#james delaney x oc

[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

[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

[ginevrastilinski-ocs]

Glee OCs Masterlist [L-Z]

Name: Leabeth Ayre

Pronouns: she/her

Story: Untitled

LI: Jesse St James; endgame Rachel Berry

Quote: Hate and love be closer cousin than like and dislike.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Halle Bailey

Name: Lexi Bowen

Pronouns: she/her

Story: Seasons Change

LI: Marley Rose

Quote: I was looked at, but I wasn't seen.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Renee Rapp

Name: Lia Sylvester

Pronouns: she/her

Story: Untitled

LI: TBD

Quote: It takes strength to forgive, but I don't feel strong.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Olivia Dejonge

Name: Linda Berry

Pronouns: she/her

Story: Untitled

LI: Jennifer Glynn

Quote: They can't order me to stop dreaming.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Victoria Justice

Name: Luka Fabray

Pronouns: he/him

Story: Untitled

LI: Brittany Pierce

Quote: If it makes you happy it doesn't have to make sense to others.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Austin Abrams

Name: Lula Delaney

Pronouns: she/her

Story: The Band And I

LI: TBD

Quote: All we needed were some good friends and a song to sing along.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Lola Tung

Name: Lyra Wells

Pronouns: she/her

Story: Untitled

LI: Noah Puckerman; Mike Chang; endgame Jesse St. James

Quote: All I know is that I want to be on stage.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Dove Cameron

Name: Mack Pierce

Pronouns: he/him

Story: Untitled

LI: Sam Evans & Blaine Anderson

Quote: I feel small but so are stars from a distance.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Troye Sivan

Name: Manuel Navarez

Pronouns: he/him

Story: Untitled

LI: Sam Evans

Quote: He had those kind eyes that shone with the light of "everything will be ok".

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Taylor Zakhar-Perez

Name: Maya Puckerman

Pronouns: she/her

Story: Untitled

LI: Quinn Fabray; endgame Sam Evans

Quote: They whisper in the hallways, she's a bad, bad girl.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Alexa Demie

Name: Melanie Jay

Pronouns: she/her

Story: Untitled

LI: Rachel Berry & Quinn Fabray

Quote: And I'm so sick of running as fast as I can, wondering if I'd get there quicker if I was man.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Hailee Steinfeld

Name: Melody Wells

Pronouns: she/her

Story: Untitled

LI: Artie Abrams; endgame Santana Lopez & Brittany Pierce

Quote: Let kindness be the language of your heart.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Dove Cameron

Name: Mirabelle Ryder

Pronouns: she/her

Story: Untitled

LI: TBD

Quote: I have spilt more blood and marked more bruises on the cheercourt than I will ever allow your hands to take from my thighs.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Sofia Carson

Name: Nate Simmons

Pronouns: he/him

Story: True Colors

LI: Kurt Hummel & Blaine Anderson

Quote: You deserve the love you keep trying to give everyone else.

Pinterest: X

FC: Froy Gutierrez

Italian Squad: Betta Guidi - Davide Bernardi - Francesco Moretto - Lucia Bernardi

Name: Ramona Solomon

Pronouns: she/her

Story: Untitled

LI: Quinn Fabray

Quote: Women are considered fragile but i've never seen anything as easily wounded as a man's ego.

Pinterest: X

FC: Sarah Jeffery

Name: Ronnie Nell

Pronouns: she/her

Story: The Band And I

LI: Quinn Fabray

Quote: I let my music take me where my heart wants to go.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Maya Hawke

Name: Susan Chaldar

Pronouns: she/her

Story: The Band And I

LI: N/A

Quote: I don't need a boyfriend to feel fulfilled.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Auli'i Cravalho

Name: Tilly Mist

Pronouns: she/her

Story: The Rose Song

LI: Jean St James

Quote: I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Chappell Roan

Name: Waverly Jones

Pronouns: she/her

Story: Untitled

LI: Emmett Dove

Quote: Oh, darling, all of the city lights never shine as bright as you eyes.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Ayo Edebiri

Name: Zeke Wright

Pronouns: he/him

Story: Untitled

LI: TBD

Quote: And this is the part where you find out who you are.

Pinterest: TBD

FC: Ross Lynch

[onbrokenglass]

Hello there!

This blog is mainly for finding roleplays. I roleplay exclusively on Discord (I love making private servers) and am 21+, so minors please DNI. Style-wise I can adapt to my partner, though my favourite way to write is lit for those juicy, introspective moments. NSFW friendly, and I like all sorts of pairs from fxf, mxf, mxm, to any nb pairs. Platonic and found family are fun too!

My messages are always open for people interested in writing with me! I promise I don’t bite, even if some of my muses do.

Under the cut is a list of characters I’ll thread with (who I’d like to play is bolded, if both are bolded I can do either or), though it’s by no means exhaustive. Regardless of how old this post gets, you can message me at any time for those on this list.

.

.

Ships (Canon)

Anakin Skywalker x Obi-Wan Kenobi

Atton Rand x Female Exile

Aviendha x Elayne Trakand

Beatrice x Battler Ushiromiya

Billy Loomis x Stu Macher

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Bruce Wayne x Selina Kyle

Carmy Berzatto x Sydney Adamu

Chloe Frazer x Nadine Ross

Dale Cooper x Harry Truman

Daniel Solace x Maura Franklin

Dick Grayson x Wally West

Dracula x Mina Harker

Elend Venture x Vin

Emma Larsimon x Marianne

Enid Sinclair x Wednesday Addams

Erik Lehnsherr x Charles Xavier

Ethan Winters x Karl Heisenberg

Harley Quinn x Poison Ivy

Harry du Bois x Kim Kitsuragi

James Delaney x Lorna Bow

Joe Goldberg x Forty Quinn

Joe Goldberg x Love Quinn

John Constantine x Bruce Wayne

John Constantine x Lucifer

Jon Kent x Damian Wayne (either aged up or still young, but if they’re young absolutely no NSFW)

Jonas Kahnwald x Martha Nielsen (any iterations)

Kaz Brekker x Inej Ghafa

Kaz Brekker x Jesper Fahey

Kyle Hyde x Brian Bradley

Kevin x Ilonka Pawluk

Laurent of Vere x Damen of Akielos

Leon Kennedy x Ada Wong

Leon Kennedy x Chris Redfield

Marius Josipovic x Julia Bowman

Marius Josipovic x Taylor Bowman

Mat Cauthon x Elayne Trakand

Mat Cauthon x Rand al’Thor

Mat Cauthon x Tuon Paendrag

Matt Murdock x Foggy Nelson

Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

Mike Ross x Harvey Specter

Moon Knight (all/any of them) x Layla El-Faouly

Moon Knight (all/any of them) x Peter Parker (adult Peter only)

Nate Fick x Brad Colbert

Nate Jacobs x  Maddy Perez

Nathan Prescott x Max Caulfield

Percy Jackson x Nico di Angelo

Phoenix Wright x Miles Edgeworth

Rob Ryan x Cassie Maddox (book verse)

Roman Godfrey x Peter Rumancek

Ronald Speirs x Carwood Lipton

Sherlock Holmes x John Watson

Stephen Holder x Sarah Linden

Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Thomas Shelby x Alfie Solomons

Tomas Ortega x Marcus Keane

Tyrell Wellick x Elliot Alderson

Wade Wilson x Peter Parker (adult Peter only)

Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter

Wolfgang Bogdanow x Kala Dandekar

.

.

Ships (OC)

Alcina Dimetrescu x OC (female)

Atticus O’Sullivan x OC (any, supernatural or mythological)

Francis York Morgan x OC (any)

Holden Ford x OC (male, serial killer and/or detective)

John Constantine x OC (any)

Jonathan Reid x OC (any)

Peter Pan x OC (male, lost boy - no NSFW, though would feature dark themes as my Peter is inspired by the book The Child Thief. Would love platonic friends or enemies for this as well.)

Vanessa Ives x OC (any)

.

.

Platonic

Carmy Berzatto & Richie Jerimovich

Dexter Morgan & Harrison Morgan

Five Hargreeves & Any Hargreeves Siblings

Hank Anderson & Connor

Jesse Pinkman & Walter White

Joel Miller & Ellie Williams

Kratos & Atreus

Moon Knight System (any against any)

Norman Bates & Dylan Massett

Peter Pan & Hook

[noladyme]

The Wife - Chapter 7

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. As rumors spread that Mr. James Delaney had returned to England – making a dramatic arrival at his father’s funeral – you might imagine mothers throughout London, rushing to present their marriable daughters to the man. They did not; and for three very good reasons. First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness. Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married.

TW: angst, violence, blood, smut (6351 words)

(You guys, I did it! I finished chapter 7! Yay!)

Rosalind took some time to recover. Every day she would be kept warm in front of the fireplace; and the dog stayed near her, lifting its head and whining every time she shifted in her seat. Whenever she felt the inkling to stand, it would put its head on her lap, to get her to stay in place.

Most nights she would sleep next to James, in his bed in the attic. Sleeping in his arms, while unable to give in to lust due to her injuries, was frustrating beyond belief. More than once, she would let her hands wander towards his groin after they’d settled in for the night; but each time, James would grab her wrists. “You are still healing, Rose”, he’d say, and no matter how much she wanted him, and let him know both verbally and physically, she would always end up disappointed. One time she even straddled him as he sat looking over ledgers at his desk, and refused to get off his lap; whereafter he simply continued his work as she sat there. In the end, James refused to come to bed before she’d fallen asleep; sitting in front of the fireplace in the attic, telling her stories of his travels, until she dozed off. On the nights when James did not come home before she retired, she would go to sleep in her own bed, and wake to him watching her from the chair by the fireplace. Then he would carry her up to the attic, and she’d spend the rest of the night in his bed.

Different men would be stationed in the front yard during the days, while James was not in the house – off on one of his secret ventures, making the last preparations for their travels. There would always be at least two men in the yard, and one posted by the back door to the kitchen. Still, Rosalind only felt truly safe when James was there. She carried the knife he had given her, either up her sleeve, or strapped to her leg. She prayed that she’d never have to use it for anything other than opening her many letters; written by acquaintances inquiring about her health. She knew that gossip was running rampant; especially as some of the letters came from countess Musgrove, and her cohorts. Along with the countess, all of them were upper-class ladies, with not much to quell their boredom, other than sharing both true and untrue stories about people they knew; or at least thought they did.

Winter would visit with her almost every day, arriving with Pearl. She would insist she was there to protect Rosalind; even showing her the knife she would use to “carve out the heart of any man who dared enter the house, without an invitation”. Mostly, Rosalind thought the girl felt safe and happy in the house of the man she seemingly admired and held above anyone else. Also, having regular hot meals and cake was a bonus. Whenever James came home, Winter’s face would light up; and she’d follow him around like a puppy, until she had to go back to Helga with Pearl. James, in turn, would speak softly to the girl, continuously asking if she was treated right by Helga, and telling her to come for him if needed.

“There is goodness in you", Rosalind said one evening, after James had sent the girl away with a shilling in her pocket, for protecting what was his. “There is no darkness without light”, James replied, repeating the words she’d spoken to him, weeks before. Rosalind laid down the embroidery she had been working on, and let James take her hand to help her up, so they could go to the dinner-table. She was perfectly capable of getting up herself, by now; but was glad to accept these small tokens of affection, seeing as James was otherwise either too occupied with business, or worried Rosalind would get hurt if he let himself go with her. “Who told you that?”, she smiled. “A very clever, yet very foolish woman". “She sounds quite intelligent to me. You should marry her”, Rosalind said, and sat down in her chair. James poured her some wine, a slight smile on his lips. “I would, but she’s already married to a brutish, dangerous man”, he said, and placed a soft kiss to her temple, before going to sit down himself.

Atticus had managed to produce a fat salmon for them, and by sneaking in some herbs from the market, Brace had made the fish beyond edible – quite delicious, in fact. Even James slowed down his usual inhalation of his dinner, and seemed to take pleasure in the taste. His good mood taken in consideration, Rosalind thought this was as good a time as any to mention her letters. Before she even had a chance to open her mouth, James spoke. “Yes? What is this thing you’re afraid to tell me?”, he said, meeting her eyes. “How did you…?”, Rosalind began. “You were scrunching your nose. You always do, when you’re about to say something, you think I will disapprove of”. She looked down, and laid her fork gently on the plate. “I’m sorry. You have too much to think about already”, she said quietly.

James put down his own fork, and sighed deeply; his expression strangely hurt. “You said you did not fear me”, he said softly. “I don’t, James”, Rosalind replied. “Then why are you suddenly so meek? Have I made you doubt my affection? My love for you?”. “No…”, Rosalind said. “I only want to do everything you ask of me, so that there are no hindrances to your plans”. “Not knowing what is bothering my wife, will keep me unfocused. That will certainly come in the way of our plans”, James said. He inclined his head towards her, as if trying to dig her thoughts out of her mind. “I want you to have anything and everything you ask for, if it is within my power to get it. And if it is not, I will still find a way. So, what is it? Hmm? Jewelry? Silk for a new gown?”. “James! Do you think so little of me, that I’d want any such frivolous things?”, Rosalind exclaimed. James smiled softly. “No; but suggesting it made you speak to me in a tone I recognize better than the one you had before”, he said. “The one that reminds me that beyond being a fool for your choice of husband, you’re also a willful and headstrong woman”.

Rosalind sat silently for a moment, before deciding to live up to James words. She pulled one of the countess’ letters from her pocket. “I have been receiving inquiries about my health. My acquaintances pretend to worry for me… They’ve been sending invitations to social gatherings, tea-parties and the like”, she said. James’ expression darkened. “And you would like to attend these functions, I take it?”, he said. “Not so much want, as need. We need it”, Rosalind said. She put the letter on the table, and pushed it towards James; who reached out to take it. “Though we no longer have to pretend when it comes to our relationship and affections towards each other, we still need to make all your enemies believe that we plan to stay in London. Me hiding away here will cause suspicion as to that”. “How?”, James asked, glancing through the countess’ writings. “We are gentlepeople. I must take part in society; it is only proper”, Rosalind said. “You asked me to live with you again, be your wife, and keep up appearances. You said you had use for me, and this is what I can do”.

James took a moment, seemingly to think over her words, before getting up from his seat, and walking over to her chair. He went down on one knee, and took her hand. “Always speak your mind. You are warm, kind, patient and good. I need you to be those things for me, because I cannot be them myself. Do not ever think yourself below me, in any matter. I rely on you as an equal. As the part of me I am missing; do you understand?”. Rosalind felt a smile tug at her lips, and she nodded. “I will always listen to your opinions, even when they differ from my own”. “In that case, I will begin visiting again”, Rosalind smiled. James got on his feet, and returned to his seat. “No”, he said shortly. Once seated, he met Rosalind’s frown with a determined gaze. “I understand your worries about propriety; but I will not risk your safety for anything”.

Rosalind fought the urge to groan loudly at her husband; settling for a deep sigh. “James… I cannot stay cooped up in the bloody house! You just said that I am your equal. I should be able to…”. “You are my equal in everything but your ability to stay alive”, James said, his voice nearing a growl. “I will not take any chances, and neither will you”. Rosalind gritted her teeth, and gave James a short nod. “Of course, husband”, she sneered. She pushed away her plate, and got on her feet. “Pardon me. I’ve lost my appetite”.

She all but stormed up the stairs to her room, hearing James snarling foreign curses from the parlor. Closing the door behind her, she went to sit in front of the fireplace; staring in to the embers. After her ordeal in Bedlam, she knew very well of how dangerous her situation was; but at the same time, she wanted to keep doing her part. She felt like an invalid – a pawn pushed off the chessboard – and the thought of not taking charge of her life and future with her husband was frustrating beyond belief. She had been taken, abused and threatened; and for years before that, she’d been robbed of her love, because of rich and evil men’s dealings. Leaving London with James – being by his side as he claimed Nootka Sound – was the revenge she needed; but he would not let her do her part to make that happen. In spite of him claiming that she was his missing half, he once again seemed to have no need for her.

Her nails created crescent shaped marks in her palms, from her clenching her hands in anger; and when she relaxed them, a tingling sort of pain streamed across her skin. James entered the room, and walked up behind her. She knew he was there, not from the sound of his footfall, but rather the lack of it. When he decided to enter a room quietly, it was always as if there was a void of sound, and even the howling from the drafty windows would halt for a few moments, until he announced himself.

“I will not apologize for trying to protect what is mine”, he said, as he went to stand next to her chair. “And I will not apologize for wanting to be a part of claiming what is mine, either”, Rosalind retorted; struggling hard to keep her voice leveled. “Yours?”, James muttered, shooting her a confused look out of the corner of his eye. “My future… Our future”, she said. “I cannot simply let things happen tome, or be done for me. I am a grown woman, who has taken care of herself for years before you came back; with close to no help…”. A hint of shame ghosted James’ face. “You are still angry that I left you”, he said. “No… Well, yes. But I’m not angry with you about that”, Rosalind said. “Then why are you angry with me?”, James asked quietly. She turned to look at him, and his eyes flickered, as if he was afraid to meet hers. “I’m angry with you, because you’re treating me like a belonging to be kept in one of your coffers or safes”, she said. “I am yours, but you are also mine. You need to go to America, and I need to help make that happen”.

James crouched in front of the fireplace, and began poking at the embers with the fire poke. “You have nightmares”, he said. “I saw what they did to you… The darkness, and the pain”. She frowned, and shook her head. “No… I’ve slept perfectly well. No dreams of any kind”. “I’ve fought them off for you”. Straining to remember any dream she might have had in the last couple of weeks, Rosalind frowned deeply. They had all been dull and nonsensical, as if any event that might have occurred in them, had been cut short, or had been kept from happening at all. “You’ve been there…”, she whispered. “Hmm", James nodded. He stood up again, and turned to look down at her; his eyes piercing and serious. “I have spent ten years missing half of myself; but when I got you back, I felt whole once more. I will never let them touch you again; not out here, and not in there…”. He put his index-finger to her forehead. “You hurt; I hurt”.

Taking his hand, she kissed his knuckles; beginning to understand his point of view. James wanted to protect her, that was clear; but her fragile brute of a husband was also protecting himself. “You are kind, my love… But I cannot hide from what happened to me for the rest of my life”, she said. “I have to… feel”. It was difficult to find a better word for her need to process her experience. “You told me to grow strong from my anger… Let me remember why I am angry, and let me have my revenge…”.

James frowned for a moment, before nodding shortly. “I will let you have your dreams”, he said. “But I fear for your sanity”. “I’ve been mad with love, since I met you the first time at that ball”, Rosalind said softly. Taking both her hands, James pulled her up to stand, and ran his thumbs over the marks her nails had left in her palms. “I love you, my Rose”, he breathed. “And I love you”, Rosalind replied. James let a smile ghost his face. “I want you to be safe”. “I understand… But I cannot help but feel set aside”, she muttered. In an uncharacteristically tender movement, James wrapped his arm around Rosalind’s waist, and held her close to him; brushing his lips to her cheek. “I hold you to highly to set you aside, wife”, he said, and pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips. “But I admit I’ve been hiding you away; and maybe for too long. If you feel well enough, we can begin promenading again. But I don’t want you leaving the house without me”. Rosalind sighed, and nodded.

They stood for a moment in silence, before Rosalind spoke again. “I think I need to take to bed". “Are you unwell?”, James asked worriedly. “Just very tired”, she said. He nodded, and made to lead her out of the room. “No, James… I will stay in here tonight… alone". He looked at her warily. “Alone”, he repeated, as if the word was completely foreign. “Why?”. “Because, though I love you and understand your stance on all of this, I am still angry; and need some time to come to my senses”. “And you cannot do that in my bed?”, James asked. “No, I have to do it in my bed, alone… Please, don’t ask me to explain it further”. “Rose, your nightmares…”.

“James, please!”. Rosalind’s tone made clear she was serious. “I have to be able to handle myself. I must do this for me”.

James let out a deep, clearly agitated breath; before nodding shortly. He pressed a possessive kiss to Rosalind’s lips; the kind that made her already weak knees even weaker. It was all she could do, to avoid giving in; and beg for her husband to take her then and there. “Goodnight…”, she breathed. He held her even tighter, and seemed to be fighting some inner battle; before finally stepping back, with only a hand on her arm, to steady her, as she regained her composure.

“Goodnight”, he said, and walked quickly out of the room; leaving Rosalind to collapse on the chair, trying to remember how to breathe.

---

That night, her dreams were dark, and James was nowhere to be found.

Leering smiles from otherwise faceless figures, as strong hands held her down, and pulled at her clothes. Unwelcome fingers travelling up the inside of her thighs, and over her breasts, as she screamed for him. He never came. Someone grabbing her hair, and scissors cutting through it. “You’re mad, miss Beauchamp. He never came back. You imagined it all”. The collar around her neck was tight; strangling her. “He is gone. He has left you. He is never coming back. It wasn’t real”. A black room. The smell of stale piss and sick. Cold and shivering, she cried into the dark. Alone.

Her eyes blinked open, and she could hardly see for tears. Rosalind almost fell out of her bed, and stumbled out of the room; running up the stairs to the attic. James was seated on the floor, dressed in only his shirt. He didn’t look up as she entered, simply opened his arms, as she fell onto the floor in front of him, and buried herself in his embrace. “Say you are here. Say you are really here!”, she sobbed; her tears drenching the fabric on his chest. “I am here”, James breathed into her ear, while running his fingers through her hair.

