#Sweetheart Abbey | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hypnoneghoul · 5 months

Text

Tidal Temptations

WC: 1,2K

Relationship: Rain/Swiss

Tags: Tail Masturbation, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Gill Fingering, Water Sex

For Swiss’ and Rain’s defense, their evening started out innocently as well. They decided to go swim in the lake, just because it was really nice outside and they didn’t have anything better to do. Swiss should’ve known there would be no innocent thoughts in his head once he laid his eyes on Rain’s fully unglamoured, aquatic form.

Notes: the king of gill fucking is back again heh

Read under the cut or on AO3.

The warm summer evenings the ghouls had a chance to spend back at the Abbey were usually peaceful. Some were napping inside, some outside and some were engaging in a bit less… restful activities.

Swiss should’ve known there would be no innocent thoughts in his head once he laid his eyes on Rain’s fully unglamoured, aquatic form. Even disguised as a human he was annoyingly attractive, and the multi ghoul couldn’t be blamed for getting horny… Could he?

After a few minutes of just swimming around with no real purpose, Swiss’ eyes started to linger on Rain just for a bit longer every time. He took on admiring each and every little feature that made Rain Rain and there was so much he got lost in it.

As always. Every damn time, for years now.

The water ghoul knew, of course he did. He was not only well aware of his general beauty but also the effect he had on Swiss specifically. He had him all but wrapped around his little finger.

Swiss didn’t even try to be secretive, blatantly staring at Rain over and under the water, gluing his eyes to whatever the other would allow him to see. He wanted so badly to swim up to Rain and touch him, feel all those scales under his calloused fingertips, the soft fins in his mouth.

He knew he had to wait for an invitation.

An invitation he got, of sorts, but only when he was already hard and dripping into the water surrounding them.

“Hey, Swiss,” Rain called out from basically the other side of the lake, but before Swiss could reply, the water ghoul was already gone, the surface of the lake left rippled where he was just a second before.

The multi ghoul looked around—not even thinking of bringing his quintessence into the equation—scanning the water for any signs of where Rain might reemerge.

He didn’t.

Swiss let out a gasp as something soft and leathery wrapped around his leg out of nowhere, followed by a grip of clawed hands on his thighs. “Hi, Raincloud.”

Only then did Rain poke his head out of the water, grinning up at Swiss brightly, his cerulean eyes glowing. “I see someone got all hot and bothered over me… again.”

“I– well, can’t deny it now, can I?” Swiss chuckled, a slight tinge of nervousness in his laugh. Damn Rain for being the only person in existence able to make Swiss actually nervous.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Rain purred, nuzzling into the multi ghoul’s neck, licking up his pulse. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Rainy–” Swiss sighed, smoothing his hands up and down the flawless skin of Rain’s back as the water ghoul’s cold hands slid his swimming trunks down to his knees. His hard cock sprung out and hit his belly, water muffling the slapping sound it would surely make in different conditions.

Rain put on a faux pout at that, tutting, “So, so hard.”

“Yeah, baby, please…”

“Begging already?” he teased and dragged a sharp claw up Swiss’ stomach, ending up on his chest, tweaking a perky nipple. The multi ghoul let out a quiet moan, a putty in Rain’s hands.

He wouldn’t make him wait for much longer, though, there’d be countless more occasions to tease and edge Swiss into deliriousness. Rain swiftly moved down, asking his water to aid Swiss in keeping afloat, and the next thing the multi ghoul knew was Rain’s lips closing around the tip of his dick.

He moaned, all whorish, suddenly assaulted with the feeling of Rain’s skilled mouth on him, the wet tightness sliding down and down his length until he could feel the water ghoul’s nose digging into the soft pudge of his lower belly.

Lord Below, how Swiss loved the fact that Rain had gills.

The multi ghoul screwed his eyes shut so hard it hurt, crying out a whine after a whine, voice carrying over the water, as Rain was working him closer and closer to his orgasm. “Rain, fuck–”

Swiss could feel Rain uncurling an arm from his legs, the claws disappearing on their way in between them. The water ghoul cupped his balls, squeezing a few times. He let go when Swiss’ whole body tensed, too close to bursting for Rain’s liking, and moved further into the back, petting a finger around his ass.

Rain didn’t need to do much to bring the multi ghoul to the brink in a few moments, swallowing his cock over and over again along with gulps of water, his tongue teasing the thick vein running along the underside of Swiss’ dick and his finger slipping into his hole, second one following shortly.

“Oh my god, Raincloud, f– fuck,” he babbled, pathetically flopping his arms by his sides, splashing the water. “Y- you feel so good, oh shit, Rain, baby…”

No response reached him but a hand grabbing his own and bringing it to Rain’s neck, setting it down over his gills. Even as fucked out as he was already, Swiss got the hint, getting his shaking under control. At least enough to not hurt the water ghoul’s fragile organs.

Looking down into the slightly murky water, Swiss was pretty sure Rain was lazily jerking himself off with his own tail, while he focused on making the multi ghoul completely lose his mind. Swiss gently parted purple fins covering the gills and dipped his fingers inside, having enough experience to know how to make Rain as good as possible. He slid the rough tips of his fingers along the slimy, ridged surface and softly curved upwards, pressing down onto the spongy membrane. Rain’s own moan vibrated through Swiss’ cock, making it kick in reply where it was nestled down the water ghoul’s throat.

“Lucifer, Rainc-cloud, I– I’m gonna–” Swiss whined, so high pitched he felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. Rain didn’t seem to mind, neither the noise nor Swiss being this close. Quite the opposite, actually. The multi ghoul noticed him speed up the movement of his tail on himself just as he doubled down on getting Swiss to cum. Rain bobbed his head in time with little thrust of his fingers, hollowing his cheeks and tightening his throat.

“Oh, so good, baby, oh– I– fuck, I’m–” and with last squeeze Swiss was gone, cumming hot down Rain’ throat. The responding moan and shudder from the water ghoul told Swiss he just came too, and kept milking him for all his worth.

“Ohhh, my god,” the multi ghoul sighed, running a wet hand over his face. “Rain, baby, come up here. Please?”

He obliged, breaking the surface and smiling up at the other, so innocently—like he didn’t just make him cum his brains out—as he cupped Swiss’ face, damp with lakewater and sweat.

“You make such pretty noises, sweetheart,” Rain chuckled, running his thumb over Swiss’ cheekbone as he held his face. “All for me.”

“You evil little thing,” Swiss grumbled, even leaning into the water ghoul’s soft touch with a purr. “All for you.”

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #rain ghoul #swiss ghoul #gill smut #rulti

157 notes · View notes

coffeeghoulie · 2 months

Text

got a feeling inside that i can't domesticate

surprise! secret sixth chapter/epilogue of Eternal Heatstroke! (though you don't have to have read that to read this lol)

3.2k of Swiss and Aeon getting their well-earned rest after the end of the Re-Imperatour, with bonus fire ghoul courting rituals, mild miscommunication, and Aether and Dew giving each other Looks about the new lovebugs.

Title from Bishops Knife Trick by Fall Out Boy

this one goes out to @ghuleh-recs, wishing her a very happy birthday!

Aeon's not quite sure what day it is.

They had come home after months and months on the road, the Re-Imperatour done some time ago. Dew had barreled off of the bus, nearly tackling a waiting Aether to the ground, Sunny had been successfully tackled by the three other ghoulettes, and Mountain and Rain had greeted their packmates, giving them tight hugs before promptly retreating to the forest and the lake respectively.

Swiss and Aeon had stepped off the bus together, fingers still laced together, heading straight for the ghoul dorms through the marble hallways of the Abbey. The soles of their boots echoed through the empty halls, the clergy and siblings gone to celebrate Papa's return and the end of a successful tour.

"I'm a ghoul of my word, bug," Swiss leaned down to whisper in their good ear. "Straight to bed with us. I'm going to make you the best nest you've ever slept in, I swear to Belial."

Aeon laughed, fishing in their jeans pocket for the key Aether gave them on their very first day Up Top six and a half months ago. "That's not a high bar," they cackled, checking him with their shoulder.

