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hecohansen31 · 4 years

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Romance Dreaming:

Captain Francis O’Malley/Duncan Shepherd+Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

So, not long ago, in our Discord group we had a rather interesting conversation on put an awful moustache onto Duncan which @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern immediately complied, creating Francis O’Malley, a rather lonesome cowboy with a love for the countryside and a southern accent.

And then… I just had to put this in some kind of lousy romantic plot, because it is just how I am done, I am sorry… but I hope that it could at least steal a laugh from you!

Have a nice day!

SUMMARY: When you met on your road, in a rather compomising situation, Captain O’Malley, you are put up in front of a rather interesting deal.

WORDS: 12,6K

WARNINGS: Mentions of Abusive Household, Mentions of War And Death, HIGHLY HYSTORICALLY INACCURATE (I am sorry guys I just had a lot of things to think about, tonight, so I am sorry, if this doesn’t make sense, but I just felt like the post-civil war would have been a nice setting), Slutshaming, Marriage, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Mentions of Sexual Themes.

Francis had chosen many times the wrong side.

At the start of the war he had been a confederate, not because he had particularly believed in their cause, but because he had been brought up in that area, and it had been rather difficult to choose any other view.

Even more when your parents had controlled your Fate.

He hadn’t approved many of their choices, but he had been in too deep to get himself away.

War and leading armies was something he was good at, alongside riding his horse, and he wasn’t able to do more anything else, since everybody seemed to think he was the epitome of the perfect cavalry captain of the South, with his perfect light eyes and his strong legs.

So, he hadn’t chosen much of his life.

Except for Roweena.

Roweena and him had met when he had been asked to escort her and her father through a business trip, with his unity and he had been truly amazed by the beauty of such a creature, narrow waist and acute eyes, which played with his emotions.

He had wanted to marry her from the moment he had first seen her, but there was some distance between them, as in between their social status, and his father hadn’t approved.

Hence Francis had thought that, since he had already Roweena’s heart as she wrote to him, he just had to focus on becoming the best cavalry captain so that he could convince Roweena’s father to give her away to a war hero, and they would retire in a sweet country mansion where he could train horses and live the rest of his days in peace.

War had hunted him when he was finally alone, in his tent: the thought of how many fellow soldiers he had lost in that horrible and murderous plot made him feel empty and missing something.

Something he was hoping to find in Roweena, in her sweet eyes and comforting hands.

But then the tides of the war had turned and the North had started slowly winning each battle, gaining more confidence as they went and in the end they had completely destroyed their opponents.

The war had finished in a bittersweet end for Francis.

He was to be executed as many other captains, but a general of the North had noticed him and had suggested that instead of being hang with everyone else of his comrades he betrayed them and came to the North, because they could use someone with his abilities.

He knew that it had been a rather coward decision, but he couldn’t help but choose his life, that one time where he had finally been able to choose.

He hadn’t ever cared for the Confederation’s barbaric rules and now he was breaking them to save his life.

Still each night he woke up with of his friends calling him a coward.

The city in which he had been sent as his first appointment was nothing more than a shithole, completely destroyed by the horrible disasters that Lady War had brought with her and there wasn’t much control to do, after Francis had been appointed constable.

He knew it was some sort of punishment and degradation for having a past in the confederation but each day he woke up wanting to do nothing and feel nothing, he remembered he was alive and that was all it mattered.

He had to live on for those who hadn’t had a chance.

Also, the thought of Roweena kept him going.

Her father had sadly died in the war and she had had to rush to an aunt in the North, according to her latest letters.

She had lost anything she had owned and the only thing that kept her going was Francis.

The thought of their arms joined together in a last hug when they had run away from her annoying chaperone, that same hug that tasted so bittersweet for Francis, each time he remembered about it, was what kept his hopes up.

She hadn’t left her new address and Francis hadn’t been able to contact her, but he had also thought that he couldn’t just show up to her door to bring her to the shithole he worked in: he had to give her something better and he was working on it.

With the little money that he had managed to hide, he was trying to build a new house at the outskirt of the city, hoping it would his and Roweena’s love nest.

One day, he would wake up and all the ghosts would be away, and he would have Roweena by his side.

He was imagining all this, meanwhile he was patrolling with a few friends, when he heard a merchant screaming ‘thief! Thief!’ indicating a running boy, who was zigzagging through the crowd in an almost desperate run, almost making it…

… hadn’t it been for Francis on his horse, who was completely able to avoid the confused mob, using a shortcut, crossing his paths with his thief, just as he was a few miles from being safe and sound.

The little thief knocked himself out against the side of Francis’ horse, who neighed furiously and Francis had to give him a few good caressed to calm it down, meanwhile he reigned it to circle the thief, who was knocked on the ground, too scared by the horse to even try a movement, meanwhile the little bag with money was knocked on the ground, open.

“What do we have here, Charles?” he asked at the horse, eyeing gravely the little thief: the crime scene had increased due to the poverty of the area and the world, but this didn’t make it less excusable “… a little thief… who can’t do his job”.

“Please sir…” the thief’s voice sounded strangely high-pitched and a little hood was covering his face, meanwhile he went on his knees begging the captain “… I honestly… my family is going to starve and nobody is willing to hire me…”.

“You can stop all this silly talk, you should know better than to rob someone of their legitimate money!” he shouted back and something sparkled in the thief’s eyes, suddenly not so scared of the horse, raising on his feet.

“Oh, you think that I was stealing somebody’s ‘legitimate money’?! That merchant is profiting on poor people’s lives, he isn’t less a criminal than me! He is a thief exactly like me… but since he dresses in rich fabrics and doesn’t look starved, you won’t persecute him!”.

The thief’s angry rant made Francis almost fall back from his horse: he knew that what he spoke was true, since many merchants had started taking advantage of the poorness that the war had left, but the thief had still broken the law and he couldn’t go unpunished.

And then a little breezed blew onto them, and the thief’s hoodie fell down his shoulder… or better her shoulder, since the thief revealed to be a girl, a little younger than him, with obvious sign of starvation on her face, but there was some kind of determination that graced her features that made her… truly wonderful at Francis’ eyes.

He was dumbfounded enough and when the thief tried to escape him, due to his distraction, he almost lost her, but Charles was smarter than his owner and quickly captured her again, and this time Francis dismantled from him, so that they could have a conversation eye-to-eye .

She was definitely young and the fact that she was a girl made Francis want to be lenient with the punishment since she was obviously not doing this because she liked it: if it was true that she had a family, she must have been truly desperate to try out this road.

He wondered what he would have felt, had his Roweena been the one that had to steal to provide for her family.

She wouldn’t do it with any sort of evilness to it, it was necessity that brought her on the bad side of the road and although Francis had to obey to the law, he could bend it a bit.

“What’s your name?” the girl refused to reply and he forced her to raise her chin to him, meeting a pair of beautiful eyes, shining of some kind of rage that seemed to keep that body up, burning into Francis’ mind “… and don’t tell me a fake one or I’ll throw you in the darkest jail cells we own, got me?”.

“…(Y/N), sir” the name came out as a soft whimper, as if it pained her to reveal an identity she had almost forgotten “… please don’t put me in jail, captain! I’ll return the money and apologize! I can’t go to jail, my mother would be heartbroken!”.

