#plus Spring

[saviosart]

Chonky pillows is what they are

[artsymeeshee]

Another themed outfit for the Pines, this time cherry blossoms 🌸!!

[grrlmusic]

"Mary Jane ballet flats from COMME des GARÇONS HOMME PLUS, Spring/Summer 1999"

[midnightfox450]

The fact that Riz Gukgak (the boy who doesn't know how to take a break, who is deeply afraid of drifting apart from his friends, who "has a hard time connecting to his dearest friends unless he can feel useful") was the one who manifested a creature that forced The Bad Kids to work together again and robbed them of having a proper summer break is so poetic.

[grrl-beetle]

COMME des GARÇONS HOMME PLUS

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

WENT INTO A STARDEW FUGUE STATE LADS ITS FOUR THIRTY AM MY SLEEP SCHEDULE IS FUCKED GOOD NIGHT

[flaroh]

The Floralia 🌸🏛️🌿

honouring Flora, the ancient Roman goddess of flowers and blossoming plants. 🌸🌷🌿🌱

[b00kdiary]

Alright, based on your ACOTAR unpopular opinion about tamlin...I will get on my knees and beg you to write a Tamlinx plus size reader fic where she helps him heal and he is just head over heels in love with her Pretty please with sugar on top 💚

Beauty & the Beast | Tamlin

ACOTAR Tamlin X Plus Sized Reader

When Y/N finds Tamlin dying in the forest, she has no choice but to save him. Even if everything in her wished this male dead. Like two storms colliding, they meet. A broken High Lord, a hopeless healer. It almost sounds like fate.

Warning: PART ONE Mature themes (18+), swearing, fluff, and eventual smut next chapter.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"Wake up!" I hissed, "Wake up, you lumbering brute!"

The beast groaned, his lithe body writhing beneath my hands—hands that pressed desperately against the mortal wound at his side, trying to staunch the relentless flow of blood.

His golden fur was matted with red, the blood oozing from the gaping hole beneath his fifth rib. My palms were sticky with it, and the bitter, metallic scent filled the air. If I could smell it, I knew every predator and prey in the forest could too.

I shifted on my knees atop the muddied ground, my wide eyes canvassing the vast forest around me, scrutinizing every leaf and log and skitter of feet. I strained my ears, listening for any noises that would indicate that more of them were coming.

I glared down at the beast before me, that wolf's head lolling on the floor, his lion's body limp with pain, and those bear's claws coated with guts and gore.

"You're going to get us both killed," I cursed him, cursed myself, cursed the Mother and the Cauldron, and every other forgotten God out there for forcing this upon me.

I had found him passed out in this forest passage, a death rattle trembling from his lungs. If that hadn't been bad enough, my heart nearly stopped dead at the sight not fifteen feet ahead— Naga, five of them, ripped to utter ribbons and scattered across the dirt.

They had put up a furious fight if the scratches and claws and teeth marks covering him were any indication. Enough of a fight that one had managed to strike a deadly blow to the male before it died.

He had been dying when I found him, had lost so much blood for a second, I thought he was dead.

And now here I was— desperately trying to save him. Save the High Lord of Spring.

If he could even be considered that anymore.

I grit my teeth, steadying my breath as I let my power surge through me. White, incandescent light blazed from my hands, channeling directly into the wound. It stitched torn flesh, mended tendons, fused bones, and restored the ruined skin.

Only for a second though, before the injury tore open yet again and a fresh bout of blood began leaking through the gaps in my fingers. It was the same cycle I had been enduring for several long minutes now, and I began to fear his body would not take any more of this.

"For the love of the Mother," I pressed my palms down hard enough to hurt, hard enough for his muscled form to jolt. "You need to wake up, you need to change back to your Fae form!"

Panic rose in me like a tidal wave as his breathing grew shallower. This forest had become a death trap; these lands teemed with danger. If Naga roamed here, then so would bogeys, exiles, and Cauldron knows what other horrors.

Here, on this cursed ground, with this wounded, defenceless male, we were prey. We were as vulnerable as rabbits caught in a snare, awaiting death. And it was all because of him, the state he was in, the state of these lands, the monsters that had been tormenting the people and villages.

It was all because of him.

Anger blazed through me, bringing tears to my eyes. In a moment of desperation, I did something cruel, something that made my very soul weep. I plunged a finger into his wound, the flesh and blood squelching as I repeatedly stabbed into him.

On the third brutal stab, his fierce green eyes snapped open, shining like emeralds amidst the darkness.

The High Lord of the Spring Court roared.

The very land trembled with that roar, and I cringed as birds took flight from trees and the forest animals began dashing away — from the horrible power and anger that radiated off this beast.

He flipped, as fast as I could blink, snapping jaws and growling, nearly knocking me straight onto my ass as he did so. But as quick as that anger came, it was replaced by something far worse, far stronger.

The High Lord groaned, his mammoth form staggering back to the ground as pain overwhelmed him.

"What have you done?" He commanded, in a voice that was nothing Fae or human or safe. He tried to drag himself away from me, but somehow, I was the stronger one in this situation, keeping my hands staunching his wound. "What have you done to me?"

"Will you stop fucking moving?" I hissed, trying not to balk as those soulless green eyes latched onto me and he snarled. "I didn't do this to you, but I am the one saving your gods-damn life."

His claws extended at my words, latching onto the ground. He glared at me as if he wished that it had been my flesh instead.