"Still," he grinned. "You wanna grab your bedding from your room or do you just want to use mine?"

They pulled out their key, readjusting the strap of their duffle bag on their shoulder with a shrug. "I'll grab mine too." Swiss lit up, grin sun-bright

The two stopped in front of the plain door that leads to the room Aether had showed them to that first night. Aeon took a moment to fumble with the lock, refusing to let go of Swiss's hand. The door swung open, hinges creaky with months of disuse. The room was just as plain as it was before they left, and Aeon itched to rearrange the furniture, make it a little more theirs now that they were confident that this wasn't a temporary thing.

Reluctantly, Aeon let go of Swiss's hand, but instead of going to their bed, they felt Swiss's gaze on their back as they ducked under their desk, scooping up all of their sheets and blankets and pillows. "Baby," the multighoul said, and Aeon straightened, barely able to see over the pile of bedding in their arms. His tone was devastating, soft and almost sad.

"Yeah?"

"Were you sleeping under your desk?"

Aeon shifted the pile of fabric and took a step back as they took in Swiss's expression. His eyes went soft, but a deep frown lined his face. They cocked their head. "Yeah?"

"Oh, baby," he said again with that same sad tone. "Sweetheart."

"What?" Aeon said, kicking their door shut as they came back to him.

Swiss shook his head, taking a deep breath. "You need help locking up? Or help carrying that?"

"I got it, thanks," they said, shuffling their bedding into one arm as they fit the key in the lock again. They couldn't take Swiss's hand again, but they stood as close as they could to make up for it as they headed down the hall to his room.

Swiss had a much easier time getting his door unlocked, holding it open for Aeon as he ushered them inside. "Just dump those on my bed, alright, baby?"

Aeon nodded, setting the sheets down on his neatly made bed. Without the pile of fabric blocking their view, Aeon took a look at Swiss's room as the multghoul flicked on a string of soft lights, dropping his duffle bag on his desk chair.

It's much more lived in that Aeon's, which made sense, Aeon supposed. He'd been Up Top for far longer than they had. There were shelves of books and records that lined his walls, a guitar not unlike the one he played on tour mounted above his desk. There was a hanging plant near the window, curtains open and letting in the light, illuminating the dust particles floating in the air.

Swiss sighed as he kicked off his boots. "Finally. Home at fucking last."

Aeon carefully followed suit, taking off their own boots and tucking their duffle bag in the corner.

The multighoul opened his dresser, rummaging through it until he hummed victoriously, pulling out two pairs of sweatpants and a pair of shirts. "I'm gonna change and get you a nest made," he said. "If you want to shower, feel free."

Aeon nodded, eyes suddenly incredibly heavy. They wandered over to the wingback chair by the window, curling up against the cushion as Swiss handed them one of the shirts and pairs of pants. They thought about showering, blinking slowly as they felt the soft, worn fabric in their hands. Aeon shook their head, standing and changing into the offered clothes. They smelled like him.

Swiss's lips quirked up in a smile as he quickly changed, turning to arrange his and Aeon's bedding into, as promised, the best nest. He straightened, a satisfied smile on his face. "You wanna shut the curtains for me, baby?" he asked.

They nodded, pulling the black out curtains shut, casting the room in darkness with the exception of the string lights above Swiss's double bed. He settled into the nest, patting the space next to him. "As promised, buggy," he said, teeth glinting as he grinned in the low light.

Aeon returned his grin, crawling into Swiss's nest, plastering themself to his side between him and the wall. The nest was softer than anything Aeon had ever felt before, sinking into a carefully arranged pile of sheets and blankets and pillows. Swiss curled his hands around their biceps, pulling them flush against him.

They let out a little "oof" when their chests collided, both of them staring in silence for a moment before they burst into laughter.

"So," Swiss crooned, nosing at their cheek as they laughed. "Is this the best nest you've ever had or what?"

Aeon's nose crinkled up, cheeks dimpling with their laughter. "Oh yeah," they laughed. "'S really soft." They noticed their words beginning to slur, eyes growing heavy.

"And there's the crash," Swiss said, yawning. He carded his fingers through their hair, Aeon keening at the touch. "Sleep as long as you need."

It's warm, and soft, and now that they'd finally stopped moving, Aeon realized that Swiss was right, drifting off to sleep.

They don't leave the nest for hours. Or it could be days. With the curtains drawn, Aeon's not sure. Sometimes they wake, still held fast against Swiss's form. Their hands settle on the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his locs subconsciously. Sometimes Swiss wakes, and even in their sleep, Aeon can feel his blunt, glamoured fingertips carding through their hair, tracing patterns against their spine.

And sometimes they wake together, only getting up to use the bathroom, to raid the ghoul kitchen for snacks and water, dried fruit and nuts and the single serving bags of Dew's favorite spicy chips, before retreating back to the nest. They'll pay for that particular transgression later, but Aether and Dew's door hasn't opened once since the band returned to the Abbey, so they're not particularly worried.

For now, Aeon lets Swiss keep his word, keeping them in his bed, safe in his nest, and Aeon drinks it up. The smell of him is much stronger here, and Aeon spends long moments with their face buried in his chest, his shirt, his bedding.

"Can you even breathe like that, bug?" Swiss laughs, hand caressing the back of their neck. Aeon doesn't raise their head to answer, mumbling into his chest. Swiss hums, ducking down to press a kiss between their horns, and Aeon chuffs happily, if not half-asleep.

"There we go, sweetheart," he whispers, shifting until he's on his back, Aeon curled up on his broad chest. They chuff again, already slipping back into sleep, their body making up for all of the sleepless nights they spent on the road.

The creak of the door handle startles them awake next. Aeon pushes themself upright, lips peeled back in a terrified snarl as the door pushes open slowly. The sudden movement and noise wakes Swiss, as light from the hallway pools into his room, lighting the dim space.

It barely takes half of a second for Swiss to register the open door, the budding tinge of terror on Aeon's scent, before he's shoving them off of him, sitting up between them and the door. He reaches behind him, fingers curling in the fabric of Aeon's borrowed shirt. A deep growl bubbles up in his chest, and Aeon's never heard him make a sound quite like that.

But Aeon sees the glowing pairs of purple and copper eyes silhouetted by the hall light, and Dew clears his throat as he and Aether look in. "Quit fucking growling, asshole, s'just us," he says, scoffing, even though Aeon can hear the worry seeping through his tone.

Swiss has the wherewithal to at least look sheepish, padding his tail against the mattress. "Sorry," he says, but the tone of his voice says he isn't.

"We just wanted to say hello," Aether says, smiling easily like one of his packmates hadn't just been growling at them. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of either of you in the last three days. Got a glimpse when you came off of the bus, but to be fair, we ran off pretty quick." He chuckles, looking at Dew with a softness in his eyes, an arm around his waist.

Aeon whistles under their breath. They'd been in Swiss's nest for three days.

"We've been out," Swiss says, and Aeon feels how tense he is still, his back against their chest. It's just their packmates, one of whom they've only had a few glimpses of in the last several months. They don't know why he's so worked up. "We went to the kitchen."

"Yeah, to steal my chips," Dew scoffs, but he's laughing as he toes at an abandoned foil package that didn't quite make it to the trash can, but neither of them had been assed to get up and actually throw away.

"Invite yourselves in, why don't you?" Swiss laughs, but he's still tense. Aeon sits up straighter behind him, hooking their chin over his shoulder.

"Hi, Aeth," Aeon says, voice heavy with sleep and, apparently, three whole days' worth of disuse. "Missed you."

Aether grins, opening the curtains, much to Swiss and Aeon's dismay. They both hiss, squinting in the bright afternoon light. "Missed you too, pup. You too, Swiss."

Dew stares as the room brightens, and Aeon watches his mouth fall open, eyes brightening with a disbelief and a delight. "Swiss," the fire ghoul says slowly. "Satanas, you didn't-" He gestures loosely at the nest, where Aeon's light grey sheets mix with the dark burgundy of Swiss's own bedding.

Swiss tenses further, tail wrapping around his own thigh, spade thudding nervously against the meat of it. "Spitfire."

