#pick a luxury fashion brand reading

[foreverisntenough]

- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestions, smut love bombing, occasionally sad, and kind of angst- not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

INDEX

Chapter 19 - ‘You’re Mine’

You were not as hopeless as your inner dialogue made you sound. You missed Trent so much your little heart hurt but you could live. You were busy with an array of things, you had gotten really active in local charities in Liverpool and initiatives especially Trent’s latest project launch. You had a degree from university that you didn’t really share with a lot of people around you but Trent obviously knew about it so your skill set came in handy. With the spare time you had you reached out to some contacts from your previous jobs you had put on hold back in New York. At the time you met Trent you were taking a little hiatus to just decompress. You were privileged enough to do that and well aware that is not something everyone could have the luxury of doing so once you got settled in England you started to connect with brands you worked with in the US that had UK offices. You got back into work freelance writing and styling. Your career before was in Fashion Editorial so it was an easy transition to get back into the swing of things. It made you feel better you were able to have a life outside of being Trent’s number one fan, even though that often was your favorite thing to be occupied with. Thankfully the two, Trent and work, were kept separated for the moment.

Before the tournament actually began you found that the little T- Bear Trent left for you just seemed to be with you 24/7. Tucked in bed with you every night, snuggled up on the couch watching television and as wonderful as that was, there was a certain part that this ‘T’ wasn’t able to… how do you put this… fulfill.

You were just about to whine down from the day but your hair and makeup were still done so you decided to take a few cheeky photos. A client, Agent Provocateur, a brand you adored, from an editorial piece you had worked on recently with them had gifted you some pieces of gorgeous lingerie. So you put on a little pink satin trimmed lace bra with a matching thong. The goal was to entice Trent obviously, but aside from that this set was making you feel confident which you seemed to be struggling with lately. You took some photos with the whole set on, some taking it off, some with it barely serving any purpose all while holding your new little bear. It was an incredibly sweet concept but far from innocent. You picked your favorites, ones you knew showed off things he’d enjoy so you sent them in a text unsolicited and unprovoked as you tucked into bed for the night. The little ‘delivered’ popped up under the sent photos and it quickly turned to ‘read.’ You knew he’d be excited to see them but there was always a little part of you that worried about how you actually looked in them, if he’d like them, and then of course about the potential consequences of sending such explicit photos when he’s at ‘work’ so you held your breath. He started to type and the three dots in the bubble appeared but stopped, started again only to disappear once again. The brief moment of confidence you had built started to waver. While you laid in your bed, a little disheartened, you put your phone far away from you to try to forget the situation until you heard the familiar ring of an incoming FaceTime.

“You’re such a tease, baby.” Trent rolled his perfect plump lips into a pout shaking his head but couldn’t really hold back the lustful grin he was really expressing. “I have training early tomorrow and you got me so fucking hard I can’t possibly get to sleep now.” He groaned. You sighed in relief that he did in fact really like your pictures.

“I’m sorry, T. I didn’t mean to bother you. I was just trying some things on and I thought you’d want to see. I didn’t mean to disrupt your night.” You feigned an apology playing coy.

“Nah, nah, nah you got me all worked up, miles away, sending me something I can’t have right now. You’re staying on the phone right now, helping me with this.” He sounded so commanding and it turned you on instantly.

“What can I help with, baby? To help, do you need me to keep this on or take it off?” You pulled the bra strap off your body to let it snap back against your skin.

“I wanna see more of you, beautiful. Take that off…Save that for when I can rip it off you myself and put your phone somewhere. I need to see all of you.” He instructed you so you leaned back against your headboard in front of your now propped up phone.

“This okay?” You asked craving his approval.

“Yeah, baby, just like that. You wanna spread your legs for me? Show me how wet you are.” He confirmed that was what he wanted to see. He began to stroke his cock from the tip to the base. His command had you stifling a moan.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. I miss you so much, T” you whimpered waiting for instructions till he asked for you to touch your clit, and then slowly slide your fingers into yourself. Just watching his cock get harder, hearing him pant on the other side of your phone had you inching closer to your release.

“Keep fucking that pussy,” he groaned. “Yeah, just like that, little faster, baby. Use your other hand and rub that clit again. Tell me how much you miss my cock.” His words had you crumbling. It was a cross between complete desperation, lust, and absence.

“I mi-miss it. I want your cock to fuck me, please. Ple..please I need your cock, T.” You whined. The tension and pressure released all at once causing you to whimper louder as waves of pleasure rippled through you. Your fingers coated in your slick. You couldn’t take your eyes off the screen, Trent repeatedly moaning your name as ropes of his cum spurted from his cock covering his abs. When you both came to, you smiled and wiggled in your bed giggling with him happy to feel the release but also to have achieved making him feel good from miles away.

“Fuck, that was so hot, you’re so beautiful, baby.” Trent said, laughing a little more while he cleaned himself up.

“I love you. Miss having you here with me so much.” You pouted. “Going to be able to sleep now?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll be okay now, thank you.” He chuckled. “I’ll be saving those pictures though, I might need them till I get you back.”

“Yeah, yeah but I think a call may be a little more mutually beneficial.” You giggled. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Love you, pretty girl. Miss you so much. Night.” Pushing his lips out for a virtual kiss before he hung up the phone.

A week later and many similar FaceTimes, you and Dianne were going to the Euro’s. You were traveling for the first match of the tournament. You and Dianne had a great relationship. You had essentially become like a daughter. She spoiled you, she always defended you against the boys teasing, you spent a lot of time shopping together or sitting pitch side. You appreciated her so much for all she did for you since you arrived in Liverpool and loved the idea of a little trip together. You checked into a lovely hotel and settled into your separate rooms but planned to meet up for a breakfast in the morning before you headed off for the stadium tomorrow.

It was the opening match of the group stage and the place was buzzing. You hadn’t seen England play in a big tournament like this yet as Trent’s girlfriend so you didn’t really know what to expect. You hoped you had adapted to life as a ‘wag’ at Liverpool but this was a whole new lot. You had made friends with a few girls you’d met at international friendly matches, the boys you knew on the team, and were excited to be able to see some girls from Liverpool whose partners were playing for other countries. That said as much as you had watched the Euros countless times before, to be there felt so strange. Thank god Dianne was with you. You both had opted to match in Alexander-Arnold white England kit shirts. You kept your outfit pretty casual not wanting to draw too much attention given the mayhem that seemed to be ensuing lately with your every move relatively near a football pitch. ‘Casual’ is all relative though when you are a little bit of a fashion girly so; you paired T’s jersey with R13 Crossover denim shorts, white and gray Prada ‘Downtown’ sneakers, a Mui Mui gray fleece hoodie in case you got cold, your new, very sweetly gifted, navy Dior saddle bag and what felt like just about every piece of gold jewelry you owned; you’d be remiss to not be wearing your prized possession; the white gold diamond Van Clef necklace Trent gave you when he asked you to be his girlfriend. That was always going to be on and the myriad of other little bits and bobs of jewelry he'd given you over time. You liked the look, it felt authentically you: low key but if you looked close enough the finer details told another story and you liked that.

You promised Dianne you’d help up her ‘MaG’ match day fits. You two had started an inside joke considering you were Mum and Girlfriend for Trent in the stands. It was cute and you were elated to help. Outside the stadium, you stopped a girl around your age to take a photo for you with Dianne to keep for a memory and you got that special photo but it also transgressed into plenty of questions because the girl was a fan which was sweet but in turn the exchange was shared to your least favorite part of the internet lately… social football gossip pages.

‘Okay, ICL, Trent Alexander-Arnold’s mum and his presumed girlfriend holding hands walking into the stadium was precious. The mystery girl is definitely no mystery to the fam’

The girl who kindly took a photo for you outside the stadium had also shared with a fan page another photo she had taken unsolicited as you walked away with Dianne.

Dianne held onto your hand still as you walked through the corridors of the stadium while masses of people swirled around you. It was insane. Complete chaos. A familiar chaos, but chaos nonetheless. England had a strong team this year and people were excited to say the least. You made it to your seats and your heart filled with relief seeing the tan skinned pretty pretty boy, smiling beaming, warming up ahead of the match. You leaned onto Diane’s shoulder in repose.

“It’s the best feeling in the world seeing him happy doing what he loves.” Leaning her head on top of yours.

“I know, I feel lucky I get to witness it. Even just to be a small part of the whole experience.”

“Hun, you’re a big part. Things changed when you came to England for him. He’s emotionally never been in a better place.” She cooed.

“I hope so, I just want to be there for him as much as I can. I try not to let my emotions ever sway his, like when I miss him. I don’t know how you’ve done this for so long.” You joked a little because you referring to ‘so long’ was really in reference to from birth to this very moment and having to share her son globally.

“One thing I always know, he does miss us when he’s away. He doesn’t need to tell us but you know he will always, even as focused as he is for work. More specifically, he misses you sweetheart…so much.” She placed a kiss on head. “You make that boy's life outside of all this so much better for him. Easier, happier, calmer, healthier, I could go on… so thank you hun.” Her words had your heart bursting. You always had an open relationship but to get such a verbal confirmation felt really nice.

