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blog-vanillaperfume · 4 years ago

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Attractive New Vanilla Perfume

Pair this together with your favorite worn-in leather jacket to increase your smolder issue by tenfold. Since then, I’ve graduated onto a more subtle fragrance wardrobe and traded physique sprays for actual big-girl eau de parfums. My vainness is well-stocked with fragrances each luxe and indie, however none have yet to elicit the identical response Rachel introduced out in my middle-school self vanilla perfume.

The intoxicating scent that appeared to embody sophistication, sweetness, and sexiness all at once? No one ever advised me I smelled delicious, but each time I spritzed myself, I felt instantly more desirable .

Then, it develops into heftier notes of cherry and caramel.

This warm, floral perfume provides off a hint of spice that strikes the proper balance between sexy and complex.

Vanille Insensée opens up with a blast of fresh glowing citrus and vanilla – with whispers of coriander spice and a few woodiness in the background.

A spicy tackle the normally gourmand and cloyingly sweet vanilla, this fragrance has lots of depth and character.

Pure Madagascar vanilla, vanilla perfume creamy tonka bean, & soft heliotrope mix for a seductive expression of nature. Part of Guerlain's Exclusive collection, this was actually created by Jean-Paul Guerlain, the fourth and last master perfume within the Guerlain dynasty. It's a fragile vanilla splashed in boozy rum – warm, sweet, sexy and thoroughly intoxicating. Pure vanilla opens with fresh jasmine and lime then beds down into oak moss, woods and spicy coriander. The result smells easy, understated, cosy, and elegant like wrapping your self up in the softest cashmere jumper. Impactful and memorable, Nest’s Midnight Fleur Eau de Parfum combines exotic woods, black amber, and patchouli with the warmth of vanilla orchid.

For greatest outcomes, spray our fragrances on those pulse factors the place the blood runs closest to the pores and skin; behind the ears, inside wrists, behind the knees or the décolletage. [newline]These days it can be discounted as too cloying or too fundamental but lest we overlook, it's a bona fide aphrodisiac with a confirmed capability to assuage, seduct and even enhance arousal. All merchandise are independently selected by our editors. If you buy something, we might earn an affiliate commission.

A powdery true vanilla, this isn’t too candy or too artificial, albeit it's a little little bit of each. Perfect for these days whenever you wish to odor like one thing warm and cosy, that is an inoffensive blind buy. However, vanilla is one notice which may be beautifully utilised in a fragrance without it costing lots. So, if you’re a fan of this sweet spice, we suggest the following budget-friendly perfumes with completely different versions of this note to strive.

A signature mix of pure essential oils, nature similar oils, and botanically derived aromas. [newline]Even although it’s is difficult to supply, synthetic vanilla flavoring and fragrance have made this sweetie rather more accessible. It’s reasonably priced, readily available and meaning more sweetness, muffins and vanilla for all. It’s a pleasing, well-blended perfume that showcases the eponymous vanilla with out smelling bakery-like or overly female. Lignin is a category of advanced polymers that give woody plants their structure. Imitation vanilla derived from lignin was once made with the pulp waste from the paper business. So don’t overspray this one; 1 – 2 sprays MAX …and you’re set.

With hints of sweet tonka bean, Vanillary warms and develops on the pores and skin to create an intoxicating aroma that's been a buyer favourite for years. The smoky notes of tobacco mix harmoniously with the rich white vanillic notes. If you’re on the lookout for the most effective vanilla perfume for long winter nights, look no further. I would describe Vanille Fatale as a delicious fragrance.

Delicious and candy, this scent is also available in a rollerball model for individuals who need just a touch with out committing an extreme amount of. The flowering vanilla orchid vines take up to three years to mature and as soon as the vanilla beans are fully grown, they must be on the vine for a minimal of 9 months before vanilla perfume harvesting. Plus, it takes about five to seven pounds of vanilla beans to produce one pound of vanilla – it’s plenty of work, however it’s a candy reward. On the other finish of the spectrum is Tom Ford’s Tobacco Vanille which highlights the seductive and sensual side of vanilla. The fragrance opens with a big intoxicating blast of each vanilla and tobacco. While the vanilla starts off as a sugar-sweet gourmand, it quickly turns right into a more delicate and darkish sweetness.

Both women and men can enjoy wearing this elegant perfume. Vanilla is commonly related to feminity, however this product has proven to be a best-seller for men as properly. The smell of Black Opium derives from a powerful blend of pure vanilla and occasional. The help of the primary accords comes from numerous floral notes. These notes bring the alluring effects of coffee and vanilla back to the bottom in a beautiful method.

For a barely more subtle fragrance, go for vanilla perfumes with a heart of woody patchouli that creates a wealthy, heady, finally ultra-feminine scent. Those seeking a extra trendy scent should look for perfumes with more masculine or uncommon notes, like Jo Malone’s Vanilla & Anise Cologne or Tom Ford’s Tobacco Vanille. Given how tricky vanilla is to domesticate, the vast majority of the vanilla scents and flavourings you may come throughout are synthetic (99% of them, in fact). Choose right and it could possibly smell phenomenal – creamy, sweet, smoky, spicy or floral. But first you have to find one which's not too sickly and never too candy. This is one of Atelier Cologne’s best-selling fragrances, thanks to the candy vanilla notes, which rework into a sultry, rich aroma as soon as utilized.

In reality, it still has a hint of the original Alien DNA – but with some added candy creamy horny vanilla. Lira opens up with a candy creamy glowing orange citrus vibe – from a blood orange and vanilla/caramel combo… with hints of liquorice and cinnamon. The resinous woods and vanilla continue into the dry down and you get a deep earthy notice with whispers of incense. It’s like a creamy vanilla combined with a burning wood vibe. Memoirs of a Trespasser opens up barely smoky, with a candy boozy vanilla vibe and a few woods.

There’s a distinctive boozy and smoky character to the scent that’s not found in some other scent. This is a rich, daring and heat fragrance that can suit women who exude class and confidence. This is the best vanilla fragrance for those looking for a selection of rich undertones.

Mon Guerlain Intense is a superb vanilla perfume for ladies who want to odor exquisitely candy and endlessly romantic. In this guide, I’ll inform you in regards to the eleven greatest vanilla perfumes for ladies, including superb designer and niche fragrances for each style. “Chergui” by Serge Lutens is a incredible unisex vanilla scent. It’s the proper match for ladies and men who take priority in having an aura of magnificence to them.

You're already on your approach to a scent-sational discovery. Dior Addict is amongst the best perfumes that odor like vanilla for girls with a passionate nature and a beautiful, heat heart. Gypsy Water is a wonderful vanilla-scented perfume for women that smells identical to freedom and never-ending adventures. Black Opium continues to be a top-selling vanilla perfume. And, it's going to probably continue to dominate the market for years to return.

If that doesn’t showcase tried-and-tested expertise, then I don’t know what does. Viva la Juicy has all the time had a knack for producing unbelievable perfumes for reasonably priced prices. With this vanilla perfume, you will get a fragrance that is high quality however will not break the financial institution.

Just because this is probably the most traditional "vanilla perfume" out of the bunch would not make it boring—quite the opposite, actually. Vanilla is spiked with jasmine and fresh lime, then shaken and garnished with notes like oak moss, wood, and spicy coriander. It’s the scent you want your dream associate to be sporting when you lock eyes for the first time in a crowded bar, and also the scent you want to be sporting when the moment occurs. There’s something magical about this fragrance in the truth that it’s one method or the other extraordinarily comforting and dizzyingly pulse-quickening suddenly.

Inspired by an evening in Paris , it is a soft sensual vanilla with a smoky, oriental undercurrent that draws you shut and feels very sultry and romantic. Plus, it manages to navigate away from feeling sickly or cloying fully. A crowd-pleaser, blind-sniffed this blend of berries, honeysuckle, amber, caramel and vanilla got here out on prime. A straight-shooting vanilla, this does edge barely into cupcake territory, however what it is actually perfect at, is layering up other perfumes to make them slightly warmer, sweeter and creamier. We might earn a fee on anything purchased via our hyperlinks.

When it involves vanilla perfumes, there are many fans of the popular notice on the market. We've obtained such an enormous range of sweet, citrusy, natural, and floral perfumes that choosing one can seem daunting, but it does not should be. Whether you're shopping for a new perfume on-line or in-store, we may help you slender down your search with a few suggestions and tips.

“Vanille Fatale” is another high-end vanilla fragrance from the legendary Tom Ford. Compared to Tobacco Vanille, Tom Ford’s Vanille Fatale is a extra casual, easy to put on fragrance. While it’s simple to put on, it nonetheless has plenty of hints of luxury. This high-end vanilla fragrance by the legendary Tom Ford is not your common luxurious scent. It’s the most effective vanilla perfume for ladies in search of to combine femininity with sexuality.

Best-known for being Rihanna's favourite fragrance, this is a syrupy gourmand that smells like cream soda, fluffy marshmallows and clouds of candy floss, blended with a glug of sensual vanilla. It's ambrosial, heat, candy, creamy and alluring (just like you'd anticipate our goddess, Ri-Ri, to smell). However, it takes a very sweet tooth to drag it off. Save if you shop for vanilla perfumes with these Selfridges low cost codes.

Sweet Spicy Smoky Vanilla

Sweet and subtle, this fragrance is perfect for spring and summer season, when the flowers are blooming, and spirits are excessive. We’re undecided how the word “vanilla” developed to mean bland, fundamental or boring – as a result of the truth is, vanilla itself isn’t even near being blah. It’s the coziness on prime of a woodsy notice, the dash of sweetness in a spicy scent, the seductive hint in a floral base, and it’s in some of our most-known fragrances . Vanilla has a creamy, heat, comforting, but additionally slightly unique scent.

Armanisì Eau De Parfum For Ladies 50 Ml

We love that it’s refined, sophisticated, and instructions attention, but not in an overbearing means. This warm, floral fragrance offers off a touch of spice that strikes the right steadiness between horny and complicated. The first spritz opens with a fruity-floral aroma that lightly transforms right into a warm rosy, vanilla bouquet.

Both the scent and design of the bottle were inspired by the character and soul of traditional glam rock. This offers Black Opium a darkish and mysterious idea and character. A character not seen in any of the mainstream fragrances. Essential oils include excessive concentrations of every botanicals essence or taste. Our proprietary, all-natural formulation process ensures that every fragrance offers long-lasting scents.

This is the vanilla-scented perfume that set the unique standard. And, to this present day, it’s one of the very top vanilla perfumes available on the market. Despite the prominence of vanilla scents in perfumery, vanilla perfumes aren’t at all times easy to get proper. That’s why we've created this exhaustive listing of the most effective vanilla perfumes. The top choices come from numerous price ranges and backgrounds. Each of the top vanilla-scented perfumes on this listing has a distinct take on the odor of vanilla.

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medea10 · 5 years ago

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My Review of Rent-A-Girlfriend

How did I get into this anime? Let’s just say due to a few websites I frequent around decided to be little whore-ish, I became curious by this particular title. Let’s just say they were mentioning this one at least every other day prior to the premier. So out of natural curiosity and knowing nothing of what I’m getting into, I decided to add another Friday anime to my watch list. I guess Fridays are my busy day for watching anime!

Kazuya Kinoshita is a 20 year old college student. Life seems to be going well for him until his girlfriend decides to dump him.

Not even 30 seconds into this anime and this sad-sack gets dumped!

SERIOUSLY! 18 SECONDS! NEW FRIGGIN’ RECORD!!!

So after Kazuya gets dumped, he ends up on a website and before you know it, he’s made arrangements to go on a date with a rented girlfriend! Yes, these are very much a thing. You can go to a website and pay a woman to go on a date with you. Apparently, Japan has a lot of these services and it does get a little ewwie with it so I’m gonna move on with the synopsis.

The girl he ends up going out with is named Chizuru Ichinose. The first date seemed to be going well, but Kazuya felt off by this girl. He just thought Chizuru was just playing with her clients hearts, plus he’s still a little heart-broken from his previous girlfriend, so he gives her a bad review. So when they go on their second date, Chizuru’s cutesy, sweet act is replaced with someone who is tempermental and sassy.

Just then, Kazuya gets word his grandmother collapsed!

I know it’s weird in the synopsis, but just go with it!

With word of his grandmother in the hospital, Kazuya ends up taking Chizuru to the hospital with him. Turns out Kazuya’s family jumped to the obvious conclusion that this girl is his girlfriend and they went nuts. Mostly at the fact that their son actually got a cute girlfriend! Add another layer of WTF to this cake, Chizuru’s grandmother is in this exact, same hospital as Kazuya’s grandmother. And both ladies are over the moon that these two are dating (even though that’s far from the truth). Chizuru hasn’t even told her family that she’s working at Rent-a-Waifu! Well, let’s just break things off and let the family down easy.

Oh, look! They both go to the same university. Oh look! They’re also next door neighbors. I smell shenanigans!

BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: At this moment, the only one streaming this series is Crunchyroll. A few weeks into the premier, Crunchyroll started airing a dub. As for the sub, this is my first time really listening to the main lead’s seiyuu, Shun Horie. But the rest of the cast has a nice mixture of memorable voices like Aoi Yuuki, Rie Takahashi, Sora Amamiya, Gakuto Kajiwara…oh fuck!

DAMMIT ASTA, STOP HAUNTING MY EAR-DRUMS!

As for the dub, Crunchyroll is currently publishing an episode once a week. The dub is just okay in my opinion, really nothing to write home about. The only thing I can say is that Aleks Le did a fairly-decent job voicing Kazuya. After voicing Zenitsu last year, he’s got a knack for voicing wimpy twats. Here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

JAPANESE CAST: *Kazuya is played by Shun Horie

*Chizuru is played by Sora Amamiya (known for Toka on Tokyo Ghoul, Aqua on Konosuba, Miia on Monster Musume, Akame on Akame ga Kill, Elizabeth on Seven Deadly Sins, and Yachiyo on Magia Record)

*Mami is played by Aoi Yuuki (known for Iris on Pokemon BW, Madoka on Madoka Magica, Kayo on ERASED, Yuuki on SAO II, Tatsumaki on One Punch Man, Tamaki on Fire Force, and Kinako on Inazuma Eleven GO)

*Ruka is played by Nao Touyama (known for Chitoge on Nisekoi, Koga on Bunny Girl Senpai, Nii on Blue Exorcist, Akira on Kono Oto Tomare, Momo onAi Tenchi Muyo

ENGLISH CAST: *Kazuya is played by Aleks Le (known for Zenitsu on Demon Slayer and Ake on Shield Hero)

*Chizuru is played by Lizzie Freeman (known for Cardinal on SAO: Alicization, Iwanaga on In/Spectre, Trish on Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Pt. 5, and Felicia on Magia Record)

*Mami is played by Laura Stahl (known for Ray on The Promised Neverland)

*Ruka is played by Sarah Williams (known for Sayaka on Madoka Magica, Felix on Re:Zero, Nonon on Kill la Kill, Mirai on Boruto, Lisbeth on SAO, and Puck on Berserk 2016)

DISLIKED CHARACTER: And now, a poem…

Roses are red Mami’s a cunt…

That’s the poem.

SHIPPING: I can honestly say I didn’t expect the Rent-a-Girlfriend and the Ex-Bitch to meet each other in the second episode. Even after going on a few dates with Chizuru, Kazuya still finds himself “beating his meat” to the thought of his ex, Mami. Only for the girls to beat your meat to change places just a few episodes later!

Oh yes, it’s that kind of series! Kazuya jacks off quite a bit.

Kazuya x Chizuru: At times it feels like Kazuya is really falling for Chizuru for who she really is and not the façade she puts up as a rental girlfriend. But I guess the number of awkward setups and situations these two have been thrown in throughout the series can do that to Kazuya. I mean, how else do you expect Kazuya jacking it off to Chizuru when he’s trying to think of his ex?! Yeah, he’s lied to his family, Chizuru’s grandmother, and all of his friends about this relationship and this relationship is as fake as a three-dollar bill. But there are a few genuine moments that show these two care for each other. Kazuya was ballsy enough to jump off a moving boat to save Chizuru when she fell overboard. And Kazuya felt concerned when Chizuru was thinking about leaving the rental girlfriend profession. Though that could be Kazuya being a pathetic sack of shit and wanting to continue this farce relationship and paying a girl for some attention! It’s so hard to say something kind about Kazuya wanting this relationship to work. But for what it’s worth, I like the farce ship better than the next thing I’m going to speak about.

Kazuya x Mami: I don’t like this bitch and I hate this ship. From the get-go you go in hating this succubus. And when we see her again in episode 2, bitches be bitches! Getting drunk in a public setting and making fun of Kazuya not being man enough for her (in the sexual sense). Then, we get Mami trying to go home with Kazuya when Chizuru is gone. But we don’t stop there, she’s trying at every opportunity to make Kazuya drop everything and fall in love with her again. She’s the one that dumped him, but can’t stand seeing Kazuya with anyone else (no matter the awkward circumstances). It’s clear that Mami has severe jealousy issues. I mean, Chizuru is prettier and nicer than Mami. Meanwhile, Mami is a manipulative scum-wad with the charm of a poisonous snake.