"Aeth, look at his bed," Dew says, and Swiss covers his face with his hands, groaning. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

Aether turns from opening the window, bringing in a waft of fresh autumn air, and Aeon watches his clever eyes dart back and forth between the nest, Swiss, Dew, over to Aeon, and back again. A grin slowly grows on the older quint's face, baring his gold fang.

"Belial, Swiss," Dew throws his head back, crowing with laughter. "You made them a hearth, didn't know it was that serious!"

"Shut up," Swiss says, muffled into his hands.

Dew ignores him, still laughing. "Waited all of a week to get them into your bed, huh?" He crows. Aether's still grinning at Aeon. "We walked in on a fucking hearth. No wonder you were growling like you were feral, you spent the last three days fucking in a hearth-"

Swiss's head snaps up, growling again. He almost clips the back of his skull against Aeon's horn. "Shut the fuck up, Dewdrop," he snaps, voice rumbling dangerously around the edges of the ghoulish words.

All three of the other ghouls freeze, Aeon squeaking softly under their breath. Swiss hears it, their mouth practically against his ear, and sighs, shoulders slumping as he presses his cheek against their temple. "I'm sorry. Nothing like that happened. We've just been sleeping. Please just drop it."

Dew holds his hands up, palms facing the nest. "Didn't mean to insinuate," he says, still leaning against the doorframe, grinning. "Didn't know you were the hearth type, Swiss."

Swiss grunts, staring at Dew with grit teeth.

"Well, darling," Aether butts in, a similar smug look on his face. "You didn't seem the type either."

"Oh, shut up," Dew rolls his eyes. "It worked on you."

Aeon's eyes dart from ghoul to ghoul, brow furrowed. "Um," they breathe, not exactly liking the way all three of the older ghouls turn to face them. "I don't wanna interrupt, but what do you mean? What's a hearth?"

"Oh, no," Aether breathes. Swiss buries his face in his hands.

"Oh, Lord Below, of course you didn't tell them," Dew laughs. "I'm gonna let Swiss explain this one to you, voidling, seeing as you're in one." The fire ghoul jabs a thumb towards his mate. "This guy didn't know what a hearth was the first time I made him one either."

"Of course I didn't know," Aether argues. "I wasn't raised with fire pack customs."

"Exactly," Dew stresses, leveling a look at Aether. "Neither were they."

Swiss hasn't moved, breathing so shallow that Aeon can't feel it from where they're pressed up against his back. They chirrup, trying to be comforting, but still questioning. Swiss groans, tilts his head back until their cheeks are pressed together. "I'll tell you, bug, but will the two of you leave us alone?"

Dew nods, suddenly incredibly solemn, hand over his chest. "Of course. Aeth?"

Aether nods, stepping closer to the bed to run a hand over Swiss's locs, finger trailing along the ridge of his horn. "I'm glad you're home, spark."

Swiss hums, leaning into Aether's touch for just a moment, flashing him with the brightness of his smile for a second. "Glad to be home too, big guy."

He grins, turning to his fellow quintessence ghoul, running blunt fingers through their hair. "Congratulations on finishing your first tour, pup."

Aeon smiles, not as bright as they would have, the uneasy tension sour on the air, but they press into the touch like a pleased cat. "Thanks, Aeth."

The pair of them step out, Dew flashing Swiss a mischievous grin before shutting the door behind them.

Swiss sighs again, running a hand through his locs, eyes squeezed shut. He shifts until he's sitting straight and cross legged, and Aeon props themself up to sit next to him, their thighs pressed together. "Did Caldera, did she ever make nests? Specifically, did she ever make one for Oasis?"

Aeon cocks their head, curiosity washing over and dampening the sting of their names on his lips. "No," they tell him. "We were moving constantly, didn't have somewhere secure for a nest like that. He'd give her stones all the time, though. He said it was a water ghoul thing."

Swiss's ears pin back to his skull and he tenses again, fingers flexing, hands in his lap. "Shit."

Aeon darts out, grabs one of his hands, seeking contact. He melts, eagerly taking theirs. His thumb traces over the back of their hand, and his eyes track the movement. "Can you tell me what Dew meant?" Aeon breathes. "About it being a fire thing?"

He nods and squeezes their hand.

"We- No," Swiss winces. He starts again. "Fire ghouls come from the coldest circles of the Pits. They're the only ghouls that can survive there, because the fire in them keeps them alive." He rests his other hand over his heart. "But sometimes, in the longest, darkest nights, one fire wouldn't be enough. You could go to sleep fine, and your flame would freeze and go out by morning. So, most fire ghouls tended to sleep together with partners or big family piles."

Aeon listens intently, resting their head on his shoulder. "You said that was something you missed from your birth pack, right?"

Swiss snorts, turning to nose at the crown of their head. He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes shut as their scent hits him. "I did say that. My family was from the City, so we weren't exactly worrying about freezing to death, it was more a comfort thing. But this isn't quite like that."

They wait for Swiss to continue. "What's it like, then?" they ask, yawning.

"A hearth is-" He nuzzles into their hair again, hot breath blowing the strands as he hums. "If you were single, and looking for a partner, you'd offer to build your potential partner a hearth, a nest of your own bedding, to prove you could provide and protect each other's flames. And if they offered their own bedding in return, you had been accepted, and they were interested too. I know I didn't ask, and I asked you for your bedding instead of you offering, but that's what Dew saw. He made a hearth for Aether before he asked him to be his mate."

Aeon cocks their head, sleepily blinking up at him. "It's a mates thing?"

"Yeah," Swiss shuts his eyes and heaves a breath. "It's like a courting nest. I'm sorry, bug. Haven't thought of myself as fire for so long, I didn't realize what I was doing, didn't ask if it was okay. Didn't put a name to what I was doing."

They straighten, shift to look at him dead on. Their hands come up to his face, smoothing over the three day's worth of unshaved stubble. It scratches their palms just right, and Aeon watches the little furrow in his brow smooth out.

"You don't have to apologize," they say, entranced by the shift in the gold of his eyes. "Did you mean it?"

He hums curiously, the little furrow back on his brow. "Did I mean it?"

"Nobody's ever been interested in me like that," they admit in a little voice. Swiss's hands curl around their own, just touching. "Are you? Do you mean it?"

Swiss thinks, and Aeon feels a pit growing in their stomach the longer he doesn't answer.

"Aeon," he says, smoothing his thumbs over the back of their hands. They look up, catching his eye. "Of course I mean it. I love you, bug."

"Then I accept," Aeon says, as easy as breathing. "I want that. I love you too."

He grins, bright and golden, just as warm as the nest they've spent the last half a week in, and Aeon grabs his hands tighter, nose crinkling up in laughter.

"I'm glad we got you, Aeon," Swiss says, smile softening. He kisses their cheek, warm and flushed deep violet.

"I'm glad it was me too," they whisper, leaning forward to shove their face in Swiss's throat.

He embraces them, rubbing up and down their spine, and Swiss's heart jumps when he realizes he can't feel the knobs of their spine. "I hate to say it, lovebug, but we should probably go have something real to eat, see the others."

Aeon whines, but their stomach chooses that moment to growl, and both ghouls burst into laughter at the timing. They stand, begrudgingly leaving the warmth of their hearth to rejoin the rest of their pack.

#happy birthday liss!! <3 #will i ever write anything that isn't sickly sweet #the world may never know #dot's writing #eternal heatstroke #swiss ghoul #aeon ghoul #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #swiss/aeon #phantom ghoul #swiss/phantom #< for tagging purposes

111 notes · View notes

scotianostra · 1 year

Text

January *28th 1290 saw the death of Dervorguilla, Lady of Galloway.

*Dates for this, 21st and 20th of January, and one with a different year but most say this date, also spellings of her name differ.

The Lanercost states that Dervorguilla was the “widow of Lord John de Balliol” and that she “was a woman largely endowed with money and lands, both in England and in Scotland.” It also adds in her favour that “she had a much richer endowment in the nobility of her heart, being daughter and heiress of the magnificent Alan, the sometime Lord of Galloway.” Regarding her death, it states that “She passed from the world, full of years, at Castle Barnard, and was buried at Duquer, in Galloway, a Monastery of Cistercians, which she herself built and endowed.” Looks like ‘endowed’ was a well used term in those days; at least in the Lanercost.

