#james delaney tom hardy

[potter-solomons]

I feel like feeding us.

[lyralu91]

I have a use for you.

Just a bit of James before bedtime 😌🤤

[alfiestreacle]

you have no idea how badly i wanna be in a James + Alfie sandwich ‼️

The roughness..

Imagine taking both of them..

[justrainandcoffee]

Sinners (James Delaney x fem!oc) II

Masterlist - Part I

Summary: Agnes and James finally see each other after all those years apart. || Agnes can't leave her thoughts about Zilpha behind her and plan something to see her. || James starts to think that the truth behind Inés' new identity is bigger than he believed at the beginning.

Warnings: Manipulation. || Catholic themes.||

Words: 2.2k.

1813

“In nómine Patris et Fílī et Spíritus Sancti…”

Two days of fasting was what Agnes did after she saw James Delaney. Just water and praying. God listened to her in the past and she was sure he was willing to do it again. Her soul, after all, belonged to him.

It was well known that some nuns and priests whipped themselves because it was a way to clean the soul through the pain, but she didn't do that. Not this time.

She looked through the window and watched the city. It was raining, it was humid and it was also cold.

How she could forget that face? His face was the one to blame for all the things that happened. Him but also her own stupidity.

.

"What do you know about Inés Serra?"

Brace saw the younger man scrutinizing the rooms. Whatever happened to him in Africa, the man in front of him wasn't the boy he knew. Physically he was there, his eyes were there looking at everything but James' mind wasn't.

"I don't know, never heard of her again. Last time I knew something was when her father died at least a year and a half after you left. Yours, wanted to give her a place in this house but the girl rejected the offer. She was so young to be alone. Maybe she died."

"No, no, she didn't. She's a nun."

Brace nodded "probably that was the best choice. Young women almost always end in the streets as whores, she did a right choice."

James just hummed. "Did she stay here after I left?"

"No. Both of you left almost at the same time, maybe "just months of difference. That man, Serra, became an alcoholic after the girl left. A good man but his last years alive, he was violent. Your father didn't have the heart to kick him out of his company, not after the years of service, but he should have. One day, a boy found him dead in his bed."

"You didn't see her?"

"No. Your father told me she was in the funeral and then left after refusing his offer to stay here."

"Mmh."

"I always thought that girl was in love with you. You were almost the same age and she was always looking for you."

"Yes, she was and it was good that she left in time. I need to go, Brace, see you later."

.

Ten years passed since he left the country and in many aspects everything was the same, but in many others, not. When he left England he was a boy, barely a man. He didn't understand the world the same way he did it now and that caused him to make mistakes. And Inés Serra was one of those mistakes. He asked himself if he could do that again knowing the damage he caused. Probably not, but that didn't mean he couldn't be willing to try.

She, for sure, was pretty. He liked the colour of her skin eternally kissed by the sun and her brown eyes that in summer days seemed to be the same colour as the honey. Inés was pretty, that was a fact that he as a young boy couldn't deny. The problem was that his feelings towards her weren't strong enough to be considered love. Love was another thing. It was a feeling that only one person received from him in his life. Forbidden as it was.

His white horse was waiting for him and he mounted on him to return to St. Bartholomew's hospital. If the circumstances had been different, then he couldn't waste his time on her, and could have left the young woman alone. But he did need to talk to her.

"I'm looking for Inés Serra," he said to one of the nuns outside the hospital. "She's a sister like you. I want to thank her for taking care if my old mother," James lied.

"There's no sister named Inés Serra here, sir. But if she's new maybe I don't know her, ask the Sister over there. Her name is Agnes, she has been working here for almost a decade. She knew almost everyone here."

The nun pointed at Agnes herself who was looking at him. That moment she was helping a little kid but left him with another one and turned around to go to the small church there.

She saw him.

James thanked the old woman and walked after Inés. Or Agnes. Why did she changed her name?

The church was silent except for the sound of the raindrops knocking on the stained glass windows. The smell of candles was mixed with the humidity outside and Agnes felt the vitiated air in her lungs.

In her mind.

She began to pray again. God needed to listen to her.

“In nómine Patris et Fílī et Spíritus Sancti…”

But he wasn't to listen to her prayers. Maybe because he was busy, maybe because she didn't deserve to be listened to.

Heavy footsteps broke the silence inside the sacred place and she knew who the person was.

Agnes saw a shadow behind her and the sound of coins falling in the moneybox the church had.

"I thought you were dead," she spoke looking at the dark tiles. The first words in ten years she said to him.

"I am, Inés."

"Inés is also dead."

"That's what I imagined."

"It seems this is a meeting for the dead, then."

"What better place to reunite two souls than a church?" James took off his hat and put it besides him. "Long time, sister Agnes."

"What do you want, James?"

"I'm looking for forgiveness."

"Father John will be here at five. He can pray for your soul."

"No, I don't want that kind of forgiveness and you know what I'm talking about."

"Then forgiveness is what you have, James. Long time ago, right? Everything is forgotten."

"Is that so?" James could sense some anger in her voice. Resentful, maybe.