"What are you doing— "

His voice was the epitome of raw, primal danger as his form moved, snatching back from my hands, from the white light that had begun leaking from it. I swore because as soon as my pressure disappeared, a steady tap of near-black blood began to ooze and puddle under him.

I gasped as he staggered onto his bloodied paws, so fathomably large that he eclipsed the forest, eclipsed the sun and sky above. The blood didn't stop leaking, yet that did little to deter the beast as he tried and failed to step away, swaying and groaning as he did so.

"Stop, you need to lay down," I fought the urge to grab him, cringing at the gore and blood painted across my hands, stuck under my fingernails. "You need to turn, I can't heal— "

"Do not touch me," Another monstrous snap of teeth and threatening snarl when I reached a hand to him. "Do not touch me, witch."

"Witch?" I laughed sardonically. "I am a healer you bastard, and I am trying to save your ungrateful ass."

He hunched forward, grimacing in pain, a pain I saw hollow out his green eyes. It took more effort than it should have for his powerful head to lift and those eyes to meet mine.

"Mind your tongue when you speak to me, witch," He warned, sharp, terse words undercut with laboured breath. "Do you know who I am? I demand respect as High Lord— "

"You demand nothing, you are nothing," I erupted, my voice rising with my temper as I pointed at him. My hands were bloodied, almost symbolic really. "Look at yourself, look around you. You are Lord of nothing, you are Lord of no one, and none but me is here to aid you."

He staggered another step, paws shaking from his weight. If he heard my words, if he felt the sting of them, I couldn't tell.

"You need to turn back to your Fae form if you want to live," I continued, my tone still unforgiving. "My magic is useless to you like this, I can't stop the bleeding until you turn."

"And if I do not?" He retorted, words beginning to slur together. Somehow, he didn't look so scary now—  he almost looked afraid. "Will your healer heart allow you to leave me here to die, Witch?"

"Turn," I said again, almost pleading now. Because the blood had begun to slow, and I knew that would not bode well for him. "Please, turn."

He blinked, long, dark lashes fluttering and that terrifying yet magnificent beast face stared at me, stared through me. I wondered if he was contemplating death if the darkness in his eyes was him resigning himself in defeat.

"If not for yourself," I said, my words strained. "Then for your people, for this court. Do not – do not abandon them wholly, Tamlin."

Tamlin. It was the first time I had uttered his name and as if the darkness had been pulled like a blanket from his eyes, I saw clarity shine within the green hues.

One second that foreboding, golden beast towered above me, and then the next, light flared, and I had to shield my eyes to endure it. It took me a moment to reorientate myself and when I had, my breath caught at the sight before me.

Tamlin knelt in the mud, with his head hung low, long blonde hair eclipsing his strong, beautiful face. Those broad shoulders hunched in, his body a canvas of muscle, carved and dipped and moulded to perfection.

He looked like a broken king. A bloodied monarch kicked down to the status of a mongrel.

His moon-pale skin seemed to shine under the dim Spring sun, his chest heaving with shallow breaths as he composed himself. The wound was worse in his Fae form, so much worse. I swallowed back the tinge of bile rising in my throat at the distinct sight of bone marrow and tendons peeking out the gaping hole.

"Cauldron, I need to heal that now— " I reached for him, and the infuriating bastard jerked back. I growled. "Do you want to die?"

His chest rose, faster now, his large, calloused hands curling into fists in the mud.

"Because believe me, your death would bear little impact on me, or anyone else." I continue harshly. "In fact, under different circumstances I'd probably be more incensed to watch you bleed out."

"Then let me bleed, Witch," He rumbled.

"If you die, we're all fucked." I spit, crawling angrily through the mud towards him, my dress streaked in dirt and filth beyond saving. "Because you have no heirs and no powerful contenders in your shitty court to supersede you. It's just you. And as useless as you are, at least the breath in your lungs is keeping this territory from completely collapsing."

His head lifted as I stopped before him, and my breath caught at the first real sight I got of his face.

Cauldron, he was beautiful.

Carved with an effortless kind of regality, his face was a canvas born of strong contours and noble lines that screamed power. High cheekbones, a straight, precise nose, and full yet firm lips, curled into a snarl that allowed the smallest glimpse of the sharp, white teeth beneath.

But it was his eyes that stole the air from my lungs.

Vividly green, deep and endless, like the heart of an ancient forest. And like a forest, they were still, fathomless, soulless. They stared through me.

He didn't argue with my condemning words. In truth, he didn't even seem to be affected by them.

But he unfurled his fists in the mud. And it spoke the words he wouldn't say.

Exhaling a deep breath, I shifted closer on my knees, closing the final gap of space between us. My small shaking hands reached towards that gaping bleeding hole, slowly, like one would approach a wounded animal.

Which Tamlin seemed to be. Wounded. Broken. Damaged beyond repair. The High Lord of Spring was a shell of the male he had been.

It was almost sad. Almost.

He sucked in a sharp breath as my palm connected with his torn, ruined flesh, squelching. I steepled my fingers over the open wound, his skin hot and electric against mine.

"This is going to hurt," I warned softly.

"Careful, or I'll think you care, Witch." He drawled, head bowed low again.

"Not likely," I muttered, and I thought I saw a hint of a sardonic smile.

I didn't dwell on it. I didn't view him as anything other than something I despised.

