sauron plays a jewelry maker 😏

I’m so glad you liked it! 💕

wonders

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: creation of the Rings is quite demanding, Lord of Gifts is here to ensure their completion

warnings: dream manipulation (fake deaths), not much besides that

word count: 3k

author’s note: i hope everything loads because my wifi sucks as of recent days. i've been trying to upload for over an hour now. finally we get a glimpse of reader's power so... enjoy! (previous part -> bewitched)

You wished you could drop the illusion even for a split second when you heard that he left Eregion. Galadriel found out who he was and went on to create the Rings nonetheless. In three there’s balance, she said, you wanted to disturb that balance. 

You felt them when she brought them to Lindon, felt the very life within you blossom as they worked their magic. The Elves would not leave the shores of Middle-Earth, but Eregion still didn’t know that. 

As Celebrimbor and the other smiths worked on the completion of the forge, you could do nothing but aimlessly wander the grounds, trying to connect to him. He let you, hesitantly and you found out why. Chained, dirty and wounded he laid inside the tent, waiting for the Lord-father to bargain with him again. 

You tried to break the chains, used whatever power was bestowed upon you to free him. They twitched lightly but nothing moved, not a nail that held them together, never bending under your fingers. 

You kneel next to him and place your hands on your lap. “It was worth a try.” you admit and he smiles despite being in pain. You could feel it, faintly, not as strong as it could be once you bind yourself to him.

“You should go back, you’re wasting your power on me.”

You place your hand on his cheek even if it’s a quickly forgotten feeling. “I wish to stay.” you reassure him. “The hour is late in Eregion, no one will look for me.” your chambers have been moved multiple times over the years, at first near the center, then moving further away until you could choose on your own. The edge of Ost-in-Edhil was a place of your choosing, quiet, no one to disturb you and your craft. You could be yourself within the walls.

Sauron closes his eyes to your touch but opens them as Adar walks inside the tent. You never met the Lord-father directly, only through the whispers of the Orcs but remembered the day he betrayed Sauron. 

A tear falls down Sauron’s face as Adar retells the story of how he met him. You understand him in a way, the servant of Morgoth had that effect even before he took on a new form. 

You’ve met him when he was injured, his cheek adorned by a gash that bled black, his shoulder shattered and his thigh cut through the bone. It took you some time before you healed him completely, Morgoth’s wounds always came first. When the orcs brought you to his bedside he was wide awake, waiting and holding onto his cheek. He could heal himself but why would he bother and use his power when you were at hand? 

Adar informs him that his people were set free and demands an answer to his question. What did he know of Sauron?

You saw his mind at work, he probably found the situation amusing. He smirks as he shifts on the ground to get a better look at the Lord-father.

“Sauron has returned in a new form.” the chains around his neck rattle. “I am not yet certain what shape he has taken.”

“Then of what use are you to me?” Adar asks. You lean against the stone as much as your illusion allows you to.

“I have something you don’t. The trust of the Elves… and a witch.” that piques Adar’s interest. 

“I wonder… what kind of witch would put her trust in you?” he has a faint idea that it might be you but to Adar you could be good as dead. He knew what kind of person you were, how Sauron quickly took liking to you in Forodwaith. You were no good company but if persuaded, you could prove a valuable ally. 

“Release me and I’ll go to them and seek him out, so you can marshal your legions and destroy him.”  he offers and Adar seems to consider. 

Waldreg comes closer. “Do you vow allegiance to Adar, Lord-father of the Uruks?”

Halbrand looks up at him and speaks quietly.

“Yes.”

“Then kneel.” His sight is focused on you as he does so, the disdain evident on his face as he bows before Adar. For a second it reminds you of the day he was betrayed by him. “Now swear it.” 

His head hangs low as he begins. “I vow—”

“With your head at my feet.” Adar commands and you see how he relishes in it. Soon enough both of you will once Sauron sets out to claim his army.

He takes his time putting his head to the ground, Adar watches carefully as do his children. The King of the Southlands at his mercy, thinking that he can use him as his pawn. You’ve seen the trick in his eyes, the lie and grin as he took the vow. He looks straight at you as he speaks the words and you feel a sense of power flowing through you. He means more than the words slipping from his lips. 

“I vow to serve the Lord of Mordor. To the end of my days… and his.”

His chains are let loose and slowly he rides out of the camp. Adar knows better not to trust him entirely, you observe him and he turns his head to you, you freeze. Could he…? You step closer and lift your hand up in front of his face, if you were at your full power you could snap his neck with the single movement of your hand. You have to hold yourself back.

As Halbrand leaves the camp you already wait for him at the hill and in the distance both of you hear screams - Waldreg. He grins like a child.

“Satisfied?” you ask as he halts the horse by you. 

„Very.” he responds. „I take it you will grant me entry once I arrive?” 

You shake your head. „Galadriel informed Celebrimbor to not treat with you. He doesn’t know who you are and I doubt he will allow me to make the decision.” you confess. You look back to the camp, the orcs moving around in the distance. „Use your charm, mention the Rings and he will be wrapped around your finger. Make him believe they worked wonders.” 

He nods and you disappear from his view. Back in your room you hear a knock at your door, your eyes flutter open as you notice dawn at the horizon. You go up to the door and see Mirdania at the other side, ready to walk with you to the forge as she always had in the mornings. 

The following days you wait until he comes by the gate. The new forge has been completed, everything set in place as you watch from the upper level. The anvil descended from the ceiling like the last piece of the puzzle, Celebrimbor beamed next to you as he saw his dream come true before his very eyes. 

„Fëanor would be proud.” you say to him and mean it. Creation of this forge was no mere task as well as crafting the Rings. You’d be a fool to admit otherwise.

Mirdania joins you and mentions a messenger from the Southlands, your heart skips a beat and you follow to see who it is from the balcony. He looks up at you before you fully take in his presence, disheveled, wounded and as ever prideful. 

Celebrimbor gives you one order. “Stay away from him.” but have you ever listened?

You come up to him during the day, Halbrand gets away from his horse and smiles at your arrival. 

„I tried.” you announce low enough for him to hear. He looks up to Celebrimbor standing on the balcony with a tug at his lips. 

„Give him time.” he only says and you trust his words. As simple as they are you know them to be true, Celebrimbor is but a note waiting to be plucked to the melody of his choosing. A conductor in waiting before entering the stage.

However when you return to the forge, Celebrimbor looks at you displeased as you defied his single order.

“He is not to be negotiated with.” he reminds you.

You pick up your apron from the chair and smooth it out as you think of an answer. “Forgive me, but I simply needed to make sure—” you start and sigh. “he appears to be injured.”

He is aware of how close the two of you have gotten over these few short days that he spent in Eregion. He puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Galadriel made herself clear. I know how much you seem to care for him but he is a mortal. His life will pass you in the blink of an eye whether you like it or not.” he tells you and you wish you could break the hand he held on your shoulder. Never to create again. The time draws near and you cannot wait until you’ll finally let go of this tiring illusion.

It takes a whole day before Celebrimbor lets him in, his eyes sparkled at the mention of the Rings. Halbrand covered in rain and wounds made the Lord of Eregion pity him. He welcomed him back, fed him and reveled when hearing about the success of the Rings. You stood in the shadows of the forge, listening to their conversation, waiting when Halbrand began his act, his own illusion. 

As Celebrimbor calls out for him, the forge began to burn brighter, you cover your eyes from the light when you see him. Grey-white robes draping from him, long blond hair graced with a golden head piece. He sauntered down to face Celebrimbor, an emissary from the Valar himself.

You stayed hidden until you found it fit to reveal yourself, as ever the innocent, accidentally knocking over a hammer that was on the table. You shuffle to pick it up, unable to look them in the eye. “Forgive me, my Lord. I—”

Celebrimbor has a gentle look on his face. “No… please. Uhm…” he looks to Annatar, unable to explain. The Lord of Gifts comes closer and takes the hammer from the ground and places it in your hands. 

“I believe I should be the one asking for forgiveness.” he admits, never taking his eyes off of you. “You may have known me as Halbrand, but I had to make sure that the three of us were of the same ambition.”

“The three of us?” Celebrimbor asks confused. His expression mimicked on your face as well. 

Annatar nods. “Yes. The Valar has observed you and your smith.” he turns to you and brings up his hand to your face. So delicate as if handling porcelain. “Once swayed to darkness, now working amongst the greatest smiths in all Middle-Earth.” he explains and gestures to Celebrimbor. “And the very descendant of Fëanor, who may have bested his kin.” 

The Lord of Eregion seems to be already wrapped around his finger as a subtle blush roses on his cheeks.

“Our work can begin… with a letter.” he announces.

“A letter?” you ask. You had not expected that, you would have imagined him to ask for more Rings straight away.

He walks up the stairs and up to the open office, he picks up a quill from the desk and holds it out to Celebrimbor. “The Three Rings healed the Elves, I believe it can also heal Dwarven halls of stone.” 

Celebrimbor looks hesitant but takes the quill from his hands. You look to Annatar and he gives you a knowing smile. 

You whisper to him as the scribbling on parchment fills the room. “Rings for Dwarves?” 

“And Men, but let’s worry ourselves with the Dwarves first.” he says. “I’ll need you now, more than ever.” you couldn’t wait for his plan for Eregion. 

Durin already suspected Annatar was not to be trusted, but you made sure his loving wife would persuade him from these frivolous thoughts. As they spoke to Celebrimbor you sat by your workbench, drawing new designs for the Rings, perfecting them in any way. While your hand drew them, the other floated slightly above the paper, as if pushing away invisible speckles of dust. No one saw except for Annatar, how your power slowly made its way into Disa’s mind, planting the conviction of the success of the Rings for their people. 

As they left the forge you could still hear Disa convincing her husband to grant mithril for the Lord of Eregion. You would have to focus your magic on Prince Durin the next time they arrived, but you believed it would have been in vain as the Rings will be already granted to them and they would rejoice because they have to. The Lord of Gifts wouldn’t let it slide if they didn’t, all that work for no appreciation. 

Annatar slowly played his part, making Celebrimbor think that his ideas were his own when he began to write the letter to the High King. You returned to the forge to hear their voices, Annatar felt your presence and looked to you with pleading eyes, knowing that Celebrimbor is watching.

“What are you doing, my lord?” you ask as the Lord of Eregion picks up a quill. 

“I am congratulating the High King on the efficacy of The Three and telling him that I am closing up the forge.” he informs you as you walk up the stairs. You start to shake your head at the news, not knowing what has transpired earlier. “With a promise to join him in Lindon as soon as possible.”

Annatar notices your expression but reassures you. You feel a slight pull in your mind, the bond might be weak but started to grow ever slightly with the recent events and his proximity. 

“You would lie to your High King?” he questions Celebrimbor. The Lord of Eregion looks to you, his trusted smith that would know how important this is, that you would understand.

“I would grant us the space to complete our work.” he says. You act startled when his fists bangs on the table as he tells that he reached the height of his craft. “This… this is my moment. Now, he will not take it away.”

You give him a soft smile as Annatar circles around him. He looks to you and you leave the forge, knowing that Celebrimbor will be dead set on his work. After a few hours most of the smiths have already retired for the night, Celebrimbor left after you practically dragged him away from his table, reminding him that even the brightest minds have to rest. He let you lead him to the door as the forge became empty, the anvil covered for the night and Annatar leaning against it. 

He spoke when he knew there was no one around to eavesdrop.

“It’s been centuries since I’ve seen it properly.” he says.

The last time you used your power was to influence Morgoth to release you from his hold. The success didn’t last long as he felt you in his mind and chained you for the rest of your days in Forodwaith. 

You lift your hand up and let the magic flow around it, you could feel it tingling above your skin, whirling like a small storm as you walked up to him. It was captivating in every way, if you wanted you could make them appear like the light of the Silmarils, make the onlooker stare into its depth like Morgoth once did. 

He knew your true power lay dormant, waiting for a more suiting occasion. For now, the simple illusions and mind control would have to do to grant you some form of satisfaction. 

