#james keziah delaney fanfiction

[lyralu91]

Writing smut = I NEED this man.

[lyralu91]

A few more days... A FEW MORE DAYS... Trust me. Have faith. (P.S. I need to cut down on the gin, but I'm pretending to be Stephen King, - minus the crappy endings)

[lyralu91]

Oneshot: James Delaney

hoodeddreams13 asked:

"Hi! I'm not sure if you're requests are still open for James, but I was wondering if I could request something based off the following:

"Did you care?" + "I wanted everything."

From the prompts list: dialogue prompts: three words by @/promptsbytaurie

No pressure and thank you 🖤 (it does not need to be a James × reader fic if you do write it)"

A caring confession

James admits he has feelings for a childhood friend. ❤️ (James Delaney x Fem OC) Warnings: none (just a bit of intimacy and light sexual tension). Dialogue prompts are highlighted in red. Word count: 1951.

“He’s been lying to me this whole time! I cannot believe it!”

She stormed past James, leaving him to hold the front door open with a stiff expression. He stood there, pipe in hand, blinking like he wasn’t particularly pleased to have a visitor.

Saying that, he wasn’t at all surprised to see her.

He closed the door with a grunt and moved his head, far too slow, to follow her march into the front room. 

“I just met Clara for a walk and she told me the most awful things about him! Things I refuse to believe! But then there’s this, she brought me this,” she said, half shrugging her coat off, half waving the morning paper at James as he came to stand in the doorway. “Written proof of his bloody lies! Right there for everyone to see.”

About time, James thought but waved it over with an uninterested noise, brows drawn together, puffing on his pipe. He had already guessed what she wished to show him: the announcement of a certain engagement. 

Angelica claimed the old armchair by the fire, sighing hard as she sat, then leaned down to undo her boots, only to stop midway to pull off her “bloody hat!”. Her chestnut curls were heavy and wild around her face, her cheeks all rosy from the bitter spring cold.

“I hate hats, I hate gloves, and I hate men,” she said, tugging her gloves off and slapping them on the dusty footstool like she’d given all men in London a collective slap across the face. The poor piece of furniture was then shoved aside, making room for Angelica to kick off her boots, only she pushed it dangerously close to the fire. 

“Careful…” James muttered with a cautioning glance from where he was pouring them both a brandy.

Angelica carried on like she couldn’t care less if she set the whole house on fire.

“Clara even said she had ‘had her suspicions’. Can you believe that? All winter she kept it from me. And now he’s off to marry some Louise or Louisa I haven’t even heard of! She should’ve just told me!”

She stood up and nearly knocked the glass from James’ hand as he stood there, calm as ever, offering her a drink.

“And would you have cared?” he asked, composed amusement coming through his deep voice.

“Of course I bloody would - it’s all I’ve cared about for months! - all I’ve been able to think about!”

James watched her drink, nodding like he knew that to be true, while his grunt seemed to say “but that wasn’t what I asked”, then moved to sit on the sofa. He lowered himself with a groan, slurped around the rim of his glass and kept his eyes on her. Leaning back lazily into the seat, he sought her gaze with his head tilted to the side, blinking deliberately as if ready to prove a point.

“And did you care for all the things I told you about this man? Hmm?”

Angelica scoffed from where she stood by the fire, back towards him, cradling her drink in both hands.

“I was there, if you care to remember,” James said, voice lowered in a story teller’s lilt, eyes lit by something wicked and patronising. “On that very night…”

Angelica rolled her eyes at the way he clearly intended to mock her first meeting with Mr Homburg, the handsome Swiss merchant she had fallen in love with.

“Watching you dance… Acting as if you were already - ”

“Yes, James, I remember very well how you stared and sulked and followed me around, behaving like a right -”

“ - yees, like someone who cared for you,” he rasped, like it had been the right thing to do and like he’d happily do it again. “Yes,” he nodded. “I cared. And I tried to tell you. I did.”

This was concluded with another nod and a hefty swig of brandy. It burned its way through his chest and he sucked air through his teeth, lulling his head towards the fire.

He sighed. He seemed tired, but there was something restless in the way he studied the flames, eyes twitching imperceptibly, as if touched by hidden frustration. 

For a while he stayed quiet, then said:

“But did you ever care to consider why I was there in the first place?”

Angelica frowned, confused and caught off guard by the question. She knew he hated those parties, of course she did. So what - did he want an apology? Was he trying to make her feel guilty for going? 

As if his question wasn’t actually meant to be answered, at least not yet, James continued.

“The things I told you that night, and the things I did, I did because I could not stand the thought of you getting hurt.”

This only deepened her frown and she glanced in his direction, increasingly uncomfortable, as his voice had gone darker and his gaze suddenly felt like a physical hold on her. Like hands on her waist.

Angelica took a steadying sip of brandy. Swallowed hard. 

His words almost sounded like a confession.

“Why care for anything that was said or done that night…” she said, quietly into the fire, as if the flames had brought her back to something forbidden or pleasant, or something questionable in between. Something confusing. “None of it matters now anyway.”