“You won’t” although he wanted to toy with her a bit more, mostly so that she would learn her lesson, he saw a deep pain in her, a scar that brought him to think of his own “… but you have to promise me you won’t do it again, (Y/N), got me?”.

Her head came free from his grip and this time you refused to look at his eyes, clearly not wanting to swear something that she felt like she would do again, and rather soon according to what her eyes spoke of.

“… you know that you can’t survive like this, don’t you?” he asked, surely concerned that such a beautiful girl could reduce herself to this.

Had the thieving also been unfruitful would she have turned to something even worse?

His heart honestly couldn’t stand it.

“My father died in the war, sir, and my mother has other five children, two of which are rather young! My older brother is a drunkard and won’t help us, so me and my other two sisters try to make some money helping mom with embroidery and cultivating our little vegetable garden… but it isn’t ever enough… the youngest are always hungry and my brother… he steals us money!”.

This was a rather common tragedy: many families lost their only source of income and many of the members turned to alcohol, letting others starve.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for her.

“I won’t hurt you or rattle you out, but if you promise that you aren’t going to steal anything, anymore, I might have a job proposal for you”.

Her nose immediately scrunched up and he realized that the way he had worded the entire thing was horrible and definitely implying something that he hadn’t wanted to, blushing and regretting his words, immediately.

“… I didn’t mean anything like that!” he put his hands up to try to make her relax and see that he didn’t mean anything dirty, behind his words “…I mean an honest job: I have recently started living here and the chaotic life and work has left my house rather… unclean…”.

“You are asking somebody who just stole money… to clean your house?”.

The absurdity of the entire situation made him laugh and she smirked, this time definitely more genuinely.

“You must be truly new in town”.

Francis was rather thankful for his chaotic meeting with (Y/N),

She was amazing with cleaning the house, but that wasn’t her only talent: she was extremely educated for the third daughter of a farmer, justifying her knowledge as the passion that her grandma, a fallen noblewoman who had fell in love with a farmer, had passed down to her.

She knew literature and was passionate about it, which had made her feel wonder at Francis’ small collection of books and, before she had to steal any of them, he had welcomed her to take what he needed, almost as a little library of his.

They would then discuss about it, once she was taking a break from cleaning, Francis insisting she did so, since she worked hard and more times than not, she had overworked herself and he had had to accompany her with Charles back home.

She would always make him stop a bit before he actually reached the proper place.

He knew it was both because she was ashamed of him seeing her modest home, and both because she didn’t want her brother to know of her employment: he would steal her money and use them for booze, hence she always hid her money in her garter belt, knowing he wouldn’t search her there.

Some days, she would come in work, a black eye and a tremble in her hands, she would scrub the floor with such a ferocity that Francis many times had to interrupt her, before she hurt herself and more times than not he had let the girl use his bathroom, just to hear her sob lightly.

It hurt him to know that she had to go through something like that, each time she went back home.

Wouldn’t it have tarnished her good name and his, he would have insisted that she sometimes stopped in his city house so that she could avoid that horrible life.

‘Have you ever thought about running away?’ he had asked once, meanwhile she chatted about the latest books she had managed to get her hands onto, a new one even for Francis, since he had started to buy new books just for her, she loved the ones with fantasy in it and the right atmosphere.

‘More days than not I catch myself thinking about it…’ her confession surprised him: he hadn’t expected that to happen, although she lived in that horrid place, she had never mentioned to him running away ‘… I once even did my luggage and… then… I never know what to do’.

He kind of expected it.

She didn’t have any money and family, although abusive as that one, was still family.

He knew all too well.

‘And what about you, mysterious cowboy?’ she joked, meanwhile she turned to him, pushing the soap in the water, and then immerging the rag in it to clean the floor of the main room, a little but familiar place she had grown to love ‘… don’t you want to run away?’.

‘In the countryside’ he started and gently he relaxed himself, thinking about his life, a calm life in a nice place, where he could live happily surrounded by horses, the nature and his beloved… Roweena…

… Roweena!

He hadn’t thought about her in months, and that morning he had been brightened by a letter of an old friend of his, who had also joined the North side and he had sent him a letter about having seen Roweena at a ball and having talked about her, knowing she would attend a ball not too away from his shithole of a city.

‘All alone?’ she asked, with a malicious smile on her lips, having caught his enamored glance.

‘I might have the perfect girl for that life’.

‘She is a lucky girl, Mr. O’Malley, then’ she had giggled making him blush ‘… I mean… you helped a thief so I truly believe that you have a big heart and she must beyond lucky’.

Did her gaze hide something more?

Francis couldn’t help but think that there was different spark in her eyes, a more intense spark.

But he wasn’t able to think more about it, because as her gaze had set up on him, it immediately left him going back to her chores.

Through the weeks that separated him with his meeting with Roweena, to relax his brain he had taught (Y/N) how to ride with Charles, not much since he couldn’t due to the lacking space and the fact that they couldn’t spend more time together, mostly after one of her littlest sibling had caught a cold and she had to help her mother with him.

But she was a natural.

Whenever she would ride Charles, the horse would grow quiet under her, even quieter than when the horse was under him, making him call it a “traitor”, although he had fun with the beautiful way she would laugh as the stallion would accelerate under her.

And then the day came.

She had come to his house that morning and she had helped him get ready, since he trusted her more than his usual suggestions as a male.

‘Oh but if it was for me, that awful moustache of yours would be off’ she mumbled immediately, but didn’t erase his mark, meanwhile she helped him slicking his hair and adjusting his elegant suit, a thing which would have been full of medals, but he had lost each one of them as he had moved in the North.

But from the long look she reserved for him, he knew that he hadn’t lost his charm,

‘She is a lucky woman indeed’.

‘Tonight, stay here’ he insisted as he was leaving, the previous day her brother had gotten rather upset because the smaller ones of her sibling wouldn’t stop crying, and both her sister were outside working their embroidery as some old lady’s house, so she was the one he had pushed his anger onto.

When she had come that morning knocking softly at his door, a bit earlier, he hadn’t been able not to notice that she was stumbling a bit, limping lightly and when her gown, a soft cotton thing, had raised up lightly he had seen an horrible hematoma on her ankle, which she had immediately covered as she had caught him looking at her.

‘I can’t… the town would talk…’ she blushed so graciously that Francis couldn’t help but be in awe, remaining a bit more on the threshold of the door.

‘Just stay here, I feel better knowing that you going to stay here, your brother wouldn’t notice it and you sisters can cover on you!’ he insisted, gently grabbing one of her hands to make her relax, which she did with a soft whimper ‘… you can stay here till the hour you usually go back in the city, and then take a shortcut, so that people will simply think that you have finished your turn of the day’

‘That is too nice, I can’t…’.

‘Make me go with one less worry, (Y/N), it’ll make my uneasy heart feel better’

And she had eventually complied, promising to take care of his small house.

‘Good luck, cowboy’ she had mumbled, smirking before he walked in the chariot ‘… and if it doesn’t work… we’ll know that it was all the moustache fault’.

He couldn’t help but smirk to himself at those words, in the chariot, the conversation he had had with her definitely helped to ease his anxiety.

