#make up for lost time

[intrepidacious]

make up for lost time

summary: Months after your last encounter, you meet James again … and this time, that precious tension between you snaps.

pairing: james norrington x f!reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), bathing, body worship, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), light breeding kink 🤭 underlying angst; infidelity with permission? it makes sense in context; i was ovulating while writing this and it shows; please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: you all can blame thank @wildlivelychild for this one because i hadn't planned on writing another part for when reality sets back in but here we are 😌🫶🏼 this can 100% be read as a standalone since it's mostly just me being feral. bon appétit.

masterlist | read on ao3

Reasonable happiness, you thought, wasn't made for people like you.

You, who preferred life in extremes, ecstatic highs and heartbreaking lows, your days filled with so much emotion you were left breathless. Instead, you got what society preferred for women of your station: the mediocre hum of social obligations and daily errands.

That made you lucky, of course. Not many were afforded a comfortable life. You knew countless young women who would’ve killed to fill your shoes, and you were content, really, just … secretly, foolishly, you’d allowed yourself to hope for more.

You tried not to think of James.

Even with your husband talking about the Caribbean, you tried not to listen, not to let your mind wander to the eve of your engagement banquet. Not when the talk of London society had exploded with a certain Commodore’s disgraceful resignation from His Majesty’s Navy only shortly afterwards.

You’d tried to reach out to him when it happened, but you never knew whether your worried letters still found him at his family’s adress. No response ever made it back to you. Like everyone, you supposed him lost at sea, helpless to find out anything more lest you draw any unwanted attention to yourself.

As it was, you felt like you were living in limbo; waiting for something you knew would never happen.

Until that night.

Months had passed at that point, and you’d all but given up any hope that your husband would show renewed interest in producing an heir. Your nights were spent alone, huddled up under several blankets against the shocking London cold. It was getting harder to fall asleep like this; your memories kept chasing sleep away from you.

It was because of this that you didn’t know at first if you were already dreaming when you heard the knock on your door.

After hearing your yawn of assent, your maid slipped into the room, lighting the candle on your bedside table with the one she was carrying.

"There’s a man downstairs," she whispered. "Mr Dalton found him in front of the gates, carrying this."

You blinked sleepily at the note in front of you, your husband’s wax seal closing the paper. He’d been away on his political campaign for a little over a week now, and you hadn’t heard from him since his departure. This message, delivered by a mysterious man at such a late hour, was more than unusual.

You sat up in bed and cracked the letter open, blinking at the words as they sent a wave of shock through you.

Take care of him, darling. T.H.

There was no longer any doubt in your mind that you were awake, after all, because your heart was beating so fast you could feel it in your toes, because a couple of things became clear to you instantly. One, you knew without a shadow of a doubt who the man downstairs was. Two, that despite his frequent absences, your husband was a lot more attentive than even you would’ve given him credit for. And three, that with only a few incongruous words, he’d given you a blessing you would’ve never dared ask for.

All this you realised at an instance because of one single, undeniable truth: Your husband had never once called you darling.

"Go to bed, Mina," you said, slipping into your dressing gown. "I’ll see to this."

The floor was cold underneath your bare feet as you slipped out of the room, almost in a trance. You weren’t certain whether to hurry down or to take a moment to compose yourself, your thoughts impatient and loud and alive.

You felt like you were breathing for the first time in months.

Still, there was a second where you believed there’d been a mistake, after all, because you barely recognised the man in your entryhall. His hair was wild, his clothes rugged and dirty, like he’d not changed them in weeks.

You’d know his eyes anywhere, though. They watched you carefully as you descended the stairs, a tether leading you straight towards him.

They always had.

"James," you whispered, and he lowered his head at the sound of your voice.

"Milady," he said. Nothing else.

He kept his back straight, but he held his arms stiffly at his sides, a shadow of the confident man you once knew. A million questions demanded to tumble out of your mouth; what had happened to him, where had he gone, was it true what they said, what did they do to him?

Instead, you took a step closer. "You must be exhausted," you said, keeping your voice soft; he deserved as much.

James didn’t reply, but when you reached for his hand, he let you, following you upstairs.

It was too late to ring for hot water, but your tub was still filled. He stared at it blankly, not comprehending.

"Do you need anything?" you asked.

The door was closed behind you. You’d never, you realised, been entirely alone in a room with any man but your husband, let alone led him to your private quarters. Still, you couldn’t find it in you to feel anything but right about what was happening.

James stared at you for a long while, as if trying to decipher your actions. "… Why?" he finally said.