Kazuya x Ruka: Ruka was a rental girlfriend from a different agency and was on a double date with Kazuya, Chizuru, and Kazuya’s idiot friend that sounds like Asta. But due to several misunderstandings between Kazuya and Ruka, turns out Kazuya is the only man to get her heart rate up. So Ruka cuts ties with the idiot friend who hired her and has set sights on Kazuya. And she will fight for her man no matter what. She’s even ballsy enough to interrupt Kazuya’s family celebration of New Years by coming in like an asteroid to fuck things up. At this point in the series, Kazuya’s grandmother is dead-set on him marrying Chizuru. Any other girl is shit compared to her! But Ruka will continue to do her thing. Even applying to the same job that Kazuya works at!

Kazuya x Sumi! You expect me to say something about this? They had one bleeping date! And she’s barely seen outside of the opening and ending themes. If there’s more interactions in season two, holla back at me because this ain’t happening. Although, I’ll support the fuck out of this ship over Kazuya x Mami!

BIG SIMPIN’: So being an older millennial (or X-ennial as I’m currently classified under), I am not hip to the lingo of these youngins. Because of Kazuya, the internet uproared by calling him a phrase known as a “simp”. Well, I don’t want to seem like some out-of-touch boomer. So I’m just going to look up this “simp” term and see if this is legitimate. Let’s see what the Slang-tionary says.

“Simp is a slang insult for men who are seen as too attentive and submissive to women, especially out of a failed hope of winning some entitled sexual attention or activity from them.”

Okay. I think it’s time for the rap interlude of this review.

I don't know what you heard about him But a bitch will get every dollar out of him No cherry-poppin’ as you can see That he’s a motherfucking S-I-M-P

ENDING: Being a rental girlfriend isn’t something Chizuru wants to do, but this gives her practice in what she really wants to do, which is become an actor. And as of recently, Chizuru has been thinking about quitting the rental girlfriend agency. So what would happen if Chizuru quit being a rental girlfriend? That’s a question for another day and another season!

So only a few people have learned about Kazuya and Chizuru’s relationship being the most complicated farce in anime history. Halfway into the series with Ruka’s introduction, she caught on about Chizuru being a rental girlfriend. And because of that incident, Kazuya decided to come clean to his idiot friend, Shun. When Shun hired Ruka to be his rental girlfriend, dude was on top of the world. But when Ruka exposed what he did in front of Kazuya, Shun got severely depressed. Kazuya decides to pay for Chizuru to take Shun out on a date. That’s when Shun finds out that Kazuya hired Chizuru after Mami dumped him.

You know what? I have to spring this up! How long did you think Kazuya was going to hide the rental girlfriend thing to his friends? He’s friends with a bunch of stinkin’ virgins. Lonely, stinkin’ virgins! Plus, if Chizuru is rated #1 on a Google search for top rental girlfriends (as it was established in episode 10), I’m surprised no one else caught on, including the grandmothers. Kazuya’s grandmother is constantly playing on her smart phone. Shun is on the internet all the time. I’m surprised there isn’t an annoying pop-up ad in Japanese Google that would flash at them at any point saying, “Meet legal Japanese chicks in your area” redirecting them to the rental girlfriend website. Followed by giving you a gnarly computer virus!

Well, we’re 10 episodes in a 12 episode series. Why not finally introduce the fourth girl that we’ve been seeing in the opening and ending themes all season?! Chizuru asked Kazuya for a favor to go out with the new rental girlfriend at the agency to help boost her confidence. Enter, Sumi! The best way to describe this silent, moe-blob is a less busty version of Mikuru Asahina. Kazuya and Sumi’s date went over somewhat okay. Kazuya saved Sumi from a bunch of thugs. And while Sumi was silent throughout the entire date, she managed to squeak out a thank you at the end. So not a bad date, right?

Unfortunately, during the date, Mami saw them and trailed them. And it went down just as you would imagine! Mami confronts Kazuya, Kazuya comes up with some bullshit lie to Mami, Sumi is still silent, and Mami is up to no good after she leaves.

Because Mami learned Sumi’s full name, she went to the internet to find a profile or something on a social network. That’s when Mami learned that not only Sumi was a rental girlfriend, but Chizuru as well. It’s not so bad that Shun knows about Chizuru, but if Mami finds out, game over. Game over, Kazuya! So what happens next?

Mami catfished Chizuru by calling her out for a date using the rental girlfriend website! Then they go to the karaoke bar Kazuya works at for their “date”.

GAME OVER KAZUYA! GAME OVER! You lost all 5 lives. Please return to world 1 and may God have mercy on your simpin’ ass!

Kazuya watched their date from a distance (and this time he didn’t get caught eavesdropping like the last time he followed Chizuru). And after a cute mention of the singers to the opening and ending theme to the series, Mami and Chizuru end their date with an exchanging of words. All this proved is that Mami is still a jealous bitch with a dead look in her eyes and Chizuru likes Kazuya. We think! Either Chizuru meant what she said to Mami or she’s a really good actress. When Chizuru came back to the apartment complex, Kazuya met her outside and thanked her for what she said to Mami followed by a confession.

Ah yes, a confession of love! As the credits roll, we see flashbacks of the past 12 episodes and end the series on a cute note and a possible opening to an OVA and we can end from…

Oh wait, there’s more!

Kazuya says he wants Chizuru to continue being his rental girlfriend. Because he knows she’s planning on quitting the rental girlfriend business! So he smooths that over! Both played this off with a wary poker face, but behind closed doors, they are sweating bullets.

OH, and season two has been green-lit. Fabulous!

This anime was addicting to watch. I don’t know if it was as addicting as Uzaki-chan. Then again, I picked to watch Rent-a-Girlfriend over Uzaki-chan. But this was an addicting train-wreck! Watching this dumbass try to fool his family and friends that he really was able to get a cute girlfriend for a full year! How the hell could anyone fall for that mess? People still watched this dumpster fire of a relationship right, so why bitch about the stupidity of Simpy McSimperson over here? I am glad we’re getting a second season because we really didn’t get a chance to see much of Sumi. I know she’s no contender when you put her next to the great Chizuru, but good golly, give this girl some screentime aside from the one episode she got. They made her seem like she was going to be a big player in this anime, but only getting a bit role. I also want to see if Mami is going to redeem herself from the cunt we saw since 18 seconds into the series. I seriously doubt it, but it just gives me more reason to cuss at the computer, calling her every horrible name in the book. And as for Ruka…there’s nothing to say. She’s just gonna be second best no matter what the fuck happens.

As addicting as this anime was, I can’t ignore how many times I had to facepalm at every, stupid action done by Kazuya. I mean, several times per episode, butt-for-brains does something stupid that makes us say, “Dude, WTF” or “Bruh”. Lying to your family, lying to your friends, giving a bad review to your rental girlfriend for giving you great service, jacking it to your ex when you’re clearly hot for Chizuru, following a guy around because he spends the day with Chizuru, and it just goes on and on! You want to root for this twerp in hopes he gets the girl of his dreams in the end, but at the same time, you’re like, “This guy is a total dink.”

Oh, let’s see what season two has to offer…whenever that comes.

In the meantime, if you’d like to check out Rent-A-Girlfriend, Crunchyroll has all 12 episodes available in both sub and dub.

#anime review #rent a girlfriend #kanojo okarishimasu #kazuya kinoshita #chizuru ichinose #mami nanami #ruka sarashina #sumi sakurasawa

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eeveedel · 5 years ago

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chubby actor louis (part 3)

hello, lovely people! we have yet another installment, and there’s lots of debauchery in this lil update. includes: weight talk, body image talk, bondage, dom/sub dynamics, stuffing, weight gain kink, and lots and lots of food. I hope you enjoy. mwah!

part 1 I part 2

Bacon, eggs with cheese, and a large coffee with cream and sugar started each of Louis’s days.

He slept in every day, and woke up to his breakfast on a tray next to him. Sometimes there were additions of some changes; sausages instead of bacon, scrambled eggs instead of fried, chocolate chip muffins instead of toast. But his food was always waiting for him, and usually, Harry was, too.

Harry worked out in the mornings, so he was usually sweaty, pink-cheeked, and shirtless, sitting next to Louis in bed when he woke up.

“Morning, sunshine,” Harry greeted him with a kiss, “Are you hungry?”

That was also a now-constant in Louis’s life. Harry always asking if he was hungry, if he needed a snack, if he wanted to try something Harry had been whipping up. And unless he was already painfully full, Louis usually said yes.

He pulled himself up, fluffing pillows behind him so he could sit up and eat his breakfast, the food on his many plates slowly disappearing until he just had empty dishes and a full belly.

He slouched back, lazily sipping his coffee while Harry showered him in his usually string of compliments.

“Look at your cheeks, sweetheart,” Harry hummed as he cradled Louis’s face, “They’re so round! You look so pretty.”

This is why they worked well together, Louis thought through his post-meal haze. He was a goal orientated person, always ploughing forward to the next task. But Harry took in details, observed both the beauty and flaws in everything, although he was so sweet he usually wanted to notice the former. He was the one who would sit back and soak in the little things, notice the changes in everything.

“I know,” Louis sighed, reaching up to touch his puffy cheeks. He folded his hands down a moment later, running his hands down his stomach and rucking up the edge of his shirt.

“But Harry, look at this,” Louis groaned, prodding at the spot under his belly button. “I have a stretch mark! Look!”

“I see it, honey,” Harry said with an easy smile.

“I have a fucking stretch mark,” Louis moaned, “I’m going to have it forever. I’m going to have to use those lotions pregnant women use. Oh my god, Harry.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Harry sighed, giving him a kiss, “I think it’s cute.”

“Of course you do.”

“What? I do. It just means you’re bursting with the love I’m giving you,” Harry said, “Twenty-three pounds of lovin’ in this belly.”

He gave Louis a little pat on his stomach, and Louis felt the morning tension and grumpiness unspool from his body. He sighed and leaned over, giving Harry a kiss as he placed his hand next to Harry’s on his own midsection.

“Well don’t give yourself too much credit, I did most of the work,” Louis huffed, “You can take more credit when you contribute seven more pounds.”

Harry offered him a wolfish grin, and kissed him hard on the cheek.

“Deal.”

Louis couldn’t remember a time he had looked forward to eating this much.

He vaguely remembered a time – now only about a month and a half ago – that he had eaten kale salads with salmon on top and mixed grains for dinner and washed it down with kombucha, where he had told himself that it was worth it for all the vitamins and nutrients and the bragging rights he would have amongst his industry friends for how had the most restrictive diet, but he had never been happy before, during, or after those meals. And he also remembered when he had started preparing for this role, where the thrill of eating to his heart’s desire was quickly chased with anxiety over his softening waistline, the voice in his head that said he was doing the worst thing in the world.

But those voices were gone now. There was just his tongue that craved things, and then his boyfriend that inevitable placed that craving into Louis’s hands within the hour. Poutine, with thick homemade fries, doused in orange curls of cheese and thick gravy, curly ramen noodles with eggs on top and tender pieces of beef soaked in salty broth, homemade banana bread slathered in Nutella. Before bed, ice cream with gobs of cookie dough, brownies with caramel drizzled on top, peach pie with whipped cream. If he was thirsty he was presented with ice cold glasses of grape or cherry soda, vanilla milkshakes, or homemade Frappuccinos.

He ended every day with a tight, gurgling belly, which Harry would happily rub, and in the morning, his boyfriend’s careful eyes and observant eyes put him on the scale and measured every inch of his body.

Three more pounds crept up on Louis’s frame, bringing with it the usual praise from Harry and also more and more of the minute details Louis was noticing more and more. His cheeks pressed hard up into his eyes when he smiled, and he barely had to look down or speak for the double fold under his chin to be noticeable. His biceps had softened and he soft bit of arm jiggled under each arm when he waved. He had to rock a little to get himself going before he got up from the couch, and he caught him breathing a bit harder at the top of their main staircase. More red marks appeared on his hips, stomach, and legs, and his thighs rubbed together hard when he walked through the house. Harry bought him some special powder to slap on his thighs and also a large pair of bike shorts to help the chaffing, but when Louis forgot either of them, he widened his stance a bit into a small, awkward waddle. Once Harry caught him doing it and pinned him against the nearest wall for a mid-afternoon quickie.

Harry told him things that would have scared Louis, once – “You’re going to have to go up another pant size soon” and “You know you’re overweight for your height now” and “You’re really fucking out of shape” – but he said them in a deep, raspy voice that turned those statements into the highest of praise.

Louis knew the impact his body had on his boyfriend, and he carried that with pride.

One evening, Louis half-waddled into the kitchen, delicately holding a hand on top of the curve of his stomach, and saw Harry shirtless, standing at the counter and tossing a salad. Harry turned when he saw Louis, his smile bright.

“Hey, you.”

“Can I have a snack?” Louis said, blushing a little. His stomach was just starting to gurgle again, even though after lunch he had had a whole package of sugary dried fruit.

“You’re in luck, I was about to call you for dinner,” Harry said, “Come see.”

Louis followed Harry into the dining room, his eyes widening when he got there. Harry had apparently chosen a theme of Italian and carbs for the evening, because their dining table had two big pans of lasagna, one filled with beef and marinara sauce and one with layers of cheese and a thick white vodka sauce. There was a big loaf of garlic bread nestled in a wad of aluminum foil, and a small tray with two chocolate lava cakes.

“Oh, fuck,” Louis whispered, moving past Harry to look at the food more closely. He leaned forward, the shelf of his belly pressing gently into the edge of the table, and reached towards the tail end of the garlic bread loaf. It was still a little far away, so he leaned further forward, his ass sticking out further behind him and his stomach harder into the table in a way that made him exhale hard.

Louis tore off a piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth, and then he looked behind him and saw Harry, his eyes dark, a slight smirk on his face as he leaned on the divider of their kitchen. Louis chewed the bread and swallowed quickly.

“What, babe?” Louis asked, his voice already dropping a bit.

“Just enjoying the view,” Harry offered, the side of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah?” Louis asked. He batted his lashes and leaned further over the table. The pair of briefs he had grabbed were too small, and he could feel them wedging into his ass, showing off more of his cheeks. He bounced a little on his toes, feeling the way it made his behind jiggle, and then he reached a hand behind him, smacking his own cheek. “You like this fat ass, baby?”

“God, fuck,” Harry breathed out. He pushed away from the kitchen and came closer, grabbing Louis around the hips. He shoved himself forward, his jeans grinding roughly against Louis’s ass, and Louis gasped. He tried to stand and twist around to let Harry kiss him. He felt his sides fold into a thick roll, and just the feeling made him moan into Harry’s lips.

“You look so good,” Harry groaned as he pulled back, only to nip at Louis’s lip. “So sexy.”

He rubbed along Louis’s stomach, pressing gently into the softness, and Louis giggled.

“Thanks to you,” he said, “You keep me fat and happy, baby.”

“Mm,” Harry hummed, “You’re happy?”

The question seemed genuine, a little softer, and Louis pulled back.

“Yes,” he said firmly, “I am so, so happy.”

He set his hands on Harry’s shoulders, smoothing his hands along the hard, firm lines under his t-shirt.

“God, I don’t decided if I want to fuck you or have the food,” he groaned. “Can we have both?”

“I don’t want you to choke, honey.”

“Ugh, boring,” Louis moaned, “Always so worried for my safety.”

Harry was quiet, chewing on his lip, and then his eyes brightened.

“I have an idea,” Harry said, “If you don’t like it, we don’t do.”

“Okay,” Louis said slowly, “Tell me.”

“I get a pair of our handcuffs from the box upstairs,” Harry said, “Or rope. Or a scarf. Whatever you want. Tie you to a chair, feed you your dinner. And I’ll untie you when I think you’ve had enough.”

Louis felt a little thrill run through his belly at the idea, and his mouth dropped.

“Oh,” he exhaled, “I – okay.”

“Would you want to try that?” Harry asked. He was trying to keep his voice steady, but Louis could recognize Harry’s eagerness easily.

“Sure,” Louis said, “Sure, let’s do it, yeah.”

“Yeah,” Harry echoed. He took a step back and vaguely gestured behind him, “I’m gonna…get supplies upstairs. What do you want me to tie you with?”

“Um,” Louis said, “Rope?”

“Solid choice,” Harry agreed, “I’ll be right back.”

He seemed to sprint out of the room, and Louis heard him moving around rapidly upstairs, and then, his footsteps were going down the stairs, and soon, Harry was in front of him. He was carrying a soft length of bondage rope, thick and petal pink, and Louis smiled.

“Tell me what you need me to do,” Louis said gently.

“Sit,” Harry breathed out, his voice firm.

Louis pulled out a dining room chair and sat down, and Harry nodded.

“Scoot back, hands behind your hands…there you go.”

Harry moved behind Louis and crouched on the ground, and then tied the rope around Louis’s wrists, and then around the slats at the back of the chair, securing Louis to the chair. Harry put in a couple more ties, his hands sure and well-trained, and he gave them a tug, asking if they were too tight and adjusting the knots. Finally, he stood up and circled around Louis to go to the kitchen, and then returned a moment later with two big glasses of ice water. Then he grabbed his own chair, dragging it forward so he was sitting directly in front of Louis.

Louis watched carefully as Harry picked up a piece of garlic bread, dripping in bright yellow butter. Louis licked his lips and locked his eyes with Harry, his head already growing fuzzy.

Harry pushed his hand forward, holding the bread right next to Louis’s lips.

“Eat,” he said softly.