When a Trent fan account finally published the photo of you and Dianne walking into the stadium together the response was different to the usual wrath of hate you’d receive from the public on the likes of gossip news sites. Instead these fans were enthused by the sighting. Commenting…

‘I feel like she’s probably super sweet if she’s that close with his mum’

‘Seeing her with his family makes me feel like she’s actually a serious girlfriend’

‘Okay, ngl, she actually looks too cool for him lol’

‘Matching with his mum is so precious’

‘Imagine Trent being your boyfriend 😭’

‘She’s with his mum 🥺’

You couldn’t have asked for a better opening match. England dominated and Trent got a decent amount of minutes and during his time on the pitch he managed to assist Bukaya for an unbelievable goal. It was just icing on the cake to see him after a couple weeks, have the result go their way, and to have him play well. When the final whistle blew it was such a special feeling being surrounded by people who all felt just the same as you. It was a big family just supporting boys that had worked so tirelessly to get here, to represent their country. When the team had wrapped up some post match duties they were able to come over to the stands to meet up with their families after the stadium had cleared out. Trent walked over with a smile that made your heart melt. You leaned over the railing to give him the biggest kiss. His arms reached up to grab your face, yours falling around his neck. You both hummed at the satisfaction of being back together. The kiss felt like fireworks for you, your whole body ignited feeling his lips on yours. Trent’s body on the other hand fell into complete comfort and relaxation soothed by your touch.

“Missed you so much, baby.” He whispered his lips ghosting over yours.

“My T” you giggled, pressing one more peck before pulling apart.

“Lemme climb on up, pretty girl.” He needed to get off the pitch over into the stands so he did haphazardly because his body was exhausted.

“You were amazing, sweetie. So proud of you Trenty.” Dianne cooed, giving him a big tight hug. Diane stayed standing but Trent collapsed onto a seat in the stands burnt out.

“T, honestly so good. You were incredible.” Leaning over to give him another kiss. You sat next to him and he wrapped his arms around your waist and laid his head onto your shoulder. He pressed light kisses to it and you did the same to his temple. Dianne stood there talking to you both about the match before going over to talk to Jude Bellingham’s mum, Denise, after spotting her now the match had finished. With the idea of being alone with you, despite being surrounded by friends, family and teammates, Trent sprawled out across a row of seats and laid his head in your lap. You caressed his face and played with his hair while you two gushed about how much you missed each other. He was practically stuck to you. He couldn’t pull his hands or lips off your skin if he tried. Kissing your wrists as they moved over his face, pulling your face down for proper kisses every once in a while, purring as your nails scratched his scalp.

“Trent, come here quick.” Dianne yelled for him evoking a disgruntled face on the boy who had gotten quite comfortable back under your touch. So he stood up and made his way over to talk to the two mums. Despite telling him you’d stay put, he dragged you with him, pushing you in front of him while his hands wrapped around your waist. He kept his chin on your shoulder listening to his mum while his idle fingers played with the belt loops of your shorts. You introduced yourself to Denise who was as kind as her sons were. You’d met and spent a lot of time with both her boys since you moved to England, knowing how polite they were, it made sense she’d be that way as well.

“Going to do a lunch after the group stage with them, five of us, yeah?” Dianne was informing you and Trent about a plan she and Denise had made to go out before the England Team were hosting a little party for all the families.

“That sounds lovely!” You cheerfully smiled liking the idea of getting time together away from other than just seeing the boys from a distance on the pitch. Trent didn’t say anything, he just smiled seeing you smile. He missed the way your cheeks warmed when you did. Jude waddled his way up the stairs of the seats sore from the game coming up to you all, first giving a hug and kiss to his mum, then to Diane and then looked at you, smiled, and then rolled his eyes at Trent who was lost still gazing at you.

“Gonna let go for a minute so we can all say hello?” Jude joked removing Trent’s hands stuck to your body.

“Hi Judey” you giggled giving him a big hug. Lately he and Trent were together most of the time when league play was suspended for breaks and he found himself back in England so you had gotten close. He was coming on your holiday after the tournament. The holiday had funnily become a little bit of a boys trip that included you and your best friend, but moreover Trent obviously, Marcel was coming, Jude, and Jobe, his brother, had decided to tag along, and then a few other boys. You didn’t mind but it was a little comical now. Jude could sense the humor in it and knew your relationship well enough that you just were dying to be laying on the beach with Trent, alone, unbothered, but that more than likely wouldn’t be the case now.

“All good? Ready for this to be over?” You pulled out of his hug rolling your eyes at his comment as he sat down in front of you leaning on the back of a seat a row below you.

“What do you mean! Very excited to be here for the next two weeks” you beamed sarcastically.

“It worries me how good you are at lying. It’s unsettling for my brother” he shoved at your shoulder while glancing at Trent.

“No, seriously! I am actually really excited. This is amazing though. You played so well, lucky to be supporting England.” You clarified.

“Yeah, just don’t open your mouth too much and you might pass as one of us.” Jude teased about your accent but was quickly reprimanded by Denise. She scolded Jude telling him to be nicer and you just smiled relishing in the mum's protection over you.

The boys had to go back to the dressing room after getting to say hello which was bittersweet and came all too quickly. Luckily in a few days time they’d be out of the group stages and would have a few days off so you could see Trent then but right now you had to say bye.

“Call me tonight?” You cooed, draping your arms around Trent’s neck, his arms coming to drop low on your waist pulling his jersey you had on up to caress your skin, dipping his hands into your shorts slyly.

“Course, baby. I’m just so glad you’re here.” He whispered, pulling your body a little closer to his pushing his hips into you.

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else, T.” You quietly said back pressing your nose against his.

“Love you, beautiful” he said with a little peck to your lips.

“I love you.” You sealed with another kiss. Your focus only on each other.

“Honestly, enough. I’m going without you.” Jude dramatically but in, hitting Trent’s arm before proceeding to stand up. Trent said goodbye to the mums, and you again with another swift but sweet kiss and a sneaky squeeze to your ass cheek before hurrying after Jude. He turned and winked at you before disappearing down the tunnel.

Later that evening, the England Instagram account posted a carousel of families reuniting after the first win of the tournament. None directly featured you, Diane or Trent but behind a photo posted of the Bellingham family were you and Trent having a cuddle while sharing a sweet kiss. There definitely was a fair share of comments who caught the affectionate interaction. In turn, cropped images of the photo, zooming in on you two, blew up all over socials again,

‘They’re not even trying anymore lol’

‘I’m happy for them 🥹’

‘Trent, I don’t need to see you cheating on me like this’

‘To kiss that sweaty man, I’d die’

‘Still just avoiding cameras, like fam, we know your together lol’

You and Diane continued going to the remaining group stage matches with England performing well. Trent even bagging a goal so the brief moments seeing him after the games were just so special. Being so close but unable to properly be alone and cuddle or kiss was slightly driving you both insane. So you spent the nights apart FaceTiming only mere hotels, short distances apart. Trent would vent about the games and you listened intently trying your best to not add unnecessary additions to the already noisy commentary he was surrounded by, you’d joke around, if there wasn’t a game directly the following day, things would get a little steamier on the call but overall you just repeated how much you missed being back at home together. More often than not you two just stayed on the phone till you both fell asleep making one of you wake up hours later and having to end the call that had been ongoing for hours of just your sleeping faces lit by phone screens.

As expected the England team finished top of their group so they were to have a few days off before the knockout stage began which meant you got to spend some time with your T. He did have to go to a short morning training session after last night's game but he was coming to meet you and his mum at your hotel to see you both after. You always grappled with sharing Trent but his mom was an exception, she deserved all his time and attention so you were hoping for a little sliver. He met you later in the day after the training session in a tea room of the hotel you and Dianne were staying at and joined you for brunch. Somehow if it was even possible, Trent walked in and looked even more beautiful than he ever did. He seemed to have that effect on you. It didn’t matter if it had been 5 minutes when he’d walk to the kitchen and back or days since you last saw him but when he’d return he somehow looked even more handsome than before. His mum stayed seated and she gave him a little side hug. You opted to stand up to give him a tight hug, you missed his warm embrace. He wrapped his arms around you and his familiar amber smell engulfed you. You could’ve stayed there forever. You kissed his neck gently, subtly, and quietly to keep it hidden from his mum but Trent wasn’t having that.

“Erm…I’d like a proper kiss, beautiful.” He beamed with a big smile, his lips pushing out waiting for you. His hands slid up from around your waist to hold both your cheeks. He placed a heart stopping kiss on your lips and you felt your legs almost give out. He was like a dream all the time. You finally sat and had a nice little meal filled with conversation more so about what was happening back at home than football, he wanted the break from the intensity. When Dianne excused herself to run to the restroom, Trent pulled your chair a little closer to his. He placed another kiss on your cheek.

“What’d you doing, pretty boy?” You cooed, unable to hide the smile he was pulling from you and the flush rising in your cheeks smitten by his flirty move.

