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beloveds-embrace · 5 months ago

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part two of dukedom!141 . please dont ask why johnny and simon aren't in it and why itss end is so abrupt bc tumblr fucked me over twice while trying to save it 😭😭

You could have never expected this. When you had come to your darling husband with your request, you hadn’t known what to expect at all. But you could have never expected this.

“Are you awake, my Duchess?”

My Duchess. Such a simple thing, even used before, but now it rang so differently in your ears. You don’t want to turn around and face John, but he doesn’t give you the choice.

The hands on your waist, on the hand-shaped bruises lining your hips, gently turn you around on the bed so that your bare chest is pressed against John’s. You believe the quilts on top of the both of you are unnecessary, because you, yourself, are already running hotter than a furnace and you wonder if he feels it.

“John…”

“My Duchess.” He sighs again, leaning down to kiss your neck, the soft skin littered with hickeys. Distantly, you make note of the fact that you are clean and wearing fresh undergarments, as is John. He must have cleaned the both of you after last night…

Last night. Just thinking about it is making you feel even warmer, burying your face in John’s broad shoulders even as he hums and continues to trail kisses up your jaw.

How were you supposed to know that your husband is one, big, jealous bastard who is simply too good at hiding it?

“…I feel as if there has been a misunderstanding, darling,” John had said to you, after Kyle had silently dismissed himself and John had rounded the table to kneel in front of your shocked self. Taking your hands in his, he had stared at you with his full attention. “You have been unsatisfied, and I failed to see it. I apologize, wife.”

“John, what-“

“I feel as if I’ve failed you in general, truthfully,”

“You haven’t! John-“

He kisses the back of your hands, and that silences you. “Wife, have I ever made you feel as if I would not honor your wants and needs?” This time, he waits for you to reply and it takes you a second, blinking down at him.

“…no.”

John’s face twists just so slightly, though you still can’t understand what he’s feeling or thinking. “Then, have I ever made you feel as if I would withhold anything from you?”

“…no, John.”

“Then why go to Graves?” John’s voice lowers to a grumble, his brows furrowing. Such an expression isn’t one you are so used to seeing on him, and you dislike it.

His question makes you pause, biting your lips. You want to close your eyes, ignore the warmth in your cheeks, but you can’t bring yourself to look away from him for long before you are sighing softly.

“I feel so… bereft, John.” You admit softly, squeezing his hands back. “Bereft of love. You treat me so well, all of you do, but it’s just-… I want to feel love, John.”

John observes you for a little longer, then he speaks. “And you believe Graves loves you?”

“…no.” Though it hurt to admit, you were never one to lie or blind yourself. “He doesn’t, even if he says he can. But he is willing to give me affection and that is far more than I could ever possibly ask of you, John.”

You could tell that Graves saw you simply as an ends to a means he never thought he’d have the opportunity to have. But you were desperate, and you didn’t want to bother John, or cause a controversy that couldn’t be easily hidden. You wanted affection, love, fake as it may be.

The way he viewed you was nothing new to you, of course. You were a tool from the moment you were born; a glorified breeding stock, just one fortunate enough to be born rich. You weren’t meant to be anything more than that but here, you had it all. Almost. What little else you lacked you were sure Graves could give, even if you wished it was-

“But it’s not.”

Eyes widening, you look at him and wait for him to elaborate, thoughts drifting away.

“It’s not far more than you could ask of me, wife.” John tells you. He moves your hands open, kissing your palms. “I understand how you see it now. Did you truly believe that I don’t love you? That Kyle, Johnny, and Simon don’t love you?”

On top of your wide eyes, your jaw now slackens, staring at him in silence. But he is truthful; that much you can easily tell.

“Duchess, you are my Duchess.” John breathes out, now pecking the ring adorning your ring finger. “My wife. I adore you far more than that fool could ever hope to adore you. Had I known this was how you felt, I would have fixed it in a heartbeat so much sooner.”

“What do you mean-“ because surely he doesn’t mean that. Surely he doesn’t mean what you think he means, something you hadn’t allowed yourself to even hope for. No, no, you are misunderstanding it-

“Duchess,” John sighs your name so fondly it leaves you breathless, left stunned in front of him. “If it’s love you want, I will give it to you. If it’s affection and intimacy you want, I will give it to you. Not just me- all of us, my Duchess. But should you still truly want Graves,” and here, John’s face twitches again though this time you can see that it practically pains him to say the words. “Then I will personally make sure no matter what happens, he will not hurt you or besmirch your reputation.”

Silnce follows his words as he waits for you. Your hands are now trembling in his grasp, stomach twisting painfully. You don’t dare to hope, to reach out even if he’s offering what you want and more on a silver platter.

“John…” you whisper out, afraid that speaking any louder will shatter this moment. “John. Do you- do you truly mean it? Please, John-“

“I do, I do. I always will.” He says, again and again and again, hands cupping your face now so you can see the absolute truth in his eyes. At last, he stands up. John doesn’t give you a moment to think before he is scooping you into his embrace, a wicked grin now on his face.

“Now,” he practically purrs, squeezing you close to the hard muscles of his body. Your cheeks are warm anew, unable to look away from your husband. “My wife said she is unsatisfied, no? I ought to fix that, don’t you agree, Duchess?”

“O- oh, but you work-“

“Wife comes first, of course. And perhaps we can consider talking about the little baby name list you’ve been hiding, my dear.”

“John!”

"I have so many meetings today," John groans softly, one hand raising your chin so he can kiss you once, and then twice afterwards. He leans down, burying his face right between your breasts, and after a few seconds of contemplation you begin scratching your nails across his scalp ever so lightly.

The sound he lets out alone is enough to reignite heat in your belly. To think such a handsome man now is yours... several handsome men...

"So many meetings," John repeats with a sigh, his beard pleasantly tickling your skin. Big, warm hands slide down your waist, caressing where your thighs meet your ass, squeezing the soft plush. "I won't have time for lunch today with you, my dear. But my boys will take such good care of you, promise."