The entire place where the event was to happen was extremely elegant and rich and Francis couldn’t help but feel at unease, definitely different from all the people that were dancing around the ballroom, meanwhile he stayed close to the angle with the alcoholics.

“Still a fan of scotch?” mumbled James, his old friend, the one who had informed him about Roweena, being the only welcoming face in the crowd, sitting himself beside him, being welcomed with a huge pat and an affirmative answer, which made the waiter pour them two glasses of scotch.

“… didn’t think that you liked these kind of things…?” he mumbled surprised to find his roughish comrade in such a beautiful and delicate place.

“I still don’t like them, but it is better to be seen in these kind of things… it helps” and he not only eyed the expensive bottles, but also the way new leaders and captains moved around the crowd, although many of them were young, he could still see many converted ex-South loyalists.

“… well then let’s hope this might be a good night for both of us” smirked Francis, moving to clink their glasses together, but James didn’t look convinced and mumbled.

“You need to know one thing before…”.

But his voice was interrupted by an announcement of something and soon Roweena was descending the elegant stairs in the center of the ballroom, but she wasn’t alone.

A man was on her side, holding her gloved hand and softly leading her through the light, till they reached the level of the ballroom and Francis’ ears were finally able to focus onto what the announcement was.

“To Roweena and David, the most beautiful couple in this room!”.

“She announced her engagement a week ago, she is going to marry some idiot from the North, the important thing is that he has money and influence, her aunt organized anything: she is pretty and he is rich, her lifestyle will continue on living…”.

Francis was taken aback by all the cynicism his friend spoke and immediately turned to him, as a bull who had just seen red.

“… how can you speak about my beloved like that?” the anger shone in his face, meanwhile annoyance appeared on his friend’s face.

“Wake up, Francis! I tolerated that… awful…shrew for your love, but I hoped it was this which made you realize who Roweena truly is…”.

“She must have been forced in this!” he shot back, not caring that they were attracting glares “… she promised me…”.

“… and any men who even looked at her!”.

The shameful words his friend spoke only angered him more, but as a proper gentleman he just decided to move away, so that his friend could reflect on his hurting words.

He had moved away, a bit and when he came back, he had lost sight of James, but Roweena had been left sadly alone, a perfect opportunity for him to take to finally talk with her.

Reassure her that his feelings for her hadn’t changed and that he was more than ready to run away with her.

She had seemed surprised to see him, but she had quickly welcomed him in a rather informal hug, immediately attracting the wondering eyes of many people around her, which sent him rather unpleasant looks.

But he was in Heaven in her arms.

Although he had to admit that he couldn’t help but feel a bit horrified by all the things around him.

“… oh Francis! I didn’t know you were going to be here!” although his arms had been welcoming, her voice held some kind of sick sweetness that honestly that was suddenly out of tune with the image he had of her “… you made me the most beautiful surprise!”.

“I just couldn’t be separated from you, Rowie” Francis tried to spark again that beautiful relationship that had blossomed between you two “… you look even more beautiful”.

And she did, but Francis couldn’t help but feel like there was some kind of fake edge to her, which ruined her usual candor.

“What are you doing, right now? I thought that the North wouldn’t forgive you”

“They did, once they saw me on a horse” he tried to joke, but all around him the faces were long and before he knew it, Roweena suggested that he accompanied her to have a little breather, outside.

And as he moved outside, she immediately lighted a little cigar, something that Francis couldn’t helo but classify as not very elegant in a lady, but he didn’t stop her, just shielding himself a bit, meanwhile he gently covered her lithe shoulders with his coat.

“… you truly surprised me, Francis” her voice now empty of any ringing sweetness, was dark and rough: it surprised him, indeed “… I didn’t expect you to be this resistant”.

“What do you mean Roweena?” he mumbled surprised, immediately throwing himself to her, gently collecting her small hands in his bigger ones “… I thought we had promised to wait for each other”.

And surprisingly, after his heartfelt discourse, Roweena laughed in his face and before he knew it.

She blew smoke in his face, an illusion as her pretty face and the manners she had shown him.

“You think that promises make the world goes around, Francis?” she smirked, meanwhile he pushed herself closer to him “… because I know for sure that it is money that makes it go around, and I want to be the one spinning it, if you know what I mean”.

All his memories of what Roweena had been shattered by that presumptuous woman, which looked at him like a little insect meant to be squashed by her heels.

“What about our countryside life? I can still give you that!” he didn’t know what he could say more to make her reason, go back to when she had loved him and promised to do so till eternity “… I have started building a small house… in the countryside… it is a small life but…”.

“I don’t want a small life, Francis, I never wanted it” she spoke with such a slowness that every words took a hit in Francis’ chest “… I only said what you wanted to hear, it works that way with men”.

And as she had walked in in a whirlwind of ribbons and crinolines, she walked out of Duncan’s heart and life, leaving him dumbfounded and with an aching heart.

He didn’t know how he had managed to finally come back from the entire failure, since he had then, without even questioning, drunk himself stupid, emptying two bottles of scotch, till his body begged him to shut down and lay down.

It had been Charles who had brought back home, and he had risked many times to fall but once he had arrived home, the heaviest part of the entire thing was to drag himself through the door.

Which he did, longing for his bed, but when he finally managed to fall onto it he found out it wasn’t empty, but a warm body was laying against it, soft and definitely feminine and although it made no sense, his body, in his drunken state, reached around for it, curling against it, feeling comforted by the welcoming way she relaxed against him.

A whimpered breath leaving her lips, a heavenly lullaby that, alongside her even breath, lulled him to a peaceful sleep.

He woke up the following morning because the body he had curled against the previous night started moving, away from him and, more out of subconscious conscience than actually wanting to keep her close, he brought her back onto him, cuddling to the warmth, till a whimper of pain surprised him.

And he realized to whom the body belonged.

(Y/N) looked at him, as he opened his eyes, the thin nightgown she had chosen definitely more form fitting than the usual clothes she wore, and her hair down from her usual updo, gently gracing and cornering her face in a beautiful frame.

She was honestly beautiful, any detail highlighted by the shy light of the morning and her body appearing extremely delicious, hidden in simply cotton.

“… Mr. O’Malley, what…? I thought…?” and then shame set in her, her cheeks flushing red “…I fell asleep waiting for you, sorry for sleeping in your bed, I’ll immediately change the sheets…”.

“There is no need for it” he couldn’t help but feel ashamed by himself, he shouldn’t have drunk so much, mostly because, although nothing had happened and they had both their clothes on (although that nightgown was oddly revealing and doing things in his mind), it was highly scandalous to sleep with any woman that wasn’t your wife, before marriage “… I don’t think that I am actually able to leave this bed, right now… I am feeling pretty… unwell…”.

“Then I’ll go and fix you breakfast!” anything to get herself away from him, this is what Francis saw in her eyes, embarrassment shading anything else “… so that you can lay down and collect yourself”.

And she had strutted away, almost tripping in her own feet, due to the quickness of her movements, just to get away from him.

It would have been almost funny, hadn’t he felt like his head was going to explode.

Left alone, he had to finally reason with the revelation that his plan for the perfect life with Roweena was now impossible.

The rejection hurt him, but what made him feel truly empty again was the thought that any solution he had thought for all his problems, the emptiness due to the loss of war, the sense of guilt for having passed on the other part and the horrid thought that his life was meaningless.