Louis opened his mouth gladly and bit into the bread, moaning immediately at the taste. He ate happily, swallowed down what Harry gave him and then licking his boyfriend’s buttery, crumb-covered fingers when he was done. Harry reached for another piece of bread and offered it to Louis, smiling as he swallowed it down. Another piece of bread appeared after that, bigger than the first two, and Louis once again ate it quickly, making Harry’s smile grow.

“Good boy,” Harry nodded. He paused just to wipe his hand with a napkin and to pick up Louis’s water, commanding him to take a big sip.

Next Harry dragged forward a tray of lasagna, the one filled with meat and red sauce. He retrieved a big serving spoon and took a hunk out of the corner of the dish, then held it in front of Louis. He ate, just like he was told, his tongue savoring the soft pasta, the rich sauce, the greasy cheese. He moaned happily and ate from Harry’s spoon, then eating another spoonful afterwards. Harry pet his hair and cooed, picking up more and more for Louis to eat, until there was a big space in the lasagna pan where they used to be food.

Louis’s stomach felt warm and happy, and he wiggled a little when Harry switched to the other pan, how giving him a taste of sharp-tasting vodka sauce that made his tongue tingle.

“So good, baby,” Louis moaned as he ate. He felt some sauce drip onto his chin and Harry didn’t go to clean it up.

“Thank you,” Harry smiled, picking up another spoonful, “Only the best for my boy.”

Louis closed his eyes and kept eating, his mind a haze of cheese and pasta. He only frowned when he felt how tight his stomach was getting. He blinked, looking down. He could his belly was sticking out, perfect round, and he looked up at Harry.

“I’m a little full…” he said, but Harry just blinked at him and dug up another spoonful of lasagna.

“You stop when I tell you to stop,” Harry said simply, “Open your mouth.”

Louis blinked, and then opened his mouth and did what he was told. When he was done with the spoonful Harry smiled and reached out, smacking the side of Louis’s belly and giving it a little jiggle.

“Good boy,” he praised.

Harry’s hand was steady, doling out more pasta, and then more bread, all with little sips of water. Louis took deep breaths, pulling a little at his constraints to get comfortable. His stomach was tighter and heavy, and he opened his legs a bit to give his stomach room. He felt it sag, he felt the elastic of his underwear starting to curl at the top, helpless to the weight of his middle.

“Such a perfect boy,” Harry said, “Eating so well for me. Making me so happy.”

Louis nodded, and opened his mouth at Harry’s next command. More bread. More butter. More calories that would go straight to his thighs and belly and ass. Or maybe his double chin, or his fat arms. It didn’t matter.

His eyes drooped as he ate, and he felt grease and sauce accumulate on his face and chin. His mouth opened less eagerly, but he still ate. He let out a little burp at one point, and blushed, but Harry just patted his gut and gave it a jiggle, telling him it was okay.

“One more bite,” Harry said, holding out more lasagna, “And then dessert.”

Dessert? Jesus fucking Christ. But Louis opened his mouth nonetheless and ate the lasagna.

As soon as he had swallowed, Harry fetched a clean fork and the two lava cakes, holding him out.

“These are for you,” Harry grinned, “Both of them.”

“Both?” Louis asked,

“Try for me,” Harry said, “Come on.”

He gave Louis more water, and then gave his belly a firm jiggle, and then, there was a forkful of chocolate in front of Louis.

His belly said no. But chocolate sounded so good. And Harry was giving him a look where no was not an option.

So Louis sagged forward and welcomed the cake into his mouth.

His brain was floating elsewhere, his mouth was full of chocolate, and Harry was still staring at him, coaxing the food between his lips.

Louis moaned as he finished one lava cake and then another one floated in front of his face. His mouth opened without thought, a robotoic motion of open-close-chew-swallow.

He barely realized the last bite was gone until Harry was kissing him, one hand cradling Louis’s full, tender stomach.

“Oh, good fucking boy,” Harry breathed, “God, look at you.”

Louis could only imagine what Harry was seeing; Louis exhausted, sweating, red-faced, his face covered in food and his soft body spilling out of his briefs. Harry started to clean him, rubbing a napkin on his face, getting some water into his system, and then he untied Louis’s wrists, letting him lean forward and cradle his stomach. The skin was tight and hot under his hands, and he moaned. Harry coaxed him to his feet, and Louis widened his legs, cradling his belly and waddling to the living room, until he could collapse on the couch.

Harry sat by his hip, rubbing his stomach, soothing the aching skin and giving Louis kisses on his face and wrists as he came down from his high. His stomach was screaming, but his head was happy. He was Harry’s good boy, happy and fat, always doing what he was told. That was enough.

As Louis became more lucid, Harry grew a bit quiet, still touching Louis carefully but not offering many words. Eventually, his voice came, quiet and uncertain.

“Louis,” Harry said softly, “Are you really happy?”

“Hm?” Louis lifted his head and looked at his boyfriend, who was looking at him so gently.

“Are you happy like this?” Harry asked, “Like you said earlier?”

He kept drawing circles around Louis’s belly button, but Louis still would’ve understood his question.

“Honestly, I think…I think this is the happiest I’ve been in a while,” Louis admitted.

His skin flushed as he said it, but he was smiling.

“I don’t have to get up early to do work outs I don’t even enjoy and eat food I hate, just for a body I’ll never feel good enough in,” he said. The words were rushed, but he meant them.

“I don’t know if I was happy like that, when we were the fucking ‘fittest couple in Hollywood,’” Louis confessed, “I mean, that was your thing, and I just did it because it was expected of me.”

He blushed, reaching down to squeeze his belly.

“But I feel so…so happy like this. In this body, with you, doing this,” he said, “Like I’m enough.”

Harry nodded, his face soft and content.

“I always had the feeling you didn’t like working out that much,” Harry said, “I mean, you did it, but I always had the feeling you wanted to do anything else.”

“Yeah,” Louis said softly, “And I hated half the food I used to eat. I guess some of it was alright. But I just felt like I had no choice.”

“Well know you can do whatever you want,” Harry said, “Although I will say, I kind of miss you when I work out. I miss having you there with me.”

“Maybe I can hang out with you while you’re lifting? Or on the treadmill?” Louis offered, “I can have a snack and talk to you while you do that.”

“I would really like that,” Harry agreed.

He reached down again to pet Louis’s belly, and Louis looked down at himself, a little lump growing in his throat.

“I’m going to have to lose this eventually,” Louis said sadly, “For my job.”

“Hey,” Harry said softly, cuffing Louis under the chin. “We have four pounds to go, honey.”

He gave him a kiss, holding his lips tight on Louis’s cheek before he pulled away.

“And I plan to make them count.”

Ideas sprouted in Harry’s head like weeds in the middle of spring.

For the next few days, he scaled back some of Louis’s meals. Still giving him everything he wanted, just a little less. A dozen buffalo wings instead of eighteen, four red velvet cupcakes instead of six, two calzones but no cinnamon sticks to go with them. Louis questioned him, a little frown forming at each of the meals.

“I’m planning something,” Harry teased him, “Be patient.”

And then one morning Louis woke up to no breakfast platter, and instead, Harry was just sitting next to him, a giant smile on his face.

“Wear something tight for me today,” Harry said, and then got up and disappeared. And Louis realized this was the day, this was Harry’s planning was paying off. And Louis was eager to mind out what it entailed.

Louis went to their closet, rifling the section that had become his out-grown clothes. He hated wearing tight clothes, he preferred his sweatpants and pajamas now above anything else, but if Harry wanted, he could deliver.

He selected a white button-down shirt and a pair of dark jeans, and started the process of doing them up. It was easier said than done, they had been new purchases when he and Harry had visited the mall, but they were already tight. All the buttons on his shirt did up, but the buttons were tight and the fabric stretched taunt on his frame, not hiding a thing. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and unbuttoned the first few buttons of the shirt, something that used to show off his delicate wrists and sharp collarbones that had since thickened and softened. He yanked on the jeans, which were snug against his thighs and ass, and he had to suck in to button them and then pull the curve of his stomach out of the waistband, letting it flop over top of his pants and pushing hard against his shirt.

He knew he wasn’t that big, but in this outfit, he felt massive, and it sent a little thrill through him, especially knowing how much Harry would love to see it, too.

He made his way down the stairs, breathing a bit hard at how the buttons cut into him. Harry was waiting for him in the doorway of the kitchen, and he waved his hand towards the breakfast nook, signaling for Louis to sit.

“You look gorgeous,” Harry smiled, “And I like the white shirt, too. You’ll probably get messy today. But maybe that’s good.”

Louis smiled, his stomach fluttering a bit.

“So what are you making me today?”

“Well, just one thing, actually,” Harry said.

Louis’s heart sank a bit. One thing, for the whole day? And then Harry disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a platter holding an enormous cheesecake almost completely covered in Oreos, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream. He placed it in front of Louis with reverence, staring at it for a long moment before turning to Louis.

“I spent all last night making this,” Harry beamed, “It’s around twenty thousand calories.”

The two statements hit Louis one after the other, and he blinked.

“Oh,” Louis stammered, “Oh, wow.”

“Yep!” Harry chirped, “And you’re gonna eat it today.”

He kissed Louis’s temple as the other man just stared at the platter, open mouthed.

“Gonna get you a fork,” Harry said, “Are you hungry?”

“I, yeah,” Louis managed.

“Of course you are,” Harry said, “My baby’s always hungry.”

He disappeared once more, and he returned with a fork. He pressed it into Louis’s hand, and then kissed the top of his head.

“Eat up, gorgeous.”

Louis nodded, staring at the feat in front of him. He wasn’t tied up, like he had been the night of the lasagna, but he felt just as much under Harry’s control.

He took a breath, feeling the press of the buttons into his abdomen. He had all day. He could do this. He would do this.

He reached his fork forward, picking up a bite of the cheesecake and placing it on his tongue. It was delicious, as always, so sweet it made his teeth sing, incredibly soft, and rich enough that he could taste the butter.

He easily ate through a full slice, and then another after that. He loved sweets for breakfast, and Harry had trained him for such indulgences with Belgian waffles and chocolate muffins presented to him quite literally on a silver platter. He even managed to polish off another slice, and Harry praised him with a kiss and a hug.

And so, for the rest of the day, the cheesecake was Louis’s constant companion. Anytime he felt the smallest bit of emptiness in his belly, he was back at the table with his fork, digging into the layers of cookies and frosting, picking away at the mammoth plate. Usually Harry worked up in his studio, but he seemed to be lingering around a lot more, either on his laptop or engrossed in his sketchbook, but still taking time to look up at Louis as he ate.

At lunchtime, a third of the cake was gone and Louis’s buttons were so tight he was gasping. He shoved cake into his mouth and then moved to undo his shirt, but Harry’s voice halted him.

“Leave that,” he said firmly, and Louis’s hand dropped immediately. He went back to his cake, sugar-buzzed and obedient.

He returned only an hour and a half later, eager for a few more bites. He didn’t realize until now how much hungrier he was throughout the day, his body trained for constant snacks. He sat down and picked up his fork, Harry sitting nearby watching.

He only had to reach forward a little before he heard a rip and felt pressure release on his stomach.

Louis blinked and looked down and saw there was a very apparent rip in his shirt, right over his stomach. There was also a bit of a gap at the side seam, and when he shifted, the rip widened. He looked up at Harry, his mouth opened, and his boyfriend’s eyes were dark.

“Eat your cake,” he said, his voice deep, and Louis reached for the fork without question.

As he moved around the house, the gaps in his shirt grew, the rips audible and showing more and more of his skin. He also saw how the white fabric was staining, smeared with chocolate and greasy bits of whipped cream. He would be embarrassed by it, but Harry kept giving him the most satisfying looks.

As dinner time approached, there was still a significant amount of cheesecake left, and Harry clucked his tongue.

“I worked so hard on this,” he said, “It better not go to waste.”

Louis’s fork found its way back to the plate.

Eventually, he decided not to leave the table. His brain was a swirl of black and white sugar, his body felt sluggish. There was a new rip under his right arm, and he had to keep breathing around the buttons, which were nothing short of painful now. He groaned as he took another bite, his body protesting, and he rocked forward a little, a hand cradling his stomach as he tried to sooth himself.

He heard the sound, a pop and then a high little ping on the ground, and then felt his stomach surge. Another pop. Another ping. He moaned, moving to the space where the two buttons had flown off, leaving his pale, soft belly exposed to the cool air.

He looked up at Harry and blinked, his vision blurring.

“I think the shirt’s too small,” he said, and then, his hand scrambled for the fork. More cake passed his lips. Harry groaned.

Louis couldn’t tell the difference between the next seconds to minutes to hours. It was all cake, all Harry’s gaze, all the feeling of his shirt ripping, unable to contain his form. His mouth and hand moved on their own in rhythm, working towards the goal as his other hand rubbed his stomach.

Eventually he blinked and rocked forward, and he felt the thick button on his jeans break, hurtling towards the ground. Louis hiccupped and adjusted his hips, his stomach pushing down the zipper of his pants.

He felt Harry’s hand on his belly and he leaned back, accepting a kiss on the head. He hadn’t even known Harry was there. He was too sugar drunk to know anything.

“I’m gonna pop,” he heard himself moan, and Harry soothed him.

“But you just have a little more,” Harry said carefully, “Please. Come on. Make me proud.”

Make Harry proud.

Louis’s mouth lolled open and stayed at way. A hand that wasn’t his fed him, rubbed his belly, slipped his fingers under Louis’s ripped shirt.

“Good. Good. Perfect,” Harry coaxed, “Just a little more now.”

Louis barely heard Harry when he was done. He collapsed on the table, panting, his shirt ripping even more. He thought he felt a rip along his inner thigh, but he didn’t know. He felt Harry’s hands lifting him up, guiding him to the sofa, offering him water.

“Never make me do that again,” Louis wheezed, and he heard Harry laugh.

“Once is all I wanted,” he heard his proud, proud boyfriend say, “And God, were you absolutely spectacular.”

Louis expected a bit more pomp and circumstance, in all honesty.

It still the morning, although Louis had slept in so it was closer to midday. Harry had to shake him awake and Louis immediately groaned and yanked the blankets over his head.

“Not now,” he huffed.

“Up and at ‘em,” Harry said gently, “Come on, honey. Scale.”

“I’m hungry,” Louis protested.

“I know, honey,” Harry sighed, “But we gotta weigh you first.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“If we weigh you after you eat, it might not be accurate,” Harry said, “Come on. I’ll make you whatever you want.”

Louis considered resisting a bit longer, but he could hear the eagerness in Harry’s voice. It was his favorite thing, to see the numbers under Louis’s feet rise.

So Louis rolled out of bed and followed Harry to the bathroom. At Harry’s instruction he stepped up on the scale, not even looking down to read it. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned, blinking weakly as he tried to wake up. The scale beeped under him, evening out, and he waited for Harry to read him the number like he always did.

But there wasn’t anything.

He turned to his side, seeing Harry was still, just staring down.

“Harry?” he asked, “What is it?”

Harry lifted his head, his smile brilliant.

“179.”

Louis blinked.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So…I’m…”

“You did it, babe,” Harry said, “Well, you went above and beyond, actually.”

“One pound isn’t above and beyond.”

“It is,” Harry insisted, “It is to me.”

He surged forward, wrapping his arms around Louis and giving him a squeeze that made Louis squeak.

“You’re perfect,” Harry breathed out, “Absolutely perfect.”

Louis could only stare down at the number below him, the reality catching up to him.

He had gained thirty-one pounds. He was out of breath, hungry, and covered in stretch marks.

And he had never felt better about himself in his entire life.

After a moment, he stepped down, and let himself be fully hugged by Harry, snuggling into his chest.

“God, wow,” Harry said again, “I’m – I can’t believe this.”

“I know, right?” Louis sighed, “And hey, you helped with the last sixteen. So you can officially claim most of the credit.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head.

“I mean, I’m kind of…sad that it’s over, to be honest,” Harry said, “This has been so fun.”

“Well,” Louis drawled slowly, “I have a whole movie to shoot. Gonna have to keep this up for awhile.”

He patted his stomach and watched how he jiggled.

“You up for helping me with that?” Louis asked, “Can’t get skinny now.”

Harry’s mouth twitched, and he gave Louis a long look before grinning once more.

“I think I would be interested.”

#drabbles #larry fanfiction #larry fan fic #larry fanfic #chubby actor

42 notes · View notes

remedialpotions · 6 years ago

Note

Oh number 6 please! You do angsty stuff the best! Maybe something with the war? After it? During it? Whatever you go with for the word will be fab anyway!

Thank you! This definitely got pretty angsty and more Ron-centric than Ron/Hermione but I hope you like it! 💕

***

hiraeth - a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

Ron was not exactly picky where he slept. He had never understood all the fuss over lush pillows and silky satin sheets; he had slept with the same Chudley Cannons blanket since the age of seven, and it had suited him just fine for ten years. He had also been perfectly happy to spend the night, for weeks on end, in a sleeping bag on the unyielding wooden floor of his brother’s cottage. He always sort of felt that when push came to shove, he could pretty much sleep anywhere.

But he couldn’t sleep here.

The Burrow was still standing, strictly speaking. There were signs of spell damage, charred streaks on the walls and overturned furniture, and all of the food in the scullery had gone rancid, but the bones of the house were still there; the thing had not toppled over completely. Strange, though, because it felt so cold when they all first stepped inside. Back in Scotland it had been uncharacteristically warm and sunny, verging on hot, even, but the Burrow had gone cold in a way it never had before.