There were a thousand reasons that you could give him, a lot of them completely innocent. But you weren’t in the habit of lying to James Norrington, and so you settled on the most honest one.

His fingers were still curled around yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and so you lifted his hand to your lips and pressed a kiss to his palm. Slow, lingering. A poor expression of everything you’d never been allowed to say.

"You know why."

His eyes were dark when you stepped in front of him, but he made no attempt to move. Gently, your hand shaking, you reached for his jacket, easing the dirt-crusted sleeves off his shoulders. It pooled at his feet.

You hovered over the buttons of his waistcoat, glanced at his face again to find him frowning, but not objecting as you undid them one by one. Next, his belt fell to the floor with a heavy thud. You eased his shirt out of his pants and he helped you in pulling it over his head. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out.

There were scards and bruises scattered across his torso, remnants of battles and fights that the good people of society would tell grand tales about. In his skin, they were real, though, not just mere stories but lived memory.

How did one not linger on that?

You knelt to undo his boots, one by one, and when you looked up at him, James was staring at the ceiling, his chest falling heavily. His hands flexed at his sides in a way that seemed to you near painful.

You went to tug at his pants and he caught your wrist with a hiss. "Darling …"

There it was again, that little endearment that had always been his. Heat bloomed in your chest at the sound of it.

"It’s all right," you whispered. "We’re safe."

"Your husband—"

"Knows."

The word shifted the air between you. Apprehension still clung to him like a second skin, but something in it cracked.

You were still on your knees, and he didn’t let go of you for a long while before he caught himself.

"I should …"

You nodded as he turned around to swiftly strip off his pants and underthings and step into the tub. He shuddered at the cold, his his back muscles rippling.

Any other time, it might have let you feel powerful, seeing him naked mere inches away from you while you were still in your night clothes. Not this, though.

There was an intimacy to this moment that transcended such notions.

The water splashed as James washed himself with quick, methodical movements. Even if you’d tried, you probably wouldn’t have been able to look away. Finally, he dunked his head in, staying under the surface for such a long time you started to grow worried. But then he emerged again, his hair sticking to his forehead, and you reached out to push it aside. To your surprise, he leaned into your touch.

You reached for a wash cloth and dipped it into the water, using it to gently scrub leftover grime off his beautiful face. His eyes held yours the entire time, unsure and yet burning.

Oh, those eyes. You still wanted to drown in them.

Almost without noticing, you leaned in closer, watching him for any sign of hesitation. There was none left; only that sweet, unspoken thing that had been cautiously granted room at last.

No words were exchanged. This had been such a long time coming.

Your lips brushed his, barely a kiss, barely a touch at all. You moved back to look at him and found his eyes had fluttered shut.

You gently bumped your nose against his before kissing him again. Slowly, these delicate touches deepened, until James groaned softly into your mouth and you let him in.

He kissed you like it was a dance, carefully orchestrated without a push too close, meeting you halfway. Your hands moved to his chest, and you could feel his erratic heartbeat under your fingertips. The sensation was enough to make you dizzy, but you were in no rush to speed things along. You’d waited your entire life for this.

Gradually, his kisses grew more intense, his tongue pushing deeper, wanting, craving. He wrapped an arm around you to pull you closer, swallowing the gasp you let out when water seeped through your shift. Desire pooled in your belly, growing until it sank into your very bones, every thought consumed by James.

You caught his lip between your teeth and there was a loud splash of water as he surged.

"We should," he started, trailing off again, his eyes dilated as he took you in, your chest soaking wet and practically transparent. He shivered and you smiled, reaching for a towel.

"Let’s get you warmed up, Commodore."

Mina must’ve noticed the cold in your rooms, because there was a gentle fire crackling in your bedroom. The curtains were drawn and you locked the door behind you, leaning against it as you looked at James. He took it all in with a tick in his jaw.

"What is it?" you asked.

"I just …" He shook his head, gesturing towards the room. "You deserve this. Whenever I think about what a fool I’ve been, I remind myself that you would’ve lost everything as soon as I did. And I’m glad." He stepped up to you. "Even if we’d never met again, I would’ve been glad because I couldn’t have lived with myself if I’d brought you ruin."

Your heart was pounding wildly and you reached out to cup his jaw, gently tracing the rough beard.

"Oh, James," you said quietly. "There’s no ruin in loving you."

When he kissed you again, there was a new hunger to it, an unleashed sense of wanting. His hand came up to protect your head as it fell back against the door, the other helping you to untangle your dressing gown, undo the fastenings of your chemise. His fingertips traced every inch of your skin as it was revealed to him, reverently, like he was mapping out the shape of you by touch alone.

