#james delaney angst

[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

[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

[tomhardyspinkyfinger]

Masterlist

Here's my masterlist!! I'll update as a post more! My requests are pretty much always open but if I get too many at once it might take me a while to finish. I write for pretty much any Hardy character!

Alfie Solomons:

Series:

Part 1: While she was Sleeping

Part 2: The Dinner Date

Part 3: Moving In

Part 4: A Simple Life

Part 5: Betrayal

Part 6: Margate

The Good Girl and the Gangster:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

One shots:

New Employment

Baby Fever

Work Place Romance

Tommy Conlon:

The Diner Drama

The Gym

Freddie Jackson:

Freddie Gets Caught

Dog Rescue

James Delaney:

The Man I Can't Kill

Reggie/Ronnie Kray:

The Kray Brothers Learn to Share

Forrest Bondurant:

The New Girl

Eddie Brock:

Risky Cases

Office Blues

Ian Eames:

Jealousy

Leo Demidov:

Series:

The Search for Anne's Island (PT. 1)

Drabbles

[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.

[dreamlandcreations]

Misc. masterlist

❌ dark(ish) ||🔥 smut || 🧸 fluff/soft ||⚡ angst || 💔 soulmate!au || 🌎 au || 🎱 mention of reader’s sexual orientation || 🤍 gender neutral reader (otherwise it's probably fem reader) || ✨ reader description (mostly just implied) ||🎗miscarriage / infertility / reader not wanting kids || ❤️‍🩹 not quite angsty but it’s definitely in the “it hurts” category

•

see the

• Main Masterlist •

for Boba Fett, Santiago Garcia, Andromache, The Darkling, Billy Russo, Outcome 3, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Alfie Solomons, Bishop Losa, Eddie Munson, Stranger Things (Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Billy Hargrove, Max Mayfield, 11), Eames, Tommy Conlon, James Delaney, Jake “Hangman” Seresin, William “Ironhead” Miller, Xenk Yendar, Aemond Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen, Shanks (OPLA)

•

Star Wars

Jango Fett

Just a simple man - Jango Fett x half alien!Reader

Summary: You save him and he shows you there is more to life than fighting…

Meeting • Trust • Stay 🔥🧸 • Life 🔥🧸 • Death⚡

Speak Freely (epilogue of Just a simple man) ⚡🧸 - Boba Fett x half alien!Reader

Summary: Boba hasn’t spoken Mando'a since the death of his father…

Darth Maul

Beauty and the Beast - Darth Maul x Queen of Naboo!Reader ⚡

Summary: Maul is tasked to keep you in line while his master’s plan comes together on Coruscant…

Marvel

Bucky Barnes

Imagine: Birthday Party, Avenger style

True Love’s Kiss - Steve x Bucky, (Steve x Natasha) 🔥⚡🧸🌎

Summary: The King of Northern America is engaged to the beautiful Princess Natasha of the Russian Empire, too bad he is falling for someone else…

Happily Ever After (part 2 of TLK) - Steve x Bucky, (Steve x Natasha) ❌🔥⚡🧸🌎

Summary: Wanda returns to have her revenge…

Steve Rogers

True Love’s Kiss - Steve x Bucky, (Steve x Natasha) 🔥⚡🧸🌎

Summary: The King of Northern America is engaged to the beautiful Princess Natasha of the Russian Empire, too bad he is falling for someone else…

Happily Ever After (part 2 of TLK) - Steve x Bucky, (Steve x Natasha) ❌🔥⚡🧸🌎

Summary: Wanda returns to have her revenge…

Tony Stark

Doctor Strange

Pietro Maximoff

Erik Killmonger

Loki

Grinch green - Loki x Maximoff!Reader

Summary: Being paired up on a mission with Loki ends up changing your relationship with the moody god…

Elektra

Casual fun - Elektra x Reader 🔥(🎱)

Summary: Riding high on adrenaline, you find something else to ride too…

Matt Murdock

Thor

Imagine: Birthday Party, Avenger style

X-Men

Erik Lehnsherr

Charles Xavier

Remy LeBeau

Apocalypse

Lord of the Rings

Thranduil

Legolas

Haldir

Éomer

Foundation

Brother Day

Day & Night - Brother Day x Reader ❌🔥⚡🧸

Summary: You can’t resist a challenge and what could be more daring than changing the fate of an Empire but you didn’t calculate with the obstinate nature of Day…