“Morgoth hasn’t taken everything.” you reply and let your darkened fingertips show from underneath the illusion. He takes your hand in his and places a soft kiss in the palm of it. “You truly believe he would create the Rings for Men? You’ve heard his objection before.” you voice your thoughts and he lets go of your hand. 

“That is where I need you.” you raise your eyebrow at his statement. “Let him see how demanding their creation is. Let him feel the ruin it would inflict on Middle-Earth if he never created them.”

Your mind spins with ideas but perhaps the simplest one is the best option. Annatar sees to it that it’s done when you sit down in your chambers and reach out to Celebrimbor’s mind, plaguing him with visions of Middle-Earth’s doom, with Men standing at the front lines, getting slaughtered while the races with the Rings survive. 

You make sure to leave no trail of your presence, having him face you in his dreams as arrows hit you repeatedly as you try to protect him. An Elven witch turned a respected smith, now dead while sacrificing herself to save his life for his mind filled with creations. He sees the emissary of the Valar down at his feet, covered in wounds that no mortal or immortal being would survive and the Lord of Eregion’s hand covered in blood, responsible for the fall of the Men.

He wakes up startled and you flee as quickly as possible. 

“Finished?” Annatar asks you as he sits on the edge of your bed. 

“For the night, yes.” you reply. 

“One time will not be enough.”

“I am aware, Mairon…” how he loved to hear his name slip out of your mouth. You see the look in his eyes but stop yourself, you’ve exhausted yourself for the day. “Do not fret. His days will be filled with glimpses of what could have beens.” 

And you did, even when the Rings for Dwarves have been completed, you had brought fear to his mind, when Annatar spoke to him of Rings for Men, he refused. Perhaps your visions were too frightening for him, but with the coming days, your work has only bore more fruits and Sauron knew that he had chosen an elf worthy of his vision for Middle-Earth.

[weclassygirl]

wonders

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: creation of the Rings is quite demanding, Lord of Gifts is here to ensure their completion

warnings: dream manipulation (fake deaths), not much besides that

word count: 3k

author’s note: i hope everything loads because my wifi sucks as of recent days. i've been trying to upload for over an hour now. finally we get a glimpse of reader's power so... enjoy! (previous part -> bewitched)

You wished you could drop the illusion even for a split second when you heard that he left Eregion. Galadriel found out who he was and went on to create the Rings nonetheless. In three there’s balance, she said, you wanted to disturb that balance. 

You felt them when she brought them to Lindon, felt the very life within you blossom as they worked their magic. The Elves would not leave the shores of Middle-Earth, but Eregion still didn’t know that. 

As Celebrimbor and the other smiths worked on the completion of the forge, you could do nothing but aimlessly wander the grounds, trying to connect to him. He let you, hesitantly and you found out why. Chained, dirty and wounded he laid inside the tent, waiting for the Lord-father to bargain with him again. 

You tried to break the chains, used whatever power was bestowed upon you to free him. They twitched lightly but nothing moved, not a nail that held them together, never bending under your fingers. 

You kneel next to him and place your hands on your lap. “It was worth a try.” you admit and he smiles despite being in pain. You could feel it, faintly, not as strong as it could be once you bind yourself to him.

“You should go back, you’re wasting your power on me.”

You place your hand on his cheek even if it’s a quickly forgotten feeling. “I wish to stay.” you reassure him. “The hour is late in Eregion, no one will look for me.” your chambers have been moved multiple times over the years, at first near the center, then moving further away until you could choose on your own. The edge of Ost-in-Edhil was a place of your choosing, quiet, no one to disturb you and your craft. You could be yourself within the walls.

Sauron closes his eyes to your touch but opens them as Adar walks inside the tent. You never met the Lord-father directly, only through the whispers of the Orcs but remembered the day he betrayed Sauron. 

A tear falls down Sauron’s face as Adar retells the story of how he met him. You understand him in a way, the servant of Morgoth had that effect even before he took on a new form. 

You’ve met him when he was injured, his cheek adorned by a gash that bled black, his shoulder shattered and his thigh cut through the bone. It took you some time before you healed him completely, Morgoth’s wounds always came first. When the orcs brought you to his bedside he was wide awake, waiting and holding onto his cheek. He could heal himself but why would he bother and use his power when you were at hand? 

Adar informs him that his people were set free and demands an answer to his question. What did he know of Sauron?

You saw his mind at work, he probably found the situation amusing. He smirks as he shifts on the ground to get a better look at the Lord-father.

“Sauron has returned in a new form.” the chains around his neck rattle. “I am not yet certain what shape he has taken.”

“Then of what use are you to me?” Adar asks. You lean against the stone as much as your illusion allows you to.

“I have something you don’t. The trust of the Elves… and a witch.” that piques Adar’s interest. 

“I wonder… what kind of witch would put her trust in you?” he has a faint idea that it might be you but to Adar you could be good as dead. He knew what kind of person you were, how Sauron quickly took liking to you in Forodwaith. You were no good company but if persuaded, you could prove a valuable ally. 

“Release me and I’ll go to them and seek him out, so you can marshal your legions and destroy him.”  he offers and Adar seems to consider. 

Waldreg comes closer. “Do you vow allegiance to Adar, Lord-father of the Uruks?”

Halbrand looks up at him and speaks quietly.

“Yes.”

“Then kneel.” His sight is focused on you as he does so, the disdain evident on his face as he bows before Adar. For a second it reminds you of the day he was betrayed by him. “Now swear it.” 

His head hangs low as he begins. “I vow—”

“With your head at my feet.” Adar commands and you see how he relishes in it. Soon enough both of you will once Sauron sets out to claim his army.

He takes his time putting his head to the ground, Adar watches carefully as do his children. The King of the Southlands at his mercy, thinking that he can use him as his pawn. You’ve seen the trick in his eyes, the lie and grin as he took the vow. He looks straight at you as he speaks the words and you feel a sense of power flowing through you. He means more than the words slipping from his lips. 

“I vow to serve the Lord of Mordor. To the end of my days… and his.”

His chains are let loose and slowly he rides out of the camp. Adar knows better not to trust him entirely, you observe him and he turns his head to you, you freeze. Could he…? You step closer and lift your hand up in front of his face, if you were at your full power you could snap his neck with the single movement of your hand. You have to hold yourself back.

As Halbrand leaves the camp you already wait for him at the hill and in the distance both of you hear screams - Waldreg. He grins like a child.

“Satisfied?” you ask as he halts the horse by you. 

„Very.” he responds. „I take it you will grant me entry once I arrive?” 

You shake your head. „Galadriel informed Celebrimbor to not treat with you. He doesn’t know who you are and I doubt he will allow me to make the decision.” you confess. You look back to the camp, the orcs moving around in the distance. „Use your charm, mention the Rings and he will be wrapped around your finger. Make him believe they worked wonders.” 

He nods and you disappear from his view. Back in your room you hear a knock at your door, your eyes flutter open as you notice dawn at the horizon. You go up to the door and see Mirdania at the other side, ready to walk with you to the forge as she always had in the mornings. 

The following days you wait until he comes by the gate. The new forge has been completed, everything set in place as you watch from the upper level. The anvil descended from the ceiling like the last piece of the puzzle, Celebrimbor beamed next to you as he saw his dream come true before his very eyes. 

„Fëanor would be proud.” you say to him and mean it. Creation of this forge was no mere task as well as crafting the Rings. You’d be a fool to admit otherwise.

Mirdania joins you and mentions a messenger from the Southlands, your heart skips a beat and you follow to see who it is from the balcony. He looks up at you before you fully take in his presence, disheveled, wounded and as ever prideful. 

Celebrimbor gives you one order. “Stay away from him.” but have you ever listened?

You come up to him during the day, Halbrand gets away from his horse and smiles at your arrival. 

„I tried.” you announce low enough for him to hear. He looks up to Celebrimbor standing on the balcony with a tug at his lips. 

„Give him time.” he only says and you trust his words. As simple as they are you know them to be true, Celebrimbor is but a note waiting to be plucked to the melody of his choosing. A conductor in waiting before entering the stage.

However when you return to the forge, Celebrimbor looks at you displeased as you defied his single order.

“He is not to be negotiated with.” he reminds you.

You pick up your apron from the chair and smooth it out as you think of an answer. “Forgive me, but I simply needed to make sure—” you start and sigh. “he appears to be injured.”

He is aware of how close the two of you have gotten over these few short days that he spent in Eregion. He puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Galadriel made herself clear. I know how much you seem to care for him but he is a mortal. His life will pass you in the blink of an eye whether you like it or not.” he tells you and you wish you could break the hand he held on your shoulder. Never to create again. The time draws near and you cannot wait until you’ll finally let go of this tiring illusion.

It takes a whole day before Celebrimbor lets him in, his eyes sparkled at the mention of the Rings. Halbrand covered in rain and wounds made the Lord of Eregion pity him. He welcomed him back, fed him and reveled when hearing about the success of the Rings. You stood in the shadows of the forge, listening to their conversation, waiting when Halbrand began his act, his own illusion. 

As Celebrimbor calls out for him, the forge began to burn brighter, you cover your eyes from the light when you see him. Grey-white robes draping from him, long blond hair graced with a golden head piece. He sauntered down to face Celebrimbor, an emissary from the Valar himself.

You stayed hidden until you found it fit to reveal yourself, as ever the innocent, accidentally knocking over a hammer that was on the table. You shuffle to pick it up, unable to look them in the eye. “Forgive me, my Lord. I—”

Celebrimbor has a gentle look on his face. “No… please. Uhm…” he looks to Annatar, unable to explain. The Lord of Gifts comes closer and takes the hammer from the ground and places it in your hands. 

“I believe I should be the one asking for forgiveness.” he admits, never taking his eyes off of you. “You may have known me as Halbrand, but I had to make sure that the three of us were of the same ambition.”

“The three of us?” Celebrimbor asks confused. His expression mimicked on your face as well. 

Annatar nods. “Yes. The Valar has observed you and your smith.” he turns to you and brings up his hand to your face. So delicate as if handling porcelain. “Once swayed to darkness, now working amongst the greatest smiths in all Middle-Earth.” he explains and gestures to Celebrimbor. “And the very descendant of Fëanor, who may have bested his kin.” 

The Lord of Eregion seems to be already wrapped around his finger as a subtle blush roses on his cheeks.

“Our work can begin… with a letter.” he announces.

“A letter?” you ask. You had not expected that, you would have imagined him to ask for more Rings straight away.

He walks up the stairs and up to the open office, he picks up a quill from the desk and holds it out to Celebrimbor. “The Three Rings healed the Elves, I believe it can also heal Dwarven halls of stone.” 

Celebrimbor looks hesitant but takes the quill from his hands. You look to Annatar and he gives you a knowing smile. 

You whisper to him as the scribbling on parchment fills the room. “Rings for Dwarves?” 

“And Men, but let’s worry ourselves with the Dwarves first.” he says. “I’ll need you now, more than ever.” you couldn’t wait for his plan for Eregion. 

Durin already suspected Annatar was not to be trusted, but you made sure his loving wife would persuade him from these frivolous thoughts. As they spoke to Celebrimbor you sat by your workbench, drawing new designs for the Rings, perfecting them in any way. While your hand drew them, the other floated slightly above the paper, as if pushing away invisible speckles of dust. No one saw except for Annatar, how your power slowly made its way into Disa’s mind, planting the conviction of the success of the Rings for their people. 

As they left the forge you could still hear Disa convincing her husband to grant mithril for the Lord of Eregion. You would have to focus your magic on Prince Durin the next time they arrived, but you believed it would have been in vain as the Rings will be already granted to them and they would rejoice because they have to. The Lord of Gifts wouldn’t let it slide if they didn’t, all that work for no appreciation. 

Annatar slowly played his part, making Celebrimbor think that his ideas were his own when he began to write the letter to the High King. You returned to the forge to hear their voices, Annatar felt your presence and looked to you with pleading eyes, knowing that Celebrimbor is watching.

“What are you doing, my lord?” you ask as the Lord of Eregion picks up a quill. 

“I am congratulating the High King on the efficacy of The Three and telling him that I am closing up the forge.” he informs you as you walk up the stairs. You start to shake your head at the news, not knowing what has transpired earlier. “With a promise to join him in Lindon as soon as possible.”

