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beloveds-embrace · 2 months ago

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The potential for Yandere Dukedom au has me rattling the bars of my enclosure! Begging on my hands and knees for it!!?

I gotchu anon 🫡 dukedom au masterlist (hasn’t been fully updated yet)

You had always been told that marriage was a duty, not a dream. Love is for poets and fools, your mother had said. You’d grown up knowing that your life was a delicate dance on high society’s tightrope, and failure would mean a fall that could ruin your family’s name forever. And if the failure itself was not your end, you family's response would be.

So, when the proposal came from Duke John Price- an older, respectable man with no scandal to his name- you accepted it with quiet resignation. A Duchess, at least, would hold some measure of authority, and John Price was no cruel man. It certainly quietened your parents' frantic mumbling of why no one was asking for your hand, stopped them from accusing you of doing anything inappropriate under their noses.

You expected a lonely life, but hopefully a painless one.

What you didn’t expect was the warmth.

The household welcomed you as if you were a long-lost treasure. The head butler, Kyle, was a marvel, guiding you through your new responsibilities with patience and quiet charm. The estate’s chef, Johnny, fed you meals so exquisite you sometimes wondered if you’d been starved your whole life. And the Duke’s closest friend, Simon, treated you with a quiet protectiveness that was as comforting as it was unnerving.

John himself was kind, though reserved. He assured you on your wedding night that there was no rush for an heir, blue eyes soft yet unreadable. You’d been grateful for his restraint, retreating to the safety of your role as Duchess while leaving love to the poets and fools just as your mother had said.

But the warmth never waned.

Kyle’s attentiveness went beyond what was required of a butler, beyond even that of a friend though you'd never admit that to yourself. He always seemed to know when you needed a shawl before you felt the chill, when you needed a quiet walk in the garden instead of a crowded ballroom, his arm looped with yours pressing you almost fully against the warmth of his body. Dark eyes followed you with something almost reverent, though you dismissed it as your mind straying from you.

Johnny’s meals grew more tailored to your tastes with each passing day. He’d tease you as he presented your plate, a boyish grin on his face as he watched you savor every bite. “You're too good for this kitchen, lass.” He’d joke, though his tone carried an edge of sincerity that made your cheeks warm. "Though I would nae want you anywhere else."

Simon was the hardest to read. He rarely spoke to you, but his presence was a constant shadow. He would escort you to galas when John could not join, his broad frame a silent barrier between you and prying eyes, and he'd be your sole dance partner throughout the night. His gaze lingered a little too long when you danced with your husband, too, though you never noticed how it darkened when anyone else dared to approach you.

And then there was John.

The Duke had a way of watching you that made your skin tingle. At first, you thought it was scrutiny, a husband assessing his new wife. But as the months passed, his gaze softened. He began joining you for tea in the afternoons, his deep voice rumbling as he asked about your day. His hand would brush against yours as he handed you a cup, lingering just a moment too long, and only pulling away when he'd notice you flustering.

Eventually, you grew accustomed to the quiet intensity of your household, never once suspecting the storm that brewed beneath the surface like a raging beast.

It wasn’t until a year into your marriage that the cracks began to fully show.

It started with a simple comment at another gala. Lady Fitzgerald, a sharp-tongued widow with too much time on her hands, had leaned in close, whispered, and tsked. “Still no heir, my dear? One wonders if the Duke regrets his choice.”

You had smiled politely, excusing yourself before the tears could spill- because she was not the first, nor will be the last, and she despised your mother and you knew she would hear of this, as well. But the moment you returned to John’s side, he knew. His hand tightened around yours, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Lady Fitzgerald tittering with some other ladies. He hadn't said much, but he kept you close to his side after that and you had no protests.

The next morning, you learned that Lady Fitzgerald had decided to leave town for an indefinite period- her son was found dead early in the morning, and by the time he was found by his wife, the rainy weather had washed away all traces that could be used to identify the murderer.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Kyle had remarked, though his tone suggested it was anything but. You hadn't noticed at that time, and then forgot about when Johnny and Kyle worked so hard to remove that furrow in your brows until you were smiling once more. And you did not ask Simon where he was taking the newspaper when he asked for it, nor did you wonder why John held the air of a particularly satisfied cat.

From then on, the protectiveness of your household grew more palpable. Kyle began shadowing you more closely, always within arm’s reach. Johnny’s playful teasing took on an edge, his jokes about locking you in the kitchen too pointed to be entirely humorous. Simon’s presence became impossibly more imposing, his silent stares daring anyone to look at you the wrong way.

And John… John grew possessive, and you noticed all of it.

He began escorting you to every event, his arm a constant weight around your waist. He dismissed servants who so much as looked at you the wrong way, their replacements carefully vetted. His touch grew bolder, his kisses lingering on your forehead, your hand, your neck.

You didn’t notice how often he murmured, “My Duchess.” as if to remind you- and everyone else- of who you belonged to.

One evening, as you sat by the fire with John, the warmth of the room making you drowsy, he spoke.

“Do you love me, wife?”

The question startled you, your eyes snapping open to meet his. His expression was unreadable, blue eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race within your chest like a hummingbird.

“I… Of course, John. You’re my husband.”

He hummed, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “That’s not what I asked.”

You hesitated, unsure of what he wanted to hear. “I… I care for you deeply.”

His grip tightened, just enough to make you notice. “That’s not enough, my Duchess."

Before you could respond, the door opened, and Kyle entered with a tray of tea. He set it down with practiced ease, eyes flicking to you before settling on John.