Arguably the most famous fact about her, in Scotland at least, is that she was the mother of our erstwhile King John, it was through her that his legitimate claim to the Scottish crown came about, she was a great-great-granddaughter of King David I. Had she lived a wee whiles her lineage would have thrown up the possibility of her being named Queen of Scotland after the death of Margaret Maid of Norway in September 1290, this would have precluded that nasty Edward I interfering with our affairs, Queen Dervorguilla, how does that sound? This alternative timeline may have been the start of a Balliol dynasty, no Bruce’s or Stewarts such is the ifs and buts of history.

While a lot of marriages were arranged to form alliances and were loveless, that is not the case with that is certainly not the case with Lady Dervorguilla and John Balliol snr, on the death of her husband, in 1268, Dervorguilla had his heart embalmed and kept in a casket of ivory bound with silver. The casket travelled with her for the rest of her life.

Poetry has been written of the love shared between John Balliol and Dervorguilla of Galloway, the Lady also founded New Abbey in Dumfries & Galloway in honour of her husband, after her own death the Monks in the Abbey started calling it Dulce Cor, Latin for Sweet Heart, and so it became known as Sweetheart Abbey.

She was also the co-founder, with her husband of Balliol College, Oxford in 1263, even after John Balliol’s death Lady Dervorguilla continued to support it, securing its permanent endowment in 1282, as well as formal statutes, a seal, and a house to study in. It’s a shame that College did not allow women students until 1979!.

If you have ever visited Dumfries you will have no maybe crossed over the river Nth on Dervorguilla Bridge, built in 1426 and named in her honour.

She was buried in front of the high altar at Sweetheart Abbey. A stone slab in the floor marks the supposed site of her burial, the actually place being lost due to the mindless destruction during the Reformation, their lost graves lie amongst the ruins, which is described as a “shrine to human and divine love”.

An effigy found by archaeologists can be seen at the Abbey, sadly the head is missing, but it is thought to be the Lady and in 2017 it was named number 10 by VisitScotland in their 25 Objects That Shaped Scotland’s History.

#scotland #scottish #medieval history #the balliols #history #sweetheart abbey

12 notes · View notes

folkloresthings · 9 months

Note

NORTHANGER ABBEY — send a muse + your favourite trope and i’ll write a drabble/blurb.

Oscar Piastri 🥵🧡

With highschool sweetheart trope

Please and thank you ☺️☺️🫶🏻

FOR FOREVER. ❨ oscar piastri x reader ❩

on your first day of high school, you had been seated next to a floppy haired, awkward looking boy called oscar. for a few weeks, neither of you spoke to each other. then, he asked about a homework assignment and you helped him out. it wasn’t until junior year that he finally asked you out, despite pining over you for two years. since then, you’d been inseparable.

your camera roll history was filled with the timeline of your relationship. study dates, prom night, graduation, his formula two podiums, his first day in formula one, every time he flew out to visit you.

you’d fallen in love when you were both seventeen years old, and you’d been together ever since. twenty—one now and still head over heels. you’d been with oscar from the start of his career, but being so far apart from each other made it difficult. you persevered, as much a you could, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were missing out on a little piece of his life.

oscar’s birthday had fallen right in the middle of the racing season, and just in time for the australian grand prix. he was home to celebrate with you and everyone that he loved. able to sleep in your arms every night for a whole week, back where everything began.

like always, his mother was throwing a backyard birthday party for all of the family and friends — even all of the drivers. you had put on oscar’s favourite dress of yours and baked him the cake that he loved. he hadn’t been able to leave you alone all afternoon, his hand glued to your waist, showing you off to everyone he could.

“guys, can i get your attention for a second?”

oscar’s voice pulls you away from lando’s fourth story about your boyfriend, everyone looking to where he stands at the top of the garden. charles passes you the drink he’d left to get you a while ago, sitting on the deckchair next to you.

“i just wanted to thank you all really quickly for coming,” oscar smiles, his mum standing next to him. you can tell she’s made him make this speech, the sheepishness in his eyes making you stifle a giggle. “and to my mum, for putting all of this together. i’m so glad i get to bring all the parts of my life together.”

he goes on a little longer, something about work and being home, and you can’t take your eyes off of him. he looks adorable, back in the australian sun with a birthday badge pinned to his shirt (his little cousin’s doing). oscar’s eyes find yours in the small crowd and he softens, heart swelling.

“and i have to give special thanks to my darling y/n,” oscar raises his glass towards you. any awkwardness is gone from his speech—giving, completely relaxed when it’s you he’s looking at. all eyes turn to you then, but you barely notice. oscar is all you see, every moment of every day.

“she’s put up with me for almost five years, and i couldn’t be more grateful. and she’s going to hate me for pointing her out like this — but, baby, i love you. you’ve been my rock, my heart, my biggest support through everything. even my weird, spotty, puberty stage. thank you, truly. i can’t wait to spend another year with you by my side.”

everybody’s clapping and you can feel your eyes stinging with tears, but you don’t care. your feet carry you across the garden, pressing your lips softly to his. it gains a few jests from the drivers, but you’re too busy smiling up at your lover.

“happy birthday, sweetheart.”

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k!#🌙 ﹐ drabbles.#formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri drabble #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff

197 notes · View notes

gravehags · 8 months

Text

separated by a degree

Pairing: Cirrus x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: domme Cirrus, mild BDSM, face sitting, pussy eating, fingering

Words: 2,742

Summary: You've had a rough week. Cirrus is here to make it all better.

a/n: RING A DING DING PART 6 Y'ALL like it goes without saying but Cirrus could step on my neck and I'd say thank you so this is an ode to that