After some time, Rosalind managed to calm down; by pressing her ear to James’ chest, to focus on his heartbeat. “I couldn’t do it alone. I couldn’t sleep without you…”, she whimpered sadly. “I’m too weak". “No, no", James said. Her tightened his hold on her. “But just like you are what I need; I am what makes you whole and strong as well. We cannot be apart, my love”. “You are here”, Rosalind said quietly. “Hmm", James nodded. “I am here now. And when I go, you will come with me”.

She fell asleep there, on the floor in front of the fireplace, as James cradled her still shaking body.

---

“You seem healthy”, James proclaimed out of the blue, some days later as they were strolling – very slowly – down the street in Wapping. “We will soon be able to leave”. Rosalind looked at him confusedly. “Do you mean to tell me that you have postponed our departure due to my health?”. She could not help but feel guilty at the thought of it. “Hmm”, James nodded. “Had you needed a doctor, we would not have been able to reach one, if we’d left already”. He led her around a pile of horse droppings. “I am sorry”, she muttered. “Don’t be…”, James smiled slightly. “I’ve been able to finish some business without rushing; and it gave me time to arrange for more comfortable travelling”. “How so?”, Rosalind asked, before nodding politely at some acquaintances they passed.

Another smile ghosted James face. “I had walls built in the hull. We will be able to have a private cabin”. He looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh…”, Rosalind said, taking a moment to catch on. “Oh!”. She instantly blushed. “The journey will take a few weeks, and I do not want to spend that much time without being between your legs”, James said. “Your recuperation has been torture”. Rosalind cleared her throat embarrassedly. “I have been more than willing to let you…”, she said quietly. “Willing and able are two very different things. I told you; I do not wish to hurt you, and having my way with you would do that, while you are healing”. “I’m done healing, James”, Rosalind sighed; realizing how her voice sounded almost pleading.

James took her hand, and lifted it to his lips. “Are you asking me to fuck you, Rose?”, he asked hoarsely, and kissed her knuckles. Rosalind drew in a short breath, and the heat spreading throughout her core made it difficult for her to walk properly. “I… I should like…”, she whispered; her cheeks positively burning red. “Say it, Rose… Say what you would like me to do”, James demanded. She swallowed thickly, and stopped in her tracks. A couple taking an afternoon stroll as they were, passed them, and she hid her expression, by turning her head; embarrassed by her wantonness. James raised his brows at her, goading her to reply. “I want to be fucked by my husband”, she whispered. “Hmm”, James smiled, examining her with his eyes. “It will rain soon. Let us go back to the house”. Rosalind looked up. “There isn’t a cloud in the sky…”, she said, and looked at James again, meeting his bemused eyes. “Oh…”, she said in realization. “I suppose the air is becoming a bit heavy with… rain”. James nodded shortly, and sped up; half dragging her with him.

Once back at the house, Rosalind was swiftly transported upstairs to her bedroom. After he’d closed the door, James prowled towards his wife; who stood as if frozen in place. As she made no move towards undressing, he raised a brow at her. “You may remove your hat and jacket yourself. And your boots”, he said; more an order than a statement. Rosalind unbuttoned her jacket, and took it off; letting James put it over a chair. She untied her capote under her chin, and put it on the vanity. Her gloves went down next to it, and she tugged off her boots nudging them away with her toes. “Do you want me to take off…?”, she began, and reached for the buttons on the back of her dress. “No… no, I said that once we were to share this bed, I wanted to undress you myself, and I will”, James replied.

Rosalind felt her heart skip a beat, as her husband stepped up close to her, and glanced over her body. He put his hands on her waist, and gaged any possible pain reaction from Rosalind, due to the damage to her ribs, but she felt none. “Hmm. It’s not your wedding dress, but it will do”, he said. Spinning her around, he unfastened the buttons of her gown, and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “I love you”, he breathed into her hair, and hooked his fingers into the shoulders of the dress, and pulled it down; letting it pool at her feet. Rosalind stepped out of it, and began unfastening the laces of her stay. “No, let me”, James insisted. “Yes…”, Rosalind said with bated breath. With nimble fingers, James pulled the laces through the loops, and soon the stay was on the floor next to the dress. He quickly shed his vest and shirt, before grabbing the skirt of her chemise, and pulling it over her head.

Having her finally naked in front of him, he sat down on the edge of the bed, and looked at her. His fingers ghosted her ribs, and a furrow formed between his brows. “Are you in pain?”, he asked. “No”, she assured him, and took the examining hand; pressing his palm to her lips. James’ breath hitched, and his pupils dilated for a fraction of a second. “You said these last few weeks have been torture…”. “Hmm, I did”, James nodded. “So, you missed me?”, Rosalind smiled. The draft from the window made goosebumps form on her skin, and her nipples hardened. James noticed, and his eyes flickered. Rosalind felt a boldness like she’d never experienced before rise inside her. “Tell me, what did you miss?”.

James reached for her, but she stepped back, and walked slowly towards the small table by the fireplace, where James had left a bottle of port a few nights before. She let her silhouette cast a shadow over the floor; very aware of James observing her every move. “What are you doing, Rose?”, he said. She poured herself a glass, and lifted it to her lips. “I was thirsty”, she smiled. “You didn’t answer my question”. Her husband cleared his throat, and shifted in his seat; seemingly adjusting himself. “Rosalind…”, he said warningly. She took a sip of her drink, and raised a brow at him. “James…”, she replied, and slowly walked back towards him. “Tell me what you missed… What it has been like to be without my touch”. She licked her lips, and James furrowed his brows. “Are you wanting flattery, my love?”, he said. Rosalind shrugged non-committedly, and downed her drink, before walking over to reach for her robe. “If you don’t want to say what it is about me that it is such torture to be without, then…”.

Before she knew what had happened, the robe was torn from her hands, and she was pinned against one of the bedposts, holding up the canopy. James pressed his groin against her, and his eyes burrowed deep into hers. “This… your face when you’re just about to burst from lust”, he almost growled. “This has been my face every night for weeks, my love; wanting you…”, Rosalind breathed, and pressed her palms against James’ chest, to get him to step back. “What else?”. She took his hand, and led him to sit back down on the bed. He swallowed thickly. “Your breasts… how they fit perfectly in my hands”, he said. Rosalind put one of said hands on her right breast, and smiled in pleasure, as he squeezed it. “And…?”. James stroked his fingertips up the outside of her thigh. “Your legs… when they clamp around my hips, as if you want to keep me close to you, and never leave; while I move on top of you… inside you”. He moved his hand between her legs, and one finger stroked over her labia. “And this… Your perfect, warm and wet cunt…”. She felt her cheeks burn, feeling desired and needed.

James pushed two fingers inside her, and Rosalind gasped; throwing her head back. “So… it’s, truly been torture then?”, she whimpered. “Hmm”, James nodded. “I’ve been hard as a rock every night, having to sleep with you pressed against me”. He curled his fingers forwards, and stroked them against the spot inside her that always made her see stars. “Really?”, she squeaked. He let his thumb massage the hardened nub hidden by her curls. “I’ve wanted to fuck you; feel you tighten around me”, he said. “I’ve dreamt of burying my face between your legs and feast on you. I would have gladly given up every meal, if I could only have your taste on my tongue”.

His words reminded Rosalind that she had in fact never tasted James in that manner. The thought was intriguing, and yet her newfound boldness came short, and she felt herself blush. This man had protected her and loved her deeply; and he’d wanted her as much as she had wanted him. Yet, he’d kept himself from acting on his wants, to avoid harming her. She wanted to give him all the pleasure in the world, as a way to thank him. Feeling James’s ministrations of her privates driving her closer and closer to the edge, Rosalind grabbed his wrist, and pulled his hand away from her warmth; leading his fingers to her lips. Taking them into her mouth, she hummed softly as she tasted herself on them. James eyes were wide, and his lips twitched, when she released his fingers with a small pop. “Would you like me to… use my mouth on you?”, she asked timidly. “Hmm. Mouth. Yes”, he said, flushed and with a ragged voice. Letting out a small, nervous breath, Rosalind leaned down, and kissed James deeply; letting her tongue find his, and brushing wantonly against it. He let out a guttural moan when she moved her lips down his neck, and kissed her way across his chest.

Kneeling in front of him, Rosalind began unbuttoning his trousers. He pulled the combs from her hair, and ran his fingers through the tangles, to let it fall down her back. She slipped her hand under the waistband of his trousers, and found him hard and wet at the tip. James lifted his bottom, and let Rosalind pull his trousers and pants all the way off; leaving him as naked as her. She folded her left hand around him, and smiled as the light from a candle caught in the garnet in the ring on her finger. She stroked him a few times, and heard him gasp as she opened her mouth and closed her lips around him. She let the tip of her tongue stroke against the back of his member, and made a swallowing movement. “Have you, uhm… have you done this before?”, James asked. She lifted her head, suddenly embarrassed. “No… Am I doing it wrong?”. “Ahh, no… No, that is just… It is perfectly correct… good”, he croaked.

Rosalind lowered her head, and took him in her mouth again. Moving her head up and down, she relished in the taste of her husband. He was salty and sweet, all at once, and she couldn’t help but let out a moan; which must have felt pleasurable to James, who in turn let out a deep wanton sigh. He took her hand, and placed it on his testicles. “Gently…”, he said. She softly stroked the skin there, before gently squeezing them in her palm. Sucking in her cheeks, she quickened her pace on his hardness, and let out muffled whimpers. If she’d been able to smile, she would have been doing so, ear to ear.

James played with her hair as she went, and soon fisted it; guiding her pace. He pushed her down as far as she could go, before she had to pull back. She raised her eyes to meet his, and saw his strained expression, from trying to hold back his climax. Sucking even harder, James suddenly let out a guttural groan, and pulled her off him. “I’ve ruined you”, he said, not looking guilty about that fact in the slightest. She got back on her feet. “Ruin me more”, she breathed. For a long agonizing moment, James just looked at her. “My sweet fool of a wife. I will”.

James grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her down to kiss her. Rosalind let out a small whimper of glee, when, with an arm around her back, he made her lay on the bed. Pressing a knee between her legs, he lapped at her right nipple with his tongue, and sucked hard at it. Rosalind began moving her hips to create friction against her warmth; and felt her slick spread on his thigh. James lifted his head, and attacked her mouth with deep kisses. Fisting his short locks, Rosalind held his head there, so she could reciprocate accordingly. Soon, she was shivering in pleasure from the pressure of James thigh, and the hair growing on it tickling against the sensitive skin in her groin.

Suddenly, he dove down between her legs, and sucked her lower lips into his mouth. When she reached for him, James took her hand, and their fingers merged. At first, he gently nibbled her labia, but then began ferociously flicking his tongue against her nub. Her legs began shaking, and James used his free hand to soothingly stroke her thigh, and up her side. Within a short while, everything went white, and Rosalind moaned loudly as her climax hit her.

“James…”, she whimpered. “Hmm”, James said – slight smile on his face – and crawled up her body, kissing her again; her slick still covering his beard. He gingerly stroked her side, where the guard had kicked her. “Any pain?”, he asked “No. I am alright. Please, James… I want you". James smiled mischievously at her. “Well, you will have to wait”, he said. “No… Why?”, she whimpered. “Because I want you clenching when I enter you”, he replied. “You’re going to come again. Turn around”. Her heart in her throat, Rosalind did as she was told, and went to lay on her stomach. With strong hands, James lifted her hips, so she was on her knees, while her chest rested on the bed.

He entered her with two fingers, crooked them, and began stroking against her front wall. Rosalind cried out, while his fingers pushed harder, and a tidal wave of pleasure spread through her body. It was becoming too much, and a tear escaped her eye. “Please… I can’t, James…”, she said. “Yes you can. Just let it happen, my love”. Kneeling behind her, James leaned down, and pressed a soft kiss between her shoulder blades, and sped up his movements inside her. A fire spread from her loins, and down her legs. “James…”, Rosalind whimpered. “Come, Rose”, he demanded. At his words, she lost control of her limbs, and every muscle in her lower body tensed up. It was like an explosion in her abdomen; and she buried her face in the pillow, screaming out his James’ name. When all air had left her lungs, she collapsed against the mattress.

James turned her around as gently as he was capable of in his current state. Placing himself between his wife’s thighs, he looked at her tear-stained face with wary eyes. “Did I hurt you?”, he asked. “No…”, she sniveled. “It was just… so much”. She couldn’t help but laugh a little at her own words. They didn’t even come close to describe the intense pleasure she’d just felt. James gave her a slightly confused smile, before brushing his lips against hers; and then kissed away her tears. “Good… good. Because I can’t wait any longer”.

Rosalind cried out when suddenly she felt James enter her with a hard thrust of his hips. He searched her eyes for any sign of discomfort, and when she simply gave him a blissful smile, he began moving. “My love…”, James panted, and pressed his lips to hers. “My Rose…”.

---

They did not share many words during dinner, only looks and slight smiles. Rosalind’s were properly demure and flustered; whereas James’ were smug, and his occasional hums were satisfied ones.

The post had come while Rosalind and James had been otherwise occupied, and after finishing their meal, Rosalind began to sort her way through invitations for tea and private concerts. “You should begin saying yes to invitations again”, James said abruptly. “But you said… Aren’t we leaving soon?”, Rosalind asked confusedly. “It would be impolite to accept invitations we have no intention of honoring”. “Quite soon, yes”, James said. “Which is why it is especially important that we are seen socializing”. “Giving away no motive to leave”, Rosalind said. James nodded.

She sighed, and threw the stack of papers in the table in front of her. “Take a pick”, she said. “Part for a few of them, they’re all for the both of us”. James picked up a few of the perfumed letters, and frowned. “Mrs. Collins seems quite insistent that you join them for supper this Thursday”, he grunted. “That we join them”, Rosalind corrected him. “You’ve made it clear you don’t want me leaving the house alone, and I cannot stand the thought of sitting through a dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Collins on my own. The man is flatulent beyond belief!”. “I have no intention of leaving you alone with anyone”, James said. “Unfortunately, you will have to reply negatively to the invitation, as we have other plans”. “We do?”, Rosalind asked. “Yes. Another ball at the Musgrove estate”, James replied.

Rosalind instantly blushed. “What is wrong?”, James asked. “I’m afraid I will have to ask for something I swore I never would…”. “And what is that?”. She met his eyes hesitantly. “A new gown”. A smile ghosted James’ face, and Rosalind clenched her fists to keep her temper down. “Do not laugh at me, James. The red gown is the only one I have for such an occasion, and I cannot wear it twice in such a short period”. “I am not laughing at you”, her husband said. “I am smiling because I have already thought of that. One will be delivered in the morning”. “You picked a gown for me…? Will you be dressing me as well?”, Rosalind scoffed; a little agitated about the fact that James would not let her pic her own clothes. “I prefer undressing you, Rose. You should know that”. She couldn’t help but smile at this scandalous reply.

She cleared her throat, and decided to get the conversation back on track. “Will it be like last time? When you left me to fend for myself?”, she challenged. James lit his pipe, and sat in the chair across from her. “No, not the whole time. But we will be leaving separately”, he said. “At 9 pm. you will feign a headache, and leave the ball. You will go to the harbor, where Atticus will look after you, until I arrive an hour later; having told our hosts that I am worried about you”. “Why?”, Rosalind asked confusedly.

James huffed at his pipe, and looked at her through the smoke. “Because on Thursday, we leave England”.

---

tag: @justchillin-inhell

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Claddagh (F!Irish Human Reader x Werewolf Antiquarian!James Delaney)

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Angst

Pairing: F!Irish Human Reader x James Delaney (M!Werewolf Antiquarian)

Word count: 2.2K

Warnings: Very light angst, allusion to smoking, past violence, and discrimination, tooth-rotting fluff

Summary: Infuriating is one way of describing London-based antiquarian James Delaney. Distant and cold with a tendency to cruelty is another. However, on a sunny day, he allows you to look beyond the darkness around him.

To see the one light he has allowed in.

You.

Author note:

Your modern filí is back! A round of applause for finally finding the motivation to finish and edit this piece, please!

Now, I know James Delaney is a character from Taboo (which is a splendid series, btw, so I highly recommend checking it out), but I have given my own spin on him by lowkey fusing him with Leo Demidov from Child 44 and Tommy Conlon from Warrior. Thus, he has become one of my OCs... this is totally not me trying to justify my decisions. Anyways, he’ll be tagged as one from now on.

Cracking on! Claddagh! What is it?

The Claddagh ring I have inspired this wee piece. It is a traditional Irish ring depicting a crowned heart that’s held by two hands. The heart represents love, the crown stands for loyalty, and the two clasped hands symbolize friendship.

According to Irish author Colin Murphy, the way the piece of jewellery conveys one’s relationship status and is worn with that intention. 

On the right hand with the point of the heart toward the fingertips: the wearer is single and might be looking for love.

On the right hand with the point of the heart toward the wrist: the wearer is in a relationship; someone "has captured their heart"

On the left ring finger with the point of the heart toward the fingertips: the wearer is engaged.

On the left ring finger with the point of the heart toward the wrist: the wearer is married.

(Also, it goes without saying I do not own the pictures used in the moodboard and that the credit for them goes to their respective owners)

Story masterlist

Summer days are made for reading and classical music, to be perfectly enjoyed from your balcony while the city lives on in the background. Slivers of conversations over the phone drift on the dry wind as people walk past, some of them seemingly talking to themselves thanks to their earphones or AirPods. If not holding a water bottle, they have a cup in their hands, fueling the ever on-going silent conflict between Costa, Starbucks, and Café Nero. The occasional jogger raises the question of how sane one actually is to go out running when a single minute outside will have your clothes sticking to your skin.

But days like these are also to continuously have the shadow of the man the whole city seems to condemn in the corner of your eye.

“You’re staring.”

“Mhm.”

“Am I really that interesting?” I ask without looking away from the page.

“Mhm,” comes the same gruff answer.

I clench my jaw at his usual lack of response, the rest of my body following suit by growing rigid. Nevertheless, the irritation is blatantly noticeable in the way my fingers briefly dig into the cover of the book, imagining it’s his throat.

Don’t kill him. You’re in this together. The bloody buffoon needs you as much as you need him. 

With an exaggerated sigh, I let out the breath I’ve been holding, slip a bookmark between the pages, and throw the novel into my lap. Arms crossed and chin held high, I lean back while keeping my eyes trained on the burly figure making his way over. Likely having missed the weather report yet unbothered by the summer heat, he has opted for the usual dark attire. To be fair, the antiquarian has marched to the beat of his own, admittedly righteous, drum since the moment we met at the auction in Mayfair. So it’s not surprising to see him dressed in a neat black shirt shirt, a matching waistcoat and long trousers. However, the rolled up sleeves are a subtle sign the weather is affecting him. All the same, I do have to give him credit for maintaining a consistent style.

I wish I could say the same for his actions.

“You could at least use words, James. D’you know how- what- what are you doing?”

The torrent of harsh words dancing on the tip of my tongue dies down with each step that closes the distance between us. The low gust of wind carries a whiff of the intoxicating mixture of nicotine, sandalwood and musk, which provokes the side of me that is like putty in his crude hands. By the time there is a single step left, there is no sliver of determination to go against him left, only the willingness to submit and repeat last night.

Although, it would be a repeat of most nights.

It’s shameful and hypocritical to long for the one man who has been nothing but a pain in the arse. Yet, I am guilty of enjoying the sex even if it leads to nowhere. All the same, I try.

Try to find the crossroads.

The place he’ll meet me halfway.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

A silly endeavour, isn’t it? 

A pointless silent hope.

The days in the army and those spent shortly as a port labourer at the port of London when not getting involved in cage fights have left his palms rough and callous. Action is in their muscles, threaded through with violence. As deft and strong like a bear catching a salmon, they envelop mine, which snaps me out of the melancholy reverie. Normally, the warmth and feel of his big hands would make my heart somersault, but that’s only during the rare times.

The moments when it isn’t like walking around the walls of Jericho.

The moments in between.

They occur during the late night cigarettes he smokes while I trace his peculiar tattoos, curious about the stories behind them, or he allows me to trace the deep gash running from his neck to his chest, the skin raw and rigid. They are the mornings or evenings of an auction, when he tells me to dress nice before kissing my forehead and getting ready himself. They are even there in the midst of darkness, created by the midnight ghost-like walks around London he sometimes permits me to accompany him on. They also tend to take on the form of the afternoons he spends at the desk at the back of the shop, immersed in inspecting whatever antique he has acquired and thus forgetting all about his tea. 

Without milk, strong, dark, preferably darjeeling. 

I flinch, but blink in surprise at the ease with which I retract my hand from his. Nonetheless, unwilling to submit to our usual dynamic of me putting in most of the work and him being infuriatingly stoic, I let the sharpness of my tone speak for itself. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

James lets out a gruff sigh and reaches out again. Catching on quickly to the tactic of backing away every inch he comes closer, his rough fingers shoot forth like a rattlesnake and entwine mine in the familiar iron grip I had expected the first time.

Hardly anything turns out alright when the antiquarian is involved, his mere touch meaning violence and darkness are not far behind. Regardless of the lull in our search for the Sturluson text supposedly containing the ritual to enter Valhalla as a living mortal, I refuse to have a part in what lurks in the shadows he has taken with him today.