I clenched my teeth, forcing my breath to steady as I unleashed my power. White, incandescent light poured from my hands, sinking into the gaping wound. Flesh knit together, torn tendons wove back into place, shattered bones fused seamlessly, and raw, ruined skin smoothed as if untouched.

The air hummed with magic, the light pulsing in time with his shallow breaths—until, at last, the wound was nothing more than a ghost of pain left behind.

His chest expanded with a deep, powerful breath and with the exhale, the forestry around us quivered. It was raw power. And yet I had the distinct impression that it was a mere whisper of what he truly possessed in his arsenal.

It was the crumbs of what remained after months of stagnation and stifling.

He groaned, hunching forward, his fist meeting the ground to steady himself. Instinctively, I reached forward, small hands gripping his broad shoulders and using my strength to keep the brute from collapsing and eating dirt.

An electric hum of power burned through my palm where it met his skin, so potent it prickled through my bloodstream and straight to my heart, thumping it loud and hard, again and again.

Ba bum. Ba bum. Ba bum—

He tore his body from mine, a snarl rumbling in his chest. "Unhand me, Witch. I'm fine."

My eyes narrowed into slits, palms curling into fists and retreating to my sides. "Yeah, you seem fine. Perfectly normal to keel over in the dirt."

Emerald eyes shot to mine, narrowed and sharp with anger at my sardonic tone.

"And you're welcome by the way," I spat, tossing my braid over a shoulder and rising to my feet indignantly. "You know, for saving your life."

My dress was ruined, the simple blue cotton stained with mud and blood and Cauldron only knew what else. The fabric stuck wetly to my body, clinging uncomfortably to every swell and dip and roll I had.

His gaze flickered from my face down my body. His snarling expression didn't shift, but there was a distinct flare in his eyes. Like a male seeing something that he couldn't deny, even if he wanted to.

Heat bloomed my cheeks, and I roughly cleared my throat, straightening my spine. "Guess we're done here. Try not to die again, High Lord."

I bowed mockingly, enjoying the grumble of annoyance that revved through his chest. Before straightening, shooting the male one last scathing look and turning on my heel in the forest and walking away.

I cringed at the blood caking my hands, cringed more as I tiptoed over the mutilated bodies of the Naga scattered around. I'd need to find a stream, or some kind of well, if I walked into the next village looking like a mass murderer I'd be chased off with pitchforks.

Perhaps if I—

A pained grunt broke through my inner thoughts and my feet stopped before I commanded them to. I turned back around and then huffed. "Oh, for fuck sake."

The High Lord of Spring was passed out on the floor, face buried in the dirt.

I hesitated and then trudged back towards him, cursing the Mother for my misfortune.

***

When my senses finally returned, two things became clear.

One: Night had fallen, meaning I'd been unconscious for hours.

Two: The loud, foul-mouthed witch who had saved my life was still here.

With more effort than I cared to admit, I turned my head to the side, the movement sending a dull ache rippling through my skull. A rough, lumpy branch pressed against my neck, its bark biting into my skin.

Blinking away the black spots that danced at the edges of my vision, my gaze settled on the witch.

She crouched before a crackling fire, her small, plump hands outstretched toward the flames. Now and then, she plucked a broken branch from the pile beside her and tossed it into the fire, the wood hissing as it caught.

My eyes traced over those hands—clean now, the dried blood and filth scrubbed away. She must have found water. Where there had once been crusted gore, there was only smooth, unblemished skin, her nails polished and pristine, glinting faintly in the firelight.

I recalled how they'd glowed, incandescent and pure, when she'd pressed over my gaping wound and healed me. The heat had been both excruciating yet relieving, the feeling of that fatal hole closing inch by inch felt like a breath of fresh air after an eternity trapped underwater.

She was a healer, though in five hundred years, I'd never encountered a healer like her, or any female like her. Brazen, out-spoken, mouthy beyond what was smart or necessary.

If I didn't owe her a life debt, I'd likely have torn out that viper tongue of hers. Or plucked out those sharp, piercing eyes that glared and narrowed and rolled as if I were a pest she had stumbled across.

Cauldron, the witch had infuriated me enough that I'd almost forgotten I was dying.

My gaze unconsciously swept over her form. Another distracting thing I would begrudgingly admit to. Her body was pure sin. A temptation any hot-blooded male would be unable to deny.

I rake down the spoiled fabric of her dress, the blue cotton stained red from my blood, dried and flaking. It clung to her obscenely, highlighting the swells of her ample figure in a way that would make any God-fearing male send up blessings to the Cauldron and Mother above.

Much to my chagrin, I was staring. Even with a splitting migraine, and a soul-deep ache, I was staring.

"Finally awake, sleeping beauty?" That viper tongue of hers drawled, and my green eyes snapped up from her body to those unforgiving eyes.

My gaze narrowed.

Her eyes rolled in response, and she chucked another log onto the fire, the flames crackling and rising high. Against the backdrop of the dark, silent forest, the amber fire kissed her skin, highlighting the plump curves and the tart persona.

"You're welcome," She muttered drily. "You know, for saving your life. Again."

"I wasn't dying, Witch." My voice rumbled out like a thunderclap.

"No, you just passed out into the dirt, sweating, heartbeat near non-existent and then didn't awake for half a day," Another eye roll, "Sounds perfectly normal to me."

I tried to raise myself onto my elbows. Tried and failed. A growl rumbled in my throat.

"You came back." It wasn't a question. Just a statement. As flat and unfeeling as my soul felt.