What was he supposed to do with all that knowledge and an half finished shithouse on the countryside.

He left his bed just when it grew cold, although the natural perfume of (Y/N) still lingered on his pillow.

The kitchen smelled amazingly, but (Y/N) wasn’t stopping a single minute to face him, in an awkward silence that honestly made him uneasy.

“… I am sorry for the accident of tonight” he knew that he had probably scared her this morning, he could only imagine the hell she had gone through for her drunkard brother.

“I am actually the one who should be sorry, master Francis, it was… I shouldn’t have fallen asleep…” she rambled, clearly nervous.

“There is no need for the ‘master Francis’ and I personally am the tone who should be sorry, again, for the incident, I might have drunk a bit too much, yesterday…”.

She relaxed a bit, gracing him with a more lighthearted smile.

She had changed in her daily clothes, a high-necked blouse and a long gown of a beautiful light blue, tending to gray, which lighted up her age but also showed the sign of somebody who had grown up too quickly.

“… it didn’t go well?” in your voice there was no judgement and he couldn’t help but shake his head, meanwhile he seated himself to the table, as you brought him coffee and what you had prepared, enough that it would last him for days.

“Would you mind sitting down with me?” he asked, a bit shyly “My head is spinning and you moving around makes me feel even worse”.

She obeyed, setting herself down on one chair, the farthest away from him.

“If she didn’t like the moustache, you can still tell her you’ll cut it off” her genuine suggestion brightened up the mood, making let out a soft laugh “…no need to get this sappy about it”.

“Thank you for the suggestion, but it is simply more complicated than that…” and although they had known each other for not much time he confessed her everything that had happened that night with Roweena, and she listened with attention, her gaze becoming sadder as she took his difficulties.

“I am sorry to hear that…” her hands slowly inched closer to his, although she didn’t dare to take it “… I know what it is like to feel like any plan that you might elaborated isn’t working, because something changed, but…”.

And she finally took his hand.

“… but there is going to be a woman who loves you, I know it, and in the meanwhile, all you have to do is pick yourself up and look through the bright side…”.

“I can’t honestly see it” he mumbled, grumpily, and smirking she made him raise his head lightly, becoming bolder with her touches.

“You have a nice job, and you are going to build yourself a nice house in the countryside, you also have Charles… and if the entire woman thing doesn’t work, you might get a dog… I am sure Charles won’t be jealous”.

He couldn’t help but finally let out a laughter, not all his emptiness was now filled, but he couldn’t help but feel a more lighthearted, comforted by her gentleness and sweetness.

“… you are pretty wise about heartbreak, experienced many yourself?” he didn’t mean to actually barge in her stuff, and he felt her retreat in herself, but still… she answered him.

“I haven’t had many lovers, I can’t offer a proper dowry and I don’t think about love…” she mumbled shyly, meanwhile she hid her gaze “… but lately… somebody has been… I have thought about somebody… in that way”.

“He is beyond lucky” he couldn’t help but think that somebody like her would be a perfect partner: beautiful, hardworking and constantly having something to be happy for “… I hope that he knows that…”.

“I haven’t… come forward with him” she mumbled rather shyly, removing her hand from his grip “I do think that I am not… what he is looking for… so I am just waiting”.

He raised his coffee cup and moved it towards her.

“To us waiting for the people of our lives”.

She simply smirked meekly and then set back to take care for anything.

Weeks had gone and soon it was Autumn and then Winter.

Francis had had to slowly renounce for a bit to his country house, but he was comforted by (Y/N)’s teasing presence, who hadn’t allowed any trespassing of their precious riding lessons, which had somehow brought them together, and in the end they weren’t anymore master and servant.

They were good friends, if not something more.

Hadn’t it been for the constant reminder of Roweena’s hurtful words, he would have maybe tried to court her, although the society would have frowned upon such a union.

But he had started caring less and less about society’s opinion.

But (Y/N) did.

And he respected her shyness, choosing to admire her from afar.

And then that night happened: it had been pouring rain and there was no way Francis could have let her go out in the coldness and weary weather, asking her to stay as a guest.

Through the passing of seasons, she had started staying far more in his house, more time than not, when he wasn’t there, busy on trips or social events so that it would be less scandalous, staying in the guest room.

He knew that it was a small refuge from the daily sadness of her life: her brother would usually hurt just her in a drunken fury to steal the money she made at Francis’ house, he would rarely touch his mother for some kind of conscience he had, and the mother always hid the smaller children, meanwhile her other sisters were many times away, staying at some old lady’s house where they ere employed as a seamstress.

Many times, he had wanted to march over to her house to fight off the awful man, teaching him to pick up a fair fight, but she always made him swear not to.

‘It would make him angrier and the village would talk about it’.

Still, whenever he saw her brother, he would throw him a rather meaningful glance that he had his eyes on him and he better behave.

He was aching for a reason to put him in jail once and for all.

He had let her stay that night, due to the pouring rain, and the morning he had let her sleep in, mostly due to the fact that she had overworked herself lately, helping her sister with some seamstress work and helping her mother at the farm.

He had thought about even getting her breakfast ready, although he couldn’t cook to save his life.

But this had unreasonably created a lateness to her, and although they had had a nice morning, she had had to rush the entirety of the thing, since she had known that her brother would already be wondering what was going on, since she didn’t know for how long her sister would cover her.

He hadn’t thought that her delay of a few minutes would cost her so much, mostly because their plans had worked many times.

Not that time.

When her brother had come from a night of drinking and gambling he had expected to find breakfast ready, but her sister hadn’t been able to cover for her, since she had been called in early, so when he hadn’t found what he expected he had gone crazy, wrecking the house, meanwhile her mother hid with the littlest ones.

So, when she had come home late, having stayed the entire night away, he had unleashed his fury onto her.

Francis had known about this when one of his officers had been asked to come to the house to sedate the fury of the brother, and instead of sending him he had gone there himself.

He had ridden Charles till the old house and there he had found (Y/N)’s sister, crying her eyes out, both her little siblings in her hands, immediately asking for his help.

He had rushed in, knowing perfectly that she must have been in danger, and he had found not only the house completely destroyed, but she was cowering in an angle, bruised and bloodied, an eye swollen enough that she didn’t seem to be able to open it.

And her brother was on the table, a bottle in front of him and their mother moving around the house to try to bring him breakfast, meanwhile he screamed.

And in that moment, he had been the one who had seen red.

He had rushed to the man, a pathetic little ignorant man, and had pushed him till the chair under him had fallen down catching him by surprise, but he was too drunk to realize the change of plan and Francis had done everything to a lighting speed, immediately coming across him and starting the fight.

The punch was the first of many, he didn’t think, he just saw the bruised face that (Y/N) had sported when he had at first walked in, and the only thing that stopped him were her small and ushered pleas.

She had dragged herself to him, her hand trying desperately to reach for him, meanwhile she asked and pleaded him to stop, not differently than she had done before with her brother.

“Please… mas…ter.. Francis… he is not worth it”.

He knew it all too well, but it hurt him to see her like that, and he disentangled himself from his brother, and gently brought her into his arms, raising her in them so that she wouldn’t be hurt and force herself through a painful situation.