It’s almost comical, the effort put into trying to pry his bear claw of a hand loose. However, the pushing and pulling nor the wrangled curses are much of a concern, if a bother at all, for the man. Ignoring, as per usual, the struggle to break free from his touch, he calmly rummages in the pocket of his waistcoat.

“I swear by all that is holy and all that is not, if you don’t let go of me right fucking now,” I pick up the book in my lap and hold it up, ready to strike, “I’ll send you to the Devil himself. You could give him a book recommendation as soon as you see him.”

Because I really do like the novel he bought for me during the small trip to Foyles earlier this week on a dreary Monday: The Club Dumas by Arturo Pérez-Reverte.

Not that I would ever admit it because James Delaney is absolutely not worth granting an easy victory. I do have my pride, after all.

The pleasant warmth of his palm falls away as his fingers unfurl to casually pluck the novel out of my hand and plonk it on the glass side table. Then he nods to indicate something below, a note of curiosity in the short grunts he thinks constitutes a proper question.

On my ring finger there’s a thin silver band depicting two hands holding a crowned heart inlaid with my birthstone. 

A slight smile spreads on my lips as I slowly raise my hand to admire the piece of jewellery in the sunlight. The wave of nostalgia fully crashes over me as memories of my Nan float to the surface, of the stories she used to tell me as we hiked in Coole Park, the place where the greatest folklorist of our family once resided. What I would not give to return to those days, free and careless.

Away from London.

Away from… James.

Strangely, despite the rocky relationship with the big, burly eejit, the thought of returning to a life without him erases the nostalgic happiness. We are here, in the ever-expanding, all-devouring heart of a broken empire.

And, somehow, there is a part of me that would not have it any other way. Because if there is someone who might know it best, it’s the bloody bastard whose stormy greyish  blue eyes are sparkling with rare delight. A sliver of a smirk tugs at the corners of his full lips, barely restrained.  

So this was your master plan all along, was it?

A pleasant warmth expands in my chest, moving up in a flush across my neck and face. Various emotions are at war with one another, though none of them know how to adequately express themselves. So, I lower my head to hide the effect the gift and, essentially, he has on me. Nevertheless, the way I twist the band around my finger should provide James with ample evidence to imagine how I truly feel even though neither words nor my tone convey a genuine sense of gratitude. “Uhm, I mean… thank… you?”

A sonorous, gravelly purr rises from the depths of his throat. I snap up at the sound, but awkwardly clear my throat at the sight of the eyebrow cocked in surprise. If there is one thing I refuse it’s granting James the pleasure of detecting any hint of fragility in me. He might be a wolf, but even a human woman has her pride and being to protect, which she can very well do herself. “Don’t think I’ll let you off because of this. Do you always have to be so fucking difficult?”

“Like it?”

Lips pursed, I raise my shoulders in a vain attempt to shrink and hide myself from his annoyingly proud scrutiny. “Yes.”

“Good.”

“Why, though?”

His expression falters and he remains quiet, holding out on providing an answer. After all, why would there be a reason for him to give a gift as intimate as a promise, especially one embodied by a band around a specific finger?

I mimic his expression, a response which causes him to roll his eyes. Nonetheless, he briefly glances to the side and licks his lips, sitting on the answer yet unable to voice it. 

After another moment of silence, he finally answers. “You’ve been missing home, but have been unwilling to talk to me about it. My contact in Ireland procured this ring for me, telling me I-’’

He leaves the sentence unfinished and swallows hard, hesitant to share his weakness.

“What? What did they tell you?” I probe, wilfully forgetting how often it has led to nothing. If James is one thing, it’s a man of few words and a lot of bottled up feelings.

However, much to my surprise, there is an actual response.

“That I should be open with you. Sit down and talk. Try to be less…” he lets out a deep sigh and looks down at his fiddling fingers, uncertain now that they no longer have a ring to hold.

The silence returns and lingers for a moment while I patiently wait for him to continue. A strange remorse mars his features when he looks up again and locks his gaze with mine. Barely audible, he finishes the sentence. “Savage.”

The barely audible word drops a heavy stone in my stomach and tugs heavily on the strings holding my heart together, usually so tightly woven yet now almost tearing apart for perhaps one of the most infuriating men I have met throughout my life. And yet, here I am, hurting for, no, with him. 

Despite the usual hesitance to touch him, never knowing whether he’ll allow it, I extend a trembling hand to cup his cheek. James leans into the touch, his lashes slowly fluttering shut as he, perhaps unconsciously, emits another appreciative purr as my fingers glide over the stubble lining his jaw. 

My throat thick with sorrow and pain, I try to offer him solace as best I can. “You might not seem to understand basic etiquette at times, which drives me up the bloody wall, I won’t lie to you. But, all the same, you’ve never been savage in my eyes.”

“Good.”

“Thank you for the ring.”

“Mhm.”

Ah, we’re back at noises for answers.

Although the wolfish communication is normally a point of contention, it isn’t now. For James to open up like this is a big feat, an massive effort, so it’s only fair of me to leave him be instead of chastising him for who he simply is.

Feeling a little brave and foolish enough to test the waters, I ask him a question I had never thought I would. “Can I hug you?”

Nose pressed into my palm to nuzzle it like a wolf scenting something, warming the skin with the friction caused by his coarse but neatly trimmed beard, he nods in consent. “Mhm.”

I get up from the chair, crouch down, and carefully embrace him. True to his word, James returns the gesture. However, my heart skips a beat when he lifts me into his lap and tightens the hug, burying his face in my neck like he had with my hand a moment ago. 

I don’t ask questions. Instead, I remain silent and live in the moment.

Thus we sit on the tiles as London roars and carries on without a care in the background, arms entwined.

And though the timing might be right and I could for once push my pride aside, the three words that have crossed my mind nowadays remain sitting on the tip of my tongue. 

The sunlight reflects off of the Claddagh ring.

On my left ring finger.

The point of the heart turned towards the wrist.

[justrainandcoffee]

SINNERS (fic)

“Shall we pray?”

James Delaney x oc!nun.

Ok, so. If I manage somehow to write this it will be miracle. But I'm trying to activate my braincells and I've been thinking a plot that it's barely a concept now.

But the idea is there.

I saw several nuns in the background when I re-rewatching Taboo. Especially in st. Bartholomew. Yes, imagination! Give me something dark according to that world.

I tried to choose several other options: neighbours, daughter of a member of the East Indian Company, a prostitute etc. I was stuck... I'm still stuck 😂, but I like the idea of writing something dark and the idea of religion mixed with "The Devil" Delaney is tempting.

For now is just this. James x catholic!nun.

Unrequited love? I don't know yet. Forbidden? Yes. All around James is forbidden.

Shout-out to @lyralu91 because she wrote really encouraging words regarding a my previous post about this man. And maybe you could be interested @hoodeddreams13 .

This can be written tomorrow, next year or never but just the fact I could think a possible plot for him is enough 😅.

[dreamlandcreations]

Moodboards masterlist

This is my graveyard for the moodboards I will not write about... no, I will not... well... maybe...

• Moodboards masterlist #2 • Main Masterlist •

Adrian Chase

Vigilante (Adrian Chace x Kryptonian!Reader)

Aemond Targaryen

The Bastard Princess (Aemond Targaryen x Daemon’s daughter!Reader)

Phantom of the Opera AU (Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon (Strong)!Reader)

Aleksander Morozova

see moodboard masterlist #2

Alfie Solomons

see moodboard masterlist #2

Bane

Stolen - Bane x warlord’s daughter!Reader

Bane x mayor!Reader (LP version)

Bane x mayor!Reader (GG version)

Catwoman - Bane x Fox!Reader 

Catwoman - Bane x Fox!Reader (Joker version)

Heist AU - thief!Bane x hacker!Reader

Billy Russo

see moodboard masterlist #2

Bishop Losa

Zombie Apocalypse AU

Boba Fett

Stargate AU - goa'uld!Boba x SG team member / tok'ra!Reader inspired by this?

Professor AU

Supernatural AU - hunter!Boba Fett x Reader (hunter!Fennec Shand)

RED AU - ex CIA agent!Boba x CIA agent!Reader

Brother Day

Day & Night

Bucky Barnes

Neverland AU - Captain James “Hook”!Bucky x Tigerlily!Reader x “Crocodile”!Namor

Caspian

Caspian x witch!reader

Daemon Targaryen

The dragon has three heads - Daemyra x Targaryen!Reader

The Pirate Queen AU - pirate!Daemon Targaryen x Pirate Queen Rhaenys’ daughter!Reader

Eddie Brock/Venom

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo AU - Eddie Brock x hacker!Reader inspired by @fabuloustomhardy's edit

Eddie Munson

Three - Eddie Munson x powered!Reader

The Banished - fox fae!Eddie Munson x Reader

Eddie Munson x dark genie!Reader inspired by @harrywavycurly's not genie

Éomer

Immortality/The choice - Éomer x Reader x Haldir

Feyd-Rautha

Fae AU - dark fae!Feyd-Rautha x light fae Atreides!Reader

Dream of a lifetime - Feyd x Atreides!Reader

Feyd-Rautha x Earthling!Reader

Haldir

Immortality/The choice - Éomer x Reader x Haldir

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Star Wars AU - Rebel pilot!Jake Seresin x Ren!Reader

Pen Pals

The Proposal AU - Jake Seresin x doctor!Reader

Epic(ish) AU - fae!Jake Seresin x Reader

James Delaney

James Delaney x blind!Reader

Biker AU

Maliksi

The Other Trese - Maliksi x Alexandra’s twin!Reader

Namor

Alliance - Namor x Killmonger’s cousin!Reader

Neverland AU - Captain James “Hook”!Bucky x Tigerlily!Reader x “Crocodile”!Namor

Nathan Bateman

Altered Carbon AU

Poe Dameron

The Pink and Blue Ribbon made for @the-little-ewok's Poe x Reader fic

Robb Stark

The Wolf and the Lion - Robb Stark x Lannister!Reader

Sesshōmaru

Sesshōmaru x cat yōkai!Reader

Tommy Shelby

Men (modern AU) - Tommy Shelby x Reader x Alfie Solomons

What Dreams May Come AU

Treadway

Succession

FIREFLY-GRAPHICS MOODBOARD CHALLENGE

(Billy Russo/Darkling, Bucky Barnes, Sherlock Holmes, Tony Stark, WandaxVision)

500 FOLLOWERS MOODBOARD CHALLENGE

(Daemon Targaryen, Valyrian OCs, Darkling/Aleksander Morozova, Eddi Munson and other Stranger Things characters, Hangman and Coyote, Alfie Solomons, Eames)

[noladyme]

The Wife - Chapter 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. As rumors spread that Mr. James Delaney had returned to England – making a dramatic arrival at his father’s funeral – you might imagine mothers throughout London, rushing to present their marriable daughters to the man. They did not; and for three very good reasons. First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness. Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married.

TW: angst, violence, blood, smut (6573 words)

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. As rumors spread that Mr. James Delaney had returned to England – making a dramatic arrival at his father’s funeral – you might imagine mothers throughout London, rushing to present their marriable daughters to the man. They did not; and for three very good reasons.

First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Strange reports were made of late night magic rituals, and more than once the gentleman had been seen with red stained hands – though it was unclear whether the stains stemmed from blood, or the powders he would use to draw markings on his face.

Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness; and no one wanted to risk a familiar connection with a woman who ended her days in Bethlem Royal Hospital – in common tongue, Bedlam Insane Asylum.

Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married.

---

Rosalind was seated in front of the small fireplace in her room at Mrs. Owen’s boarding house, fiddling with the garnet ring she wore on the long finger of her right hand. The fire had long since gone out, but she hadn’t the stamina or even will to get up and feed the dying embers with more wood. As it was, the cold she felt streaming through her veins went well with the chill of the room.

In her hand, she held a letter sent by Mr. Thoyt; the lawyer of her late father-in-law. She’d read it twice; and then once more, just to see if she had not been mistaken.

To; Rosalind Beauchamp c/o Mrs. Fanny Owen

Dear Madam, I sincerely hope this letter finds you well, as I received information that your absence from the funeral of your late father-in-law, was due to an ailment of some kind. Had you attended, I had a seat saved for you in the front pew, where it would have been proper for the heiress of Mr. Horace Delaney to be seated. Alas, I had to take the seat myself, as to not leave it unused; and make the fullness of the pews in the church seem uneven.

Rosalind rolled her eyes at this. There was no doubt in her mind that Thoyt would have filled the seat right next to her, if she had been there; claiming that would be proper, as he was the executor of the elder Delaney’s will.

I should like to extend the well wishes of Mr. Thorne Geary, who has asked if it would be in your wish to promenade with him one of the coming days. I counsel you to accept his visit; as you know he has only your well-being in mind, and bears warm sentiments towards you.

These sentiments Rosalind was well aware of; and was in fact doing her best to avoid the man, so she would not have to spend another drawn out visit, avoiding the topic of widows and widowers remarrying.

It is my hope that your ailment is not of the heart, for I fear I have rather disturbing news to pass on to you; and would not want to make you even more frail. I must inform you that James Keziah Delaney has returned to London. He arrived at the funeral service shortly before the minister began his sermon. These past ten years have changed him much, but it is indeed him.

James. After 3 years as a scorned wife, with a runaway husband, and then 7 more as a widow; he’d returned. A hard knot had formed in her stomach as she read on.

My dear, I urge you to avoid any contact with Mr. Delaney. He is, I reiterate, very different than the gentleman you knew; and from the looks of him, more beast than man. I will be happy to offer any legal aid you might need to separate from him, and fight for your inheritance. James Delaney was proclaimed dead 7 years ago; but as he has been gone for so long, I am sure we can find some legal way to proclaim you continued sole heiress of the Delaney fortunes – among them, the rights to the area in America known as Nootka Sound. I should like to call on you at your earliest disposal. With regards; Robert Thoyt, solicitor.

Rosalind’s hands were shaking, as she held on to the letter. She got on her feet, gazing at the intricately decorated chest in front of the bed in her small room. It had been a gift from her father-in-law; one that he had purchased on one of his many travels. It was the only gift she had ever received from the man, that hadn’t been given out of some sense of responsibility to her. She laid down the letter on the bedside table, and walked over and opened the chest. Moving around gloves, fabrics, unfinished embroidery works, and small boxes of beads and trinkets; she reached the bottom of the chest, where a for years untouched muslin gown lay, next to a veil of fragile lace. She pulled out the delicate dress, and laid it on the bed. It still had a dark stain on the front, from where the minister had spilt wine on her, as her husband and she had taken communion together after being wed. Once outside the church, James had stroked his index finger over the red stain – which was just over the left breast, and smiled. “It matches your lips, Rose”, he’d said; and her distress over having her wedding gown ruined in such a manner, left way to happiness. The way any woman should feel on her wedding day. She hadn’t realized she was crying, until another stain disgraced the muslin; one from a tear.

It was all too much to believe. This man, whom she’d cherished with a naïve and young heart, had suddenly reappeared, after being proclaimed dead. She had to see if it was true; if it was truly him.

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Owen stepped inside; her large figure filling the doorway. “Lunch is ready, miss Beauchamp”, she said. “Thank you, but I will be going out”, Rosalind said. Mrs. Owen smiled brightly. “Will you be meeting Mr. Geary, then?”, she asked. “I will not”. “Mr. Thoyt?”. Rosalind had become a master at keeping her composure in regards to her nosy landlady; but today she was a little less inclined to be polite. “It is a private matter. Please call a carriage for me”, she said shortly, and the stout woman recoiled slightly at her tone. “Right away, miss”.

After the door closed again, Rosalind stripped off her plain, cotton day dress, and put on a dark blue gown; more suited for an afternoon visit. She shrugged off her inclination to wear the red gown. That would be too much. Her dark grey jacket, a purse and a capote to match, finished her ensemble. Her boots weren’t much to speak of, but they kept her feet mostly dry; though the soles were wearing thin.

The carriage was waiting for her outside the boarding house. She asked the driver to take her back to her former home.

---

Chamber House was even more dreary than when she’d been there last. The smell from the river running behind the house struck her nose, and Rosalind felt a chill go through her body. Trying to open the metal gate, she had to lean against it; putting her whole weight on the rusty thing. It made a loud screeching sound, when it finally opened.

The garden in front of the house was unkempt, and the windows on the bottom floor had been boarded up. For a moment, she considered leaving, as the building seemed abandoned. Maybe Thoyt had been mistaken, and the man at the funeral was an imposter. Smoke from the chimney let Rosalind know that someone was inside, but she had also heard stories of mudlarks roaming empty houses for warmth and the occasional cat that could be made in to dinner. This wasn’t a place for proper ladies, as countess Musgrove would say, but the countess was hardly a proper lady herself, and Rosalind had business to attend.

She went up the few steps to the door, and took a deep breath, before knocking on the door. There was the sound of a dog barking, and then some shuffling around, followed by a voice muttering at the dog. The door opened, and a slight, tired looking man appeared in front of her. “Brace…”, Rosalind greeted him quietly. The old butler stood seemingly dumbfounded at her arrival. She looked up at the sky. “It seems about to rain. May I please come in?”. “Of course, ma’am", Brace muttered, and stepped aside.

The grand hallway was less grand than it had been, years before. The house seemed dark and cold, and Rosalind did not feel inclined to take of her hat or jacket, when Brace reached for them. “I won’t be staying long”, she said. “I just came to see… Is it true? Is he back?”. “He is…”, Brace said with a nod. “This last week". “And you didn’t feel it necessary to inform me?”. Brace looked at the floor in front of him, and fidgeted with the hem of his tattered jacket. “He is changed, Mrs. Delaney…”, Brace began. “Miss Beauchamp”, Rosalind corrected him. Brace recoiled at this, but kept his expression as indifferent as possible. “Yes, miss”.

Rosalind walked towards the sitting room with as much calm as she could muster. “Is he here?”, she asked. “No”, Brace replied. “He is… on business. I don’t know when he’ll return”. “I’ll have to wait, then”, Rosalind sighed. Brace stepped in front of her. “Ma’am… Miss”, he said. “You shouldn’t. James isn’t… He is not the young man you knew”. “And I’m not the girl he knew either”, Rosalind retorted. “In any case, I need to speak with him…”. Brace must have seen the determination on her face, because he stepped aside, and let Rosalind enter the room.

It was dark, and smelled of a mixture of spices, whiskey; and wet firewood and ashes – only slightly taking away from the smell of the river. The furniture was the same, though damaged from the moisture seeping through the walls from the Thames. A large grey dog rested by the unlit fireplace, and lifted its head slightly as she entered. Though it had made its presence known earlier, it seemed to be more bark than bite; and simply let out a huff, as she seated herself on the sofa. It raised its eyes to look at her, and she smiled slightly at it; feeling like she got a sort of smile in return. “Tea, miss?”, Brace asked. “No, thank you”, Rosalind said. “Good. We don’t have any”, the butler smiled. “And from what I remember, you prefer coffee”. His expression had warmed, since he’d apparently accepted that Rosalind had no intention of leaving. She suspected he was trying to soften the blow of whatever she was about to face. “That sounds lovely. Thank you, Brace”.

After the butler had disappeared, Rosalind took some time to get reacquainted with the room in which she’d spent many hours, years before. Seated on this same couch, she’d kept her father-in-law company, as he rambled about his business and how everyone was trying to cheat him. She’d had tea with uninteresting ladies from all over town, who all came with well wishes after the wedding, combined with insincere regrets upon the departure of her husband, so soon after. The same night, in fact. A whole year she’d managed to keep her sanity in the house, which became draftier and drearier almost by the second. When his son had up and left suddenly, the elder Delaney had gone into a strange bout of melancholy; almost seeming to feel guilty about the fact. Rosalind did her best to keep up the façade of a good wife and daughter-in-law, but found it harder and harder to keep up with Mr. Delaney’s moods, and when the letters from her husband stopped, she found no reason to stay in the house any longer. She would visit weekly, but never for long, as the old man seemed rather indifferent to whether she was there or not, and mostly stared into the fireplace, and muttered to himself.

Horace Delaney had made sure she received an allowance to keep up with expenses; but 4£ a month did not stretch far. In the end, Rosalind had taken up work as a chaperone and occasional tutor to young ladies in the south-east of England – never straying too far from London.

Two years after leaving the Chamber House, Rosalind received a letter, letting her know that her husband was suspected dead in a shipwreck. The news hit her painfully hard. Deep down, she had always hoped that James would return to her one day, even after he was thought of as dead; though rationally, she knew better. She’d dreamed of him often. He was always at a distance, always out of reach. It was agony to miss him so. Now, he had returned, and as it was, clearly not for his wife.

Soon after, her visits became rarer. The elder Delaney more or less ignored her when she came, and more than once, he’d asked Brace to tell her to leave, while she was still in the room; so he could get back to work. She’d attended Zilpha's wedding, but the two had never been close; merely friendly acquaintances, with a dead brother and husband in common. Once Zilpha had passed, after a sudden disease that made her seem old beyond her years in just weeks, Horace made it clear he had no wish to see any kind if family; so for two years, Rosalind had stayed away from Chamber House.

Until today.

Brace returned with a tray of coffee and biscuits that looked hard enough to crack a tooth on. Out of sheer politeness, Rosalind picked up one, and dipped it in her cup of coffee, to soften the treat. Brace threw a biscuit at the dog, who gulped it up without much trouble chewing it. Rosalind dropped her biscuit on the floor herself, and the dog got up, and slowly walked over to eat it. It lifted its head, and looked at her; and she timidly scratched it behind its ear.