“Wanna be closer to my girl” his hand came and wrapped around the back of your neck stroking his thumb over your exposed skin. In your Trents true fashion he had shown up with a little gift for you. “Got you a little something, baby.”

“T!! You don’t always have to do this!” You quipped in feigned annoyance. You gestured to the Dior Saddle bag you were using today again but it still always was a little exciting “I don’t need anything. I just need this.” You said, moving your hand over his resting on his leg, playing with each of his fingers slowly. It was true, just being close to him was enough for you but nevertheless he pulled out a little box.

“Just so you don’t forget where you’re loyaly lies on match days, yeah?” You opened the little jewelry box that had a Monica Rich Kosann locket that opened with two little pictures; one of you and T hugging in the tunnel at Anfield in his Liverpool kit, the other of you and him sharing a cute kiss in his England uniform. It just made you melt. He was so thoughtful and cute. “I know you're technically only half American but don’t you forget whose you are, beautiful. You’re all mine.”

“I’m pretty sure I know who I’ll be rooting for always. Always yours.” You said giggling, “but thank you, baby. I love it and I love you” leaning your head on his shoulder nuzzling into that familiar smell as his arm wrapped around you. He pressed light kisses on your head while you whispered little mushy things back and forth. When Dianne returned she smiled entering the main room seeing that her departure caused your chairs to move inexplicably closer. She liked to see that her very reserved boy found someone to be so comfortable, protective, confident and unequivocally in love with. She sat back down but it wasn’t long until she excused herself again.

“I need a little rest, a shower, and some time to get ready for tonight to keep up my ‘MaG’ looks so I’m going to head up.” She stood up from the table, placing her napkin down, pushing her chair in and placing her hand gently on yours briefly.

“MaG?” Trent questioned, looking between you and his mum for some context on the inside joke he was clearly left out of.

“Don’t worry about it” you laughed in Dianne’s direction telling her if she needed you to text you but she just wanted to let you and Trent to spend some time alone together.

“Thank you hun!” She kissed Trent’s head and squeezed your arm. “I’ll see you both a little later on before we meet with Denise and her boys.” You said your goodbyes but you stayed a little longer cuddled up as close as you can be in a restaurant setting picking at little sandwiches and sweets. Eventually, Trent and you finally left and went up to your room where he dramatically crashed on the bed, rushing to get under the covers like a little boy because he was ‘so tired.’

“T! T! Shoes! Gross!” You squealed, pulling at his arms to get him out and off your freshly cleaned hotel bedding.

“Wowwwww already asking me to take my clothes off. Eager much, baby?” He teased starting to get out of the bed begrudgingly.

“No…no, well” you blushed at his words. “I wouldn’t complain but I just meant if you could not get my bed all dirty I would appreciate it” you gave a genuine smile and a sweet giggle that made his heart falter.

“So you don’t want to be dirty in bed?” he sat up on the bed with a cheeky and devious smile, his legs hung off the side and he held his arms out for you. You moved over and stood between his legs, his hands caressed up your back pulling your shirt up with them, “With me? Not even me baby?” He gave you a look that made you cave immediately. You let him pull your shirt off over your head and after he did your hands reached out to pull his off.

“I missed this body. You’re so fucking beautiful. Been dreaming of this.” He said, dragging the strap of your bra down off your shoulder.

“Dreaming of what, T? What do you need?” You cooed with a sly smirk as your hands played with the waistband of the skirt you still had on.

“I need all of this…” sliding the mini skirt down your legs. “off right now.” He said gently, his words dripping like honey, his hands moving in slow motion. Making your skin burn.

You were standing in front of him completely naked now. He sat back resting on his arms behind him on the bed. The hotel room light cast over you illuminating the dips of your collarbones, highlighting the rise of your tits, the smoothness of your skin. Trent stared in awe just about drooling over his girl.

“Baby, I’m gonna need you here right now.” He said pulling your waist towards him. You sat with your legs on both sides of his and straddled him, feeling his prominent bulge growing harder and harder beneath your wet core.

“And I’m going to need these off, T.” You said pulling off his trousers. In quick motions all clothing was removed, Trent had flipped you over to be on top of you making out passionately, whispers and gasps of ‘I love you’ and ‘missed this so much’ muddled in between messy, sloppy, yearning kisses. You spit a little on your hand and gently gilded it up and down the length of his cock. His fingers slid between your folds gathering your wetness to play with your clit while he dipped two in to help stretch you out.

“Shit, that feels so good, sh-shit, I’m not gonna last very long, it's been a while without you. You’re so fucking tight” Trent was panting, losing focus at just the feeling of you.

“Baby, I need you so bad, can we just ju-just. Please I miss you so much T.” You were moaning as his languid fingers circled your clit begging for him to fuck you. His mouth nipped down your neck before his tongue circled and licked around your hard nipples eliciting a whimper of pleasure from you.

“Yeah, yeah, sweet girl. I’m gonna give you whatever you need.” He groaned. In swift motions he slowly aligned his cock with your core and slid into you. You both gasped at the contact. He moved slowly inch by inch but he just wanted to get as deep as possible. He missed this feeling like nothing else. His thick cock hit your g spot almost immediately once he was in. He felt so deep and the stretch of him being back inside you had your mind turn to complete mush. You lost any control you had when he was fully inside. The force and pace of his thrusts increased and so did the volume of both your moans. “You’re such a good girl, so fucking wet for me.” He said hearing the sounds of your slick as he dragged his cock slowly out of you and watched himself push all the way back thrusting harder. Your legs wrapped around him. You were whining in pleasure. Your lips parted gasping at the sensation of him. You both were moaning inexplicable phrases of praise, love, and adoration. You were completely obsessed with each other and how good the sex was only amplified it.

“Oh my fu-fucking god, T, you feel so good.” You felt tears fill your lash line. His cock rammed deep inside you again and again, hitting a spot only he knew, while his finger pressed rough circles around your clit. He dipped his head a little and played with your nipples more, pulling at them and biting. You could barely handle the sensory overload so you bit harshly onto his shoulder to try to quiet your moans.

“Fuck, baby, your pussy’s so perfect for me. Taking me so well.” He growled moving to nibble at your ear, his hot breath on your skin had your orgasm approaching faster and faster. He pulled back nearly all the way out and hammered back in. Tears started to roll down your cheek. Your arms wrapped around his body so tight your nails were digging into his skin leaving deep crescent marks while Trent continued to fuck you at an inhuman pace.

“I missed you, I missed this. You feel so fucking good. I want this forever.” You babled as your legs started to tremble. Your orgasm was getting closer and closer. Your eyes rolled back as you heard him moan your name again, again, and again.

You were getting lost in the pleasure that your T was giving to you while he was just as infatuated by your body and the sounds you were making had him fighting to not cum without you getting to orgasm first.

“You have me forever.” He whispered barely getting the words out softly in your ear. In a split second you felt your pussy spasm at the tenderness of his words and his rough strokes. You soaked his cock completely when you felt his release fill you up so much, it began to seep out while he was still inside. He laid on top of you for a while before he spoke again.

“I’m so addicted to you, beautiful. Can’t be away from you like this.” He murmured laying on your chest completely exhausted

“I guess we’re both addicts then” you giggled tracing your fingers up his spine. He continued laying there just holding you. You kissed him slowly. You were both so tired in the hotel room. “My sleepy, sleepy, needy boy.” You cooed, pressing your lips on his warm skin. You were so authentic with each other. Being back together felt like a saccharine summertime daydream. Feeling your New York daydream turned into your reality. Your love was undiluted, nothing felt better than being physically connected like this .

“We have to go soon, baby.” Trent finally picked his head up to nuzzle into your neck placing kisses all over your skin. If you could bottle this feeling forever you would, it was worth more than its weight in gold.

“I just want another cuddle, pleaseee” you whined childishly and in turned caused Trent to just let all his body weigh on top of you and wrap his arms so tight around you thought you couldn't breathe but the sound of his joyful laugh had you able to completely disregard the bone crushing pressure and just relish in the moment. You wanted to hear him happy, you wanted to see that beautiful smile pull across his face, the smile lines wrinkle, his little dimples appear so you let it ensue. Eventually you both got up and started to get dressed to meet with the Bellinghams; Denise, Jude, and Jobe at the restaurant and to meet Dianne downstairs at the hotel.

Trent needed to shower but you opted not to because your hair would take too long to do if you did which disappointed Trent because he claimed he needed your ‘help’ but in reality he just wanted another round of messing about to his disappointment you held your ground. Instead you began your skincare and makeup at the vanity in the hotel bathroom before moving back to the bedroom and sitting with a pout looking at your suitcase confused.

“What do you think I should wear? I don’t know Denise that well and I don’t know what people have said about me so I don’t want to like… I don’t know, mess up.” You nervously babbled rummaging through your suitcase on the floor.

“You look beautiful in anything.” Trent picked you up off the ground to give you a hug still wet from his shower.

“That’s incredibly unhelpful, T, seriously.” He placed a kiss on your forehead to try to calm your nerves. “Erm… I’m wearing this,” said showing you the outfit he had layed out of the bed. “If that helps at all.”