Triple Frontier

Benny Miller

Little Miller - Benny Miller x Will’s BFF!Reader 🔥

Summary: You are Will’s new bestie and everyone (except the two of you) thinks you’re gonna end up together but your love-hate relationship with his lil’ bro takes an interesting turn when you find out his call sing, that they never actually use…

Dog Soldiers series (Love, Death & Robots - Shape-Shifters AU)

Part 3 - Benny Miller

Gentlemen

Raymond Smith

A deal is a deal - Ray Smith x half Asian!Reader 🌎

Bribing • The Offer • Deal • Business🔥⚡ • Pleasure 🔥🧸 •  All’s fair… 🧸

Summary: You make an offer and you get yourself a Ray of Sunshine with the deal…

This is a terrible idea - Ray Smith x aristocrat!Reader

King Arthur - Legend of the Sword

King Arthur

All Hallows Eve - King Arthur x mage!Reader ⚡🧸

Summary: Staying at the castle, you train Arthur so he can wield the sword properly. When All Hallows Eve arrives, the dead wants to be heard…

The Legend of his Queen (part 2 of AHE) - King Arthur x mage!Reader ⚡🔥🧸

Summary: You fell in love with the King, even though you knew his destiny was to fall for someone else…

Good Omens

Crowley

Aziraphale

Vikings

Ragnar

Ubbe

Ivar

Teen Wolf

Derek Hale

We are even - Derek Hale x hunter!Reader

Summary: You work with the Argents but you play by your own rules…

Chris Argent

Enola Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

Bride (to lover) - Sherlock Holmes x Reader 🔥⚡🧸

Summary: A marriage of convenience. You never expected it to be anything else…

Narnia

Caspian

*Dating the Darkling / Billy Russo / Logan Delos / Caspian / +Sirius Black headcanon 🔥⚡🧸

made up fic title: The Summer Prince

Witcher

Geralt

Vilgefortz

Darkness Within series - Vilgefortz x Calanthe’s daughter!Reader ❌🔥⚡

Summary: He found you when your mother sentenced you to death, he took you in and taught you everything you know, then he found out just how special you are…

Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon

Robb Stark

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

Summary: Stranger, betrothed, enemy, prisoner, wife, lover, traitor, saviour, captor…

Tyrion Lannister

Alicent Hightower

Imagine Alicent seducing you...

Star Trek

Khan

Spock

Bones

James Bond (No Time to Die)

Paloma

The Enemy of My Enemy - Paloma x Villain!Reader 🔥⚡

Summary: Your relationship with her is complicated but you have to take aside your differences because Bond needs you both to save the world this time…

Harry Potter (Marauders/Fantastic Beasts )

Sirius Black

*Dating the Darkling / Billy Russo / Logan Delos / Caspian / +Sirius Black headcanon 🔥⚡🧸🤍

made up fic title: Serpent's Heart

Percival Graves

Westworld

Logan Delos

*Dating the Darkling / Billy Russo / Logan Delos / Caspian / +Sirius Black headcanon 🔥⚡🧸

Venom

Eddie/Venom

*Misery loves company - Venom x Reader x Eddie

Summary: You harbour Eddie’s fugitive ass and put up living with the dysfunctional couple because you became friends with Venom after he saved your life.

Peaky Blinders

Tommy Shelby

Zablife Story Share - Chapter 6 Tommy Shelby x Solomons!Reader, written for @zablife's Story Share collab

Summary: A few months ago Tommy woke up to find his wife gone, along with half his fortune. Now he is prepared to make a deal with the devil himself if he can get her back...

Imagine Tommy coming to you all bloody after meeting with Alfie

John Shelby

Polly Gray

made up fic title: The Devil's Gift

Mad Max

Max

Hero - Max x Reader 🤍

Inuyasha

Sesshōmaru

Imagine being some kind of cat yōkai

Imagine that you are the daughter of Ryūkotsusei

Imagine dying from poison

Kraven the Hunter

Sergei Kravinoff

Temptation

Silver Silence

changeling!Sergei Kravinoff x Carter!Reader (Psy-Changeling AU)

Summary: Control. Precision. Family. These are the principles that drive the youngest Carter, who is the director of the new agency that is meant to protect the three races and the fragile peace between them. If only the new leader of a powerful predatory changeling pack wasn’t so distracting and destructing…

TRESE

Maliksi

Sandman

The Corinthian

Imagine the Corinthian hunting you…

Imagine Dream taking you to his realm...