“I am going to get my men to collect your son” he simply uttered at the (Y/N)’s mother who pleaded with her eyes to avoid such a strong solution, but he was unremovable “… this scum doesn’t belong in such an household”.

And then he exited with (Y/N) bloody and bruised in his arms, hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder probably to hide some kind of uneasiness to her own vulnerability and he didn’t talk preferring to walk in science to his home, waiting there for a doctor who could examine her and bandage her wounds.

He could see all the town’s eyes on them, but he could have cared less.

He couldn’t help but think about how close she had been to death.

What would have happened hadn’t he been able to come to her, just in time?

He couldn’t think about that in the slightest, not when he was worried sick about her.

The sight of her bruised face was painful enough, because it spoke of extreme pain and he couldn’t help but be extremely worried on her future.

She had talked him and the doctor, once he had come, he had said she was lucky she had ‘such a thick head’ or she wouldn’t be alive.

He had checked her ability to move her body and although she did so with a painful breath it was clear that she hadn’t been injured permanently, although he had to bandage your ribs, since some seemed broken, a procedure which Francis hadn’t been able to stand, turning around to give her some privacy and because the sight of bruised skin honestly made him not only feel awful but also like he hadn’t done enough for her.

And certainly, like he hadn’t hit enough that bastard.

Also, her intellectual abilities weren’t compromised, for which he was even more thankful, because to ruin such a wonderful brain it would be a true waste.

“I am going to grab something in my office to help with the pain, I’ll bring it when I’ll come to check on her, tomorrow, right now it’s better if she is kept awake, it is good for her head”.

He had thanked the doctor and handsomely tipped him for the inconvenience and to keep his mouth shut, before he came back at her, she was facing the opposite wall, wanting to hide and shrink away from him, in a desperate fetal position.

“… do you want something to eat?” he didn’t know what to do.

She must have had an awful day and he wasn’t helping her much: he had beaten her brother…

… who had reduced her to a bloody pulp, but family was strong.

“… no, thank you” she sniffled, meanwhile she adjusted on her side, a little moan of pain leaving her lungs.

“What about a book?” he just wanted so damn to be useful, even with the easiest of asks “… I can read it to you”.

“I think that you have already done more than I deserved, Mr. O’Malley… I…” her voice was so low that it was just a simple whisper and hadn’t he been so still “… I am truly ashamed you had to see that… you must think so…”.

“You think that it is you who should be blamed for this?” his anger made her flinch, but it wasn’t directed at her “… you have no fault in this, you are the victim…”.

“I should have fought harder…” she tried to mumble, but he was unable to stop himself and his anger from flaring up.

“… and he should have never touched you!” because it was the damned truth, it wasn’t her fault in the slightest and before Francis knew it, she turned around: her face a map of bruises and hurt, and he found himself walking closer, no sign of fear in her eyes, just shame again “… I am sorry for not having stopped this sooner…”.

“It wasn’t your business” she mumbled, meanwhile he softly raised her chin, grabbing it between his thumb and pointer fingers helping her look at him, meanwhile she held back a soft whimper of pain “... I am still not your business”.

“You are, instead” he moved her so that she could stare at him in the eyes “You are so damn my business, with your gentleness and softness, and you deserve nothing more than this in the world, and I am sure that from now it is given to you”.

He made sure every world meant something for her and she looked at him like she did believe him, although there was still some kind of shyness in her eyes and he was more than aware about the fact that sadly he had gone too far, but… the little smile she sent his way… was worth it.

“Thank you for being there, Mr. O’Malley” the little smile turned in a devious smirk “… you aren’t so bad yourself…if you can overlook that awful moustache”.

“Well you are certainly back to normal!” he laughed out loud, truly relieved that you hadn’t lost your bite “… I am going in the kitchen to cook something, scream if you need help”.

Some time had passed since Francis had freed (Y/N) from the grasp of her brother and although the first days it had been simply to help her through her convalescence (although she was stubborn as hell, and many times she had tried to help him around the house), then he hadn’t been able to send her back to her house, although her brother had been sent to jail.

Hence, he wouldn’t annoy her, anymore.

He would make sure of it.

But somehow the permanence at his house had marked her in a bad way, since the entire town would talk about her as if there was some kind of illicit relationship between you two.

Old ladies would talk about how he had gotten stuck with her, thanks to some kind of evil plan of her and his lower officials would say even worse, using words he had long-since prohibited.

It almost seemed as if there was no exit, in this kind of situation: she couldn’t exit her house (although she would still go out to see her family, but they seemed to have excluded her from their core) without risking people looking dirtily at her, since her modesty had been shredded, in their eyes.

And she couldn’t go back to her family.

The only way was for her to stay in that city was with him…

Under a legalized bond, such as marriage.

He honestly didn’t have many chances after his loss of Roweena at marriage, and he couldn’t deny the growing attraction he was feeling for her, only enticed by the need to protect her, so he couldn’t help but feel like making her an honest woman might help her.

But he was aware that it wasn’t a simple question and one day, once he had come home, he had asked her opinion on the matter: starting from how she felt about the situation and what were her ideas to stop this behavior towards her.

“I don’t know how” sadness shone in her face, meanwhile she softly fidgeted with her hands “… I don’t know what I have to apologize for… I don’t know why my life is so angry about me… I just… I feel like hiding in this house is also not a proper solution”.

“You know that this doesn’t bother me” he mumbled “… but I might have an idea to solve this”.

Her eyes immediately brightened up: the “house arrests” were pretty heavy on her, although she tried her best to avoid showing the difficulties and the emotions that this rejection from society brought to her.

“… we might have to marry”.

Her eyes literally rolled behind her head for the surprised a.nd she almost fell from the chair.

“… what?” she mumbled, meanwhile he worried that it hadn’t been the brightest of her ideas “… you must be joking”.

“I am not” and he exited a little ring from his pocket, which he had picked up the night before “… I know this might be excessive… but if you marry me, they’ll leave you alone, although it is sad to say”.

“I know… I know…” she was looking at the ring, not daring to touch, which was definitely not good “… but… you don’t… you have no fault in this, you can’t always help me Mr. O’Malley, this is too much”.

“…it isn’t such a bad condition for me, you are already in the house every day, so it won’t change much, and I can’t think of anyone, after Roweena, so I don’t think that I’ll ever settle down…” he knew it might have been a bit excessive, but so were the society’s rumors “… people say I need to have a wife, and you need somebody who’ll quiet the rumors, so we are going to get married, we respect each other and have some kind of friendship; we are for sure better than many couples I know”.

She still looked back at him, confused and shocked, before slowly her hands reached to the ring, immediately retreating at last.

“You don’t want me as your wife… I am…” she mumbled, again nervous, looking at him in the eyes “… I can’t… what if you regret it?”.

“My heart has been broken since the end of the war, and when you came in my life, you brought some kind of solace in my life and I’ll forever appreciate you, as your eternal debtor”.

She looked once more to the ring and this time she gripped it in her fingers.

“Should I be surprised that it isn’t as tacky as your moustache?”.

“Be ready for a lot of tackiness in the future, my wife”.

The marriage had been rushed, but not enough that it seemed a coverage for an unexpected pregnancy.

Her sister and James had been their witnesses, she had worn a beautiful white dress, the best one he could have afforded, but she would have looked angelically even in rags.