“Baby… I picked that out though” so you both started laughing.

Because you were going to the England team’s event after you wanted to be a little ‘on theme’ but not exactly sporting Saint George’s cross. You picked a pair of white linen trousers from Cult Gaia, a navy and white striped knit tank from Kule, paired with a Bottega Veneta mini sunrise bag in red, you also opted to bring a Jacquemus denim jacket in case you got cold. Oh! And of course shoes so red Manolo Blahniks were the choice. Your boobs were on display a little bit from not wearing a bra with the top but having a jacket would be a good cover. The pants fit your waist perfectly and when standing showed off your incredible figure. You wanted to be casual so your shoe choice was flats. Once you were dressed you walked over to help fix the collar of Trent’s shirt. He wore tailored khaki cargo style pants, a white t-shirt, a Rhude button up open overtop and a pair of Louis Vuitton trainer sneakers.

“You’re so so so handsome. It’s a little unfair.” You said as he stood in front of a full length mirror inspecting his outfit and you went and wrapped your hands around his biceps and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“I have to keep up with you don’t I?” He cheekily said, squeezing his hands around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss.

You went to the lobby and Dianne asked if you wanted a photo, well she wanted one of you two, you obliged not particularly upset about capturing memories. Trent and you took a few and Dianne gushed over how beautiful she thought you both were. You had Dianne send them to you and Trent but neither of you posted the photo. Your camera rolls were filled with photos like this that never saw the light of day only when they were printed and hung in the house or a rare occasion where you’d post a more subtle pic of you holding hands walking down the street in your fits like you did tonight.

You held hands as you walked down cobble streets till you saw the Brummie Bellingham family waiting outside the restaurant for dinner. The group of the three boys, two mums, and yourself filed into the restaurant and per usual heads began to turn. Trent was one thing but Jude out in public was another animal… the two of them together; Pandora’s box. You sat at a table nestled in the back of a nice restaurant, you were relieved your outfit of choice was appropriate. To no one’s surprise, you sat close to Trent. One part of the table had a booth for seating and you took his lead so Trent helped you slid in before he followed. Your thighs were touching immediately, one hand wrapped around your waist low with his thumb in between the fabric of your trousers and your skin. The other gripped high on your leg till he needed to use it to look at a menu. Trent, Jude, Jobe honed in on some conversation regarding a referee error that happened in another countries group match. You nodded your head following along, you had seen the story, and Trent had explained it at length. Trent pulled on your waist to get you to be a little closer to him so you gave into his wishes and placed your head on his shoulder. He placed a kiss onto your hair in between sentences. Dianne and Denise were talking about something you couldn’t really hear but they were engrossed in their own back and forth until Dianne tapped at your hand that was resting on the table top.

“Hmm?” You picked up your head with a smile turning towards her. Trent unphased with his hand still gripping you tight.

“Come talk with us sweetheart.” She cooed, gesturing her head towards the other side of the table. You didn’t need his permission but you looked at Trent peeling his fingers off your waist to slide over to talk to the mums before whispering in his ear.

“Okay?” You asked with no real expectation for an answer you just wanted to note what you were doing.

“You can only listen to so much hun.” Denise spoke with a smile you hadn’t really seen her crack yet. Another mum of only boys made you nervous.

“It’s fine, I think when I hit the 15th time discussing the same call, I start to check out a little.” You giggled picking up a glass of wine, bringing it slowly to your lips holding it there a little longer after your sip.

“I understand that, imagine over 20 years of football chaos all day every day. It’ll never end.” Dianne and Denise laughed reminiscing about going from grassroots teams to the biggest stadiums in the world with their little boys.

“I don’t mind. I do actually love football…” you paused and giggled a little before your gaze drifted away from them to Trent. “Maybe not to the same extent of course but it’s nice when people are passionate about something, really love, devote, and care about it.” Your eyes fell back towards them but more so to the table where you played with the rings on your fingers. Trent felt your gaze but missed the connection so he reached over a little and linked his pinky with your hand that was on the seat of the booth before giving you a soft smile. Denise and Dianne watched the exchange and the way your words softened talking about being passionate and what it meant to really love something catching that it wasn’t maybe only about football but about someone sitting at the table who was playing football.

“I heard you followed football before you moved here, is that right?” Denise asked, giving you a sweet smile.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s always been something my dad and I bonded over, had a connection with, I actually played till I was around 16 or so but didn’t really want to play at university so it faded out but when I got older following a team with my dad really kept us close and that’s important to me. We’ve created some of the best memories together at matches.” You rambled a bit, maybe it was the wine, or just panic trying to speak to Denise but you felt a little on edge.

“You did not play footie! That’s bullshit.” Jude’s head turned towards you.

“Jude…” Denise gave a stare that if it was directed at you, you’d probably cry but he just shrugged.

“Sentiment still stands, I don’t believe that.” Jude scoffed.

“Nah, she did! Kept the little secret in her back pocket for a while.” Trent confirmed it was in fact true with a little chuckle.

“Okay, well I wasn’t going to walk up to you people who do it professionally and be like ‘oh I played too!’ That’s embarrassing.” You sarcastically swayed your head back and forth making fun of how ridiculous it would’ve been.

“It still would’ve been interesting to know.” Jobe piped up and it made you smile. You just wanted to pinch his cheeks but he was older than that, definitely not as naive as he played but truly was adorable.

“Thanks, Jobe” you gave him a heartfelt smile. “Jude, you just listening in on our conversation?” You teased picking up your fork and pointing it at him.

“Nah, nah, you’re not all that interesting.” Jude pointed his fork at you emphasizing ‘you’ while he rolled his eyes.

“I’d say otherwise but each their own.” You imitated the same shrug he did earlier.

“You’ve had quite a whirlwind couple of years though sweetheart, at least from what I’ve heard. What did you do before you moved to the UK?” Denise, now interested in how you ended up at this dinner table and that there were things her boys were even still learning about.

“Oh, um, I went to university for a degree and then worked in fashion for a little and in what felt like a blink of an eye I ended up here.” You smiled, oversimplifying your backstory.

“Wow, Hun! Pretty, smart, funny, pushes back against my Jude. Trenty, you’ve got a good one.” Denise cooed looking at Trent whose eyes were still fixed on you from when you were speaking.

“Yeah, absolutely perfect. Worth getting her to move countries innit” Trent gushed eyes still stuck on you before sliding your body back over to him to wrap his arms around your frame placing a little peck on your neck.

“Done well” Dianne cooed, smiling at Trent’s clear obsession while taking a sip from her glass.

“Well then you’ve suddenly become my default to keep all the boys in line on this Greece holiday.” Denise joked a little but it was laced with a bit of seriousness.

“I always do, she’s been looking after mine for a bit now.” Dianne creased, the two mums were having a laugh themselves so you let it play out. The bulk of dinner wrapped up and Denise and Dianne decided they’d let the four of you get up to some nonsense without them so they said their goodbyes, hugs and kisses, and started to walk away from the table.

“Di, he is in love with that girl.” Denise quietly spoke to Dianne as they walked.

“Oh, I’m aware. It’s mutual too, think she’s more shy about the affection because he’s in his element or spaces he’s already familiar with but it’s totally infatuation all the time”

“Think they want to get married?” Denise asked the blatant question.

“I know Trent would, he’s slyly mentioned looking at rings but I keep my mouth shut.” Diane smiled just keeping her eyes forward as Denise glanced back at the table.

“It’s the only way we get any information now, just being quiet I swear” Denise laughed at the reality of their situations.

“She’s so good for him and he’s good to her. They make each other so happy, their house is gorgeous and so warm. It makes my heart full that they built this all from some whirlwind interaction.” She paused having a think. “Oh, god, you know what, yeah I’d really want that for them. Whole family loves that girl to bits.” Dianne babbled getting caught in the idea of what the future had in store for you and Trent.

You and the three boys decided to grab the check but go to the bar, you didn’t really need to sneak Jobe in with you like you normally would with a younger boy just being with Jude and Trent was like going anywhere with a free pass so it was no problem.

On cue, a few girls approached asking for photos with the boys so you happily helped take some for them. They wanted individual photos with Jude and then Trent. When one girl was posing for her photo with Trent she was a little bit more handsy than you cared for but it was only a photo so you bit your tongue. She wrapped her arm around his waist and placed her palm over his chest like a couple may pose. Jobe gripped your shoulder with his hand sensing the tension as you tapped away taking the photos on her phone. Even he knew it was probably a step too far on the girls' part. The other girl waiting for her turn for photos with Jude and Trent squealed a little.

“Literally you look like a couple! You’d be so cute together.” The fan said with a cheeky wink to her friend. Jude was quick to cut the encounter, none of you wanted to make a big deal but it still didn’t make you feel great.

“Alright darling, you want your picture with me too or just Trentski, C’mere” Jude cooed with false flirtation. The girl detached and Jobe said he’d take the remaining photos. You were polite and smiled to the girls and let them know if they needed you to take more you would but Trent walked up to you and draped his arms over your shoulder, his hands caressing the back of your head before you could really do anything else.