Soon, his lips trailed down your neck, your collarbone. You gasped when they latched onto one of your nipples, gently sucking while his hand cupped your other breast, teasing the little bud until you trembled.

Lower and lower, until finally, he was the one on his knees blinking up at you, his eyes dark and questioning.

You threaded your fingers into his hair and pulled him in.

A broken moan left your lips when his tongue swept across your sex, like he was sampling your taste. Your legs widened to grant him better access and he moved even closer, trailing open-mouthed kisses along your folds, your mound, teasing your entrance. His beard rubbed deliciously against the most delicate parts of you, his attentions so close to where you needed them most.

This was torture.

"Please," you whispered, and he looked up at you, your slick glistening on his chin. There was a dazed look to him, like he was witnessing something beyond his comprehension.

"Show me," he urged, and you dipped one finger inside yourself and then rubbed it over your clitoris, quick circles that made you shudder with delight. When you looked at James again, his eyes were fixated on your every movement.

Without hesitation, he took your finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue across it like he couldn’t get enough of your taste. It released from his mouth with a gentle pop, and for a moment you couldn’t help but trace his swollen lips.

When he moved in again this time, he immediately found your clit, carefully flicking it with his tongue before sucking it between his lips. You gasped and he repeated the motion, applying just a little more pressure. You felt his fingers play at your entrance, probing softly before slipping inside. Your hips jerked against his face and he groaned, the sound a low vibration against your cunt that made your head spin.

In no time at all, he’d learned the sounds of you, expertly licking and rubbing until it all became too much. You slapped a hand across your mouth to stifle a breathless whine as you came, legs shaking, your release soaking him.

You trembled as you clenched around his fingers, the sensation too much and not enough at the same time. When the pleasure subsided, he was still languidly lapping at your cunt, his hand rubbing soothing circles against your thigh.

You tugged on his hair until he gazed up at you through half-hooded eyes, his cheeks hot and pink, his breaths heavy. You stumbled against him, lips crashing. The taste of yourself on his tongue made you moan.

You weren’t sure how you made it to the bed. You only knew the weight of him on top of you, your back arching into the mattress as his cock was trapped between your bodies, hot and leaking.

"James," you sighed and his hips stuttered against yours like he hadn’t expected to hear his name from your lips. "I need you."

He stilled coming up on one elbow to look at you, really look at you; maybe for the first time tonight, or ever. You felt yourself grow flustered under his earnest attention, squirming underneath the weight of him.

"Are you certain, darling?"

Four words that warmed you even more than his intense gaze.

"I want you more than anything else, James Norrington."

He groaned as he kissed you again, blindly adjusting your positions. He rubbed against your entrance and you wanted to cry with need.

"Look at me," he said.

You did, desperately, and he pushed inside you.

Your eyes wanted to roll back but you kept them on his face. There was so much emotion displayed on it; admiration, want, disbelief, awe. You’d never been looked at like this. You felt so full.

Again, he rocked into you, his pace picking up as you warmed up to the feel of him. Your mouths met again, open, breathless. One of his hands cupped your cheek, gently carressing it.

"God, you’re perfect," he murmured against your lips. "I don’t think I can—"

Your ankles locked around his back and you both groaned as he sank even deeper into you at the new angle. Each of his thrusts rubbed against your clit in the most delicious way.

"Inside," you panted. "I want you inside."

What a polite way of saying that you were going to die if you didn’t feel James Norrington spill into you. It was unlikely that anything would result of your encounter but you were suddenly desperate to try fate.

"Can we …?"

You would never find out if there was a second part to that question or whether he was simply asking for permission, because you clenched around him and he lost his thought with a broken groan. He thrust into you a couple more times before he came, swearing and praising you, good, so good, oh shit, please, so god-damn beautiful, my beautiful girl.

You were so close to the brink just from witnessing him come undone above you.

Finally, his praises slowed, as did his movements, and he pulled out of you with a last moan of pleasure. You whined at the loss of him, already mourning your orgasm.

James sat back on his knees, enthralled by the sight of his seed trickling out of you. He pushed it back inside with his fingers and you thought you would lose your mind. He kept fucking into you with his fingers, your slick mixing with his cum. You’d never felt so sensitive in your life, every new touch filling you with fire. You were flailing until you felt his other hand on your stomach, holding you down.

"Gorgeous," you heard, and then his tongue flicked over your clit again, torture in a different way.