So they’d all gotten back to the house, and Ron’s dad had briefly assessed the damage and then begun dutifully picking up the shards of shattered dishes on the floor - not for long, though, because Bill and Percy had exchanged a glance and then pushed him out of the way, insisting on tidying up themselves. Charlie had gone into the sitting room to heft the bookcase back into place. Ron’s mum and George were still back at Hogwarts, unwilling to leave Fred behind.

And Ron, flanked on either side by his two best friends - or rather, his best friend and his almost-girlfriend (he hoped, at least), had drank in the sight of his childhood home, hungrily, searching for something he could no longer find.

His parents weren’t messy or unclean people by any means - his mum was always bustling about, casting cleaning spells and sweeping the floors - but the Burrow had always been prone to clutter. It was inevitable in a house of that many people. Stacks of cookbooks always lined the windowsills and parchments boasting particularly impressive OWL results were plastered the cupboards and yet now, even though the Weasleys had likely not had time to pack up everything they treasured before their escape to Aunt Muriel’s, it seemed quite bare. Devoid of everything that had once given it personality and heart.

Ron had found his legs carrying him toward the stairs, which were coated in a thin, even layer of dust. Vaguely he realized that his hand and Hermione’s had locked together, and he didn’t know who had reached for whom. He also hadn’t thought it mattered.

The stairs had creaked and groaned under the weight of the three of them, the wood cracking and splintering. Doors on each landing were left ajar; Ginny’s bed was left unmade. All Ron wanted was his own bed, and the trip up to the top floor had never taken so long.

Finally, he had reached the landing. The little placard on the door reading Ronald’s Room was still there. It had been there for years and years, so long he had stopped noticing it, but he couldn’t remember now where it had even come from. He wouldn’t have made it himself; he hated being called Ronald. It seemed like something Percy would have done - labeling everyone’s stuff, everyone’s space, putting people in their place.

He wanted to rip it down.

“Oh, Ron,” said Hermione urgently as he reached for the doorknob, “maybe you should-“

But before he could really register her voice, he turned it, and he had barely pushed the door open an inch when an acrid smell like a moldy drain smacked him in the face. Stumbling back, he slammed the door shut again.

The ghoul. He’d forgotten about the bloody ghoul.

“Well,” stammered Harry, “we can just - like - put him back into the attic, can’t we? And do some charms for the smell?”

Ron shook his head, so many words fighting to escape his throat that none of them did. There was no way Harry could know - to him, the ghoul was just the thing that made noise in the attic whenever he came to stay - but it was not so easy to just banish it back to its original home. Dealing with the ghoul was the twins’ thing, it had taken both of them to accomplish the task of dressing it in pajamas in the first place. And now Fred was gone - Ron closed his eyes against the thought, he’d seen it but he still couldn’t believe it - and there was no quick and easy way to put things back how they’d been.

“Forget it,” said Ron, Hermione’s hand still in his as he moved to the stairs again. “I’ll just sleep on the sofa, it’s fine. I don’t care.”

But he had been lying on that same sofa for hours now, and he just couldn’t. He knew that if he would just do as Harry had done, and down a dose of Dreamless Sleep, that he might find some respite from the anxious whirring in his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead he let himself fidget, tossing and turning on a sofa that he had not remembered being so cramped and stiff and scanning the room to find just one solitary little thing that hadn’t changed.

The whole time they’d been out searching for Horcruxes, he had just wanted to come back home. Even after he’d pulled his head out of his arse and returned to them, he had missed it: his mum’s cooking, the petrified gnome atop the Christmas tree, the clucking of the chickens and the sweet scent of the apple orchard. And now he was back, and none of it was here. Fred was gone, and George was a mess and Mum was a mess and they were all messes and none of it was ever going to be how it was. Nine months ago, he had Apparated away from an ambush, and he hadn’t known then that he would never really return.

The stairs creaked again. Ron rolled over on the sofa, the soles of his feet crammed uncomfortably against the armrest, and then sat up. From inside the kitchen, something glowed - not a wavering, flickering glow from a lantern, but steady and bright like from a wand. Both out of curiosity and a concern that they there may still be Death Eaters at large, he pulled his wand out from under the cushion he was using for a pillow and padded cautiously into the kitchen.

It was not a Death Eater, just Hermione (not that she was just Hermione, she had not been just Hermione to him for years now), kneeling on the work surface with her lit wand held aloft and her head inside a cupboard. If he called out to her, he’d probably startle her and cause her to fall, so instead he approached until he suspected he was in her peripheral vision.

“What’re you doing up there?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

She started, a bit, then relaxed. “I couldn’t sleep,” she explained as she peered down at him. “I just thought I’d make tea.”

“Get down from there, I’ll get it.”

He set his hands on her hips to help her, and as her feet touched the floor, her eyes darted up to his, then away. He swallowed; Merlin, he wanted to kiss her again.

“Tea’s usually in here,” he said instead, opening the cupboard next to the one she had open, only to find it contained a glass jar of flour, some dried cherries (with fruit flies swarming in the air around them), and not one single tea bag. “Oh. Guess not.”

Likely they’d just run out in those tense final days before going into hiding. Or his mum had grabbed the last box of the earl grey on her way out the door - it had been her favorite, last time he’d been around enough to know things like that. Or maybe he was just remembering wrong. He reached up and opened another cabinet, but that one just had a big tub of uncooked porridge, and the next one was completely empty, so he dropped to his knees and checked under the sink, but there was just an empty jug of Mrs. Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover and a big pile of rags.

He slammed the door shut; his legs didn’t quite feel strong enough to stand. You’re just knackered, he told himself. You just need sleep.

Small, cool hands rested on his shoulders. “It’s fine,” said Hermione gently. “I don’t really need it. I’ll just make hot water and lemon-“

“The lemons‘ve probably all gone off by now,” he muttered.

“Honey, then. That lasts forever.”

Ron sat back on his heels and looked down resentfully at his shaking hands.

“I just want you to have what you want.”

She sat next to him, her arm slipping through his. “It’s really fine-“

“It’s not,” he said, his voice oddly strangled. “The tea used to always be in that one cupboard, all right? My parents have lived here for thirty years and nothing’s ever changed, I know that’s where they keep the bloody tea.”

Even as he spoke, the words flooding out of him before he could even hope to stop them, he knew he was wrong. The whole house had been constantly changing from the moment his dad had gotten the wild idea to turn an old pigpen into a home for actual human beings. They’d built room after room, one right on top of the other, with the birth of each child and Ron distinctly remembered, with a lump in his throat, the day his dad fire-proofed the twins’ room after they had set the carpet ablaze.

“Tomorrow,” said Hermione, and Ron craned his neck to look at her, thrown by this sudden shift, “we can get things sorted with the ghoul.”

“I’m not worried about the ghoul.”

“But he can’t stay there forever, can he?” she said reasonably.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.” She squeezed his hand, and he gripped her just as tightly back. “I promise you, we’ll get everything sorted in the morning. It’s - it’ll be all right.”

Their faces were already so close, she needed only to turn her head the slightest bit to brush her lips against his cheek. Her breath fell soft onto his skin as she pulled back, and he moved in to kiss her, as gently and lightly as he could. There didn’t seem to be any need to rush. There was time, now the war had ended, to figure out how to move forward.

He nodded. “Everything’ll be all right.”

#romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #rhr #my writing #obscure word prompts #this made me really sad #and I’m very sorry #don’t worry it’ll feel like home for him again #he’s just struggling right now

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laurenconraddaily · 5 years ago

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What Lauren Conrad Can’t Live Without

If you’re like us, you’ve probably wondered what famous people add to their carts. Not the JAR brooch and Louis XV chair but the hairspray and the electric toothbrush. We asked Lauren Conrad — whose brand, Lauren Conrad Beauty, launched this fall and just expanded to skin care — about the coffee maker, hair clip, and wine she can’t live without.

Kristin Ess Full Size French Pin Set $12

I’ve worked with Kristin since I was 20 — she’s amazing and her whole line is literally the only thing I use on my hair: her shampoo, conditioner, stylers, everything. My hair is pretty thick. After my first pregnancy, it all fell out. I’ve been able to hang on to a lot of it this time around, but it still has changed a lot. Kristin explained to me that the texture of your hair changes every seven years and it changes during pregnancy. So mine has become a bit thicker — I have a lot more hair than I did before — with more of a natural wave to it. I recently grew it long enough to really do a top knot again, and this French pin makes that so easy. It doesn’t cause breakage like an elastic can. I use it every single day. Even if I’m not wearing my hair up, when I get home at the end of a day, I twist it up when I walk in the door because I live with a one-year-old hair puller. I don’t even look in a mirror to do it.

$12 at Target Buy

Kinto 4 Cup Brewer Stand Set $188

The first thing I do every morning is make coffee at around 6:30. Years ago I had a Keurig in my kitchen, and when one of my husband’s best friends stayed with us, he very kindly said to me, “If I sent you more ecofriendly ideas for coffee, would you be open to them?” He got me thinking. The next weekend we were going up the coast for a wedding and we stopped in this small boutique, where I saw this little coffee maker. I was like, “Oh, this is so beautiful.” It doesn’t require anything, including filters. I got it and have used it ever since. There’s a whole process to it: I grind my own coffee, and in order to use this, you need a more coarsely ground coffee. Then I pour a bit of boiling water over it, let the coffee bloom for a minute, then pour the rest in and watch it make my coffee. It’s definitely more involved than a regular coffee maker or a Keurig, but I actually think it makes a nicer cup. It looks better on your counter, too, and best of all, it’s a little nicer to the Earth. Mine has held up for a few years. We did have to replace one piece because my husband dropped it while washing it, but other than that, it has really lasted.

$188 at Huckberry Buy

Kirkland Signature Organic Virgin Coconut Oil $16

I love this one from Costco because it’s a really good value. I do use it to cook, but I mainly use it for baths. At the end of the day, after we put the boys down, I try to take a 20-minute bath. It’s my end-of-the-day thing — I usually have a glass of wine in there, too. And I always put a bit of coconut oil in the bath while it’s running. The last thing I want to do is apply moisturizer after a bath because I’m so relaxed and tired, so putting coconut oil in there keeps my skin nice and hydrated.

$16 at Costco Buy

$23 at Amazon Buy

Health-Ade Pink Lady Apple Kombucha (6-Pack) $30

Instead of having a coffee in the afternoon, I’ve switched to having kombucha. It’s better for digestion and whatnot. I have a fridge stocked with kombucha, that’s how much I drink it. I treat kombucha almost like I would beer — I have my go-tos, but I like trying different ones, and I always come back to my favorites. This is one of them. I found it at my local grocery store. It’s sort of a middle-of-the-road one in terms of sweetness, for when I don’t want anything too sugary. It’s tasty. If I don’t want to try something new, I go for this because I know I’ll enjoy it.

$30 at Health-Ade Buy

Philips Avance XL Air Fryer $300

I mainly use it to reheat things. For example, if I’m making a batch of waffles, I’ll freeze the extras, then pop one in when I want it. The air fryer defrosts and crisps it up. It also brings leftover fries back to life, which is honestly enough of a reason to own one. This model is the newer version of mine, because when I went to look up mine, I only found used ones on eBay. I guess I’ve really had it for a minute. But mine is still working well, I don’t have a reason to replace it. I got it about two years ago when I was pregnant. Some woman at a talk about how to healthily feed small children said we all needed to get an air fryer because it makes things so easy. Recently I did a Zoom wine date with one of my good friends and she texted me that she was running late; she was like, “I just finally unwrapped my air fryer from Christmas.” I responded with a short novel about my air fryer, outlining everything she needs to do and try. I’m obsessed with it.

$300 at QVC Buy

Sweet Laurel: Recipes for Whole Food, Grain-Free Desserts $28 now 25% off $21

Our whole family is dairy-free. We have been for years. My oldest son is actually lactose-intolerant, but we’ve all struggled with dairy, so we just cut it out of our diet. Cutting out dairy is pretty easy, but it becomes a challenge with baking. Sweet Laurel’s recipes are all dairy-free; she’s also grain-free, so it’s all almond flour. The main ingredients she uses are almond flour, maple syrup, and Himalayan salt. All of her recipes are really easy, too — I pull out cookbooks for dessert a lot, but sometimes recipes have so many steps that I get overwhelmed. The last thing I made from here was a strawberry cake for my son’s birthday. I handed him the book, told him to pick what he wanted, and he chose that. It was dyed pink with beets. You don’t taste them, they just made the whole cake pink.

$21 at Amazon Buy

Juice Beauty Green Apple Peel Full Strength Exfoliating Mask $48

I love a mask that gives me instant results. I don’t have very sensitive skin, but when I take this off, my face is bright red. It does burn a little, but I don’t mind. I really feel like it’s working. I only use it once a week — I do it at night and the next morning I wake up and my skin feels great. It’s a nice refresher and takes away that dull feeling I can get. I’m trying to do as much as I can at home — I haven’t been able to get facials or see any specialist — and this is the closest I’ve gotten so far to instant results.

$48 at Dermstore Buy

$48 at Ulta Beauty Buy

Eden Brothers Organic Roma Tomato Seeds $4

We started gardening this year as a way to pass the time. I’ve gotten really into it. I mean, it’s definitely taking over our yard, which is pretty small, but it’s really fun and strangely rewarding. When I went to buy seeds, Eden Brothers had the best selection. We’re growing green beans, tomatillos, raspberries, blackberries, onions, lots of tomatoes — cherry, heirloom, and Roma tomatoes — corn, and pumpkins. Oh, and lots of herbs and stuff, too. We harvested our first corn not long ago. It was weird. The flavor was good, but I don’t know, I’m still learning. I think it maybe was overwatered. I thought gardening would be simple — it’s not, but it has been a really fun hobby. I’m sure I’ll get better with time. My 3-year-old son goes out with me every morning to check the garden. He’s way more inclined to eat something off the vine than he is off a dinner plate. And I love that he gets to see where food comes from at a young age.

$4 at Eden Brothers Buy

Avaline White Blend $20

When I heard about this wine, I was really curious. Katherine Power, one of the founders, is always coming out with different brands and she always does such a nice job with her launches. I don’t like when wine is too sweet or fruity, and I prefer organic wine — if it isn’t organic, I tend to get a headache. This one tastes amazing and has beautiful packaging. I like their white wine best; I actually just ordered a whole case.

$20 at Wine.com Buy

Lauren Conrad Beauty The Lip & Cheek Tint $20

My first pregnancy, which was four years ago, was honestly the first time when I was aware of what I was putting on my body and the effects those products could have. I transitioned all my products to clean and vegan, but I hated feeling like I had to compromise — I wanted clean lipsticks with staying power that had really great pigment and felt good. One of the reasons why I came out with my brand now, as opposed to a few years ago, is because I decided if I’m going to do a beauty line, I want to do it correctly. Everyone involved with my line really stays informed on ingredients and the market, so we can create products you can feel good about using. A multitasker is our target customer because I’m one myself. This tint is one of my favorite products for that reason. I use it every day throughout the day. It’s something you can apply to a bare base, you can layer it over light makeup and build it up. It’s about whatever works for you.

$20 at Lauren Conrad Beauty Buy

#lauren conrad #favorites #shop #2020

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365daysofsasuhina · 6 years ago

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Twenty-Seven: Miniature ___ ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

If there’s one thing Hinata is a fan of...it’s tiny things. She isn’t even really sure why...she just likes them. Always has. When she was little, she collected the miniature versions of Beanie Babies. Polly Pocket was one of her favorite toys, along with any teeny models of anything she could get her hands on. Little figurines, small animals, tiny dollhouses...the smaller, the better.

Even her handwriting is small. Neat and curvy, she even dots her i’s and j’s with tiny little hearts. During her doodling phase, there would be tiny little drawings along the sides of her assignments and notebooks. Then she got into things like knitting and crochet, and took to creating smaller and smaller versions of the projects she would find in books or online.

Even her height caps out relatively short in high school. By the time she’s a senior, she’s still only five feet four inches. Of course, she also has a rather curvy build, but that doesn’t bother her at all. She’s the shortest of her friend group, and earns herself the nickname pixie.

She loves it.

“So...what are we making today?”

“Huh?” Looking up from the cookbook she’s skimming through, Hinata gives a small start. She...sort of forgot she was in Home Ec class...whoops. They have a bit of a free day, and as always that means cooking with Sasuke. But though she’d started reading with the intention of finding something to make, she got a little...lost. A bit of a daydreamer, her focus isn’t always the best. A sheepish smile pulls at her lips. “Um...I dunno yet. You wanna pick?”

“Eh, I’m no good at it.”

Lips pursing thoughtfully, she absently flips through a few more pages before perking up. “Ooh...what about this?”

“Hm?” Glancing over, Sasuke grimaces just a hair: it’s a dessert. He still doesn’t like sweet things all that much.

“What?”

“Brownies?”

“Mhm! See, they’re supposed to be like, um...s’mores!” She turns the book to him, letting him see the picture right side up. “You make a graham cracker crust first, in the bottom of the pan. Then you make the brownies on top! Once those are done, you put a whole bunch of miniature marshmallows along the top, and broil them so they get browned. Doesn’t it look good?”

“Eh, I guess.”

Hinata gives a pout. “I still can’t believe you don’t like s-sweets.”

