#Hashtag's fics

[hashtagdrivebywrites]

Hello, yes, howdy, welcome to...

✨Hashtag's Fic Masterlist✨

A little about me:

She/her pronouns

I write and sometimes make art

Here is my Ao3!

Asks are open! or you can drop me a message if you want to

I like ask games, but I might be late or accidentally lose track of them before I can respond to them (whoops!)

I'm into a lot of stuff so this blog/page/black hole will be a mixed bag of fandoms

[Updated October 10, 2024] - Fic links below:

Published, In Progress:

Imprint (DPxDC) (Baby G.K. Danny, Halfa Dad Jason, Fright Franklin Pickle Girl Knight, oddball co-parents, attempted qpr relationship) 10/10: Chapter 13 done - trying to finish out the arc so I can MAYBE get this thing back on a bi-weekly schedule again 😭

Meandros (AC: 3 x AC: Odyssey) (Time travel/Reincarnation, Kid Desmond, OC's, Deimos!Kassandra, dumb mercenaries with a big bro/dad complex, Desmond "I'm Done" Miles) 10/10: Chapter 13 done - trying to finish out the arc and picking at the sequel drafts

Published, Complete:

As Long as Stars are Above You (TMNT (mostly Bayverse and Next Mutation)) (Family Fluff, Surprise Baby Acquisition, Good Big Bros, Momma April) 15 Chapters; 39k words; Sequel in progress

Our Mother Breathed Fire (GOT) (Dragon POV, kind of a character study? I don't know) 1 Shot; 2k words

Your Blood That I Bleed (AC 1, 2 & 3) (Family of Choice, Immortality, Cat Dad Desmond, Assassin Dads) 10 Chapters; 74k Words

"In The Drawer" - On Hiatus until I can give it the attention it needs:

A Place For Us (Batman (mostly Arkham Knight)) (Families of Choice, Kids, Adoption, Bat Fam coming back together) 4/12: My first fic on Ao3 and it's been set aside for a complete overhaul because there's no structure/direction and there's a lot of issues with how I was writing/presenting the characters.

Unpublished, In Progress:

And Longer Still If I Can - sequel to As Long As Stars Are Above You (TMNT) (Family and Found Family, Kid Fic, Adventure Fic, Larval Form Mutanimals) 10/10: On pause!

Red Devil Rowdy (title may change; DPxDCxSDxSPN) (Paranormal Mystery/Detective Fic, Family Reveal, Identity Reveal) 10/10: 4/5 Chapters done - working on that fifth then will be ready to post

And Still You Stand, Sturdy and Smelling of Smoke (DC x Spider-man) (Peter Parker Fist Fights the League, Catatonic Jason, Hyper Independent Tim) 10/10: On pause!

Illing and Able! (title may change; DSxTMNT) (Time Travel, Older Turtles (21), Mom Friend April, Gratuitous Use of "Bro", "Dude" and "Yo") 10/10: First arc finished! Will be published in the same update w/ Imprint 13 and Meandros 13!

Holy War is On The Phone (DPxMHA/BNHA) (Ghost Prince Danny, Undercover Investigation, Fake Family, Pissed Off Danny) 10/10: On pause!

Redline (DCxMHA/BNHA) (Robin!Jason, Jason has the Metagene, Accidental Dimension Travel, Pro-Heroes/Older Class 1-A) 10/10: Finishing the first arc!

(Recently fallen head over heels into a Star Wars hyperfixation, which has naturally spawned a bunch of WIP's of its own, so expect some content soon (EDIT: there's three independent SW wips and three crossovers with other fandoms in progress - will list them soon on the WIP list (10/10)))

[2tarbell]

rafey who wants you to hold onto him at all times, but especially at a party with a bunch of douchey guys around… just holding onto his strong bicep or even wrapping your whole fist around his finger. he loves having you hang off him!!!

and of course he’s keeping a hand on you the entire night — looking ever the part of scary boyfriend as he looms behind you. hand on your hip loosely as you dance on him, tightening when a dude gets too close to you, shooting daggers over his red solo cup.

the stern expression on his face turns sweet when you spin around & snake your arms up his sturdy chest and around his neck. morphing into that charmingly boyish grin that makes you flush and bat your eyelashes. then he’s whispering praises & compliments into your ear all sultry like he knows you love.