Annatar notices your expression but reassures you. You feel a slight pull in your mind, the bond might be weak but started to grow ever slightly with the recent events and his proximity. 

“You would lie to your High King?” he questions Celebrimbor. The Lord of Eregion looks to you, his trusted smith that would know how important this is, that you would understand.

“I would grant us the space to complete our work.” he says. You act startled when his fists bangs on the table as he tells that he reached the height of his craft. “This… this is my moment. Now, he will not take it away.”

You give him a soft smile as Annatar circles around him. He looks to you and you leave the forge, knowing that Celebrimbor will be dead set on his work. After a few hours most of the smiths have already retired for the night, Celebrimbor left after you practically dragged him away from his table, reminding him that even the brightest minds have to rest. He let you lead him to the door as the forge became empty, the anvil covered for the night and Annatar leaning against it. 

He spoke when he knew there was no one around to eavesdrop.

“It’s been centuries since I’ve seen it properly.” he says.

The last time you used your power was to influence Morgoth to release you from his hold. The success didn’t last long as he felt you in his mind and chained you for the rest of your days in Forodwaith. 

You lift your hand up and let the magic flow around it, you could feel it tingling above your skin, whirling like a small storm as you walked up to him. It was captivating in every way, if you wanted you could make them appear like the light of the Silmarils, make the onlooker stare into its depth like Morgoth once did. 

He knew your true power lay dormant, waiting for a more suiting occasion. For now, the simple illusions and mind control would have to do to grant you some form of satisfaction. 

“Morgoth hasn’t taken everything.” you reply and let your darkened fingertips show from underneath the illusion. He takes your hand in his and places a soft kiss in the palm of it. “You truly believe he would create the Rings for Men? You’ve heard his objection before.” you voice your thoughts and he lets go of your hand. 

“That is where I need you.” you raise your eyebrow at his statement. “Let him see how demanding their creation is. Let him feel the ruin it would inflict on Middle-Earth if he never created them.”

Your mind spins with ideas but perhaps the simplest one is the best option. Annatar sees to it that it’s done when you sit down in your chambers and reach out to Celebrimbor’s mind, plaguing him with visions of Middle-Earth’s doom, with Men standing at the front lines, getting slaughtered while the races with the Rings survive. 

You make sure to leave no trail of your presence, having him face you in his dreams as arrows hit you repeatedly as you try to protect him. An Elven witch turned a respected smith, now dead while sacrificing herself to save his life for his mind filled with creations. He sees the emissary of the Valar down at his feet, covered in wounds that no mortal or immortal being would survive and the Lord of Eregion’s hand covered in blood, responsible for the fall of the Men.

He wakes up startled and you flee as quickly as possible. 

“Finished?” Annatar asks you as he sits on the edge of your bed. 

“For the night, yes.” you reply. 

“One time will not be enough.”

“I am aware, Mairon…” how he loved to hear his name slip out of your mouth. You see the look in his eyes but stop yourself, you’ve exhausted yourself for the day. “Do not fret. His days will be filled with glimpses of what could have beens.” 

And you did, even when the Rings for Dwarves have been completed, you had brought fear to his mind, when Annatar spoke to him of Rings for Men, he refused. Perhaps your visions were too frightening for him, but with the coming days, your work has only bore more fruits and Sauron knew that he had chosen an elf worthy of his vision for Middle-Earth.

[weclassygirl]

my toxic trait is that i genuinely believe that the side effects of immortality won't affect me. i have so much stuff i want to learn i won't even notice the centuries go by. also i'm nosey as hell so the decades-deep gossip would keep myself from isolating from human society because i want to know what's going on. i would make such a good vampire i stand by this

[weclassygirl]

[weclassygirl]

At this point we’ll keep killing each other with Sauron smut 😅

Glad you liked it, means the world to me! 🥰

bewitched

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: years of hidden yearning and need and a night to remember

warnings: smut (fingering, semi public) light choking, slight voyeurism kink, exhibitionism

word count: 2,2k

author’s note: had to add it in before a real work begins (my first smut so...). they needed it for sure or they would have done it in front of Celebrimbor once they couldn't take the tension anymore. enjoy! (previous part -> scheme)

It was rare to see him like that, in his element, focused only on his work. You found yourself captivated how he moves around the workshop, how Celebrimbor valued his work. The forge worked day and night, trying to work with mithril, each smith has made their suggestion, offered every metal known to the peoples of Middle-Earth and yet none of them wished to connect with the stone.

They work for weeks, an attempt is made at stretching out mithril but with no desired result. A crown for the High King became a task kindred to that of creation of the Silmarils. You’ve worked nearly without rest, aiding in empowering the precious metal, Celebrimbor notices your vigor and the way Halbrand moved with ease around you, like two flames lit up to reach the same purpose. He would propose any idea his mind came up with to Celebrimbor and then to you, always to you. 

The Lord of Eregion found it unusual how quickly the two of you made connection, after all these years you’ve opened up to someone and he wasn’t even an Elf. He did not interfere in this, you seemed to work better because of Halbrand, even if it was possible. 

He came to you each night, overseeing your progress in your craft closely, being in a physical form made the contact easier. You couldn’t be by his side all the time, people would have noticed, he found moments he could talk with you, not about his plans or your craft. A simple conversation shared by two people with the same ambitions.

You’ve known him for years and yet he came up with ways to surprise you. You were glad he was in Eregion, not the shadow in your mind, you felt yourself drawn to him and he to you. Like, call to like.

His enthusiasm for work showed, a bit too much for your liking sometimes. You’ve seen Galadriel sneaking around Eregion, conversing with the librarians, which made you uneasy. 

Something was wrong.

You saw him by the pond, a long day of work visible in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Only a dim light illuminated him but you could still see his brow adorned by dust and shards of metal and you wondered how long he would look like this. A mortal man, handsome in his own right, who wouldn’t fall for his charm? 

The feeling in your gut lingered, his identity was bound to be discovered. He knew you worried and assured you that he had a plan.

“And what if it fails?” you ask as you come down the steps. Many would have stopped being his collaborator, but not you, not when you’ve been by his side for so many years, whether at first you hated the very thought.

“Do you truly think so little of me?” he counters.

You huff, this man… “I think that it is a risk, staying here longer than you need to. This…” you gesture toward his appearance “will not fool everyone. They will notice.”

He steps closer and places his fingers under your chin, he likes to see you try and tear your sight away from his. He knows that you’re not the one to walk away from a challenge.

“With time, they will see and believe whatever I want them to.” he pulls away but the feeling of his fingers lingers.

“How long do you plan to retain this form?” you ask. He tilts his head and looks down at his clothes and hands.

“Is it not to your liking?” 

“I didn’t say that.” you tease. You look over the trees to the towers. “Eregion is the realm of the Elven smiths not men. You're a King, they’d expect you to be with your people.” he takes your hand, the illusion from it lifted in the comfort of his presence. He traces the scar absentmindedly.

“And would my queen join me?”

Queen… He never called you that before. “We’re not bound.” you remind him.

“And yet the idea entices you, after all these years.” he lets go of your hand and places his on your shoulder. “Shame to let it go to waste.” 

“Why not have it all for yourself?” you ask genuinely. He could have it all, Middle-Earth, all of the races under his rule. His hand snakes up to your cheek, making you look up at him again.

“I’ll burden myself with the crown and let you cherish in the light of it. No one to command or put you through suffering again.” 

“On my deathbed.” you whisper as he leans closer, his breath on your neck making you shiver. 

“I’d prefer little death slipping from your mouth.” 

Despite your defiance, you lean into his touch as his lips place kisses on your neck and for a moment you believe it to be an illusion, another vision conjured up by him, far away from your reach. He reminds you of the realness of this moment when his hand cups your jaw and closes the distance between you. 

You’d make a fool of yourself if you pushed him away, especially when he’s been on your mind for so many years. He would have reveled if he knew the many sleepless nights you’ve spent trying to get rid of the revenant feeling of his touch. How with every disappearance from your chambers you longed for nothing more than to ask him, beg him to stay. Perhaps he knew with how he looked at you right now, eyes dark with desire, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss. 

You push him back onto the stone bench, his hands wander to pick up as much fabric as they can when you straddle him. He grabs the back of your neck to crash your lips onto his, you bite at his lips, wanting more and accidentally draw blood. He pulls away and swipes his thumb over the cut, black blood spreading over his lip. He looks up at you and brings the thumb to your lips, he brushes against them once until you open your mouth and lick away the blood from his finger. The sight would have sent him to the Undying Lands that very moment, but he couldn’t part just yet until he had his fill of you. 

His hands slither under your dress, his touch like fire lingering on your skin. Carved by Morgoth and worshipped at Sauron’s hands. He takes your hand in his and kisses each darkened finger, his lips linger on the scarred one. 

“I take it it’s to your liking then.” he teases and you grab his jaw, his stubble softly digging into your skin.

“Your shadowed form was quite pleasing as well.” you retort and kiss him once more. You’d let him swallow you whole, let him corrupt you even further just to have him near you. 

He hand slips between you two and dips into you, the intrusion welcomed as you draw a breath between your lips. The bundle of nerves that ached for him, falls apart at the simplest touch. Your head tilts back as he withdraws his fingers only to push them back in, his rhythm increasing slowly, he would not have you out of his grip yet. 

Your cunt clenches around him when he adds another finger and Sauron grabs at your throat, putting the smallest pressure that could bring you to the edge. He chuckles as he watches you, his lips kiss up your throat.

“So willing.” he taunts and you return from your bliss state at his words. Your hand sneaks under his robe to return the favor, he groans as you grab his cock, your hand moving in time with his fingers deep in your cunt. 

There’s a wicked smile tugging at your lips and he wishes nothing more to let you have your way with him. He knows he’s done for as he takes your appearance, breathless and wanton. 

A witch that bewitched his body and soul. 

You gasp when he pushes away the fabric covering your breasts, his mouth dives to devour. Black Speech slips from your mouth when he pulls at your nipple and oh, how cherishes the sound. He taught you it, even if you picked it up from the Orcs guarding your cell in Forodwaith. 

“Fuck.” you breathe out as his hand picks up its pace and another tugs at your nipples. You moan against his neck when your hand on his cock begins to falter, to blissed out to form a coherent sentence. You kiss up his neck and move to brush your lips against his. 

The night settles over Eregion and he wishes to stay in this moment, create an illusion of the two of you to roam and work in Eregion while he fucks you endlessly in your chambers. Your mind drifts again but is snapped to reality when the two of you hear people approaching. You pull away but his fingers stay inside you, his pace dying down but not fully.

“Mairon.” you warn him and a corner of his lips lifts up. 

You never called him Sauron, the Abhorred, and he was grateful.

The chatter grows and you feel a soft wind around you, Sauron’s hand continues its ministrations. You realize he’s cast an illusion over the two of you. To anyone looking it would appear as if the two of you were having a simple conversation on the bench. Any wiser would see a scandalous scene and you wish you could see their reaction. 

You recognize them, the smiths you worked closely over the years, they call out your name. “Still awake?”

You nearly curse Sauron when he adds another finger. You try your best to respond under the illusion. “Yes.” 

“Discussing new ideas.” he adds and flicks over your bud with his thumb. You nearly smack him but the pleasure is too great for you to care. 

You’re too far gone to continue the meaningless conversation, Sauron takes over your voice until the smiths leave. Your hand squeezes him ever slightly, moving faster with each stroke and he grabs your hair. 

“Careful, witch.” his threat is interrupted by the moan that follows. You smile mischievously, oh how you could just stop the time to feel him bring you to your pleasure over and over again. 

“Would you let them see?” you question against his lips. You on display as he laps at your folds and sets a relentless pace with his cock buried deep inside you. Doing whatever he pleases with you, whatever you wish to do with him.

His pace quickens and you spiral close to your release. His breathing becomes labored with each pump of your hand. 

“I would make them wish they were you.” his words set you ablaze as you spill around his fingers. You moan into his mouth, body shuddering with release and he does not let go until your body completely gives out. Your head falls into the crook of his neck when his fingers leave you and immediately miss the feeling. 