Imagine being an immortal and the Corinthian falling for you...

Gen V

Jordan Li

Imagine that your power is that you are able to mimic other powers…

Imagine Jordan being too insecure to ask you out but not for the usual reason…

Imagine thinking that Jordan is trying to intimidate you…

Once Upon a Time

Cyrus

OUATIW Cyrus Scenes GIF: part 1, ...

One Piece (OPLA)

Dracule Mihawk

Imagine Mihawk finding you, a weapon maker, extremely fascinating…

Imagine that Mihawk is sent to capture you…

Imagine that Mihawk is sent to capture you… (2)

Imagine getting a reputation among the Marines because you survived a duel with Mihawk…

Imagine that you are the reason Mihawk gave up his Marine hunting ways…

made up fic title: The Girl with the Laurel Tattoo

Roronoa Zoro 

Vinsmoke Sanji

6 Underground

Billy/Four

Sons of Anarchy / Mayans M.C.

Jax Teller

made up fic title: We are what lies beyond

Angel Reyes

made up fic title: Where the squirrels burrow

[imaginesmaimasterlists]

You can request about any of the characters above, or any other masterlists I have (here), always following the Requests Rules. My main blog is @imaginesmai​

💕:Fluff

🎈: Funny

💋: Smut

😭: Angst

⭐: Personal favourite.

🥇: The most popular fic in each category (it might change).

Angst Alphabet

Fluff Alphabet

Prompt List 1

Kink-November

ROGER TAYLOR (Ben Hardy)

🥇 ⭐  Freddie’s best friend (1) (2):  💕

Being Freddie’s best friend means supporting him on everything, and being in love with Roger Taylor means suffering in silence, doesn’t it? Maybe a little trip to the fields can change that, but not in the best way (COMPLETE) 

To let you inside my heart (1) (2):   💕

When you have your heart broken, you build walls so high that no one can climb them. Roger Taylor’s purpose is to show you no walls can stop a loving heart. (ON GOING)  

What I love:   💕

Roger was a confident guy; full of girls and empty of insecurites. But now, he has a girlfriend and when an insecurity knocks at his door, all of them enter into his head.   

JON SNOW

Imagine 1

ROBB STARK

🥇  Betrothed :   💕

You have know since you were little that prince Robb Stark would be your husband one day. It’s time to meet him, and to discover if being promised to an unknown man is good or not  

Imagine 1

DAMON SALVATORE

Back to you: 

Damon and you broke up two years ago, thinking it was for the best. When a threat to your life becomes too real, he’s forced to come back for the only woman he loves

KLAUS MIKAELSON

B for Baby  😭

🥇  Imagine 1

⭐  The Painting (ANGST ALPHABET): 

Your anniversary is coming up, and Klaus is determinated to put into a painting your relationship. Someone might finish it before he gets the chance  😭

DEAN WINCHESTER

Imagine 1

Imagine 2

Love you (small drabble)  💕

🥇 ⭐  Please Don’t:  

While Dean and you’re trapped, he starts to realise that not everything is under control. 😭

Sub!Dean (November Kink)   💋

STILES

Angst Alphabet  😭

🥇  Being Liam’s older sister and having a crush on Stiles  🎈

AQUAMAN

🥇  Imagine 1

Imagine 2

EGGSY UNWIN

Imagine 1

DARYL DIXON

Imagine 1

JACE WAYLAND

Daddy Kink (November Kink) 💋

⭐  (Don’t) Care:  😭

Jace’s carefree attittude is going to have terrible consequences for once 

Strawberry:   💕

Two assholes feel the right to ruin your day, but Jace isn’t going to let that happen. 

🥇W for Weak (1) (2):   😭

Your relationship with Jace is on edge, so you decided to wait and see if things get better. Not knowing that waiting can be your death sentence. (COMPLETE)  😭

JAMES DELANEY

Devil (1) (2):   💋 😭

James isn’t sure if he loves you or he tolerates you. He trust you with something really important to find out.

MAD MAX

Imagine 1

[charliehoennam]

Soooo I’m just gonna pretend like my depression post never happened and try to be more social on this bitch so y’all are just gonna have put up with me from now lmaooo

I’ve also decided to get back to writing but I am shit out of ideas so I put this together so you can help a sister out with a writer’s block.