You just let him caress you as he pleases; there's something so inherently admiring, devoted, in the way he touched you then and now. You feel so loved under his touch, whyever would you pull away?

Still, you do look down at him. "Are you sure they don't mind... me, John?" You can't help but ask, such a nervous and worrisome thing. John wishes you'd put yourself first just once, but they have plenty of time to show you each how much they love you.

"Yes." He replies easily, chuckling. "Darling, I'm afraid you'll have a harder time prying them off. Now up, I believe Kyle has already prepared a bath for you. He just went to get you an outfit for today. He'll be the one helping you today, if you'd let him, of course."

And oh, what a bath he's prepared for you; candles alight, rose petals delicately strewn around and in the warm, oil-scented steaming water, and Kyle's fingers crooked deep in you while he murmurs of what a lovely, perfect wife you are for them <33

dukedom au masterlist

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lostintransist · 2 months ago

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Noona's Dukedom Gave Me Brain Worms

@beloveds-embrace legit gave me brain worms. We aren't going to talk about how long this damn thing got. Can be read without context of the Dukedom AU but it makes more sense if you've read all the possible endings. Shout out to @strangergraphics for the cute divider. ***It got a little bit away from me... Word count: Shy of 6K AO3

Sneaking into the stable of the noble house of Price was a bad idea. He knew it. The hunger gnawing at his spine pushed him forward despite his mind’s warnings. Due to the starvation, his body was smaller than it should have been. He used that advantage to sneak between the slats in the fencing and to hide below the edge of the empty stalls.

Voices and clopping of hooves lifted over the walls. The grooms were rotating the horses in the paddock, he would have a few moments to scrounge for something to eat. He would even take the horse’s oats at this point.

Darting from the stall he scanned the walls for a full door; the horse food would most likely be up to keep away the rodents. His hand nearly touched the handle when a swish of skirts had him unlatching a stall with a large black horse and hiding. The horse did not care for his presence and began to flick its ears and swish their tail.

The swishing of skirts continued, nearer and nearer to the stall with the upset horse. It stopped and he ducked further down, holding the door shut but not letting it latch for fear that the sound would travel. Three loud breaths in his ears and the horse pawing at the straw were all the sounds that he could hear.

“Child, I need you to come out of there. Now.”

The voice held the commands with familiarity. Shutting his eyes tight the boy wished that God listened to orphans. He did not complete another breath before he was hauled out by the collar of his shirt. The damn thing ripped as the woman slammed the door closed to the angry sounds of a horse.

“Ma’am!” A groom, dressed in nicer clothes than should ever be used to care for horses, came running in. He skidded to a halt at the sight of the boy. “Do you need me to take care of him, my Lady?”

Hells beyond, of course, he had been found by the lady of the house. The devil must want his soul something fierce.

“No. Thank you, Benjamin.” You must dismiss him with a nod for the groom eyes him warily before heading back outside.

Chancing a glance upward he saw a lovely dress, must be the height of fashion because none of it made sense to him, and a sad face.

“What is your name child?” You ask him kindly, despite the hand still gripping the ripped portion of his shirt.

He thought about running, leaving his shirt behind in your hand.

You let out a small hiss of reprimand and the thought is abandoned.

“David, ma’am.”

Even in those two words, he knew his low-brow accent could be heard.

“And what are you doing in the stables and with my husband’s horse, David?”

He thinks about lying. You must see it in his face for the small bit of tension in your shoulders falls away, as does your hand.

“Come with me, David. And before you tell me the lie on your tongue, make up a story. Tell me the most unrealistic reason of how you came here, and then we can discuss the truth.” You gesture to the bright light beyond the stable and begin to walk.

You make it several steps before you turn around and lift a brow at him. Trained by society to listen to his betters David scurries after you.

He tells you a tale, of how fae had stolen him away from his family and left him for dead in the woods because he never seemed to grow. He spun the story so neatly that he nearly missed that they entered the side door of the grand manor on the property. A maid passed in front of you, long strides taking her down the hall.

“Mary,” you state her name, waiting for her to pause with a quiet, ‘yes ma’am’ before you continue. “Please send a tray of bread and cheese to my room. Also, have someone open the old trunks in the nursery to see if there are any clothes that would fit this child.”

Mary’s eyes flick to him and back to the lady, the confusion only thinly masked.

“And if his Lordship asks?”

David knew this wasn’t usual; his last posting would have called that cheek and seen him dismissed. You handle it with almost an ease of familiarity.

“Then send his Lordship to my room.” You settle a hand on his shoulder, directing him to the stairs, “Come, David.”

He moves where you direct, curious and cautious in equal measure. He had no training for how to act when the lady of the house pulls him into her sitting room and directed him to sit on a wooden chair near a writing desk. You disappear into what David assumes to be your bedroom for a moment.

Taking a moment to observe the room he notices a stack of books next to a comfortable chair with a blanket draped over the back of it. There is dust in the corners of the room and along the windowsill. Your maids were terrible at their jobs.

His mother had been a maid before she had been forced to put him in the orphanage due to illness and probably dying from consumption. She would be ashamed to claim this room as clean. For a duchess no less? Disgraceful. David could feel his brows pull down in a glare as he looked more. No stack of wood near the hearth, and a large collection of ash in the grate spoke of negligence.

When you return you are carrying a pitcher of water, a bowl, and a rag. Setting all of them on the floor you settle yourself down next to them. David had never seen a lady deign to sit on the floor before.

Pouring some water into the bowl, you wet the rag and wring it out before gently lifting it to his face.

“Where are your parents, child?” You ask in kindness, he flinches anyway.

He was a bastard of an earl and a maid who could not refuse. A knowing enters your eyes at the set of his chin.

“They do not care for you here.” His tone is serious.

It is your turn to flinch. It does not stop you from wiping the dirt from his face.

“What makes you say that?” You ask in a quiet voice, eyes not straying from your task.

“The maid was cheeky, and the state of your sitting room. Any maid worth her salt would not let dust collect like this.” He is still scowling as you rinse your rag and begin on one eye.