“They’re okay, I guess. It’s just easy for something to be too sweet, y’know?”

“No such thing!”

“Says you.”

“Well...we’ll make something savory next time,” she promises, turning the book back around. “I just...really want to use the marshmallows…”

“Oh yeah?”

“They’re so cute and tiny!” Hinata brings hands to her cheeks, smiling and going a bit pink. “Don’t you think?”

That earns a small snort of amusement. “Never really thought of food as cute before, no. But uh...I guess?”

“They are! Fluffy and soft and small…”

A grin softly curls Sasuke’s lips. The more he gets to know Hinata, the more he learns about her little quips and quirks. And so far, they all add up to a sweet, soft girl. Much like the marshmallows she’s so excited about. “All right, you win. They’re cute.” Like you.

...he...he did not just think that.

Jolting a bit as he realizes the thought, it thankfully goes unnoticed as Hinata turns to start gathering ingredients. Gripping over his mouth with a hand, he takes the opportunity to fight back a flustered flush. Darn this girl…!

“So, do you want to make the crust?”

“W-? Huh?”

“The graham cracker crust! It’s super easy,” she assures him, smiling. “You just need to melt some butter, and crush the graham crackers, mix them together...a-and press them in the pan to bake!”

“...sure.” Schooling his expression back to neutral, Sasuke does as asked, referencing the book as he goes. At least she has one thing right, it’s pretty straight forward. Using a ziplock bag, he smooshes the crackers with a rolling pin before mixing them into the butter. It actually...smells pretty good.

All the while, Hinata works on the brownie batter, humming idly to herself. Every so often, Sasuke gives her a glance from the corner of her eye, watching her go. A lot about her reminds him of his mother. Whenever she’s in the kitchen, she gets just as jovial, no matter what she’s making. It’s so boringly domestic, and yet...something about it brings a subconscious smile to his face.

“Ready to put it in the oven?”

“O-oh, uh...yeah.” Hurriedly getting it all packed into place, Sasuke puts the pan in, setting a timer.

“Okay, once that’s done we can do the brownies, and then the marshmallows!”

“So...we have marshmallows?”

“Mhm, right here.” Hinata shows the bag, which is...open. At his perked brow, she goes a little pink. “I...might’ve eaten one. Just to see if they were s-stale!”

“...and?”

“And, um...they’re fine!” She takes out another, squishing it between a thumb and forefinger with a giggle. “Nice and soft!”

Amused, Sasuke takes one as well, giving it a squish before popping it in his mouth. Almost immediately, he cringes at the pure sugary taste.

“W...what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, forcing himself to swallow. “It’s just, guh...sweet.”

“You’d never survive a week at my house, I’ve always got sweets around,” Hinata laughs, indulging in another marshmallow.

“I dunno how you stand it. It’s just...too much.”

“Well, the taste changes a lot once they’ve been broiled, and along with the brownie and the cracker crust. Maybe that’ll be more your style?”

“Maybe.”

The timer dings, and once Sasuke fetches the pan, Hinata carefully spoons out the batter, smoothing it with a spatula and ensuring it’s nice and flat, with no splatters on the side. “There we go…!”

Then...more waiting.

“Here, you pick something for next time, okay?”

“Uh…” Accepting the book, Sasuke starts idly flipping through the pages. In truth, there’s...not a lot in here that isn’t sweet. “Maybe we need something other than baking, huh?”

Hinata blinks. “...you...probably have a point.” She moves to the little bookcase of cookbooks. “Anything look promising to you?”

He has no idea. Picking one at random, he flips a few pages before coming to a halt, eyes going a little wide. “...that one.”

Looking over his shoulder, Hinata brightens. “Baked Parmesan tomatoes…?” They look really easy to make. “...do you like tomatoes?”

“Yeah, they’re one of my favorite foods.”

“Ooh, aren’t there cherry tomatoes…? The little ones?”

At that, Sasuke gives her a glance. First miniature marshmallows, now little tomatoes? “...you have a thing for small stuff?”

The accusation makes her go pink again. “Well, I...s-sorta. I just think small stuff is...is cute!”

His prior thought nearly comes spilling out, and Sasuke has to clench his jaw shut before it tumbles out of his mouth. “...all tomatoes are good.”

“Then we’ll do this one next time! I’ll bring some fresh tomatoes from the store the next time we have a lighter day. If it was summer break, I could bring you some from my garden!”

“...you grow a garden?”

“A small one, yeah! I love plants, too!”

Is there anything this girl doesn’t love? “I’ve never grown anything...no idea if I’d be any good at it. Mom keeps a flower garden, but nothing you can eat.”

“I’ll have to bring you some!”

“...I’d like that.”

There’s a small, growingly-awkward silence, and then they’re blissfully interrupted by the timer. “...o-oh! Time to, uh...add the marshmallows!”

“...yeah.”

Carefully taking out the pan, they marvel at the two layers they have so far. “Okay, set the oven to broil, and I’ll add the ‘mallows!”

With everything in place, they put the pan back in, door cracked to make sure nothing burns. Soon enough, the smell of caramelized sugar wafts out, and Sasuke surprises himself at finding it pleasant.

“Okay, all done!”

...it looks glorious.

By then, they’ve drawn onlookers, and Hinata doles pieces out for the rest of the class. They take their own last, Sasuke looking at it curiously before taking a bite.

Hinata waits for a verdict.

A few seconds of chewing pass, and then he swallows. “...not bad. I like the bitter brownies, helps balance it out.”

“Yeah, I put in a bit less sugar to try to balance it out!”

“...you did?”

“I thought you’d like them better that way,” she replies, beaming.

He blinks. “...thanks.”

Once all is said and done, they clean up just as the bell rings. “Oh shoot, I need to get to practice, can you…?”

“I got it,” Sasuke assures her. “Get going.”

“Thank youuu!” Taking up her bag, she dashes out of the room with the others.

Left alone, Sasuke considers the bit of a mess, eyes lingering on the mini marshmallows.

...he’ll have to remember that.

.oOo.

Back to the Home Ec AU! I...love this one a lot xD It's so gosh darn cute. Give it up, Sasuke - there's no resisting how stinkin' adorable Hinata is. You're as good as gone, my boy. Just give in and submit to the cute! Anywho, I got more to get done tonight, so...that's all for now! Thanks for reading n_n

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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petersboyfriendsonofthor · 6 years ago

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Body Positivity

Here’s a blurb-turned-fic for @keepingupwiththeparkers sleepover! I think I missed it, but here it is anyway. Hope you like it!

Tom Holland x Male Reader; Chubby!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: angst, moderate self-hate, language, slight smut at the end

Shape of You

You and Tom were on your way to a restaurant to meet up with the main cast of Far From Home to celebrate wrapping on location. Traffic was getting pretty heavy, and the Uber driver swore under his breath. Tom turned to you and pulled out his phone.

“I’ll call Zendaya and tell her we’re running late,” he said.

“See if she’ll order for us,” you said. “I don’t wanna make them wait on their lunch. We’ll probably get there by the time it’s ready anyway.”

Tom nodded and relayed the information when Zendaya picked up. He turned the receiver away from his mouth and looked over to you.

“What would you like?”

You thought a moment before saying: “a bacon cheeseburger with fries. I’m starving!”

Tom smiled and told Z what you wanted. He was not too hungry and ordered a salad for himself. You had been eating healthy and hitting the gym for a few months with Tom, and were proud of the progress you made. You were nowhere near his fitness level just yet, but you were far from where you came. Tom was proudest of all, constantly telling you that he loves your body just how it is but that he also supported your weight loss. Not that you needed it, but you wanted it. He had originally questioned your motive when you told him you were going to exercise with him.

“Babe you look amazing just the way you are,” he had told you, rubbing your arm.

“I know,” you had said, “but I’m doing this for me. I want to lose some weight and look better for me. Well, and for you, but mostly for me.”

He had leaned in to kiss you. “And I’ll support you all the way.”

You were snapped back to the present when Tom nudged your shoulder. “We’re here, finally.”

You both exited the car, thanked the driver, and walked into the restaurant, hand in hand. You were greeted with smiles all around from your friends. You gave Tom a quick kiss before sitting down next to him at the long table. After a heated conversation about which one of you would win in a battle royale/Hunger Games scenario, the food arrived. When the greasy bacon burger and plate of fries was placed in front of you, you became acutely aware of the fact that everyone else had ordered a salad.

You became incredibly self-conscious in a matter of seconds. The feeling lasted throughout lunch. You wiped the salt off your fingers as Harrison stabbed at a crouton. Zendaya dabbed juice from a cherry tomato off of her lips as you dabbed at the burger grease on yours. Anytime one of the others eyed your plate, you avoided their eyes. You receded further and further from the conversation until Tom placed his hand on your thigh.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked, his voice low. “You’ve been acting...distant all afternoon.”

“Nothing,” you sighed. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve barely touched your fries.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You said you were starving in the car…”

“Well,” you said, hoping to end the conversation here, “I’ve lost my appetite.”

Tom opened his mouth to say something when he finally put the pieces together. Wordlessly, he dragged your plate of fries closer to his salad and started eating from it. He picked one up and waved it in the air, making jet engine noises.

“Here comes the airplane! Nyooooooom!” He pushed the french fry past your lips and you couldn’t help but smile as you bit it in half. Tom took the other half for himself and licked his fingers. You rested your head on his shoulder, still chewing, and wordlessly thanked him for helping you feel better. Once your burger was finished, you felt a bit of reflux and swallowed a burp. You felt some hiccups coming on, meaning that you ate too fast. Naturally, you were the only one with a hiccup, which brought back the self-consciousness. Tom paid the bill for the both of you. His salad was seven dollars, and your burger with fries was eleven. More guilt. That is chump change to most people, but today, to you, it made a huge difference.

You threw on a fake smile and said your goodbyes, making your way to the Uber Tom had called. The ride home was silent, and your reflux gave way to a stomach ache.

Penance for eating that slop, you thought. Sure it was tasty and exactly what you wanted, and sure it was the only burger you’ve had in the last six weeks, but everyone else ate salad. Why couldn’t your fat ass have ordered salad too? You never really liked it, but that’s what healthy people ate. That’s what Zendaya ate, and Tony, and Tom, and Jacob, and Haz, and Jake Gyllenhaal.

God! This was only your third time meeting Jake, and your first time eating food in front of him. Now he’s gonna think you eat like that all the time, as exemplified by your small double chin and a belly that sticks out.

Well, your belly didn’t really stick out that much…

But it’s still there.

Tom says--

Who cares what Tom says? Tom’s Tom. He’s your boyfriend. He has to say that. What about everyone else at that table? What about the people online that constantly shame you? What are they going to say about this?

What if some fan took a picture of you all at the table and posted it? Now they see you’re the only fatass with a burger while everyone else ate a salad. God. Why are you like this? Why are you so FUCKING fat?!

“Y/N,” Tom said, his hand on your shoulder.

You looked up at him, quickly wiping away your furrowed brow and scowl. “Hmm?”

“We’re home.”

Once inside, you headed straight for the bathroom. You locked the door, turned on the exhaust fan and faucet to drown out any potential crying, and faced yourself in the mirror. You sighed and slowly removed your shirt.

Your eyes drifted to the bits of acne that dotted your shoulders and upper chest. There was a large pimple between your pecs. From there, your eyes found the isolated strands of hair around your nipples. God did that look stupid. Tom probably hates that. He’s probably embarrassed to be seen around you when your shirt is off. Lord knows you would be. You made a mental note to shave that off immediately.

You then looked to the trail of hair that spilled out of your belly button and traversed the hill that was your lower abdomen and disappeared down your jeans. You angrily grabbed at the fat on your belly, which just peeked over the edge of your jeans, enough for you to label yourself a muffin top. You jiggled the fat, disappointed and ashamed.

Why would Tom subject himself to seeing this every night? Why would he suck your dick if his head has to feel the squish of your belly every time he goes down? Why would he like the feeling of his fingers sinking into your sides when he held your hips? Why would he want to see the rolls that form from sitting as you ride him? Why would he want to feel your belly on his back when you were the big spoon? Why would he want to look at your droopy ass when he takes you from behind? Why would he want to even be seen with you in public? Why would he want your body? Why would he want you?

You hardly noticed the tears rolling down your cheeks. They soon turned to quiet sobs. You sat on the edge of the tub in defeat, staring at the blurred image of your distended stomach through welled up tears. There was a knock at the door.

“Y/N, open up, love,” Tom called, softly. “I know what you’re doing in there.”

Why would he care? You don’t need his pity. His lies.

Tom tried the door only to find it locked. “Darling, please open up.” He waited for a few beats before trying again.

“Baby, please, you’re starting to scare me a little,” his voice sounded concerned enough. He jiggled the knob harder. “C’mon love.”

You begrudgingly rose from your seat and unlocked the door. Immediately it was opened to show a concerned Tom biting his lip. When he saw you his heart sank. He was right about what you had been doing. There were still marks on your belly from where you grabbed it with force. You sniffled as he took you into his arms.

He squeezed you tight, and you were well aware of the fact that his fingers sunk into the flesh of your bare back ever so slightly, while your fingers were met with muscle. He kissed your neck before pulling back to kiss away your tears. He cradled your face in his hands and ran his thumb across your lips. He gently pulled on your bottom lip, revealing the small bits of skin that were missing from how hard you bite it when you’re stressed. He held you for a few minutes, letting you release your pent up emotion. Once you had pulled yourself together, he gently turned you around to face yourself in the mirror.

Your face was red and wet from crying, cheeks and eyes puffy. Tom pressed himself behind you and brought his hands all over your body. He took your hands in his so that you would feel what he was feeling. He passed over the marks you left in your belly fat. He passed the love handles you hated under your obliques. He passed your pecs, with their hairy nipples and layer of fat on the end. He passed your shoulders, over the acne but skipping the pimple. He knew the ones on your chest hurt when touched. He got them too. He pressed a firm and loving kiss to your shoulder, in a spot that happened to have acne scarring. He moved his kisses to your neck and you sighed.

“Baby,” you croaked. “Be honest, do you love my body?”

Tom locked eyes with you in the mirror and rubbed your stomach softly.

“Yes, love,” he said, pressing a kiss to your earlobe. “I love your body.”

“Why?”

It was a simple question but it broke his heart. There was nothing he hated worse than when you felt down about your body, especially when you started hating yourself for it.

“Because it’s you. I love you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t control the outpour of emotion as your boyfriend placed tender kisses to your neck and cheek.

“I love you for the real you, baby,” he continued. “I love you for what’s inside. I love you for what’s in here-” he touched his finger to your forehead “-and in here.” He placed his hand over your heart. You couldn’t stop crying over everything that was happening. You hated that you hated your body. You usually weren’t like this. You felt guilty that you made him worry. You also felt so much love from and for Tom that you couldn’t quite process everything else that was going on.

You spun around and captured his lips in a desperate kiss. “I’m sorry,” you whispered over and over onto his lips, and all he whispered back was “I love you.”

Tom broke the kiss to work his lips down your body, kissing over the marks you made on your belly. You rolled your head back and sighed. He stood back up and led you to the bedroom. You both shed your clothes and he took a step back to admire you in your nakedness. He bit his lip and eyed your body hungrily.

“All for me…” he muttered to himself before taking your hand and leading you to the bed. He grabbed a condom, rolled it on, and lubed up. He had you straddle him and you sank down on him slowly. You rode him, his moans inspiring confidence, and his wandering hands instilled more pride in your body.

Who cares what other people think about you? You have nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing to hate. You loved yourself, deep down. On days like this, sometimes all it takes is a little encouragement from Tom.

Tom couldn’t keep his legs still as you rode him to his high, looking him in the eyes as you did. He took you in his hand and worked you over to yours. It didn’t take long, as his dick hit your prostate on almost every bounce. You came on his abs and collapsed onto him. Panting, you both gazed lovingly in each other's eyes. He pulled you in for a hot, messy kiss. He sat up quickly, taking you with him. You giggled as he scooped you up and took you back to the bathroom to run a shower. You spent the rest of the evening in his arms, naked to the waist. He rested his head on your chest and traced circles onto your belly, whispering words of love and encouragement for you and your beautiful body.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x male reader #tom holland x male!reader #tom holland smut #chubby!reader #tom holland x chubby!reader #keepingupwiththeparkers #keepingupwiththeparkers sleepover

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torrid-sunbeam · 6 years ago

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Layers of The Sunflower

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

Name: “Georgina, but almost everyone calls me Georgie.”

Eye Color: “Hazel. They’re a greenish brown and have flecks of gold around the center.”

Hair Style/Color: “Black but when I’m in the sunlight, it has a blueish purple tint to it almost. I usually put it up in a ponytail or wear it down. ”

Height: “Five foot, four inches last I was measured.”

Clothing Style: “I prefer casual and comfortable, so tank tops and shorts or skirts. I bought some sundresses recently for the summer as well.”

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Your Fears: “Being alone.”

Your Guilty Pleasure: “Gambling, specifically poker. I recently taught Aisla to play and she surprisingly bested me. I don’t think Rowan will be too happy once he finds that bit out though.”

Your Biggest Pet Peeve: “People who are mean or rude with no reason to be. Even if they have a reason, they have a choice to be kind.”

Your Ambition for the Future: “I’m hoping to finish school and by then know what I want to do. Other than that, I want what every normal person wants... a family.”

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

Your First Thoughts Waking Up: “Is he still here?”