Here’s a list of the characters I’m willing to write for simple based on what I’ve watched (but I’m also open to suggestions):

Tom Hardy: Bane, Eames, Reggie/Ronnie Kray, John Fitzgerald, Tommy Conlon, James Delaney, Farrier, and my all time favorite jewish fluff muffin, Alfie Solomons;

Boyd Holbrook: Steve Murphy, Donald Pierce, Amos Jenkins, Quinn McKenna, Danny Maguire, Peter Kristo, William “Cap” Hatfield, Douglas Cleary, Kaden;

Pedro Pascal: Pero Tovar, Javier Peña, Oberyn Martell, Jack “Whiskey” Daniels, Ezra, Max (Bloodsucking Bastards), Francisco “Catfish” Morales;

Charlie Hunnam: Jackson Teller, Arthur Pendragon, Raymond Smith, Percy Fawcett, Henri "Papillon" Charri��re, William “Ironhead” Miller;

Jon Bernthal: Frank Castle, Shane Walsh, Griff, Grady Travis, Sam Rossi.

This list is not limited to strictly these characters, I am willing to write for other characters from the same film/show (including female) under request as well as characters from other fandoms (Vikings, Peaky Blinders, MCU, Triple Frontier)

So if you’re interested, send in a character and a number for a drabble! Don’t forget to include any detail desired (fluff, smut, angst, gender neutral reader etc).

1. “If you’re going to kill me, I suggest you do it fast.”

2. “Oh shit, you’re a virgin?”

3. “Why the hell would you be in love with me?”

4. “Having sex and making love are NOT the same.”

5. “Sober, my ass.”

6. “Your problem is you don’t know how to be loved and that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. “

7. “It’s 2:37 in the morning. What the hell are you doing here?”

8. “I am not your enemy.”

9. “Do not make me laugh right now!”

10. “It is so on now.”

11. “I told you to lock the door.”

12. “Don’t make me pull over.”

13. “I just wanted to try out something new.”

14. “It was just a bad dream.”

15. “You said I could do it!”

16. “This is what I imagine Hell is like.”

17. “No matter what, keep your eyes closed.”

18. “There’s so much blood!”

19. “Try me. I dare you.”

20. “You had one job.”

21. “This does not sound like a good idea.”

22. “I can’t believe you got me into this.”

23. “I know you feel like you’re alone, buy you’ll always have me.”

24. “Oh my God. Fire. Fire!”

25. “Can you please shut up and let me take care of you for crying out loud?”

26. “Jesus Christ. Just lemme shave it for you.”

27. “Turn the car around! This is a candy emergency. Do not fuck with me right now.”

28. “You have until the end of this cupcake to explain yourself.”

29. “You are not dying, calm down.”

30. “I am not talking about it.”

31. “Stop laughing! It’s not funny! This is painful so come help me, you dick!”

32. “We can’t just pretend everything is fine. It’s not fine!”

33. “I don’t know what I’m doing,but I think it’s working.”

34. “Don’t go in there. There’s a cockroach with wings.”

35. “How exactly this my fault?”

36. “You’re not even listening to me.”

37. “Don’t lie to me.”

38. “Look, this is new to me alright? But i swear I’m trying here.”

39. “You have 5 minutes.”

40. “You promised you wouldn’t flip out!”

41. “You’ve never slow-danced?”

42. “Say the magic words!”

43. “It looks worse than it really is.”

44. “I’m not making any promises though.”

45. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

46. “Stop looking at me like that!”

47. “I told you so.”

48. “Did I do or say something wrong?”

49. “I’m trying really hard here.”

50. “If you don’t wanna talk, it’s okay. I’m just gonna sit here in case you do. Call it moral support.”

[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.

---

[dreamlandcreations]

Other Character's list

❌ dark(er) fic

🔥 smut

⚡angst

🤍 gender neutral reader (if not marked it’s a fem reader!!!)

🎱 mention of reader’s sexual orientation

🧸fluff / soft(ish) fic

💔 soulmate AU

•

see the

• Main Masterlist •

for Boba Fett, Santiago Garcia, Andromache, The Darkling, Billy Russo, Outcome 3, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides

•

Star Wars

Jango Fett

Just a simple man - Jango Fett x half alien!Reader

Meeting • Trust • Stay 🔥🧸 • Life 🔥🧸 • Death⚡

You save him and he shows you there is more to life than fighting...