“Mmm, the staff were chosen by my husband before marriage. He is…resistant to change,” you hedge.

David does not reply other than to watch you in silence. Something here did not feel right. He would know, he had served in a great house once before. The lady of that house had been a mean and hateful woman, nothing like what you had presented yourself as. No one in the gentry would have saved him from a horse or brought him into their space to dress and feed him. He decided he would stay, ask for a position, and see if you were as good as this first impression.

A light knock at the door did not prevent you from finishing your task.

“Enter,” you called as you started on his hands.

“Found these in the nursery ma’am, a few moth holes but they will serve for now.” Mary, the cheeky maid from earlier glared at you as she settled the clothes across the settee. The tray of bread and cheese rested on the cushion next to the clothes.

David glared at her over your head. Mary jerked back when she saw his black look. She returned a sneer and breezed from the room as easy as you please. Acted like she owned the damn place.

“You need new maids,” David near as growled as his child’s voice would allow. Confusion washed over him like sacrament water at your soft smile, both hands holding his.

“Let’s get you in some clean clothes and get some food in your belly. I can hear it from here,” rising from your position on the floor you settle the water on a side table and join him near the settee.

David fingers the fabric. It is finer than anything he has ever worn, even with the moth holes. Glancing up you are looking at him with expectation. He had not grown much since the orphanage at eight but he knew that changing in front of you would not be wise. In response to the single brow you lifted, he held up the clothes in answer.

“Use the antechamber,” you point to the same door you had used to bring back the water.

Soon enough David is changed into new clothes and is seated on the settee stuffing his face with bread and cheese in alternating bites. Sleep overtook him with the strength of an executioner. When he stirred next he could feel your fingers parting his hair. The deep voice came again, that is what had woken him.

“Are you sure this is what you are willing to bargain for, wife?”

“John, as I am your wife in name only, I am asking for a compromise. Let me take the child as a ward and I will delay choosing a lover until he is grown and managing his own affairs.”

You present the option as if it makes sense and is the only logical choice. David slits his eyes open, taking in the pattern of your dress up close.

“I am not allowed,” David heard the fury in your words, he wondered if the duke did. “To take a lover for fear that he will feed the roses. But none of you would stoop so low as to murder a child. Heaven forbid I get to feel a modicum of love in my own home.”

“You tread a dangerous line, wife.”

Shifting fabric from behind his head has David tensing to leap up and defend you from a blow. Your fingers dig into his hair enough to give a warning, ‘Stay still.’

“No more dangerous than your lovers do, husband.”

The silence is laced with danger, it wrings his neck as if he were the queen. Your fingers tighten almost painfully on his skull. David breathes, slow and steady, matching the lie of your calming breaths.

“Are you threate—”

“I am again repeating my offer. I care for the boy as my ward; in return, I delay taking a lover so you may continue to enjoy your three without worrying about my behavior.”

David thinks not even the queen could keep her composure in this situation. You maneuvered your husband magnificently.

“You would have been a good general wife,” the Duke replies coolly.

“How fortunate for me then women are property and not people,” you reply with equal chill.

He grew, and grew, and grew. Regular meals and exercise saw David immediately falling into several growth spurts. He only wore short pants for three months before you had a tailor taking in some of your husband’s older and discarded clothes. He still wonders how much you paid the valet to sneak them out of John’s room.

David had taken to calling everyone by their first names. John and Simon were not ‘my lord’ or any other superfluous title they did not deserve, for they did not treat you as a gentleman should. Dinners were stilted in silence. You sat at one end of the great table, David seated next to you; eight chairs separated the pair of men at the end from your bright smile. They never attempted to usurp convention and sit closer, or invite either of you to move up and forgo the distance.

Your days were split between bringing David’s reading and math skills up to speed as you secured a teacher for him. Or rather David flourished under your tutelage until several teachers arrived to teach him math, French, history, Latin, and even science.

The house never suffered under the reduction in your attention. That did not stop the head butler from calling attention to the delay in requests being fulfilled.

Mr. Kyle Garrick could be no older than you. While twenty-four appeared ancient to his twelve the head butler being no more than thirty. He had never heard of such a thing below stairs, and the servants would have gossiped about it.

Kyle stood now in your office, eyes trained above your head as he spoke to you. David watched from his place at a side table; chalk pinched between his fingers and letters abandoned.

“The staff have reported that the expected deliveries have been delayed,” he clasped his hands behind his back, still not looking at you.

“Are the staff in need of an item urgently?” You look up from your correspondence. While John might manage the land, you managed the people and the tenants and the local clergy and did so without ruffling any feathers. David had to say you worked harder than your husband.

Kyle’s nose scrunched as if the question were one he would rather not answer.

“No. Not as of yet ma’am”

“And have you confirmed that the deliveries will arrive before the matter becomes urgent?” You arch a brow at your head butler.

The angry shift of his jaw tells David you are a master at stepping through this house without any of the blood you let fall onto your skirts.

“Yes,” comes the terse reply.

“Then is there anything else you need from me, Mr. Garrick?” Your face is innocent and open as Kyle’s eyes flick to you.

“No, ma’am. Thank you,” Kyle turns sharply on a heel, every line of his suit pressed to perfection.

Both you and David watch Kyle as he pauses at the door. Without turning he broaches the subject.

“Ma’am the staff have all been wondering…about the boy.”

David glances to Kyle’s hand on the doorknob. His arm shakes with the force with which he is holding it.

“David is my ward. He is confirmed as such in my will and by John’s own solicitor. If any of the staff take issue with the decision they can be dismissed immediately with a letter of recommendation and their wages due,” you reply, the chill in your tone removing all heat from your office.

The words land like arrows in Kyle’s back from the way his spine straightens.

“Yes ma’am, thank you,” he flings open the door and is gone with only a soft click of the shutting door to mark his departure.

Kyle was added to his list of people in this place who were not safe, right next to John and Simon. The head chef joined that list on the selfsame day.