The entire thing was more a quick need than an actual want, hence after the small ceremony was over they had retired home, thanking their few guests, who had wished them all happiness, although many of the people sent their way some dirty and annoyed looks.

Once behind closed doors, they had both let out soft and relieved breaths.

“… it is done” Francis mumbled.

“We are husband and wife” she replied, as if it was a shocking truth.

“… before anything goes further” he mumbled, immediately moving towards her, trying not to corner her, since she already had a blush going on, on her pretty cheeks “… I might be your husband, but you don’t owe me anything”.

Her cheeks definitely flushed, at what he meant: the duties of a wife were known to her, but he knew better than to push her, not after everyone in her life had done that.

They were similar in that: they both had been forced in things they hadn’t wanted.

And he didn’t even think that he could do something like that to her.

“…well before anything goes further, I also have a confession to do” she mumbled not even looking at him in the eyes “… you remember when I said I was in love with somebody…?”.

How could he not, he had wondered for entire days who that man was, if she would be heartbroken to have to marry him instead of the man of her dreams.

“… that man… well… it was you”.

And before Francis could properly reply to that outstanding confession, you ran away.

Since that confession she had been distant towards him: not careless but there was no way he could even feel like she was at ease with him, since she would constantly avoid him, whenever she could.

They might have been married now, but… they were more strangers than actual wife and husband.

The confession that she had fallen in love with him, had confused him, mostly because he didn’t want the feelings she harbored for him to be some kind of “reward” for his behavior towards her; he didn’t want nothing more than her purest form of affection.

The thought that she felt like she owed him something honestly made him feel sick at his stomach.

But now the town talked more secretively whenever she would walk out of their houses, and she had now some friends, other wives to whom she was slowly teaching how to read and write and Duncan had suggested she actually tried to get some teaching degree.

‘You are good at teaching, so you should try to get it certified, and you might open a little school here’ he had once mumbled, meanwhile she had told him about how many women sadly didn’t learn to read or write, and they kept in this horrible condition till the end of their days.

At the time she had simply blushed and nodded, but Francis had discovered soon that she had started getting some information on how to become a teacher and he couldn’t help but encourage her in secret, continuing with bringing her books, as some kind of gift for sticking for so long with him.

And then the ball of the town had rolled around and also (Y/N) had been taken by the frenzy of the choice of the dress and the thought of dancing around for the first time after entire days of pain.

She was definitely gorgeous, when she smiled so openly and naively, it was genuine and Francis was definitely addicted to that beauty.

Finally the night of the ball had come around and for the first time in month the looked like a true couple, with her hanging onto his arm, dressed up in a puffy but graceful green dress, the color mixed with light blue to catch better the lights and heighten her colors.

(He had to admit that when she had come down the stairs, almost running in that… thing, his heart had stopped beating and he was fucking sure that she was the most beautiful creature in the whole town).

(If not the entire world).

The ball was much smaller than many he had attended but it gave off some kind of familiar atmosphere and he felt comfortable with his pretty wife at his arm, finally laughing like she hadn’t in just so many days, softly showing her teeth in a ridiculous manner that made him want to kiss her pretty lips.

But he had to be the proper gentleman.

They still slept separated, but sometimes he would wake up from a nightmare, probably his screaming having woken her up and he would find her on the couch, a little candle illuminating the room and the book she was reading and which she proceeded to read out loud to lull him back to sleep.

He was dancing with some old lady that had stolen him from a laughing (Y/N), meanwhile she danced with a rather young courtier, one of the child of the wives she had been helping, who had started to court her, enough that Francis couldn’t help but be jealous of the way she would smile at him.

And then it happened.

Roweena had always been known for her grand entrances: once she had hired servants to carry her in a Cleopatra-way, something which should have told him what he was in for, a long time ago.

But the entrance she did, stuck in his mind mostly because there was no reason for her to here, so he wasn’t expecting her in the slightest and even if it might make him pass for an egocentric, he knew she had come back for him.

She had eyed him in the crowd and he immediately shifted away from the woman he was holding, moving towards (Y/N), collecting her in his arms, and sending the poor child a sweet smirk, promising him candies, meanwhile he tried to drag away his wife from the drama.

But it wasn’t enough.

Roweena reached them easily and she immediately clasped onto him, hugging him closely, meanwhile he felt (Y/N) nervous against him, stilling her movements, as she tried to pretend everything was fine.

“…ahh look at you Francis, making me come all the way from my honeymoon for you!” her voice was cheery enough that everyone had heard and it wasn’t a secret that everyone was looking at her.

“Roweena, what are you doing here?” he didn’t care that he was being extremely rude, but he didn’t want to waste any time, mostly when (Y/N) was still at great unease, clearly comparing herself to Roweena, since she was smart enough to realize she had been Francis’ first love.

“Ah, that isn’t a nice way to speak to a lady” she commented, but didn’t let his tone get in her way, tangling her arms together “… but if you must know, I am here for you”.

The last words of her phrases had moved onto a more confidential tone, as if she didn’t want (Y/N) to hear her, sending towards her a rather dirty look, that got on Francis’ nerves.

“.,, I have come here to take up your offer about having a nice life on the countryside” each words seemed forced out of her mouth, as if he had just obliged her to follow him, which was rather unlike him, but it still didn’t stop him from being ashamed “… the horses and the cattle, the entire thing, you know, I am ready for it”.

“… and what about your fiancé?” he felt (Y/N) beside you fidgeting nervously, as if she had wanted Roweena to get the hell out of their way as soon as it was possible.

But he, instead was making small talk with her.

“He isn’t…” Roweena for the first time since forever seemed at loss for words “… he was a big pretender…not definitely what I needed… and he made me truly appreciate what I had lost with you”.

Which meant that he hadn’t shown to have as much money as he was supposed to, to stay with Roweena, and to properly ‘take care of her’.

And she had gone back to him.

“… well that is quite the trouble” he hoped to sound as annoyed as he could “… but I don’t know how to help, I am not sure that my wife would appreciate me helping you”.

He saw and felt (Y/N) beaming against him, finally moving a step closer to him, smiling gently at her.

Kill them with kindness, indeed.

“…a wife?” she asked confused, meanwhile (Y/N) showed off her pretty ring, nothing too expensive but it made quite the work “… you married?”.

“Happily married” (Y/N) enforced, her hand immediately gripping his, before she laid a soft kiss onto it.

“… oh ahem…” she obviously didn’t know what to do anymore “…I didn’t know…”.

“Well now you know…” (Y/N) smirked, before she gripped tight Francis’ hand, turning just to leave her with a last message “… and I even like his moustache”.

And then they were both running away like two giggling teenagers, Francis trying to keep her dress from making her trip (which happened still), meanwhile she smirked, their eyes still entwinned.

They seemed a couple, and as they reached the outside of the ballroom, to properly breath more freely away from that society of conventions, he couldn’t help but feel like things were easier now.

So easy that with extreme gentleness and softness he moved to lay a sweet kiss on her lips, the first since their marriage, since she had allowed him to graciously push his lips against hers, in a shy kiss.

But in this one, although he still kept it shy, her lips came alive under his and before he knew it, she was the one leading the kiss, softly teasing his lips, mapping them out with her tongue, before her teeth tested the softness of them.