"I'm a woman of God. I learnt to forgive."

James nodded. "Okay, then. Everything is forgotten."

The smell of candles in the church, was now the smell of fish and rum behind that cantina. The sound of the raindrops was now the mumbling of the people passing by while they were fucking there. Agnes shook her head.

"I heard your father died. I'm sorry. I have nothing but gratitude words for him because he helped my father, my brother and me when we had nothing. I hope his soul can find peace in Heaven."

"My father isn't in Heaven. He wasn't the man you think he was, Agnes."

Neither of us is destined to be in Heaven, thought Agnes but remained quiet.

"He was the cause my mother died. But I'm trying to fix the things."

"You can't bring back dead people."

"You're wrong. Not bring them back in a way that you and I are alive, but you can. They talk to you if you know how."

"That's against God's rules."

"So is lying, Agnes. And you're fucking lying to me," James put his hat on again. She lifted her head to look at him. "You can find me in my old house. I have an use for you." He stood up and walked towards the door but before he can leave he heard her once more.

"Are you still seeing your damn sister?"

"Are you sure everything is forgotten, Agnes?" he asked crossing the door.

He was still seeing her and Agnes had no doubt about it. It wasn't Delaney Sr. who should have died but his daughter. Agnes could stop her own thoughts but didn't regret it either. Sinners should die.

.

The good thing about being a nun was that usually people was willing to help them. They were one of the closest things they had to be next to God and most of nuns had a gentle soul. Why, then, anyone could distrust one of God's most loved servants? Agnes knew that and took advantage of it. And when she asked for information that was what she got.

Zilpha Delaney lived in a beautiful house and wore the surname Geary now.

Slim and mysterious as ever that was what Agnes thought when she finally saw her crossing the enter of her house. She was still wearing black, probably mourning the death of her father. Next to her was a tall gentleman, no doubts that was Mr. Geary.

Zilpha Delaney was even lucky to get a husband, a nice house and now she also had her brother back and still in love with her. All those feelings that Agnes believed were behind her reappeared, but now the one carrying them was an adult woman and not a naïve young girl.

She walked towards the Geary manor when he was sure enough that the couple was already settled inside and then knocked on the door.

A young maid, opened the door and greeted her with a smile that Agnes correspond.

"I'm looking for donations for poor children," she said. "Is the man of the house here?"

"Mr. Geary just arrived, Sister. But I don't know if he's interested in this. But please, come in, and I'll call him."

"You're really nice, darling. God bless you."

The inside of the house as pretty as Agnes believed. Only one of those paintings or sculptures could feed a whole school for years, she thought.

Mr. Geary didn't make her wait for that long and before she could realise, the man was standing before her. He didn't seem to be a smart one, probably inherited his money from his own father and his marriage helped him to built the rest.

Yet, he was exactly who she wanted to see.

"Thanks for wasting your time in our cause, sir."

"We don't make donations to charity. You understand that if we help one, we need to help all."

"They're just kids. Orphans. I want to believe that good people still exist."

"My father-in-law just passed away," he said "we're not in conditions to waste our money in bastards, with all respect."

Fucking asshole.

"It's okay. I'm sorry for wasting your time, sir. Are you married? I'd like to add your name and your wife's name to my prayers, maybe god can illuminate your hearts."

Just say it, she thought. And Geary replied exactly how she wanted to.

"Zilpha." Agnes repeated "That's an uncommon name. Zilpha Delaney? I heard of her when I was little. Same as her brother, James. I know he died long ago, I'm sorry, she lost everything she loved in her life."

"James Delaney is alive," Geary said and couldn't hide his hatred.

"Really? Are you sure? In that case, I'll pray for him too. Thanks for your time, Mr. Geary."

But the man stopped her. "What do you know about James Delaney?"

"Very few things. I had a friend who lived in a house that not longer exist next to the Delaney's one. All I know is because of her. And she's dead now, so…"

"What did she tell you?"

"Mr. Geary. In this world exist something worse that greed. Things that are better to keep it in the dark."

"Like what? Murder?"

"Murder is not a secret for humanity, Mr. Geary. It's also unforgivable but very frequent. Others…" Agnes looked down. "Better don't ask. May God help the soul of your wife, Mr. Geary, because I can't. Goodbye."

Agnes' heart was racing when she left the house. If she managed to implant a doubt in Geary's head, then for now it was enough.

Those thoughts that caused the death of Inés and her ulterior reborn as Agnes, invaded her soul and this time there wasn't any salvation.

Agnes didn't care. Envy wasn't a strong word to describe her feelings towards Zilpha. She hated her and was determined to destroy her perfect world forever.

.

James wasn't sleeping, he never really slept. But he was thinking in bed. 10 years. Math was a perfect science.

But inside him, he knew it. That kid, Robert… he wasn't product of his father and a whore. His father couldn't care less if a whore got pregnant of his bastard. But Horace Delaney could care if his reputation was in trouble.

Robert was James' son. And the only two girls he fucked were his sister and Inés.