"Seemed a waste for me to make such an effort to save your life, only for you to die from exposure," She shrugged. And I had the distinct impression this female truly did not care if I lived or died.

It should have offended me, perhaps hurt me, but instead, I found it begrudgingly admirable. She hated me and had no qualms being up front about it. That kind of honesty was rare.

I vaguely recalled her words earlier.

"Bastard."

"I am trying to save your ungrateful ass."

My lips almost tugged into a faint smile, a flicker of something akin to amusement blazing to life in my chest. It was an emotion I hadn't experienced in such a long time; I had difficulty even placing it.

My eyes sharpened upon her as she began to walk over to me. Instinctively, I curled my fists in the dirt, feeling the pinprick of my claws hidden just beneath the skin. If she felt my hostility, my aggression, she didn't acknowledge it.

My face was steel, immovable, as she knelt by my sprawled figure. Her face was a mirror, I quickly realised—steel, immovable, and cold—as if it was her instinct to resent being near me, too.

She reached for me, a damp scrap of cloth in her palm. I jerked back, and she glowered.

"Stop moving," She bit out, "or I'll pin your overgrown ass down."

Cauldron, she was a demon.

Ignoring my deathly glare, and the flash of sharp canine teeth, she merely placed the damp, cold cloth against my neck. With more tenderness than I'd expected, she began to carefully soothe my overheated skin.

My breath caught at the first touch of coldness, like ice meeting molten fire. But also cause of the brief touch of her skin against mine. Those soft small fingers grazing my throat and collarbones with each precise, gentle stroke of the cloth.

Her face betrayed nothing as she ran the cooling cloth over my skin, water droplets running down the carved muscles along my pectorals and abdomen. Though she clearly held contempt for me, this female soothed and cared for me with a touch that could only be described as God's-send.

It was the first moment of peace I'd felt in.... so long. Too long.

The forest around us eerily silent, except for the distant noises of lurking animals heard in snapping branches or rustling bristles. The moon above glowed— Dimly. Like everything in Spring, it was dim, depleted, as if the energy had been sucked dry from it.

Because of me.

Spring Court was weak, broken, vulnerable. Like me. A mirror image of the barren landscape that was my soul.

The Witch ran the cloth down my sternum, and the tingle rippled like dominos across my spine.

"For a Witch, who obviously disdains my mere existence," I said, more strained than I'd like. "You're helping me an awful lot."

Another drag of that cloth, down my stomach, my abdomen clenching. "Would you rather I let you die?"

"I think you would rather I die," I mutter.

Those eyes roll again. "I already told you; your death would do more bad than good."

"If you die, we're all fucked. Because you have no heirs and no powerful contenders in your shitty court to supersede you. It's just you. And as useless as you are, at least the breath in your lungs is keeping this territory from completely collapsing."

Right. I was the last thread holding this court together. Ironic considering I'd been the one responsible for its downfall to begin with.

"Have we met before, Witch?" I caught her small wrist in my large, calloused hand. Pressed my thumb against her pulse point and felt it race. The only sign that my presence affected that ice-cold exterior.

"No. we haven't." She said, her wrist in my hand still. "Though I doubt you would remember even if we had. Why bother, I'm only a lesser Fae. Common folk."

Her sharp words had my fingers tightening around her wrist, not painfully, but firmly. "So, you hate me without even knowing me?"

"I know enough."

My fingers tightened further. "You know nothing, Witch, I am—"

"I know that before, you ruled this land like one would rule an army: with an iron fist," She gritted out. "I know of the tithe you forced upon your people, even those who could barely feed their kids. The sanctions you placed as punishment when the common folk could not deliver to your heathen demands. The utter lack of mercy you had."

Her palm curled into a fist, her pulse pounding like a war drum under my thumb.

"I know that you are the reason that Spring had crumbled to the ashes," She continued on her unforgiving tirade. "Some blame Feyre Cursebreaker for the ruination of Spring. But me? I blame you."

Something cracked open in my chest at Feyre's name. The old wound leaking blood, so much, I swear I tasted iron on my tongue.

"Listen here, Witch," I snarled, tugging her by the wrist I still held, until her face hovered over mine. "Control your tongue, before I—"

"Before you what? What, you swine?" She breathed, fire in her eyes. "Because from where I stand, not only is your power little more than a spec, but your strength is even less. So do not threaten me."

My claws inched out my knuckles as I glared this viper down. She didn't so much as blink at it.

"It was your stupidity, your arrogance, your entitlement over Feyre that led you to allying with Hybern, led you to 'winning' her back," She continued, "And the ruin she inflicted upon spring, upon Ianthe, upon your sentinels, and army... it was all your doing."

"She betrayed me," I barked. "She betrayed us all."

"Feyre laid the traps," She scoffed, "But it was your selfishness, your pig-headed, easily led insecurity that made you fall straight into them. You betrayed her first, we all know it. So, stop lying to yourself and me."

"You don't know," I breathed, fist closing like a vice around her wrist, talons pressing to the delicate skin, not yet breaking through. I felt like a fire was burning through my heart. "You don't know, Witch."

"Perhaps not, perhaps that truth is one only you, Feyre and the Gods share," Her voice shook, those eyes glossed with anger and tears. "But after? What excuse do you have for abandoning this Court, Tamlin? What excuse is enough to explain what this land has become?"