@terzosbignaturals EAT UP

~~~

This week had just been too much. Too fucking much.

Ever since you bid Mountain and Aether a lingering, intimate adieu after your evening together, everything has gone to shit. The plumbing in your shower - no one else’s, you sourly think - has gone out, forcing you to have to travel all the way across the abbey to Cumulus’ room every night just to bathe. It’s not that you don’t want to see her - quite the opposite - but something about inelegantly stomping the halls in your damp flip-flops and wet hair back to your room makes you agitated. On top of that, you’ve been assigned to your usual library duties as well as being an altar sibling every mass. You’re exhausted, both mentally and physically, and you haven’t been this anxious since you were a novitiate in Papa Secondo’s summoning classes. You’ve barely seen the ghouls, let alone spent time with them, and the loneliness is beginning to take its toll. You’re currently flopped on your duvet half naked after a long mass led by Papa Nihil, groaning into the empty space when there’s a knock at your door.

“What?” you shout, throwing an arm over your eyes.

“It’s me,” comes a feminine voice from the other side whom you identify as Cirrus. Shooting up from your bed you pad over to the door and open it while still hiding your body behind it.

“Gonna let me in?” she purrs, giving what’s visible of your form a once over.

“Uh…I’m…indisposed.” you say stupidly, to which she snorts.

“Half the pack has seen everything you have to offer and now you’re shy? Cute.” She’s smirking and leaning against the entryway as you grip the door tighter.

“What’s up?” you ask in a high pitched voice, changing the subject. If this is a come on you’re flattered, and part of you aches for it but the ache in your brain and body is much more powerful.

“Wanted to offer my services,” she says, tracing a claw down the wood of the door.

“Oh?” you say, somewhat intrigued. “And what does that entail?”

“Stress relief,” Cirrus says airily, “you’ve been going through so much recently, sweetheart. And I,” she steps forward slightly, entering your space, “can help.”

You don’t even realize that you’ve opened the door wider until she’s curling a lock of your hair around her long finger and staring at you intently. Her tail slips around you and rubs gently against the curve of your ass. Your lips are parted and you’re about to say something when all of a sudden she’s stepping back.

“Not tonight, though, I understand,” she says, examining her nails with a sigh.

“I need to shower,” you blurt out. A vaguely sinister grin unfurls on her lips.

“Use mine,” she says, leaning her head against the doorframe, tail flicking behind her lazily.

Your mouth is dry. “Okay. Yeah just let me…let me get my stuff.”

“Just a robe should be fine,” Cirrus comments, her eyes drifting towards the ceiling. “You won’t need much else.”

You clench your thighs together at the surge of wetness that creeps out of you and your clit throbs at the brief contact. If Cirrus sees you do it, she doesn’t comment on it. Abandoning your post at the door you go back to the bathroom and remove your bra and panties, already soaked through. Sliding the fluffy, dark red bathrobe over your shoulders and securing it at the waist, you return to Cirrus.

“Ready,” you say, sounding altogether too goddamn eager and Cirrus knows it judging from the way the points of her teeth peek out from between her lips.

“C’mon baby,” she purrs, escorting you down the hall with her hand on the small of your back. “I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

The walk down to the ghoul den is quiet, but you do pass Aether in the hallway and give him a little wave. When he sees who accompanies you he lets out a rather ominous chuckle and winks at the other ghoul. Cirrus looks entirely too pleased as she opens her bedroom door and ushers you inside, closing the door behind the both of you with a loud snap.

Her room is a beautiful collection of dark blues and blacks, making you feel like you’re hanging amidst the stars in the night sky. It’s calming and she seems to enjoy how your shoulders slump in relaxation.

“Go shower,” she nudges you towards the bathroom door, “then I’ll take care of you.”

You’re about to shut the door behind you when she calls out, “oh and…no need to put the robe back on.”

There it is, that sensation in your belly you feel in every encounter you have with the ghouls. That wonderful feeling of anticipation that lingers in your veins, the promise of something positively delicious, has you grinning as you turn the water on.

Cirrus’ products are nice…very nice…and you enjoy the heady fragrance that perfumes your hair after you step out of the shower. Drying off, you regard yourself in the semi-fogged over mirror. You have no idea what to expect from this encounter and it turns you on immensely. With a sigh, you drop the towel and head out to see Cirrus. Opening the door you hesitate slightly, until you peek your head around it and see what’s waiting for you. While you were in the shower, Cirrus transformed. She is no longer wearing the standard ghoul outfit you’ve come to expect, but rather a beautiful black lace lingerie set that makes your jaw drop. Your gaze drags over the rounded curve of her hips and her dark nipples - hard beneath the expensive material. Suddenly, you become hyper aware of how you’re standing stark naked in Cirrus’ bathroom doorway and move to cover yourself. She watches you hunch over yourself and grabs something from the nightstand. You recognize what’s in her hands as a leather flogger, the handle intricately and tightly woven. She runs the tendrils through her fingers as she approaches you. Flushing from tip to toe you move to touch her - anything to distract from your vulnerable state - but she stops you with the end of the whip against your sternum.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she smiles, canting her hip, “you have to earn that, pet.”

You pout at her and she gives you a look, tucking the end of the flogger under your chin to raise it.

“Get on the bed,” she snarls suddenly, “hands and knees.”

You feel her eyes follow you as you make your way to the bed and climb atop the dark duvet. On your hands and knees, as she requested, you feel a sense of humiliation wash over you and also…something else. You’re enjoying yourself. With a grin, you arch your back to expose your ass and cunt to Cirrus’ gaze. She approaches behind you and runs the flogger along your back and down your legs, making you shiver. When you attempt to crane your neck to look at her she strikes, hard and fast against your ass. You cry out and jolt forward, making her giggle.

“Look at you, presenting yourself like a bitch in heat,” she purrs, once again dragging the flogger gently against your bare skin. The sting of the first strike hasn’t faded when she hits you again. The bite of the leather tendrils against your haunches makes you cunt ache and you feel yourself drip onto the covers. She hums as she observes the mess you’re making.

“Do you like being exposed like this?” She strikes a third time, your mind spinning. When you don’t answer she strikes again.

“Yes!” you howl, cunt clenching around nothing.

“Yes, what?” she asks sweetly.

“Yes…mistress?” you guess and she strikes you again, making you sob.

“Say it like you mean it.”

When she runs the flat of her palm over the abused skin of your ass you want to cry. It’s the first time she’s touched your bare flesh and you ache for her.

“Yes, mistress!” you pant as she squeezes the globe of your ass hard enough for her claws to dig in.

“How much more can you take?” Cirrus wonders aloud, coming over to your face to tilt your chin up once again. Your damp hair hangs around your face and tears streak down your cheeks. Cirrus gives you a pointed look, indicating that although she is in control, she is ultimately asking you for permission. You nod your head in her grip.

“More, please,” you say hoarsely. She breaks character for a moment and allows her face to split in a beautiful smile.

“Good girl,” she coos, running a single claw down your cheek. “Such a good girl for me.”

You exhale shakily, feeling more wetness slide down your thighs.

When she returns to her position at your ass and cracks the flogger across your skin once more, you practically choke on the broken moan that slips out of you. Your arms are shaking, trying their damndest to hold you up. She slides the leather tendrils between your thighs to graze against your clit and your arms give out. You sob into the duvet as you prop yourself up on your elbows - the best you can do in your state. Cirrus doesn’t seem to mind as she is instead content to drag the flogger through your sopping folds, enjoying the way your mess glistens on the leather.

“Can you handle two more?” she asks idly, caressing your ass again.

“Yes, mistress,” you pant, whining when she removes her hand from you. The flogger comes down on your skin twice in rapid succession and your moan is more of a shout. Cirrus steps away from the bed and sets the flogger down.

“So good for me,” she croons, running a finger down your spine. “Can you be good for me a little longer?”

Your forehead hits the duvet as you whimper into the fabric. The ache in your backside stings like nothing you’ve ever felt before, but the ache in your cunt takes precedence. You push yourself back to sit on your knees and let out a ragged breath.

“Yes, mistress,” you say with surprising steadiness. Cirrus beams at you and climbs on the bed next to you.

“Lie down, pet,” she murmurs, nudging you up. You crawl towards the pillows and practically collapse on them, simply relieved to no longer be on your knees. She watches your every move as you adjust and then slowly, she slides up your body. You’re desperate to touch her, and tell her so. She laughs, her breath hot against your skin as she traces patterns into your side.

“Hmm, I suppose you’ve earned it,” she murmurs and your hands fly to her waist. You want to see more, feel more of her so you cautiously slip the lace underwear she’s wearing off her hips. She allows it, still propped up above you, and kicks the garment off when it slides down her legs.