Why, why did Inés change her identity? Girls all the time ended with a broken heart but not because of that they hide from the world and pretend to be a new person. They didn't kill themselves figuratively speaking.

And why his father offered her a place in the Delaney's house after her father died? He had no obligation. She was no one but the daughter of his friend.

Unless she was also the mother of his grandson.

[hecatemoon87]

Tom Hardy Characters: Needing to Wear Glasses Part I

Tom's characters' reactions to having to wear glasses.

James Delaney

James grunts with displeasure as he squints at the small print on the worn parchment. “What the bloody hell does that say?” He growls, thrusting it your way. You roll your eyes and push it back towards him. “Go put on your glasses.” “No, I don't need them.” He would never say it, but he didn't like the thought of part of his body weakening. So, you had to be clever in getting him to wear them. You saunter over to him, resting both hands on his strong chest. “You know, I think you look rather distinguished when you wear them,” you say, nibbling on your bottom lip and slowly circling an index finger over the cloth of his vest. James arches an eyebrow, “Hmm,” he mutters and removes the glasses from his pocket. He places them on the bridge of his nose and brings up the document to read. But you push his hand down. “You can read that later, Mr. Delaney. Right now, I need your presence in our bedroom.” A smirk draws across his face as he begins to remove his glasses. “No, no, leave those on,” you wink as you guide him up the stairs.

Eddie Brock

“How do they look?” Eddie said, taking out his new pair of glasses. He gingerly placed them on his nose. You at first giggle because he looks so adorable. But then it settles upon you that he looks down right sexy. Of course, he is without the glasses, but something about them made him…serious. And Eddie was anything but serious. “Eddie…” you say, taking your straw and stirring your drink. He was reading the menu, hence the glasses and looks up. “Yeah?” “How do you feel about role playing?” “Uh, like RPG on console or more like D&D?” You laugh, shaking your head. “No, you nerd. I mean, sexually. Like you wear those glasses and some khakis and nice shirt, play the professor and I play innocent college girl?” Eddie's eyes widened and shook his head vigorously. “Yep, yeah, sounds…hot. I didn't know these would be a chick magnet,” he said, taking the glasses off and looking at them.

[super-lupus]

I promise it was an accident

[ravenclawboyy]

— Shadows in the Sanctuary ഒ ｡ﾟ🕯️

—

- ✧ In the heart of a gray and desolate town, where the fog clung to the cobblestones like a reluctant memory, there stood a dilapidated church. The townsfolk whispered of its dark history but seldom ventured inside. It was a place where secrets seemed to linger, and the echoes of forgotten prayers filled the air On a particularly dreary Sunday, the congregation shuffled into the church, weary souls seeking solace in the dim light. Among them was a young girl , her innocence in stark contrast to the shadows that danced across the walls. With her long, flowing hair and wide, curious eyes, she looked as if she had stepped out of a storybook that had long been abandoned. James Delaney, a man who had wrapped himself in mystery and darkness, watched her from the shadows. With a past steeped in doubt and a reputation cloaked in fear, he had come to this forsaken town searching for something elusive—a sense of belonging, perhaps, or the thrill of power he had once tasted. That day, he donned the guise of a priest, an intricate facade built upon layers of deception. Draped in a tattered black robe, he approached the altar with a confidence that belied the turmoil within. He spoke words of redemption, his voice smooth and intoxicating. The congregation never noticed the glint of something sinister behind his dark eyes, nor the way he lingered a moment too long on A/N face.

After the service, when the townsfolk filtered out into the dreary street, A/N remained inside, drawn to the flickering candles that cast playful shadows. James seized the moment. He approached her with a soft smile, the kind that could easily be mistaken for warmth but felt more like an alluring invitation to a world she couldn’t yet comprehend. “Child, do you seek the light?” he asked, his voice low and persuasive, drawing her into an embrace of false safety.“I do,” she replied, her innocence shining through the shadows that loomed within the church. “I want to help people find hope.”

“Then perhaps you’d like to join me in a special prayer,” he suggested, the corners of his mouth curling into a devilish grin. “In this dark town, we must hold onto our faith, even when the shadows threaten to consume us.” A/N nodded, entranced by his charisma. She followed him deeper into the church, her heart racing not with fear but with naivety—an innocent curiosity that stirred within her soul. In the secretive recesses of the church, the true nature of their encounter was revealed; the sanctuary became a stage set for a dance between redemption and ruination.As he led her through murmurs of ancient chants that twisted the very essence of faith, she felt an odd thrill. Each word he spoke resonated within her, awakening something she didn’t understand. Yet, she remained blissfully ignorant of the darkness lurking just beneath the surface of his teachings.

“Worship is a form of surrender, my dear,” he whispered, his voice dripping with temptation. “And in surrendering, we can find freedom from the burdens of this world. Will you worship with me?” A/N felt her heart bloom with an odd mixture of warmth and trepidation. In that moment, as the flicker of candlelight danced around them, she believed she had found a kind of salvation, unaware of the perilous path upon which she was treading—a path that led deeper into the shadows where James Delaney thrived. As weeks passed, their secret meetings continued, the lines between worship and manipulation blurring as darkness seeped further into A/N once-innocent heart. James reveled in the power he held over her, each whispered promise stewing inside him—a devil disguised as a savior.