“Getting jealous, pretty girl?” Pressing his nose against yours. “Hmm, baby?” His lips pulled into a sly smile. You leaned in and rested your head on his chest before you started pressing light kisses over his shirt up to his collarbone and then his neck, all the way to his ear.

“Don’t like seeing you with someone else,” you quietly admitted. “You’re mine, baby.” You pouted your lips, he couldn’t see but could probably feel them roll against his skin. He grabbed both your cheeks and held your face out in front of his. You innocently looked up at him through your lashes. He teased you a little bit pressing small kisses to your neck now the same way you did to him but his were heavy with a more sensual motive. He heard you purr a little at the sensation so he took it a step further and began whispering against your sensitive skin about what he was going to do to you back in your hotel room; his words interspersed by kisses. You tried to hold back a moan before pulling him in for a proper kiss needing one to hold you over knowing you were in for a long night of cheeky hand placements and sultry kisses until you made it back to the promised land i.e your hotel room.

•

Thank you for continuing reading! Comment or message what you think of the chapter / series … 🤍

Next Part - Chapter 20 xx

[taylorswiftstyle]

The 25 Best Taylor Swift Gifts Will Never Go Out of Style

Curated with the help of a Taylor Swift style expert

With every Taylor Swift sighting in 2023—out to dinner, at a football game, out to dinner with the guy from the Chiefs—the singer gives fans a window into her personal style and inspiration for holiday shopping. According to Sarah Chapelle, creator of the fashion identification site Taylor Swift Style (@taylorswiftstyled on Instagram) and author of a forthcoming book on Swift's relationship with fashion, Taylor Swift's style is defined by three pillars: a high-low mix of luxury designers and more accessible, high-street brands, a habit of rewearing the same pieces multiple times, and a love of supporting small businesses alongside globally recognized brands. "This trifecta works in tandem and, I believe, supports her natural inclination and taste in style but also helps to project [her] friendly, approachable image," Chapelle explains.

It's also highly shoppable. The high-low mix in Swift's wardrobe and beauty routine means there are plenty of Swift tested-and-approved gifts to purchase ahead of the holiday season. "In addition to official merchandise—there are a few rare pieces that have their own cult-like status—Swifties are typically motivated when one of Taylor's fashion exacts is priced more accessibly than the haute couture designer goods," Chapelle says.

...

If you really want to put in the research for your favorite Swiftie, consider shopping secondhand for a piece Swift wore in a past era. "[I]f someone managed to find a secondhand exact piece from Taylor's fashion archives that I've loved," Chapelle notes, "that would be such a great gift for someone like myself who has a highly detailed fashion index going back years." (For any friends reading, Chapelle's most wanted are a green Elie Saab bag and a Topshop coat Swift wore in 2014.)

...

Ahead, shop the 25 best Taylor Swift gifts for fans of every era, onstage and off. The lineup ahead includes Chapelle-recommended pieces worn by Swift, my personal favorites from Swift's recent street style, and items inspired by Swift's expansive musical catalog.

[limi-strology]

Astro observations II

Decided to make a part 2, didn't expect the first one to get more than, like, 50 notes 😅

Based on just my personal experience, might not be true for everyone! ᵔᴗᵔ

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ Contrary to the stereotypes, I don't think I've ever met a two faced Gemini. They honestly seem pretty cool people, they have so many friends and they just know how to communicate, you know? Their relationship with their partner looks really wholesome to outsiders too (but could be just me viewing it this way, lol). If anything, I think they just stand out more, which makes it a bit more difficult to approach them. 🤷‍♀️

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ Gemini sun girls also have something aesthetic about them, like my cousin has a nice academia aesthetic going on in her life and a classmate from uni has this high-end fashion sense, she looks really pretty everytime (For some reason, when I think of Geminis, I'm envisioning luxury parties with champagne and brands like YSL and Louis Vuitton, that's the vibe I get) ✨

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ People with Sagittarius in their big three (sun, moon, rising) are some of the most outgoing people I know. They have so many connections and, once their schedule allows it, they start planning coffee dates, hangouts with their friends, clubbing etc. A friend of mine can literally NOT stay at home the entire day, he just HAS to go out or meet up with people for at least 2-3 hours. 🏙️

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ To the fellas with Moon opposition Neptune; How do you guys deal with moments in life that don't live up to your expectations? You know, when your imagination goes wild and has a very idealistic scenario of a certain situation, only for it to happen in a much different way and lowkey dissapoints you? Also, do you have dreams that kind of warn you or prepare you for something that will take place in the future? Because I feel like we kind of build our own world and the universe has to remind us that life isn't always perfect, lol 💭

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ My dear Aquarians, why the pessimism? Rather than overthinking everything and imagining the worst scenarios possible, how about you try focusing more on positive things? Even if it's just something small each time, it helps you view your daily life in a better light :)

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ Speaking of Aquas, I've noticed that most of you guys also don't really like being alone for too long. Sure, you want to have your me time (it's fine, we all do) but you also can't stand not having company around. Like, you'll randomly decide to stay in and spend some time alone but then you'll get upset and start calling your friends and family. A friend of mine cannot stand being alone for too long, even if we spend the whole day together, he hates being home on his own, to the point where he sometimes straight up takes the bus back to his hometown. It's wonderful that you enjoy spending so much time with others (I could never, lolll) but try picking up a hobby when you don't have the chance to be around people as much. It'll kind of distract you from loneliness and give you the chance to have some quality time with yourself 🧩

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, hope you have a wonderful day 💙

Edit: Bonus Observations

So a lot of you guys commented that Aquarius actually prefers solitude and could easily pass time all by themselves, so I looked into the charts of the social Aquas I know irl and see what it is that makes them so outgoing and talkative;

(I didn't include houses because I haven't gotten to confirm their birth times)

• My friend has Saturn in Gemini, which can make people talkative in any situation (I also have this placement and, although I see myself as an introverted homebody, I am surprisingly pretty chatty and enjoy going out with people that make me happy). Truly, he always gives something to talk about with everyone he knows, sometimes he'll start a conversation with another friend of his while I'm standing there not knowing what to say or do in the meantime, like 🧍‍♀️?

• He also has Mars in Sagittarius and Jupiter in Leo; energetic, lively and outgoing, thrives when surrounded by people. He almost never gets tired of hanging out with people, my low social battery could never 😅

• Other than her sun, my mom also has Aquarius in her Mercury, which makes her friendly and likeable, plus she enjoys conversing with people.

• Another thing about my mom, her placements are a bit contradictory; She has Sun in Aquarius, Moon in Virgo, and Uranus and Pluto in Libra - These indicate shyness, independence and introversion. Truly, she prefers doing things on her own most of the time and doesn't open up to just anyone. She also used to be very shy around my age (probably because of Virgo moon?). However, she also has Jupiter and Neptune in Sagittarius, which make her more adventurous, outgoing, charming and humorous. So that would probably explain this whole 'outgoing yet independent yet still can't be lonely' vibe she gives me.

Hope this explains a bit better why I had this image of Aquas at first, thanks for sharing your thoughts in the comments!

[natsuslover]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ random nobara headcanons

notes— i’m not ready to let go of my girl yet idc what gege says i still believe she’s alive and well and she’s just playing hide n seek she’s coming back to us soon (i’m coping) EDIT: MY GOAT IS BACKKKK 🔥

ft. nobara kugisaki

content: no warnings maybe some incredibly mild cursing idk

miss girl has a shopping ADDICTION

but she just calls it “retail therapy” and it’s apparently essential for her well-being

she uses all her jujutsu hush money salary on luxury brand items (mostly clothes and shoes)

has the DIRTIEST side eye known to man

like she’s judgmental asfff and you can most definitely see it on her face but she never outright says anything

unless it’s yuji megumi or gojo she very publicly scrutinizes them lmao

the biggest girls girl ever

always girls support girls even in a murder situation

but if a girl is toxic or fake or rude or pick me in any way then fuck that bitch

definitely follows that one movie trope of like reading a fashion magazine on top of a textbook in class

she’s a certified hater and i love that for her

nonstop yapper

and gossips like it’s her full time job

this girl is a pro stalker she can find anyone on instagram in like 10 seconds flat

nobara has a pretty polarized music taste imo

like one second she’ll be listening to the cuntiest music ever (think chappell roan britney spears nicki minaj type shit)

and next she’ll straight up be listening to travis scott, carti, odetari, and yeat or smth

but one thing ik fs is that she hates listening to music that doesn’t hype her up

gets to school late like everyday bc she takes too long getting ready

loves binge watching tv shows

my girl is 100% NOT a morning person loll

she’s so cranky in the mornings literally no one wants to mess with her

but she’s also one of those people that’s excited and wakes up at the crack of ass if she’s going on vacation

lowkey enjoys gaming (esp shooting games)

plays fortnite with yuji all the time

slacks off in class but somehow manages to get by on prior intelligence alone

hates coffee bc it’s too bitter

definitely prefers sweet tea or boba

LOVES trying new food

pookie is big backed in the best way possible

doesn’t really like playing sports but she looks out for her figure and works out so she’s pretty athletic anyway

definitely decorates her hammer hilt with cute rhinestones

it keeps getting messed up in battle but she happily does it again

spoiler:

she has a designer eye patch and makes sure it’s always cute and matches her outfit 😋

yall i had this in my drafts for so long before the recent chapter came out but im actually so fucking happy that nobara’s back and the trio is back together like i almost forgive gege for everything 😭😭