“You have one more task, pet, and you’ll get your reward,” she coos in your ear, before pushing herself up. Grabbing the headboard she pulls her body up yours and in a smooth motion straddles your head. Cirrus hovers there for a moment and you sigh when you glimpse how fucking wet she is. The knowledge that she is just as affected as you are makes your heart sing and you’re desperate to taste her. Slowly, too slowly for your liking but you remain silent, she lowers her cunt to your mouth. You slide your hands up her thighs to grip at her hips before leaning up to give her an experimental lick. When your tongue runs through her folds, tasting her for the first time, the both of you moan in tandem. You are dying to hear her make that noise again so you swipe your tongue upwards once more, this time teasing at her clitoral hood. Her hips buck and you hear the headboard creak under her grip. When you latch your mouth onto her cunt, she gasps so hard she almost chokes. Exposing her clit you wrap your lips around her and suckle at the bud.

“Fuck, baby,” she whines from above you, and your grip on her hips tightens. “That’s it, don’t stop.”

So you don’t.

Your face is a dripping mess as you continue to suck at her clit, pausing every once in a while to drag your tongue through her. You can tell she’s trying her hardest to remain in this position, her thighs shaking with the effort. When you bring her hips down lower onto your mouth, you groan into her folds and she whimpers. Gently, you probe your tongue inside of her and she lets out a loud moan that makes your clit throb. As you fuck her with your mouth her hips begin shifting. She’s riding your face as delicately as she can but when you latch yourself onto her clit again her bucks become fiercer. She’s chanting your name as you moan against her cunt, sliding one hand in your hair to pull at it. Her body is tensing - you know her end is coming - so your assault becomes vicious, wanting desperately to see her come undone.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she pants, “I’m gonna cum, baby. Ah–ah–I’m gonna–”

Cirrus climaxes with a high pitched drawn out moan, and you continue licking and sucking at her. Her body twists and contorts above your head as you hold her firmly against your mouth. After several moments, she murmurs your name and you reluctantly release her from your grasp. When she moves off of you and settles in between your legs, she gazes at you adoringly. You’re a mess - covered in her slick from the nose down - and you lick your lips as you look at her.

“You,” she breathes, and you let your lips slip into a smile. You’re practically glowing with pride and she beams back at you while stroking the insides of your thighs.

“You’ve more than earned your reward, my pet,” she says, nuzzling your mound. When she finally spreads your legs, a litany of “thank yous” fall from your lips. Just as she did, you cry out when her mouth slides over your clit and she wastes no time in drawing your pleasure from you. She hums against your cunt as she slides one finger, then two in between your folds and begins fucking you intently. Cirrus isn’t here to tease you any more - she’s on a mission - and she’s ruthless. You’ve got your fingers buried in her hair, thumbs caressing the base of her horns, as she pistons her fingers inside you at a staggering rate.

“Cirrus,” you keen, all formalities forgotten, “Cirrus, honey, don’t stop.”

When you reach your climax you feel it from head to toe, building at the base of your spine and spreading to all your extremities. You cry out her name again and again and she continues fucking you through your orgasm. Your body is limp and twitching and she’s still going until you finally beg for her to stop. Now her face is covered in your juices as she leans back and removes her bra, finally exposing all of herself to you. Arousal twitches slightly in your gut as you view her bare breasts, but ultimately nothing comes of it as she snuggles against you.

“Goddamn,” you breathe and she smiles against your shoulder.

“You good?” she asks, reaching up to pet your still-damp hair.

“You could say that,” you grin, turning on your side to face her. She looks beautiful, her cheeks just as flushed at yours. And just as sticky. When you move to get up to grab a wet rag she frowns and drags you back down, wrapping her arm around your body and bringing you close.

“You smell like me,” she says, inhaling deep at your scalp.

“Yeah, I’m covered in your pussy juice,” you say wryly, which makes her laugh out loud. The sound makes your heart ache and you rest a palm on her cheek.

“Thank you for this,” you murmur quietly. She leans in to give you the only kiss of the night you’ve had, and it’s so terribly soft. She’s purring as she pulls away from you.

“You make a good pet,” she says with a little half-grin. “Think I might keep you,”

That wouldn’t be so bad.

#cirrus x reader #cirrus x female reader #cirrus x f!reader #cirrus ghoulette #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

165 notes · View notes

appocalipse · 2 months

Note

how about cracked compass + antique lock and key set with eddie munson? hear me out, but i'm thinking a historical AU and they're both servants at the same house/manor/castle (thinking kinda downton abbey energy with the servants drama). maybe she's carrying a tray or something and spills it everywhere (idk maybe it's food, maybe its something tiny like a jar of beads) and eddie swoops in and takes the fall so that she doesn't get sacked (because he's been working there a lot longer) makes up some story about how it was his fault and stuff. yup, that'd be the moment you fell stupidly hard for him... imagine all of the pinning? the staring at him when he's not looking? AH!

lea, you have such a beautiful mind 🥺♥ i tried my best but unfortunately, i've never watched downton abbey, so it's probably not exactly what you wanted :( hope you'll still enjoy it anyway, thanks for the lovely request 💗 | 4.3k words

visit amy's flea market ♥

The vase goes clattering to the floor and you watch with a desperate and frenzied heart as it hits the stone and...shatters instantly.

In a mix of dismay and panic, you reach to the floor where the delicate craftwork is broken into countless jagged and shattered pieces along the smooth white tile. Upon attempting to save the poor vase, you accidently slash your palm open on one of the sharp corners, and though the wound gushes blood, you don't seem to care. You think maybe if you gather all of the pieces and put them back together in their proper place, it may still be fixed, may still be saved, if you—

"Have you- Christ! Sweetheart, what...what happened?"

Startled, you look up to find Eddie running down the long and winding stairway, his chest rising and falling as if he'd just run a mile. He quickly makes his way over to you, crouching down on the floor, his dark eyes scanning your body for any signs of injury.

"Are you hurt? Oh God, there's blood," he breathes, and before you can reply, he's reaching out to take your wounded hand in his and inspect it closer.

The feel of his fingers against your skin sends a tingling sensation up your spine, but you shake the feeling away and focus on explaining yourself. "I...I was just passing by and...I tried to grab it, but it fell, and—I didn't mean for it to—"

"Hey, hey, shh, it's alright," Eddie murmurs, and without hesitation, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a clean handkerchief. He wraps it around your bleeding hand and ties it tight, his movements gentle and careful. "I'll talk to Mr. Harrington about it, okay? It's not your fault."

"I—no. It was all me. Don't...you shouldn't get involved, you'll end up getting in trouble too."

Eddie smiles softly, his dark eyes sparkling as he looks up at you. "You're sweet, but...it's okay. I've been a servant here for a longer time. I know how to deal with this. You don't need to worry, okay?"

Unable to form words, you stare at Eddie and wonder why he's being so kind to you. It's true that the two of you have grown close over the past few years—close enough that you'd even consider him your friend—but still...this isn't his fault, and he shouldn't feel the need to take the blame for you.

"Eddie, I—"

He blushes and drops his gaze, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. "Go clean up, okay? I'll handle it."

And with that, Eddie carefully picks up the broken shards of the vase and disappears down the hall.

For the next days, you can't seem to stop thinking about what happened. The guilt eats away at your insides, twisting and turning until you feel physically sick. Eddie had taken the punishment for you, from what you've heard — a severe deduction from his pay and the threat of getting fired, along with extra cleaning duties.

You had tried to protest, to tell Mr. Harrington that it was truly an accident and that you could handle the consequences yourself, but Eddie wouldn't let you. He'd taken on everything, saying that the vase had slipped off the pedestal as he was cleaning it, and that he'd been the clumsy and careless one, leaving you in the clear.

You hated it.

It was the reason you couldn't seem to sleep, couldn't seem to eat or even breathe. Every waking moment was haunted by the memory of his soft and understanding voice, the warmth of his fingers against your own, the smell of his hair lingering in the air long after he'd gone, like a ghost haunting your thoughts and—

"God, sweetheart, you look terrible," Eddie says one day as you make your way through the castle corridors. "When was the last time you had a good night of sleep, huh?"

You blush, self-consciously touching your hair and wishing you looked even a fraction better than you did. "I-I'll pay you back, you know. I promise."

Eddie frowns, tilting his head in confusion. "Pay me back?"

"For...for taking the punishment for me. I'll do double my duties, and with the extra payment—"

"Woah, wait...you want to do extra work so you can...give it to me? What? That doesn't even make any sense. I didn't take the punishment so you'd repay me for it, you know."

"But it was my fault," you argue. "And it's only right that I—"