“lookin’ so beautiful tonight, baby. s’all for me? atta girl — show these assholes who you belong to, yeah?”

[ksukiii]

canon bakugou texts 😜

don’t slander pls i’m new to tumblr😔

but i’m open to any suggestions 👍👍

[pru-dle]

So I read a fic that I’m totally normal about and did not hyper fixate on at all nah 💀 but I’ll be damned it’s so good and it’s so well written, it mixes humor and angst near seamlessly I’m in awe. Anyways belated (?)happy birthday @erinwantstowrite you legend and happy birthday Peter 💪🏽💪🏽

Yes I did learn blender just for this

[catcze]

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

"What flowers do you like?"

Wriothesley asks one day, trying to seem nonchalant. Trying to make it look not as obvious that he's already mentally running through a list of Fontanian florists.

But you hm to yourself, frowning. "I... don't know. I've never really received flowers before," you say with a shrug, acting like it's no big deal. Wriothesley, though, has to catch himself before he drops the pen in his hand.

"Never?" He asks with wide eyes, head snapping in your direction, jaw dropping the slightest bit. "None of your past relationships ever got you flowers?"

You shake your head, not really bothered by the fact, and although you're nonchalant about it, Wriothesley immediately feels the gears in his head turn. That mental list of florists runs through his mind at double the speed. His finger absently taps on the wood of his desk, mind racing as he does some rough estimations. Unaware and unsuspecting, you merely go back to perusing the books in his office, running your hands over their worn spines, oblivious to the clench in Wriothesley's jaw and the determined glint in his eye.

A week later, and Wriothesley returns from the surface with a bouquet in his hands. It's nothing too big or ostentatious— that's not really his style. Instead, it's simple in its beauty and easy on the eyes. All sorts of flowers have been included, even ones not native to Fontaine. Cecilias from Mondstadt, Glaze Lillies and Qingxin from Liyue, Padisarahs from Sumeru, and even Fluorescent Flowers from Inazuma's Chinju forest, among others. All arranged by hands more skilled and talent more honed than he could ever hope to achieve.

Wriothesley knocks on your door, heart stuck in his throat, and can't help but laugh a little at how cliche it all looks. Him, standing in front of your door with a bunch of flowers in hand, desperately trying to fight down his blush when he hears a 'coming!' faintly behind your door.

When you swing it open, your greeting is caught in your throat, eyes wide as they behold the blue and white blossoms Wriothesley brought for you.

"What... what's this? What's the occasion?"

But he shakes his head, and at his behest you take the bouquet into your arms, holding it carefully. When you bury your nose among the petals, they smell sweet but not saccharinely overpowering. It's enough to make you want to cry.

"No occasion," Wriothesley says, one hand going to scratch at the back of his neck, his smile shy and bashful. "I just wanted to get them for you. Wanted to be the first person to ever get you a bouquet of flowers, you know? But importing them took longer than i expected and, well, I told the florist that I was giving it to someone very special so they spent some extra time on the arrangement..." He trails off, clearing his throat nervously. "...Do you like it?"

And that sets loose the tears behind your eyes.

Wriothesley panics a little when he sees how you blubber, sobs making your shoulders shake as you hide your face in the flowers. His eyes widen, a frantic apology on the tip of his tongue while he fears that he messed up somehow. But then you tackle him into a hug, arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him close until you can bury your head in his chest and cry. His arms wrap around you almost hesitantly, but when you nuzzle closer into his embrace and they tighten around you.