What You Think About the Most: “Rowan is at the top for sure, but I think about my Dad and Nadia a lot too.”

What You Think About Before Bed: “It really depends on if Rowan is with me or traveling, I suppose. But either way, they’re on the same topic.”

Your Best Quality Is: “I’d like to think it’s my compassion. I find a hard time being rude to anyone, even if they deserve it.”

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

Single or Group Dates: “Single. I’m not overly fond of sharing valuable time with anyone else.”

To be Loved or Respected: “To be loved.”

Beauty or Brains: “Brains. I might be shy but I still enjoy talking to people.”

Dogs or Cats: “I like both. I never understood why you have to like one over the other.”

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie: “I... yes. Yes, I have.”

Believe in Yourself: “I’m starting to.”

Believe in Love: “Yes.”

Want Someone: “I want him all the time.”

LAYER SIX: EVER?

Been on Stage: “Only at my piano recitals when I was younger.”

Done Drugs: “No, of course not.”

Changed Who You Were to Fit In: “No, that’s just another way of lying and I am a horrible liar.”

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

Favorite Color: “Marigold yellow, like the sun at sunset.”

Favorite Animal: “Horses.”

Favorite Food: “My dad’s cherry pastries. He made them every summer around the Fire Festival.”

Favorite Game: “Poker.”

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

Day Your Next Birthday Will Be: “September first.”

How Old Will You Be: “Twenty-two.”

Age You Lost Your Virginity: “...twenty-one.”

Does Age Matter: “No, not really.”

LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

Best Personality: “Kindness above anything else, but someone who can challenge me and make me see things differently.”

Best Eye Color: “I’ve always liked brown eyes but now I’m quite fond of green.”

Best Hair Color: “I don’t really have a preference.”

Best thing to do with a Partner: “Lay in bed and talk for hours.”

Tagged by: @poisonatreyu

Tagging: @cedrickholtstories @seaandsails @deviantaisla @alexkestavin @thalsianiii @eliceynbirch

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 7 years ago

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Like Sun On The Rise

Domestic fluff requested by a sweet friend, @literal-ray-of-sunshine. I hope this makes you smile.

Penelope learns Schneider never experienced the joys and terrors of sleepovers as a child, and decides to fix that. Secret talents, Truth or Dare... and feelings that can only be avoided for so long.

Penelope x Schneider, One Day At A Time. Also on AO3.

He hesitated. “Just to clarify...what are the rules? Off-limits stuff?”

With her feet practically resting on his, Penelope shrugged. “I can’t think of anything. We know each other. And we’re both sober--with my kids down the hall. Basically, we’re playing Truth or Dare: Grown Ups Edition.”

“You know, if we were really going to play the grown ups edition...” Schneider grinned at her, more than a little bit flirtatious, and she swatted him on the arm.

“Ugh.”

“Just saying.”

“Not funny.”

He kept smiling, until she started to feel a little self-conscious with him staring at her so freely. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he wasn’t kidding.

The knock came while Elena was playing video games on the couch.

“Elena, could you get the door?” Penelope called from the kitchen. “I’ve got my hands full in here.”

She heard the squeal with her back to the living room and smiled. Apparently the reunion was starting early, and the scene in the living room when she turned around was a heartwarming one.

“I thought your flight wasn’t until seven,” Elena said, hugging her best friend while shock turned to elation. “I was supposed to meet you at the airport. Schneider was going to take me,” she added, shooting him an accusing look over Carmen’s shoulder.

“My flight changed. Figured I’d surprise you,” Carmen replied with her familiar deadpan tone. “Surprise.”

“She swore me to secrecy,” Schneider added.

Elena emerged from their hug to beam at Carmen. “I’m so glad you’re back. Tomorrow you and I and Syd are all going to hang out and I cannot wait for you to finally officially meet them. I know you’ve seen them, like, a lot, but video chat is not the same. Oh my god, I’ve missed you so much!”

Elena’s excitement rushed her words together and made Penelope smile. When she realized Schneider remained near the couch, grinning fondly at the girls too, she headed over to him.

“Elena told me this was your idea,” Penelope said as her daughter pulled Carmen toward her bedroom, still talking non-stop.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it was my idea,” he hedged, looking like he might bolt for the door after all. “She was talking about how much she wished Carmen could visit over the summer but how Carmen’s family didn’t have the money for a flight. I just mentioned that I’d be willing to buy Carmen a ticket, if that was all it took. And if you were on board, obviously!”

“Calm down, Schneider. I’m not accusing you of anything. You knew I agreed to this weekend. I’m trying to thank you for helping make it happen.”

“Oh. You’re welcome.” His grin mellowed into something softer when peals of laughter floated their way and his eyes met Penelope’s. “Listen to those two.”

There was a hint of parental guilt in her nod of agreement. “Elena never exactly had an easy time making friends. I know how hard it was for her after Carmen moved. Tonight’s sleepover is just what the landlord ordered.”

“I didn’t order it,” Schneider insisted. “I couldn’t recommend it based on experience--I’ve never even been to a sleepover.”

She sat on the couch, frowning at him.“What do you mean you’ve never been to a sleepover? At some point, before you were the pampered man-child you are today, you were an actual child.”

“Your point being?”

“It’s a thing. A thing kids do. You’re telling me you never went to a single sleepover in your whole life.”

“I’ve had the adult kind,” Schneider argued.

“Doesn’t count. I’m talking pajamas and ghost stories and junk food, that stuff. Rite of passage, essential childhood experiences.”

“My childhood wasn’t like that,” he said with a shrug. “The thing about sleepovers is you need a place where your friends can come over, to sleep at. I went to boarding school.”

“So really, your whole childhood was one long sleepover.”

Schneider shrugged again, but this time it was more like a wince. “The other thing about sleepovers is you kind of need friends."

When he didn’t elaborate further, she decided not to push. “I'll see you later,” he ventured into the silence that followed.

Penelope listened to the faint sounds of Elena and Carmen catching up and watched as Schneider turned to leave. She took a leap.

“Hey, Schneider?”

He faced her expectantly. “Yeah.”

“What have you got planned for tonight?”

“Netflix, woodworking. Maybe some yoga. Why? You need something?”

“No. I was thinking that if you didn’t have big plans, you could come over. We could hang out.”

“You and me?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “Mami’s out of town visiting my cousin, the girls are having a sleepover, you’ve never had one. We could watch movies, eat too much popcorn, stay up late playing games and gossiping and painting each others’ nails...”

Penelope raised her eyebrows at him to make him laugh. “Anyway, it could be fun.”

“You’re serious.”

“Absolutely,” she declared with more conviction this time. “I used to love a good sleepover. And I didn’t have anything planned other than hanging around listening to those two. Why should they have all the fun?”

"Okay!” Schneider’s face lit up like a kid getting offered a gift--which wasn’t too far off, in a way, Penelope thought.

“I’d love to," he added. "I’ll bring snacks.”

****

When Schneider came back after dinner, her laughter was so loud it carried to Elena’s room.

“You said you would bring snacks, Schneider...not all the snacks.”

“I wanted us to have options!” He had toted up four recyclable grocery bags full of them and had been proud of himself for the effort--until now.

“We definitely will,” Penelope agreed. “For the next month. Even if the kids help, there’s no way can we eat all this stuff tonight.”

“Then I’ll leave the rest and you guys can have it later.” Shaking his head, Schneider moved the bags to the kitchen counter, waiting until she joined him to start unpacking.

Along with name brand chips and microwave popcorn and fancy soda, he had gotten her favorite snacks, which made her feel bad for making fun of him. How did he even remember the Ben and Jerrys flavor she liked when they only sold it at Target?

Did he shop at Target just so he could include it?

“You really went all out,” Penelope said once the drinks were in the fridge and the ice cream was in the freezer.

“I wanted to.”

“Yeah.” She paused as the thought occurred to her. “I know you got the Ben and Jerry's for me, and I recognize that frozen yogurt thing you like...but what’s the other ice cream for? You definitely got more than we need. It barely fits in the freezer.”

“It won’t need the space for long,” he predicted with a wink, lifting a can of whipped cream out of the last bag along with jars of chocolate and caramel sauce and fresh cherries.

“Schneider.”

She’d already let the girls order pizza for dinner. Carmen being there at all was a treat. Sundaes, on top of that?

“C’mon, Pen.” Ever so casually, he pulled the last item out of the bag he was holding and slid it her way.

Damn it.

“Cookie dough. Seriously?”

He knew her too well.

“Elena, Alex!” She rolled her eyes toward Schneider when the kids emerged from their rooms. “Guess who decided to splurge on do-it-yourself sundaes tonight?”

“Yes!” Alex was excited enough that Penelope couldn’t help thinking he didn’t need the sugar, but she watched Schneider pass the girls the ingredients to form an assembly line and was reminded of her own childhood.

This was exactly the sort of thing that Elena would hopefully remember one day, those bright, happy memories that were wonderful because they were small and random. Honestly, it was lucky her daughter was still interested in things like ice cream all-nighters with her best friend at this age.

“You guys get started,” Schneider said, resting a hand on Penelope’s arm and pulling her aside. “I’ll make mine next.”

In the relative privacy of the hall, with the kids’ conversations providing cover, he let his concern show. “Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Schneider shook his head. “Talk to me. I saw something on your face, and it was not fine.”

“No, it’s--I’m okay. I’m good. I just had a mom moment. You know, Elena’s got her first girlfriend, Alex is practically dating too. How much longer do I have with them before they’re too old for sundaes and sleepovers and...well, me?”

“Psh!” Letting go of her hand, Schneider squeezed her around the waist while Alex teased Elena a few feet away. “They’ll never be too old for you.”

He stayed hugging her as they watched Carmen bury her chocolate ice cream in chocolate sauce with severe focus. “And nobody is too old for sundaes,” he argued. “I’m forty and I’m about to fix a triple-layer one for myself.”

“That’s true.”

“Plus you and I are having a sleepover!” He grinned at her. “Age is just a number.”

“Mom, we’re gonna eat in my room,” Elena said, sliding past them with her bowl and spoon. Carmen and Alex followed, leaving the sundae supplies strewn across the counter.

“Besides,” Schneider said in the sudden quiet. “This is my first sleepover, Penelope. Now is not the time for melancholy. It’s party time!”

“Okay, okay.” She shook off the mood and pointed at the open cartons. “Make your sundae before the ice cream melts.”

“You’re not having one?”

“No way.” Penelope shot him a grin, plucking the yellow package off the counter. “I’m making cookies.”

****

Trying to be a good example for the kids and not get sick, she only had a couple of cookies at a time. And maybe she stole a few spoonfuls of his sundae, but they were just tastes--they didn’t count. Especially when Schneider ate four cookies out of her first batch.

“Honestly,” Penelope told him from where she was curled up on the couch. “I have no idea how you can have that much sugar at once and not die, when your usual diet is obsessively healthy.”

Sprawled out next to her, he filled more than his fair share of the available space. They were both too content with the sugar high to feel weird about it.

“Obsessively is the key word.” Schneider smiled at her a little. “I told you I have an addictive personality--sugar is addictive. Having a reasonable amount is the hard part for me."

Penelope frowned and reached for his hand. “Should we not have...I didn’t mean to encourage--”

He turned his palm over, cutting her off with the surprise move of lacing his fingers through hers. “It’s fine. Tonight won’t kill me. I came to have the classic sleepover experience, and so far it has been a blast.”

“All right. If you’re sure.”

“Yeah. But, tomorrow morning, if you catch me trying to get Lydia to add extra sugar to my coffee...cut me off.” He offered her a sheepish look that was also somehow charming. The softer side of Schneider--quieter, open about his flaws--never failed to tug at her.

She did her best to cover that with jokes, though. The last thing she needed was for him to realize that his vulnerability was even more attractive than seeing him suited up for a quinces.

“Anyway,” Schneider continued, oblivious to her thoughts as he released her hand. “What’s next on the classic sleepover agenda? Movies, games?”

“Movies are a must,” Penelope agreed. “But I think I’m too close to a sugar coma for one now--unless it’s a horror movie, and we can’t watch any of those until later.”

“Because of the kids?”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s cute. I’m sure they’ve already seen all the ones I’ve banned in secret screenings with their friends. No, I meant we should definitely watch a horror film, but after dark--for maximum terror.”

“Oh. Great,” Schneider offered up after a slight hesitation. The wobble in his voice made her smile. She knew he was kind of a scaredy cat just like her, but fear was a time-honored part of sleepover tradition.

"So we should play a game,” she decided. “Unless you really do want to go for makeovers.”

“I...I don’t know how that would even work.” His brow furrowed. “Plus I kind of like my look the way it is.”

Penelope held up her hands reassuringly. “Kidding. Like I said then, game time.”

“Which means what? I used to play a great round of Monopoly.”

Laughing, she shifted closer. “Not board games--we can play those any day. Sleepovers have their own games, though I have to admit all the games I remember are for teenagers. Truth or dare, seven minutes in heaven, spin the bottle.”

“I may not be a sleepover whiz, but I know spin the bottle,” Schneider said. “We would need more than two people for that one. What’s seven minutes in heaven?”

“Also made for more than two people,” Penelope replied. “It’s the worst. You go into a closet with somebody else and then everybody assumes you kissed. Just hormones raging, and gossip.”

“So I guess truth or dare it is, then.”

She nodded. “We’ve got at least an hour to kill--pun intended--until we can pick a thriller to watch. But god, the idea of truth or dare flashes me back to junior high. Have you played before?”

“I have not. Surprisingly, my nannies wouldn’t take me up on the invitation when I was a preteen. Seen it in movies, though.”

“Okay...I should probably go first.” She waited, then nudged his foot with hers. “Ask me!”

Schneider blinked at her. “Oh. Right. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

He hesitated. “Just to clarify...what are the rules? Off-limits stuff?”

“You know, if we were really going to play the grown ups edition...” Schneider grinned at her, more than a little bit flirtatious, and she swatted him on the arm.

“Ugh.”

“Just saying.”

“Not funny.”

He kept smiling, until she started to feel a little self-conscious with him staring at her so freely. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he wasn’t kidding.

But he had to be kidding--Penelope had made it clear years ago that she didn’t think of him like that. It was her own fault that she went and became interested after all.

“Okay,” Schneider said, ending the charged moment between them. “Truth. What’s one thing you desperately want right now, but don’t have?”

Penelope thought it over for almost a full minute before she nodded. “A spa.”

“A spa.” He blinked. “Out of everything you could wish for in the entire universe, you just want to go to a spa?”

“What can I say, I like the simple pleasures.” She gave him a look. “And I didn’t say I wanted a spa day. I said a spa. As in, my own spa. That I can escape to whenever I want.”

“Oh, right, right, right. That makes much more sense.”

“Your turn, Schneider. Truth or dare?” Penelope relaxed back into the couch cushions a little further. She was enjoying their impromptu night more than she had expected to.

“My first turn! Exciting. Wow.” His eyes widened. “Which do you think I should pick?”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“But this is important!”

“This is a game, Schneider.” She gentled her tone. “This is a party game for twelve-year-olds. It’s not the end of the world, no matter what you pick.”

“But--”

“Whichever one you pick now, just pick the other on your next turn. Okay?”

“Alright.” He shook the tension out of his shoulders, jiggling the spot where she sat. “Truth.”

“Okay. My question for you is...who’s your favorite family member?”

“Lydia.”

She frowned. “I didn’t mean my family. I was talking about yours.”

“Lydia is my family. She saw me through a lot of rough patches over the last fifteen years, Pen. I love her like the mother I never had.”

“But what about the mothers you did have?” She felt like shaking him a little, though she knew she didn’t have any right to be frustrated. Now it was her turn to breathe out the stress.

“I was trying to find out more about the family you come from, Schneider. You talk about them only in really vague terms, and they never visit. You’ve met practically everybody related to me at this point, so...I’m curious.”

Schneider sighed and moved back so he wasn’t encroaching on her side of the couch anymore. “You’re right. That’s fair. What exactly do you want to know?”

Watching him carefully, Penelope wondered if stretching her own limbs out toward him would be weird. She missed the friendly warmth they’d been sharing.

“Anything. What’s your happiest memory from growing up? Did you have a favorite holiday? What did you do for fun?”

“Wow, okay. That’s more than one question,” he pointed out. “I feel like we’re breaking the rules of the game.”

“If you don’t want to do it,” she replied with raised eyebrows, “you can always choose Dare instead.”

He frowned. “That feels like a cop-out.”

“Totally valid loophole,” Penelope assured him. “Though if you’re going to do it on every Truth you’re better off just starting with Dare in the first place.”

“Dare,” he decided without further hesitation. She was left wondering what about his family and his childhood he was so desperate to keep secret as she moved on.

“Sure. I dare you to...sing your favorite song backwards.”

Schneider’s brow furrowed in the center but he complied. Though she gave him points for effort, his attempt was as loud as it was nonsensical, bringing the girls into the living room to stare.

They were harsh critics.

“Go back to your party,” Penelope said, raising her voice over the boos, “and leave us to ours. You’re not invited.”

Elena led the way out, laughing with Carmen until bedroom doors shut them in.

“They should be crashing soon from all the sugar,” she told Schneider reassuringly. “If you want, we can wait until they’re asleep.”

“No, I’m good. Your turn,” he reminded her. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

This time, he thought about his question for a long time. She reached out and tapped his leg before he finally asked it.