But in a town cloaked in gray, where the remnants of hope flickered like those fragile candles, the balance between innocence and evil was a precarious one. Little did they know that their destinies were entwined in an eternal struggle between light and dark, and that even the most innocent souls could harbor shadows of their own. In the sanctuary of twisted devotion, the question lingered—would A/N realize the truth before darkness consumed her? Or would she surrender to the charming facade of the devil, lost forever in his embrace?

As the weeks stretched into months,A/N once-gleaming spirit began to subtly tarnish. The flickering candlelight that had once brought her comfort now cast long, distorted shadows that danced ominously on the church walls, taunting her as if to remind her of the veil of deceit that surrounded her. James, ever the puppeteer, continued to weave his web of influence, ensnaring the young girl with teachings that felt profound yet sinister. He handed her sacred texts, each page imbued with his twisted interpretations. Through his eloquent tongue, he reshaped her understanding of faith, replacing innocence with a thirst for power cloaked in righteousness. "True salvation lies not in blind faith, but in the will to embrace darkness and bend it to your desires," he instructed one evening, his voice imbued with an intoxicating fervor. A/N listened, captivated as she hung on his every word, believing she was being granted secret knowledge meant for only the worthy. Yet, deep within her, a flicker of doubt began to grow—a tiny ember that threatened to ignite into a rebellion against the darkness that ensnared her. She often found herself staring into the cold depths of the church's stained glass, the images of saints and sinners juxtaposed, their faces reflecting the battle within her. She would think of her parents, of the joyful nights spent under starlit skies before the town succumbed to despair, and wonder if her path had truly veered so far from the light. One evening, it was a wintry chill that brushed against her skin as she entered the church’s hollow silence. The candle flames flickered faintly against the oppressive gloom that had come to settle within her heart. In the corner of the sanctuary, she glimpsed the figure of a woman—ghostly pale, with eyes like storm clouds—who appeared to be weeping. “Help me,” the specter whispered, her voice echoing with a sorrow that chilled A/N to the bone. “You must help us all.” A/N's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the woman’s features—the likeness of a long-forgotten townsfolk, rumored to have been a victim of James’ dark machinations. The stories whispered on the cobbled streets floated back to her, tales of misplaced trust and broken souls ensnared by the priest’s charisma. “What do you mean?” A/N asked, stepping tentatively toward the apparition, her heart pounding as apprehension coursed through her veins. “Who are you?”“I am but a remnant, a warning,” the woman replied, sorrow sinking into her words. “James is no savior; he is the harbinger of despair. You must break free from his clutches before the darkness claims you like it did me.”

But James emerged from the shadows just then, his presence oppressive and cold, a dark cloud that blocked the light of understanding. He grabbed A/N's wrist gently, yet possessively, and pulled her back into the fold of his embrace. “Do not listen to phantoms, my dear. They are mere tricksters, trying to draw you away from true enlightenment. The world is full of shadows, and only by embracing them can we transform them into our strength.” A/N’s heart raced as she turned to him, adrenaline coursing through her. The war within her waged on. Should she trust this man, this supposed savior, or heed the warning of the woman who knew the price of deception? In the days that followed, A/N wrestled with shadows and whispers that danced in her mind like restless spirits. With each secret encounter, she began to unravel the truth—James’ true powers seemed to derive from their bond, yet that power came at a cost. The more she surrendered to him, the more pieces of her own soul she lost.

She begun to seek out the townspeople, cautiously gathering snippets of their stories, shrouded memories buried under layers of fear. A/N discovered the dark legacy that had birthed that dilapidated church: tales of those who had disappeared, lives intertwined with tragedy beneath James’ predatory gaze. One night, as a storm brewed outside, A/N made her decision. She confronted James amidst the flickering shadows, the rumble of thunder the only witness to their confrontation. “You’re not a priest. You’re a thief, stealing lives and hope.” James’ eyes narrowed, a flash of anger igniting within him. “You dare speak to me in such a manner? I gave you a glimpse into a power greater than you can comprehend. You were meant to be part of something greater!”

“I don’t want your darkness,” A/N declared, her voice shaking but firm. “I want my life back—the light, the laughter, the love!” As storms raged outside, A/N sought to sever the ties of manipulation that had entangled her heart. In that moment of rebellion, she summoned all the courage she possessed, forcing the specters of doubt and intimidation into submission.The ground trembled beneath them as energy crackled forth; she reached for the remnants of her childhood innocence woven deep within her soul. Would it be enough to wrest control from the hold of a devil masquerading as a savior? As the confrontation reached its apex, a blinding white light erupted from her heart—a beacon of hope. James stumbled back, his darkness clashing violently with the strength of her newfound resolve. The congregation’s whispers of faith, once mere echoes, surged to life, amplifying her spirit. In that pivotal moment, A/N recognized that within her lay the capacity for both light and dark, and she wielded the power to choose her fate. With one final surge, she cast forth the whispers of the weeping woman, the tribe of forsaken souls, and the hope of the townsfolk into the depths of despair that James had created. And as the storm continued to rage outside, illuminating the night sky with flashes of brilliance, the church that once resonated with shadows trembled beneath the weight of her defiance, the old walls beginning to crack away, revealing a path toward redemption and healing.