This time, you came with a loud cry, his hand the only tethering you to the bed, to reality.

He collapsed next to you, gathering you in his arms, kissing your face, his beard tickling you until you smiled.

"You know, I really don’t recall the last time I’ve seen you quite this satisfied," he said, and you laughed.

For a few precious moments, the world was perfect.

Then, you remembered that there was more to it than just the two of you.

"How long do we get?" you whispered, listening to his heartbeat.

James pressed another kiss to your forehead. "There’s a ship to take me back across the Atlantic."

You tightened your hold on him. "Do you have to take it?"

"According to Thomas, it’s that or the Tower."

"I’ll come with you."

His thumb kept rubbing circles into your skin. "No, darling. You won’t."

And despite how much you wanted to protest, something inside you knew that he was probably right. You’d only make him more of a traitor in the eyes of good British society.

"How long?" you said again.

"Three days."

"Three days …" Not a lot when you wanted lifetimes. Eons. But you weren’t going to waste them wishing for a different ending when he was right there with you. "I suppose we should make the most of that."

He looked at you, like nobody else ever had, and then he smiled.

as you can tell by the existence of this piece, leaving comments on the things you enjoy can really pay off 😌 either way thank you for reading!! for more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications. yo ho ho my loves 🫶🏼

[howifeltabouthim]

It's just, sometimes I feel like the whole last decade was a wash for me . . . Like I'm starting over from scratch, and so everything needs to be exactly right as soon as possible to make up for lost time.

Emily Henry, from Funny Story

[intrepidacious]

mwah love u 🥰

Masterlist of fics I’ve read for the March Fic Maddness Event hosted by @the-blind-assassin-12. I didn’t get to read as much as I wanted this month as I have been travelling a lot for work, but these are all wonderful fics I would highly recommend 💚

💚 Bucky Barnes 💚

Plus One Problems Series by @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Rescue Series by @mindingmyownbusiness

Barnsey x Clover of the Lucky Charms AU by @yenzys-lucky-charm

Jealous Bucky by @graysonfics

A Soul With No King by @thereoncewasagirlnamedjane

Requiem by @/thereoncewasagirlnamedjane

Humiliation by @marvelstoriesepic

Soft Spot by @/marvelstoriesepic

This is Love by @jobean12-blog

Cookie Crumbles by @/jobean12-blog

Love Bug by @/jobean12-blog

I’ll Be Okay by @navybrat817

Shared Desk Part Two by @bjwmastermind-writes

Never Casual by @malum-forev

Forbidden Love by @saiyanprincessswanie

Birthday Boy by @buck-star

Overwhelmed by @just-dreaming-marvel

💚 Steve Rogers 💚

Take the Ache Series by @anika-ann

Artist!Steve by @treatbuckywkisses

Cryptology by @darsynia

Mistaken Soulmates by @nekoannie-chan

Sick Of It by @bigtreefest

Mischievous Monday Thought by @mercurial-chuckles

Stronger Together by @eulalielatibule

💚 Stucky 💚

To Be Alright by @/thereoncewasagirlnamedjane

💚 Joaquin Torres 💚

Nightmares by @fireinmoonshot

First Impressions by @/fireinmoonshot

In His Hands by @nathanbatemanfucker

💚 Joel Miller 💚

Work It Out by @/jobean12-blog

Late? by @holacia3

💚 Johnny Storm 💚

Sweet Talk by @witchywithwhiskey

Gifted by @intrepidacious

💚 James Norrington 💚

Make Up For Lost Time by @/intrepidacious

[greater-than-the-sword]

This is a controversial take that everyone will hate but it's one thing to feed your kid better, more wholesome food than twinkies and hot pockets daily, it's another thing to force them to adhere to a crunchy granola beige colored diet where they cant share the snacks their peers are eating or have a normal childhood or have fun. None of you were raised like that and if you were you know what im talking about.

[egophiliac]

still ruminating over Lost In the Book With Spooky Skeletons Part 1, so here's a selection of some of my favorite little bits! (...some more loosely paraphrased than others) (I just feel like Idia has no room to criticize in general, okay)

anyway, I'm sure we're just going to have a fun time celebrating Halloween and nothing bad is going to happen whatsoever! :)

[wisefoxluminary]

They have the purest father and daughter relationship. The way they are looking at each other with so much love. I think I'll cry.

[cashmoneydickswag]

Today I stayed inside and I regret it now cos it was actually a pleasant day.

[poppitron360]

You can tell how much Odysseus wants to go back and be a father to Telemachus when he tells the cyclops “I’m so glad we see eye to eye.”