[shootingshinestar]

ATEEZ AS FRUITS THREAD ⤵️

I had trouble thinking what fruits they would be cuz they are the whole fruit basket

•

•

Hongjoong as cherry 🍒

Cherry can be sweet or sour. However, that doesn't stop it from being on top. I imagine cherries with being on top of ice cream like a banana split. He is always on top of work and performing! He is their captain leading his crew! Cherry is the center piece of desserts and used as the final touch. Just like those cherries, hongjoong brings ateez together as their center~

Seonghwa as strawberry 🍓

Literally strawberry is part of the shine star core. Talk to any hwa stan and they will have something with strawberry on it. Strawberry and croquette is just part of shinestar life atp 💀

Yunho as pear 🍐

Honestly, I had trouble with what yunho would be as a fruit, and then I chose pear! I read that pear is associated with good and healthy relationships! I think his friendship with mingi shows that. He is the ateez member who always does the tiktok challenges with other idols lol he has a friendly demeanor and good aura to be around (I think it's funny that yunho is always the Mc for shows like his vibes are just prefect for showcasing awards and acting)

Yeosang as grape 🍇

Grape are often in portraits of luxurious and rich. Yeosang has a very elegant and royal visual so I thought grapes fit him so well! Grapes come as a bunch, which fits yeo well as everyone in ateez is always after him hehet

San as orange 🍊

Ever since I saw him dressed as an orange farmer for thier fan meet, I associated with him with oranges. Orange can be simple like his fashion taste but it can versatile like him doing all sorts of things like going to fashion shows to picking garlic.

Mingi as watermelon 🍉

The hard shell of the watermelon can be compared to his cold and judgy approach however in the inside, he is a big softie and cutie ^^ (I'm gonna bring it up now, but mingi is not a frat boy 😭 I've seen those videos of which male idols would join a frat and it includes mingi and san??? Like bro stays in the room all day and watches anime lmao he only hangs out with yuyu)

Wooyoung as peach 🍑

Bro is so babygurl coded like ??? Anyways, Peaches are often associated with sweet and cute aesthetic = babygirl woo. Also bro had shake that during crazy form. Iconic fr ✨️ Bro is grabbing everyone peach too lmao.

Jongho as apple 🍎

Apple is literally part of his brand lol apple are so strong that it cause head injury which is funny considering jongho can possibly do the same thing to you haha. He is one of the strongest members in the group! I mean he is known for breaking fruits like apple with his bare heads like? Pretty iconic fr

[desertdollranch]

When American Girl first announced their partnership with Jeni’s Ice Cream to make some cute playsets and products, I had never heard of Jeni’s. I assumed that it was a brand that was local to the Wisconsin area, where AG’s headquarters are located.

I was so enchanted by these cute things that I wanted to reproduce some of the products for my own dolls, without spending very much. So I dug in a little deeper on reading about Jeni’s. It turns out I was mostly wrong about them. Jeni’s Ice Cream does have shops in large cities across the United States (none in my state), but you can also buy it in pints at Whole Foods Market! I don’t recall AG ever actually mentioning that. Maybe assume that all their customers are upper-class and are familiar already with where to obtain premium and luxury brands? 

If you haven’t checked out their full line of product collaborations, go look now. There’s an ice cream truck, an outfit, a waffle cone maker, a cafe table, and some itty bitty bowls of ice cream that are scented. All of it is super cute, but in typical AG fashion, quite expensive.

I swung by Whole Foods the last time I went into the city, and Grace (my little foodie friend) and I gave it a try. There are around a dozen varieties and a few are even dairy free. It was hard to choose which ones to get. Since it’s begun to feel like summer, I picked out Sweet Cream Biscuits & Peach Jam, and Wildberry Lavender. Both remind me of Grace’s collection: sweet, summery, and pastel-colored. 

Grace and I agree.... the peach was excellent, but the lavender was outstanding. It does indeed taste as expensive as it is, at around $8 a pint, so it’s not something we’ll have more than once or twice a year. 

Grace wasn’t too happy about being told that this won’t be a weekly treat. So she got the idea to make and serve ice cream in her and her family’s pastry shop, La Grande Patisserie! 

I was happy to help her out. 

For the first step, we tracked down some doll-sized ice cream containers. 

I didn’t have to go to Whole Foods Market to find these. They were in my local grocery store. Perfectly small, and proportional to 18 inch dolls! From the left they are Häagen-Dazs chocolate, Häagen-Dazs coffee, and Ben & Jerry’s Cookie Dough. We got 4 total containers of cookie dough, so that I could try out a half dozen different methods of making the doll ice cream.

After Grace and I emptied the containers over the course of about a week, I used air-dry clay to reproduce the ice cream in a non-perishable form. 

Chocolate and coffee are in the middle, while the outer four corners are cookie dough flavor. 

Most of the time I shape my objects before I paint them, but in this case I mixed acrylic paint with the clay, using varying amounts of paint. Then while it was still soft, I dragged a small serrated knife across the clay to give it the right texture. 

Now to create the scoops.

I found these clear plastic bowls at Dollar Tree. Also perfectly doll-sized. 

And here are the scoops! I formed small clay spheres and then roughed up the surface with the same knife. Then I used a toothpick to dot on the chocolate chips.

Grace gave it two spoons up. 

These were a practice run. Next, we’re going to figure out how to make Jeni’s ice cream, specifically, and the containers, so we have more colors and flavors to work with. Grace wants to send some of these first drafts to my mom’s dolls, and maybe we’ll even sell the ones that turned out the best. 

We also intend to come up with an easy, efficient way to make plastic spoons, and then we’ll come back to this post for part 2!

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

Louis has a stylist for all his public events. His stylist goes to all the top fashion shows in Europe yet he seems to be the celebrity whose fashion seems to be least influenced by his stylists taste and brand loyalty.

Helene styles so many other celebrities and her outfits for them are so different to what she picks for Louis both in terms of fits and brands.

She doesn’t seem to favour Blackberry, Stone Island or Lacoste as much for anyone else as she does for him. It almost looks like it comes more from him.

I wonder why that is.

I’m just guessing but:

1. There is a definite crossover between English football culture, specifically Northern English football culture, and certain fashion brands. Louis has called himself a “chav” from the North as a badge of pride (reclaiming it from British derogatory classism). You can read up on the co-opting of the Burberry brand in the 1990's as signifier of this phenomenon. It's not all good: you'll see plenty of xenophobia and racism in the mix too. Anyway, indie UK rock has a huge presence in football, and fashion is important for the men (they're mostly men) involved. Stone Island, Lacoste, Wales Bonner, and lots of designers that Louis favors are designers who pay attention to high end football prêt-à-porter.

2. Sometimes haute couture brands have a rock personality in their past. Virgil Abloh (Off White) worked with Demna Gvasalia who is now head of Balenciaga. They both worked with Kanye West at Vetements. Yeezy (the brand) did alright in sales (to put it mildly), and made Kanye a $hundreds millionaire. It’s not a bad model to follow if a rock star were to, say, launch their own sports-oriented fashion brand.

3. Louis’ interest in fashion also skews avant-garde, edgy, and Japanese. His love of deconstructed shirts, of wry references to punk or pop culture, and minimalist, futuristic brands like Yamamoto’s Y-3, Kawakubo’s Comme des Garçons, Dries Van Noten denote his dry sense of humor. Louis doesn’t wear clothes to shout out, “Look at me! I’m a real celebrity!” His quiet luxury is so quiet, it doesn’t even look luxurious except for the people in the know. This is why journalists called his Melbourne airport look “lazy baseball cap, sweatshirt and pants,” when it’s actually a $2000 outfit.

So in short, Louis has a real interest in his fashion niche. He’s studied it and he’s been very consistent over the years. Louis wears the clothes; they don’t wear him. This is part of the reason that designers want him to wear their clothes: Louis makes the clothes look smarter, better, more expensive, cooler. That’s all on Louis, not a stylist.