“Will there be anything else?”

John’s gaze didn’t leave yours. “Yes. Stay.”

Kyle’s brow lifted slightly, but he obeyed, taking a seat across from you. The tension in the room was suffocating, though neither man seemed bothered, and you couldn't yet bring yourself to speak or pull your hand away.

It was Johnny who entered next, his usual grin replaced by something far more subdued. He took his place by the fire, his eyes darting between you and John, and something satisfied flickered in his gaze.

Finally, Simon appeared, towering frame filling the doorway. He said nothing as he entered, yet his presence was a silent command. You've been here long enough to know that there is something between all of them, but you hadn't dared bring it up in fear of breaking what could be a very fragile... thing.

You looked at each of them in turn, your confusion mounting. “What’s going on?”

John leaned closer, his lips brushing against the back of your hand. “We’ve been patient, my Duchess. But I think it’s time you understood.”

“Understood what?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Johnny’s grin returned, sharp and wolfish. “That you are ours, lass. Always have been.”

Kyle nodded, softening. “We’ve loved you long before you even knew our names.”

Simon’s hand rested on your shoulder- when did he get so close?- and his touch was gentle. “And we’ll make sure you never forget it.”

John’s other hand cupped your cheek, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re not just my wife, darling. You’re ours. And we’ll do whatever it takes to keep you that way.”

The fire crackled in the silence that followed, its warmth nothing compared to the way they peered at you, and the firelight cast flickering shadows across the room, wrapping the four men in a golden glow that only heightened the weight of their presence. You swallowed thickly, your gaze darting between them, searching for some explanation, some reassurance, that this was all a misunderstanding. But deep down, the way their words wrapped around you like ropes and chains, the fierce devotion in their eyes that you'd seen only in the most devoted of the churches, sparked something you weren’t ready to name.

“I-I don’t understand,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “What do you mean, you’ve always loved me? We… we only met after the marriage proposal…”

Johnny let out a low chuckle, his accent thick and his grin sharp enough to cut. “Oh, lass, you really think that? That our John just happened upon you like some fairytale?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. A little closer, and he would be able to kneel in front of you. “We’ve been watchin’ you for years.”

“For years?” The room spun for a moment, and you grasped the armrest of your chair. “What do you mean? Why would you- ”

Kyle leaned forward, eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you shiver. “Because you’ve always been ours, my lady. From the first moment we saw you. We knew it then, and John sealed it the day he put that ring on your finger.”

Simon’s gloved hand slid from your shoulder to the curve of your neck, his fingers resting lightly against your pulse. “We’ve waited. Played the roles. Watched you be the perfect Duchess for us.”

“Perfect,” Johnny echoed, his grin softening into something dangerously tender. “You were made for us, darling. Couldn't let anyone else have you, our treasure."

John’s grip on your hand was firm, grounding, as if daring you to pull away. “You think I proposed out of convenience, don’t you? Because society demanded it?”

You nodded slowly, words failing you under the weight of their gazes.

His chuckle was low, humorless. “Convenience had nothing to do with it. You were chosen. Handpicked to stand by my side- and by theirs. Did you truly think so little of yourself, that you never wondered why no one was asking for your hand, dearest?"

“I… I never…” Your words faltered as the pieces began to fit together. The strange familiarity in Kyle’s guidance when you first arrived, so easily fitting into the way you worked. Johnny’s uncanny ability to prepare your favorite dishes, even those you hadn’t mentioned. Simon’s quiet, watchful presence that always seemed to know where you were. John’s unyielding devotion to your well-being, even when it bordered on overbearing.

“You’ve all been… orchestrating this?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why?”

Kyle’s hand rested on your knee, the warmth of his touch seeping through your gown. “Because you’re ours to protect. To love. To cherish. No one else can give you what we can.”

Johnny’s grin widened, though his eyes were soft. “And no one else will, lass. We’ll see to that.”

“Forever.” Simon rumbled, his voice like a promise carved into stone.

John leaned closer, his forehead brushing against yours as his fingers slid under your chin to tilt your face up to his. “You’re not going anywhere, love. You belong to us. And we belong to you.”

The fire crackled again, the sound startling in the heavy silence that followed. Your heart pounded, a mix of fear, confusion, and… something else.

You should have been alarmed- should have pushed them away, demanded they explain themselves further. But you couldn’t deny the truth buried beneath their words. They had woven themselves into your life, wrapped you in their devotion, and with every gesture, every sacrifice, they had proven they would do anything for you. For the first time in your life, you felt truly seen, cared for, and adored. It was overwhelming, suffocating… but not unwelcome.

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you met John’s gaze, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. “You’ve all done so much for me,” you whispered. “You’ve given me more than I ever thought I deserved.”

Kyle’s hand tightened on your knee, his expression softening with something like relief. “Because you deserve the world, my lady.”

Johnny leaned closer, his grin tempered with warmth. “And we’ll give it to you, every last piece of it.”

Simon’s hand on your neck steadied you, his touch grounding in its quiet strength. “You don’t need to fight us. We’ll always take care of you.”

John’s lips brushed against your forehead, his voice low and certain. “We’ll never let you feel unloved again. You’re ours, darling. And you always will be. Don't fight against this, please."

The room seemed to exhale with you, the tension melting into something else entirely. They weren’t letting go- and, if you were honest with yourself...

You didn’t want them to.

(And even if you wanted them to, they would have not. Never, ever.)

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