“But it does,” James said, sweeping his glass of brandy through the air for emphasis. “Because you’re here, yes? In my house. Caring for a man who does not love you.”

Angelica snorted, knocking back the last of her drink, screwing her eyes shut. It angered her to feel a tear tumble down her cheek. She brushed it off like nothing had happened, turned around to face James and spoke with fragile conviction. 

“And what do you know of love?”

She eyed him stiffly up and down, chin raised like a shield of spite, then stomped past him to pour herself another brandy.

James caught her wrist and snatched her down on his lap. He ignored her half-hearted thrashing and the snappy “let go of me!”, holding her in place as he calmly set his glass down next to him, on the sofa.

Sprawled beside him, almost mockingly, was the morning paper. He crumpled it slowly into a composed fist and raised it in front of Angelica’s face, narrowing his eyes like she better listen carefully. 

“I know that this… this isn’t love.”

He lowered the paper a little, searched her face for a reaction, then grunted a nod and let it fall to her lap. Angelica didn’t flinch and kept her eyes forward, too stubborn and too startled by the way he held her. 

“I also know,” James continued, speaking close to her shoulder, very aware of the rise and fall of her chest, “- that whatever that man did to you… or however he made you feel -” now he loosened the grip on her wrist, thumbing the soft skin over her vulnerable veins, “- was not out of love.”

She could have sworn he glanced at her lips then, and the part of her that felt trapped seconds ago, no longer wished to move away from him.

“Power - and lies…” James whispered theatrically, so raw and soft at the same time, like he was relieved but sorry to tell her the truth about dear Mr Homburg. “That’s all it was, Allie.”

He watched her swallow, chin still raised as she refused to look him in the eyes, but the skin around her collarbones flushed at the use of her childhood nickname.

James kindly lowered her wrist onto her lap and withdrew his hand to lean back into the sofa. With a grunt he clasped his hands high on his chest, as if making a point of keeping them away from her. His eyes however, were locked on her. Unblinking, unwavering. Knowing.

Angelica didn’t move from his lap. Maybe out of spite or stubbornness. Maybe for other reasons. 

The sputtering of the fire seemed louder, closer, as if the room had turned into a giant hearth, enveloping them in teasing, flickering heat. James found himself contemplating - no… admiring - her beautiful curls. They suddenly looked softer, heavier, there for him to touch, as they moved up and down with her chest. 

His eyes shot to her hands as she scratched the spot on her wrist where he had touched her. James inhaled slowly through his nose and Angelica opened her mouth to say something, and when she spoke, her words were as breathless as she looked. 

“Why were you there, James?”

“Hm?” he grunted, deeply absorbed by her fingers, stroking her wrist now rather than scratching.

“Why were you there in the first place? At the party?”

He scowled and made a noise that suggested he wasn’t in the mood to answer. It made her feel like he wanted, and waited, for her to figure it out on her own.

She glanced at him sideways, his gaze flicked up to meet hers, and her neck flared up again.

This time James couldn’t help himself.

Head tilted slightly to the side, he reached out to brush a thick lock over her shoulder, humming a noise of approval when she visibly shuddered at his touch. 

“I think you know…” he said, letting his hand ghost along the length of her hair, so very tempted to swirl a lock around his finger. 

“James, you -” that’s when his other hand came to rest on her thigh, his palm all warm and heavy.

She closed her eyes and another unexpected tear rolled down her cheek, brimming with anger and relief at the same time. His touch had made her clutch her knees, as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands or needed support to sit up straight. 

“You should’ve told me,” she breathed, cursing the way her dress felt restricting with each rise and fall of her chest.

“But I did,” he said candidly, his right hand coming to rest on her upper back, thumbing her shoulder blade as if reminding her of all the years he’d cared for her.

It was a calming gesture that did nothing to calm her, as their eyes met briefly and James began to sit up. Eyeing her chest and neck, he claimed her space, weaving his head like a patient, curious snake in no rush to proceed. 

“No,” she said, gripping her knees and looking ahead of her, refusing to acknowledge how close he was and how she wanted him even closer. “It’s not fair, I’ve… I never knew what you wanted. How you felt or -”

“Oh I wanted everything…” he murmured in a dark lilt and slid a soft palm up the back of her neck. “Mhm?” He looked up at her under raised eyebrows, forehead creased as if asking for permission to continue, or to tell her there was no going back after this confession. “With you.”

James thumbed the back of her neck, nodded and added: “I still do.”

Without startling her, he brushed the newspaper off her lap. There was nothing intimidating to the action, only conclusive, like it was no longer of any use and had been sitting there for far too long.

“Why don’t you, put that on the fire, then come back here, and sit with me.”

When Angelica didn’t answer, he pressed his palm against her lower back, urging her to stand up. To make a decision.

As if James had been waiting all this time to say it, he dipped his head towards her ear, so close she could feel his breath, and whispered:

“Go on now. Burn it.”