You're barely able to speak through your tears, words muffled around his undoubtedly ruined shirt.

"I love it." I love you, you really mean.

And how can you not? This sweetheart of a man bought you flowers just because he wanted to. Because no one else had before, and he wanted to be the first person to do so. All his sporadic trips to the surface for the past week make sense— you doubt procuring so many imported flowers so quickly was an easy task on top of troubleshooting the various hiccups of the fortress and sorting through some documents that found themselves on his desk. But he did it anyway, just because he thought it'd make you happy.

"I'm glad," Wriothesley murmurs. He rocks you back and forth in his embrace until your happy tears begin to subside. Then he clears his throat. "So, can I buy you another one next week, too?"

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

[confettiibunny]

hold me, console me ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

Note :: puppy hybrid!leon, knotting + aftercare, idk I just ramble for 555 words and I wrote this with re2 leon in mind also mdni

──── ୨୧ ──── ₊⊹ ──── ୨୧ ────

The most romantic part about having sex with Leon is aftercare. You lay ragged on his mattress and barely know where your limbs are, more occupied with pulling air back into your lungs and the fat knot buried deep within your pussy. With every twitch of Leon’s body, you feel him, filling you to the brim and threatening to rip the seams of your puffy cunt.

Dark bruises and angry red bites wounds are a testament to Leon's fervent passion, along with scratches that adorn your hips. But it's all a patchwork of love to you and it hardly hurts in the moment; the line between pain and pleasure blurring when he's buried to the hilt in your cunt.

There’s something so tender about all of this, to quite literally be stuck together even after sex. To feel his chest rise and fall with every erratic breath. To hear him whisper sweet nothings into your ear, his voice so soft and innocent as he asks if you feel okay. To giggle as his tail thumps against the mattress. It’s a tangle of limbs and laughter and sweat and it’s beautiful in its own strange way.

Since neither one of you is moving away from the other, aftercare is Leon easing you to lay down all cozy onto the mess of clawed-at sheets and pillows. You feel him drag his tongue over your tear-streaked face, licking away the salt of your body. You often huff at his less-than-sanitary habits but he’s been such a good boy you let him. Ever so subtle whines escape him as he trails his lips all over your body like it’s the very first time he’s seen you, nosing into the crook of your neck to breathe in your scent and let it fill his lungs. Vulnerability invites a person’s truest self and with Leon laid bare before you, his eagerness to smother you in affection is clear.

And like a good lover, you reciprocate his affection with ease. You scratch him behind those floppy ears of his, holding back a giggle when you hear how he whimpers so beautifully. So receptive, it's as sweet as candy. Manicured nails caress his back, getting a rise over how he shivers from the feather-light touches. But you can't tease him too much or he'll get all excited again as much as you love your puppy, there's no way you'll be able to go for another round.

Eventually, his knot eases its way out of you with a pop and yeah, you really should get out of bed to wipe away all the slick cum caking your thighs but...nah. And you don't really have a choice to begin with Leon, as he keeps you pinned down to the bed. No if, and, or but you’re not moving and depriving him of the sweet comfort that is your body. 

“We can take a bath tomorrow,” he’ll argue. “Don’t want you to leave me.” Acting as if you’d disappear like a puff of smoke if you moved an inch from him. But it's not worth it to see those damned puppy eyes from him and have him nip at your fingers to keep you from leaving. Just once you can be lazy and indulge. For once you’ll shelve your problems for early in the morning. 

[capseycartwright]

oh what a terrible honor it's been (to learn that my blessings are things you call sins)

Hey God, it's me, Eddie. I hope you don’t mind that I’m sitting in your house thinking gay thoughts.

Eddie couldn’t help but giggle to himself as he thought the words. If he couldn’t be a bit silly while having a sexuality crisis in a Catholic church – when could he? 