Speak Freely (epilogue of Just a simple man) ⚡🧸 - Boba Fett x half alien!Reader

Summary: Boba hasn't spoken Mando'a since the death of his father...

Darth Maul

Marvel

Bucky Barnes

True Love’s Kiss - **Steve x Bucky, **(Steve x Natasha) 🔥⚡🧸

Summary: The King of Northern America is engaged to the beautiful Princess Natasha of the Russian Empire, too bad he is falling for someone else…

Happily Ever After (part 2 of TLK) - **Steve x Bucky, **(Steve x Natasha) ❌🔥⚡🧸

Summary: Wanda returns to have her revenge...

Steve Rogers

True Love’s Kiss _ - **Steve x Bucky, **(Steve x Natasha)_ 🔥⚡🧸

Summary: The King of Northern America is engaged to the beautiful Princess Natasha of the Russian Empire, too bad he is falling for someone else…

Happily Ever After (part 2 of TLK) - **Steve x Bucky, **(Steve x Natasha) ❌🔥⚡🧸

Summary: Wanda returns to have her revenge...

Tony Stark

Doctor Strange

Pietro Maximoff

Erik Killmonger

Loki

Elektra

Casual fun - Elektra x Reader

Summary: Riding high on adrenaline, you find something else to ride too…

Matt Murdock

X-Men

Erik Lehnsherr

Charles Xavier

Remy LeBeau

Apocalypse

Lord of the Rings

Thranduil

Legolas

Haldir

Éomer

Foundation

Brother Day

Day & Night - Brother Day x Reader ❌🔥⚡🧸

Summary: You can't resist a challenge and what could be more daring than changing the fate of an Empire but you didn't calculate with the obstinate nature of Day...

Taboo

James Keziah Delaney

Triple Frontier

Will Miller

Dog Soldiers series (Love, Death & Robots - Shape-Shifters AU)

Part 1 - Santiago 'Pope' Garcia

Part 2 - William 'Ironhead' Miller

Part 3 - Benny Miller

Benny Miller

Little Miller - Benny Miller x Will's BFF!Reader 🔥

Summary: You are Will's new bestie and everyone (except the two of you) thinks you're gonna end up together but your love-hate relationship with his lil' bro takes an interesting turn when you find out his call sing, that they never actually use...

Dog Soldiers series (Love, Death & Robots - Shape-Shifters AU)

Part 1 - Santiago 'Pope' Garcia

Part 2 - William 'Ironhead' Miller

Part 3 - Benny Miller

Gentlemen

Raymond Smith

A deal is a deal - Ray Smith x half Asian!Reader

Bribing • The Offer • Deal • Business🔥⚡ • Pleasure 🔥🧸 •  All’s fair... 🧸 

Summary: You make an offer and you get yourself a Ray of Sunshine with the deal...

King Arthur - Legend of the Sword

King Arthur

All Hallows Eve - King Arthur x mage!Reader ⚡🧸

Summary: Staying at the castle, you train Arthur so he can wield the sword properly. When All Hallows Eve arrives, the dead wants to be heard…

The Legend of his Queen (part 2 of AHE) - King Arthur x mage!Reader ⚡🔥🧸

Summary: You fell in love with the King, even though you knew his destiny was to fall for someone else...

Good Omens

Crowley

Aziraphale

Vikings

Ragnar

Ubbe

Ivar

Mayans MC

Bishop Losa

I know what day it is - Bishop x Reader (season 3 episode 6 spoilers) ⚡🧸

Summary: On the anniversary of his son's death everything seems to align against him but you want to be there for him if he would just let you...

Angel's crush - Bishop x tattoo artist!Reader (season 3 episode 6 spoilers) ⚡🔥🧸

Summary: Angel keeps rambling about the artist who made his new tattoo at the latest Vegas run and even Bishop is intrigued by her...

One King - Bishop x vampire!Reader (Night Teeth AU) 🔥⚡

Summary: The vampire leaders of LA and Vegas are being killed off, you arrive to stop a war between the peace-keepers and the vamps and form an unlikely alliance with Bishop, one of the leaders of the human gangs...