[shinjukuppoi]

my celia headcanons! under the cut because there's a lot. a lot are very specific but... 😛

celia is a lesbian (no one is surprised by me saying this) and i don't think she has a preference when it comes to mascs and femmes.

celia would make several fake facebook accounts to make fun of people she doesn't like at work. she would be very deliberate as to not get caught. expert cyber bully

celia is a night owl. she'd have to be up early for work, obviously, but i feel like she would definitely feel safest to be herself and indulge herself at night

celia not only sleeps on her back, but she stays very still the whole night, like a rock

she has a very complicated skincare routine so she can keep herself staying "youthful" (not that she needs it 🙄)

celia's everyday perfume is delina (because she can afford it and i think she would like to smell a little fruity and like roses!). i think on nights out she would wear something a little stronger and more mature. going to meet the mc, i think she wouldn't put in the effort to freshen herself up or put on more perfume since it's the only space where she can be herself!

celia would definitely drink kale smoothies regularly (i'm sorry, i can't stomach these!)

celia would pick going to see the mc over going out to the club on most days

celia would have been so focused on her career that she'd have very little time to watch tv series or read book series. i think as a kid she would have played something like pokemon on the game boy, and gets confused when she sees things about the new pokemon games, but that's about it

celia is a high-functioning alcoholic and sometimes mixes her alcohol with coffee or energy drinks so she can stay more alert! sugar free vodka redbull, if an energy drink, but she doesn't like the flavor.

celia listens to house music and jazz so she can relax

i think lede is celia's maiden name so she and harold have different last names (he would have agreed to it reluctantly)

if celia gets tim hortons, she gets a double double and an old fashioned donut (extremely rarely), but she doesn't like tim hortons because they aren't canadian anymore

celia is 5'9 without heels, and she wears 3-inch heels for work every day, so she's usually 6'0 😆

i think celia came from a poor household and worked very hard her whole life to get where she is! this adds to why she is so stressed all the time. she thinks any slip up could cost her everything.

celia is lactose intolerant.

celia's ideal captive is plus sized

even on her days off from work, she is still dressed to impress!

celia's favorite makeup brands are Cle de Peau and La Mer

celia drives a luxury hatchback. the interior is always very clean and she gets it cleaned regularly. it smells like the black pine-tree car air freshener, although when she's very stressed she lets it get a little messy as long as no one sees.

i have headcanons for the "You ran away together" ending too, but i'm saving those for when i start writing a fanfiction in a few months. i want to see other people's headcanons, too!

[blackberry-gingham]

Dating Emma Frost HCs!

Reader is gender neutral, requested by @sarah-paulsons-bottom-lip

One word: luxury

She loves it, and if you don't already love it too- you're gonna learn lol

She's not really a settling in type of gal, so you can expect to always be traveling and going places

In as much as she seems to always be up to something, she can have down time too

Vacations from schemes- if you will

Those are the most fun, especially when you can get anything and everything free thanks to having one of the most powerful psychics in the world at your side

Her favorites are shopping trips, but really only to the very high end luxury brand stores

She encourages you to try on or grab anything you like, and if you don't have a particular style (say, like her and her all white outfits) you can be certain she'll help you find one

After all, bad fashion is perhaps the one crime she'll never allow

After a day of spoiling you, she expects the favor to be returned however in whichever way you can

She'll never say no to a quality, romantic night in, if you catch my meaning-

But worshipping the ground she walks on is definitely a great start

But everything can be fun and games and free resorts tho- Emma Frost has an eye for the acquisition of power, and she can't put it off for too long

While there's no guarantee she'll share any notoriety or influence she gets... She'll be more then happy to bring you along on any of her excursions that she can

After all, where's the fun in doing a complex social climb with no one around to congratulate you?

On a personal note: you'll find that Emma is slow to trust and holds many reservations about letting you get too close to her heart

Even as a psychic who can know the true intentions of anyone she chooses to read- it can be heard believing that someone is 100% on her side

She's been at this game of use or be used for so long... It's hard to imagine living any other way

The good news is, while she may not come out and say it... She wants to believe in you, at least

Just keep sticking by her, even in the tough times and especially when she's trying to work through one of her plans

If you have any powers of your own, pledging them to her and her needs is expected-

Actually following through and continuing to be her team player...

Now that will earn her notice

Even if you don't have powers- surely she'll have picked you up as a play thing for when she's in-between work

Once you prove you can provide her an emotionally safe and stable place to return to tho... That's when she'll consider something a little more between you

[kelyon]

Courtship 17: Ceremony

The knot is tied

Read on AO3

She didn’t sleep well, the night before her wedding. Her childhood bedroom was cleared out and all the shadows were strange. They seemed sharper now, darker. They threatened to swallow her. All her clothes were out of her closet and out of the dirty clothes hamper. There was nothing on her dresser except the makeup she’d need for tomorrow. All the usual clutter of her life was gone, either packed up to go with her, shoved away in drawers, or in the trash. A room this clean felt empty, maybe dead. A skeleton picked bare of flesh. 

Energy born of nerves and excitement filled her up like champagne bubbles. She tossed and turned in her twin-sized bed, trying to get comfortable, trying to relax enough to sleep. Masturbating might have helped, but Mr. Gold had forbidden her to touch herself if he wasn’t present.

If only he was! Miss French flipped over onto her stomach. If Mr. Gold was here, if she was trying to sleep next to him--in his bed that would be her bed, in his house that would be her home--well, he wouldn’t allow any restlessness in his plaything, would he? He would wear her out. He would use her until she couldn’t do anything but sleep. He would fuck her into a coma and keep fucking her in her dreams.

Soon, she promised herself. Tomorrow night was her wedding night. If she knew Mr. Gold, he would exhaust her. Everything would be alright once they were together. Once they were married, once she belonged to him, once she was really Mrs. Gold. Then everything would be perfect.

She just had to make it until then.   

****

In the morning, she showered and did her hair. She used all the expensive products and lotions and cleansers that would have been unthinkable before she’d started dating Mr. Gold. Hell, before she’d gone on that first date, hot water had been a faraway dream. Now she luxuriated in steam scented with expensive shampoo. She rubbed her feet with a brand-new pumice stone and exfoliated with a coarse mixture of salt and orange-scented oil. No more of Miss Trudine’s homemade crap.

She lathered herself in foamy shaving cream--as she had every day for the past two weeks--and took a razor to her legs, armpits, and pussy. If she wanted Mr. Gold to eat her out, she had to keep herself clean. Repeated attempts had made it a lot easier to find and remove the pesky, wiry hairs grew between her legs. Yet she never shook the feeling that she wasn’t bare enough. There always seemed to be more faults she had to eliminate, more parts of her that Mr. Gold would find distasteful.

She would figure it out. Mrs. Gold would be good enough. She would deserve her husband. Mrs. Gold would cut away and burn every part of her that wasn’t up to his standards. 

No matter how much it might hurt in the moment, his approval would be worth the price.

Primped and perfumed, Miss French began to dress. For her wedding, she’d bought a white corset that pushed her boobs up to her neck. The matching thong was basically a just white silk triangle on a string. It covered nothing, which was exactly what she wanted. She put on a white garter belt and a pair of white thigh-highs. They clung to her legs, tight and silky and delicious. 

Technically, her wedding dress wasn’t meant for a wedding. Storybrooke didn’t have a dedicated bridal shop, and there hadn’t been time to have something made or even order a dress from a catalog and have it mailed in. Fortunately, Modern Fashions always carried a scant collection of prom dresses.

It was white, at least. The entire dress was covered in beads and sequins--all white and silver and crystal. She would sparkle like a movie star on a red carpet. Like everything else in her new wardrobe, her wedding dress was short and tight. One sleeve went all the way down to her wrist--conveniently covering the last yellow traces of her bruise--but her other arm was completely bare. It showed off her shoulder and a good bit of cleavage. Overall, it had the same allure of the purple-blue dress she had worn on her first date with Mr. Gold. Back then she had been a thousand times more innocent than she was now in snow white.  

She stepped into the dress and brought it up to her waist. She slid her arm into the one sleeve and found the zipper on the back with her other hand. But when she pulled, the zipper didn’t move.

A white-hot arrow of emotion pierced Lacey. This was why people had bridesmaids. This was why a woman was supposed to have friends and family she could rely on to be there for her on the most important day of her life!

The jolt of rage was enough to get the zipper to pull up. Miss French breathed. Shallow breaths--the dress was tighter across her ribs than the corset--but breaths all the same. She had to learn some self-control. This was nothing to get upset over. Miss Trudine and Miss Woolverton had made their choice. They had decided she wasn’t worth helping. She just had to accept the fact, and move on with her special day.

Besides, she had zipped her dress up by herself. Her hair looked just as good as it would have if Miss Woolverton had worked on it for hours. She was immaculate and she had done it all on her own. That just proved she didn’t need them anyway. 

****

She still needed practice to walk in her tall white wedding heels. Carting her bags down the stairs a few times did the trick. She set everything in a neat row outside, by the side door, well out of sight of the shop. Moe was in there, frantically filling out Valentine’s Day orders. He knew she was leaving today, but that didn’t mean they needed to see each other. 

Mr. Gold had told her that their appointment at City Hall was at three. His employee, Dove, would come by at two to get everything. 

“Everything” was seven shopping bags of her new clothes and jewelry, two bags of makeup and skin and hair products, and one bag of books and mementos--things she didn’t want Moe to find if he ever went into her room. Not that he would. It would be too much work for him to clean out her old stuff himself. The garbage bags full of clothes she had wanted to give to Janine were still up there.  

Once her things were outside, she couldn’t very well leave them unguarded. The French’s neighborhood wasn’t exactly rough, but a line of open shopping bags would be a tempting target for anybody. So she lingered in the doorway, wrapped up in a white woolen coat and white leather gloves she would probably never wear again after today. 