Christopher leaves for Texas, Eddie goes back to therapy, unearths an emotional lockbox he had been fourteen years old when he buried, and has a lot of thoughts about how Buck is sunshine incarnate. In hindsight, it probably should have been obvious he wasn't straight.

ao3 link

t’s been a long time since Eddie Diaz had set foot in a church – of his own accord, at least. He’d been to the christenings and communions and confirmations of all of his various nieces, nephews, and cousins, he’d sat stiff in the pew as he’d watched friends, and family get married, trying his best not to remember how own wedding day, the way Shannon’s hands had shaken in his grip as they promised to love each other until death do them part, both of them young, too young to understand the covenant they were signing up to. Eddie had been there, for all those occasions, but he hadn’t gone to mass, or even sat in a church, just because he wanted to in a very long time. 

He wasn’t even really sure if he wanted to be there today, but it was a Thursday, and Christopher was in Texas, and Eddie wasn’t working, and he’d been having an extended mental breakdown for the last few weeks, and before he knew it, he was sitting in the pew of St Brendan’s Catholic Church, listening to a softly spoken priest with an Irish lilt to his accent – faded, after years in America, Eddie presumed, but still there, noticeable in the inflection of certain words – recite the Our Father. 

Eddie had never been to St Brendan’s before, but it felt like every other church he’d been to in his life. They didn’t all look the same, necessarily, though they followed the same format, rows of uncomfortable wooden pews and an altar decorated in gold, as opulent as it was suffocating. Eddie had thought it beautiful, before, the way Catholic churches were decorated in gold and jewels, believing for so much of his life that the wealth honoured God – but living life had made him learn the grandeur and displays of wealth were nothing more than indicative of the wealth the Catholic church had hoarded while their devout followers starved, all in the name of faith and of God. True faith didn’t need to be gilded in gold to be sincere, he’d decided.

Eddie had never been to St Brendan’s before, but mass was the same. It didn’t change – though the wording of some of the prayers did. He’d sort of been checked out of being a regular churchgoer by time they had changed some of the prayers, only discovering the difference when he confidently started to recite it wrong at his youngest niece’s communion, his mother fixing him with a glare so icy hell might have frozen over under the power of Helena Diaz’s gaze alone. He’d never learned the new ones, not really, and so Eddie just recited the one’s he’d learned for his own confirmation, the words falling from his lips, muscle memory more than it was faith now. 

Our father, who art in heaven – hallowed be thy name . 

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, a little, as he murmured the prayer. Hallowed be thy name. He knew the prayer talked about God, their holy father, but the prayer had always made him think of his own father, of the way Ramon Diaz was a hallowed man in his own right, how he parented with an iron fist and expected to be obeyed. 

Things were getting better now, with his dad. Maybe – maybe that was part of the fear. Eddie had always been afraid of letting people down, but more than anyone, he was afraid of letting his father down – of seeing that look of disappointment set into every crease of his father’s face, an expression he’d been on the receiving end of for more of his childhood than he’d like to admit. Eddie had tried so hard to make sure he was never on the receiving end of that look again, but nothing he had ever done was good enough – not marrying Shannon, not the way he had tried to take responsibility for his young family, not the army, not the man he had been when he’d come home from Afghanistan. 

Distance had lessened the number of disappointed looks, but Eddie knew that was because he was simply not seeing them anymore; he was sure his father sometimes frowned at the phone when they’d finally call, silted conversation about Christopher and life at the firehouse the best either of them could muster. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was getting better. 

At least it had been, until his parents had taken Christopher with them to Texas. It hadn’t helped their relationship – but it hadn’t hindered it as much as Eddie had expected either. He was never going to thank them, for the way they had swooped in, ready to take Christopher at a moment’s notice, but he could thank them for giving his son the space that he needed to process. Eddie couldn’t give him that space, right now, but he was grateful someone could. Still – he would be ready to drive to Texas at the drop of a hat when Christopher decided he was ready to come home.