[lyralu91]

🖤 Inbox open for fanfic requests - James Delaney 🖤

After finishing my "Taboo" fanfiction ("The river that connects us" - link here!) I've decided to open my inbox for James Delaney requests! ✍🏻🤓

I'm only doing this as a side thing/fun thing/no pressure thing, partially to keep my writing going but mainly because I want to see more James fics out there and encourage others to give it a go! 🤗

To start with I'm up for writing

Drabbles

Imagines/short scenes

Oneshots (max 4 000 words).

If you want smut or porn I won't write anything I personally find degrading (this is best discussed in pm's where we focus on an actual scene/story you have in mind 😉).

I'm TOTALLY up for writing more James and Lorna as well! Set during/after "Taboo", or during/after my fanfiction! 😍

[lyralu91]

I miss them so much already! 😭❤️

— danagray

[lyralu91]

James my love ❤️ Your little chuckle gets me every time 🥹 Episode six of "Taboo" (2017)

[lyralu91]

LAST chapter - The river that connects us

Dearest readers, we have reached the very end of our story! 😭🎉

In my epilogue we pick up four years after the last chapter and you get to meet a certain someone "properly" for the first time.

You will also get a glimpse into the Delaney household, and to wrap things up there will be some good old sexy times... 😌

I really hope you enjoy it! Sorry for the wait! ❤️

Somehow, at least for me, this doesn't feel like the end at all! 🥹❤️

And on that note, I hereby open my inbox for James fic requests! (separate post with info coming shortly!)

Thank you for reading and supporting me! 👏🏻🥳❤️

You've all encouraged me to finish this book (yup, it really IS a book!) and now I'll go on to write my first original work! Hugs n love! 🥰

[lyralu91]

🌹

Tag by @discocritic:

For every "🌹" received in my inbox i'll post one random sentence of a random WIP i'm currently writing! ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

“Oh but I own it. I own the trees and the rocks and all the animals that try to hide in it...”

From a scene where James meets Julia, one of my OC's! 🐺🌲🏹

[lyralu91]

James agrees. We love hearing from you! ❤️

To my readers:

If your comment is long and rambling and full of quotes you enjoyed, I will love it.

If your comment is full of story related questions, I will love it.

If your comment is a single sentence, I will love it.

If your comment is a single emoji, or a string of them, I will love it.

If you comment, I will love it. It's that simple.

[lyralu91]

HOW HAVE I NOT SEEN THIS BEFORE???!!! 😭🥹❤️ @oyemija @justrainandcoffee @hoodeddreams13 (but yes, ignore the vape 🫣😂)

[lyralu91]

New chapter up - The river that connects us

First of all I want to apologise for the awful delay (how has it been more than a month?!) but it's finally time for tears and conclusions, dear readers. Tears and conclusions...

I hope this one will feel worth the wait! ❤️

Prepare yourself for a looong chapter (9k words!) of fluff and feels and basically, the end of our story.

WE ONLY HAVE ONE MORE CHAPTER NOW! 😭❤️

“Do you understand the violence it took to become this gentle? And the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.”

- Nitya Prakash

[tomhardyspinkyfinger]

Hey how’s it going 🥰🥰🥰 34. why are you so cold? 77..“i’ve been thinking about you all day.” For James Delaney please??

You quite literally were one of the only people keeping James Delaney alive. Brace did everything he could but the hardheaded man only ever listened to you.

You were his maid, but sometimes it felt more like you were his mother. On this particular night, the house was swarmed with anxiety. James hadn't come home the previous night, and you and Brace searched all of London with no such luck.

Both of you came home with your tails between your legs and stood shocked, staring at none other than James Delaney nursing a glass of whiskey in the den. You threw down your coat and caught his attention.

"Where the hell have you been? Brace and I have been worried sick all day, James." You seethed. James had yet to look at either of you, his stony eyes glaring into the fire.

"Out." He spoke. You scoffed.

"Out where? You couldn't have checked in with us?" You exclaimed. James stood from his chair and stormed up to you, eyes blazing.

"You'd like that wouldn't you? Constantly pining over my attention the way you do." James bit out, venom laced in his tone.

"Why are you so cold? You are a cold hearted man, James Delaney. Brace and I have been worried and searching all day! I’ve been thinking about you all day, the way I do every day when I'm cleaning your wounds and keeping you alive. You're a spiteful and ungrateful man, James. I am done pining over a man who does not respect me. I am leaving, see how long you last without me James." You ranted, tears brimming your eyes. Like expected, James said nothing, and you weren't going to stand around hoping he'd fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

You stormed upstairs to begin packing, and Brace followed after a shameful shake of the head in James's direction.

James had really done it this time.

[lyralu91]

The endless conversations I imagine they have ❤️

Simone de Beauvoir, from "Inseraparable: A Never Before Published Novel,"

[lyralu91]

Literally me right now, questioning every single sentence 🫣😂 (at least the wine helps me laugh about it!)

revising your writing is just like "is this weird. is this a weird sentence. is this the weirdest most poorly-worded sentence ever written by anyone" and the sentence in question is "he walked across the room"

[fairlylocaldreamer]

Quote on edit @katefullergecko 🖤