In that gray, desolate town, a new dawn was breaking. A/N's journey was just beginning, but she stepped forward into the light, confronting her past while casting aside the allure of darkness, determined to reshape the world she had once believed to be lost forever. The struggle between innocence and evil had now sparked a fire of renewal—a flicker of hope transforming the shadows into a luminous beginning.

tags : @zablife / @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler / @xxanaduwrites / @tickettride / @justrainandcoffee / @raincoffeeandfandoms / @hecatemoon87 / @stvolanis / @lustnhim

[potter-solomons]

Spit in my mouth.

[lyralu91]

Writing smut = I NEED this man.

[alfiestreacle]

just thinking about going full Nelson with Bane..

nah, maybe Alfie Solomons.

wait no, Eddie Brock..

never mind, James Delaney!

or Johnny Davis.

fuck it, all of Tom's characters

[justrainandcoffee]

Sinners (James Delaney x fem!oc) I

Summary: Sister Agnes Hill wasn't always who she claimed to be. There was a time when she was Inés Serra, a Spanish girl that went to London with her father and brother when the patriarch lost everything he had. It was there that she also met James Delaney. "Stay away from him" her father warned her. And she should have listened to the man.

Series warnings: Everything that Taboo is, including incest. || Religious theme. || Dark themes, like murder. || My oc is a nun. || Unrequited love, for now at least. || Angst. || Not fluff at all in this series.

Words: 2.8k.

Author's note: The name Inés Serra is the Spanish version of Agnes Hill. They mean the same. All my ocs are named after flowers and there's one called "st Agnes" || I wrote some dialogues in Spanish but their translation is next every line.

1795-1803.

Inés Serra arrived at London with her father Fernando and Felipe, her eldest brother from the coast of Cantabria, Spain. Specifically, the city of Santander after the patriarch lost absolutely everything making business with a Portuguese man who stole from him. But it was legal and Fernando Serra couldn't do anything about it. He put his signature not knowing the consequences of it.

Fernando Serra was a traveller merchant sailing through the seas where he met Horace Delaney. It couldn't be said that both men became friends, but they had a mutual respect for the other and a relationship based on trust. Something that it wasn't usual those days. Not in times of constant wars, at least. Both men, collected several enemies but the other weren't one of them. Widower and without places to go, Fernando sold his last possessions and bought three tickets to England, hoping that Horace Delaney could help him. Maybe his children could have a future in the Capital city. Perhaps his daughter could marry a rich man, even that could help. But Inés was still a little girl and was only 8 years old. Felipe Serra, his son, probably could work for Delaney trade company as well, he was 13 years old was old enough to work.

Horace Delaney received them and same as Fernando. Their respective children were more or less the same age. Delaney was weird man, but Fernando couldn't complain about it. He never asked him anything and Fernando didn't bother him at all, except for the times that they talked about job. Felipe, few years older than James, preferred to work at his father's side instead of focusing on his studies. On the other hand, Inés was admitted in a school for girls.

For the next seven years, Inés studied in London where she learnt the local language along with Latin and French as it was usual. She learnt history and art. They taught her how to sew and to paint. And they taught her to respect the King and God like they were the same person.

But when Inés was 14 years old tragedy knocked on the Serra's door. Working on the docks, Felipe cut his hand with an old knife. It didn't seem to be that serious at first. It bleed but they put bandages on his hand and the young boy could keep working. But few days later he got fever and couldn't move from his bed. In less than two weeks, a terrible infection affected his whole body and Felipe, only 19 years old, died a summer night. His body was buried in the cemetery in a funeral that only his father, sister and Mr. Delaney assisted.

Inés left school a year later to stay with his father that never seemed to recover from his Felipe's death.

It was there that she started to pay attention to Delaney's son.

James was a young boy that never seemed to talk too much, but he was well educated and courteous. As far as Inés knew, he was always polite to her and her father. It wasn't until Inés started to live with Fernando that she really got to know James. The past years, he was just the firstborn of her father's boss: the heir of their fortune.

And there was also Zilpha, his half sister. Inés loved her poor brother, he was a good boy and always protected her but the relationship between the Delaney siblings, in her eyes, was totally devotion the one with the other. Zilpha was the same age as her but they studied in totally different places. Her social status allowed her to go to a better school so Inés didn't know her at all. And to be honest, the Delaney girl didn't seem to be interested in being friends with her at all.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" Inés said once to James when she found him in the city. She started to work as governess for a rich family not long after she left school. She was still young but her education was enough to do an acceptable work teaching and taking care of those kids.

"It is, Ms. Serra," he said, smiling.

Inés confirmed that moment, that she was falling in love with James the instant his blue eyes met hers. Even when he was an impossible dream. The few last weeks, she had spent her free hours looking at him through the distance.