Things were getting better, that was the thing. His dad called, every night, to update Eddie on Christopher’s day. Eddie could hear the familiar sounds of the Diaz backyard as his dad softly spoke, telling Eddie about how Christopher had been to the lake, with his cousins, and how he’d finished another book, and how he was helping Helena to make dinner, right then. It had filled the gap until Christopher had started to call Eddie himself, his voice tinny as he mumbled over the phone, things not quite back to normal, Christopher not willing to talk to him about anything except Marvel and Minecraft and how abuela’s tamales were better than Eddie’s, but better than they were, at least. 

Every time they were on the phone, Eddie reassured his parents that he was working on himself. He was back seeing Frank, every week, and at Frank’s encouragement, he’d joined a veteran’s support group. Eddie wasn’t exactly the picture-perfect military veteran he assumed he needed to be, to join a veteran support group, but the rag-tag group that met at his community hall every month weren’t exactly the flag-wearing, gun-toting veterans he’d expected them to be. James was a 63-year-old man from Massachusetts who ran the group – he had moved out to LA to live with his daughter after he retired and referred to himself delightedly as a stay-at-home grandfather. Luisa was a vet around Eddie’s own age, and she’d gone back to university after she got out of the army and got a fine arts degree. She liked to paint, and talked about her wife with a reverence and openness that Eddie could only admire. 

He hadn’t said a word the first time he went, and Buck had sat in the Jeep in the carpark, a ready-made escape plan for Eddie in case he decided it was all too much. Eddie had sat quietly as the group had chatted, drinking tea and coffee out of flimsy paper cups, and eating homemade biscuits – made by James, who, as it turned out, was quite the prolific baker – and he’d watched. He’d watched as the group had talked about their bad days, and their good days, and how they were coping with life after the military, and not a single glorious war-story was exchanged. 

That was when Eddie knew it was safe to keep going. He was never going to be a man who was proud of his service, and he didn’t want to have to attend a support group of people who’d talk about their time in the military like it was the good old days. He had spoken a little more, the second time he went – Buck doing his groceries, two streets away, rather than sitting in the carpark – and he’d introduced himself, his voice gruff as he tried to figure out what version of Eddie he wanted to present to the world. 

Eddie was still figuring that part out – the version of himself he wanted to be, that is. 

He was figuring himself out. That was the point. He was trying, he was really trying – and people could see that, Eddie was sure. His parents said they could, at least.

Which was why he was here – in a church not dissimilar to the one he’d attended every Sunday in El Paso growing up – on his knees, praying to a God he wasn’t sure he actually believed in for guidance. 

read the rest on ao3

[blorbocedes]

For the trope mash-up: didnt mean to turn you on + innocent physical touch for franco 'milf-hunter' colapinto and checo/lewis

okay hear me out. what if checo was a woman instead 🤭🫣

Checo's had a fucking year.

The car is shit. She's been saying for so long but now they finally believe it as even Redbull’s wunderkind Max struggles in it. Every other interview, news cycle is about her retiring, her being unceremoniously kicked out as drivers salivate for her seat, her middling performance due to early pre-menopausal hormones? Just 2 years ago, she was the Mexican Queen of Defense, and now it's 'is she Redbull’s DEI hire?' The stories have become outlandish, announcing her second pregnancy and retirement at Mexican Grand Prix. That's why after Daniel, who had very clearly been brought in to replace her, was switched mid season she posted the Wolf of Wall Street clip on her instagram to make it clear: I’m not fucking leaving.

So forgive her if she's been seeking a little respite elsewhere.

There's a hot, young Argentine at Williams that's been eyeing her. Checo’s a woman on the F1 grid, she's been eyed like that thousands of times, most of it unwanted. Although, it fell off after she birthed the twins and her tits never returned to their glory days. So it's a little flattering reminder she's still got it. Being able to speak in the same language also helps, not having to translate everything for doublespeak. They have rapport.