"How's your hand?"

"I don't...what?"

Blinking in confusion, you look down to where your hand is neatly wrapped in gauze. You had accidently re-opened the wound a few days back while running some errands for your lady, but it had mostly healed by now, though it would surely scar.

"Is it feeling better? That was a nasty cut," Eddie asks, moving closer so he can reach out and inspect your palm. He takes your hand carefully, as if you're made of glass, gingerly unwrapping the bandage and scanning the sensitive skin with his eyes. His touch sends an electric buzz under your skin, a longing unfurling in your belly that you force yourself to ignore.

"Oh, uhm, yes. I'm fine," you reply, trying to calm the sudden rush of heat that's flooded your cheeks. "But—Eddie, please. If you won't take the extra payment, then please, just let me do some of your chores or—"

"No. Why would I do that?"

"Why would you not?!"

Eddie laughs, shaking his head and giving you a crooked smile. "Sweetheart, I told you—I did what I did because I wanted to. Because I'm your friend and...I like seeing you happy. Seeing you upset over this whole thing is worse than a month's worth of cleaning duties, honestly."

You frown, biting the inside of your cheek and staring down at the polished tile beneath your feet. "Still, it doesn't feel right, you taking the blame and...punishment for me. I can't stand the thought of you getting in trouble because of something I did, especially when it's...it's not your fault, and you shouldn't have to—"

"I don't think of it as punishment."

"You don't?"

You look up, watching as Eddie's chocolate eyes seem to sparkle in the dim light of the candle-lit hallway. "I've been here longer than you. It would've been much worse if you'd taken the fall."

Eddie's fingers are gentle and warm against your own, his calloused hands brushing over your palm with a feather-light touch. You watch as he carefully wraps the gauze around the wound again, his brows furrowed in concentration as he secures the fabric tightly.

"I think you're being too kind to me," you murmur, feeling your heart race as he brushes a stray lock of hair away from your face. "I don't deserve it."

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head and stepping back with a sigh. "What if I have an ulterior motive?"

You frown, tilting your head in confusion. "Ulterior motive?"

"Mhm. What if I'm only doing it so you'll see how good I am and fall madly in love with me? Hmm?"

You blush, unable to form words as Eddie grins mischievously. "I—you—what?"

"Kidding, sweetheart, I'm kidding," Eddie says with a chuckle, reaching out to gently pat your head. "I'm just trying to make you smile, that's all."

"Well, you're very good at it."

"You think so?"

"Yes," you breathe, surprised by the sudden sincerity in your voice. "I'm glad we're friends, Eddie."

"Me too, sweetheart."

After that night, you couldn't seem to get those stupid words out of your head.

Eddie had been joking, of course. The two of you were close, but he didn't have feelings for you. Of course not. Not like that. How could he? How could someone as sweet and handsome and wonderful as him like you of all people, when there were so many other girls who were prettier, with more money and manners than you could ever hope to achieve?

You sigh and return your focus to where you're meant to be helping your lady get dressed, dutifully lacing the ties of her corset and giving them a good tug.

You know that he'd meant it in good fun. Know that he had most likely forgotten about it as soon as he'd said it—but for whatever reason, you can't seem to.

It's so annoying.

You love Eddie. He is your friend, of course. And while you both had never broached any territory close to a romantic relationship, you aren't stupid or blind. You aren't oblivious enough to the way his dark eyes seem to linger on you for a little too long. To how he holds the door open and gently touches the small of your back whenever the two of you are walking through the castle or descending the grand staircase.

God, you could go on and on and on about him.

"Miss, you seem rather distracted," your lady remarks, causing you to flush with embarrassment. "Did you tie my corset too tight, by chance?"

"Oh—I'm sorry, my lady," you reply, shaking yourself from your thoughts and adjusting the laces once more. "There—how is that?"

"Much better."

After helping her into her dress and pinning her hair into place, you follow her out of her chambers and down the corridor to the grand staircase, where a few other servants are already waiting for her. Tonight you and most of the other servants will finally have some time to yourselves — the family you serve is going to be attending a lavish dinner party with many other high-class members of society.

They're going to be gone for most of the night, and though usually you'd look forward to this sort of thing, you can't seem to muster the same excitement as usual.

You just aren't...feeling it tonight.

You sigh and make your way down the stairs, where the front doors have just opened and your lady and her husband are now heading out to their carriages. Once they're all gone, the rest of the servants will enjoy their rare free time as well, either staying in their quarters or heading into the town. Maybe that's what you should do, you think; go into town and distract yourself from your confusing thoughts about a certain valet, now that you have the luxury of time on your hands and no expectations of anyone.

"Miss, you seem a little flushed. Are you feeling well?" Eddie asks mischievously, stepping up behind you and reaching out to brush his fingers against the back of your neck. "You don't have a fever, do you?"

You jump, startled by the sudden touch and turning to look up at Eddie with a huff. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on me like that. You scared me half to death."

"Oh, did I?" Eddie asks, and the corners of his lips twitch upwards into a crooked grin. "Sorry about that."

You roll your eyes and try to suppress the sudden butterflies in your stomach. God, how could you have let yourself fall for someone like him, anyway? He'll be the death of you.

"Is there something on my face?"

"Oh, er...no," you murmur, suddenly feeling very flustered. "I was just lost in thought. I suppose you're also staying?"

"Staying?"

"Here."

Eddie makes a confused face, tilting his head in an adorable expression of perplexity. "Where would I go?"

You frown. It seems unlike Eddie to not find some sort of adventure in the rare and little free time you're given; he's always the first one eager to ride out to town and spend a free evening gambling and drinking with his friends, but this time, he doesn't seem eager to go anywhere at all.

"You...don't want to head into town with the others?" you ask, unsure of whether or not you're prying too much. "I heard the pubs are having a sale on ale and—"

Eddie sighs, running a hand through his curly dark locks and shrugging his shoulders. "Eh. I'm not in the mood, I guess."

You tilt your head, intrigued by his sudden change in behavior. Usually, he's the life of the party, the one who brings a room together with his energy and humor, but now, he seems almost...dejected.

"Eddie, is everything alright? Did something—"

"Fine," he replies a little too quickly, his voice sounding strained. He gives you a forced smile and reaches out to gently touch your shoulder. "Just tired, that's all."

You frown, unconvinced. "If there's something bothering you, you can always—"

"Sweetheart, don't worry, okay?" Eddie murmurs, his dark eyes sparkling in the dim light of the entrance hall. He leans closer, his fingers gently grazing over your cheek, and for a moment, your breath catches in your throat. "Promise."

Before you can say anything else, he's turning on his heel and heading towards the back staircase, his valet uniform swishing behind him as he goes.

You blink, your fingers lightly touching where his hand had been moments before. The sudden brush of his skin had sent electric shocks throughout your body, a heat building up inside your belly that you can't seem to get rid of.

"Excuse me," one of the maids whispers as she walks by, startling you from your trance. "I need to clear this hallway."

"Oh, um...sorry," you reply, flustered. "I'll get out of the way."

By the time you reach the servants quarters, most of the staff that had received permission to go out has already left. Most of the doors are closed, and the sound of chatter and footsteps and laughter fades out into the distance as you head towards your bedroom and gently shut the door behind you.

Your share your room with three other girls, but none of them are anywhere to be seen now.

Thank God.

You sigh, the dull roar of your thoughts finally starting to quiet down as you sit at your small desk and lean your head against the back of the chair.

You can't stop thinking about what had just happened.

Can't stop thinking about the sudden flirtatious behavior and the way Eddie had brushed his fingers against your cheek with a gentleness that made your knees buckle.

With a long, exhausted sigh, you rise to your feet and slowly start to unpin your hair from its tight bun. You replace your uniform with a simple cotton dress, comfortable enough for a night of light reading and...

A knock at your door jolts you from your thoughts.

"Hey, uh...sweetheart?"

You pause, blinking in confusion and taking a few tentative steps towards the door. "Eddie?"

It can't be.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Is something wrong?"

Eddie chuckles softly on the other side of the door, his voice sounding muffled by the heavy oak. "No, nothing's wrong. I, um...I found a jar of wine in the pantry that Mr. Harrington doesn't know about. Thought you might wanna join me?"

You bite your lip, a wave of nerves rushing through your body as you slowly reach out for the door handle. He shouldn't be here and you definitely shouldn't open the door.

But some things are easier said than done.

You carefully turn the knob and pull it back.