The pain in her words felt as raw as her reaching into my chest and squeezing my stagnant heart. My eyes clenched, from weakness, from pain, from denial. I wasn't sure.

Her fingers gripped my chin hard, shook my face, forcing me to open my eyes again. "Look at me! Damn you, look at me!"

I did.

Tears welled in her eyes, her plump cheeks burning red and streaked with tears. But still her lip curled at the corner, a flash of white teeth.

"The sun barely shines; the moon hardly rises!" She continued, voice breaking. "The very earth itself is dying, because you have given up. You roam these lands, resigned in your beast form, and each day this court suffers more and more for it."

My talons pierce the delicate skin of her wrist, scarlet blood pooling from the pricks. But she doesn't flinch at it— I imagined her emotional pain overshadowed the physical.

"And the monsters that dwell here," A noise akin to a sob comes from her and I flinch. "Do you even know what is happening in the villages? What atrocities the common folk are enduring?"

A fresh bout of pain speared my chest. I was feeling again. Fuck, I forgot how much it hurt to feel.

"Monsters— Naga, Bogey, Puca— they roam these lands, uncontrolled," Her chest heaves as she says each word, "But it's our own people, the Fae of these lands, who terrorise us so greatly. Pillaging villages, murdering, raping, stealing, burning homes and business, taking children and wives!"

Breathing became a burden. As if the forest around us disappeared, and the pain that had throbbed in my body and mind and soul had been washed away, all I knew, all I felt, was this female. Her sorrow. So strong, I could taste her tears on my tongue.

My fingers loosened around her wrist, talons retreating into my skin.

"I watched my village burn as they came," She cried, "I saw homes and houses ruined, I saw men slaughtered and their heads spiked on lances and paraded. Women raped and violated before their families. Children beaten and chained. Barely a handful of us survived."

Something wet and hot began leaking down my cheeks, saltiness bursting across my tongue. I blinked back the fog over my eyes, wanting, needing, to see her anguished face above mine as she raged and sobbed.

Cauldron, I was crying.

When was the last time I'd cried?

"All these innocent people dead, violated, lives ruined. And do you know what they prayed for? Begged for?" She snarled at me, a gut-wrenching sob tearing from her mouth. "They prayed to the Cauldron for the High Lord to come save them. They prayed you would come, and you didn't!"

My body jerked, and I damn near almost begged her to stop. Please stop talking. Please stop making me feel this. Please stop.

"You didn't come," Her shoulders shook, head bowing forward as she whispered again and again. "You didn't save them."

Please stop.

Her face blurred in my vision, a cloud of endless tears falling. I didn't speak; I didn't make a sound. I had nothing to say— no excuse, no reason, nothing that could ever undo this. Nothing.

"Feyre betrayed you, but you betrayed us," She breathed. Her head lifted, and those agonised eyes locked onto mine. A look of condemnation from a thousand souls. "You betrayed us."

A gurgled noise bubbles at the base of my throat, the muscles clenched so tight I could barely get down a breath. My fingers tightened around her wrist almost desperately.

She watched me.

Waited.

My lips parted, mouth opening— speak, you fucking bastard, say something, say anything! Nothing came out, no words, no sounds, nothing.

She scoffed, tearing her wrist from my hold, severing the connection between us, and I felt it like the loss of a limb. I watch her hand swipe across her face, smearing snot and tears angrily.

I reached out my shaking hand as she rose and stalked away.

"Sleep, Tamlin," She said coldly, settling onto a log beside the fire, her back to me. "And pray the monsters don't come out to play tonight."

***

I don't know when I fell asleep. Or how.

Perhaps from exhaustion, or pain, or perhaps my bleeding heart drained any reserve I had left until my body had no choice but to sleep.

But when I awoke, I knew two things yet again.

One: It was morning, and the dying sun shone overhead.

Two: The Witch was gone. 

___________________________________________________________

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Taking requests for all SJM men x plus size reader!

PART TWO COMING SOON!

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[shopwitchvamp]

Witch Vamp can be cute too, you know

This week's restock is live now! We're temporarily feeling a little less goth and a little more pastel 🫣🌸

🖤 witchvamp.com 🖤

[acowardinmordor]

I think when Steve gets Vecna'd, Eddie adds together what he knows about the situation and comes to a logical conclusion. To him at least. He knows that Steve came here asking for heavy drugs and high quantities. He knows that Steve was sounding a hell of a lot like 'sleep' meant something worse.

He knows that Steve is X, and that means all of the horrible things that Eddie knows X thinks about himself, the guy in front of him thinks that too. He knows that Steve, ever since the letters stopped, has been upsetting the freshmen by being distant and cold.

The only assumption he can come up with is that Steve already took something, and it's hit. Or it's causing a reaction. Or its a bad trip.

He has no hesitation about touching him, immediately checks his breathing and his heart rate. It sorta, kinda seems like an overdose, a little bit could be an allergic reaction, but Steve is trembling like he's scared, and his body is stiff. Those explanations don't make perfect sense, so he watches for something that would mean it IS medical, and heads towards his better guess.

Bad Trip.

Steve is high, and is in a bad brain place, and that means he needs to be grounded. Music helps, right? When he was on that bad trip with Rick after his first senior year, Rick put on one of Eddie's tapes, and talked to him. Calm shit. Encouraging shit.

Eddie fully ignores the flickering lights - electrical gets weird in the trailer sometimes - and grabs the mixtape he made for X, and shoves it into his sorta fucky boombox. It's a mix of X's favorite songs, and the ones he mentioned in his own letters. He doesn't know if Steve ever listened to them, but that tape is the only thought he has.