“How old are you?” Checo asks at the club. She's not there to celebrate, she just needs a drink. Franco’s at the stage where finishing a race is cause for celebration.

“Twenty five.” Franco replies in her ear entirely too quickly, with a grin.

Checo raised an eyebrow. She didn't keep track of the rookies but she sure as hell knew they weren't doing twenty five year old rookies anymore.

A group of tourists seem to recognize her, probably fans and she's in no autographing mood so she pulls Franco in closer in front of her, to block her five foot four self from the world. He misreads the signal, but is all too happy to step in closer; personal space be damned.

“Okay. I lied. I didn't want to freak you out.” Franco confesses sheepishly.

Checo drinks her whiskey, assessing it. “I was winning karting races while you were in diapers, yes?”

It makes her feel old just saying it. She doesn't know how Fernando does it.

Franco nods, pupils going dark.

“And…” she raises her left hand, eyes pointing to her wedding ring.

Franco smirks. “I don't mind if you don't.” He leans in for the kiss, and Checo leans back denying him. Too public. She's learned from that mistake. She does put her left hand on his nape, stroking it and praising the boldness. It's dangerous, sleeping with another driver. When you're a woman, it gives them too much power. That's why Checo never acted on Max's obvious interest. But Franco doesn't have a seat next year yet... as temporary and harmless to her prospects as it gets.

“Come on,” Franco’s voice betrays the frustration underneath the trying hard to be suave, “I know you're thinking it too. You'd rather be on a boat with me than this totally lame club. And what I might lack in experience, I can make up for in stamina.” He practically purrs in her ear.

“A boat? Williams is not paying you that much.” Checo laughs, even as she entertains the line about stamina. James is a penny pincher to a fault. And Franco might get F1 groupies impressed with that line, but as the primary breadwinner she knows a little better.

Franco’s undeterred. “Your boat then. I can be your yacht boy.”

Now wouldn't Checo love to be sunning on a boat, no kids running around, being waited on hand and foot by an eager, younger man who can go for round two in ten minutes. God, she hasn't been filled up in a satisfying way in so long, her cunt throbs at the fantasy, aided by the tall, warm body in front of her.

Checo bites her lower lip, and looks around. Nobody around them in paying attention to the dark corner they're in anymore. She takes Franco’s hand and places it over her breast, holding his gaze. For all his smooth-talking, Franco seems momentarily stunned, mouth parting in surprise. He has naturally red lips, Checo wants to bite on it. He tentatively squeezes her breast, and after seeing her nod, starts kneading it, thumb trying to find her nipple through the layers of her polo shirt and sports bra.

“Can I please eat you?” Franco’s voice is husky as he begs.

[gomacave]

yall i think i fw valenwind......

insp by "shadows of things that have been" by @drneverland which sold me on valenwind.......

(im not done reading yet dont spoil me!!111!!1)

[nibeul]

wish people would acknowledge mic's rage more often.

[lilmaymayy]

luke is my new hyper fixation 😫

theres no other way to live w/o him corrupting my thoughts

[swetearss]

well, i think challengers fandom is almost inside a coffin right now

[myokk]

Eloise🥹💓

[toxicanonymity]

what if everyone simply wrote blurbs for their favorite manspreading gifs and pics and tagged them #manspreading olympics?