Bishop with an anxious/shy/quiet SO 🔥⚡🧸

Bishop x cartel ‘princess’!Reader headcanon 🔥⚡🧸

Teen Wolf

Derek Hale

Chris Argent

Enola Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

Bride (to lover) - Sherlock Holmes x Reader 🔥⚡🧸

Summary: A marriage of convenience. You never expected it to be anything else…

Narnia

Caspian

*Dating the Darkling / Billy Russo / Logan Delos / Caspian / +Sirius Black headcanon 🔥⚡🧸

Witcher

Geralt

Vilgefortz

Darkness Within series - Vilgefortz x Calanthe's daughter!Reader ❌🔥⚡

Summary: He found you when your mother sentenced you to death, he took you in and taught you everything you know, then he found out just how special you are...

Game of Thrones

Robb Stark

Tyrion Lannister

Star Trek

Khan

Spock

Bones

James Bond (No Time to Die)

Paloma

The Enemy of My Enemy - Paloma x Villain!Reader 🔥⚡

Summary: Your relationship with her is complicated but you have to take aside your differences because Bond needs you both to save the world this time...

Harry Potter (Marauders/Fantastic Beasts )

Sirius Black

*Dating the Darkling / Billy Russo / Logan Delos / Caspian / +Sirius Black headcanon 🔥⚡🧸🤍

Percival Graves

Westworld

Logan Delos

*Dating the Darkling / Billy Russo / Logan Delos / Caspian / +Sirius Black headcanon 🔥⚡🧸

Venom

Eddie/Venom

*Misery loves company - Venom x Reader x Eddie 

Summary: You harbour Eddie's fugitive ass and put up living with the dysfunctional couple because you became friends with Venom after he saved your life.

Peaky Blinders

Alfie Solomons

Foreplay - Alfie Solomons x Reader (x Tommy Shelby)

Summary: Three players, one game. You are not really interested in their schemes but that wicked man tempts you to reconsider.

Bet the Pot - chef!Alfie x manager!Reader (modern!au) - Part 1

Summary: Alfie is stirring you up and enticing you into a bet…

Bet the Pot - chef!Alfie x manager!Reader (modern!au) - Part 2

Summary: You’ve lost the bet so it’s time to collect his reward…

Encore - Alfie Solomons x Opera Singer!Reader

Summary: Tommy is writing that final act for Alfie and you happen to be a part of it…

Tommy Shelby

[cinebration]

Hi there, could I request female reader with either Alfie Solomons or James Delaney. He is hurt and wakes up in her home after she found him. She brings him back to health. She is a person that is extremely shy and lives alone. And when he wakes she is awkward around him as she has never been alone with a man. He finds her behavior intriguing and feels drawn to her. So he begins visiting her alot after his recovery. she begins to feel comfortable after awhile with him. And they are attracted to each her but anytime he flirts with her she gets embarrassed and brushes it off. This amuses him for awhile and makes him like her more. But he loses his temper with her one day cause he's tired of not being able to hold her or kiss her. I like a fluffy ending after a bit of angst. Hope you like the idea 😀

Hi, anon! You can read your request here.

[iamkatehardy]

What would you like to see next?

Heeeelp ❤️

- Witchcraft (James Delaney) update : 🌶, 😪 , maaaaaybe 😍.

- Unlikely Allies (Alfie Solomons + Tommy Shelby) update : maybe 🌶 (I’m not sure, if the chapter is too long when I get to where I want, it might be smutty next chapter.) ,😪, 🥰.

- The Portrait (Alfie Solomons + Shelby sister) update : 😪, 🥰

- Dream Team (Eames) update : 🌶, 😪,🥰.

- Tommy Conlon new One Shot (I have an idea for a series too later on) : 🌶,🥰,

- Farrier new One Shot : 😪, 🥰 (IDK about smut yet, only if the situation demands it; if it happens it will be cute smut, not hot smut)

- Krays ( Kray sister reader) new One Shot :😪, 🥰

🌶 - Will probably include smut.

😪 - Will probably include drama/angst/some sadness.

🥰 - Will probably include comforting/fluff/cuteness.

I’m always really indecisive about what to update/write first 😂

Or anything else you’d like to add to the list.

[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

[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.