He brings up his fingers to your mouth and lets you taste yourself from them. You lick them clean like a starved woman and the sight arouses him even more, his cock straining against his robes again. He licks up your hand, swallowing every last drop, truly worthy of each other.

He lifts you up from him and kneels before you, you arch your eyebrow when he lifts your dress once more. His tongue darts out to clean every drop that has not coated his fingers, the heat pools inside you as he slowly laps at your folds. You arch your back, in too fucked state to form a coherent sentence. His hands travel back to your breasts and you whimper in pleasure.

You feel your second orgasm coming in waves and he lets you ride it out on his face, gladly cleaning you up again. His moans reverberate against you, Black Speech on his tongue as he praises you. You look down at him as he comes up, your need for him still growing but you hold yourself back, you’ll have him completely another day. 

There’s no turning back now.

He kisses your neck, jaw, cheek and finally lips. Your tongue makes its way into his mouth, his passion burning brighter with each touch. Years you’ve longed for this and won’t feel satisfied until you have him all.

“Bind yourself to me.” he whispers against your lips and you consider this time. He brushes away strands of your hair and you melt into his touch when it lands on your cheek. 

“Not yet.” you respond, the words he so often spoke to you when the matter was brought up. You knew that if you did and he was no longer within your reach you would have gone mad. He would have loved to see the havoc you would wreak in his name.

You lean closer to him as he kneels before you. Your hand cups his jaw before pulling it to you. Your words a threat and a promise.

“Make sure your path to glory doesn’t lead to a grave and I will.”

He smiles. 

You were perfect.

[weclassygirl]

She almost did, almost. She walks on the line whether she should or not, his power connected with hers is a tempting thought.

Glad you liked it and the series 🤍 🥰

bewitched

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: years of hidden yearning and need and a night to remember

warnings: smut (fingering, semi public) light choking, slight voyeurism kink, exhibitionism

word count: 2,2k

author’s note: had to add it in before a real work begins (my first smut so...). they needed it for sure or they would have done it in front of Celebrimbor once they couldn't take the tension anymore. enjoy! (previous part -> scheme)

It was rare to see him like that, in his element, focused only on his work. You found yourself captivated how he moves around the workshop, how Celebrimbor valued his work. The forge worked day and night, trying to work with mithril, each smith has made their suggestion, offered every metal known to the peoples of Middle-Earth and yet none of them wished to connect with the stone.

They work for weeks, an attempt is made at stretching out mithril but with no desired result. A crown for the High King became a task kindred to that of creation of the Silmarils. You’ve worked nearly without rest, aiding in empowering the precious metal, Celebrimbor notices your vigor and the way Halbrand moved with ease around you, like two flames lit up to reach the same purpose. He would propose any idea his mind came up with to Celebrimbor and then to you, always to you. 

The Lord of Eregion found it unusual how quickly the two of you made connection, after all these years you’ve opened up to someone and he wasn’t even an Elf. He did not interfere in this, you seemed to work better because of Halbrand, even if it was possible. 

He came to you each night, overseeing your progress in your craft closely, being in a physical form made the contact easier. You couldn’t be by his side all the time, people would have noticed, he found moments he could talk with you, not about his plans or your craft. A simple conversation shared by two people with the same ambitions.

You’ve known him for years and yet he came up with ways to surprise you. You were glad he was in Eregion, not the shadow in your mind, you felt yourself drawn to him and he to you. Like, call to like.

His enthusiasm for work showed, a bit too much for your liking sometimes. You’ve seen Galadriel sneaking around Eregion, conversing with the librarians, which made you uneasy. 

Something was wrong.

You saw him by the pond, a long day of work visible in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Only a dim light illuminated him but you could still see his brow adorned by dust and shards of metal and you wondered how long he would look like this. A mortal man, handsome in his own right, who wouldn’t fall for his charm? 

The feeling in your gut lingered, his identity was bound to be discovered. He knew you worried and assured you that he had a plan.

“And what if it fails?” you ask as you come down the steps. Many would have stopped being his collaborator, but not you, not when you’ve been by his side for so many years, whether at first you hated the very thought.

“Do you truly think so little of me?” he counters.

You huff, this man… “I think that it is a risk, staying here longer than you need to. This…” you gesture toward his appearance “will not fool everyone. They will notice.”

He steps closer and places his fingers under your chin, he likes to see you try and tear your sight away from his. He knows that you’re not the one to walk away from a challenge.

“With time, they will see and believe whatever I want them to.” he pulls away but the feeling of his fingers lingers.

“How long do you plan to retain this form?” you ask. He tilts his head and looks down at his clothes and hands.

“Is it not to your liking?” 

“I didn’t say that.” you tease. You look over the trees to the towers. “Eregion is the realm of the Elven smiths not men. You're a King, they’d expect you to be with your people.” he takes your hand, the illusion from it lifted in the comfort of his presence. He traces the scar absentmindedly.

“And would my queen join me?”

Queen… He never called you that before. “We’re not bound.” you remind him.

“And yet the idea entices you, after all these years.” he lets go of your hand and places his on your shoulder. “Shame to let it go to waste.” 

“Why not have it all for yourself?” you ask genuinely. He could have it all, Middle-Earth, all of the races under his rule. His hand snakes up to your cheek, making you look up at him again.

“I’ll burden myself with the crown and let you cherish in the light of it. No one to command or put you through suffering again.” 

“On my deathbed.” you whisper as he leans closer, his breath on your neck making you shiver. 

“I’d prefer little death slipping from your mouth.” 

Despite your defiance, you lean into his touch as his lips place kisses on your neck and for a moment you believe it to be an illusion, another vision conjured up by him, far away from your reach. He reminds you of the realness of this moment when his hand cups your jaw and closes the distance between you. 

You’d make a fool of yourself if you pushed him away, especially when he’s been on your mind for so many years. He would have reveled if he knew the many sleepless nights you’ve spent trying to get rid of the revenant feeling of his touch. How with every disappearance from your chambers you longed for nothing more than to ask him, beg him to stay. Perhaps he knew with how he looked at you right now, eyes dark with desire, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss. 

You push him back onto the stone bench, his hands wander to pick up as much fabric as they can when you straddle him. He grabs the back of your neck to crash your lips onto his, you bite at his lips, wanting more and accidentally draw blood. He pulls away and swipes his thumb over the cut, black blood spreading over his lip. He looks up at you and brings the thumb to your lips, he brushes against them once until you open your mouth and lick away the blood from his finger. The sight would have sent him to the Undying Lands that very moment, but he couldn’t part just yet until he had his fill of you. 

His hands slither under your dress, his touch like fire lingering on your skin. Carved by Morgoth and worshipped at Sauron’s hands. He takes your hand in his and kisses each darkened finger, his lips linger on the scarred one. 

“I take it it’s to your liking then.” he teases and you grab his jaw, his stubble softly digging into your skin.

“Your shadowed form was quite pleasing as well.” you retort and kiss him once more. You’d let him swallow you whole, let him corrupt you even further just to have him near you. 

He hand slips between you two and dips into you, the intrusion welcomed as you draw a breath between your lips. The bundle of nerves that ached for him, falls apart at the simplest touch. Your head tilts back as he withdraws his fingers only to push them back in, his rhythm increasing slowly, he would not have you out of his grip yet. 

Your cunt clenches around him when he adds another finger and Sauron grabs at your throat, putting the smallest pressure that could bring you to the edge. He chuckles as he watches you, his lips kiss up your throat.

“So willing.” he taunts and you return from your bliss state at his words. Your hand sneaks under his robe to return the favor, he groans as you grab his cock, your hand moving in time with his fingers deep in your cunt. 

There’s a wicked smile tugging at your lips and he wishes nothing more to let you have your way with him. He knows he’s done for as he takes your appearance, breathless and wanton. 

A witch that bewitched his body and soul. 

You gasp when he pushes away the fabric covering your breasts, his mouth dives to devour. Black Speech slips from your mouth when he pulls at your nipple and oh, how cherishes the sound. He taught you it, even if you picked it up from the Orcs guarding your cell in Forodwaith. 

“Fuck.” you breathe out as his hand picks up its pace and another tugs at your nipples. You moan against his neck when your hand on his cock begins to falter, to blissed out to form a coherent sentence. You kiss up his neck and move to brush your lips against his. 

The night settles over Eregion and he wishes to stay in this moment, create an illusion of the two of you to roam and work in Eregion while he fucks you endlessly in your chambers. Your mind drifts again but is snapped to reality when the two of you hear people approaching. You pull away but his fingers stay inside you, his pace dying down but not fully.

“Mairon.” you warn him and a corner of his lips lifts up. 

You never called him Sauron, the Abhorred, and he was grateful.

The chatter grows and you feel a soft wind around you, Sauron’s hand continues its ministrations. You realize he’s cast an illusion over the two of you. To anyone looking it would appear as if the two of you were having a simple conversation on the bench. Any wiser would see a scandalous scene and you wish you could see their reaction. 

You recognize them, the smiths you worked closely over the years, they call out your name. “Still awake?”

You nearly curse Sauron when he adds another finger. You try your best to respond under the illusion. “Yes.” 

“Discussing new ideas.” he adds and flicks over your bud with his thumb. You nearly smack him but the pleasure is too great for you to care. 

You’re too far gone to continue the meaningless conversation, Sauron takes over your voice until the smiths leave. Your hand squeezes him ever slightly, moving faster with each stroke and he grabs your hair. 

“Careful, witch.” his threat is interrupted by the moan that follows. You smile mischievously, oh how you could just stop the time to feel him bring you to your pleasure over and over again. 

“Would you let them see?” you question against his lips. You on display as he laps at your folds and sets a relentless pace with his cock buried deep inside you. Doing whatever he pleases with you, whatever you wish to do with him.

His pace quickens and you spiral close to your release. His breathing becomes labored with each pump of your hand. 

“I would make them wish they were you.” his words set you ablaze as you spill around his fingers. You moan into his mouth, body shuddering with release and he does not let go until your body completely gives out. Your head falls into the crook of his neck when his fingers leave you and immediately miss the feeling. 

He brings up his fingers to your mouth and lets you taste yourself from them. You lick them clean like a starved woman and the sight arouses him even more, his cock straining against his robes again. He licks up your hand, swallowing every last drop, truly worthy of each other.

He lifts you up from him and kneels before you, you arch your eyebrow when he lifts your dress once more. His tongue darts out to clean every drop that has not coated his fingers, the heat pools inside you as he slowly laps at your folds. You arch your back, in too fucked state to form a coherent sentence. His hands travel back to your breasts and you whimper in pleasure.

You feel your second orgasm coming in waves and he lets you ride it out on his face, gladly cleaning you up again. His moans reverberate against you, Black Speech on his tongue as he praises you. You look down at him as he comes up, your need for him still growing but you hold yourself back, you’ll have him completely another day. 

There’s no turning back now.

He kisses your neck, jaw, cheek and finally lips. Your tongue makes its way into his mouth, his passion burning brighter with each touch. Years you’ve longed for this and won’t feel satisfied until you have him all.

“Bind yourself to me.” he whispers against your lips and you consider this time. He brushes away strands of your hair and you melt into his touch when it lands on your cheek. 

“Not yet.” you respond, the words he so often spoke to you when the matter was brought up. You knew that if you did and he was no longer within your reach you would have gone mad. He would have loved to see the havoc you would wreak in his name.

You lean closer to him as he kneels before you. Your hand cups his jaw before pulling it to you. Your words a threat and a promise.

“Make sure your path to glory doesn’t lead to a grave and I will.”

He smiles. 

You were perfect.

[weclassygirl]

bewitched

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: years of hidden yearning and need and a night to remember

warnings: smut (fingering, semi public) light choking, slight voyeurism kink, exhibitionism

word count: 2,2k

author’s note: had to add it in before a real work begins (my first smut so...). they needed it for sure or they would have done it in front of Celebrimbor once they couldn't take the tension anymore. enjoy! (previous part -> scheme)

It was rare to see him like that, in his element, focused only on his work. You found yourself captivated how he moves around the workshop, how Celebrimbor valued his work. The forge worked day and night, trying to work with mithril, each smith has made their suggestion, offered every metal known to the peoples of Middle-Earth and yet none of them wished to connect with the stone.