[campbyler]

i know you guys have a few companion fics planned, and i read through the faq/answered questions and i may be stupid but i couldn’t find anything asking if you specifically have a companion fic planned about the music festival the party went to in chicago (between chapters 1&2 i believe), when mike and will got stuck carpooling together? i’m just curious if that’s something you’re planning on going into further detail about ☺️

i’m so excited for 10.2!!

we either haven’t been asked this before or haven’t been asked it in a Long While so it’s definitely not in our FAQs, don’t worry! we unfortunately don’t have a companion fic planned for this, we just thought having the party go to the eras tour together would be a silly little piece of lore to develop and write in given the premise of the fic and all. the gist of it is that max and el (resident swifties) + lucas (token boyfriend) would have planned to go anyway since the timing of it being during orientation week/weekend ended up working out, and i don’t think it would’ve been very hard to convince the others to go via promises of lower priced tickets and good ol’ fashioned friendship time. the companion fics we have planned are more so to expand on some turning points or important moments in the timeline, because the idea is that the fic should make sense without reading them, but reading them would provide a lot more context and hopefully flesh out our versions of mike and will and their motivations/intentions a lot more. i don’t think that really applies to this piece of lore, but as per ujhe we would be happy to talk about it on here whenever teehee

[seokminfilm]

made for me | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warnings: non-idol au, fluff, kissing, after-shower blues, seokmin uses pet names (baby, sweetheart), reader uses seokmin's nicknames, mentions of weight/body shape, hurt/comfort, seokmin soft hours

now playing: made for me, muni long | word count: 1.4k (for @kstrucknet)

The mirror was foggy in the bathroom as you stepped out of the wet shower, and you wrapped your body in the plush towel as you dried your hair.

You and your boyfriend Seokmin had gone on vacation to celebrate your second anniversary, and you were living the dream with him by your side. He had spent the whole day spoiling you, taking you out to candy stores, and giving you the option to pick lunch for the two of you to eat.

You had indulged in everything he got for you, and you felt like it was starting to show in your body. You were never really self-conscious about how you looked, but it seemed like today that was starting to change. You had refused a bowl of ice cream Seokmin was working on making for you and hadn't eaten anything since lunchtime.

Even now, as you saw your figure in the foggy mirror, your face fell as you fidgeted with your fingers, trying not to overthink it. Why did you feel so guilty about eating good food all day? It wasn't a crime, was it? Seokmin loved you for not just how you looked, but who you were as a person, and what you believed in—he stated that many times.

Would he still love you if your body was like this?

Before you knew it, cold tears were running down your cheeks, and you picked up your dirtied clothes, trying to dry them before you left the bathroom. The mood around you had dropped, and you could feel it everywhere, even in the bottom of your stomach. It was a sickening feeling, one you hated to feel.

After you had got some sort of composure, you left the bathroom, body being greeted by the warm air of the hotel room. Seokmin lay on the bed, texting on his phone as he cleared his throat, hand going to his neck.

He was wearing the sweater you had bought him in the city on your shopping spree earlier and the pants he had paid for himself sat baggily on the bed, bunching at a clump around his ankles.

He looked up from his phone at the sound of your shuffling, and his handsome features broke into a smile as he turned the device off. "Hey, beautiful." His voice was sweet to your ear, and you gave him a tight-lipped smile, dropping your dirty clothes to the floor.

"Did you have a good shower?" Seokmin asks, standing up as he approaches you. His hands run through your wet hair, and you nod quietly, letting him kiss you as he smiles against your lips. "Yeah."

"Well, good. Hey, I was thinking we could watch a romcom and I could order some snacks from the reception desk. What do you say?" Seokmin's eyes caught the light of the hotel room, and you offered him a weak smile, looking off to the side before you answered.

"You can eat the snacks. I'm okay." You say, and Seokmin takes your face in his hand, cupping your wet cheek as he frowns just slightly. "You sure? I was gonna order your favorite."

"Yeah, Minnie, I'm sure." You say again, and Seokmin nods, pressing a kiss to your lips as he returns back to the bed.

You watch him as he walks, heart clenching as the bathroom thought pops up in your head earlier. Seokmin said he would always love you, but would that change if you changed? Would it change if your body changed?

"Um, Seokmin?" You question before the thoughts get worse, and Seokmin looks up at you, attentive and ready. "Can you maybe...leave the room while I get dressed?"