Gets it playing, and grabs hold of Steve's arms. He knows that Steve stopped talking to him. Since Steve knew who he was, and Eddie didn't know who X was, it means Steve probably doesn't care if Eddie wants him to be okay.

Eddie talks about how everyone else feels.

He tells him about how protective Dustin is. How angry Lucas gets anytime anyone says a bad word about Steve. How Eddie has never seen Robin smile so much. How no one judges him for needing to repeat a year. Everyone knows about how hurt he got, and everyone gets it. No one thinks worse of him for it.

He knows his voice isn't exactly calm and soothing, but the longer this insane eye-flutter, non responsive thing goes, the more terrified Eddie is.

"Steve, please, please, it's okay. Just find your way back. try to breathe, try to feel your body, and you'll be okay. I know - I know I've been an asshole to you. I know, okay. But the boys, Robin, shit, fuck, Steve, I need to apologize for shit, so you gotta slow down your breathing. Whatever you're seeing, it isn't real. I promise it's not real, okay? Come back to the real world and I can get you feeling better, I promise. Steve? Steve?"

He doesn't notice at first that Steve is starting to float. He's too focused on his face, the way his eyes are still rolled back. He lets go before he can notice his own hands rising with him. Shits too real, this isn't just a bad trip, he needs help, he needs an ambulance, a cop, anyone that can actually help Steve.

He has the phone in hand, and is about to dial when he turns back, needing to keep looking at him while he begs someone to come fast. He sees Steve in the air.

One step closer, then another. He keeps trying, another whispered sentence or three. But the lights are going crazy, and the music is staticky, the dialtone is screaming, and suddenly Steve is flattened to the ceiling, arms pulling slowly to the sides.

Eddie runs.

Leaves the door swung open as he throws himself into his van. His hands are shaking and he's hyperventilating too hard to notice Max Mayfield sprinting across the road, up the stairs and into the trailer. He's pulling away, when Max screams as Steve falls.

He hears the scream, he hears and feels the heavy thump of a weight hitting the ground. He knows what that sound must mean.

Eddie runs.

Behind him with the tape still playing, Max holds onto a terrified Steve, who has trickles of blood on his cheeks, and bruises blooming on his arms.

Steve, alive, cursed, who immediately asks if Eddie is safe.

[punkrockmlchael]

Stupid Shower

Masterlist | Gareth Emerson Masterlist | Corroded Coffin Masterlist

Gareth Emerson x Plus Size Best Friend Fem!Reader

(Both Gareth and Reader are in their early 20s)

This fic is for: spring break pop-up event by @corrodedcoffinfest ; the prompt is “I've got two words for you: Spring. Break.” This is very heavily based on my recent trip to Mexico because that was quite literally the shower in my hotel room! I also really wanted to write about plus size reader so... hehe!

Prompt: "I've got two words for you: Spring. Break." | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | POV: Gareth | Relationships: Gareth Emerson x Plus Size Fem!Reader | Content Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content | Tags: Gareth Emerson, Spring Break with Best Friends, Spring Break, Sexual Thoughts, What the fuck is that shower?

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Pining, Sexual Thoughts, Slightly Perverted Gareth based on thoughts of Reader, Smut: Descriptions of Oral (Fem Receiving), Unprotected PinV, Creampie, afab reader

Synopsis: Your Spring Break hotel room has a nice and weird shower to share with Gareth for the week.

Word Count: 1000

“I’ve got two words for you,” you said, looking at Gareth as you placed the hotel room key to the door. “Spring. Break.” You pushed the door open and walked into your hotel room for the next week with your best friend trailing behind. 

“Spring Break in Mexico, huh? You sure know how to live it up.” Gareth mumbled, following after you. You quickly began placing your bags on one of the beds, claiming which you wanted. Gareth, however, stopped. 

He was staring at the walk in shower that sat in the middle of the room. 

The glass that looked to the room was frosted slightly, but other than that it was a completely open shower—you could see everything if you were standing at the vanity, walking to the bathroom or even simply entering the room. 

Gareth’s imagination ran wild at the sight of that shower. He thought about everything he could do in that shower—including you.

He was hoping he would catch a quick (or long) glimpse of you through the shower doors sometime this week. Catching you washing your hair, scrubbing the shampoo through your locks gently, cleaning away all the salt water and sand from the previous day. Catching you lathering up the body wash on your loofah before scrubbing away the sunscreen from the day, rinsing your entire body under the rainfall shower head. Running your hands all over your luscious and full curves as you made sure all the soap was washed down the drain. 

And you knew that he was watching, he was always stealing glances at you when he could. Whether you were in sweatpants and a t-shirt, a skirt and crop top, your two piece swimsuit that made your curves look oh so good; it didn’t matter. 

Gareth was always staring at you. 

Staring at your soft skin; he dreamed of running his fingers over your skin gently, feeling every single curve, dimple and divot beneath his fingertips. Staring at your plush thighs; he dreamed of sticking his face deep between them, breathing in your scent before licking up your folds while your thighs squeezed tighter and tighter around his head. Staring at your soft stomach and the curves of your hips and waist; he dreamed of placing his hands on your hips and waist, pulling you closer to him as he kissed you harder, lips moving frantically against yours as you both shared in a heated and intense make out session. 