"Aléjate de James Delaney," her father said once he caught her looking at him. "Su madre murió en un asilo. Rumores dicen que alucinaba y era un peligro para los demás y ella misma. Y Horace no está cuerdo del todo tampoco. Si ambos padres están enfermos, sus hijos también". (Stay away from James Delaney. His mother ended in an asylum. Rumours says that she was hallucinating and was a danger to the rest and herself. And Horace isn't completely sane. If both parents are insane, so are their children.)"

Inés nodded.

"Vas a encontrar un buen hombre algun día." (One day you'll find a good man)

And yet despite the warnings, Inés couldn't stop looking at him.

Inés probably could never forget the day that everything changed. It was an afternoon that seemed to be night because a heavy thunderstorm. She was returning home after work when she saw them even when at first she thought it was her imagination, but it wasn't. There, under a tree and believing there were no one, James and his sister were kissing. They were kissing in ways that the church and also society forbade.

Maybe she was young, just 15, but she was old enough to know that everything about that absolutely wrong. The closeness between the siblings was darker than she, innocently thought at first. Inés ran inside her bedroom and thanked the rain that disguised her tears.

Her father was right: the Delaneys were sick.

Inés, that usually found an excuse to talk to James now started to avoid him completely and that didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Are you going to work?" he asked days later. "I have my horse, if you want to."

"I'm fine. Thanks, I prefer to walk this morning."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Mr. Delaney I've to go."

James looked at her, walking fast and disappearing from his view as soon as she turned the corner.

Inés thought about telling her father what she saw, but she was afraid of the consequences that the revelation could cause inside the family and Fernando Serra still depended on Delaney generosity to keep working. So she said nothing, but the girl started to resent Zilpha. Her money, her education, her last dress and her relationship with James. World wasn't fair and it wasn't Zilpha's fault that she couldn't afford those dresses or the professors she had, but the envy started to grow inside her like a cancer. But it was especially because of James. Maybe it wasn't Zilpha's fault that she was poorer, but it was that she had James' attention. Because it was wrong, it was forbidden and Inés was sure both siblings knew that. In top of all the things Ms. Delaney had and Inés didn't, the other girl also had the love of the only person that Inés felt she could give her heart.

.

Maybe his sister didn't notice anything because Zilpha never really paid attention to Inés, but James did notice the way the teenage girl who used to greeted him every time they saw each other, suddenly didn't do it anymore. And it was clear now that she was avoiding him. If James' suspicious were right, then it was better to him to talk to her. His life, after all, was going downhill no matter what. His insubordination against the East Indian Company could cost him his head and his love for his sister already condemned him to hell, and he was barely 16 years old.

He wrote a letter to her asking Inés to find him at the port. There were always people there and none were going to pay attention to two young friends talking.

The wisest thing to do was not going there. It'd have been clever if she'd have listened to the voice in her head, but she didn't. First, because she was just 15 years old and then, because she was madly in love with the boy who sent her the letter asking her to meet him.

James saw her coming, she was wearing a blue dress and a hat with a veil covering part of her face. James was sure that boys did pay attention to her because she was pretty and her Spanish accent help her to be more captivating. Sadly, for him, the only thing he noticed looking at her was that she wasn't Zilpha.

"Am I late? I couldn't leave in time the house where I work because one of the kids is sick. Poor boy, but I guess he'll be fine soon."

"No, you're just in time, don't worry."

"I'm glad then. What do you want? Your letter said it was urgent, but you didn't say anything else."

"Mmh. Yes. Inés, I know that you know. I know you saw us- my sister and I. I don't know exactly what did you see, but I know you're avoiding me because of that."

Inés stared at him for a moment before looking down, playing with her gloves.

"Under the tree. A thunderstorm months ago, you and her were kissing."

James sighed. Yes, he remembered now. It was Zilpha's idea and he accepted because he didn't know how to say no to her.

"Inés-"

"No. Don't. I know enough to know that it's bad and I don't want to be involved in that. I don't want explanations… Mierda- fuck." Inés felt her eyes filling with tears and hated herself. "Te amo," she finally said to him.

She shouldn't have said that, but if she didn't say it, the envy, the hate she felt towards Zilpha it was going to be the end of her. Tomorrow morning she was going to ask her father to send her to Ireland, or maybe back to Spain to start a new life far away from James and his sister because the only thing that Inés was getting of all that was corrupting her heart.

"You don't love me," James said. "Give your love to a good man, because you're a good woman, Inés. I don't deserve it."

"Don't tell me what do I deserve or what I don't. And I do love you, so bad I love you. My father is waiting for me, James. I have to make dinner for him."

She hated her weakness in that moment. She hated her voice trembling and her tears running down her face.

The boy that James was back then, wasn't the cold man that he was destined to be and even when probably he was just motivated by pity and a bit of compassion, he kissed her. Inés felt his hand first on her waist and then him bringing her closer to him. She let him guide her. Inés felt she was dreaming, because she dreamt about it but even there it wasn't that good as it was now. Her hands were caressing the back of his neck, as James pushed even closer to him.