"Baby—you want me to leave? I mean, I respect your boundaries and what you want, and if you really want me to go, I'll go, but..." Seokmin looks up at you confused, glasses going white for a second as his phone lights up beside him. "I've seen your body before, sweetheart. Why do you want me to leave now?"

Your face flushes at his question, and you look down at your slightly worn fingernails, eyes watering again. "I just...I don't think you wanna look at me."

Seokmin's face falls before he stands up, walking towards you again as he runs his hand through your wet hair again, soft lips parting as he frowns just slightly. "Baby, why would you think that?"

"I just don't think you want to look at me anymore. Why would you want to see me when I look like this?" You ask, and you hear your voice shake with unshed tears and tension in your chest.

"Baby, what makes you think I don't want to look at you anymore? I love looking at you. I love admiring you. I love you. Why would you want me to stop, sweetheart? Can you use your words for me?" Seokmin asks softly, voice sweet and calm as he holds out his hand to you.

You take it, and he leads you to the bed, sitting on the edge of it with you as you wipe your tears, now freely falling, with the damp towel.

"Let's talk about it, baby," Seokmin says softly again, patting your bare, damp thigh as you sigh, nodding. "Seok, I think I'm gaining weight."

Seokmin doesn't say anything, letting you talk instead as he stares at you with soft eyes as his hand continues to rest on your thigh.

"I looked in the mirror when we got back, and my stomach was a bit more rounder than before. I thought I was bloated and it'd go away on its own, but it's been almost three hours, Seokmin." Your voice sounds so foreign—so shaky and so unsure. The tears haven't stopped, and your lips quiver as you taste your tears.

"Baby, is that why you think I don't want to see you? Is that why you wanted me to leave the room when you were gonna get dressed?" Seokmin pulls you into a hug, arms wrapping around you as you nod quickly, letting your head fall into his chest and breathe in his natural scent.

"Sweetheart, look at me." Seokmin gets on his knees, taking your hands in his as he looks up at you. You do what he says, letting him take over as his brown eyes meet yours.

"You're still as beautiful to me as you were three hours ago, four days ago, two weeks ago, and two years ago. Nothing about that will ever change, no matter how big or small you think you are—physically or emotionally. Everyone's bodies are different, but that doesn't mean you don't get less love. Love is loving someone for who they are, not just how they look, sweetheart." Seokmin consoles you, and you nod, letting Seokmin wipe your wet cheeks of the falling tears.

"Never think because you grow or shrink in size that it will change how I feel or think about you. You are more than your body, baby." Seokmin smiles at you gently, and you nod, giving him a smile as he kisses your kneecaps and knuckles softly.

"I love you." You whisper, and Seokmin gives you a wide grin, the one that makes your heart flutter as he meets your eyes again. "I love you more. I'm always here—forever and always."

Nodding, you stand up, reaching out your arms for Seokmin as he pulls you into one more tight hug. Seokmin dramatically sighs as he hugs you tightly, making you giggle into his chest as he presses a quick, soft kiss to your lips again.

"Now, why don't you go ahead and get dressed, baby? I'm still getting snacks, though." Seokmin smiles, and you nod, holding his hands as you ask, "Can I still get some of those snacks?"

"Of course you can. Why are you even asking that?" Seokmin pouts, and you laugh, letting your head fall into his chest again as he scoffs.

"Okay, sorry, sorry." You apologize, and part from Seokmin's embrace, letting your towel drop slowly as you pull on Seokmin's sweatpants and shirt. The smile that forms on your lips when you meet Seokmin's gaze makes him smile too, and he can't help but sigh, approaching you as he kisses you lovingly.

"There's my pretty girl. You're so pretty and so perfect," Seokmin whispers as he pulls away just slightly, and you let your hands run across his broad shoulders, smiling up at him as he scrunches his sharp nose and kisses the tip of your nose.

"It feels like you were made for me," Seokmin whispers again, and you giggle, feeling like you were made for him, and he for you.