Nipping down into the kitchens for a bite to eat, for feeding his hungry body only seemed to fuel more hunger, David listened to Johnny rant and rave about the lady of the house and her ‘particular tastes’ and her unwillingness to eat any meat presented to her. Something in his tone hinted that his anger grew from something deeper than a delicate palette. David did not raid the kitchen when any staff might be present from now on.

Observation was a tool that kept David safe on the streets after he had escaped the orphanage. Between his teachers and his daily meals with you, David witnessed a deepening sadness he could only attribute to your husband and his lovers.

Each night you tucked him into bed in the room next to yours. Reciting the Lord’s Prayer, reading a chapter of whatever book he had been reading, and laying a kiss on his brow were the standard. One night you laid an especially long kiss on his brow.

“I think I would have taken to my bed and never left if you had not arrived when you did David. Thank you for allowing me to save myself for you,” were the whispered words against his forehead.

Having no words for the overwhelming feelings in his chest David sat upright and hugged you tight.

“You’re the best mother I could have asked for,” came his own whispered reply.

Neither of you commented on the tears in the others eyes.

Nearly a year passed in that building others called home and he thought of it as a shared prison. At thirteen he had put on nearly a stone in weight and could hold his own academically with any boy his age who had been nurtured from the womb to stand among the peerage.

A letter from your desk, and a preemptive payment, secured him a spot at Eton in London. The household held its breath as you directed both your items and David’s to be packed for the move. John preferred the country estate but kept a home in the city for when Parliament was in session. David had missed the frigid argument that must have ensued before you were allowed to leave.

The years at Eton were grueling. Being a no-name ward to the Lady Price did not buy him the safety he would have received at being an acknowledged earl’s son. He often returned to the home he shared with you each weekend littered with bruises and with a sour mood.

It only took three weekends for you to call on your friends with children at Eton to run interference and to hire a pugilist to teach David how to handle the rest. Things didn’t get easier for nearly a year.

Returning as a fourteen-year-old with a bit more weight on his bones David channeled the attitudes he had seen both John and Simon wield to great effect and used his fists to even greater effect. His attitude and willingness to scrabble with even the boys who could be called men made the rounds. He walked away from every fight. Limping and spitting blood still counted as walking away.

Only once did David pull the attitude of the duke out with you.

“I will not be attending the picnic this weekend.”

David looked down his nose at you where you sat reading a Jane Austin novel. He stood, to give himself the illusion of height. He didn’t really mind either way about the picnic but he wanted to test his powers against you. When he looked back on the moment as a fully grown man he could see that he wanted to be sure that you could, would, still love him and keep him in hand as he grew. He wanted to know if you would protect him, even from himself.

A single finger slipped between the pages, turning it.

“David, if I do not let my husband speak to me so, why would I let you?”

The lack of emotion in your question sent sparks of fear up his spine, akin to the fireworks he had seen last year.

He remained silent and unsure how to reign in the wild horse of his mistake.

Closing your book softly you lift your eyes up to him. A wall of neutrality sat in your eyes that he hadn’t seen since leaving the country estate. Patting the seat next to you twice you waited until David sat to prune his behavior.

“Command is something given, not taken. If you wish to be a leader among men they first will need to want to follow you.” Only the sounds of carriages on the cobblestone outside the window break the silence. “My husband commands because of his birthright. I command because I have been trusted to do so. All of the charitable works I accomplish while you are in school, the lives I change, the directives I lead? These have all been trusted to me because I have proven I will not abuse them.”

David swallowed hard, lip starting to quiver.

“I’m sorry, mum,” his voice is small, a dandelion of admitting he had been wrong.

You reach up behind him, and despite the years between then and now being filled with nothing but love and gentle guidance, he still flinched. The hand on his head pulled him to your breast, soothing him as he cried.

“Trust I will care for you. Trust that I love you, David. If you have concerns we can discuss them, but no one deserves high-handedness unless they have proved themselves worthy of its censure.”

College had been his goal, the plan he would dare say. That plan flew out the window when John called David to his London office and handed him a letter.

“I have need of my wife, and our bargain has come to a conclusion. This is your commission. You will be serving under Admiral Wishart. He is expecting you on the third. The Royal William sets sail on the fifth,” John said all this with a wild gleam in his eye.

David snatched the letter from John’s hand, scanning over every word. His stomach sank further with each line he reread.

John Price had purchased a commission for him. As no law stood in the way of paying for a commission for any man, David had been promised to the crown as a soldier against his will.

Straightening to his full height David took three deep breaths to prepare his thoughts.

“She will not forgive you for this.”

“Maybe,” John shrugged, “But a woman of her age yearns for a child and with you gone, I can provide her with one.”

Civility fled with the thought of this man, so long abandoning his wife, touching her in any way filled David with nothing but rage.

“You would have better luck stealing the king’s trousers from his still awake body than bedding your wife. Good day, sir,” he infused the word sir with every ounce of hate he held for the man.

David had searched you out after leaving John’s office. Eighteen had once felt so grown, but now he knew he could be nothing more than a child masquerading as an adult. He had found you having tea with the neighbor. Pacing the front hall his hands worrying at his cuffs David swallowed hard to force the acid back into his stomach. The butler, this one old like every other butler was, announced him.

Rodgers opened the door wide for David to pass through. Instead, he caught your eye, the tears in his own clear even from the distance. Rising without removing your eyes from him you took your leave. Sliding your hand into the crook of his arm you nod for Rodgers to open the front door.

The door is not fully shut when David whips out the commission letter for you and tears streak down his face. Reading the letter three times all color leeches from your face.

“He didn’t,” you whisper, aghast.

“Mum, I’m scared,” David hugs himself, trying to keep the pieces of himself from flying in every direction. “He said you yearned for a child, and he could give you one with me gone.”

The pallor of your panic disappears until all that is left is a Duchess. You take his hand, squeezing it tight.

“You have all the skills to get through this. Wishart is a solid man to serve under and despite all his faults, John did purchase you a commission which will keep you safer than if you had volunteered. Now come and lay down in my bed and let me read to you.”