They work for weeks, an attempt is made at stretching out mithril but with no desired result. A crown for the High King became a task kindred to that of creation of the Silmarils. You’ve worked nearly without rest, aiding in empowering the precious metal, Celebrimbor notices your vigor and the way Halbrand moved with ease around you, like two flames lit up to reach the same purpose. He would propose any idea his mind came up with to Celebrimbor and then to you, always to you. 

The Lord of Eregion found it unusual how quickly the two of you made connection, after all these years you’ve opened up to someone and he wasn’t even an Elf. He did not interfere in this, you seemed to work better because of Halbrand, even if it was possible. 

He came to you each night, overseeing your progress in your craft closely, being in a physical form made the contact easier. You couldn’t be by his side all the time, people would have noticed, he found moments he could talk with you, not about his plans or your craft. A simple conversation shared by two people with the same ambitions.

You’ve known him for years and yet he came up with ways to surprise you. You were glad he was in Eregion, not the shadow in your mind, you felt yourself drawn to him and he to you. Like, call to like.

His enthusiasm for work showed, a bit too much for your liking sometimes. You’ve seen Galadriel sneaking around Eregion, conversing with the librarians, which made you uneasy. 

Something was wrong.

You saw him by the pond, a long day of work visible in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Only a dim light illuminated him but you could still see his brow adorned by dust and shards of metal and you wondered how long he would look like this. A mortal man, handsome in his own right, who wouldn’t fall for his charm? 

The feeling in your gut lingered, his identity was bound to be discovered. He knew you worried and assured you that he had a plan.

“And what if it fails?” you ask as you come down the steps. Many would have stopped being his collaborator, but not you, not when you’ve been by his side for so many years, whether at first you hated the very thought.

“Do you truly think so little of me?” he counters.

You huff, this man… “I think that it is a risk, staying here longer than you need to. This…” you gesture toward his appearance “will not fool everyone. They will notice.”

He steps closer and places his fingers under your chin, he likes to see you try and tear your sight away from his. He knows that you’re not the one to walk away from a challenge.

“With time, they will see and believe whatever I want them to.” he pulls away but the feeling of his fingers lingers.

“How long do you plan to retain this form?” you ask. He tilts his head and looks down at his clothes and hands.

“Is it not to your liking?” 

“I didn’t say that.” you tease. You look over the trees to the towers. “Eregion is the realm of the Elven smiths not men. You're a King, they’d expect you to be with your people.” he takes your hand, the illusion from it lifted in the comfort of his presence. He traces the scar absentmindedly.

“And would my queen join me?”

Queen… He never called you that before. “We’re not bound.” you remind him.

“And yet the idea entices you, after all these years.” he lets go of your hand and places his on your shoulder. “Shame to let it go to waste.” 

“Why not have it all for yourself?” you ask genuinely. He could have it all, Middle-Earth, all of the races under his rule. His hand snakes up to your cheek, making you look up at him again.

“I’ll burden myself with the crown and let you cherish in the light of it. No one to command or put you through suffering again.” 

“On my deathbed.” you whisper as he leans closer, his breath on your neck making you shiver. 

“I’d prefer little death slipping from your mouth.” 

Despite your defiance, you lean into his touch as his lips place kisses on your neck and for a moment you believe it to be an illusion, another vision conjured up by him, far away from your reach. He reminds you of the realness of this moment when his hand cups your jaw and closes the distance between you. 

You’d make a fool of yourself if you pushed him away, especially when he’s been on your mind for so many years. He would have reveled if he knew the many sleepless nights you’ve spent trying to get rid of the revenant feeling of his touch. How with every disappearance from your chambers you longed for nothing more than to ask him, beg him to stay. Perhaps he knew with how he looked at you right now, eyes dark with desire, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss. 

You push him back onto the stone bench, his hands wander to pick up as much fabric as they can when you straddle him. He grabs the back of your neck to crash your lips onto his, you bite at his lips, wanting more and accidentally draw blood. He pulls away and swipes his thumb over the cut, black blood spreading over his lip. He looks up at you and brings the thumb to your lips, he brushes against them once until you open your mouth and lick away the blood from his finger. The sight would have sent him to the Undying Lands that very moment, but he couldn’t part just yet until he had his fill of you. 

His hands slither under your dress, his touch like fire lingering on your skin. Carved by Morgoth and worshipped at Sauron’s hands. He takes your hand in his and kisses each darkened finger, his lips linger on the scarred one. 

“I take it it’s to your liking then.” he teases and you grab his jaw, his stubble softly digging into your skin.

“Your shadowed form was quite pleasing as well.” you retort and kiss him once more. You’d let him swallow you whole, let him corrupt you even further just to have him near you. 

He hand slips between you two and dips into you, the intrusion welcomed as you draw a breath between your lips. The bundle of nerves that ached for him, falls apart at the simplest touch. Your head tilts back as he withdraws his fingers only to push them back in, his rhythm increasing slowly, he would not have you out of his grip yet. 

Your cunt clenches around him when he adds another finger and Sauron grabs at your throat, putting the smallest pressure that could bring you to the edge. He chuckles as he watches you, his lips kiss up your throat.

“So willing.” he taunts and you return from your bliss state at his words. Your hand sneaks under his robe to return the favor, he groans as you grab his cock, your hand moving in time with his fingers deep in your cunt. 

There’s a wicked smile tugging at your lips and he wishes nothing more to let you have your way with him. He knows he’s done for as he takes your appearance, breathless and wanton. 

A witch that bewitched his body and soul. 

You gasp when he pushes away the fabric covering your breasts, his mouth dives to devour. Black Speech slips from your mouth when he pulls at your nipple and oh, how cherishes the sound. He taught you it, even if you picked it up from the Orcs guarding your cell in Forodwaith. 

“Fuck.” you breathe out as his hand picks up its pace and another tugs at your nipples. You moan against his neck when your hand on his cock begins to falter, to blissed out to form a coherent sentence. You kiss up his neck and move to brush your lips against his. 

The night settles over Eregion and he wishes to stay in this moment, create an illusion of the two of you to roam and work in Eregion while he fucks you endlessly in your chambers. Your mind drifts again but is snapped to reality when the two of you hear people approaching. You pull away but his fingers stay inside you, his pace dying down but not fully.

“Mairon.” you warn him and a corner of his lips lifts up. 

You never called him Sauron, the Abhorred, and he was grateful.

The chatter grows and you feel a soft wind around you, Sauron’s hand continues its ministrations. You realize he’s cast an illusion over the two of you. To anyone looking it would appear as if the two of you were having a simple conversation on the bench. Any wiser would see a scandalous scene and you wish you could see their reaction. 

You recognize them, the smiths you worked closely over the years, they call out your name. “Still awake?”

You nearly curse Sauron when he adds another finger. You try your best to respond under the illusion. “Yes.” 

“Discussing new ideas.” he adds and flicks over your bud with his thumb. You nearly smack him but the pleasure is too great for you to care. 

You’re too far gone to continue the meaningless conversation, Sauron takes over your voice until the smiths leave. Your hand squeezes him ever slightly, moving faster with each stroke and he grabs your hair. 

“Careful, witch.” his threat is interrupted by the moan that follows. You smile mischievously, oh how you could just stop the time to feel him bring you to your pleasure over and over again. 

“Would you let them see?” you question against his lips. You on display as he laps at your folds and sets a relentless pace with his cock buried deep inside you. Doing whatever he pleases with you, whatever you wish to do with him.

His pace quickens and you spiral close to your release. His breathing becomes labored with each pump of your hand. 

“I would make them wish they were you.” his words set you ablaze as you spill around his fingers. You moan into his mouth, body shuddering with release and he does not let go until your body completely gives out. Your head falls into the crook of his neck when his fingers leave you and immediately miss the feeling. 

He brings up his fingers to your mouth and lets you taste yourself from them. You lick them clean like a starved woman and the sight arouses him even more, his cock straining against his robes again. He licks up your hand, swallowing every last drop, truly worthy of each other.

He lifts you up from him and kneels before you, you arch your eyebrow when he lifts your dress once more. His tongue darts out to clean every drop that has not coated his fingers, the heat pools inside you as he slowly laps at your folds. You arch your back, in too fucked state to form a coherent sentence. His hands travel back to your breasts and you whimper in pleasure.

You feel your second orgasm coming in waves and he lets you ride it out on his face, gladly cleaning you up again. His moans reverberate against you, Black Speech on his tongue as he praises you. You look down at him as he comes up, your need for him still growing but you hold yourself back, you’ll have him completely another day. 

There’s no turning back now.

He kisses your neck, jaw, cheek and finally lips. Your tongue makes its way into his mouth, his passion burning brighter with each touch. Years you’ve longed for this and won’t feel satisfied until you have him all.

“Bind yourself to me.” he whispers against your lips and you consider this time. He brushes away strands of your hair and you melt into his touch when it lands on your cheek. 

“Not yet.” you respond, the words he so often spoke to you when the matter was brought up. You knew that if you did and he was no longer within your reach you would have gone mad. He would have loved to see the havoc you would wreak in his name.

You lean closer to him as he kneels before you. Your hand cups his jaw before pulling it to you. Your words a threat and a promise.

“Make sure your path to glory doesn’t lead to a grave and I will.”

He smiles. 

You were perfect.

next part --> wonders

[weclassygirl]

slowburn for a reason (hundred or thousand of years for them) 🫠 gotta take some notes as i rewatch s2 so the next parts go as i want them go 🤍

scheme

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: reader meets her shadow in the flesh as two riders enter Eregion

warnings: some blood (fake wound)

word count: 2,8k

author’s note: he's finally here! might take a moment before i update (i need to rewatch season 2 for him), but the next chapter.... ugh i can't wait to post it. enjoy! (previous part -> deception)

He doesn’t, for weeks he doesn’t reach out, does not even give you a sign he’s alive. You wish you could rip him to shreds once you see him again even if his very essence would slip through your fingers.

Celebrimbor notices you’ve become distracted, your work becomes sloppy, where once was attention to details and strive for perfection now lay curses under your breath when another piece of work is ruined. 

He comes to your side and places a hand on your shoulder. “Rest.” 

You turn to face him, the hammer still in your hand as well as the chisel. “I have to finish—“ he places your tools down, you don’t protest.

“You’ve been working yourself to the bone and your mind is not where it’s supposed to be.” you sigh, he’s right even he does not know the true reason. You take off your apron and put it on the stool before leaving the forge. 

You wander to the gardens and around Eregion trying to clear your head. You try to see past the trees, behind the horizon, maybe he’s out there. Wishful thinking. 

You’ve heard of the attacks on the Southlands, men fighting against orcs and the destruction it placed over the land. They call it under a different name now. Out of the corner of your eye you see horses, a rider clad in armor and a man. A messenger, probably. Eregion always had news to answer and these days it seemed more than ever. 

You come back to the forge after a while despite Celebrimbor’s refusal. You needed to occupy your mind, the blade you’ve been working on was nearly finished. You’ve been mixing metals to try and combine them into a nearly ethereal glow, mithril was far out of your reach. You’ve helped with the construction of the tower, not like the might of the Dwarves but your work has been appreciated. 

Elrond came before spring to help Celebrimbor and he secured it when Prince Durin sent his for forces to Eregion. The secrecy has been languid, you knew what Celebrimbor was hiding, he knew of mithril, knew that the very light of the Elves was fading, yours included. You felt it, more than the others, you considered Sauron’s offer to bound yourself to him completely but called yourself a fool for such thought. This is not the time you spoke of, you know it, see it as behind a mist, the future of Eregion and all Middle-Earth. Glimpses that always end with fire and blood.

A guard comes into the forge and calls out your name. Your head whips around as you look at him. 

“Your assistance is needed in the healer's quarters.” he informs you. 

“What of the Warden?” you ask, surely the master of healers would accommodate to the unexpected guests who arrived through the gate, should one of them be injured.

“Busy with other matters.”

You sigh but put away your tools once again. “Very well.” you say and follow the guard. 