“Earth to Schneider.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He nodded to himself. “If you could go back in time and change one decision you made, what would it be?”

Penelope had a painfully clear flashback to a bed behind a curtain, and the liar she married seducing her into trusting him again.

If she were being completely honest, she wasn’t sure if she would go back to stop herself from giving Victor another chance...or to stop herself from finding out the truth in such a vulnerable moment. That weakness in her, the not-knowing, was something she was too ashamed to admit, especially to Schneider.

“Dare,” she said instead.

Though he was visibly surprised, he didn’t press. “I dare you to...show me a hidden talent you have.”

“Hmm.” That was a pretty good dare, she had to admit. Creative. She pressed her lips together, trying to think of something Schneider wouldn’t already know about.

“Got it.” Penelope stood, leaving him on the couch while she disappeared into her room. When she returned, she was carrying--of all things--a hula hoop.

Schneider couldn’t stop grinning at her, but he did hold back the laugh that wanted to escape at the very idea of Penelope hula hooping.

“Was this some kind of trendy exercise thing?” He asked as she stood near the front door, planting her feet clear of the furniture.

“No, this was an ‘I have kids’ thing,” she countered. “I wasn’t big into it when I was little, but as a mom, it turns out I rock a hula hoop.”

“Okay then.”

Squashing his amusement as best he could, Schneider watched Penelope start to move...and instantly realized nothing about her secret talent was funny.

She didn’t just sway the hoop--she moved with it in a rhythmic circle, like she was dancing. He’d never thought about the mechanics of hula hooping before, but after watching Penelope, he was pretty sure it was all in the hips, because he couldn’t take his eyes off hers.

Hula hooping should not be sexy, he told himself firmly. Clearly he had a problem.

“Very nice.” Schneider clapped politely when she stopped.

“Hey, you asked for it.”

“Yeah. No. I did, you are correct.” She misunderstood his discomfort, but he was glad--he definitely preferred Penelope thinking he was experiencing anything other than a vivid fantasy right now.

“Okay, now it’s your turn,” she said, setting the hula hoop by the door and rejoining him on the couch.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to...” Her smile was wicked. “Show me your hula hooping skills.”

“I--I don’t have any.” Schneider shook his head. “I’ve never hula hooped in my life, Pen. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Want me to teach you?”

Somehow, he had a feeling that lessons with the hoop would involve closeness. Or touching. Or both. Hard and fast, he shoved back against his feelings until they were locked down where they belonged. Then he nodded.

“I mean, you can try. I can’t say I’ve ever thought of myself as a future hula hooping pro.”

“Yeah, but it could be fun.” Penelope stood and reached a hand out to him. “Come on, Schneider. Live a little.”

“Remember who you’re talking to,” he warned her cheerfully. “I live a lot!” As she passed him the hoop, he took her spot near the door. “Does this count as my turn, for the dare?”

“Not a chance,” she answered just as cheerfully.

“But I will be showing you my hulaing skills. They just happen to be a work in progress.”

“This isn’t part of the game. When we’re ready to go back to Truth or Dare, I’ll give you a new dare.”

Schneider sighed dramatically, but his good-natured shrug was the reaction she’d expected.

“And I’m going to tell you the secret to hula hooping,” Penelope told him, “so you can get the hang of it way quicker than I did. What you want is to focus on moving individual parts of your body.”

“Like this?”

Schneider attempted to take her advice, but the hoop only swung around his stomach twice before it clattered down.

“Well, no.” She laughed as he gave it back, then nudged him aside. “Watch me.”

Penelope made it look easy, aiming a grin at him when she tossed her hair back. “See how my hips are moving and keeping the hoop going,” she asked, “but my legs and knees are barely moving at all?”

“Yep.”

That was a serious understatement of what he noticed, of course. The way her hair bounced and caught the light of the living room; her eyes warm with amusement at the silliness of their night so far, even while she was also watching him intently to see if he was getting the hang of it.

Her fingers, flexing a little where she had them raised above the hoop like she was itching to dance and couldn’t fully hold back. The curve of her lips and how soft they always looked; the way her breathing barely changed as she casually kept the hoop in motion.

And above all else, the way her hips were moving, as she had so helpfully pointed out. He hated feeling like such a stereotypical guy around his best friend, but his reaction was less thoughtful than it was primal. He wanted to remove the hula hoop from the equation entirely and close the distance between them.

Swallowing audibly against that thought, Schneider nodded at her. “All right, time to see if I can do that.”

His second attempt was better, though compared to Penelope it still looked nothing like hula hooping. But after a few tries, he managed to keep it circling his waist for more than a full minute.

His proud grin was definitely a highlight of the evening, she decided. She snapped a couple of pictures of him holding the hoop when he wasn’t looking, just so she could hold on to it.

Schneider was grateful that he was done actually using the hoop before Alex came out of his room and spotted them, grabbing a cookie with one hand and a handful of chips with the other.

“Whoa,” Alex said, smirking a little as he put the pieces together. “What’s happening out here?”

“We’re having a sleepover and you’re still not invited,” his mom told him firmly. “And don’t get crumbs in your bed.”

He lifted his snack-filled hands. “I’m just saying, finding Schneider out here with a hula hoop is pretty weird.”

Alex left, and Schneider stared after him more solemnly than she thought was called for.

“Hey, come back to the party.”

“I’m here. Do you think I’m weird?”

Penelope blinked. “Yes.”

“Oh.”

The furrow in his brow was back, and the downturn of his mouth made her sad along with him, so Penelope skipped past teasing him like she normally would. She cast aside her careful distance to try and fix whatever had just gone wrong so quickly.

“Do you think that’s a bad thing? Schneider, weird people become scientists and artists and change the way the rest of us see the world. My kids are weird, and I hope they find a way to hang on to that for as long as possible.”

She tilted her head, trying to figure out if he understood her. “You’re genuinely yourself, and that’s something to be proud of. If you weren’t weird, you wouldn’t be the guy who makes my Mami feel young, looks out for my kids when they need it, or who thinks a sleepover with me sounds like more fun than your normal plans on a Friday night.”

Taking the hoop from him, she smiled at Schneider and was relieved when he smiled back. “I for one am grateful you’re this weird, because I’ve been having a really great time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So let me put this away before one of us breaks something--hula hooping indoors eventually becomes an invitation to injury--and we’ll go back to the game.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt myself,” he protested as she left, raising his voice to follow her through the hall. “I know your apartment better than I know my own.”

“And that’s supposed to convince me?” Her words floated back to him. “Last week you nearly broke your toe in your own kitchen.”

“Well, there was a bee, and I was in a hurry.” He was still waiting by the door when she returned.

“Okay,” he asked. “What’s my dare?”

“Right.” She had almost forgotten about that after watching him try to imitate her at hula hooping. How was tonight more fun than she’d had in weeks?

Penelope looked at him thoughtfully, then around the apartment. “Since you brought it up, Schneider, I dare you to walk from that spot to the kitchen with your eyes shut, and make yourself a snack.”

Though she expected an argument, she didn’t get one.

“Alright.” He squared his shoulders and shut his eyes, lashes fluttering behind his glasses, before she stopped him.

“Wait. With your glasses on I won’t be able to see if you peek.”

“I’m not going to cheat!” The insult in his tone was, frankly, adorable, but she acted as though she didn’t hear it.

“Yeah, because I’m not going to give you the option.” Ducking her head into a closet, Penelope lifted out a handkerchief and quickly folded it in half, then again. “Bend down a little.”

“What?”

“Lean towards me. Come on already.” Penelope reached up and tugged on his shirt until he was more at her level.

Schneider huffed out a breath, blinking hard when she carefully removed his glasses and set them on the couch behind her.

“I did not agree to this,” Schneider protested as she laid the cloth against his face, smoothing her thumbs over his skin. Both of them ignored the fact that he was twice her size and could stop her at any time if he really wanted to.

Once she was satisfied that the handkerchief was flat enough, she tied it behind his head and regarded the result.

He looked so shocked behind the blindfold, Penelope couldn’t help the pang of sympathy. She lifted her hands again and cupped his face. “Trust me, Schneider. You’ll be okay.”

Unable to see her, or expression as she watched him, Schneider leaned into her palm, everything about him softening.

Under different circumstances, Penelope might call the look on his face longing. She ran her thumb over his cheekbone for an indulgent moment of her own before stepping back and clearing her throat. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” He straightened and nodded. “You’re not gonna put anything in my path, or get in the way, right?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she reassured him with a quirk of her lips that was lost on him. “Not after you let me blindfold you to make sure there was no cheating.”

“Good point. Okay. Then it’s just a straight shot to the kitchen,” Schneider declared, and she watched from behind the couch as he walked in the right direction.

If Penelope were the one in the dark, she would feel her way there slowly, even though she had her own home memorized. It was just practical, to keep from bumping into furniture and collecting unnecessary bruises. But Schneider didn’t.

He also didn’t slow down, walking at the same pace he would if he had stopped by for coffee in the morning. Once he neared the kitchen, then he reached out to feel for the doorway, but up until that moment, she had expected more fumbling.

“Wow, Schneider, I’m impressed,” she admitted as he stepped into the kitchen.

“By that?” He asked, still unable to see anything, but carefully feeling his way along the counter until he found the snacks he had brought with him earlier. “That was nothing.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

“Well, you’re forgetting that I’m pretty blind,” Schneider said as he ran his fingers over the surface of a box of microwave popcorn.

Penelope was pretty sure that a blindfolded Schneider plus microwave anything was a recipe for disaster, but she couldn’t find her voice to protest--she was too fascinated. He opened the box, took out one bag, and set the rest aside with the box flap neatly closed again.

The protective plastic seemed trickier for him, but she held her tongue while he finally gripped it the right way and opened it with a satisfying pop. By the time he unfolded the bag and turned toward the microwave, she was starting to think maybe he just had secret x-ray vision.

“What does your terrible eyesight have to do with it?” she asked as he set the bag down, flaps up, measuring with his splayed fingers to find the center of the glass turntable.

He shut her microwave door and hit a button that had to be at random–he didn’t even feel for it–then turned toward the sound of her voice and smiled.

“I don’t sleep in my glasses. I don’t wear them every second of the day, and I hate contacts. So I’ve gotten pretty used to life in the dark.”

“Huh.” The dull popping coming from inside the microwave filled the silence between them, and she watched Schneider run his finger down the buttons while he waited for the cue to stop the process.

Settling on the correct button--seriously, how did he do that?--he listened to the slowing pops, and then tapped the button and turned around. “Penelope?”

“Yeah.”

He turned back toward her, leaving the popcorn in the microwave behind him. “Can I take off the blindfold now, or do you want to risk me dumping it in a bowl sight unseen? Because I’m happy to try, but if my aim is off, it won’t be a small mess.”

“Good point.” She crossed the kitchen and stepped behind him, reaching up to carefully untie the handkerchief instead of letting him do it himself. She had to stand on her toes, but it was worth it to enjoy the way he visibly tensed up once he knew she was there.

What used to be normal for them made her needy now, and though he wasn’t uncomfortable for the same reason, his reaction made her feel a little better anyway.

“Hey,” Schneider stage-whispered after Penelope had brought him his glasses and he could see again. She enjoyed the moment before that when she got to look at him without them, his wide, unfocused eyes as blue as the sky.

“What?” She whispered back.

“Listen.”

“I don’t hear anything,” she told him with a frown.

“Exactly,” he said, letting his voice return to its usual volume. “Me neither. I think the kids hit their sugar wall earlier than I expected.”

“Maybe it was all the excitement.” Penelope smiled at him. “So, what do you want to do now?”

Schneider had the briefest thought that he acknowledged was stupid, where he wondered if maybe that was an invitation. Something about tonight made it hard to hold back the impulse to flirt, to push things a little too far, to test their dynamic.

She was just so relaxed with him like this, so open and beautiful and happy. He wanted to answer honestly, and tell her that the only real answer to that question was Kiss you, but luckily the logical part of his brain was still in charge of him and he could hold back those words.

“Movie time,” he offered instead, and Penelope looked down where he had shoved his hands into his pockets before she nodded.

“Okay. I got a new one that’s supposed to be really scary,” she told him, “and really good. Let me get my own snack ready? And I’ll join you on the couch.”

Schneider dumped his popcorn into a plastic bowl and went to wait, his nose crinkling as Penelope worked in the kitchen. “What are you doing in there?”

“Making my own movie snack, like I said.”

“It smells...interesting.”

“You can try it if you want.” She shut the cabinet behind her and hit a button on the microwave, taking the next three minutes to clean up her kitchen from sundaes and snacks.

“Hey, Penelope?”

“Yes?”

“How scary is the movie exactly?”

“A lot. Or so I’ve been told.”

She shot him a grin through the cutout, enjoying the way he almost looked like he might be blushing in response. “Don’t worry, Schneider. If you get too scared, you can hold my hand.”

****

She let him get away it with while the trailers and FBI warnings played, but eventually enough was enough.

“Stop,” Penelope hissed as the opening music began to sound.

Schneider didn’t reply, focusing on the movie as though he never heard her. His silence quickly turned into an “Ouch!” when she kicked his foot.

“Stop stealing my popcorn!! You have your own.” Penelope yanked her bowl out of reach.

“Mine was made blindfolded,” he argued. “Yours is delicious.”

“Well, I offered to share, and it’s not my fault you didn’t believe me and try it then.”

“You have to admit, Penelope, lime-sugar popcorn is a pretty hard sell.”

“I don’t have to admit anything.” Setting the food back in her lap, she lightly slapped his hand away when it snuck toward her again. “I’m the one with the bowl.”

“Oh God,” Schneider whispered a few minutes into the film. “Oh God!”

“Shh.” She ate another handful of popcorn and tried to drown him out.

“But the--”

“She’s just a kid, Schneider. Calm down.”

A half hour later it was Penelope reaching for his forearm without thinking about it. “Oh my god!”

“I know!” He whispered back, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again.

“This is not what I expected the movie to be,” she admitted, letting go of the death grip she had on his arm and patting it in apology.

“Well, me neither!” Schneider opened his eyes a little and then shut them again with a shudder. “This is really scary.”

“That has to be the worst of it,” Penelope offered up hopefully. “It can’t get creepier than that, right?”

They grabbed each other at the same time when the movie hit its climax. “Their heads!!” Schneider said, squirming in his seat next to her. “I--”

“I know, me too,” Penelope admitted, shifting closer to him on the couch. “I am going to have that burned into my brain for a long time.”

“Oh god,” Schneider murmured, his eyes glued to the screen now. “Oh god oh god oh god...:”

Penelope moved over the rest of the way to shut him up, tucking herself under his arm so her hands could hold his. “It’s only a movie, calm down.”

“It’s my first sleepover!” he reminded her with a squeak in his voice. “And that was a lot of blood.”

“I think it’s almost over,” she reassured him.

By the time the closing credits rolled, Schneider’s arm was wrapped around her like he never wanted to let go, and she was still keeping a bracing hand on his knee.

“Well.” He blinked in the dark living room, and she suddenly realized how close they were...and how it would look if any of the kids had come out and seen them like this during the movie.

“Right.” She reached for the remote control to stop the movie, but didn’t get up.

“That was certainly an experience.”

“It was,” she agreed. “A…”

“Gruesome one?” He finished her thought.

“Yeah. I mean, it was a good horror movie,” Penelope admitted, “but for tonight, it was maybe a little much.”

Schneider chuckled and ran a hand over the back of his neck, where actual goosebumps refused to go away. “Maybe.”

She was about to reach for his hand again when he stood, and left the couch to turn the light on. They both heard the click of a door after that.

Elena went quietly into the bathroom, stopping by to see them on her way back to bed. “Goodnight, Mom,” she said through a yawn. “G’night, Schneider.”

“Night, baby.”

“See you in the morning, Elena,” Schneider added with a smile, and Elena nodded.

Then she came back, looking slightly more awake, and whispered in Penelope’s ear before leaving again.

The grin that spread slowly across Penelope’s face in response was almost as terrifying as the movie they’d just finished watching.

“Pen?” He ventured. “What was that?”

“Oh, my daughter was just reminding me that there’s one more sleepover game we have to play. The night won’t be complete without it--and after that movie, it’s the perfect time.”

Schneider shifted on his feet. “What is it?”

“Bloody Mary.”

“Uh.” He took a step back automatically, and Penelope smiled even wider. “Uh, that sounds kind of…”

“Scary? It’s supposed to be. But Elena was right, it’s a truly classic sleepover game. We should play it.”

Figuring nothing could be worse then what they’d already watched, Schneider offered her a small smile. “Okay. What do we do?”

“It’s pretty simple. I’ll grab what we need. Go wait for me in the bathroom, it’s got the biggest mirror,” Penelope declared.

Schneider was bewildered by that detail, but he followed her to the hall and then stood in the bathroom. When she followed him, she turned the light off and closed the door, plunging them into darkness. He froze, surrounded by black. “What’s happening?”

She was silent for a while, letting the tension build, just like the moment called for. She could sense Schneider growing more nervous as the darkness stretched between them with no sound.

“Penelope?” She felt his fingers brush her arm, seeking her out.

Penelope laid her hand on top of his so he would know she was close, before she began telling the story in a quiet voice that echoed against the tile in the bathroom.