Suddenly, it turned its head, and looked towards the hallway. The door opened, and a gust of wind blew through the house; making it sound like the building was whimpering, as it passed through the cracks in the walls. A dark figure stepped into the hallway; the sound of his boots loud as canons. A long coat covered his broad frame, and he wore a hat; pushed forward on his head, and hiding his face in shadow. “Brace! Coffee…”, he ordered; his hoarse voice leaving very little trace of the raspy, warm one Rosalind remembered. Brace hurried to greet his master, and took his hat and coat. Rosalind sat very still, with bated breath and beating heart. “In the sitting room, but… sir, you have a guest”, Brace said. “I’m not inclined to receive anyone. Tell them to go away”. “You will want to see her… Maybe”. Rosalind got on her feet, and slowly turned to face the doorway.

James Delaney had indeed changed. Gone was the young gentleman, with the boyish charm and nervous smile; and instead, there stood a bearded, brute man, who had danger and darkness written all over his expression. A scar ran from his brow, and down over his eye and cheek.

Yet, she could not find a flaw on him. He was even more striking than the day they’d met. Love and pain streamed through her body. James took one look at his wife; nodded, and let out a breathy grunt. “Rosalind…”, he said. “James…”, she breathed; trying to keep her composure. Rosalind felt as if she might faint at any moment. She regretted coming to see him, and unsure what had been her reason. But now she was here, as was he; and internally, she struggled not to throw herself into his arms, or attack him with the fire poke.

Rosalind sat back down, and James took his place in what had been his father’s chair, opposite her; looking at the dog. He took a biscuit, and threw it in the air. The dog caught it, and gobbled it down. Brace went over to the samovar, and looked at Rosalind. “More coffee, miss Beauchamp?”, he asked. James eyes flew towards Rosalind, and then down at the ring adorning her right hand; and something hard ghosted his face. She immediately regretted not having worn gloves. “Yes. More coffee for miss Beauchamp, and then maybe a cup for your master, hmm?”, James said. “Of course, sir. And I’ve prepared a cod for dinner. Atticus brought it”. James replied with a grunt, and Brace poured coffee for them. “Will you be staying, miss?”. “No, thank you Brace. My landlady is expecting me at the boarding house”, Rosalind said. Once again, James gave her an unreadable, hard look.

Brace stood uncomfortably by the fireplace, before finally pretending to remember something he had to see to, and scuttered off. James and Rosalind sat in silence for a long moment. Trying to calm herself, Rosalind took a sip of her coffee. “I was told you died”, she said quietly. “I did”, James replied, and drank the entire content of his cup in one go. “You’re a widow, miss Beauchamp”. Rosalind’s cheeks flushed red. “It was easier to use my maiden name…”. “To separate yourself from my father, or me…?”, James grunted. Rosalind looked down. “To start anew”, she whispered. “I had to start over, after you left”.

James seemingly ignored that last sentence. “You did not attend my father’s funeral”, he said, his eyes fixed on something on the far wall. You did not attend our wedding night, Rosalind wanted to reply; but thought the better of it. “I felt indisposed”, she said meekly. “Too indisposed to say a last farewell to the man who has been keeping up your expenses these last 10 years?”, James challenged. “Whom you were set to inherit this house and the rest of his fortune from?”. “I am not kept”, she retorted. James eyes flickered. “I felt indisposed to sit through a sham of a service set up by a lawyer, who had no love for the deceased; and to then have to avoid the wandering eyes of every man in the room, hoping to get his hand on said fortune. And me”.

James raised his brows at her, making the scar on his face even more prominent. “You’ve had suitors, then?”, he asked. “I’ve been a widow, not a nun”, Rosalind retorted, an angry edge to her voice. James’ lip twitched into a slight smile, which was gone as soon as it had arrived. “But never remarried…”, he said. “You know I didn’t…”. “You could have gone to France. Stayed with relatives there. They could have found a suitable match for you”. “I have no family to speak of in France. And I’ve never met any of the few I have”.

With a loud bang, James put one foot up on the ottoman in front of his chair, and pulled off his boot. “So, is that why you are here? Because you want to be married?”, he asked, and took off the other boot. “You said my husband was dead. It seems that is not an option”. Rosalind did not understand why uttering the words brought her as much pain as it did; but she felt something break inside her when she did. “Then why?”. “I need to know where I stand. Dead as you may be, here you are; and my situation is much different than I thought it to be”, she said. “It is clear that I am no longer the heiress of this… grand house, and your father’s holdings. To add to that is that, legally I am bound to you; and you to me…”. “I will keep up with your expenses”, James said, interrupting her. “How much was my father providing?”. Rosalind bit her cheek, and looked down again. “4£ a month”, she whispered.

James eyes widened. “My father only granted you 4£ a month?”, he said. “That is not much money for hats, lace gloves and whatnot”. “Don’t insult me, James”, Rosalind said. “You know full well that I couldn’t care less about hats and gloves”. “Do I? I have not seen you in ten years”, James shrugged. “And who’s fault is that?”, Rosalind hissed. “Hmm”, James muttered. “How have you been making a living? I take it you have had to take on employment? There aren’t many ways for a gentle woman to make money. I hope you have not been forced to solicit yourself”. His voice was cold, and his eyes traced her figure. “You are cruel…”, Rosalind said. “And you are not first to have uttered those words. Though; vicious and evil are more common, when I am spoken of". James took a sip of his coffee, and studied her face for a reaction. Rosalind kept her composure, surprising even herself at her ability to do so.

“You should know I have received a letter from Mr. Thoyt, your father’s lawyer", she said. James met her eyes again, narrowing his own. “He has offered me legal aid in regards to claiming your inheritance”. “Which you will accept, of course". James said. “No. I will not. It is not my inheritance. I didn’t even truly want it, when I thought you were dead". He looked down at her feet, and she instinctively pulled them backwards, and tried to cover them with her skirts. “You could have used it", James said. “I don’t want your family’s money. That was not why I married you".

James got on his feet abruptly, making it clear it was time for Rosalind to leave. She stood up, and walked towards the hallway; clutching her purse. “I will provide you with 15£ a month. I do not want you taking on employment with anyone anymore… no matter what it is”, James said. “Why do you care? Very few people know I am your wife; and I do not use your name”, Rosalind replied. “I will not be dragging it through the mud”. “Call it taking responsibility for my mistakes”, he said. “Is that what I am?”. Her voice was shaking at this point.

James met her eyes, and let out a short, audible breath. “Take yourself to a shoemaker, and have him make you some better boots”, he said. “The ones you have on, are almost worn out. Have them send the bill to me”. “No, thank you. I shall mend them”, Rosalind replied. She went to leave, but James put a hand on the doorhandle; and blocked her exit. “You will buy new boots, and I will see that your current accommodations are suitable”, he said, looking seriously at her. “You don’t know where I live”, Rosalind said. “I will find out”. There was no doubt in his voice, he was merely making a statement of fact.

James opened the door for her, but before she could exit, he stepped outside, and looked across the garden, and turned his head to gaze down the road; almost as if making sure no one was watching them. When he finally stepped aside, Rosalind walked down the steps; and turned to face him one last time. “James…”, she said. “Rose…”, he replied; making her breath hitch. His eyes warmed for a second, before he stepped back inside, and closed the door.

---

Rosalind had a strange dream that night.

She was walking along the shore of a muddied lake. A way out in the water, with his back to her, stood a broad-shouldered man with markings on his skin. He wore no clothes, save a cloth to cover his privates. A dark gravelly voice was speaking strange words she did not understand, and when she called out to the figure in the water, he turned around. He was the one speaking, but the words were sounding as if they were coming from somewhere very close; not from where he was standing.

She closed her eyes in fear, and when she opened them again, he was standing right in front of her. It was James, but he had a painted face, and his eyes were black. She closed her eyes again, and covered her face. A strong pair of hands grabbed her wrists, and pulled them down. “Look at me”, James said. “No… You’re dead”, Rosalind said. “Am I? I am here now…”. “You left me. And then you came back as someone else”.

She opened her eyes again, and saw James as she had seen him earlier that day. No paint on his face, and bright blue eyes. “I was always here”. He put his index finger on her forehead, and then just over her left breast. “And here…”. When he removed his hand, a red stain marked her nightgown. “It matches your lips, Rose”.

She woke up in a jolt, and held her hand to her chest. Looking down, she saw a red stain on her nightgown, just over her left breast.

Getting out of bed, Rosalind walked over to the washbasin, and splashed her face with the cold water. She rubbed at the stain with a moist finger, but all that did, was make it more prominent, and her nipple harden from the cold, damp fabric now covering it. She walked over to the window and looked outside. Across the street, she saw a dark figure; looking up towards her. She didn’t recognize the face, but the menacing glare she thought she could see from under the rim of the persons hat, made her instantly move backwards, and out of view of the window.

The bed felt cold and unwelcoming when she got back under the sheets.

---

As she finished her breakfast the next morning, Mrs. Owen came into the dining room, holding a medium sized parcel. “This came for you, miss. Might you have a secret admirer?”, she said. She handed Rosalind the parcel, and a letter. “And your mail”. Rosalind thanked her, and went up to her room, to examine the parcel, and read her letter in private.

Inside the parcel lay a pair of half boots, in soft, yet sturdy leather. They would keep Rosalind’s feet dry and warm, and it was clear they had not been cheap. There was no note attached to the gift; though gift might be the wrong word, as James seemed to see her more as a responsibility to take care of, rather than someone to bestow presents upon. She threw the boots in a corner, unable to define her emotions – anger or sadness, she was not sure. After a few moments of frustrated groans and a few stray tears, she walked over, and gingerly picked up the boots; dusting them off with her hand. She set them down on top of the chest.

Rosalind turned her attentions to her letter. The writing was in the blunt and crude, yet feminine hand and wording of countess Musgrove.

To; Rosalind Beauchamp c/o Fanny Owen

Dearest friend, It has come to my attention that you have recently been made aware of some rather disturbing news. An acquaintance of mine has informed me that your apparently not so late husband has returned to London. It seems to come at a terrible time, as you were so close to inheriting somewhat of a fortune; at least enough to attract a new husband. Am I mistaken in thinking Mr. Thorne Geary has taken an interest in you? In any case, please call upon me for tea this Friday afternoon, so we might play a round of cassino, and discuss your plans for your now much changed future.

Sincerely; Genevieve Musgrove, countess.

Rosalind let out a very unfeminine and impolite noise. She would rather take an ice bath of lime, than sit through another afternoon of the countess and her friends gossiping and filling their gobs with sweets. None the less, she was obliged to attend, to stay in Musgrove’s good graces; and have a chance for another employment with her. And it was not like she had a husband, who could give her a good excuse to stay away.

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Owen stepped inside. “You have a visitor, miss”, she said, a mischievous smile on her plump face. “Perhaps the green gown, for a promenade?”. “Mr. Geary, then?”, Rosalind sighed. “Indeed. And he has mentioned on many occasions, how lovely the green goes with your ten”. Rosalind cocked a brow at her landlady. “May I trouble your maid for help with preparing? I am finding myself out of sorts”. Mrs. Owen nodded, and left the room. Soon the young maid entered. “Please, will you fetch my blue gown?”.

---

Thorne Geary was waiting in the sitting room, politely smiling at Mrs. Owen; when Rosalind entered. “Miss Beauchamp! I came to enquire upon your health, after your absence from the funeral service”, he said. “Mr. Thoyt let me know you wished to call upon me; but I am quite sure I did not respond affirmatively”, Rosalind said. A dissatisfied expression ghosted Mr. Geary’s face. “Alas, I believe we have matters to discuss”, he said through an insincere smile. “Will you do me the honor of promenading with me?”.

A little while later, Mr. Geary and Rosalind were strolling along the lanes of Hyde Park. “Your gown is quite fetching, miss Beauchamp”, the gentleman proclaimed. “Almost as fetching as the green you wore when I last called upon you”. “I am unsure whether that is a compliment, or an insult”, Rosalind replied. Geary cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable about her response.

“It was quite a shock to see James Delaney at the funeral”, Geary said. He was holding his arm in such a manner, that Rosalind was invited to take it. She ignored the gesture. “I am sure it was”, she muttered; and moved her body to put a little more distance between them. Geary stepped after her, and the smell of the herring he had obviously eaten earlier hit her nose. Rosalind detested herring. “I am sure it came as an even greater shock for you, my dear Rosalind”, he said. “Please, Mr. Geary. I do not think we are quite close enough acquaintances for pet names”. “Are we not family? In-laws?”, Geary smiled. “Now, more than ever, it would seem, as you… husband has reappeared”.

He gestured for them to walk down a smaller lane, away from curious ears. “Ever since we first met, I’ve felt a close connection to you”, Geary said. “And, then when my dear Zilpha passed… well, I must admit, I hoped we might build on that bond”. Rosalind felt bile rise in her throat. “Mr. Geary…”, she began. “Thorne, please…”, Geary insisted. “Mr. Geary!”, Rosalind said firmly. “This conversation is highly improper, and I beg of you to stop”.

Geary sighed, and looked down. “You know of my sentiments towards you. Those have not changed, merely because that savage, who forced matrimony on you years ago, is back”. “You do not know him”, Rosalind said quietly. “Neither do you. From what I am told, your courtship was very brief. There were even rumors of you being in unfortunate circumstances…”. Rosalind stopped in her tracks. “Gossip mongering, Mr. Geary? So much for close connections”, she said.

Geary stepped over to a bench in an alcove, and gestured for Rosalind to sit. “Please, miss Beauchamp… for I insist on still calling you that, and not Mrs. Delaney, if you will not let me call you by your first name”, he said. They sat down together; Rosalind aiming for sitting as far from her companion as she could. “I, of course, am well aware that your chasteness can never be questioned. You are beyond doubt the kindest, most virtuous woman I have had the pleasure to meet. Even as my betrothed walked up the aisle to become my wife, I could not take my eyes off you…”. “You should stop speaking”, Rosalind said. “Please, let me get this off my chest!”, Geary said. His voice was not pleading; but hard – and Rosalind was reminded of how her sister-in-law had wilted from a lively and smiling favorite in London society, to a grey ghost of her former self, after she married. In this moment, Rosalind knew that Mr. Geary had been the one to make his wife such.

Geary took a firm hold of her hand, and when she tried to pull it away, he grabbed her wrist; and continued his speech. “Delaney is mad. I have spoken to more than one sailor, who have told me stories, I cannot repeat in present company”, Geary said. “He should have stayed dead, and let you keep the inheritance. You and I could…”. “There is no you and I, Mr. Geary”, Rosalind tried.

Geary’s hand around her wrist tightened. “I know I am not a very wealthy man, but you and I… we both married in to the Delaney family; and we saw how that mad old bastard brought shame on the name”. “Perhaps we should have helped him, instead of standing by?”, Rosalind muttered; trying to keep herself calm, as the man held on to her. He leaned in closer, and his hot breath hit her face. “No… He got everything he deserved; and sired two wretches, who continued to do the same”. “How can you speak of your wife in such a manner?”. “She was a barren fool…”.

Rosalind finally pried herself free from Geary’s grasp, and stood up; but he grabbed her by the arm, and forced her to sit again. “Let me go”, Rosalind whimpered. She was sure to have marks on her arm after his manhandling her. Geary looked at her intently. “I can do much with the money I can make from selling that plot of land in America; and with you as my wife…”. “I am already married, sir!”, Rosalind sneered. “Are you? Delaney was back for more than a week, without letting himself be known to you. It wasn’t until Thoyt wrote you, that you knew. He hasn’t taken you in; you are still living in that boarding house”. A vile grin, which Geary clearly thought came across as calming, spread across his lips. “But, never mind that. That can all be taken care of”. “What is that supposed to mean?”. A knot had begun forming in the pit of Rosalind’s stomach, and she was shaking.

“You speak ill of my dear sister, and now you have intentions on my wife”. James appeared in front of them; a dark look about him. “Let her go”. “You interrupted our conversation, Mr. Delaney”, Geary said. “Is that what you were doing? Conversing? Or plotting my demise…”, James retorted. “In any case, you have your hands and mind on what is still mine. Release the lady”.

Rosalind tore herself from Geary, and got on her feet, moving away from the bench; and towards James. He gave her a look of dissatisfied confusion, and she went to stand next to him, her eyes on the ground. “You should have stayed dead”, Geary sneered, and got on his feet. He stood taller than James, but in no way seemed as dangerous as him. “Is that what you tell my sister, when she haunts your nightmares?”, James asked. Geary recoiled at James’ words; and James half turned towards Rosalind. “I will escort you back to your lodgings”, he said, and turned his back to Geary. Rosalind followed his lead, and they walked down the path. She felt Geary’s eyes on her back as they went.

---

They walked in silence. Rosalind struggled to keep up with James’ long strides; and after a while, she stopped, and went to sit on a bench at the side of the lane. “I have things to do. If you need to catch your breath, then be quick about it”, James said. “You don’t have to escort me. Go about your business”, Rosalind retorted. “And risk the predators setting on you? Come now, we have eyes on us”. Rosalind looked around her, seeing no one but ladies, gentlemen, and the occasional governess taking a child on a stroll. “What eyes?”.

James narrowed his eyes for a moment, as if making a decision of whether to tell her more, or hold his tongue. In the end, he settled for continuing. “Your Mr. Geary made it clear”, he said. “He is not my Mr. Geary. I’d prefer to avoid the connection all together”, Rosalind retorted. “Hmm”, James grunted. “He made it clear, as I said. I am to be taken care of. There are evil men who are out to kill me”. “And my sore feet put you in danger?”. James seemed taken aback, and slightly amused at her retort. “Perhaps you should have worn your new boots”, he said, and stretched out his hand for her to stand. Rosalind was about to take it, when she saw that James had removed his glove. “Come…”, he said; and with her heart in her throat, she took his hand.

It was as warm as she remembered, and his touch sent the same shivers down her spine, as it had those many years before. As she stood in front of him, everything around Rosalind disappeared; and all she could see, was the man in front of her. She breathed him in. Musk, fresh tobacco, grass, dirt, coffee – and that undefinable thing that was merely him. “James…”, she whispered. James expression hardened, and his eyes became dark. “No… None of that. Do not make yourself a weakness”, he said. “And do not let me become one, either. You are too good for that”. “But you…”. James let go of her hand, and his face grew almost saddened. She looked down at his hand, and saw that the tip of his index finger was red. Rosalind let out a soft gasp; and when she opened her mouth to speak, he was already walking down the path again. He slowed his pace, so she could keep up; but did not speak to her for the rest of the walk.

Once back at the boarding house, Mrs. Owen met them in the door. “Going out with one gentleman, and coming back with another… Really, miss Beauchamp”, she said in a chiding voice. “Not a common occurrence, then?”, James said. Rosalind had to will herself not to slap him. Mrs. Owen raised a pair of cold eyes. “I beg your pardon… This is a proper establishment, sir!”, she exclaimed. “And who are you?”. “Her husband”.

Mrs. Owen looked stunned, and for once, she didn’t seem to know what to say. “You are… Well, that’s… You are recently wed, then?”, she asked. “No”, James said shortly. He looked at Rosalind one final time, before turning around, and walking away.

---

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Alright, relate yours OCs or ship to my fav album songs Taylor Swift: Tim McGraw, Cold As You, Picture To Burn, Should’ve Said No Fearless: White Horse, Tell Me Why, Forever & Always Speak Now: Speak Now, Sparks Fly, Back To December, The Story Of Us, Better Than Revenge Red: Red, Treacherous, WANEGBT, The Last Time, All Too Well, I Almost Do 1989: Style, Wildest Dreams, New Romantics Rep: End Game, IDSB, Getaway Car, DWOHT, KOMH Lover: Cruel Summer, The Man, MA&THP, Cornelia Street, London Boy

Tim McGraw: ooof okay this is totally Fallon Parris Jones and Reggie Mantle?  Actually their second first time (first time after they said ‘I love you’ and were dating not fwb lmao) was entirely based around this song!!

But when you think "Tim McGraw"/I hope you think my favourite song/The one we danced to all night long/The moon like a spotlight on the lake/When you think happiness/I hope you think "that little black dress"/Think of my head on your chest/And my old faded blue jeans

Cold As You: Aaliya Andrews x Graham Frank

You have a way of coming easily to me/And when you take, you take the very best of me/So I start a fight 'cause I need to feel somethin'/And you do what you want 'cause I'm not what you wanted

You put up the walls and paint them all a shade of gray/And I stood there loving you, and wished them all away/And you come away with a great little story/Of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you

Picture To Burn: ngl also Fallon Parris Jones but Fallon and Sweet Pea!  Which I hate because I hate being mean to my beloved son but that’s just how their relationship went?