Like dude’s been practicing his dad jokes he is READY-

[shushmal]

Steve watched Eddie's van turn the corner and shut the front door, closing himself away from the outside world so none of his neighbors could see him as he rested his forehead against the painted wood.

"I'm not going to cry," he told himself.

He said it even as his eyes began to burn and his face began to twist, teeth grinding and throat closing. He wiped quickly at his face, again and again, as he stumbled to the couch to sit, drying each tear as it rolled down his cheeks, clinging to his jaw.

"I'm not going to fucking cry," Steve choked, and then doubled over into himself, arms around his thighs, and he began to sob.

So what if he was twenty-two, living in his parent's house alone, working the same dead-end job with a sixteen year old manager. So what if all his friends and family were in college, spread out from New York to Chicago to Los Angeles. So what if his boyfriend was moving to Seattle for his band and they broke up, because Steve was never going to be his parents, resenting and being resented for keeping his partner from his dreams. So what if he was too scared to ask Eddie to stay, to ask Eddie if Steve could go with him. So what if everyone moved on and Steve couldn't?

Steve grew up lonely. He could get used to it again.

He didn't realize how hard he was crying until the front door burst back open and Eddie hurled himself at Steve's feet, long limbed and clumsy and babbling.

"Baby, oh fuck, I'm sorry," he said, already untangling Steve from himself, tying all his loose ends back up together with his until they were a knot of their own. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Stevie. I never should have— I wanted to—"

"I'm sorry," Steve sobbed back. He gasped and swallowed it all back down. Eddie had already gotten them raveled up again, it would take forever to pick it back apart. Steve knew it would hurt worse this time. "Fuck, Ed, you didn't have to— I'll be okay, I don't want to hold you back—"

"Come with me," Eddie burst.

And Steve couldn't help himself, and began to sob again.

"Please," Eddie begged over Steve's crying, his voice shaking and his face wet enough to match Steve's. "Please, sweetheart, honey, please just come with me?"

Steve took a shaky breath, embarrassed and now too full of hope and fear. "You sure?" he whispered. He pressed his face into Eddie's neck, breathing him in again for what might be the last time, again. "Eddie, don't—"

"I'm so sure," Eddie said. "I'm so fucking sure, Steve, please."

"Okay," Steve breathed. Eddie had always been the braver of the two of them, especially when it counted. Steve leaned back so he could look at him, red faced and watery eyes. He tried to give Eddie a smile, but he knew it was wobbly and weak. "Okay."

All of Steve's fears meant nothing as he watched the happiness break like dawn over Eddie's face.

[scriblesandbits]

So god created us in his image, right? And that’s cool and all but what if it turns out god, like, hates his own image??? What then????

[ph-cutie]

america's top 10 babies

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 345

Let it be known that none of them actually expected the idiots’ of the week’s ritual to work. The summoning hadn’t worked for literal centuries- everyone knew it had been sealed away, presumably forever!

(Of course they had no way to know that in the Infinite Realms actually used the term forever as a measurement of time, what with how time itself wasn’t particularly linear within. And to beings that could hypothetically live for eternity? Forever was a nice vacation time really) 

So maybe they hadn’t been exactly focused on stopping the ritual as much as they could of been, and by the time they realized it was working, well, it’d been a bit too late then. So yes, mistakes had perhaps in fact, been made. 

First had come the chill, the cold of the ground as your body was lowered down, the cold of your blood dripping from your living corpse. Then came the shadows, the darkness creeping along their vision as their soul slipped from their body. Followed by boiling heat, flames scorching through their flesh and tearing from their chests like a blade piercing their hearts. 

The form that emerged was massive, a cloak dripping crimson fluttering in the wind of an unseen battlefield, verdant flames licking at the air and causing the surrounding shadows to writhe. A dark growl echoed through the building, the stone below them shaking while deathly green eyes glowered down at the living with utter contempt. 

“Do any of you imbeciles know how long it takes to get ghostlings to sleep-” 

[forgettable-au]

Finally working on pages again, wish me luck

[intothehandsoffate]

listen to me. Listen. I believe so much in fiddauthor shacking up in the mansion. E Stan.

[egophiliac]

buckle up lads we're going BACK INTO THE BOOK

[demico-art]

Fantober 2024 Day 22 - "Childhood" "Ford even found an old film reel of them as kids, which he amazingly saved all these years. There are clips of them playing on the beach, goofing around at the dinner table and pawn shop, and dressing as explorers in oversized helmets trying to find the “Jersey Devil.”" -Journal 3