David laughed out a sob. You had not read to him like this since he went to Eton. The offer is all the sweeter because soon he won’t have a chance. Holding your hand up all the stairs he settles into your bed, arms wrapped around your middle. The soothing effect of your voice lulls him into sleep.

When he wakes he is alone in your bed and a soft sobbing drifts from the closet. He never doubted your love for him, but to hear you weep for him nailed it to the center of his soul.

He would survive the war.

Better yet he would come back decorated and rich beyond measure.

Six years passed before David could settle his feet on soil and not track his eyes around the port waiting for the bell to drag him back. He had clawed his way through the ranks; he saved so many men that when he had received his own ship as a captain he had nearly a full crew from volunteers alone. He had been made one of the youngest captains in the Navy.

Your last letter had reached him four years ago. He doubted any of his had reached you, spread out along the coasts as they were.

He and his men had eight weeks of leave while their ship was dry-docked and fixed. The first thought that crossed his might was to find you, Duchess Price, his mum.

The lamp lighters were working their way down the street as he approached the last non-floating home he had. Music drifted to the street from the open windows. Laughter and a cacophony of voices told him that a party was in full swing. Bounding up the stairs David knocked twice, loudly.

Hawthorne, the man who had served as butler when he left for the sea opened the door with an imperious look.

“Yes?” He lifted a brow.

“Hawthorne is that any way to greet the prodigal son?” David grinned and lifted both brows.

All servant’s decorum fled when Hawthorne realized who stood on the stoop.

“Master David? We all thought you dead.”

Stepping into the door David pushes it open forcing Hawthorne to let him in.

“Is the duchess in my good man?” He pats the butler on the shoulder.

“She is entertaining, bu—”

David does not wait to hear what other words might have followed. His long strides ate up the distance to the sitting room. And there you were, dressed in starlight. A healthy look on your face and a gentle smile at your current conversation companion ease the tightness in his chest that had lingered since you waved him off at the docks all those years ago.

The woman you are speaking with glances at him as he moves closer. Turning you follow her gaze. Your brows pull together as you look him over.

He had been so familiar with your thoughts when he left he can see them now. ‘This is not a guest I invited. Could he be my husband’s invite? Why does he look familiar?’ And there it is, the recognition.

“David?!”

No sign of a woman trained in moderation here, only a mum welcoming her son back from the dead. He catches you as you fling yourself into his arms. David spins you twice before settling you back on your feet.

“‘‘ello mum,” he whispered down to you.

Blinking away the tears you remember all of your guests. Turning you address the room.

“My friends, let me reintroduce you to my ward, David. He has been serving in the Royal Navy and has just returned to us,” your hand settles on his arm, fingers digging into the muscle below his sleeve.

Nodding to the room David settled his other hand on yours. That is when he shifts his head enough to find Simon and John standing together, staring daggers at him. He gifts them with a saccharine grin. They scowl all the harder.

The instant you let go of his arm they bully David into the hall and further into the study.

“When I sent you to war I did not expect you to return a captain,” John flicked at the brass on David’s chest.

“I didn’t expect you to still be holding tighter to your lover than your wife,” David eyed Simon before dropping his eyes back to John. “She never did forgive you, did she?”

David had gotten taller than he realized. Simon had towered over him as a child, now he looked down to make eye contact with the man.

“We’ll make this fast. Are you the duchess’ paramore?”

Recoiling as if he had been shot, David stared at the two men agog.

“This is the longest I have been on land since I left to fulfill my commission and you are asking if I am bedding the woman who I view as a mother?” Disgust dripped off every word. “What in the nine hells led you to that conclusion?”

John and Simon share a look.

“There is a report that the duchess took a lover. A man of large stature who has not been seen in polite society before,” John explains, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Smirking, David can’t help the rush of pride that fills his chest. You were still holding your own.

“Must burn you up inside, both of you, that she continues to hold you at bay,” David gloated.

“And how would you know that so recently returned to land?” Simon snapped at him.

“It’s clear from this conversation.” David gestures between them, “You waited too long to offer her love and she found the idea of your bitter fruit repugnant, didn’t she?”

The sour look on their faces had David folding in half laughing.

“And now she has taken a lover and you mistook me for her paramore,” David clutched at his stomach as the laughter continued. “Ah, this is such a better reunion than I had hoped for.”

“This is not a laughing matter, boy,” John chastised him.

Standing tall David wiped the tears that had leaked from his eyes.

“On the contrary I find this to be the funniest thing I have heard in nearly a year. When the duchess brought me into your home as a child she did so to fill the void you left her with. Had you loved her, any of you or your lovers, she would not have taken me in to fill that hole. But more’s the loss for you. Now when you can finally see the gem you threw away, I hope it burns.”

David threw open the door of the study. He left behind him two men who would forever regret not seeing the gem in their midst. Rejoining you in the party he answered your questioning look with a smile and a shake of his head.

When at last all the guests are tucked into their carriages and heading for home you pull David into your sitting room and lock the door. It is here you are able to take his face between your hands and study him like a vicar does the bible. Seated on the settee, he lets you examine him and ensure for yourself that he is well.

“You scared me, David. I thought you were dead. No one could confirm if you were alive or dead for so long I went into mourning for you.”

The thought of you wearing black for him tugged at his heart.

“We were pulled into a series of secret missions, our still being alive was not reported anywhere. I doubt even your husband would have been able to find the information on us if he had asked,” David bumped your forehead with his own.

Letting his face go with a laugh he can finally appreciate the fact you are more beautiful than when he took to the sea. It’s no wonder there are rumors of you taking a lover.

“Is it true you have taken a paramore?” David leans back into the seat.

His eyes go wide as you squirm slightly. He sits straight again and stares at you as you grab a shawl left within reach.

“Mum?”

“It is not that simple, David,” you hedge.

“I am a smart man, you made sure of that. Now tell me, please,” he took one of your hands between his.

Heaving a great sigh you look at the man your son had become.