So watch me strike a match/On all my wasted time/As far as I'm concerned you're/Just another picture to burn/There's no time for tears/I'm just sitting here/Planning my revenge/There's nothing stopping me/From going out with all of your best friends

or worst enemies as the case may be

Should’ve Said No: Roxie Flores x Noah Puckerman

You should've said no, you should've gone home/You should've thought twice before you let it all go/You should've know that word, bout what you did with her/Would get back to me

I can't resist, before you go, tell me this/Was it worth it/Was she worth this

White Horse: Lucy and Alexander Pierce

Cause I'm not your princess, this ain't a fairytale/I'm gonna find someone someday who might actually treat me well/This is a big world, that was a small town/There in my rear view mirror disappearing now

And also Aaliya Andrews x Graham Frank & Delaney Carlyle x Reggie Mantle/Chuck Clayton

I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairy tale/I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet/Lead her up the stairwell/This ain't Hollywood, this is a small town/I was a dreamer before you went and let me down/Now it's too late for you/And your white horse, to come around

Tell Me Why: Carmen Rivera x Jackson Whittemore

And I need you like a heartbeat/But you know you got a mean streak/Makes me run for cover when you're around/And here's to you and your temper/Yes, I remember what you said last night/And I know that you see what you're doing to me/Tell me why

Forever & Always: Charlie Dugan x Flash Thompson

And I stare at the phone, he still hasn't called/And then you feel so low you cant feel nothing at all/And you flashback to when he said forever and always

Speak Now: Ooof Jennifer Andrews x FP Jones

This is surely not what you thought it would be/I lose myself in a daydream/Where I stand and say/"Don't say yes, run away now/I'll meet you when you're out/Of the church at the back door/Don't wait or say a single vow/You need to hear me out"/And they said, "speak now"

Sparks Fly: Alexis Argent x Lydia Martin x Scott McCall!!

Drop everything now/Meet me in the pouring rain/Kiss me on the sidewalk/Take away the pain/Cause I see, sparks fly, whenever you smile

ALSO Kit Conrad x Hope Mikaelson

The way you move is like a full on rainstorm/And I'm a house of cards/You're the kind of reckless that should send me running/But I kinda know that I won't get far

Back To December: Angela DeSantos x Veronica Lodge

I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me, so right/And how you held me in your arms that September night/The first time you ever saw me cry/Maybe this is wishful thinking/Probably mindless dreaming/But if we loved again I swear I'd love you right

The Story Of Us: Juliet Capes x Fangs Fogarty

I used to think one day we'd tell the story of us/How we met and the sparks flew instantly/People would say, "they're the lucky ones"/I used to know my place was a spot next to you/Now I'm searching the room for an empty seat/Cause lately I don't even know what page you're on

Better Than Revenge: Amethyst Andrews, wrt Betty and Cheryl

Betty - 

I'm just another thing for you to roll your eyes at honey/You might have him, but haven't you heard/I'm just another thing for you to roll your eyes at honey/You might have him, but I'll always get the last word

Cheryl -

She looks at life like it's a party and she's on the list/She looks at me like I'm a trend and she's so over it/I think her ever present frown is a little troubling/And, she thinks I'm psycho/Cause I like to rhyme her name with things, but/Sophistication isn't what you wear, or who you know/Or pushing people down to get you where you wanna go/Oh they didn't teach you that in prep school/So it's up to me/But no amount of vintage dresses gives you dignity

Red: Ophelia Dane x Ben Hargreeves

Losing him was blue like I'd never known/Missing him was dark grey, all alone/Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met/But loving him was red

Treacherous: Ashley Wilson x Percy Jackson

And I just think you should, think you should know/That nothing safe is worth the drive

WANEGBT: Percy Flowers x Brett Talbot

I remember when we broke up, the first time/Saying, "This is it, I've had enough"/Cause like we hadn't seen each other in a month/When you, said you, needed space (what?)

The Last Time: Carmen Rivera x Lydia Martin

This is the last time I'm asking you this/Put my name at the top of your list/This is the last time I'm asking you why/You break my heart in the blink of an eye

All Too Well: Also Fallon x Sweet Pea ouch

And I know it's long gone and/That magic's not here no more/And I might be okay/But I'm not fine at all

I Almost Do: Luna Hale x Isaac Lahey

I bet/You think I either moved on or hate you/Cause each time you reach out there's no reply/I bet/It never ever occurred to you/That I can't say "Hello" to you/And risk another goodbye

Style: ooh Anastasia Andrews x Jughead Jones

You've got that long hair slick back, white t-shirt/And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt

and also Amethyst Andrews x Sweet Pea

You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye/And I got that red lip, classic thing that you like/And when we go crashing down, we come back every time

Wildest Dreams: Ariel Blossom x Malachai

He's so tall, and handsome as hell/He's so bad but he does it so well/I can see the end as it begins, my one condition is/Say you'll remember me/Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset babe

and Cathy x Bill x Stan

Say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams

New Romantics: Amara Caro & Percy Flowers!!!  

Baby, we're the new romantics/Come on, come along with me/Heart break is the national anthem/We sing it proudly/We are too busy dancing/To get knocked off our feet/Baby, we're the new romantics/The best people in life are free

And Arianne Martin!!

Cause, baby, I could build a castle/Out of all the bricks they threw at me/And every day is like a battle/But every night with us is like a dream

End Game: Amethyst Andrews x Sweet Pea 100%

Reputation precedes me, they told you I'm crazy/I swear I don't love the drama, it loves me/And I can't let you go, your hand print's on my soul/It's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold/You've been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks/So here's the truth from my red lipsI wanna be your endgame

also Stevie Cooper x Joaquin DeSantos

I got issues and chips on both of my shoulders/Reputation precedes me, in rumors I'm knee deep/The truth is it's easier to ignore it, believe me

IDSB: Arianne Martin 

I can feel the flames on my skin/Crimson red paint on my lips/If a man talks shit, then I owe him nothing/I don't regret it one bit, 'cause he had it coming

and also Katarina Aliano

They're burning all the witches, even if you aren't one/So light me up

and Amethyst Andrew

I never trust a narcissist/But they love me/So I play 'em like a violin/And I make it look oh so easy

This is how the world works/You gotta leave before you get left

Getaway Car: April King x Diego Hargreeves

It was the best of times, the worst of crimes/I struck a match/And blew your mind, but I didn't mean it/And you didn't see it/The ties were black, the lies were white/And shades of grey in candlelight

Percy Flowers x Scott McCall (x Brett Talbot)

I wanted to leave him/I needed a reason

DWOHT: Amethyst Andrews x Sweet Pea

I’m a mess, but I’m the mess that you wanted

My love had been frozen/Deep blue, but you painted me golden/Oh, and you held me close/Oh, how was I to know

Abigayle Whittemore x Allison Argent x Scott McCall

I could’ve spent forever with your hands in my pockets/Picture of your face in an invisible locket/You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it

Adrienne Argent x Liam Dunbar

I'd kiss you as the lights went out/Swaying as the room burned down/I'd hold you as the water rushes in/If I could dance with you again

KOMH: Amethyst Andrews x Sweet Pea

Is this the end of all the endings?/My broken bones are mending/With all these nights we’re spending/Up on the roof with a school girl crush/Drinking beer out of plastic cups/Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff

I made up my mind, I’m better off being alone

Avalon Le Fay x Jay

And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for/King of my heart, body and soul

Camila Nelson x Steve Harrington

Your love is a secret/I’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep/Change my priorities/The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury

Cruel Summer: Aaliya Andrews x Jason Blossom

And I snuck in through the garden gate/Every night that summer just to seal my fate

and Amethyst Andrews x Sweet Pea

And I scream, “For whatever it’s worth/I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?”

The Man: AMETHYST FUCKING ANDREWS YALL

I’d be a fearless leader/I’d be an alpha type

I’m so sick of running as fast as I can/Wondering if I’d get there quicker if I was a man 

They’d paint me out to be bad/So, it’s okay that I’m mad

MA&THP: Amethyst Andrews x Sweet Pea

It’s you and me, that’s my whole world/They whisper in the hallway, “She’s a bad, bad girl”

No cameras catch my muffled cries/I counted days, I counted miles/To see you there, to see you there/And now the storm is coming

You know I adore you, I’m crazier for you/Than I was at 16, lost in a film scene

Beverly Mantle & Reggie Mantle

We’re so sad, we paint the town blue/Voted most likely to run away with you

My team is losing, battered and bruising/I see the high fives between the bad guys/Leave with my head hung, you are the only one/Who seems to care

American stories burning before me/I’m feeling helpless, the damsels are depressed

Beverly Mantle x Fangs x Sweet Pea (in Inescapable Secrets)

Waving homecoming queens, marching band playing/I’m lost in the lights/American glory faded before me

Now I’m feeling hopeless, ripped up my prom dress/Running through rose thorns, I saw the scoreboard/And ran for my life

No cameras catch my pageant smile/I counted days, I counted miles/To see you there

It’s you and me, that’s my whole world/They whisper in the hallway, “She’s a bad, bad girl”/The whole school is rolling fake dice/You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes

Cornelia Street: Selena McCall x Derek Hale

And I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends/I’d never walk Cornelia Street again/That’s the kind of heartbreak time could never mend/I’d never walk Cornelia Street again

Adrienne Argent x Liam Dunbar

Windows swung right open, autumn air/Jacket 'round my shoulders is yours

London Boy: Alissara Baratheon x Oberyn Martell

But something happened, I heard him laughing/I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent/They say home is where the heart is/But that’s not where mine lives

Send me a song and I’ll tell you which OC(s) it fits best

[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.

[until-theend-oftheline]

Kari’s Tom Hardy Writing Challenge

Since I am not hosting a quickie challenge this month I decided to try and do something different. This challenge is dedicated to the awesomeness that’s Tom Hardy. I picked a few of my favorite characters of his you can choose to write for - or you can do a rpf. If that sounds like something you might find fun - keep reading :D

Due Date: April 2nd (don’t worry about timezone. As long as it’s the 2nd somewhere it counts.)

Word min: 500 words

Word Max: 5k words

Style: It can be a drabble, one shot or beginning of a series. Do not put in in the middle of an ongoing series since I plan on reading them and don’t want to read 10 parts of something to understand the entry. If you create a series only part one has to be posted before the due date.

Fandom: Tom Hardy

Will you read and reblog my fic?

You betcha :D I am behind on reading for previous challenges so patience is a virtue here

When Do I Post?

Right now. Sign Ups start now and ends when there are no more prompts or when the due date rolls around

Genre: Anything you want. You have to be over 18 if you write smut and you always have to warn accordingly! Fluff, angst, AUs and crack are all welcome. I prefer none AUs - so fics that take place in the cinematic universe the character you choose is from. I don’t wanna limit you here though so if AU is what floats your boat, make it AU.

Limits on what you can write: No Mommy/daddy kinks, no non/dub con, no A/B/O, no merpeople. No underage. No incest or selfcest. No half animal anything please. No glorification on cheating(it’s okay as a plot device but use it with thought), no wife, s/o (even exes) or actor hate in rpfs! No monster or tentacle porn in Eddie Brock and/or Venom fics - if you got any questions at any time feel free to send me an ask,

Format: State in your A/N that it is for my (until-theend-oftheline) Kari’s Tom Hardy Challenge. And use the # Kari’s Tom Hardy Challenge in the first 5 tags.

Pairing and word count also have to be easy to spot in your header!

Submit: After you posted on tumblr you have to add yourself and your fic to this doc.  If you don’t do this you will not be added to the masterlist I create when the challenge is over. If you got questions - just ask :D

Doc link it case tumblr is an ass: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Y_FzXxeqyJZI7bPvv4KLzJlok_jq47DZHeLyUVr_AcQ/edit?usp=sharing

How do I join?

You pick a quote (all are something either Tom or one of his characters said) and a pairing off the list. Send me the prompt number along with a backup just in case and your pairing of choice. ASKS ONLY!! REPLIES, REBLOGS AND IMS WILL BE IGNORED!

There are no limits on the pairings but I only allow 1 person per prompt so think before you sign up. If you don’t think you will be doing it then don’t take the spot from someone else. For now 1 person can sign up 2 times (one prompt per story).

All pairings must be x reader or OC or general fics:

Tom Hardy (rpf)

Reggie Kray

Alfie Solomons

James Delaney

Eddie Brock (you can use venom but no monster porn!)

Max

Forrest Bondurant

Eames

Prompts:

1 “That’s simple really. I just left him in a hole. The rest is history.” @erak-w (Alfie Solomons) 

2 “What on earth are you on about?” @thatfanficstuff (Alfie Solomons)

3 “I’m singing right now on the inside. I’m dancing as well a little bit.” @marvelgirl7 (Eddie Brock)

4 “I like dogs more than people. Apart from the select few who I see as dogs.”

5 “Yes I was. Actually yes I was. Yes. Yeah. I can’t say anything about that.”

6 “I had no idea what we were doing. But I know it was awesome.”

7 “Put that in the swag pile”

8 “It’s quite hard to be Taboo when you got your hands tied. But it shouldn’t be. Paradoxically.”

9 “I’m gonna drink from a very small cup”

10 “We know it’s a drama cause I got my arse out”

11 “He’ll wake up. Granted he won’t have any teeth but he’ll be a wiser man for it” @queen-of-the-avengers (Tom Hardy)

12 “Who fights by the sword fucking dies by it”

13 “You can leave if you need to go to the little boys room or something” @seeingthestarsmakesmedream (Eddie Brock)

14 “Intelligence is a very valuable thing innit my friend? Usually it comes far too late.”

15 “There we must go we who wander this Wasteland, in search of our better selves.”

16 Hope is a mistake. If you can’t fix what’s broken you go insane”

17 “I tell myself they can’t touch me. They are long dead” @docharleythegeekqueen  (Eddie Brock)

18 “It’s not the violence that sets men apart. It’s the distance he is willing to go”

19 “We are survivors. We control our fear. Without fear we are as good as dead”

20 “We lay down for nobody”

21 “Patience doesn’t get you what you want”

22 “I’m not being funny here but the thought of you mom answering that door is a bit shocking so...”

23 “You want me to deliver it? I ain't going for that door”

25 “Nonono let him in. He’s only little”

26 “You musn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger darling”

27 “You’re still working with that stick in the mud”

28 “Your condescension is as always much appreciated. Thank you.”

29 “Arrgh! Who said that?”

30 “Again? You’re gonna get me killed”

31 “No! We do not eat policemen”

32 “Don’t go around the back of the telly without you mom and dad watching you or touch any wires or look for a door”

33 “Making the effort to be good is really really important. But being yourself is more important.” @sillesworldofwriting (Eddie Brock)

34 “Leave me or take me. I’m a bag of twiglets. What’s up?!”

35 “She seems like the princess. In a nice way”

36 “Love all things unless it’s coming at you mate. In which case despatch it with the love.”

37 “I’m not really good with heights” @queen-of-the-avengers (Eddie Brock)

38 “I have a parasite”

39 “This is dead. Dead!” @becs-bunker (Eddie Brock)

40 “It’s a term of endearment” @until-theend-oftheline (Eddie Brock)

Challenge tags

@ifyougetkilled-walk-it-off @captain-rogers-beard @dolphinpink310 @grace-for-sale @docharleythegeekqueen @rebelslicious @thorne93 @hillywooddestiel @peterman-parker @queen-of-deans-booty @acreativelydifferentlove @emilyevanston @blacktithe7 @becs-bunker @roxyspearing @blacktithe7 @cassiefanfic @readitandweepfics @kayla-of-shield @fangirlextraordinaire @thatfanficstuff @danijimenezv @hopes-archer @marvelentertainment_madam08 @averyrogers83 @thelookingglassalice @slowlywithfreedom

[veinereastath]

SHIP A TON

I was tagged by @lexieheron. Thank you love <3

I’m tagging @myworldisbiworld @starsandskies @johnathot-seed and @fantasmagoriam. No obligation, of course, it’s just optional and for fun. <3 1. First ship you ever wrote fic for: Oh boy, long time ago. Winter Soldier x OC.

2. Ship you write the most now: My trash Dep and John Seed.

3. Ship you read the most now: Hard to say, actually, since I’m stuck in few fandoms... Probably John x Deputy, Jacob x Deputy, Alfie Solomons x OC.

4. Newest ship: I honestly didn’t find a new one in a very long time.

5. Rare ship you wanna read more of: Give me Jess Black with Grace Armstrong, please.

6. Your taboo ship: As long as it’s not incest (unless it’s canon for a TV show, book or something and it is not abusive, like, both sides want it... I must admit that I liked Cersei with Jaime from GoT and James Delaney with Zilpha in Taboo) than I’m fine with most things. But if incest is made up for fiction purposes than no, I never accept that.

7. They never met in canon ship: Jess with Grace?

8. Your unexpected ship: Alfie Solomons with Tommy Shelby, lmao.

9. The ship you always forget to give love to: Steve Rogers with Black Widow. Damn, their chemistry (especially in CA: Winter Soldier) blows my mind. My favorite MCU ship, but I tend to forget about them sometimes, because FC5 and Peaky Blinders mostly occupy my messy mind.

10. Ship your OC with a canon character (if applicable): Irina x John and my not really developed OC with Winter Soldier.

11. Ship you’re embarrassed to ship: Alfie Solomons with Tommy Shelby... Though from what I see, it’s quite popular thing.

12. Your most romantic ship: I don’t like romantic things at all. Romantic ships aren’t an exception. I like it when something is ambiguous, difficult to describe, complicated. Maybe a bit cold even (yeah, Winter Soldier vibes, you got me here).

13. Your sexiest ship: ... I don’t know. Irina with John have some... *cough* moments *cough*.

14. Your most tragic ship: Irina with John is a bit of a tragedy, honestly.

15. A ship you want more content for: I would give a lot (like, a lot) for a good Winter Soldier x OC stuff. But 95% fics for him are when he’s Bucky, recovering and acting like a beaten puppy. C’mon, give me something ambigous and dark.

[noladyme]

The Wife - Chapter 2

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. As rumors spread that Mr. James Delaney had returned to England – making a dramatic arrival at his father’s funeral – you might imagine mothers throughout London, rushing to present their marriable daughters to the man. They did not; and for three very good reasons. First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness. Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married.

TW: angst, violence, blood, smut (7467 words)

He came to her, as she stood in the middle of a meadow of white flowers. As he walked towards her, the flowers he passed wilted. “Why are you here?”, Rosalind asked. “Because I cannot stay away”, James said. She put her hands on his broad, naked chest; and felt his heart beat as if he was really there, and not a dream vision. “Then don’t… I waited. Even after they told me you died; I still waited!”. “Why?”, James asked; putting his forehead to hers. “You know why, my love”. James pulled back from her, and pointed at the wilted flowers behind him. “This is what I bring. This is what will happen to you, if you let me in”. “You won’t hurt me”, Rosalind said, and reached for his hand.

He disappeared in the same moment, and appeared again, a way off from her. The white flowers were now all dead. “Death follows where I go. Do not put yourself in danger… I should not be here. Wake up”.

She woke with a start. The sun was already peaking through the gap in the curtains, and the room was cold. A wilted flower lay on the pillow next to her.

---

Two days later, Rosalind was seated on a plush sofa in countess Musgrove’s day room. She had long since given up on the card game, as the stakes were much too dear for her purse; and she was feeling dizzy and out of sorts. “I tell you, that feather made all the difference. Within minutes, he was meek as a lamb, and pleading with me to end the torture, and just let him finish!”.

The ladies in the room all laughed at the countess’ story. Musgrove herself relished in the attention, before turning to Rosalind. “Miss Beauchamp… or should I say; Mrs. Delaney”. The ladies all cackled. “Tell me; how is it, having your husband back?”. “Much as it was before he returned”, Rosalind said, surprised by her own bluntness. “Are you still being courted by that dashing Mr. Geary, then?”, a well-fed lady, who’s name Rosalind did not remember, asked. “I’ve never found him… dashing. And he smells like herring”. Rosalind could not cover the disdain in the voice.

The countess got up, and walked over to join her on the sofa. Her blue, silk gown covered most of the seat. It reminded her of water; and for a moment Rosalind considered stroking her fingers against it, to see if they would breach the surface of the fabric. The countess poured her another cup of tea, and handed it to her. “Please. I have it made especially”, she smiled. Rosalind took a sip, and tried – unsuccessfully – to hide how bitter the taste was. “It is not in everyone’s taste, of course. But quite expensive, I assure you”. “I’m sure it is”, Rosalind said.

The countess popped a meringue into her mouth. “Now, your husband…”, she said, after finishing chewing. “I hear he’s quite the brute”. “He wasn’t when I met him. Now, I do not know; to be honest”. “He has not moved you in to his house. Why?”. “You guess is as good as mine, my lady”, Rosalind said. “Perhaps he knows I am quite comfortable with Mrs. Owen”. “Bah, that old gossip monger”, the countess scoffed. “My maid tells me, she runs her mouth to every man or woman who will listen, about her tenants”. “I am not surprised. But my lodgings are fitting to my income, as it is”.

Musgrove raised an amused and overly painted eyebrow at her; while Rosalind took another sip of tea. “Are they? I hear your formerly dearly departed, now very much alive husband, is about to make quite a lot of money; from selling a plot of land. I’m sure you’ll be moving up in the world soon… You might not even need to take employment with me, the next time my niece visits”.

This was how Rosalind had met countess Musgrove a little over a year earlier; as she was entertaining her husband’s niece from Germany. The poor girl needed a chaperone for the rambunctious parties the countess hosted; and Rosalind had held the flabbergasted girl’s hand, as they made their way through rooms filled with acrobats and magicians. She had soon returned to Hanover, but Rosalind had been continuously invited to all the parties at the countess’ home; and had each time sent back a polite decline. She had accepted the occasional invitation for tea, and sat through the ridiculous gossip and banter such occasions had provided.

“I was not aware. We have not spoken much, since his return”, Rosalind said. “I have only seen him twice, and he never spoke of land or money”. She cleared her throat, feeling it suddenly dry. She could not stop herself from saying things, she felt she shouldn’t.