And it was all interrupted as her nose came in contact with his moustache, tickling it gently, enough that she had to separate herself from him, to sneeze making him giggle softly, meanwhile she hid behind her hands, clearly ashamed.

“I told you to cut that damn moustache” she snickered, not truly angry, and he gently pushed her hands away from her face, facing her pretty eyes and those delicious lips.

“…I’ll cut my beloved moustache, learn how to play the harmonica and build you a house on the countryside, if you promise to kiss me every day like that”.

Now the embarrassment on her cheeks was true and he thought he might have overstepped his limits, but then she gently moved closer and slowly and softly, but with a meaningful glance at their now-entangled hands, she smirked softly and reached out to kiss one of his cheeks.

“I’ll kiss you each day, my captain” she said “… moustache or not…”.

“Then why… why have you been so cold with me, all this time?” he knew that hadn’t he asked her this he wouldn’t be sure if his feelings were reciprocated as hers; she might have been scared by the ghosts of his past, when he would wake up screaming.

She might not want a traitor, and more importantly she might hate him for forcing her in a marriage, although he had been the one, she had loved, and she had confessed so.

“…I didn’t… it wouldn’t have been proper for me to express my feelings… when you were my master, mostly because… you had your feelings for Roweena… and when you came up with the idea of the marriage I thought you were doing it more out of pity than actual interest for me… and I… just was scared that what you felt for me, was not enough”.

He had thought the same, each night, since their wedding, when he had woken up alone, uncherished and without her by his side.

He might have harbored feelings for Roweena, but he had let them go, as soon as (Y/N) had entered her life, showing him the truth and the wonder that being loved with the same amount, meant.

He loved her.

He knew it.

And he would act on it, now that he knew she wouldn’t run away.

“Well than rest assured, milady” he mumbled, meanwhile he brought her by the waist closer to him “… what I feel for you is stronger than what I have ever felt for anybody else. All my life I haven’t chosen anything, and then you came in… and I chose to marry you, although selfishly… because I wanted you… and I hope you are happy, because we are stuck”.

“As long as you cut that horrid..!” before she could finish the sentence, Francis had lightly tilted her body, dipping her a bit, enough for her to have to rely on him for balance and as if that wasn’t enough, he kissed her, this time deeply and slow.

A sensual kiss, finally, one between two lovers.

Finally.

He pushed her against him, feeling the entirety of her warm body against his, meanwhile she simply smirked against the kiss, letting her mouth open after his tongue teased her lips, pushing itself through the little “o” which formed as she was surprised by how swiftly his hands moved from her waist to cup her buttocks, collecting the layers of her dress to pick her up in his arms.

As they separated, he twirled her around making her smirk, meanwhile she giggled and tried to make him stop, knowing all too well that although they were away from the main crowd, they were still in an extremely public place.

And they were indeed caught.

… by Mrs, Leipniz, their neighbor, an old widow who looked dourly at them, muttering something about ‘newlyweds not having any shame’, before she moved away and Francis felt her shivering, obviously embarrassed, but also cold.

“C’mon let’s go home” he muttered, gently putting her down, but keeping their hands linked in front of him, meanwhile he led her to their home.

He helped her out of his coat once they were inside, but she distracted him keeping on kissing all his face, meanwhile he smirked at her rushed affections, but he welcomed them, but as soon as she was out of the awful coat he could have a great look at her dress, meanwhile she twirled for him.

“You are freezing, babygirl” he mumbled as her freezing hands, settled onto his chest “… might I warm you up?”.

He wiggled his eyebrows making her blush but also smirk, meanwhile she just turned, setting up a meditative pose, as if she was thinking.

“… and how would you do that, Mr. O’Malley” she teased him, before a small kiss was sent onto his lips, just for her to retreat immediately.

“Well, I’ll have you know, Mrs. O’Malley…” he smirked at the way her name tasted in his mouth being said like that “…that I have a lovely fireplace in my room”

“But I also have one in my room” she murmured trying to appear completely unbothered by the entire thing, meanwhile she smirked at him, trying to run away from his arms, which only tightened the grip on her, making her giggle.

“Oh, but mine, little girl…” he smirked, pushing himself against her, so that the sexual innuendo was clearer to her, making her feel his excitedness through the layers of her too-covering dress “… is bigger”.

She giggled, completely red in her face, but she just nodded, before blowing a soft kiss to him and exiting his arms, caught by the distraction and rushing in Francis’ room, merely closing the door behind her.

He snickered, but quickly followed her, discarding on the way his jacket, remaining in a soft linen shirt, and his “more-than-properly-tight” pants, finding that she had also shed part of her dress, the full gown and her own jacket revealing some linen puffy underpants and her lithe corset, which was tightened over a sheer chemise, truly making Francis’ mind reach its most sinful thoughts.

“... you took your time, old man” she muttered, gently reaching behind her to unlace her corset, a lighter shades of blue with golden insert, and Francis moved closer to her immediately, slapping gently her hands away to undo the corset, in a newfound intimacy he loved with all his heart.

“… and you are taking too many liberties brat” he replied, pushing on her corset laces, effectively stealing her breath, something that made her take a deep intake of breath, suffocating whatever she was going to protest with “… I might have to punish you”.

He then moved and pushed onto the laces to effectively freeing her from that annoying garment meanwhile he laid passionate kisses onto her exposed neck, since her hair where in an updo, something for which he was thankful, although he had quite the passion for her hair being let down.

“Is that a promise, old man?” she spoke back, turning her face to him, gently linking their lips for a slow kiss, making him feel every crevice of her lips, meanwhile his fingers passed onto her body, letting the corset fall down her body, exposing the modelling nightgown.

“That is definitely a promise” he smirked, gently raising one hand onto her breasts, squeezing one softly in his hand, meanwhile your mouth opened, and he bit the tip of her ear, making her moan out loud “… and I always respect my promise”.

This was enough for him to feel her tremble beneath him, pleasure oozing from her lithe body and he knew it all too well that she was probably drenched in her garments and discovered this and much more as he probed softly her cotton underpants, before his hand slipped in them, stopping at the beginning of them.

“Want me to make you feel good, lovely” his other hand went to her hair and he pushed the main hairlock in it, letting them fall onto her shoulder, meanwhile she nodded, biting her lips, and his hand moved further, meanwhile her moans answered the question.

“… please, Francis… I…” and then she turned to him, the gentleness of her eyes didn’t hide the fire in them “…I can’t… I have waited long enough for this”.

And he didn’t dare to actually delay her wishes anymore and he softly slipped his fingers onto her mound, finding it indeed wet and warm, and not because of the burning fireplace, which was the sole light in the room, alongside some candles lighted up on the nightstand, permitting him to see her beautiful face, the way it contorted as his fingers came in contact with your secret.

But this wasn’t enough.

“Can you lay on the bed for me, lovely?” he asked, and although protesting against the loss of his hand, gently teasing her, but she laid, meanwhile he softly nestled between her thighs, already feeling the delicious smell of her arousal.

The knowledge that she was already this aroused because of him was making him quite crazy.

He rutted lightly against the bed, to relieve a bit of the pression on his own member and when he finally managed to focus on her again, he recognized that between him and that sweet nest of honey there was an obstacle: her underpants.