“After John signed you away to death I nearly perished. My heart had been broken and I knew deep in my soul you would not return to me.” Curling your fingers around his you look at them as you continue, “The crown asked that I help host a collection of the Austrian aristocracy. The task gave me something to focus on. It was no more than something to fill my time until the fourth set of visitors. I meet one Lukas König, a lord.”

Your words peter out as your shifting and squirming increase.

“Go on,” David encourages.

“It did not begin as it has progressed. He makes me laugh and listens and values my opinion,” you speak as if pleading your case before a judge.

You look up at him, searching for something. He must not provide the answer you are looking for because you tuck your chin to your chest again.

“Mum,” David frees one hand to lift your chin to see your tear-stained eyes, “What do you need from me to be free of this prison? A divorce? I know men close to the Archbishop and am willing to call in all my favors to see you happy.”

Tears begin to stream down your cheeks, so different from the ones earlier squeezed from his eyes by laughter.

“You would do that for me?” The breaks in your voice hurt him deeply.

“For the woman that saved me time and again? For you who became my mother when you did not need to? I would do anything for you, including delivering you to Austria myself.”

“David, my son, I think I will take you up on that offer.”

Before he heads back to the sea, David will see you to the arms of a man who loves you. He will know you are safe and when he returns to you he expects to have at least one sibling. He keeps that thought tucked behind his smile.

Masterlist

#cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #dukedom au #noona inspired this #konig x you #konig x reader #lostintransist writing #x reader #poly 141 #angsty au #but it ends happy

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shinningdance · 2 months ago

Text

a/n: AHHHHHHHHH

kinda part 2 to this??

Summary: the guys get their shit together. ヾ(≧▽≦)ヾ

Warnings: description of death, a bit graphic...haha

Words: 3,228

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You were woken up in the middle of the night by a loud scream besides you, your eyes open before your mind could register anything.

Leo was starring at you with wide eyes, tears streaming down his full cheeks. After a few weeks of 'living' with you in the manor he was finally starting to gain healthy weight. A small moment passes where no one says anything, Leo too ashamed by the fact he's crying and your mind still clouded by sleep.

The young boy breaks once more under your worried gaze, his first instinct was to hide under the blanket. You were able to hear his crying and sniffling, his shaky form under the blanket impossible to ignore.

That's why when John enters, his breath came in quick, heavy gasps, he seems to understand and doesn't intervene. He stays by the door, watching as you rub Leos back through the blanket.

"Leo.." You whisper and wait until he slowly sticks his head out from under the bedding. "..Nightmare?" You guessed and offer him a sympathetic smile.

He nods and slowly crawls into your open arms, head tucked under your chin. You arms go around him instantly, like second nature.

"It was so real..." He mumbles out and presses his cheek against your collerbone.

"That's how most nightmares are, even i get them.." You answer, patting his head lightly.

"But it's embarrassing when a man has them.." his voice is so small and weak you almost didn't hear him.

"It's not." John counters, pushing himself of the door and slowly walking towards the bed. "Even i can't fight them..nothing to be embarrassed about."

If Leo wasn't so shaken up by the nightmare, he probably would have 'attacked' the older men by just simply being in your room, let alone sitting on your bed. Leo tightens his grip on your nightgown, refusing to let go but also refusing to look away from John.

"Wanna tell us what your nightmare was about?" he hums at Leo and meets your eyes, waiting for your permission to lay down in the bed. Most men wouldn't even think about asking, simply doing so because they're the man. You nod slowly and watch as he lays down, Leo now laying between you two.

"It...it was about my parents." The boy mumbles out, eyes fixed on your hand in his, a grounding touch. Leo never talked about his parents but you had assumptions, given that he's always here his parents either didn't care or..."their death..i dreamed about their death, again." Leo confirms your second guess.

Your hand automatically tightens around his, thumb brushing over his palm. "I'm sorry Leo..." You mumble and press a small kiss to the top of his head.

He shakes his head mumbling a small 'don't be'. "They were killed..i watched those men tear them apart. In my dream...those men were after me." More tears stream down his face, you wipe them away using both hands.

"Then you sleep and i'll stand guard, make sure they don't get here." John offers, eyeing the small boy.

Leo's eyes snap up to meet his, then yours. "It's your decision.." You smile and nod, giving him a choice.

"Please.." He mumbles and hides his face in your arm, trying to not blush.

"Of course." John smiles and stands up, walking to the door to play guard.

Leo is out quick, snuggled up right besides you. John kept his word, still playing guard by the door as he watches the boy sleep.

"You can leave you know, he's asleep." You smile at Leo, brushing away some of his hair.

"Promised him i'd stay the night to guard the door." A small yawn escapes his lips by the end of the sentence.

"You can sleep here..if you want." You never saw his head snap up so fast.

"Duchess, You don't have to say that if you don't want to I'm perfectly fine-"

"I wouldn't offer if i had a problem with it."

After a small moment he smiles and walks to the bed, getting under the covers next to Leo.

"Goodnight Duchess."

"Goodnight John.."

--------------------------------

Your pillow is hard. Why is it so uncomfortable? You move slightly to the right and your head drops slightly, landing on something a bit softer. With a happy hum you pull what you assume is Leo closer to your chest.

The bedroom is warm and slightly messy, with soft morning light streaming through the curtains. The bed is large, the blankets tangled from the night. The pillows are scattered, one noticeably firmer than the others—no wonder it felt uncomfortable.

A deep chuckle rumbles beneath you, warm and low. Your eyes flutter open, still hazy with sleep, only to be met with the sight of John's amused expression, his lips curved into a smirk.

"Morning to you too, Duchess," he teases, voice rough from sleep.

Your drowsy mind takes a moment to catch up before realization crashes over you like a wave. Your pillow isn’t a pillow at all—it’s John’s chest. And the warmth you're curled around, the steady heartbeat beneath your palm, belongs entirely to him.

Leo is still tucked against your side, completely undisturbed. But John? Oh, he’s very much awake, watching you with that infuriating, knowing look.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you scramble back, nearly knocking poor Leo awake in the process. "I—" Words fail you, and John's smirk only deepens.