“But you must have heard about the land in America. Nootka Sound”, Musgrove said. “Here; have some more tea, for your cough”. She poured another cup for Rosalind; who took a large sip. “Only from Mr. Thoyt, my father-in-law’s lawyer”. A strange expression ghosted the countess’ face. “Mr. Thoyt… He has been in contact with you?”. “Well, I was the sole heiress to the Delaney estate, so yes”, Rosalind said. She took another sip of tea. “All my husband has spoken of; is how he believes someone is out to kill him”.

Rosalind halted herself. She felt as if she could not stop the words going through her head, from coming out of her mouth. Her hands shook, and she set down the cup on the small table next to her. “I’m terribly sorry, but I am feeling unwell. Would you mind having a carriage take me back to town?”. Musgrove took her hand. “Oh my dear! Are you sure you do not want to have a lie down in one of the guest rooms?”. “No, please. I should like to go home”, Rosalind insisted.

Musgrove got up, and walked over to one of the footmen, and said something below her breath. “… when she’s asleep…”, Rosalind thought she heard the countess say. She used her hand to fan herself; feeling not hot, but still like fresh air might do her good, in her faintness. When she looked up again, the other ladies were whispering at the card table, and the countess had disappeared off to somewhere. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when they opened again, she was alone, but for the countess, who had returned. “Come my dear. The carriage awaits”.

Rosalind managed getting into the carriage without too much help from the coachman. The countess waved her off, as they drove away. For a while, they drove down the roads leading from the Musgrove manor to London; and Rosalind let herself relax against the window. It became dusk while they drove, and the trip took longer than Rosalind expected. The coachman took a few turns she knew were wrong. “Driver, this is not the way back to town”, she called out. She noticed some of the same trees she’d seen earlier. “Why are you taking me back to the manor?”.

There was no answer, but the carriage halted, and she heard the coachman get down. Suddenly, the door opened, and the coachman entered the carriage; startling her. He pulled out a handkerchief, and pressed it against her face; with a firm grip to the back of her head. Rosalind screamed through the fabric, but when she inhaled, a strong acidic smell hit her nose; and she suddenly felt dizzier than before. “Sleep now, miss. You’ll feel better in the morning”, the coachman said. Rosalind let out another scream, and weakly struck at his head; before she had to give in. She had no fight left in her.

Another person entered the carriage; striking hard at the coachman’s head. A knife shaped as a claw slid across his abdomen, and Rosalind saw blood flowing from the wound. “Go back to Musgrove. Tell her the lady will be disinclined to return for tea, until she serves something of a better quality; and less disturbing to the senses”, James voice growled. Rosalind let out a gasp of relief mixed with exhaustion. She found it difficult to keep her eyes open, but managed to meet James’ eyes for a moment, as he pulled her out of the carriage, and tried to set her on her feet. “Can you walk?”, he asked. “No”, Rosalind replied; unable to raise her voice above a whisper. She collapsed against him, her face buried against his shoulder. She held on to his collar, but couldn’t stay on her feet. “Rose”, James breathed. Then everything went black.

---

There were flashes of lucidness. Leaning against a strong shoulder, seated in an open carriage. The smell of gutters, and sounds of laughing people. A street light forcing her to cover her eyes. A voice she knew, speaking a language she didn’t. Being carried up squeaking steps. A warm hand stroking her forehead.

She woke in a bed she knew well, and had slept in it many nights, years before. She was in the bed she was meant to have shared with James after they’d been wed, but had instead ended up sleeping in on her own, after he’d left. The room was darker than it had been when she had lived there; in spite of the fireplace being lit, and the candles set up on the nightstand.

Looking down at herself, she saw that her jacket had been removed, as well as her shoes; but otherwise, she was fully clothed. James was seated on a chair in the far corner; his expression dark and hard. “Did you kill him?”, Rosalind asked. “No. I had a use for him. He needed to send a message to your friends, the countess”, he said. “I did kill the pharmacist that sold her maid the powders she put in your tea, to make you compliant”. Rosalind shuddered at his words. “What happened to you, James?”, she asked. “I was always this. You are just seeing it now”, he replied. She sat herself up, leaning against the headboard.

They sat for a moment in silence, before Rosalind could take it no longer. “Will you not come closer? I can hardly see you in the darkness”. “I should not be close to you right now. I am very angry”, James replied. Rosalind went to get out of bed. “No, stay there”. “Are you angry with me?”, she asked. “Do I have reason to be?”. “I don’t know”, Rosalind admitted. “I know nothing about your dealings, and yet I fear I’ve let too much be known to others”. James nodded. “You did. But no; I am not angry with you”. Rosalind leaned forwards. “Then come closer. You won’t hurt me”. James got on his feet. “Do you believe I would hurt you, if I was angry with you?”. “No”, Rosalind replied.

A log in the fireplace cracked, and the embers lit up James face. His lips were parted, as if he was to speak again; but instead, he slowly walked towards the bed. Once close to her, Rosalind reached for his hand, and he sat down on the edge of the bed; allowing her to merge her fingers with his. “You put yourself in danger, when I asked you not to”.

“I didn’t know having tea could be dangerous”, she said. Swallowing hard, she met his blue eyes. In spite of the crows feet and the scar, they were still the same.

“You visited me in my dreams”, she said timidly. “Hmm”, James muttered. “I’m sure I’ve visited you there many times”. “But you did…”, she insisted “This does not sound like madness to you?”. “Madness that I believe you can do so?”, Rosalind said. James merely grunted as a reply. “You died, and then you came back. I believe you can do many things”. “Hmm…”, James grunted. Rosalind turned his hand in hers, and pulled it up to kiss his palm. “If you want to see me, don’t come to me in dreams”, she said. “I have dreamt of you too often. I want to you there when I am awake”.

James pulled his hand back abruptly, and got off the bed. He looked hard at her. “You are no longer safe on your own. You will move back into this house, where I can protect you”. “Is that the only reason why you want me here?”, Rosalind asked. She reached for his hand again, but he recoiled from her. “Sleep now”, James demanded. “You still have chemicals in you, it is why you are saying such foolish things. There is no such thing as visiting another person’s dreams”.

He left the room without another word.

---

The smell of coffee and bacon woke her. Rosalind gingerly stepped out of the bed; testing to see if her legs would hold. Once she was satisfied that they would, she looked under the bed. There, covered in a thick layer of dust, stood a pair of slippers. She smiled to herself, happy that she’d been correct in thinking she had left them here, when she’d departed the house 9 years before. They still fit.

She made her way down the stairs, into the sitting room. Two places had been set up for breakfast, and Brace was happily putting down a plate of eggs and bacon by the chair closest to the lit fireplace. The dog was laying in front of the fire, and lifted its head for a moment, when she entered. “Good morning, ma’am… or, miss”, he smiled. “I am glad to have you back in the house”. “Just a few days ago, you seemed to rather have me anywhere but here”, Rosalind chuckled, and seated herself in front of the delicious smelling food. “Well, maybe you can straighten him out. Lord knows, I can’t”, Brace replied, and poured her a cup of coffee.

“Bacon, Brace? We don’t eat pork”, James grunted; suddenly appearing in the doorway. He was dressed in trousers, and a blue shirt that was not tucked in. Tattoos were visible on his chest and neck, and the shirt exposed more of his skin than Rosalind had ever seen before. He was tanned, and looked strong. Heat pooled in Rosalind’s lower belly, and she had to look away. “Which is why I made you porridge”, Brace replied. “There’s no reason the lady should suffer, because you won’t eat anything from the market”. Rosalind stifled a smile, and raised a fork to her lips. “You bought this at the market?”, James asked. Brace nodded, and James sprang towards Rosalind; grabbing the fork from her, and throwing her plate into the fireplace. Some of the food landed in her lap. “James!”, Rosalind yelped. James raised an angry finger at Brace. “How many times must I tell you; we only eat what comes from Atticus. He is the only one I trust!”.

Rosalind got on her feet, and wiped the food of her skirt with a napkin. The dog got on its feet, and came over to eat the scraps that landed on the floor. James looked at her, his gaze slightly embarrassed. “I will have your things delivered here today”, he said. “Your clothes, and whatnot”. “I never agreed to stay”, Rosalind replied. Brace looked disappointed. “You don’t have a choice. What happened last night should be proof of that”, James retorted. “And, you are my wife. It is only proper”. “And you are all about propriety, are you?”. She let her eyes travel toward his partly uncovered chest. “I will fetch my own things, thank you". “I don’t want you leaving this house, until I’m sure it’s safe", James said.

Rosalind sighed in irritation. “Brace, I should like to eat in my room. Porridge will be fine”. “Honey?”, Brace asked. “Jam, please. If you have it”, she replied, and exited the room with as much pride in her step as she could muster. She heard another plate being smashed as she went; and hurried up the stairs.

---

She didn’t leave her room the rest of the day. Rosalind knew James was right. Though she had no idea why she was in danger, someone – quite possibly the countess Musgrove – had tried to kidnap her. Angry as she was at him, being in James’ presence – in his house – made her feel safer.

During the day, she heard shuffling upstairs in the attic. Heavy items being moved around, and steps across the floor. The senior Delaney had used the attic as an office, she knew, but she had only been up there a few times; and when she had, her father-in-law had been in a drunken stupor, and she’d had to help Brace get him down to his bed. The thought of James in the same condition, mad and rambling, made her heart sting with pain.

In the evening, she decided to go downstairs for dinner; needing a change of scenery. Her chest and travelling luggage stood in the hallway. On top of the chest, stood the new boots; still unused. She stood for a moment, looking at them, before walking in to the sitting room; where James sat at the dining table, bent over what looked like salted beef and potatoes. Rosalind sat down at the opposite end of the table.

“I’ll have to burn your old boots, if you keep refusing to wear the ones, I got for you”, James said; eyes fixed on his plate. “You don’t want me leaving the house. I don’t need boots”, Rosalind replied. James grunted nonsensically in response. “What was that?”. “Eat your food”. “Are you sure it’s not poisoned?” He looked up at her with narrowed eyes. “You should watch your tongue”, he said. “I am not afraid of you, James”, Rosalind snarled. “You should be. I am a dangerous man”. He returned to his food.

Rosalind poked at the meat on her plate. It looked unappetizing, and she decided to only eat the potatoes. “If you insist on keeping me here, I should like to know why", she said. James gave her a quick look, before downing a glass of brandy. “You don’t want to be here?”, he asked. “You don’t seem to want me here, and I prefer not to overstay my welcome with anyone”. She put a piece of potato in her mouth, and chewed as femininely as possible; considering the undercooked consistency. She suspected these potatoes were of the kind, which would never be possible to cook properly.

James leaned back, and watched her intently. "Did my father ever give you any documents for safe keeping?”, he asked. “Something that might look like a contract, or a deed?”. Rosalind shook her head confusedly. Brace came into the room, with a tray of bread. “No. He wouldn’t let me near anything official looking. I was more or less an ornament, while I stayed here last". James narrowed his eyes at her. “How long did you live here?”. “A little over a year. Up until your letters stopped, and your father became too cruel", Brace said. James tensed up at this statement. “He wasn’t cruel", Rosalind said. “He was just in pain. He missed his son, and I reminded him of that". James studied her face intently. “You always seek out the good in others; almost to a fault, miss", Brace said. Rosalind blushed at Brace's words, though she was quite sure they were not truly a compliment.

She looked at James again. “You did not answer my question. Why am I here? And why did someone try to kidnap me yesterday?”. James looked at Brace, who shook his head almost pleadingly. “The lady wants to know”, James said. “Nootka Sound. Do you know of it?”. The old butler left the room, looking unhappy. “Not much. I’ve heard it is a plot of land in America". “Hmm…”, he grunted. “It is an area on the north-west coast. And it’s mine". Rosalind carved another piece of potato. “I was told you were about to sell it”, she said. “That is what they want. They tried killing me, so they could buy it from you, but they haven’t managed so far", James said.

A chill went through Rosalind’s body. “You’re not selling?”. “No. I intend to use it for myself. It’s located in a strategically beneficial place for trade…”.

James looked at her, as if he anticipated her next question. “And who are they?”, she asked. “The ones who want you to sell?”. He seemed to consider whether she was to be trusted enough to hear what was to come; before finally coming to a conclusion, and continuing. “The crown wants the land, to control the Americans; and the East India Trading Company wants it for naval trade. To add to them, are the Americans, who also want their hands on it. That is why Musgrove was trying to put her claws into you, yesterday”. “The countess is French", Rosalind said. James shook his head. “She is from New Orleans. An American spy”, he said. “All three parties believe they can use you; that if they have you, they can convince me to sell to them”. Rosalind pushed away her plate, and looked hard at James. “My life and yours are in danger, because you won’t sell a plot of land you’ve never even seen?”, she asked. “They probably won’t kill you like they would me, but rape and torture is certainly a possibility”, James said matter-of-factly. He raised a bottle. “Brandy?”. Rosalind shook her head. “I changed my mind. You are mad, James…”, she said; and pushed her glass forwards. “Make it a double”.

James got on his feet, and walked over to her, filling her glass. “I have a plan to keep you safe, and me alive”, he said. Rosalind raised the glass to her lips, and took a sip. “It is why you must stay here with me – and be my wife again”. Rosalind almost choked on her drink. “I… what?”. James handed her a napkin, and she wiped her mouth. “I am making arrangements to travel to America”, he said, and topped off her glass. “I can continue those preparations in secret, if we convince all three parties that I have instead decided to sell”. “How do we do that?”, Rosalind asked. “By you moving in here permanently”, he said. “They will believe that I have reunited with my wife. We are very happy, and I’ve decided that my future lies in England. It gives me free range to continue my preparations”.

Rosalind got on her feet, and reached for James hand; but he stepped back, to put some distance between them. “James…”, she said almost pleadingly. “Each of the potential buyers will want to keep me happy, so they will all be working to keep each other at bay. No one will touch you”, James said. And neither will you, apparently, Rosalind thought to herself. “This way, you are protected, until it is no longer necessary”. “And when will that be?”. “That is still to be determined”. James went back to his seat. “I am yet to purchase a ship, and I’m also still working on safe passage through the American blockade”. “And after you get that?”, Rosalind asked. “After I get that, I will go. You will be free of me”. He more or less ingested a piece of meat, looking like he could care less about the taste – he was only feeding a hunger, not enjoying a meal. “I will make out papers to leave you Chamber House. You can sell it or stay here, that is up to you… I will also leave you money; enough to keep you comfortable”.

Rosalind felt cold all over. James entire explanation had seemed indifferent to her emotions, how she’d longed for him for so long. “And I cannot come with you?”. He seemed surprised at her question, as if he’d never considered the possibility. “Why would you do that?”, he asked. She let out an exasperated sigh. “Because you are my husband. Because I loved you and you loved me, and maybe…”. “I told you. None of that”. He pushed away his plate. “Now, Mrs. Delaney, I have a use for you, and you have a use for me. Do we have an accord?”.

Rosalind looked at the garnet ring on her right hand. She’d kept it there for 7 years, unable to let go of him; but also, unable to wear it on the finger he had put it on himself, 3 years before that. “Why did you marry me?”, she asked. James met her eyes. His expression warmed; and he furrowed his brow, as if to make himself come across harder than he felt inside. “Because I was selfish. You did not see me as I was – as I am. You saw things in me I wanted to believe were there. It made me want you, but you deserved better”. “I still believe those things about you”. “Then you are a fool”. “I think you are the fool. There is no darkness without light. Goodnight, husband”.

She left the room, and went up the stairs; leaving James to his thoughts and plans.

---

In the morning, Rosalind woke up in determination. If James wanted a wife, he would get one. She held no hope that he would change his mind, and decide that he wanted her back; but if he was insistent on travelling to America – if that was what would make him whatever version of happy it was possible for him to be – she would do her part to make that happen. To add to that, she had no wish to be kidnapped, raped or tortured; and the only way to avoid that, seemed to be to go with the arrangement James had proposed.

Once dressed in her best morning dress, and she had made up her hair in a fashionable yet appropriately demure manner, she made her way downstairs to face her husband. He was not in the sitting room, but she found him nursing what looked like a terrible hangover, in the kitchen. Brace was seated by the fireplace, scratching the dog behind its ears. His face lit up when he saw her. “Good morning, miss Beauchamp!”, he said. “Mrs. Delaney from here on, Brace”, she smiled. The butler’s smile widened. “Coffee?”. He poured her a cup, and she sat down on one of the wobbly chairs, across the table from James; and looked over the kitchen. It was even drearier than the rest of the house; clearly vermin infested, and in need of a cleaning.

“I have terms”, she said. James looked up at her from his own cup; clearly wanting nothing but to be left alone. “Terms? You get protection for as long as needed; then this house, and money to live”, he said. “What else could you want?”. Rosalind took a deep breath, and tried to look as calm as possible. “Yes… the house. No lady with any kind of respect for herself, or her reputation, would live in it, in the state it is in now”, she said. “It must be cleaned; the leaking from the roof must be fixed; the furniture needs mending; and I want new curtains… Oh, and fresh flowers in every room”. “Why?”, James grunted. “I shall have to invite ladies for afternoon tea, and I will not have them gossiping about me being a bad housekeeper”. James looked disgusted at the prospect. “Tea…”. Rosalind smiled brightly. “Yes. Feel free to stay away on such occasions, if you are not comfortable with it. We will also need to light the fireplaces in all the rooms in use. It’s too cold here”. “There is not warmth in the Delaney house”, her husband grunted. “There will be now”, she retorted. “Hmm…”, James said. “Anything else?” “Yes”, she replied, and took a sip of her coffee. “The cleaning of the house shall extend to its inhabitants. Including the dog. Does he have a name?”. “Yes”, James growled. “It’s dog”. “Hmm”, Rosalind nodded.

Brace cleared his throat. “If I am to clean this whole house…”, he began. “You will not have to do it alone. We will employ a maid”. The butler’s eyes widened in fear. “Just for propriety’s sake, Brace. Don’t worry. She does not need to live here, and I can tend to my own dressing in the morning”. “You seem quite capable of that”, James muttered, and gave her a once over. “Ah, a compliment! How kind of you, husband”, Rosalind jeered. “You will of course have to extend those on occasion, especially in company, and when we promenade in public”. “I do not promenade”, James said, and took a sip of his coffee. “You do now. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday, after church”. James sputtered in disbelief and disgust. “We must keep up appearances, James. Otherwise, this will never work”. James let out a noise that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a growl. “Agreed”, he said, and got on his feet.

“One last thing”, Rosalind said, halting him. James looked about ready to throw something heavy. “I will do my part to make your travelling to America possible; but as long as you are here, you will treat me with the respect a wife deserves. I do not expect you to be kind, or in any way affectionate and loving – you have made it clear that is not possible for you – but you will speak to me with curtesy, be honest and faithful; and never again imply that I am a whore”. “You dislike whores?”, James asked, a smile ghosting his face. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met one, so cannot say I do. After all, a woman must do what she can to survive in this world”, Rosalind replied. “But personally, I prefer sex without monetary exchange".

She got on her feet, and with a final smile, she left the kitchen; leaving a flabbergasted looking butler, and an angry looking husband in her wake. Rosalind smirked to herself, as she went to her room, to write down her plans for the renovation of Chamber House.

Soon after, she heard the front door slam, and felt the house shake from the sheer force of it.

---

She took in her lunch and dinner alone. In the evening, she was brushing her hair by the vanity, when her bedroom door opened, and James stood there, wet from the rainfall, and a devil in his eyes. Droplets of water fell from the brim of his hat, and onto his already soaking coat.

“Who?”, he said hoarsely. “What?”, Rosalind asked, shaken by his demeanor. “Who did you fuck?”, he growled. “Who did you let in you bed, while you belonged to me?”. She swallowed hard, and tried for a proud expression. “Maybe there was someone before you…”, she said. “No. You were untouched when I left. Now you are not. Who?”. He walked closer to her, and she got on her feet, backing away. “Geary?”. “No! I would never… Never him".

James grabbed her hand, and held it up in front of his, as if examining it. His grip on her wasn’t painful, but there was no way of releasing herself from it. He was strong, and had his mind set in one thing. Answers. They had not stood so close in years. “Then, who did this hand bring pleasure, hmm?”. He tugged her close, and with a firm grip on her wrist, he used his free arm to hold her in place against him; pressing it against her lower back. Rutting his hips forwards, they met hers, and Rosalind found it difficult to breathe, from the friction James' movement created. “And this? Tell me…”.

James broad frame was tense as a bowstring about to snap. His wet coat made the fabric of Rosalind’s nightgown damp, and she shivered, both from cold and from James pressing his groin against her own. “If I tell you, what will you do?”, she whispered. “I will kill him, for touching what is mine", James replied. “You left behind what was yours 10 years ago”, Rosalind retorted. “Since then, it has been mine to do with as I please. And for that, I will not let you commit murder. Do you mean to tell me you never laid with another woman while you were gone?". James growled some words Rosalind didn’t understand. She looked him in the eyes, never blinking or turning her gaze. She would not be intimidated. She was not in the wrong. “You don’t want me anymore. You should not be disturbed by the idea that another man does".

Unable to keep eye contact, James stepped back, letting out a snarling hiss, before turning around, and storming out of the room. “You left me, James. You left!”, Rosalind called after him. He slammed the door shut, and she fell to her knees, finally giving in to tears of heartache and a frustration over a need not fulfilled. She wanted her husband, soul and body; her own was practically screaming for his touch.