“According to the legend, there was once a woman named Mary…”

She couldn’t remember at this point who had first told her the version of Bloody Mary that she knew, but like old commercial jingles, it was a remnant of childhood she had no reason to appreciate until now, with her hand resting on his in the small, dark space.

Listening to Schneider’s breathing hitch and speed up as she did her best to make the tragic tale of a murdered young woman as terrifying as possible, Penelope was glad it had lodged itself in the recesses of her brain.

If she played her cards right, she might even get a scream out of him, she thought with wicked satisfaction as her storytelling came to an end.

“So...is that it?” He asked hopefully when her silence filled the room again.

“Now,” she told him, moving close so that he would be able to hear her whisper, “we call for Mary to come to us.”

“What?” Slipping his fingers out from under hers, Schneider closed the distance between them, finding her with his hands.

“That’s the game.” She steadied her own breathing, hoping to avoid embarrassing herself once his hands were lightly holding onto her shoulders. Under different circumstances, this would be a perfect romantic moment. They were so close that all it would take was him leaning down, or her raising herself up on her toes...get it together, Penelope.

“We stand in front of the mirror using only this flashlight, and we say her name three times. According to the legend, saying Bloody Mary three times in front of a mirror in the dark will summon her spirit.”

“Cool, cool, cool,” Schneider said, trying to seem not at all concerned. “Sounds fun.”

Penelope flicked the switch on the flashlight, both of them blinking as it illuminated them standing face to face next to the shower. Schneider let go of her, they both turned toward the mirror and she tilted the flashlight up between them.

“A candle would’ve been better,” she told him as the steady beam of light moved in her hand. “The flickering creates atmosphere.”

“I think this is fine,” he replied, staring at her in the mirror.

He refused to look anywhere else. Not at the shadows surrounding them or the things in the bathroom that were now foreign and vaguely menacing--even his own face looked more villainous in this light. But Penelope was safe.

She was always a light in the darkness.

“Okay, so we just say her name three times?”

“Yes. We’ll take turns,” she decided, her eyes on his in the dimly lit mirror. After a slow, measured breath, she looked away to an empty part of the wall behind them, inside the mirror.

“Bloody Mary.”

Nothing happened.

Of course nothing happened, Schneider corrected himself immediately after the thought hit his brain. What could happen? It wasn’t like he actually believed in vengeful ghosts.

But still, when it was his turn, he hesitated. Penelope nodded encouragingly, and he responded with a quiet “Bloody Mary” directed at the mirror between their heads.

“You’ve played this game before, right?” He asked before she could take her final turn. “When you used to have sleepovers, that’s how you know it?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Nothing--nothing ever happened, right? You never saw her.”

“Well, it was a long time ago, now.” Penelope grinned when her evasive reply resulted in an audible gulp from him. “No, I never saw her. That doesn’t mean some of us didn’t pretend we did. It’s a sleepover game, remember? Made for impressionable preteens--and apparently, sensitive 40-year olds,” she added.

“Okay. Okay. Sorry. It was just a really scary movie,” he said in a rush. “Let’s go.”

“You’re ready?”

He stood a little taller beside her, pinning his gaze just above her head in the mirror. “Ready.”

“Good.” Penelope straightened up too, looking to the right of their reflections and letting a hush descend over them again.

Once things were so still she could hear Schneider’s breathing rise and fall like a distant ocean, she watched the mirror, unblinking, and said firmly, “Bloody Mary.”

As if on cue, the flashlight in her hand flickered and went out, dropping them back into darkness.

Schneider didn’t scream, but he did start to nearly hyperventilate next to her. “Penelope?” He sounded like a kid again, which was the exact point of this sleepover idea of hers. It felt like a success now.

“I’m here,” she replied, matching his whisper with her own.

“Oh, good.” He reached out, this time brushing her bare arm with his fingertips and letting them slide down until his hand found hers.

His fingers along her skin left warmth in their wake and she tried not to read too much into the fact that Schneider was holding her hand now. He must just have a fear of the dark she didn’t know about, to match his fear of spiders.

“Did you do that with the flashlight?”

“No! God, Schneider,” she replied, more harshly than she meant to. She could feel his pulse next to hers and her skin was tingling in the most ridiculous way.

“So it just...died.” Like Bloody Mary, she could imagine him mentally adding, and she held back a chuckle.

“I’m sure it was just a fluke,” she told him.

Schneider was frozen beside her, his hand hot in hers, and breathing a little shakily in the dark. She faced him without letting go. “Anyway, we played the game. No Bloody Mary. Just a flashlight malfunction.”

“Right.” He shifted toward her too, their bare feet nearly touching on the chilly bathroom floor. He made no move to leave.

Just for a second, she let herself pretend. Her kids weren’t asleep down the hall, and Schneider wasn’t somebody she had known for so long that she could never be more than a friend to him. Instead, he was a guy standing so close to her in the dark that she could practically feel him breathing, the rhythm of his heart matching hers where their palms met.

She couldn’t see him, not even in shadows. She could only feel him there, too close for her to pretend she didn’t have feelings that went way beyond being best friends.

In that moment, the one weak moment she allowed herself to have before she cleared her throat and let go, Penelope just wanted to jump him and see what happened next.

Schneider wasn’t sure exactly how they came to be holding hands in the dark bathroom, even though he was the one who had reached for her. It was a reflex, something he regretted as soon as he calmed down enough to realize he was crossing a line.

She didn’t get mad at him, though, and that was when his panic got even worse, because he and Penelope were holding hands. They were just standing there, holding hands. She wasn’t saying anything, and he couldn’t think of an explanation or an apology that wouldn’t sound super lame, and he somehow couldn’t manage to let go either...and she just kept standing there holding his hand.

He was too busy mentally freaking out to wonder why she didn’t say anything. When she let go, he breathed out his relief and was grateful that she moved away from him to turn the light back on.

Not that he was still terrified of the darkness surrounding them.

He was scared that if she hadn’t moved, he would have--and it would not have meant putting distance between them.

If not for Penelope snapping him out of the moment, he might have done something really stupid.

“I’m going to turn in,” Penelope said as they returned to the living room, her voice overly casual. “We managed to fit a lot of sleepover fun into one night.”

Tired was the last thing Schneider could claim to be, but he nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Penelope frowned at him, wondering why he said it like it was a question. The plan had always been for him to sleep on the couch; it’s not like it would be the first time. “Yeah,” she said after a long pause. “See you in the morning. We’ll make the kids breakfast.”

He settled on the couch and she went to her room, wondering how the night shifted so quickly from fun to awkward.

Schneider had been too close for too long, she decided as she drifted into sleep. Once he went home in the morning, everything would go back to normal.

****

Penelope woke up just after 2am, warm and thirsty. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb Schneider where he slept, but her dry throat was trying to turn into a coughing fit and she had no choice.

She made her way to the kitchen using the dim light from the window, and soundlessly retrieved a glass. There was nothing she could do about the noise of the water when she turned on the sink, though, and she almost dropped the glass when she heard Schneider’s quiet words float her way.

“Penelope, is that you?”

Sipping her water, she went to where he was sitting without his glasses on, looking flushed and sweaty. “Schneider? What are you doing up?”

“Had a nightmare. Well, several nightmares. Lots of headless children,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut like he could will the images away. “It wouldn’t stop, and I just…”

“You couldn’t get back to sleep?”

“No. I didn’t want to. Not after that.”

“Understandable,” she said, setting her glass down. “You want some water? Or a cookie?”

The corners of his mouth tipped up, but it wasn’t a real smile. His eyes remained haunted.

“You know,” he told her softly, “the hard part isn’t even the creepy nightmares. Everybody has nightmares, and once I’m awake I should be fine. Right?”

“I guess,” she said slowly, wondering where his train of thought was heading.

“Well, I’m not fine. I am so very far from fine.”

There was a bitter edge to his voice, one that worried her because it sounded nothing like Schneider. Not her Schneider, who was so easygoing and optimistic. Somehow she doubted this was really about a movie.

“Schneider, what’s wrong?”

“Waking up from a nightmare is like getting a phone call from Father, or finding out my ‘80s Aerobics instructor quit to move to Portland. Big or small, anything bad that happens, the first thing I think is always, ‘Wow, I really need a drink right now.’”

“Oh, Schneider.” She moved in to hug him, and he let her, but he was rigid and didn’t hug back.

“No matter what I do, Pen, for the rest of life, I will never not be an addict. And being reminded of that is worse than whatever made me remember. So no, I’m probably not going back to sleep. Not for a while, anyway.”

He ran a hand over his shadowed face and she shifted so that she was half-cuddling him, trying to offer whatever comfort she could. Schneider rested his forehead against hers and took a deep breath. Slowly in, count to seven, slowly out.

“Should you call your sponsor?” She pulled back to search his face. “Not that I’m not here for you, you know I am, but I want you to be okay.”

“I texted him. I’m okay,” he replied. “I’m just gonna...hang. Here, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind! You’re not going anywhere,” she declared, taking his hand and gripping it as though she could anchor him with it. “What do you want to do until you’re ready to go back to sleep?”

“Huh?” He blinked at her.

“Should we find a board game after all?” She smiled at his baffled expression. “Or maybe watch a movie, one with a happy ending?”

“Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture,” he said seriously, “but you should go back to bed. Both of us don’t need to be exhausted in the morning.”

“It is the morning,” she pointed out. “And I’m not going anywhere either, until you can look me in the eye and not be seeing your nightmares.” Or your personal demons, she added silently.

He looked like he wanted to argue, but it only took a few seconds of her staring him down for Schneider to relax back against the couch and nod. “Yeah, okay. A movie sounds good. Something funny.”

They kept the volume low so they wouldn’t wake the kids, and tried to do the same with their voices, but they talked their way through most of the first comedy that Penelope put on. Schneider picked the next movie, and she raised an eyebrow at him when his selection was Dirty Dancing.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve just always liked it. It’s fun.”

“Yeah, it is.” She grinned at him and settled in, wishing that she had the right to move over and tuck herself under his arm. If the moment they'd had in the bathroom was charged with an intense energy she didn’t want to think about too much, this one was somehow more intimate than that.

Watching a classic romance while the world slept around them, hyperaware of everything about him while he sat next to her on the couch--it felt a lot like a date.

****

Despite the fact that she actually liked Dirty Dancing, Penelope fell asleep halfway through it.

In her defense, it was 4:30 in the morning and she and Schneider had settled into a comfortable silence. She didn’t realize it had grown too comfortable until she woke up, her face pillowed on his shoulder while he watched the movie as though everything was normal.

“Hey,” he whispered when she turned her face to him, swimming back to consciousness. Schneider smiled, looking like himself again, and she couldn’t decide between smiling back and apologizing for sleeping on him.

When she started to sit up, he took her hand. “You don’t have to move,” he told her, his eyes returning to the screen.

“But--”

“It’s nice,” Schneider said simply. There was such vulnerable sincerity in those two words that Penelope couldn’t make herself do what she knew she should.

Instead, she laid her head back down, watching the movie while his thumb began rubbing gentle circles into the back of her hand.

He still seemed alert, in that anxious way that had less to do with really being awake and everything to do with trying to avoid something. She understood that on a level so deep that it hurt, and wondered if he had trouble sleeping this way a lot--like she did. Little hints he dropped into conversation sometimes, underneath his cheerful demeanor, made her think so.

Maybe that was why it felt like the most natural thing in the world to tip her face up again, memorizing the laugh lines around his eyes and the way his lips curved in response to a joke onscreen.

With the flickering light beaming out from the television, Penelope studied Schneider like he was a map to some place she had yet to see but desperately wanted to find. When he looked back, his irises absorbed the darkness around them until they were almost violet.

“Pen?” He watched her watch him, waiting for an explanation. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” she told him honestly, biting down on her bottom lip and seeing his gaze flick to it. “What about you?”

Schneider wasn’t sure why she was looking at him like that, but he answered her question as though it made perfect sense. “Can’t say I enjoyed the nightmares, but otherwise it’s been a pretty perfect night. I’m good.”

She smiled. “So you enjoyed your first sleepover?”

“Definitely.” Penelope was still resting against him, her big brown eyes on his, and the words just slipped out. “Especially this part.”

She let out the tiniest breath, almost like a gasp, and he couldn’t have explained why but it felt like the ground beneath them shifted. Just a little, just enough to make her hand in his more than the comforting gesture of a friend.

“You like Dirty Dancing that much, huh?” she asked, and he realized her face was even closer to his. Usually if she was only a few inches away from him, she was angry--from this distance, he had never gotten the chance before to appreciate the arch of her eyebrow or the way she had a hint of dimples even when she wasn’t smiling.

And she wasn’t smiling at all now, her eyes dropping to his mouth before she gripped his hand a little harder. He wondered if she even realized she was doing that.

“It’s-it’s a really good movie,” he managed, trying desperately to figure out what was happening. He knew what it felt like--what he would assume it was with any other woman looking at him that way, her body so close to his that he was starting to feel flushed again.

But this was Penelope.

How badly he wished it were true made him even more certain that it couldn’t be. He squeezed her hand and let go, hoping that distance would settle down the feelings that had risen up to nearly blind him.

Penelope removed her head from his shoulder, but she didn’t move back to her couch cushion. Instead she stayed pressed into his side, tilting her head as she looked at him.

“Schneider?”

“Yeah?”

“Truth or dare?”

He was about to laugh, but she wasn’t kidding. As a dance montage played in the background, he considered it. “Truth.”

“What are you thinking about in this exact moment?”

Things I can’t have.

“Dare,” he replied out loud, and Penelope nodded as though that was the answer she expected.

She took a deep breath before she gave him his dare, and then delivered it with a smile. “The last thing you wanted to do, and didn’t? Do it now.”

She couldn’t know, he thought, his heart speeding up. There was no way she knew what she was asking of him.

But it wasn’t just the last thing he wanted; it was still what he wanted. It had kind of been what he wanted for a long time now--and Penelope was still smiling at him, sharing his personal space, waiting.

If only he was better in a crisis, he would have already thought of an easy lie to tell. Anything else. A way out. Instead, his mind was completely blank, wiped clean by the scent of her, her smooth curls brushing his neck.

Penelope’s lips parted softly while she waited, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring. Her voice when she spoke again was warmer than he had ever heard it.

“Schneider...I dare you.”

****

He kissed her even though he knew it was a terrible idea, even though he couldn’t believe she was inviting him to.

She was softer than she looked, sweet in a way he thought he could get addicted to more easily than gambling or snow globes. Penelope kissed him back with her whole body, her hands in his hair and her chest pressed to his, moving against him like she’d been craving him for a lifetime.

It felt as though they went from tentatively exploring each others’ mouths to making out on the couch in record time, but somehow an hour passed and they were still kissing.

She was breathless when she finally pulled away, running her fingers down his neck to enjoy the ripple of muscles in his back. He arched into her hands and she grinned.

“We’re going to be so tired in the morning,” Penelope told him, biting down on a moan when his teeth found her neck. She would feel embarrassed about the intensity of her reaction to him, but honestly, she had been keeping her feelings bottled up for too long; what did she think was going to happen?

“It already is morning,” Schneider reminded her, tracing the mark he left with his tongue. Her hair would cover it as long as she wore it down, so he tried not to feel guilty, though he hadn’t intended to leave a mark at all.

Penelope almost lost her mind when he ran his hands up her stomach, his fingers on her ribcage, curving just below her breasts. God, it had been way too long since...and Schneider knew her so well it was like he had a sixth sense about what she wanted.

She only stopped herself from straddling him and upping the stakes because she never knew when a teenager might be opening a bedroom door...and because it didn’t matter how good he'd turned out be with his hands, and teeth, and tongue. It was too soon.

She sat back after a few more heated minutes, leaving his mouth pink and the sensitive skin below his right ear with a bruise of his own. “You’re right,” she said. “Look, the sun’s coming up.”

Schneider tangled his fingers with hers, watching them link and unlink. “Will the kids want breakfast soon?”

“Yeah, probably pretty soon. An hour, hour and a half.” She caught something cross his face and tugged on their joined hands. “Why?”

“Oh. I just wasn’t sure...if you still want me here. When they get up. For breakfast and all that.”

Penelope’s eyes flashed, and when she seemed like she might actually smack him, it was more comforting than her words, because it was evidence of just how much she cared. “Don’t be stupid, Schneider. Of course I want you to stay.”

The doubt in his eyes didn’t completely clear out, leaving them stormy and watchful.

“Come here,” she murmured, pulling him into a long, slow kiss. By the time they came up for air again, Schneider was too dazed to remember what he’d been worried about.

“Now, I figured pancakes,” Penelope told him. “Or maybe French toast. Something you can handle helping me with.”

“Hey,” he protested, “you make it sound like I can’t cook! I can cook. Especially breakfast.”

“Yeah, okay, Schneider. You’re a master in the kitchen. Sure.”

“I didn’t say I was amazing, but I can make some things. Breakfast’s kind of important if you want to impress overnight guests,” he pointed out.

“I guess you’re right.” She kissed him once more, this time teasing his tongue with hers until he was the one who needed to hold back from taking things too far. The sun was truly rising now, washing over them on the couch. Casting everything in a different light.

“After we tell the kids, and my mom,” Penelope said, resting her hand against his cheek, “we should go out to dinner or something.”

His whole face lit up, brighter than the golden glow spreading through the apartment. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

The brush of her lips over his was so light, it wasn't quite a kiss. It was more like a promise.

“Then maybe you can make me breakfast.”

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