You didn’t mind healing others but sometimes the injured or ill irritated you to the point your started to regret you were acknowledged as a healer in the first place. People came to you with the smallest cut or barely a cold, a proper herb and warm water would do most of the work.

When you arrive in the healer’s quarters your feet feel stuck to the ground at the sight of the person in front of you. 

“Galadriel?” you couldn’t believe it. “I thought you left for Valinor.” 

She’s clad in armor, her face dirty and sweaty from the journey. If she stayed in Middle-Earth you hoped she only heard the good things you’ve done while in Eregion, you do not wish to have her as an enemy.

“Fate decided I stay here.” she responds. She looks you up and down, the scars visible from your days under Morgoth, however no black fingertips. The darkness hasn’t consumed you or so she thinks. “I’ve heard of your progress here.” 

You feign flattery. “Yes, I owe it to Lord Celebrimbor.” 

“It’s impressive how much you swayed from darkness, not many can.” 

You chuckle slightly, oh if she only knew. 

“Yes, well, my punishment here proved to bear fruits.” you respond and you remind yourself why you’re here. You look her over. “Are you injured? I’ve been summoned as a healer rather than a smith.” 

“My friend is, if you could tend to him.” she starts walking down the hall and when you enter the room you see him, his face so familiar to his but you don’t want to make false assumptions. 

She tells him who he is and you turn to her with a question on your face. “King of the Southlands? How is it your path crossed with his?” you come closer to the man on the table and lift up the bloodied piece of clothing, he grunts as the dried blood tears away with the fabric. When you look to Galadriel her eyes tell you everything you need to know. Her task in Middle-Earth was not yet complete. 

You inspect the wound and Halbrand watches you carefully, you dare not to speak. Is it him? After all this time? Should you voice your thoughts? The questions plague your mind. 

“I’ll leave you to it.” she says as Elrond comes closer, you’ve conversed with him while he remained in Eregion and helped Celebrimbor in securing the work force to assemble the Great Forge. He’s been travelling constantly between Eregion and Khazad-dûm, the High King deceived him of his purpose here at first but the alliance between Dwarves and Elves grew. 

When they are out of your sight you look to Halbrand. An interesting name he has chosen, so many meanings, every single one fitting his image. Admirable, shadowed, exalted. You nearly laugh under your breath.

“Is my state that amusing to you?” he asks and the corner of your lips rises. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” you’re still unsure if you can speak freely in front of him, he may just be a face that he saw once, that felt suitable for him to wear when appearing in your visions. You tear the fabric that laid on his wound, you discard it and grab a cloth with warm water. “What has happened?”

“Enemy lance, six days ago.” he responds and grunts as the cloth makes contact with the wound. You wonder if he truly sustained the hit or it was another illusion. You were certain the red blood was.

“Is it truly like they say? Turned to dust and ashes?” you ask, curious as ever.

“The Southlands?” you nod. He watches as you tend to him, grabbing a bit of Elvish herbs, athelas and mixing them in a mortar. The paste thickens with each turn and you put it aside to grab other herbs needed. After a while, he gives you the answer. “Yes.”

You grab an herb and bring it up to his mouth. “Chew on it.” you tell him.

“What is it?” he eyes it warily before taking it. 

“It will replace the taste of iron from the blood in your mouth.” you don’t answer his question directly but he listens. As you smear the paste you mixed up he smiles under his nose, the sight doesn’t go unnoticed by you. 

“Most people would be in pain and yet you react as if it’s a common cold.”

You’ve seen people wither in anguish from a single touch of Elvish medicine before it took its desired effect, it’s strange for a common man to not react to it. Perhaps he wants to show that he’s stronger than many. You go to the table to gather a clean dressing when you hear his response, so silent but makes you freeze in your steps. “Now I’m the first to give myself to you at my deathbed.” 

Was it him or your persistent shadow speaking? Could you distinguish the two now? The voice so familiar but not muffled like many times you’ve heard it, this was real, raw.

You turn to him but his sight is already set upon you. Any evidence of pain gone from his face as you step closer to the bed with a bandage in your hands. You search his face for any sign of falsehood and he awaits your reaction. You smack the piece of cloth you were holding onto him when he grabs your wrist and pulls you closer. You lock eyes but yours slip down to his lips, he notices and smirks. It feels as if he’s drawing down to him, if he did you could just…

“Violence goes against what you should stand for.” he taunts and lets you go. You glare at him, you told yourself you would rip him to shreds the next time you see him. 

“I should let you bleed out.” you retort, he looks down and gathers some of the red blood from the wound.

“So it’s a convincing illusion, I take it?” he smears it on his fingers and it turns pitch black. You huff in annoyance. 

“You’re insufferable.” you clean your hands in the basin, leftover herbs floating in the water as you dry your hands. You hear him shift on the bed.

“Are you not glad?” he begins to get up and stalk closer to you. 

When you turn he’s met with your brows raised and laugh on your lips. “Glad? I believed you to be dead.” you deadpan.

“Did you mourn?” he asks.

“Would you care?” you bite back.

It takes a moment before he responds, his voice soft. “Yes.” he stands right in front of you and takes your hand. The illusion you cast is perfect, leaving not a speck of dark that would have peeked from it. He inspects it, so much power that could come from them. “Don’t hide it.”

Your anger starts to disappear as he holds your hand. You never thought that you would see the day where he’s in the same room as you, in the flesh and not a black mass. “Defeats the point if I don’t.” you look up at him with question. “Why Eregion?”

“You’ve gained his trust, I intend to use it.”

“For what?”

He smiles. “Everlasting peace over all Middle Earth.”

You pull away from his touch. 

“Under your rule.”

His answer comes quickly with no hesitation as if his mind is already set upon it.

“And yours.” you’re confused. He bound you to him, not completely but alas, you did not expect that answer. He looks to the entrance, listening if anyone comes by before looking down at you. ”Our paths are already intertwined, tangled whether you wish to cut them. I do not intend to let your talents go to waste after I’m done.”

His words compel you, a malicious intent behind them and yet you fall for them like the stars from the sky. 

“A power over flesh?”

He nods. “I owe it to you, this idea, this scheme.” 

You don’t have the time to respond when you hear someone walking down the halls, as the master of the healers enters, you step away from Halbrand or rather Sauron to you. 

“Your Majesty, you should be resting.” he says as he sees him standing next to you, the blood on his fingers red.

“I needed to test my strength.” he lies swiftly and goes back to the bed. The Warden nods at you and tells you that he will take over. You bid Halbrand goodbye and glance at him one last time before leaving. 

Not a day passes when you hear him talking with Celebrimbor. The workshop was quiet in the morning and you needed to gather your notes. The High King ordered every Elf to be moved to Lindon, one last gathering before your time passes.

You did not expect for Sauron to take actions so quickly but it does not surprise you. 

“Might there not be some alloy to amplify the qualities of your ore?” he asks Celebrimbor as he hands him the piece of mithril.

“Well, that is… an intriguing suggestion.” you remark as you enter. You nod in greeting towards both of them and walk closer. Halbrand takes his eyes off of you. 

“Call it… a gift.” Celebrimbor inspect the mithril in his hand before you stride to your work bench. Notes scattered, splashes of ink spilled on the table. 

“You should be packing for Lindon.” he tells you and you gather whatever you can, some of the ink making it’s way onto your hand. 

“I needed to grab my notes, shame to let them go to waste.”

Would any Men take them after you have passed to the Undying Lands? Would they appreciate them?

“You’re leaving?” Halbrand asks you, surprise in his voice. 

You look between the two men. “High King’s orders, as much as I would like to stay. I have no choice but to obey.”

It pains you to say it, a witch following orders of a King, but the ruse must hold. Celebrimbor’s mind seems to be at work, Halbrand’s words resonating with him. It is then he remembers that you may not know who he is. 

“This is Lord Halbrand, King of—”

“The Southlands, yes we’ve met.” you interrupt. “Galadriel sent for a healer at hand and I was the only one available at the time.” you look to Halbrand. “You should be resting.”

“No use if I’m bedridden when your people need aid.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You wish to help?”

“If you allow me.” he directs these words to Celebrimbor and he smiles as he looks between you two.

“I believe we can work something out.” 

The three of you part your ways when he caughts up with you. The halls are empty, occasional guard posted but nothing more, the vines flow down the vast architecture surrounding you.

“I never realized you’ve made quite a name for yourself here.” he expressed as he started walking next to you. You nod occasionally at the guards as you pass through, some other smiths you work with. 

When out of their sight you speak. “It was demanded.” you stop in your tracks, both of you now standing on the parapet connecting two buildings. “Would you let an Elven Witch roam around your kingdom so freely? Her darkness poisoning the very air you’re breathing?” your voice low should anyone listen to your conversation. He studies you closely, eyes softening in his low-man form.

“You, yes. Another I might consider throwing over the walls.” he remembers why he joined you. He has an occasion to properly talk to you, no visions to hold him back now. He goes back to his first statement. “People talk.”

You look down at the few Elves roaming in the courtyard, Fëanor’s statue illuminated by the soft light of the morning. “And what have they said of me?”

He leans against the balustrade. “An Elf once cast out by her people, called Morgoth’s servant despite doing it to survive and when fled chained once again by her own kind. Fulfilled her punishment here in Eregion and started to move away from darkness within her, became a trusted Elven smith and a healer where her work only blossomed.” he looks down to the ring on your finger, worn out by time however you never corrected it, the broken stone still held. He says it like reading a passage from a book, you don’t turn to look at him. Your voice barely above a whisper.

“They trust you so easily.” you’re almost jealous and he knows. 

“They have not come to know me like they did you.” he reassures you. Once they do they will cower in fear.

You turn to face him, you sense the scheme within him. “You plan to use mithril. For what kind of weapon?”

“Not a weapon, it shouldn’t be too obvious. Something far more precious.” he looks down at you and smiles. “You’ll see, I believe it will be to your liking.”

“You think that Celebrimbor will let you into his workshop, a low-man?”

“Why wouldn’t he? I suppose I left a good impression.”

“Ah, of course.” you shake your head and smile under your nose.

The silence weighs between the two of you, some guards pass you by and the morning sky shines mercilessly. You start walking away from the parapet and into the streets, the small crowds surround you as you go by the merchant stalls, tall towers and small courts. 

“It’s refreshing. Seeing you here, feeling your presence, it’s… stronger.”

“Few hundred years had made their mark.” you respond and stop by a fountain, the water hums in your ears. 

“So did I.”

You look up at him and try not to roll your eyes. You admit he gave you tremendous help but the years you’ve spent in Eregion fell upon your shoulders. You knew you had to endure your stay a little longer, for his sake and yours. 

“Thank you.” you find yourself whispering. He knows you well enough to give you a small nod in exchange.

“Do not think that I will release you of the practice over your craft.”

You smile, this is what you needed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

[weclassygirl]

scheme

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: reader meets her shadow in the flesh as two riders enter Eregion

warnings: some blood (fake wound)

word count: 2,8k

author’s note: he's finally here! might take a moment before i update (i need to rewatch season 2 for him), but the next chapter.... ugh i can't wait to post it. enjoy! (previous part -> deception)

He doesn’t, for weeks he doesn’t reach out, does not even give you a sign he’s alive. You wish you could rip him to shreds once you see him again even if his very essence would slip through your fingers.

Celebrimbor notices you’ve become distracted, your work becomes sloppy, where once was attention to details and strive for perfection now lay curses under your breath when another piece of work is ruined. 

He comes to your side and places a hand on your shoulder. “Rest.” 

You turn to face him, the hammer still in your hand as well as the chisel. “I have to finish—“ he places your tools down, you don’t protest.

“You’ve been working yourself to the bone and your mind is not where it’s supposed to be.” you sigh, he’s right even he does not know the true reason. You take off your apron and put it on the stool before leaving the forge. 

You wander to the gardens and around Eregion trying to clear your head. You try to see past the trees, behind the horizon, maybe he’s out there. Wishful thinking. 

You’ve heard of the attacks on the Southlands, men fighting against orcs and the destruction it placed over the land. They call it under a different name now. Out of the corner of your eye you see horses, a rider clad in armor and a man. A messenger, probably. Eregion always had news to answer and these days it seemed more than ever. 