He looks downright sinful, his valet uniform unbuttoned at the collar, a few loose strands of hair falling over his forehead, dark eyes sparkling mischievously in the dim light of the hallway.

He holds the jar in his hand, the liquid sloshing around inside and giving off a slight spicy aroma that you can almost already taste on your tongue.

Male servants like Eddie are strictly forbidden from coming anywhere near the women's quarters, and if someone were to find you, it would be a hell of a lot of trouble for both of you.

"I—are you insane?" you whisper, unsure of whether to shut the door in his face or let him in. "If the housekeeper—"

"Come on, sweetheart, live a little. It'll be fun," Eddie murmurs, stepping closer and leaning forward so his face is level with yours. "Trust me."

You stare at him for a few more tense moments, your heart racing and your palms sweaty against the cool brass handle of the door.

Finally, you swallow thickly and step back, making room for Eddie to come inside.

As soon as he crosses the threshold, you shut the door quickly and lean back against it, waiting for the sound of footsteps or yelling or anything that would indicate the presence of another servant or staff member.

"Chill, sweetheart," Eddie murmurs with a smirk, carefully opening the window a crack and lighting a match to ignite a few candles. "Nobody's gonna come looking for us. Everyone's gone."

"Mrs. Byers is not, no," you argue, crossing your arms over your chest with a huff. Most of the time, you like the housekeeper; she is the closest thing to a motherly figure in your life right now. But she's also incredibly strict when it comes to rules. "She's probably somewhere lurking, as always."

Eddie chuckles softly, winking playfully in your direction. "Well, then we'll have to keep it down."

"Oh, for God's sake. Just open it already."

Carefully, Eddie pries the cork off the jar of wine and takes a swig, a grin playing on his lips. He takes a few steps towards you, holding the bottle out for you to take.

"Want some?"

"It's bad for your liver."

"Everything in life is bad for your liver," Eddie replies, tilting his head to the side. "C'mon, sweetheart. It's good."

You glance down at the bottle, taking in the sweet scent of dark cherries and spices, the bright purple liquid swirling around inside like a whirlpool.

You reach out, your fingers brushing against Eddie's as you take the jar and lift it to your lips, taking a sip.

The taste is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's sweet and tart and spicy and rich, all at the same time, with an intense burst of flavor on your tongue that you never thought possible.

Feeling your skin warm, you hand the jar back to Eddie and watch as he drinks deeply, his eyes sparkling in the soft glow of the candlelight.

"Are you sure no one will miss this?" you ask, glancing down at the bottle and wondering how expensive it might've been. "What if Mr. Harrington finds out?"

"He won't. Not if we don't make too much of a fuss," Eddie replies, his voice growing softer. "I bet nobody's even thought to look for it. And besides, he wouldn't know it was us anyway."

You cross your arms, raising a challenging brow as you sit on the edge of your bed. "How can you be so sure?"

"There's plenty of wine in the cellar," Eddie counters with a grin, putting his hands up as if he's surrendering. "I didn't steal all his wine. I merely took one that was already there."

"Don't take anymore."

"No promises."

"Eddie."

"Sweetheart."

The nickname sends a rush of heat to your cheeks and you shake your head, fighting a smile as you smooth the fabric of your dress.

He takes a swig of the wine, never taking his eyes off you, and leans back against the wall, the familiar scent of him drifting towards you like a wave of summer air.

"It's good, isn't it?" Eddie asks, cocking his head to the side. "And you're, ah...you're really pretty tonight."

You roll your eyes and try not to look too affected, pushing the stupid fluttery feelings back down into your stomach and stomping them out like tiny little sparks. "Are you already drunk?" you ask, chuckling.

"Pfft, no."

"Then why are you suddenly talking nonsense?"

"It's not nonsense," Eddie protests, his ears turning red. He shakes his head and moves closer, setting the wine jar down on the desk and rubbing the back of his neck. "I think you're...really great, sweetheart. Really amazing. In every single way."

"Uh-huh, sure."

You look away, pretending to be interested in something else so that Eddie doesn't have a chance to read the emotions on your face and pick up on all of the pent-up love for him you've stored inside for the last months — love that is, you've decided, better off locked up tightly in the chest in the corner and never spoken aloud.

He looks different in the soft and sultry orange glow of the low-burning candle, though — his curls illuminated by the light, his dark eyes sparkling, his soft lips curved into a gentle smile.

"Hey."

Eddie sits down beside you, and the heat of his body radiates outward and dances across your skin like the waves of a flickering flame.

He smells clean and warm and fragrant, like soap and fresh laundry.

You lean closer, looking up at him through your lashes and watching as he nervously wrings his hands together.

"You know," Eddie murmurs, smiling gently. "You make my life a lot more interesting than it used to be."

"Are you suggesting I cause you a lot of trouble, then?"

"Not at all," he replies, laughing softly and looking back up at you, his expression softening. "More like...just makes me wanna keep coming back to you, over and over. Even when I don't have to. And especially when I need someone to talk to."

You bite your lip, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you let his words sink in. "Is that why you're here right now? To talk?"

He blinks, his tongue swiping out over his lower lip as his gaze drops to your mouth. "Are you drunk, by any chance, sweetheart? Be honest."

"Why would you—"

"Because I'm about to kiss you, and I want you to be sober."

His words come out breathless, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as your lips part in surprise.

"I am...not drunk," you reply, holding his gaze and leaning closer, your hands tingling from his sudden proximity. "I'm entirely in my right mind. Definitely."

He grins crookedly. "Really?"

"Really."

"So, if I did..."

Eddie's voice trails off as he inches forward, his eyes lidding slightly as he moves closer and closer and...

He stops, his nose inches from yours, and the tips of his long fingers gently brush over your chin, lifting your face up to meet his. "This okay?"

"Yes," you manage, your voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

"Good."

His lips are soft when they finally brush against yours, gentle and warm and inviting, and you inhale sharply, feeling yourself go weak in the knees.

He tastes like spice and cherry, and you reach out to grip his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, your head spinning as he kisses you back with equal fervor, his hand gently cupping the back of your neck to keep you steady.

You gasp softly, his teeth grazing over your lip and sending a shock of electricity through your core, and you reach out, your fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket as you hold onto him for dear life.

"Fuck," Eddie breathes, panting softly as he finally pulls away. "God, that was good."

"It was," you whisper, looking up at him and biting your lip. "Worth the wait."

"Wait, what?" Eddie asks, raising a brow.

You blink, realizing you'd said that last part out loud and instantly wanting to crawl under the bed and die. "Uhm...nothing."

"Oh, please," he murmurs, smirking. "Tell me more. Did you have to wait a long time for this to happen, sweetheart? Hmm?"

"Absolutely not," you reply a little too quickly. "Forget I said anything."

"Nope, not letting you get away with that. What are you trying to hide, huh? How long have you been harboring secret feelings for me?"

"You're ridiculous."

"Am I?"

You lean back, your body screaming in protest as Eddie gently pushes you back onto the pillows and straddles your hips. He's heavier than you realized, and his fingers are calloused from years of work, but the mere thought of him touching you sends goosebumps up and down your arms and legs.

"Do you like me?" he whispers, his lips brushing against your neck and sending sparks down your spine. "Hmm?"

"Eddie, we—"

"Please, just...just tell me. At least let me hear you say it."

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours as he waits for you to answer. Your heart is racing, blood rushing through your ears and making you lightheaded and dizzy.

"I...no," you whisper, grinning when he raises a brow and scoffs. "Fine. Maybe. Only a little bit."

"Liar."

"Okay. More than a little bit. Maybe...maybe, I even love you, alright? Jesus. There, I said it."

Eddie's jaw drops, his pupils blown wide. "What, seriously?"

"Oh, alright, get off of me. I'm done with you."

"Hey, no, wait, wait, wait, I'm sorry," he breathes, grabbing your wrists and pinning your arms above your head. "Don't—don't go anywhere."

"Eddie."

"Shh."

He chuckles, his warm breath fanning over your lips and making you weak in the knees. "What?" you rasp, struggling against his grip, stubborn in your attempts to stay mad.

"You love me, hm?" he muses, smiling brightly and making your heart skip a beat.

"I take it back."

"You're not allowed to," he breathes, his mouth barely an inch away from yours. "That's not how it works, sweetheart. Sorry."

"You're very annoying."

"And you're very pretty when you're frustrated," he murmurs, brushing his lips over yours. "I...love you too, in case you didn't know."

"You what?"

"Love you," he repeats, his cheeks flushing pink. "Madly. Desperately. Quite embarrassingly, in fact, sweetheart."

You blink, your breath catching in your throat. "Really?

"Really," Eddie breathes, kissing you softly once more. "Shoulda kissed you the second I met you. Wish I had."

"Well," you murmur. "I suppose you'll just have to make up for lost time, won't you?"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #amy's flea market #🏷️ amy's flea market

102 notes · View notes