She loved him, so it happened that she offered him her virginity when the kisses weren't enough and James took it. It was behind a cantina, while she was sitting on a barrel. Probably, Inés thought, Zilpha was even privileged enough to be in his bed and never where they were now. Not where probably people passing by, and ignoring them, just believe she was a cheap whore. Another one of the dozens that were there.

At least he didn't hurt her and it was as gentle as he could. She hid her head on his neck when both of them climaxed. They kissed again, slower this time.

"Te amo," she repeated. But he didn't answer back, just tucked her hair behind her ear.

James pulled up his pants and helped her to get off the barrel.

"Goodbye, James." Tears were burning her eyes, but the girl didn't gave him the chance to do nor say anything because ran away from there.

Her father wasn't there when she arrived to the house and Inés was grateful for that. She cook something for him and left a note saying she didn't feel good and didn't want to eat.

Alone in her bedroom, the girl hugged a pillow to muffling her sobs, while she remember what happened.

She couldn't bear to see him next to his sister. Or watching her clinging to him, while she whispered something to him. Inés couldn't bear the idea of them pretending to be siblings during the day when they were lovers during night.

James sought her the following days but not avail. He wanted to apologize but didn't know how. Even when he didn't force her to do anything, the barrel, the cantina felt so bad to him. She was a good person, she didn't deserve what he did.

But destiny was ready to play its cards and the apologies should wait ten years, if the man he was about to be was still willing to apologize to her.

Ten years later: 1813.

Inés Serra was dead as her brother was and also her father. Fernando Serra died seven years ago probably because his liver failed after drinking just rum for over a decade. But Inés died two years before him and in her place was now Agnes Hill.

Sister Agnes, specifically, the one who worked in st. Bartholomew hospital, helping people and near the American man surnamed Dumbarton.

She didn't trust him but the hospital did and she was there just to follow orders. So far, the doctor besides being a weird man who loved chemicals never bothered her or the other sisters ever. Yet, everything about him didn't like her.

Agnes started her day as always. Her little and modest bedroom faced the streets and the morning workers always woke her up. She prayed before having her breakfast and after cleaning her space, went like always to the hospital.

"Thanks, sister," a man in wheelchair said to her, after she helped him to sit there and wheeled him outside to enjoy the sun.

Agnes heard the voice of sister Clarice, telling a man "just follow the smell." She saw his back and hat but not his face. She didn't care, probably another one looking for Dumbarton.

Agnes forgot completely about the unknown man, the American and even Sister Clarice, because she was talking to her patient. He was a funny grandpa always talking about his son and granddaughters and he made her laugh, but it was getting cold and he should return inside.

It was when she was heading to another wing, when Agnes saw the man wearing the top hat and she felt her heart stop. Ten years passed, she knew that. She even could say how many days passed since he left.

James Keziah Delaney is dead. She heard the rumours about his death one time she left the monastery to visit her father. James Delaney died in the sea.

Or he was alive, or he was the devil visiting her.

James' eyes caught a nun staring at him and for a moment he didn't pay attention to her until he looked at her again.

It was her. Clearly older, but it was her.

James turned to walk towards the nun but she wasn't there anymore. James looked around but didn't see her. He was busy, he couldn't stay there for a person who escaped from him once again. Through a peephole of one of the many doors that the hospital had, she saw him walk away.

And Agnes knew that even when Inés was dead, the feelings she believed dead as well, were still there. Burning her like the infernal flames around the Devil.

NEXT

[hecatemoon87]

Tom Hardy

Dynamic

Compassionate

Talented

Unstoppable

[askalfiesolomons]

We only bite when you beg,

come bother us.

[potter-solomons]

He had a difficult night. Fitful sleep. Wicked nightmares. Unwanted visitations.

He awoke with grunt landing heavily face first onto the floor. He'd have happily stayed there in his sweat and misery for the rest of the night were it not for the sweet smell of your leftover bath oils wafting about the floor both of your bedrooms shared.

Suddenly aware of how painfully hard only your smell made him he shoved himself up briskly. Noisily swinging your door open he spotted you.

Hair stuck to your forehead. Sweat soaking through your shift. Almost silent whimpers coming from your perfect mouth.

And then like an animal he smelled you. No longer the remnants of your bath but the intoxicating scent of your arousal.

Fingertips drift over your bare arm and he's catapulted full force into your dreamscape.

He sees it. He experiences it.

It's him holding your hair tight in his fist as he lays overtop you. Dirty nails digging into your scalp spurning you on.

You're singing a melody against his cock.

He's fucking your throat so hard the bed screams.

He groans deeply. It turns into a growl as he speeds towards his release. He feels you praising him, it's emanating from you. It surrounds him like a blanket. How utterly happy you are in this debauched moment.

His vision blurs as he cums. Shaking rope after rope down your throat. Your fingers digging into his ass in an effort not to waste what he's giving you, forcing every last drop from him.

He pulls out with heavy breath only to be transported back to reality. He's once again on top of you but this time his forehead rests against yours.

He can't catch his breath. The dizziness threatens him.