You come back to the forge after a while despite Celebrimbor’s refusal. You needed to occupy your mind, the blade you’ve been working on was nearly finished. You’ve been mixing metals to try and combine them into a nearly ethereal glow, mithril was far out of your reach. You’ve helped with the construction of the tower, not like the might of the Dwarves but your work has been appreciated. 

Elrond came before spring to help Celebrimbor and he secured it when Prince Durin sent his for forces to Eregion. The secrecy has been languid, you knew what Celebrimbor was hiding, he knew of mithril, knew that the very light of the Elves was fading, yours included. You felt it, more than the others, you considered Sauron’s offer to bound yourself to him completely but called yourself a fool for such thought. This is not the time you spoke of, you know it, see it as behind a mist, the future of Eregion and all Middle-Earth. Glimpses that always end with fire and blood.

A guard comes into the forge and calls out your name. Your head whips around as you look at him. 

“Your assistance is needed in the healer's quarters.” he informs you. 

“What of the Warden?” you ask, surely the master of healers would accommodate to the unexpected guests who arrived through the gate, should one of them be injured.

“Busy with other matters.”

You sigh but put away your tools once again. “Very well.” you say and follow the guard. 

You didn’t mind healing others but sometimes the injured or ill irritated you to the point your started to regret you were acknowledged as a healer in the first place. People came to you with the smallest cut or barely a cold, a proper herb and warm water would do most of the work.

When you arrive in the healer’s quarters your feet feel stuck to the ground at the sight of the person in front of you. 

“Galadriel?” you couldn’t believe it. “I thought you left for Valinor.” 

She’s clad in armor, her face dirty and sweaty from the journey. If she stayed in Middle-Earth you hoped she only heard the good things you’ve done while in Eregion, you do not wish to have her as an enemy.

“Fate decided I stay here.” she responds. She looks you up and down, the scars visible from your days under Morgoth, however no black fingertips. The darkness hasn’t consumed you or so she thinks. “I’ve heard of your progress here.” 

You feign flattery. “Yes, I owe it to Lord Celebrimbor.” 

“It’s impressive how much you swayed from darkness, not many can.” 

You chuckle slightly, oh if she only knew. 

“Yes, well, my punishment here proved to bear fruits.” you respond and you remind yourself why you’re here. You look her over. “Are you injured? I’ve been summoned as a healer rather than a smith.” 

“My friend is, if you could tend to him.” she starts walking down the hall and when you enter the room you see him, his face so familiar to his but you don’t want to make false assumptions. 

She tells him who he is and you turn to her with a question on your face. “King of the Southlands? How is it your path crossed with his?” you come closer to the man on the table and lift up the bloodied piece of clothing, he grunts as the dried blood tears away with the fabric. When you look to Galadriel her eyes tell you everything you need to know. Her task in Middle-Earth was not yet complete. 

You inspect the wound and Halbrand watches you carefully, you dare not to speak. Is it him? After all this time? Should you voice your thoughts? The questions plague your mind. 

“I’ll leave you to it.” she says as Elrond comes closer, you’ve conversed with him while he remained in Eregion and helped Celebrimbor in securing the work force to assemble the Great Forge. He’s been travelling constantly between Eregion and Khazad-dûm, the High King deceived him of his purpose here at first but the alliance between Dwarves and Elves grew. 

When they are out of your sight you look to Halbrand. An interesting name he has chosen, so many meanings, every single one fitting his image. Admirable, shadowed, exalted. You nearly laugh under your breath.

“Is my state that amusing to you?” he asks and the corner of your lips rises. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” you’re still unsure if you can speak freely in front of him, he may just be a face that he saw once, that felt suitable for him to wear when appearing in your visions. You tear the fabric that laid on his wound, you discard it and grab a cloth with warm water. “What has happened?”

“Enemy lance, six days ago.” he responds and grunts as the cloth makes contact with the wound. You wonder if he truly sustained the hit or it was another illusion. You were certain the red blood was.

“Is it truly like they say? Turned to dust and ashes?” you ask, curious as ever.

“The Southlands?” you nod. He watches as you tend to him, grabbing a bit of Elvish herbs, athelas and mixing them in a mortar. The paste thickens with each turn and you put it aside to grab other herbs needed. After a while, he gives you the answer. “Yes.”

You grab an herb and bring it up to his mouth. “Chew on it.” you tell him.

“What is it?” he eyes it warily before taking it. 

“It will replace the taste of iron from the blood in your mouth.” you don’t answer his question directly but he listens. As you smear the paste you mixed up he smiles under his nose, the sight doesn’t go unnoticed by you. 

“Most people would be in pain and yet you react as if it’s a common cold.”

You’ve seen people wither in anguish from a single touch of Elvish medicine before it took its desired effect, it’s strange for a common man to not react to it. Perhaps he wants to show that he’s stronger than many. You go to the table to gather a clean dressing when you hear his response, so silent but makes you freeze in your steps. “Now I’m the first to give myself to you at my deathbed.” 

Was it him or your persistent shadow speaking? Could you distinguish the two now? The voice so familiar but not muffled like many times you’ve heard it, this was real, raw.

You turn to him but his sight is already set upon you. Any evidence of pain gone from his face as you step closer to the bed with a bandage in your hands. You search his face for any sign of falsehood and he awaits your reaction. You smack the piece of cloth you were holding onto him when he grabs your wrist and pulls you closer. You lock eyes but yours slip down to his lips, he notices and smirks. It feels as if he’s drawing down to him, if he did you could just…

“Violence goes against what you should stand for.” he taunts and lets you go. You glare at him, you told yourself you would rip him to shreds the next time you see him. 

“I should let you bleed out.” you retort, he looks down and gathers some of the red blood from the wound.

“So it’s a convincing illusion, I take it?” he smears it on his fingers and it turns pitch black. You huff in annoyance. 

“You’re insufferable.” you clean your hands in the basin, leftover herbs floating in the water as you dry your hands. You hear him shift on the bed.

“Are you not glad?” he begins to get up and stalk closer to you. 

When you turn he’s met with your brows raised and laugh on your lips. “Glad? I believed you to be dead.” you deadpan.

“Did you mourn?” he asks.

“Would you care?” you bite back.

It takes a moment before he responds, his voice soft. “Yes.” he stands right in front of you and takes your hand. The illusion you cast is perfect, leaving not a speck of dark that would have peeked from it. He inspects it, so much power that could come from them. “Don’t hide it.”

Your anger starts to disappear as he holds your hand. You never thought that you would see the day where he’s in the same room as you, in the flesh and not a black mass. “Defeats the point if I don’t.” you look up at him with question. “Why Eregion?”

“You’ve gained his trust, I intend to use it.”

“For what?”

He smiles. “Everlasting peace over all Middle Earth.”

You pull away from his touch. 

“Under your rule.”

His answer comes quickly with no hesitation as if his mind is already set upon it.

“And yours.” you’re confused. He bound you to him, not completely but alas, you did not expect that answer. He looks to the entrance, listening if anyone comes by before looking down at you. ”Our paths are already intertwined, tangled whether you wish to cut them. I do not intend to let your talents go to waste after I’m done.”

His words compel you, a malicious intent behind them and yet you fall for them like the stars from the sky. 

“A power over flesh?”

He nods. “I owe it to you, this idea, this scheme.” 

You don’t have the time to respond when you hear someone walking down the halls, as the master of the healers enters, you step away from Halbrand or rather Sauron to you. 

“Your Majesty, you should be resting.” he says as he sees him standing next to you, the blood on his fingers red.

“I needed to test my strength.” he lies swiftly and goes back to the bed. The Warden nods at you and tells you that he will take over. You bid Halbrand goodbye and glance at him one last time before leaving. 

Not a day passes when you hear him talking with Celebrimbor. The workshop was quiet in the morning and you needed to gather your notes. The High King ordered every Elf to be moved to Lindon, one last gathering before your time passes.

You did not expect for Sauron to take actions so quickly but it does not surprise you. 

“Might there not be some alloy to amplify the qualities of your ore?” he asks Celebrimbor as he hands him the piece of mithril.

“Well, that is… an intriguing suggestion.” you remark as you enter. You nod in greeting towards both of them and walk closer. Halbrand takes his eyes off of you. 

“Call it… a gift.” Celebrimbor inspect the mithril in his hand before you stride to your work bench. Notes scattered, splashes of ink spilled on the table. 

“You should be packing for Lindon.” he tells you and you gather whatever you can, some of the ink making it’s way onto your hand. 

“I needed to grab my notes, shame to let them go to waste.”

Would any Men take them after you have passed to the Undying Lands? Would they appreciate them?

“You’re leaving?” Halbrand asks you, surprise in his voice. 

You look between the two men. “High King’s orders, as much as I would like to stay. I have no choice but to obey.”

It pains you to say it, a witch following orders of a King, but the ruse must hold. Celebrimbor’s mind seems to be at work, Halbrand’s words resonating with him. It is then he remembers that you may not know who he is. 

“This is Lord Halbrand, King of—”

“The Southlands, yes we’ve met.” you interrupt. “Galadriel sent for a healer at hand and I was the only one available at the time.” you look to Halbrand. “You should be resting.”

“No use if I’m bedridden when your people need aid.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You wish to help?”

“If you allow me.” he directs these words to Celebrimbor and he smiles as he looks between you two.

“I believe we can work something out.” 

The three of you part your ways when he caughts up with you. The halls are empty, occasional guard posted but nothing more, the vines flow down the vast architecture surrounding you.

“I never realized you’ve made quite a name for yourself here.” he expressed as he started walking next to you. You nod occasionally at the guards as you pass through, some other smiths you work with. 

When out of their sight you speak. “It was demanded.” you stop in your tracks, both of you now standing on the parapet connecting two buildings. “Would you let an Elven Witch roam around your kingdom so freely? Her darkness poisoning the very air you’re breathing?” your voice low should anyone listen to your conversation. He studies you closely, eyes softening in his low-man form.

“You, yes. Another I might consider throwing over the walls.” he remembers why he joined you. He has an occasion to properly talk to you, no visions to hold him back now. He goes back to his first statement. “People talk.”

You look down at the few Elves roaming in the courtyard, Fëanor’s statue illuminated by the soft light of the morning. “And what have they said of me?”

He leans against the balustrade. “An Elf once cast out by her people, called Morgoth’s servant despite doing it to survive and when fled chained once again by her own kind. Fulfilled her punishment here in Eregion and started to move away from darkness within her, became a trusted Elven smith and a healer where her work only blossomed.” he looks down to the ring on your finger, worn out by time however you never corrected it, the broken stone still held. He says it like reading a passage from a book, you don’t turn to look at him. Your voice barely above a whisper.

“They trust you so easily.” you’re almost jealous and he knows. 

“They have not come to know me like they did you.” he reassures you. Once they do they will cower in fear.

You turn to face him, you sense the scheme within him. “You plan to use mithril. For what kind of weapon?”

“Not a weapon, it shouldn’t be too obvious. Something far more precious.” he looks down at you and smiles. “You’ll see, I believe it will be to your liking.”

“You think that Celebrimbor will let you into his workshop, a low-man?”

“Why wouldn’t he? I suppose I left a good impression.”

“Ah, of course.” you shake your head and smile under your nose.

The silence weighs between the two of you, some guards pass you by and the morning sky shines mercilessly. You start walking away from the parapet and into the streets, the small crowds surround you as you go by the merchant stalls, tall towers and small courts. 

“It’s refreshing. Seeing you here, feeling your presence, it’s… stronger.”

“Few hundred years had made their mark.” you respond and stop by a fountain, the water hums in your ears. 

“So did I.”

You look up at him and try not to roll your eyes. You admit he gave you tremendous help but the years you’ve spent in Eregion fell upon your shoulders. You knew you had to endure your stay a little longer, for his sake and yours. 

“Thank you.” you find yourself whispering. He knows you well enough to give you a small nod in exchange.

“Do not think that I will release you of the practice over your craft.”