"Didn’t know you were so fond of me, Duchess," he muses, stretching lazily.

You scowl, huffing as you turn away. "Don’t flatter yourself. I was half-asleep."

"Uh-huh. Sure you were."

Leo stirs beside you, mumbling in his sleep before nuzzling closer, completely unaware of your current mortification. You exhale, shaking your head.

"Just go back to sleep, John."

He chuckles again but obliges, settling back down. "Whatever you say, Duchess."

It takes a while for your heart to stop racing, but eventually, you give up and just stay awake—this time, making very sure to keep your so-called ‘pillow’ at a respectable distance.

The door opens, revealing Kyle carrying a tray of breakfast.

Kyle pauses mid-step, eyes scanning the scene before him. His brows lift slightly, amusement flickering in his expression.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” he drawls, setting the tray down on the nightstand.

John groans, rubbing a hand down his face. “Kyle, not now.”

“Oh, I think now is the perfect time,” Kyle grins, crossing his arms. “Waking up next to your wife? That’s a bold move.”

You shoot him a glare, heat creeping up your neck. “It was to help Leo sleep, Kyle.”

“Uh-huh.” He smirks. “And yet, here we are.”

Before you can fire back, Leo shifts against you, letting out a soft, sleepy sigh. The room quiets instantly, all teasing forgotten as you glance down at him. His face is peaceful, no sign of last night’s nightmares lingering in his expression.

He rubs his eyes and blinks up at you, then sitting up at the sight of the two men. "Breakfast?" Leo mumbles and nuzzles further into your arm.

"Right here." Kyle smiles and walks to the bed, holding out a plate of Leos favorite breakfast. "prepared personally by Johnny."

Leo eagerly grabs the plate and starts showing down the sweet pancakes followed by a small piece of mango.

you gently brush Leo’s messy hair away from his forehead. "Slow down, Leo. You’ll choke."

Leo pauses, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk, before giving you an exaggerated nod and chewing slower.

Kyle sits at the edge of the bed, watching the boy with a satisfied expression. "Glad to see someone appreciates our efforts."

John shakes his head but lets it go, his gaze drifting toward you. "How’d you sleep?"

You hesitate for a moment, the memory of waking up on him still too fresh. "Well enough," you say quickly, reaching for your own tea. "Better than Leo, at least."

Leo hums in agreement, swinging his legs as he eats. "I didn’t dream this time," he murmurs between bites. "You being there helped."

Your heart squeezes at his words. You give his shoulder a small squeeze in return. "I’m glad, sweetheart."

John, who had been leaning back on his hands, suddenly straightens. "I think we should get him out of the manor for a bit today. A change of scenery."

Leo’s chewing slows as he looks up at John. "Where?"

John glances at you, as if waiting for your approval. "I was thinking the lake. It’s quiet, no crowds. Figured some fresh air would do everyone some good."

Leo looks at you with wide, hopeful eyes. "Can we?"

You smile. "If that’s what you want, then yes, of course."

Leo nods eagerly, his entire demeanor brightening at the idea.

Kyle claps his hands together. "Alright then, a little outing it is! I’ll make sure the carriage is ready."

John exhales, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "Good. Kid needs a break."

And maybe, just maybe, so did all of you.

-------------------------------

Sadly neither John nor Kyle could come to the planned outing, but Simon joined.

The lake is nestled in a quiet clearing, surrounded by tall trees that sway gently in the breeze. The water is calm, reflecting the soft blue of the sky with only the occasional ripple disturbing its surface. Wildflowers dot the grassy shoreline, their colors bright against the green. A few smooth rocks line the edge of the water, perfect for skipping stones.

The air is fresh, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and pine. Birds chirp in the distance, their songs blending with the soft lapping of the lake against the shore. It’s peaceful, untouched—a perfect escape from the heaviness of the manor.

Leo wasn’t too thrilled about the change in plans. His excitement dimmed slightly when he realized John and Kyle wouldn’t be coming, but the moment Simon ruffled his hair and promised to teach him how to skip stones across the lake, his mood lifted again.

Now, sitting on the soft grass by the water, Leo was utterly focused, brows furrowed in determination as he clutched a flat stone in his small hands. You watched from a nearby tree stump, a gentle smile playing on your lips.

"Alright, lad," Simon crouched beside him, rolling a stone between his fingers. "You don’t just throw it—you flick your wrist like this," he demonstrated with an easy, practiced motion, sending the stone bouncing across the water’s surface. "See? Like magic."

Leo nodded, mimicking the movement as he tossed his own rock. It hit the water with a plunk and sank immediately. His shoulders sagged.

Simon chuckled, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "You’ll get it. Took me a few tries too."

"You?" Leo gave him a skeptical look. "You don’t mess up."

Simon covered his mouth with his hand to hide the small chuckle that escaped his lips. "Oh, if only that were true, little one." He glanced at you, a knowing glint in his eye. "Isn’t that right, Duchess?"

You smirked. "Oh, he messes up plenty." even if Leo doesn't understand the second meaning of your words, Simon sure does.

Leo giggled, the last of his disappointment fading. He picked up another stone, more determined than ever.

For a while, the three of you sat in comfortable peace, the sound of the water lapping against the shore filling the air. It was nice—simple. A rare moment where none of you had to worry about anything beyond skipping stones and enjoying the warm sun.

Eventually, Simon leaned back on his hands, watching Leo attempt another throw. "John would’ve liked this," he mused.

You hummed in agreement. "He would."

"He’ll sulk when he hears he missed it," Simon added with a smirk.

You laughed softly. "Oh, absolutely."

Leo suddenly gasped, pointing excitedly at the lake. "I did it! I did it!"

Both you and Simon turned just in time to see the ripples spreading across the water.

Simon grinned. "Told you you’d get it."

Leo beamed, turning to you for approval. You pulled him into a quick hug. "I’m so proud of you."

He basked in the praise, grinning ear to ear.