He thought about what he could do to you in that shower. How you could both stand under that water together, hands roaming over each other’s wet bodies while your lips pressed together. He'd pull you closer to him, his grip firmly on your hips while he kissed you passionately under the rainfall shower. 

And it would only take a couple of minutes for things to get heated. Because before you knew it, Gareth would be pushing you against the glass wall of the shower, feeling up your entire body with his wandering hands. He would run them over your round breasts, over your soft stomach, over your waist, over your hips, over your thighs; Gareth would touch every part of your body, taking in and committing every little imperfection, curve, divot and dimple to his memory. 

You’d moan at the feeling, relishing in his simple yet lustful touches as he continued to move his hands down your body. Eventually he’d reach your thighs, lifting your right one up as he pushed his tip at your entrance, rubbing through your folds gently before he slowly pushed into you, letting you take him inch by inch.

He’d bottom out, moaning into your ear as he felt your velvet walls flutter around him, basically begging him to move and give you the release you needed and craved.

And he would; he would slowly begin thrusting in and out of you, getting faster each time he heard your little moans and gasps. 

Your leg would wrap around his body, pulling him closer to you as he thrusted deeper with the new found angle. Face buried into your shoulder, he’d leave soft kisses up and down your neck while you moaned again, the shower only making those moans sound louder as they echoed through the small space around you.

“Gareth, shit, gonna cum,” you’d whimper, biting your lip. He’d pick up his pace, thrusting harder and deeper as small ah-ah-ahs left your mouth rapidly.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” Gareth would purr into your ear, encouraging you and praising you through your release. As soon as he heard your head fall back against the shower wall and he felt you clench and release around him, he was done for. 

Thrusting up into you deeply, he’d moan your name so loudly and pitifully as he released inside of you. Coating your walls with rope after rope of his hot cum. He’d ensure to pull you closer, making sure each and every drop stayed inside of you. 

“Gare,” you’d groan out, looking up at him with a hazy look in your eyes. 

“Yeah, baby?” He'd ask, leaning in to kiss your lips softly as you both stood in the shower together. 

“I love you,” you’d mutter against his lips. He’d smile, one hand making its way to your face gently to pull you in for a deeper, more passionate kiss.

...

“Gareth!” You shouted, standing on the balcony of your hotel room. “Come see this view!”

Gareth shook his head, looking around the room. Placing his bags on the free bed, he walked towards you; he stood beside you on the balcony, looking out at the ocean view. 

“Damn,” he mumbled. 

“It’s so pretty!” You stood at the edge of the balcony, arms resting on the wall in front of you. 

“Yeah,” Gareth muttered. He stared at your curves in front of him, watching you as you smiled and took in the view. 

It was going to be a long Spring Break week. 

Stupid fucking shower.

gareth tag list: wanna be added? comment + let me know! @keeryhours ; @darkyuffie-blog ; @luveediary ; @the-witty-pen-name ; @bastardstevie ; @pupwrites ; @swiftieintheupsidedown ; @hawkinsmafia ; @the-unforgivenn ; @corrodedcorpses ; @cowboylikemunson ; @alastorssimp ; @losingmygrasponreality ; @iitsmandii ; @abitchyouhate ; @dollysev

[heartstopperthoughts]

[pimosworld]

Secret Springs Resort

Pairing-Joel Miller x f!plus size reader

CW-18+, MDNI, Angst,hurt/comfort, mentions of body insecurity, mentions of food insecurity, mentions of smut, Joel being so supportive, reader hiding her feelings at first but we always end with fluffiness. Dream vacation Joel vibes.

WC-1.2k

A/N- I decided to go with a different direction for this weeks theme at the Resort for the Secret springs challenge by our mayor @secretelephanttattoo. I love this idea, it was so fun to write despite the angst, it’s just in my nature to make you feel a little.

[Series Masterlist][Joel Miller Masterlist]

Not beta read

Indulgence

If you thought he didn’t notice the first night then you had seriously underestimated the man that was Joel Miller. 

  The man that had turned your world upside down the moment he stepped foot into your kitchen that he would soon remodel. The kitchen that you got to enjoy for just shy of a year after it was completed before selling your home and moving in with him. The newly remodeled kitchen being the major selling point. The smug look on his face when you got well over the asking price. The look that you so often indulged in wiping off his face when you had him writhing beneath you. This burly, breadth of a man that made you believe in love again. 

  He most certainly noticed on the first night of your vacation. The one you had both worked so hard for. 

  Secret Springs Resort

  An all inclusive beach resort vacation that he had meticulously planned down to the minute. Even the daily naps were planned because he knew how you could get bratty when you were tired. 

  It pained him the way you picked at your food and shuffled it around the plate as if he wouldn’t notice. 

  The way you squint your eyes in fake pleasure to signal that you enjoyed the bite. 

  The look he so often noticed at home during a meal or out to dinner but he so foolishly thought you would be care free while in this oceanic oasis.  

  The second night. 

  When you blamed the sun burn and your headache as to why you couldn’t eat much more than a few bites. The way your eyes watered when he moaned eating his steak and you stared longingly at the buttery garlic noodles that you wanted to dive headfirst into.  

  You said you were too full for dessert and yet Joel knew you better than that. A small sliver of hope when he let you feed him some ice cream, but his hopes quickly squashed when you had one bite and pushed it away. 