You smile, this is what you needed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

next part -> bewitched

[weclassygirl]

Sauron burning through Middle Earth in the Second Age, inspired by medieval millefleur tapestries and Tolkien's watercolor painting of Sauron

[weclassygirl]

*Every fic is written with fem!reader*

Sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) - ongoing series

bound - Reader is captured from the comfort of her home to serve the Dark Lord, Morgoth. his loyal servant lures her further into darkness.

visions - The high king makes his judgement, a new path opens.

deception - Years pass in Eregion and reader learns how much connected she is with Sauron.

scheme - Reader meets her shadow in the flesh as two riders enter Eregion

✨ bewitched - Years of tension and yearning come crashing down

wonders - Creation of the Rings is quite demanding, Lord of Gifts is here to ensure their completion

Adar x reader { to be added }

[weclassygirl]

*Every fic is written with fem!reader*

you’ll be fine {neil x reader} - Reader gets shot by andrei and neil tries to go in reverse to keep you alive.

midnight conversations {neil x reader}

feel it  01 / 02 / 03 / 04  {neil x reader, miniseries, FINISHED} - Reader gets recruted by Neil

Moodboards: The Protagonist / Neil / Ives / Red and Blue

[weclassygirl]

*Every fic is written with fem!reader*

Dulce Periculum

Pairing: santino d’antonio x f!reader

Warnings: slowburn, angst, fluff, violence, mafia

Summary: reader gets transported into the John Wick Universe. She lands in the scene where Santino is supposed to die. She’s there to prevent that.

"I knew they would hunt us. Consequences."

01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 [ discontinued ]

Pinterest Board

Moodboards: Jade / Santino / Lorraine / Elijah / Andre / Luca / Spirto / Sonya / Caterina / Ben

Step & Ava (OC's, Step from Children of Ares by the-darklings)

hack my soul  {coa!step x oc!ava} - Step actually had help in finding V when she got taken in Tokyo…

the first meeting {coa!step x oc!ava} - “Bonding experience then.”

nightmares {coa!step x oc!ava} - “Wake up.”

what if... {coa!step x oc!ava} - An alternate universe where these two hackers are happy with each other

Pinterest Board

The Elder

habibi {the elder x the vipress; reincarnation!au}

no words needed {the elder x the vipress/reader}

they know it’s not possible  01 / 02  {the elder x reader} - The young Elder comes into a new town, he connects with a woman there, somewhat of an origin story.

[weclassygirl]

A collection of fics for certain characters I've written for. Enjoy!

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE

John Wick Universe

Tenet

Tolkien - currently writing for sauron x reader

[weclassygirl]

deception

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: years pass in Eregion and reader learns how much connected she is with Sauron

warnings: some blood, but none really

word count: 2,2k

author’s note: finally the fun begins. also keep in mind this is a story that spans over hundred of years. enjoy! (previous part -> visions)

It was no secret why you pursued the dark arts in the first place. A forgotten book in your father’s library when you were a child. A child. Who in their right mind would let someone so young to read upon the cursed texts? But what happened could not be undone.

You learned in secret, became obsessive at times, your family believed you to study, to one day become a respected diplomat for the realm. How disappointed they were to hear what you have done from the mouths of others.

Cast out and alone you made your new life. You never saw them again and yet you knew them to be long gone.

It became your solace, powerful and unpredictable but you preferred it that way. You had your days when you tried to leave it behind, stop this pursuit but it always lingered, drew you even more back in.

You look up from under the tree and up into the sky, your hand picks at the skin on your palm unconsciously.

The faint scar on your finger makes you wonder what his intention was. He drew blood that day in the cell and you never questioned, never thought that there may be an intention behind it.

The man you saw in the garden looked nothing like the Sauron you knew, but you heard he could take whatever form he liked.

He survived then. That beam of light was his doing, the pain you felt was his work, but how? You trace the scar and head to the library.

It’s been some time since that day in the forge, the High King has been informed and you’ve been confined to the forge, cleaning rather than creating. Celebrimbor saw with time how quickly the blackened fingertips faded with each good deed and requested for your freedom to be expanded.

There were some Elves who deemed it uncertain of what your time would be like if you started to dwell into Eregion‘s tomes and scrolls. Celebrimbor assured them that it would be supervised. And so you took out every piece of parchment you could find, book and a passage to ensure he did not do it.

You spend a whole evening in the library when you come across it. A short mention but nevertheless clear as day. He planned it, he smiled when you healed the small cut and there was this gnawing feeling within you when he did so.

The black blood looked indistinguishable from the one over your darkened fingertips.

You rush out of the library and the guards barely catch up with you, but let you be as they see you heading to your bed chamber. You lock the door and lean against it, your breathing heavy. Your feet carry you to the bathroom and you rub at your fingertips where the small scar is left, you move so harshly that you draw blood.

It drips down and you stare in horror, black mixed with red.

He bound you… to him.

You’ve heard of rituals involving exchanging blood but for this one you hope he did not speak the vow that sealed it.

“It suits you.” you turn startled to see him standing before you. A shadow this time, almost human like, not the man you saw before.

“Get out of my head.” you snap and storm out of the bathroom, he follows you and leans against the doorframe. You hope there’s no guards outside if they were to hear whatever you would say to a ghost in your mind.

“I told you we’re bound.” his voice is distorted, like a spell cast over it.

You scoff at his words and speak through clenched teeth. “To path to darkness, not to each other.”

“Not yet.” he moves closer.

You step back until your back hits the wall, he’s not truly there but his presence alone makes you move according to his rhythm. “You cannot think I would willingly give myself to you.” it’s a twisted thought and you tip on the axis of whether you want it to come true or not.

“With time, perhaps.”

Your eyes go ever wider. “You’re insane.”

He leans above you and you avoid his gaze as his phantom breath lands next to your ear. “One day, you’ll need me just as I’ll need you.” when he pulls back he looks at you with such adoration. If he were truly here, people would mistake you for lovers.

He’s right though, you will need him. Who wouldn’t want the help of a feared sorcerer? The one person who can show you the craft you so longed to learn.

A knock comes at the door and you tear your gaze from him, he vanishes in your mind and you run your hand down your face. Persistent shadow.

You open the door to a guard. “Lord Celebrimbor wishes to see you.”

You give him a short nod. “I’ll come by the workshop later.” you start to close the door but his spear stops you from doing so.

“He wishes to see you now.” you sigh but follow his lead.

When you walk down to the forge a distinct conversation dies down as you enter. You see Celebrimbor standing with… the High King. You march closer to them, the forge is quiet, the fire crackling in the pit.

“High King.” you give him a nod. It’s been a few hundred years since he sent you to Eregion, you wonder if he comes to judge your progress or to put an end to it.

“Lord Celebrimbor has informed me of your growth in your punishment.” he starts, though his voice sounds as if the words were poison on his tongue. You knew he never took liking to you and you never hid your disdain. His next words make you rethink that perhaps he had a heart after all. “We’ve decided to free you of your confines.”

You stare agape. “What?”

Celebrimbor steps closer. “Your hands are clean, have been for many years now. I believe this could be a start of something new.” he says as he takes your hands in his and cuts the metal around your wrists.

You feel as if a weight has been lifted from your soul, like you can finally breathe. You pinch yourself, this could be another dream, another illusion from Sauron but you feel the sting on your arm.

Gil-Galad comes closer. “This does not mean that you will be less watched. The moment you dip back into your old craft, the archers will kill you without hesitation.” a threat and you see the honesty in it.

“Of course.” you respond. The High King bids goodbye to Celebrimbor and you don’t know whether to feel elated or frightened. You’re free, no more chains to hold you down, after so many years. You look down at your hand and hesitate to conjure up the smallest speckle of light. Celebrimbor notices it.

“Go on.” he encourages you. “I must admit, I’ve never seen a wizard, much less a witch to create something without using a staff.”

You gather the courage and bring up a small mist of light, scattered across your palm. You laugh and your eyes fill with tears.

“Freeing, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” you whisper. You form an orb of light and almost caress it. You close the palm of your hand and the light that illuminated your face fades out in the wind. You feel a presence in the back of your mind but pay it no mind, you turn to Celebrimbor. “Shall we continue with our work?”

He smiles. “We shall.”

Time passes as you become a well-respected Elvensmith of Eregion and in those years you learn to create a perfect illusion of the effects from using dark magic. It didn’t take you long to be pulled back into it, a scroll here and there, you took many notes, crafted your own spells for your needs. Celebrimbor never suspected. Gil-Galad never knew.

And your shadow remained and with time you started to tolerate his presence but still refused to bind yourself completely to him.

You used him as much as he used you. You were his eyes in Eregion whether you liked it or not, you could not avoid it. He was a cunning sorcerer, that much you knew from your time under Morgoth’s and yet you never realized how inventive he could become. You’ve learned more from him than in all your years of studying the craft.

“Focus.” he tells you as you try to form your own illusion over your body. Your bed chamber is quiet, no guards posted outside, the balcony slightly opened to let the fresh air of the night. You pin your attention to your hands, the dark fingertips motionless in the air as they glide over your other hand.

After a moment your hand once youthful and smooth turns wrinkled with speckles of old age. “Good. You listened for once.”

“Believe it or not but your instructions sometimes prove useful.”

“Sometimes?”

You tilt your head at him. “Don’t mock.” your hand returns to its former beauty, the effects of dark magic visible in the comfort of your own chambers.

“You could leave Eregion. The High King has pardoned you, Celebrimbor believes you pose no threat. Why haven’t you?” he asks.

You could, but you needed to stay, you knew he would come here in the future.

“I can bide my time here a bit longer.” you admit. You did not wish to part from Eregion yet, you waited until Greenwood had all but forgotten your name before you could return to the calmness of your cottage. It may take years but you could wait, time was at your side.

You stand up from your spot on the bed and close the journal that lay beside you. You go over to your desk and hide it from any prying eyes. Your spells, your creation, your precious.

“Tread carefully.” he says and you turn to face him. He stands right next to you and you could almost feel his breath on your face. “They may have fallen under your deception but sooner or later you’ll slip.”

You lift your hand, the scar barely visible on your finger. “Then I’ll need you more than ever.” he looks down to your finger and gently takes your hand. Even through the illusion, the shadow you can feel the dulled touch.

“And you claimed you’ll never give yourself willingly.” he teases and raises your hand. You tilt your hand and move your hand further to place it where his cheek would have been. For a moment you think he’ll melt into your touch, a Dark Lord at your mercy. You grab his jaw forcefully and bring it down to you, even as an illusion he complied with whatever you wanted to do with him.

His gaze is unyielding and he smirks. “I won’t. At my deathbed I might, but not before.”

“I can arrange that.” you let go of him and his hand goes over his stubble. “In time, you will beg me to.”

He disappears once again leaving you alone in your chambers. This man… you grunt in annoyance and close the door to the balcony. Your sight lands on the desk, you’ve grown quite irritated at his constant disappearances. You lock the door to your chambers and sit up on the bed, your journal lays before you once more with hopes of mastering the spell once and for all.

You concentrate and lay back on the bed, you close your eyes trying to pin point where he is. You hear the water surrounding him before you see him. He lays there or so you think, below the deck, his eyes open as he senses you. The old man sees him looking around, not aware of your presence.

“Nightmares again? What haunts you so?” the old man asks. It’s then he notices you, you never sought him out that was his task but there in the shadows you stood just like he has before.

“I’ve done evil.” he says while looking at you.

The old man leans closer. “All of us have done things that we care not to admit.”

“Not like I have.” the silence weighs, you dare not to respond. The old man lectures him about choosing good, you scoff. You could never imagine him being in the light, every good act he’s done has been for his own gain. You understand, you’ve done the same.

You come closer and kneel before him. He watches you and when you try to speak to him the words caught up in your throat. He smiles for a moment, such a fleeting expression. You may have learned how to reach him but conveying a message would take time.

His eyes grow wide when he feels the beast beneath the deck and he aims for your head as if to push you down to the side. You disappear from his sight as the water crashes through the boards.

You gasp as you sit up on the bed and your hand flies to your head. You curse under your breath and try to get back to him but you’ve reached your limit.

You’ll have to wait until he reaches out again.

next part -> scheme