After a while, she climbed in to bed, and fell asleep, numb and empty of tears.

---

There were noises from the attic all night. Rosalind woke more than once, believing she’d heard voices, or maybe just one voice, having a conversation with itself.

When she woke in the morning, she spent some time mentally preparing herself for another day of loveless matrimony; and an, in spite of that, jealous husband. Then again, jealousy might be the wrong word. For all she knew, he might just be unhappy that someone touched his property. Brace had prepared breakfast for her in the sitting room. The house seemed, for once, not to be making a sound, and the silence was almost deafening.

“Where is he?”, she asked, once Brace entered the room, to take away James' uneaten breakfast. ”Finding another way to get himself killed, I’m sure", Brace grunted. “He left before sunrise”. “Why is he like this?”, Rosalind sighed. “What broke him?”. Brace looked at her with pained eyes. “James was broken long before he even knew it himself”, he said. “Whatever happened to him after he left England just brought it out, I’m afraid”. “I wish I had known…”. “Would you not have married him then?”. “I would. But maybe if I’d known, I could have…”. She couldn’t finish the sentence. “Saved him?”, Brace said. She looked down. “I believe that was his hope as well. I never saw him more alive, than just after he met and proposed to you”. “Then why did he leave?”, she whispered. “That is not for me to say, ma’am. But if he could have stayed, I believe he would have”. The butler gave her a sad smile disappeared out of the room again; leaving Rosalind to ponder his words, and remember.

---

There had been a ball, with drinks that were far too strong. She’d worn her favorite gown; one of red velvet, that she had made herself. Cadets from the academy had been present, and she’d not wanted for dance-partners. The only uniformed man who would not dance, stood brooding in a corner; gazing towards her once in a while. He looked deep in thought, and whatever that thought was, had put a deep furrow between his brows. Something made her want to see him smile, and when her partner in the next dance stepped on her toes for the third time, she caught the cadet’s gaze, and rolled her eyes. A hint of a smile traced his lips, and she felt her heart flutter at the sight. They’d spent the rest of the night in conversation, and when no one had looked he had broken all rules of propriety, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of her lips. She had told herself that it was intoxication that had held her from slapping him; but truthfully, she knew better.

They had spent every chance they had the next month together, and whenever they had a private moment, their lips would meet; with each kiss growing bolder and more heated. Rosalind lived for his smiles and his gentle fingertips grazing her cheek. She knew it was lust, but she also knew it was love; and when suddenly he had dropped on one knee, she had not hesitated to agree to marry him.

They were wed six weeks after their meeting, with Rosalind never having been surer of anything in her life, than of James’ love for her, and hers for him. Then came the wedding night. With her heart in her chest, she had waited in what would be their bedroom from then on. He’d never entered the room, and she didn’t see him again for another 10 years.

---

The rest of the morning passed quietly. Unable to leave the house, Rosalind resolved to entertain herself by getting acquainted with the dog; who seemed to have no problem eating the salted beef she herself could not stomach. As she sat on the sofa to embroider, it fell asleep with its head on her feet. In the afternoon, she read the first three chapters of a book, before realizing that someone had ripped out pages from it; probably having used them for kindling. Boredom was taking over, but luckily Brace was obliged to play a few rounds of cards with her, before he had to tend to the kitchen. She noticed movement outside, and looking out the window, she saw a pair of rugged looking men tending to the garden, trying to make it look presentable.

James returned to the house just after she’d finished her dinner, with a young, dirty looking woman at his heels. He stepped in to the sitting room with a glum look on his face. “Your maid”, he said. “She will be here only during the day”. “I have employment elsewhere to attend to”, the young woman said; not meeting Rosalind’s eyes. Rosalind got on her feet and approached her husband. “I would have liked to speak to her, before you hired her”, she said. James stepped towards the dining table, away from Rosalind, and poured himself a brandy. “She has experience in the service industry, and you said you did not dislike whores”. The young woman stifled a smile.

Rosalind sighed defeatedly. “Right. What is your name, miss?”, she asked the woman. “Pearl, Mrs. Delaney”, the woman replied. “I’m glad to meet you, Pearl. Are you aware what your duties will be, as a maid?”. “Cleaning things, I suppose”, Pearl said. “I can’t cook, but I can make tea”. Pearl suddenly looked nervous that she might be sent away. “I don’t steal, and I don’t have no diseases!”. Rosalind smiled at her. “I’m sure you will do fine, Pearl. And we have Brace for cooking; don’t worry”. Pearl visibly relaxed. Rosalind noticed James looking at her through the corner of his eye, as he drank from his glass. “We shall have to find you a suitable dress, of course… Oh, and; I will on occasion receive guests here. I would very much appreciate it if you did not mention your other profession when I do”. “Just keep quiet whenever strangers are in the house”, James grunted. Rosalind sent him a chiding look. “When can you start?”, she asked. “Whenever you need me, ma’am”. “Tomorrow at 10 am, then”, Rosalind smiled. Pearl curtsied awkwardly, and took her leave.

Rosalind went back to sit on the sofa, and James took his seat in the chair across from her. He drained his glass, and set it down on the table next to him. Brace had left the mail for him there, and he picked it up, before seemingly remembering something. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out another letter. “This arrived for you at your former lodgings. Your landlady has opened and resealed it”, he said, and leaned forwards to hand it to her. “It’s from Mr. Geary”. “Did you read it as well?”, she muttered, and took the letter. “No, but I recognize his handwriting on the address. It looks like it was written in less anger than the one he sent me yesterday, threatening to kill me if I did not disappear from England again”. His tone was indifferent. “Well, I suppose it’s good you’re on your way to be doing that, then”, Rosalind said. He met her eyes again, and grunted nonsensically, before sitting back and going through his own mail.

Rosalind opened Geary’s letter.

To; Rosalind Beauchamp c/o Fanny Owen

My dearest Rosalind. I came to call upon you this Friday, but was told you were visiting with the countess Musgrove. It was my wish to extend my apologies for my unfortunate behavior when I saw you last. I realize I might have come across coarse in my manner of showing my affections towards you; but I pray you understand that I was struck by the urgency of the matter. With Delaney’s return, you see how I felt it necessary to make my plans of having you for my wife, known to you. I understand that for propriety’s sake, you had to let him escort you home; but I also know that deep in your heart you must long for me, as I do for you. Delaney will either fake his death, and leave England again, leaving you as heiress to the fortune – and the American piece of land – or actually die. Either way, you will be free of him; and we will be free to marry. We will have a rich and prosperous future together, my darling. With all my heart; Thorne.

Rosalind sighed and shook her head. “Another proposal?”, James asked. “Yes, actually”, she replied, and handed him the letter. James read through it quickly. “Well, he’s right about one thing. Before too long, you will be free to marry… Even him, if you’re daft enough to do so”. “He only wants me, because he thinks he can get your money that way”, Rosalind said. Picking up her needlework, she accidentally pricked her finger. “Fuck!”, she hissed, and put her bleeding finger in her mouth. James looked at her in startled amusement; his lips curling upwards. “I think you underestimate yourself”.

She got on her feet, and went to leave the room, when she made a decision, and turned around to face James again. “His name was William”, she said. James looked at her in confusion, before realization came through in his eyes. “William”, he grunted, and looked into the fire. “He was a soldier, but that is as much as I learnt about him”, Rosalind continued. “I was widowed, lonely and heartbroken; and for a moment, he made me believe I could be happy again”. “It only took him a moment, then?”, James said with a cold smile; but frowned when she began walking towards the door. “Rose…”. She halted, and looked at him again. “Don’t call me that…”, she said quietly. “I cannot bear to hear it now. That is what you called me when you loved me”. “No one else has ever called you that?”, he grunted. Rosalind shook her head, and swallowed hard. “No. That at least, was only ever yours. Good night”.

She retired to her bedroom.

---

She was in a forest, strange sounds and whispers surrounding her. He grabbed her shoulders from behind her, and leaned in to whisper into her ear. “Rose… my Rose”, he said. “Am I?”, she whispered. His arms snaked around her waist, and she leaned into his chest; feeling his lips against her cheek. “Yes. Always”. She turned around, and buried her face in the crook of his neck. “Not out there. Out there I am nothing to you. It is agony, my love”.

He leaned back, and put a finger under her chin; smiling at her. “Then let us stay here. We don’t have to go back”. The whispering around them intensified, and Rosalind looked around her. “I can’t live in a dream”. James took her right hand, and pulled the garnet ring from her finger; then lifted her left hand, and slid it onto her ring finger. “This is where it belongs, Rose”, he breathed, and leaned in; placing a soft kiss on her lips.

She woke with a gasp. Looking at her right hand, she panicked when she saw that the ring was gone from her finger. She frantically searched the bedsheets and cover to see where it had gone to; when she saw that it was right where it belonged. On her left ring finger.

---

[iamkatehardy]

Out of Reach (James Delaney x Reader)

Hoping this time it works! I’m sorry for the mess, and I’m sorry I didn’t put the Keep Reading button, but I’m trying all the possibilities now!

Requested by : @outofbluecomesgreen  The idea is hers, and absolutely amazing, so thank you babe ❤

A/N: This story will explore the development of the relationship of James and (Y/N). It starts in their early life, when everything seemed simple, before James sails to Africa. 

The FF will be divided in 3 or 4 chapters, and each one of them will probably depict a different stage of their relationship. This one is about how they met. Hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think!

Warnings: Brandy is involved, just that 😁

Chapter 1

1802

London, a place where boundless wealth was the neighbor of the most hideous misery; where the luxury, wasting and extravagance of some coexisted with the famine, premature death, and vicious despair of others.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, you were born into a noble lineage, in the bosom of one of the richest and most influential families of the entire kingdom. Generally, someone from outside your reality would see you as lucky; another insufferable little lady that could have anything she wanted, and possessed all sorts of titles, including the most wanted bachelorette in town. Gentlemen from all over the Kingdom tried to ask your hand, but you always made their life a hell, in various ways.

You just couldn’t abide all the rules, etiquette and protocols of the court, and that often gave your parents a headache. If you weren’t a daddy’s girl, you would probably be disowned; but you and your father shared plenty of things, including an immeasurable passion for the sea. Something about the immense blue ocean fascinated you, thrilling you and soothing you at the same time.

Another French lesson, something you could never stand, awaited you; and when you saw your father getting ready to go out, you assumed it could be the perfect opportunity to skip the class. Having business with East India Company, he  spent a considerable share of his days in the docks.

“Father?”

“Yes, my precious?” – He turned around to face you, while dressing his overcoat.

“I was wondering…” – You stepped closer, giving him a sweet look you inherited from your mother.

A little chuckle escaped his lips; he knew that look: you were about to ask him something and he wouldn’t be able to refuse.

“You know how much I hate Margaux and those classes…”

“Darling, your mother insisted…” - He put his hand on his forehead, sighing.

“I know, Da.  But if you’d take me with you, she wouldn’t oppose to your will… Plus, I haven’t been in the docks in a while; I would love to go with you. Please?” – Both your voice and eyes were so pleading that for a while he forgot about the troublemaker within you.

“What did you ever ask me that I didn’t happily give you?” – He caressed your cheek. – “But get your coat, it’s cold out there!”

It was a chilly winter day. The wind was blowing from the water towards the land; as you took a deep breath in, a familiar scent filled your nose, calling memories of your childhood.

Sailors caused less problems if they were kept busy, so they were swamped in tasks in the ships, minding their own business, at least until they laid their eyes on you; your arrival caused a stir among them, turning heads.

James was one of the most troublesome sailors, meaning he was doomed to scrub the wooden decks, despite his expertise in other areas. The constant murmurs of his mates made him a little curious, so he got up with the excuse to get more holystone, and he finally caught a glimpse of you.  You looked fierce and proud, but so damn beautiful he couldn’t stop looking at you, at least until the captain smacked his neck hard enough to bring him back to reality; the back of his neck stung, and he rubbed it to ease the pain. The captain’s yelling echoed in the whole dock, you couldn’t help but overhear it, and you turned to see what was going on. Being a troublemaker, you could relate to the situation, so it made you smile. After being lectured, he lifted his head again, and his eyes met yours; it was hard to meet his eyes for long though, they were like the ocean, so deep yet so tender, so full of life, so mesmerizing… Those were the eyes you’d never forget, the same eyes that would never forget you.

Your father was there for business, meaning he had little to no time to keep you company, and you got bored too easily  to simply follow him and his friends while they discussed their affairs.

“Father? Do you think we could take a quick look at that ship?”  - You walked by his side, clasping your hands behind your back.

“My love, I wish I had the time, but right now it’s impossible.”

“Then maybe someone could. “ – You stopped, pointing in the direction of the ship were James was, and giving your father a warm smile.

“I’ll arrange it for you. Just don’t get in trouble ok?”

“I won’t.” – You solemnly promised, although you knew that was a hard promise to keep.

You and your father approached the ship.

“Sailor?” – Your father called, and James turned around.

“Yes, Sir.” – James’s answer was dry; he knew that getting attention from people like you and your father often meant bad news for people like him.

“My daughter would like to have a look at the ship, could you please join her and show her around?”

“With all due respect, Sir, I don’t think this ship is the place for such an exquisite lady.”- He gave you a courtly nod, but his remark outraged you.

“I insist…” – You narrowed your eyes, and he couldn’t help but think you were a spoilt little lady used to get what she wanted at whatever cost.

“Listen, boy, this is my ship, meaning it’s her ship. So if she wants to take a look, she will be taking a look, and you’ll be escorting her. Are we clear?” – The finger of your father was mere inches away from James’s face, and you smirked, victorious.

“Yes, Sir.” – James nodded. – “Ma’am.” – He offered you his hand, to help you come on board.

“Thank you.” – You took his hand. It was rough and calloused, with a firm grip, unlike all the nobles you had met before, but t seemed to perfectly fit yours.

You father left, and you wandered around the deck, amazed with every little thing.  James observed you attentively; you didn’t look so stuck-up after all. Your fingers traced every detail engraved in the shiny hardwood.

“That’s…”

“I know what that is, sailor…”- After interrupting him, you came a little closer. – “I’m familiar with ships.”

He clenched his fists and teeth, calling him a sailor made you look pretty stuck-up once again.

“Oh, come on, why do you look so angry? It was you who didn’t introduce yourself! I’m sticking with sailor, until Your Grace choses to unveil his identity to me.”

He resisted his urge to chuckle.

“James. James Delaney, ma’am”

“Delaney, huh? Sounds familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it… Anyway,  James, I’m (Y/N), and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” – You extended your hand, and before he could bow to kiss it, you shook his hand firmly, surprising him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, ma’am.” – His lips broke into coy smile

“No,no, no, please, let’s dispense with the formalities shall we, James? At least when my father is not around…He takes those things seriously, I don’t really care.” -  You shrugged, and fluttered your long eyelashes.

Many hours have passed, but none of you noticed it until the Sun was about to set. You were both hesitant at first, but James made you feel weirdly comfortable; you both enjoyed each other’s company, and how the talk effortlessly flowed between you, almost as naturally as the silence between two strangers would. You had known each other such a short time, and yet, it felt like you knew each other forever. You found out you had more in common than any of you had foreseen, but there was a lot more to discover.

“You’re not so bad, after all…”

“Oh, no, I’m just as fucked up as they say! Well, I must go now, or my father will really impatient. He doesn’t quite endure delays. But I’m coming back. One day…” – You gave him another charming smile.

“I’ll be waiting.” – He kissed your hand. The golden sunlight seemed to enhance the way your eyes shone; they were sweet and captivating, making it really hard for James to say goodbye just yet.

And he did, every single day he wondered when would you be the next person to show up in the docks; he would follow your father with his watchful eyes, waiting for the day he’d bring you with him again. He secretly longed for one more talk with you, for your company.

Once your father grew suspicious of your interest in the docks, you were forbidden to accompany him there, or to go on your own. Restrictions never worked with you, imposing rules only made you want to break them, this one wouldn’t be exception.

When the night fell, after stealing your mother’s darkest cloak, and your father’s most expensive brandy, you sneaked out through the window and headed to the docks, knowing you’d probably find James, since he was supposed to be guarding a ship ,that was supposed to set sail in a few days. The night breeze was chilly, and you involuntarily shiver, maybe a nice swig of brandy would help; it smelled and tasted kind of fruity, making the experience less bad than you expected it to be. A few swigs and steps after, you finally reached your destination.

“James?” - You called, probably louder than you than you meant to.

He was tired, almost falling asleep, but he could swear he heard his name being called in the distance, so he immediately got alert. After pulling back his blanket, he swung his legs off the bed, and groggily rubbed his eyes.

The tipsy version of you thought it would be a good idea to keep calling.

“James Delaney! I summon you!” –Inspecting the ships, trying to remember in which he was staying, you whispered once again.

James came out of the compartment, wondering who could be calling him so late at night; he came across you, and it left him completely bewildered.

“There you are!” -  You ran towards him, shaking the bottle in your hand.

“What are you doing here?!”

“I told you I’d come!” – Giving him the most fetching smile, you delivered him the bottle.

“Have you been drinking?” – He inspected the bottle and then you.

“Hmm hmm…” – Shaking your head in denial, you rolled your eyes.

“Of course not.” – He chuckled, after a low grunt; he perfectly knew you had. – “Does your father know you’re here, by any chance?”

“Why would he? He doesn’t own me, nobody does!”  - You defiantly crossed your arms over your chest.

“I bet he thinks differently, and this visit will put me in a lot of trouble.” – Taking a deep breath, he slowly tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, and you bit your lower lip.

“Don’t sweat it and spare me the speeches, I bet Delaney means trouble in some kind of dialect…” – Looking down, you kicked off your shoes.

“I wish I could tell you that you’re wrong, but you’re probably right…” – He opened the bottle and gulped down some brandy.

“Plus, it’s not usual for someone as insubordinate as yourself to fear any kid of trouble… But if you want me to go, I go!”

“No…” – He took another sip from the bottle, both brandy and your presence made him feel a lot warmer inside; something he hadn’t feel in a long time.

By the time he finished gulping the brandy, you had climbed on the edge of the ship, and tiptoed on the narrow bar; he almost spat his drink on the floor.

“(Y/N)?” – He called softly, to avoid startling you and causing you to fall overboard.

“Yes?” – You spun on your feet as swiftly as possible, turning to him.

“Can you come down here, please?” – He extended his hand to you, trying to convince you to come back to the deck.

“No, I can’t!.” – Giggling, you reached for the back of your head, and undid your hair. Shaking your head lightly, your hair fell over your shoulders, just before the wind blew through it, and made it cover your face. – “James…If I fall, will you pick me up?” – You opened your arms, closing your eyes and savoring the sensations, the freedom, with a smile on your face.

“No, the water is freezing; I wouldn’t pick the fucking King, if he fell!” – He laughed.

You opened your eyes just to glare at him, with indignation.

“Well, we shall see about that…” – You closed your eyes again and smirked, laying your head back.

He took another sip of brandy and silently approached, catching you off guard, picking you up and throwing you roughly over his shoulder, as he stepped away from the edge of ship.

“Are you out of your mind?!” – He sat down, leaning again the mast, getting his breath back. You tried to release his strong grip, but he wouldn’t let go. Managing to trap you, he made you sit between his legs, as he held you tight into his chest, so you wouldn’t get away and cause any more trouble. – “I would certainly pick you up, ma’am, but please don’t fucking jump. You crazy little thing!”

“I wasn’t going to jump!” – You laughed out loud. – “I’m not that crazy… Ok, maybe I am! But I was just curious about your reaction.” – You cheekily remarked, and stopped resisting his grip, leaning your head against his shoulder instead. Once again you stole the bottle from his hand.

“You’ve probably had enough brandy , miss…” –

“Oh, really, says who?” - You turned your head to face him.

His piercing gaze lifted from the bottle to your face, and the hair rose in the back of your neck. You wanted to believe it only happened because of the cold, but perhaps the real culprit was James’s warmth.  

“Me…” – Whispering, he pinched your nose playfully, before stealing the bottle and gulping the remainder of the brandy on it.

“Hey!” – You slapped his leg, with a surprised look on your face, before bursting into laughter once again. “Since we’re on a ship… I love sailor songs… Do you know any?”

“No.” – His face was guilty, you knew he did, so you insisted.

Alcohol started working quickly once it entered your bodies, and in a matter of minutes the shyness and resistance were gone. James ended up singing a few sailor songs, and he even accepted your challenge to dance; he couldn’t dance like you did, he seemed to have two left feet and stomped on you every five seconds.  For your own safety, you decided to simply link your arm on his, lifting your dress with the other hand, spinning around and singing, like you both thought drunken pirates would do. After some time, you both were so dizzy you fell to the floor, rolling on the deck and laughing.

You laid with your arms spread, getting your breath back; James was fun, he made you feel like you hadn’t in ages. Around him everything was carefree, adventurous and natural.

Being a troublemaker, James was very vigilant, even when he was drunk. Something got his attention, and he got up, looking around.

“Come back here…” – You giggled, opening your arms for him, making him sign to lay back in the neck and relax.

“Shhhhhh…”

“Don’t hush me!” – You sat down, giving him a threatening look

“Shhh!” – James saw a light in the distance, and he could hear voices of officers calling your name. – “Oh fuck, this is all I needed…” – He rubbed his forehead.

“What?” – You raised your voice.

“Shut up! Come! They already have more than enough reasons to expel me, if they find the daughter of the owner here, I won’t only be expelled, I’ll probably hang too.” – He extended your hand to you.