He feels his cum rubbing between you, sticky and hot.

Then your hand comes to the back of his head. He would startle if it weren't for the heaviness of his limbs. With gentle pressure you press his head onto your shoulder but not before you kiss it.

The last thing he hears as his eyelids become weights is your voice beckoning him, "rest now James and then come back to me."

for you @lyralu91 😶‍🌫️

[lyralu91]

Costumes made for "Taboo" (2017) Photos from the FIDM Museum, 11th annual "Art of Television Costume design".

[mlmxreader]

Run Away With Me | James Delaney x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ James Delaney (enby, gn, or male reader)

“Yes, you were deceived, for I did not know how much I loved you.” ❞

: ̗̀➛ James can't leave you alone, and you don't want him to; but maybe there's a way around it after all.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, adultery

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You watched as James crossed the room, his shirt all a scruff and his trousers starting to fray at the bottoms; he looked so pretty when he was just existing, looking out the window with his hands clasped behind his back. You stirred a little, getting comfortable and lying on your side with your hand propping up your head, your elbow dipping into the mattress.

You could watch him for hours, if the truth were to be told, and you had a feeling that he already knew that; he knew you better than anyone, you knew he probably already clocked on a while ago.

He grunted as he tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. In the distance, he could see the person you were intending to marry and had been since his disappearance; he never liked them, he knew that they weren't good for you at all.

But even James couldn't deny that they were certainly good looking, and with their strong family name and their money, he knew that you would be looked after; he did also know, though, that that was not the life you ever wanted. You wanted to get your hands dirty, to have calluses on your skin and rough fingers.

He knew what you were. A member of the lower class, yet content to be a worker as opposed to frolicking and gallivanting with the rich and wealthy. The person you were going to marry would never understand that, and nor would they understand the way you felt pride in it.

"James?"

He slowly turned at the sound of your voice, taking one last look out the window before sitting on the bed by your knees. His hand rested at your lower back so he was slightly leaning across you; his glare was intense, and although it could make anyone else squirm, it only made you smile.

He looked at your lips for a moment, then returned his gaze to yours. "Yes?"

"Don't worry about them," you whispered softly. "It's a marriage of convenience and nothing else... you know my heart was always yours."

James swallowed thickly as he nodded slowly, moving to lean down a little more, turning you onto your back and letting his free hand rest at the base of your throat. "Do not decieve me."

You shook your head, daring to crack a smile as you moved his hand up to rest directly on your throat; you needed him to know that you trusted him, that you trusted he would never hurt you. "I already have, though."

He grunted, furrowing his brows and letting his fingers gently splay out across your throat.

"Yes, you were deceived, for I did not know how much I loved you." You smiled, licking your lips. "And now it's all too clear to me."

James pulled back a little, pulling down the blankets and knocking your legs apart so he could kneel between them; his forearms came crashing down on either side of your head as he leaned in close.

His breath hot and harsh on your features as he did his best to keep himself under control; you put one hand at the back of his head, the other resting on his jaw as you furrowed your brows with curiosity.

"James?" You whispered.

"They could walk in," he grumbled, lowering his head so that his mouth was right next to your ear. "You wouldn't care, would you?"

"I doubt they would either," you admitted with a soft laugh. "I told them from the beginning that I was never theirs, only yours. Always yours."

You heard him swallow, and he slowly moved so that his face was just a few centimetres from your own. Your knee came to rest against his hip as you stared up at him, your hand slipping down until you gently tugged at his shirt. It was easy to see the undone buttons, how they allowed just a slight look at his chest with its titillating v-shape, exposing only a glimpse of the tattoos.

"I'm always yours," you promised him.

James nodded, but could only lunge forward, capturing your lips with his; it was open mouthed, with him swallowing every whimper that came from your throat and eagerly taking every moan that threatened to leave you.

But he grabbed your wrists with both hands, pinning them above your head so that you couldn't touch him. Even when he pulled away, he kept your wrists pinned.

"Mine," he grunted out.

"Always," you agreed. "I love you, James, I always have. I... I never stopped looking for you, either. I never did."

He nodded, looking at your lips for a moment before daring to hum quietly. "Come with me."

"James-"

"Come with me," he quietly demanded. "Leave them."

You shook your head, regret filling your eyes. "I would love to, but if I left... I need the money. My family, we... we've been struggling and-"

"I will look after them," James growled. "And you."

"I couldn't possibly-"

"It isn't a question," he grunted out. "I will carry you out if I have to."

You laughed, your head hitting the pillow harshly as you writhed a little; James waited for you to close your eyes before he smiled. The thought of him throwing you over his shoulder and whisking you away gave you a mental image that you could only find comedic.

"Alright," you agreed eventually, still wheezing and making soft "ooh" sounds as you tried to calm down. "I will come with you. But do not carry me over your shoulder."

He nodded, completely pulling away from you and tugging the bag out from under the bed; with just a look, he told you to stay put as he packed your things. So you did, grinning as you watched him so closely and so carefully.

If there was one thing that you never got tired of, and would always adore, it was watching James; you could watch him for a thousand years.