---

[despitetherage]

* getting  to  know  the  mun :

name : elle (for all intents and purposes) nickname :  elle? haha faceclaim :  never really thought about it pronouns : her/she height :   5′4 I think birthday :   September 4th  aesthetic :  minimalist, black and white, sunflowers, hockey skates, skinny jeans, nike sneakers, fat cats, and curly hair last  song  you  listened  to :  “thunder” imagine dragons favorite  muse (s)  you’ve  written : current muses: Delaney, Roberto, James, Kennedy, Delilah - fight me.

* getting  to  know  the  account :

what  inspired  you  to  take  on  this  muse/these muses : I’ve written some of these muse since I started rp and some I just develop as I go. I don’t really make anyone for any specific reasons.

what  are  your  favorite  aspects  of  your  current  muse(s) :  character development is my favorite! I love seeing how far they can come.

what’s  your  biggest  inspiration  when  it  comes  to  writing :  Life experience, sometimes TV shows (how I would make them better in my own worlds)

favorite  types  of  threads : angst, I’ trash for angst. Fluff is good too, and any plot.

biggest  struggle  in  regards  to  your  current  muse(s) :  picking favorites XD

tagged by @ouranthems

tagging @curlsncynefin ; @disapprcve ; @fateforlorn ; @heartbrxakers ; @heauxrus

[mihrsuri]

Three Ships: Elizabeth/Will/James, Aleesha/James/Matt (so @bibliothekara will know this one) and Percy/Marguerite/Andrew/Suzanne. 

First Ship: I was looking and the earliest fic I can find posted is one I posted on my LJ in 2004 and it is a Rolande/Delaney from the Kushiel series angst fic of angst - I imagine I wrote a lot of fic (probably even a lot of ship fic) in my head prior to this (and maybe even posted it to a forum or ff.net somewhere but I went on a ff.net deleting spree at some point so I don’t have it) but I wrote a lot of angsty gen/hurt comfort in my early life tbh. My first big ship was actually probably something (sadly) to do with Harry Potter. I think my first actual OTPs were Faramir/Eowyn and Arthur/Gwen/Lancelot which…tracks. 

Last Song: Locking Up The Sun (Poets of the Fall)

Last Film: The last movie I saw in the cinema was I’m pretty sure the Miss Fisher Movie which was Not Good. It was entertaining but it was Not Good At All. I usually just did a LOTR/Star Wars/MCU movie thing because I have a December birthday and going to the fancy dine in theatre is a nice birthday treat but yes. 

Currently Reading: Still reading Six Of Crows because the crows are my favourite part of Shadow & Bone - I’m about 218 pages in but I put it down and haven’t picked it up for a while - I’m enjoying it but I think I like the TV show better. 

Currently Watching: Right now my background noise (this is always pretty true tbh) is a historical documentary. I do plan to watch the rest of the following though - Shadow & Bone S1, Babysitters Club S2 and The Wheel of Time S1. But then there’s a Whole List (I do also have the Doctor Who New Years special to watch but I actually don’t want Jodie’s run as 13 to end so I haven’t watched it)

Currently Consuming: Having a glass of water but considering tea. 

[ao3feed-lokiangst]

The Lives I've Lived (huge w.i.p read ch1 for more info)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/BYadntx

by vintryx

This is....something. To summarize, currently there's nothing. "chapter 1" has more indepth info on what this is or could be, but basically it's me putting all my delusions into one place?? let me know if you're interested ig??

Words: 121, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Cuphead (Video Game), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Once Upon a Time (TV), Maximum Ride - James Patterson, Undertale (Video Game), Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Night In The Woods (Video Game), Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Multi, Other

Characters: Mae Borowski, Loki (Marvel), The Devil (Cuphead), King Dice (Cuphead), Karl Heisenberg, Sans (Undertale), Toriel (Undertale), Greggory Lee, Angus Delaney, Bea Santello, Jeremy "Germ" Warton, Frisk (Undertale), Thor (Marvel), Odin (Marvel), Alcina Dimitrescu, Alcina Dimitrescu's Daughters, Mother Miranda (Resident Evil), Ethan Winters, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Yelena Belova, Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Belle (Once Upon a Time)

Relationships: Loki/Original Male Character(s), The Devil/King Dice (Cuphead), Karl Heisenberg/Original Male Character(s), Sans/Original Male Character(s), Mae Borowski/Original Character(s), Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)

Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, no idea what i am doing, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Smut, Adoptive relationships??, How Do I Tag, There's A Lot And It's Weird, Crack, kind of?, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, The Author Regrets Everything, i am ashamed, Help

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/BYadntx