“We’ll hang together then!” – You shrugged, and James sighed in annoyance, grabbing your arm and getting you up.

“Put these on! Quickly, please.” - He grabbed your shoes on the other hand, handing them to you.

“I won’t, they are awfully uncomfortable, James.” – You tipsy tantrums were funny to James; he wished he could laugh, but not when you were about to get caught.

“Ok, fine…”- James took a deep breath and to clear any evidence of your presence on the ship he decided to throw the shoes, which probably costed more than his salary, overboard.

You looked at the shoes sinking, then at James’s face, and you couldn’t help it but laughing uncontrollably.

“Shhhhh!” – He made you sign to hush, but the more he hushed you, the more you wanted to laugh.

Your father was worried sick, and sent officers to search the whole town, including the docks. The officers approached, following the dim lights on every ship. James grabbed your hand and ran with you to his room, before they could get a glimpse of your both. You should be worried, but the adrenaline had the opposite effect in you, you felt more alive than ever and laughed happily.

“They’ll search here as well, they’ll search everywhere…”

“Never had hide and seek been so interesting…And your face, lovely!”

“Can you take this seriously for a second?!” – James whispered.

“Hmm hmmm…” – You shook your head, laughing. Your eyes barely open, from how tipsy you were, but it also showed how true your smile was. – “James, I’ve been in trouble for most of my life, but I swear, I haven’t had this much fun since I was twelve…” – You hug him tight, laughing against his chest.

He heard the steps of the officers in the deck, and his instinct was to hide with you under the bed. There was little room, so he laid on his cold floor and you laid over him.

“What are you doing?!” – You whispered.

James was sick of trying to hush you; you just wouldn’t comply, so he put his hand over your mouth gently. You tried to speak, but his moth stopped you, so you bit him lightly, making him take his hand back , and laughed.

“What’s so fucking amusing in getting us killed, huh (Y/N)?!” – He put his hand on your mouth again, but it wasn’t enough to muffle your laughs anymore. – “I’m probably going to regret this, but here goes nothing.”

He moved his hand to the back of your head instead, bringing you closer. As the officers stormed into the room, before you could say anything, or laughed, he firmly pulled your body against his, brushing his lips on yours. You tried to fight it as first, but you just closed your eyes and let yourself savor the moment. Lacing his fingers in your smooth hair, he lightly slid your tongue across your lower lip, causing you to gasp lowly; your lips parted and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue inside your mouth. You teased him, nibbling his lip, and he sighed into your mouth; you both surrendered to the delicious feeling.

The officers searched everywhere, including the small wardrobe, but luckily for you, not under the bed; they soon left, ready to search in another ship. You and James broke the kiss, and you just looked into his eyes for some seconds.

“I’m sorry…You wouldn’t stop laughing, I…” – He whispered, but he was lying through his teeth, he wasn’t sorry at all. You put a finger over his lips, hushing him.

“James Delaney, you’re quite a character! You just can’t apologize when you should, but you apologize when you shouldn’t…” – You planted a lingering peck on his soft lips, before you both came out of your hideout.

[written-in-sunshine]

Fandom List And Ships

Updated: 12/9/18

This is the current list of fandoms and pairings that are requestable. It’s a long list (12+ pages), and I can always add more if the need arises. Bolded fandoms are the ones I am currently in the mood to write for, and I will try to update that as much as I can. Italicized fandoms are something I might consider working on soon and can easily be pushed back into.

Please look at this list before requesting something, it’s in the rules.

Fandoms under the cut!

Adventure Time

Flame Prince/Fionna

Flame Prince/Prince Gumball

Hot Dog Prince/Lumpy Space Prince

Lord Monochromicorn/Cake

Marshall Lee/Flame Prince/Prince Gumball

Marshall Lee/Prince Gumball

As Told By Ginger

Carl Foutley/Blake Gripling

Carl Foutley/Hoodsey Bishop

Assassin’s Creed

Altair Ibn La-Ahad/Malik Al-Sayf

Desmond Miles/Shaun Hastings

Ezio Auditore/Leonardo Da Vinci

Federico Auditore/Vieri De Pazzi

Haytham Kenway/Charles Lee

Kanen'tó:kon/William Johnson

Kadar Al-Sayf/Gian ‘Salai’ Giacomo

Petruccio Auditore/Gian ‘Salai’ Giacomo

Ratonhnhaké ton (Connor Kenway)/Thomas Hickey

Rauf/Kadar Al-Sayf

Talal/Malik Al-Sayf

William Johnson/Thomas Hickey

The Babysitter

Bee/Allison

Bee/Sonya

Cole/Melanie

John/Allison

John/Bee

Max/Allison

Max/Bee

Max/Cole

Max/John

Sonya/Allison

Beetlejuice (Both Movie/Cartoon Verses)

Beatleguise/Lydia Deetz

Camp Camp

Max/Daniel

David/Daniel

Max/David

Max/David/Daniel

Nerf/Preston Goodplay

Neil/Harrison

Neil/Nikki

Quartermaster/Daniel

Catherine

Johnathan ‘Johnny’ Ariga/Tobias ‘Toby’ Nebbins

Orlando Haddick/Tobias ‘Toby’ Nebbins

Orlando Haddick/Johnathan ‘Johnny’ Ariga/Tobias ‘Toby’ Nebbins

Thomas Mutton/Astaroth

Vincent Brooks/Catherine

Vincent Brooks/Astaroth

Crossovers

The Bye Bye Man/The Crooked Man (The Bye Bye Man/The Crooked Man Crossover)

Jack/Max (The House That Jack Built/The Babysitter Crossover)

Jason Dean/Firkle Smith (Heathers/South Park Crossover)

Jason Dean/Lucas Ward (Heathers/Dismissed Crossover)

Jason Dean/Victor Criss (Heathers/IT Crossover)

DC

Bane/John Blake

Blackfire/Starfire

Cyborg/Beast Boy

Deadshot/Diablo/Harley Quinn

Francis “Hotstreak” Stone/Richie “Gear” Foley

Joker/Harley Quinn

Killer Croc/Babydoll

Killer Croc/Diablo

Killer Croc/Harley Quinn

Killer Croc/Scarecrow

Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn

Raven/Terra

Red X/Speedy

Robin/Beast Boy

Robin/Red X

Robin/Red X/Speedy

Robin/Speedy

Deadman Wonderland

Ganta Igarashi (Woodpecker)/Shiro

Nagi Kengamine (Owl)/Azuma Genkaku

Senji Kiyomasa (Crow)/Toto Sakigami (Mockingbird)

Tamaki Tsunenaga/Rokuro Bundo

Tamaki Tsunenaga/Yo Takami

Wretched Egg (I refer to her as Sorae after Ganta’s mother)/Minatsuki Takami (Hummingbird)

Yo Takami/Ganta Igarashi (Woodpecker)

Death And Cremation

Stanley/Jarod Leary

Devil’s Carnival

The Devil/Tamara

Scorpion/Tamara

The Twin/Hobo Clown

Digimon

Matt/Tai

Willis/Davis

Dragon Age

Alistair Theirin/Cullen Rutherford

Alistair Theirin/Kallianne Cousland

Anders/Ethan Hawke

Anders/Fenris/Ethan Hawke

Anders/Jowan

Anders/Jowan/Ethan Hawke

Anders/Karl Thekla

Anders/Karl Thekla/Ethan Hawke

Anders/Sebastian Vael

Anders/Sebastian Vael/Ethan Hawke

Arishok/Carver Hawke

Arishok/Ethan Hawke

Ashaad/Ketojan/Saemus Dumar

Ashaad/Saemus Dumar

Bartrand Tethras/Carver Hawke

Bemis Cousland/Lysander Amell (OC Ship)

Blackwall/Carver Hawke

Cole/Dorian Pavus

Cullen Rutherford/Dorian Pavus

Cullen Rutherford/Ethan Hawke

Cullen Rutherford/Illeah Lavellan

Cullen Rutherford/Tempestia Surana

Danarius/Dorian Pavus

Duncan/Cailan Theirin

Fenris/Carver Hawke

Fenris/Ethan Hawke

Fenris/Sahir Nadeer (OC)

Greagoir/Irving

Herren/Wade

Jarvia/Isabela

Jowan/Sister(Mother) Petrice

Justice/Seneschal Bran

Ketojan/Saemus Dumar

Leliana/Josephine MontilyetLoghain Mac Tir/Maric Theirin

Meeran/Carver Hawke

Sebastian Vael/Ethan Hawke

The Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus

The Iron Bull/Solas

Varric Tethras/Ethan Hawke

Varric Tethras/Merrill

Varric Tethras/Solas

Zevran Arainai/Alistair Theirin

Zevran Arainai/Mortine Mahariel

Dreaming Mary

Boaris/Mary(Mari)

Father/Mary(Mari)

Foxanne/Bunnilda

Gwendell (Glenn)/Mary(Mari)

Ed, Edd, ‘n Eddy

Eddy/Edd

Kevin/Edd

Kevin/Rolf

Johnny/Jimmy

Sarah/Jimmy

The Evil Within

Reuben ‘Ruvik’ Victoriano/Leslie Withers

Sebastian Castellanos/Joseph Oda

Fallout Universe

Barrett/Murphy

Benjamin ‘Benji’ Montgomery/Derek Segraves(MLW)

Butch DeLoria/Derek Segraves(MLW)

Charon/Derek Segraves(MLW)

Charon/Iib Townshend(FLW)

Colin Moriarity/Andy Stahl

Desmond Lockheart/Derek Segraves(MLW)

Everett/Derek Segraves(MLW)

Flash/Derek Segraves(MLW)

Karl/Justin

Mercenary/Moira Brown

Sole Survivor/Sole Survivor

Three Dog/Gob

Timebomb/Derek Segraves(MLW)

Vance/Ian West

Wally Mack/Derek Segraves(MLW)

Wally Mack/Paul Hanon

Walter/Leo Stahl

Fern Gully: The Last Rainforest

Zak Young/Pips

Final Fantasy

Balthier/Vaan

Cloud Strife/Kadaj

Fang/Lightning

Genesis Rhapsodos/Sephiroth

Gilliam ‘Gil’ Blat/Angeal Hewley (OC/Canon Ship)

Gippal/Baralai

Layle/Keiss

Loz/Yazoo

Lulu/Yuna

Paine/Rikku

Reeve Tuesti/Vincent Valentine

Rude/Reno

Seifer Almasy/Zell Dincht

Snow/Hope

Squall Leonhart/Irvine Kinneas

Tseng/Rufus ShinRa

Wakka/Tidus

Zack Fair/Cloud Strife

Gravity Falls

Mabel Pines/Pacifica

Robbie/Dipper Pines

Thompson/Mabel Pines

Wendy/Tambry

Harry Potter (Movieverse) - ON HIATUS

Blaize Zabini/Saemus Finnegan

Dean Thomas/Saemus Finnegan

Lee Jordan/Saemus Finnegan

Oliver Wood/Marcus Flint

Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy

Severus Snape/Lucius Malfoy

Harry Potter/Hermione Granger

Heathers (Movieverse, Slight Musicalverse)

Jason Dean/Lucas Ward (Dismissed Crossover)

Heather Chandler/Heather Duke

Heather Duke/Veronica Sawyer

Jason Dean/Firkle Smith (South Park Crossover)

Jason Dean/Vernon Sawyer (Male Veronica)

Jason Dean/Veronica Sawyer

Jason Dean/Victor Criss (IT Crossover)

Kurt Kelly/Ram

Veronica Sawyer/Heather McNamara

Veronica Sawyer/Martha Dunstock

Hellboy (Movieverse)

Hellboy/Abe Sapien

Hey Arnold

Helga G. Pataki/Rhonda Wellington Lloyd

Nadine/Rhonda Wellington Lloyd

Stinky Peterson/Sid

Torvald/Stoop Kid

Inception

Dom Cobb/Ariadne

Eames/Arthur

Insidious

Josh Lambert/Parker Crane

Josh Lambert/Specs

Tucker/Specs

Invader Zim

Dib Membrane/Zim

Red/Purple

Tak/Gaz Membrane

The Iron Giant

Dean/Hogarth

IT (2017)

Belch Huggins/Victor Criss

Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh

Bill Denbrough/Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh

Bill Denbrough/Beverly Marsh

Bill Denbrough/Stan Uris

Butch Bowers/Patrick Hockstetter

Butch Bowers/Victor Criss

Henry Bowers/Belch Huggins

Henry Bowers/Belch Huggins/Victor Criss

Henry Bowers/Victor Criss

Mike Hanlon/Bill Denbrough/Stan Uris

Mike Hanlon/Patrick Hockstetter

Mike Hanlon/Richie Rozier/Stan Uris/Eddie Kaspbrak

Mike Hanlon/Stan Uris

Mike Hanlon/Victor Criss

Patrick Hockstetter/Avery Hockstetter

Patrick Hockstetter/Belch Huggins

Patrick Hockstetter/Belch Huggins/Victor Criss

Patrick Hockstetter/Henry Bowers

Patrick Hockstetter/Henry Bowers/Belch Huggins

Patrick Hockstetter/Henry Bowers/Belch Huggins/Victor Criss

Patrick Hockstetter/Henry Bowers/Victor Criss

Patrick Hockstetter/Victor Criss

Pennywise/Pennywise

Pennywise/Victor Criss

Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Richie Tozier/Stan Uris/Eddie Kaspbrak

Jeepers Creepers

Jeepers Creepers/Darry

Kick-Ass/2 Movieverse

Todd Haynes/Katarina Dombrovski

Dave Lizewski/Chris D'Amico

Javier/Chris D'Amico

Kingdom Hearts

Axel/Demyx

Axel/Marluxia

Larxene/Namine

Lexaeus/Zexion

Luxord/Demyx

Luxord/Marluxia

Luxord/Xaldin

Pence/Olette

Rai/Fuu

Riku/Sora

Roxas/Xion

Saix/Demyx

Saix/Xemnas

Seifer/Hayner

Vexen/Marluxia

Xigbar/Demyx

Xigbar/Xaldin

Krampus

Howard/Tom Engel

Krampus/Max Engel

Krampus/Tom Engel

Tom Engel/Max Engel

Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler

Claude Faustus/Alois Trancy

Pluto/Grell Sutcliffe

Undertaker/Grell Sutcliffe

Undertaker/William Spears/Grell Sutcliffe

League Of Super Evil

Doomageddon/Doktor Frogg

Red Menace/Doktor Frogg

Left 4 Dead/2

Keith/Dave

Keith/Ellis

Louis/Francis

Nick/Dave

Nick/Ellis

OC/OC

Lollipop Chainsaw

Gideon Starling/Elizabeth Starling

Lewis Legend/Swan

Nick Carlyle/Juliet Starling

Vikke/Josey

Zed/Mariska

Zed/Swan

Mad Max

Angharad/Capable

Dag/Capable

Dag/Cheedo

Dag/Toast

Max Rockatansky/Blood Shed Ted

Max Rockatansky/Imperator Furiosa

Nux/Slit

OC/OC

Rictus Erectus/The Ace

Stank Gum/Scabrous Scrotus

Marvel

Alex Summers/Hank McCoy/Sean Cassidy

Alex Summers/Sean Cassidy

Azazel/Emma Frost

Azazel/Kurt Wagner

Bruce Banner/Tony Stark

Erik Lensherr/Charles Xavier

Hank McCoy/Charles Xavier

Hank McCoy/Sean Cassidy

Lance Alvers/Pietro Maximoff

Loki Laufeyson/Tony Stark

Mortimer Toynbee/Emma Frost

St. John Allerdyce/Pietro Maximoff

St. John Allerdyce/Tabitha Smith

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

The Incredible Hulk/Tony Stark

Todd Tolansky/Kurt Wagner

Todd Tolansky/Pietro Maximoff

Tony Stark/Pepper Pots

Wade Winston Wilson/Bob, Agent Of Hydra

Wanda Maximoff/Anne-Marie (Rogue)

Miraculous Ladybug

Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

The Mist (2017)

Tyler Denton/Adrian Garf

Monster Prom

Amira Red/Miranda Vanderbilt

Amira Red/Polly Geist

Brian Green/Damien LaVey

Brian Green/Damien LaVey/Liam De Lioncourt/Oz Yellow

Brian Green/Oz Yellow

Damien LaVey/Liam De Lioncourt

Liam De Lioncourt/Oz Yellow

Scott Howl/Football Team

Scott Howl/Liam De Lioncourt

Scott Howl/Vicky Blue

Vera Oberlin/Polly Geist

Vicky Blue/Polly Geist

Monsters University/Inc.

Brock Pearson/Claire Wheeler

James P. “Sulley”  Sullivan/Michael “Mike” Wizowski

Johnny J. Worthington III/Randall “Randy” Boggs

Nadia Petrov/Taylor Harbrooke

Night In The Woods

Angus Delaney/Greggory Lee

Bea Santello/Mae Borowski

Casey Hartley/Greggory Lee

Levy/Steve Skriggins

Jeremy “Germ Warfare” Warton/Selma Ann “Selmers” Forrester

Outlast

Edward “Eddie” Gluskin (The Groom)/Terry “Theresa” Harriss (OC)

Portal/2

Adventure Core/Fact Core

Cave Johnson/Caroline

Cave Johnson/Evil Cave Johnson

Chell/GLaDOS

Companion Cube/Turret

Logic Core/Curiosity Core

Weighted Cube/Defective Turret

Wheatley/Space Core

Prince Of Persia: Sands Of Time (Movieverse)

Garsiv/Dastan

Princess And The Goblin

Prince Froglip/Princess Irene

Rick And Morty

Abradolf Lincoler/Nancy

Birdperson/Tammy Gueterman

Brad/Morty Smith

Greaser Morty/Punk Morty

Lucius Needful/Summer Smith

Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith (in all/most incarnations)

Summer Smith/Jessica

Regular Show

Don/Rigby

Mordecai/Rigby

Skips/Benson

Rocket Power

Lars Rodriguez/Twister Rodriguez

Otto Rocket/Sam Dullard

Saw

John Kramer/Amanda Young

Lawrence Gordon/Adam Faulkner

Logan Nelson/David (Saw .5)

Lukas Faulkner (OC)/Adam Faulkner

Lukas Faulkner (OC)/David (Saw .5)

Lukas Faulkner (OC)/Scott Tibbs

Lynn Denlon/Amanda Young

Mark Hoffman/Peter Strahm

Scott Tibbs/Adam Faulkner

Scott Tibbs/Lark

Silent Hill

Butcher/Valtiel

Pyramid Head/Alessa Gilespie

Walter Sullivan/Murphey Pendleton

South Park

Bradley (Cartman Sucks)/Leopold “Butters” Stotch

Christophe “Ze Mole”/Firkle

Christophe “Ze Mole”/Kyle Broflovski

Christophe “Ze Mole”/Leopold “Butters” Stotch

Clyde Donovan/Bebe Stevens

Craig Tucker/Gregory of Yardale/Tweek Tweak

Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak

Damien Thorn/Firkle

Damien Thorn/Phillip “Pip” Pirrup

Eric Cartman/Bebe Stevens

Eric Cartman/Firkle

Eric Cartman/Wendy Testaburger

Filmore Anderson/Firkle

Gregory of Yardale/Tweek Tweak

Ike Broflovski/Firkle

Kenny McCormick/Bradley (Cartman Sucks)/Leopold “Butters” Stotch

Kenny McCormick/Firkle

Kenny McCormick/Kyle Broflovski

Kenny McCormick/Leopold “Butters” Stotch

Kevin McCormick/Firkle

Michael/Pete

Michael/Firkle

Mike Makowski/Firkle

Mike Makowski/Larry

Nathan/Firkle

Quaid/Filmore Anderson

Quaid/Firkle

Red/Henrietta Biggle

Ryan Ellis/Larry

Scott Malkinson/New Kid

Scott Tenorman/Firkle

Stan Marsh/Firkle

Stan Marsh/Gregory Of Yardale

Stan Marsh/Pete

Stan Marsh/Gary Harrison

Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger

Trent Boyett/Firkle

Token Black/Clyde Donnovan

Token Black/Clyde Donnovan/Bebe Stevens

Team Fortress 2 (I have OC’s for this)

Demoman/Soldier

Engineer/Medic

Heavy/Medic

Pyro/Medic

Pyro/Scout

Pyro/Sniper

Sniper/Medic

Sniper/Scout

Soldier/Engineer

Spy/Scout

Spy/Sniper/Scout

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Leonardo/Donatello

Raphael/Casey Jones

Raphael/Michelangelo

Until Dawn

Billy Bates/Mike Munroe

Josh Washington/Chris

Josh Washington/Mike Munroe

Matt/Chris

Matt/Mike Munroe

Matt/Mike Munroe/Jessica/Sam/Billy Bates

Mike Munroe/Jessica

Mike Munroe/Sam

The Walking Dead

Glen Rhee/Daryl Dixon

Merle Dixon/Daryl Dixon

Rick Grimes/Daryl Dixon

We’re Back

Louis/Cecilia Nuthatch

Yami No Matsuei/Descendents Of Darkness

Hisoka Kurosaki/Asato Tsuzuki

Seiichiro Tatsumi/Yutaka Watari

Zootopia

Chief Bogo/Benjamin Clawhauser

Finnick/Gideon Grey

Larry/Gary

Nick Wilde/Judy Hopps

Pronk Oryx-Antlerson/Bucky Oryx-Antlerson