  The third day was your day to relax. No excursions planned and the weather far too hot to lay on the beach. Joel opted to lay among the sheets with you for most of the morning. His head resting between your plush thighs as you played with his thick curls. 

  The way it always started out so innocent and yet he could have you falling apart beneath him in minutes. 

  It’s the most relaxed he’s seen you this entire trip, and even if he dies for lack of oxygen he’ll never come up for air if it means seeing you like this. 

  It’s why he opts to spend the entire day taking full advantage of the luxury suite. Finding different ways to bend you over every surface of this room…the balcony, the couch, the bathroom sink. The shower steams until the mirror fogs over. Fucking and laughing until he thinks he may have pulled a muscle. The way you call him an old man in jest because he knows he could outlast you any day. 

  It’s why as he watches you sleep, your soft curves peeking out beneath the rumpled covers as the sun sets over the water he decides you’ll just complete the day inside. A quick call to room service and the woman on the other line doesn’t balk when he nearly orders everything on the menu. All your favorites so there’s no room for argument. In the safety of your private room, away from prying eyes so he can finally put a stop to whatever is holding you back. 

  It’s the smell that first wakes you first. In the quiet comfort of the sheets you get the hint of the savory aroma of fresh baked pizza and garlic bread. Your stomach growling and heart warming at the familiar smells that fill the air. You blink sleepily as your gaze falls on Joel, shirtless with his jeans hung low on his hips as he bustles around the room. Plates and silverware clinking as he sets up a small table on the balcony. 

  He turns with a gentle smile as he hears you rustling in the sheets. “Hey there, sleepyhead. I hope you’re hungry.”  

  Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of the spread. A large pizza with all your favorite toppings. One half with pineapple because Joel thought it was blasphemy. A steaming bowl of pasta with Parmesan cheese and marinara sauce. Golden slices of garlic bread arranged neatly on the side. 

  Your throat constricts with the unexpected sensation of gratitude and anxiety. 

  “You…you didn’t have to do all this.” You murmur, feeling a rush of vulnerability. 

  Joel strides over to you on the bed, draping the silky resort robe around your shoulders. “I know.” He says softly as he places a kiss on your forehead. “But I wanted to darlin’. Ya deserve to enjoy all your favorites without feeling self conscious.” 

  Tears well up in your eyes as you look up at him. Overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, at the way he surprised you everyday. “Thank you.” You whisper, with a slight tremble. “It means a lot to me.” 

  He didn’t expect you to bend so easily, yet he’s relieved all the same. A sense of pride blooming in his chest as you sit together on the balcony sharing bites of pizza and stories about your past. Things you want for your future, some things he’s heard and some things he’ll pocket for later. 

  He can tell as the meal goes on and you relax that you want to say it. To tell him why you’re this way, but he already knows it’s him. The reason he had to break down so many walls. The man whose name is rarely mentioned in your home because anytime it is Joel wants to find a way to make him a missing person. 

  When he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars as he twirls the pasta on the plate and holds it out for you, like an olive branch to open up. 

  You start tentatively to explain your past insecurities. How your ex made you feel ashamed for enjoying food. How he always made sure you knew to eat less than him. 

  “I always felt like I had to justify why I ate.” You say quietly as you sip your water. “But you…you make me feel comfortable just being myself.” 

  Joel reached across the table to take your hand, placing a kiss to your palm. “You don’t ever have to justify anything with me baby.” He says earnestly. “I want you to be happy and feel good about yourself. You should cuz you’re fuckin perfect.” 

  You smiled gratefully as he wiped a stray tear from your cheek. You knew with Joel beside you, you could let go of old hurts and embrace moments like this. Where kindness, understanding and a simple meal could say so much more than words could express. 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

If there was ever some beach occasion Captain Marvel/Billy would dress in a red-white striped 1920’s men’s one piece for a swim, complete with thunder emblem on the chest as always

[spittyfishy]

Spring Unsprung has always been my favourite of the eah specials and it is fully because of the tipsy turvy curse lol

[stopper-my-heart]

Here's another adorable mini moment (Heartstopper S1E6). Tao has just asked, "So...we're ordering a second round, right?"

As the gif shows, the group agrees, and Nick says, "Yeah, I mean, we can go and get them if you want."

Taking a closer look at this:

Nick says "we" can go and get them without specifying who "we" is, and it wasn't obvious from the preceding conversation. So not only is Nick just casually lumping Charlie in with himself, he's also assuming that everyone else will understand that Charlie is the rest of his "we".

Nick didn't even non-verbally check with Charlie before making this offer, that's how strong his assumption (or hopeful confidence) is that Charlie will be okay both with being part of the "we" and with being volunteered by Nick to fetch the milkshakes together.

Perhaps the best part of all of this is Charlie's reaction:

He does a quick double-take at Nick with a little smile sneaking in, and then he tries his very best to not get stuck on what has just happened and to remain casual in front of the group.

Charlie's slightly delayed "yeah" of confirmation to the group that he and Nick will get the milkshakes is pretty convincingly nonchalant, but it's still clearly trying to be nonchalant, basically saying, "Yeah, whatever, just gonna go get the milkshakes with Nick who volunteered 'us', no big deal".

Honourable mention of additional cuteness:

After Tao's question about ordering a second round, Nick and Charlie instinctively look at each other to coordinate their responses. They quickly look away though, possibly because they've realised they "shouldn't" be checking in about their answers (especially in front of Tao and Elle who don't (yet) know that Nick and Charlie are on a date).