He almost wanted to rip them off, but he knew that this gesture might scared her, so he gently dragged them down her soft legs, meanwhile he revealed her nest, now barely hidden from some linen short pants, decorated by frilly parts in silk.

Her wetness had sipped through them, revealing the shape of her puffy folds.

And he pushed them down her legs, after the underpants, having her almost naked under him, the chemise the only thing covering her, and with the way she blushed as he raised his eyes to meet hers, and tightened her grip onto the hem of it, he didn’t dare also defraud her of that last shard of modesty.

He preferred for her to guide him when she felt ready.

But she had asked to make her feel good.

She had said she had waited for too long.

So, he shouldn’t make her wait any longer.

He dipped one fingers in between her folds, teasing her softly, more to see her joyful condition than to actually elicit any pleasure from her, which, still, sparked in his finger’s wake.

She gently pushed her hand into the sheets and raised her back off the bed, but immediately stilled as Francis found her that damned sweet spot he knew that would make her see stars, meanwhile her grip on the sheets tightened, and her legs came to close themselves onto his fingers, either to lock him there or to hide herself from her ashamed state.

He retreated his finger from that aching point just to collect against wetness being dripped by her folds just to douse it over her pearl, lightly swollen due to his ministration, continuing this a few times before it was enough that he felt like he wouldn’t hurt with his next moves.

“I am going to breach your innocence, my little girl” he said, raising her eyes to look at her, finding some kind of dark pleasure in them, a silent prayer, because it wasn’t enough “… it might be uncomfortable, but if you want to stop… you just tell me, won’t you, sweetheart?”.

“Of course, Mr. O’Malley” the way she addressed him, alongside the rough tone of her voice, arousal through it being evident.

“I might actually like the way you pronounce my name” he smirked, before he went down, nestling himself better in her nest, making sure that his shoulder blocked her legs so that she wouldn’t deny him access.

“Have you ever done this to anyone before?” there was some uneasiness in her voice, that made him stop from doing much more, making him raise his eyes to look at hers “… I don’t… I have never…”.

“Yes, I have done this before…” he felt disappointment in her eyes, alongside with her ducking her head away “… but I have never been in love with the person I have done this before”.

And to enhance the concept he kissed her thighs, till his breath was just onto her nest, making her moan lightly, meanwhile she screwed her eyes close, the knowledge that he loved her making her feel like nothing more could be more pleasurable.

“I… I am scared you won’t like… it… with me” she mumbled, meanwhile his tongue licked a little path from her inner thighs to the upper part, softly delimiting and mapping out the confines of her womanhood.

“You think too much, (Y/N), there is nothing in the world that you could do to make me feel like you aren’t perfect to me” he definitely felt like she was a bit more relaxed and then inched his finger between her folds, holding it here, meanwhile he moved up so he could kiss you as he slipped his first finger inside her, and immediately she bit down on his lips.

He tried to ease the gentle pressure with a softer touch of his lips, but it was enough with the way her walls tightened around his finger, not wanting to let it go, that he knew it was enough, and that she was starting to feel pleasure.

He still checked in her eyes, which had rolled back a bit, and when she rutted lightly against it.

And he was completely loss in the adoration of the way pleasure overtook her, and he gave her what she needed, pumping lightly his finger in and out of her, till he knew that it wasn’t enough anymore and he moved his lips onto her folds, before they raised onto her clit and he softly kissed it, before he started sucking on it, making her moan loudly and her fingers, unwillingly, treaded in his hair.

She pushed him, meanwhile her legs closed around his shoulder, trembles of pleasure going through her and he knew that she was almost there.

She just needed a little push, or better… a little crook of his finger, meanwhile his tongue started lapping more languidly her pearl, making him feel every inch of it, stimulating her till she was oversensitive and when pleasure came… she screamed.

She contorted over the bed, the evidence of this never having happened, was clear in in the movements of her body, ecstatic and honest, and definitely divine with the way her juices flowed in his mouth, the taste better than anything he had tasted, and he passed a few minutes slurping anything he could from their natural source.

And when she pushed him away from the hair, in a rather tight grip, which only excited him, and she brought him in a kiss, a messy kiss, collecting some of her own juices in a desperate attempt of passion, in a show of tongues that lead her to take the upper hand, inverting the positions.

Now she was on top of him, and he wasn’t sure he minded it at all, now with the way her thighs pushed onto his hardening bulge, which was becoming more and more desperate, searching for friction.

“I do think that I want more” she murmured, almost reaching his lips, before she turned back, and one hand reached down his pants, although an adorable blush coated her cheeks “… I have tasted corruption and I don’t think that I can stop”.

He smirked simply, reverting again the positions and making her giggle.

“Well that is good because I have no intention to stop…” he giggled, pushing down his pants and undergarments with them, meanwhile another hand tasted the wetness and readiness of her soft nest “… and little girl, get ready for the final shred of your innocence being forever stolen”.

“I can’t believe that you are reading those things, when you have a man of bones and skin in front of you” mumbled annoyed Duncan, meanwhile you turned another page of the romance you were reading before bed.

Romance books had always bene your guilty pleasures: they made you relax, alongside the fact that whenever Duncan wasn’t with you they were your own way to have a bit fun with your body, since the smutty description could be quite “steamy”.

You hadn’t been able to put down, still, your latest romance reading, not only because it was definitely a slow-burn romance, but the male character also sounded like Duncan, hence you had been too busy trying to finish the book to actually dote on your real “boyfriend”.

“Just give me a few minutes… we are getting to the interesting part” you mumbled, trying to hush your boyfriend, but whenever Duncan was bored and not receiving enough attention, he was prone to particular vexations towards you.

And in this case, he literally stole the book from you, before discarding it rather ungently away from you and throwing it in an angle of your shared bedroom, making you scream at him in protest, but he immediately stopped any response of yours kissing you and pushing himself on top of you.

“… I think that I can offer you more entertainment than some stupid book” he smirked as soon as he retreated from the kiss “… I am definitely better than Captain O’Malley”.

“Oh, are you sure?” you smirked, feeling like you had just gifted yourself a wonderful night of sex “… won’t you show me, Captain Shepherd?”.

----

As always... any feedback is more than welcomed and encouraged, I am always curious to know what you think of the shit I write, and I hope that you’ll appreciate it!

Also I do have to warn you that I have been having some personal problems and I haven’t felt like writing much so I am sorry if the next fics might take some more time!

And here are to the one who wanted to be tagged!

@so-langdon @blakewaterxx @emmyrosee @lovelylangdonx @1-800-bitchcraft @kaetastic @frenchbread4ever @lathraios @rosegoldrichie @rocketgirl2410 @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @forgivemelucifer @antichristfern @lonely-cloud @elena-75s-blog @ashyblondwaves @kleineshaschen @dyns33 @vintagepink @langdondelrey @chloewinchester13 @luthienshavenlove @ confusedafsthings @venusbloodlust @coezals @vixenmare @soph3218 @baby--yoda @omegaaislynn @im-the-music-whore @melodylangdon

#captain o'malley #captain o'malley reader #duncan shepeherd reader #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd fic #duncan shepherd smut #duncan shepherd fluff #duncan shepherd moodboard #cody fern #cody fern characters #hoc #house of cards #hoc imagine #house of cards imagine

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