For the first time in a long while, Leo wasn’t haunted by nightmares or dark memories. He was just a boy by the lake, skipping stones and laughing in the sun.

But every moment must come to an end.

A few days later you had to leave Leo and the men who have finally manged to capture your heart. You were supposed to return over a week ago, no letters as a warning for your late coming, nothing. Everyone was worried, no one has seen your carriage or the two knights you left with.

Not long after John sent out a search party, desperate to find you. Simon was in charge of this.

Another two weeks went by. No answers, nothing and no one was found.

The duchy grew colder, Leo was barely eating, even if Johnny prepared his favorite meals.

He barely slept, nightmares keeping him awake and now you weren't here to calm him down. John tried his best to take over that role.

Leos head was tucked under his chin as he cried in the older mans lap. "When is she coming back..?" Leo sniffled, eyes red from all the tears.

John only sighed. "I do not know, we haven't found anything."

"But she'll be back...right?"

"...I'm sure we'll find her."

"Promise?" Leo held out his pinky finger, looking at the man with sad eyes.

John stared at the tiny hand before pressing the boy closer to him. "We'll do everything we can to find her."

---------------------

Another two days pass before they finally got the news from one of the knights. "We found her."

Leo jumped up from the seat at the table, barely held back by Johnny whos smile has never been brighter.

"Thank goodness, where is she now?" John stands up, cleaning his hands with a cloth.

The knight shifted uncomfortably, eyes drifting to the ground. "Well...we found parts of her..."

Kyle froze, the knife he was putting away falling to the floor. "Parts? What do you mean parts?"

"we found her carriage and the two nights, both men dead, throat cut open...and we found the Duchesses right leg by the waterfall near by, her torso was found by an abandoned road and her head..."

The knight hesitated, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. His eyes flickered between the men before landing on Leo, whose small hands clutched the fabric of John’s coat so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Kyle’s voice was sharp, demanding. “Where’s her head?”

The knight flinched before forcing the words out. “We… we haven’t found it yet.”

Silence filled the room, suffocating and unbearable.

Leo's breathing hitched, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. "No—no, she's not—" His voice cracked, and suddenly he was struggling against John's grip, trying to run past him. "You're lying! She’s not dead! You said you’d find her!"

John’s arms tightened around him, keeping the boy pressed against his chest as he trembled, but his own hands were shaking. His mind raced, screaming at him to reject the knight’s words, to demand another search, another explanation—anything but this.

Kyle ran a hand through his hair, his usual smirk completely gone. His lips parted like he wanted to argue, to deny reality, but nothing came out.

Simon, who had just entered the room, took one look at their faces and froze. “What’s going on?” he asked cautiously.

No one spoke.

The knight looked away, unable to repeat himself.

Simon’s gaze darted to Leo, who was sobbing into John's coat, then to Kyle, who was gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping him standing, then to Johnny who's still holding the dessert he prepared for Leo. Finally, his eyes landed on John.

“…No,” he said quietly, a statement, not a question. His voice was flat, void of anything except pure disbelief. “Tell me it’s not her.”

John inhaled sharply through his nose, but he couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Because saying it out loud would make it real.

And that—he wasn’t ready for that.

The room felt wrong.

Too quiet, too cold.

Leo’s muffled sobs were the only sound breaking the silence, his small body shaking violently in John's grasp. The boy clung to him like a lifeline, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would make the words true.

John hadn’t moved. His breathing was slow, too controlled—like he was holding something back, something violent, something unbearable.

Johnny, always the loudest, always the one to brush things off with a joke, just… stood there. He was staring at the floor, jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful. His hands, usually steady and sure, trembled at his sides.

Simon was the last to move. He took slow, measured steps toward the knight, his face unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes.

“What do you mean,” he said, his voice low, dangerous, “you haven’t found her head?”

The knight hesitated. “We’re still searching the area, sir. The remains were… scattered.”

Scattered.

Something in John snapped.

Leo flinched as John stood suddenly, his grip loosening just enough for Johnny to pull the boy into his own arms. John’s fists were clenched, his entire body coiled like a predator ready to strike.

“How.” The word was barely above a whisper, but it carried more weight than any shout could.

The knight stiffened, but he continued, though his voice wavered. “The scene… it wasn’t a simple ambush. This was deliberate. Her body was placed in different locations—someone wanted to make a statement.”

A statement.

Kyle let out a breath, sharp and bitter. “Bastards.”

John didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His mind was a storm, raging and violent. He had been prepared to search for you. To bring you home. To fight for you. But now—

There was no one to bring home.

Leo clutched Kyle’s coat, shaking his head in denial. “No. She’s not—” He hiccupped, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She’s coming back.”

John finally moved, his head tilting downward as his hands loosened at his sides. His entire frame shook, but his voice—when he finally spoke—was eerily calm.

“Who.”

The knight hesitated.

“Who did this.”

“We… We don’t know yet, sir. But—”

“Then find out.”

The room stilled.

John lifted his gaze, and for the first time, the knight truly saw the storm brewing behind those eyes. Cold. Calculating.

Deadly.

“Find out,” John repeated, slow and deliberate. “And when you do…” He stepped forward, just close enough for the knight to feel the weight of his presence. “Tell me where they are.”

The knight swallowed thickly. “Sir—”

John didn’t blink. “Because I’m going to tear them apart.”

Simon exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face before speaking. “Not alone, you’re not.” His voice was lower now, darker, and when John looked at him, there was something in his eyes—something sharp, something vengeful.

Kyle’s usual carefree mask was gone. He was quiet, his hand running soothingly through Leo’s hair as the boy trembled in his arms. But when he lifted his gaze, his expression was set, his decision already made.

“I’ll prepare the horses.”

John nodded once. No hesitation.

Because grief could wait.

Vengeance could not.

--------

a/n: pls don't kill me q(≧▽≦q)

also i'm sorry @beloveds-embrace for lying yesterday(and today), this was always gonna be angsty :DD not proofread and we stan Shuri in this household!!