At exactly two o’clock in the afternoon, a long black car pulled up in front of Game of Thorns. It was even bigger than Mr. Gold’s Cadillac. It took Miss French a minute to recognize what it was.

“He rented a limo?” She asked Dove when he came out. “Or did he already own one?”

The tall man gave her a brief nod. “Mr. Gold didn’t know how many companions you’d have with you. He wanted to be prepared.”

“Oh,” Lacey said softly. “Right.”

Without another word, Dove picked up the shopping bags, two in each hand, and took them over to the limo’s trunk, leaving her alone on the sidewalk.

It made sense of course. She hadn’t told Mr. Gold that all her invitations had been soundly rejected. It was a lovely gesture, to provide transportation large enough for her whole family. In a perfect world, it would have been a treat for everyone. Janine and Mara would have squealed, they would have felt like celebrities. Chloe would be excited just because they were excited. Uncle Manny would tell them all the ways a limo was better than any other car. Maybe Aunt Terri would smile a little, maybe some light would come back into her eyes. The best she could expect from Dad would be an approving nod, but that would be enough. 

In a perfect world. If they could all be together.

Her eyes burned, but she couldn’t cry. It was too early in the day for her makeup to be ruined. Instead, she blinked the tears away and took a breath. The air was so cold it hurt her lungs and that was just what she needed. 

All her luggage was packed. Dove held the limo door open for her. She was just about to step into the car when a familiar figure turned the corner to their street. 

“Uncle Manny?” Lacey whispered.

Holy shit, it was him! He was here! She wanted to run to him, but her heels were already too precarious. Instead, she stood in front of the limo and waved.

“Uncle Manny!” she shouted. “You came!”

When he saw her, her uncle picked up his pace, doing a half-jog with his hands in the pockets of his coveralls.

“Ace!” He smiled as he got closer. He gave a brief nod to the looming shadow of Dove. “I’d hug you, but I can’t get motor oil on all that white.”

“Why are you wearing something with motor oil on it?” she laughed. “Don’t you know how to dress for a wedding?”

Manny’s smile froze. He didn’t say anything. His large eyes watched her face like an anxious dog.

“Oh,” Miss French said softly. She took as deep a breath as she could manage. “I see. What else could I have expected?”

“I’m just here cuz your dad needs someone to drive the delivery van, since you’re…” He gestured at her outfit and the limo.

“Since I’m getting married?” she asked tartly. “An event for which I just might want at least one family member in attendance?”  

He shook his head. “Lacey, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that!” she snapped. “You’re the one that always said love means never having to say you’re sorry. Doesn’t that mean not doing things you need to apologize for?”

“Yeah, and that goes both ways.”

Her white gloves gripped the edge of the limo door. “I’m not going to apologize for marrying Mr. Gold. It isn’t wrong.”

“Is it right?” He asked softly. “Honey, do you really think this is the right thing to do?”

She clenched her jaw. 

“It’s my only choice,” Miss French said in a tight whisper. “Being with Mr. Gold is my best chance.”

Mr. French nodded sadly. “I can’t stop you,” he said. “But I can’t support you. Not about this. Not about him.”

He turned to go into the store.

“We’re gonna have shrimp!” Desperate, Lacey tried a new tactic. “Shrimp cocktail, passed around by waiters. A-and surf and turf, and a live band, an open bar. It’s gonna be a good time!”

Her voice broke on the last word. Silently, he turned around to look at her.

“Dodici’s” The word blew away in the cold winter wind. “At seven. Please come.”  

Uncle Manny sighed, and turned away again.

****

The interior of the limo was a cave of black leather. Two rows of lights ran down the long ceiling, but the dim yellow was darker than the cloudy afternoon outside. All the seats were on two benches, one in the back like a normal car, and one going longways up the side. Her whole family could have fit in here. It could have been a real party. Instead, Miss French sat in the center of the back seat, alone. 

 Before they drove off to City Hall, Dove showed her the various amenities: The button to raise and lower the partition that separated the driver from the back, the phone she could call him on if she had instructions. There was a sound system for music, ways to change the colors of the lights, and a bar with champagne in a bucket of ice.

She took it all in with polite nods. She should have been dazzled by the luxury, the expense, but right now she didn’t have the heart for it. 

The best she could do was accept a glass of champagne when Dove offered to pour her one. It was bitter--dry--and the bubbles popped like pins inside her mouth. The alcohol and that slightest touch of pain worked together to help her relax. She slumped in the overstuffed seat, her legs sprawled out in front of her. 

They drove on Main Street to the good part of New Town. City Hall sat within walking distance of Mayor Mills’ house. Through tinted windows, she saw people on the sidewalks stop to stare at the fancy car. Marco the handyman coming out of the hardware store, the patrons in the diner, a group of kids bundled up to play in the park--all of them gaped at her. 

Miss French sat up a little straighter. She waved at everybody through the window, but they couldn’t see her. Well that wouldn’t do. This was the happiest day of her life, she was on her way to become Mrs. Gold. People had to see what that looked like.

Heedless of the cold, Miss French rolled down the window. She stuck her head out and smiled like a prom queen. When they stopped at Storybrooke’s only traffic light, she leaned out further and waved at the other cars.

“I’m getting married!” she shouted to everyone and no one.

Somewhere in this town, there had to be someone who’d be happy for her. 

****

On a Saturday afternoon, City Hall was almost empty. She didn’t see anyone as Dove guided her to the office of the Municipal Clerk. The clack of her heels on black and white tile echoed through the halls. Was there anyone else in the building right now? Had Mr. Gold pulled some strings to make sure it was open at all? 

When they got to the office, Mr. Gold was already there. He looked wonderful, even more elegant than normal. His suit was pure black, sharp and crisp. He wore a dress scarf under his lapels, black and blue paisley, threaded through with gold. His cobalt pocket square was intricately folded, as though to mimic a boutonniere. She’d told him she didn’t want flowers, so he wasn’t wearing any. His tie was the same rich blue color, stuck through with a golden tie clip.  

He stood in front of a gray metal desk where a beleaguered civil servant was straightening stacks of papers and manila file folders. The miserable-looking little man was trying to look busy so he wouldn’t have to confront the reality of being alone in a room with Mr. Gold.

Miss French smirked at that. If people couldn’t be happy for her, at least she could be happy at their discomfort. 

Mr. Gold grinned when he saw her.

“There you are,” he said. 

“Miss me?”

“Not anymore.” He reached out his arm and pulled her in for a quick, possessive kiss. “I’ll never have to miss you again after today. You’ll be mine forever, dearie.”

Miss French beamed at him. Her groom, her husband. Forever. 

Mr. Gold pulled her aside, so they could be away from Dove and the clerk. He pulled a long box out of his suit jacket. “I have something for you.”

“More gifts?”

“Technically, one of these is supposed to be borrowed.” He offered her the box and she took it.

The box was red velvet, and opened on a hinge. Inside, laid out on a black satin pillow, were more pearls than Lacey French had ever seen in one place in her life.

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh my God,” she whispered. She looked up at him. “Mr. Gold…”

He smiled slyly, pleased with her adoration. He took the box and lifted up some of the pearls. It was three strands banded together with a gold and diamond clasp. Mr Gold took her bare arm and laid the bracelet against her wrist. The pearls were cool to the touch, or maybe her blood was running so hot that they just felt that way in comparison. 

“As I said, one counts as borrowed.” He picked up the other set of pearls, this even longer than the first. He stood behind her and wrapped them around her throat. When clasped, they fit snugly, more like a choker than a necklace. Miss French could only manage shallow breaths. “And the other is old.”

It took her a moment to register why that was important. When it finally clicked, she chuckled. 

“Old, new, borrowed and blue,” she recited the old rhyme. “I didn’t realize you were superstitious.”

Mr. Gold shrugged. “Only about things that don’t really matter.”

Miss French was too overwhelmed to wonder what he meant by that. She ran her fingers over her bracelet. The pearls had yellowed slightly with age, giving them a lovely golden luster. Each one was just a little misshapen, a little short of being a perfect sphere. Mom had said that was how you knew they were real, a natural stone and instead of a manufactured bead.

Mom knew a lot about pearls. They were her birthstone.

She took as deep a breath as she could manage, dug her white-painted fingernails into her palms. Somehow, she hadn’t thought about Mom all day.  Of all the people who weren’t here with her, this was the absence that hurt the most. The mother of the bride should be there for the wedding. 

People might tell her that her mother wouldn’t approve of this marriage, but they didn’t know. Maybe Mom would have understood, if she was here, if she could see how happy Mr. Gold made her daughter. Lacey would never know, but she could hope. Maybe Mom could have convinced the others, or at least Dad. The perfect world--the world of happiness and togetherness--would have been the one with Mom in it. 

But even if Mom could be happy for her, even if she supported them and blessed them with her whole heart, it didn’t matter. She was gone. Forever.

“It’s funny.” Miss French spoke softly to keep her voice from breaking. “My mother used to say it was bad luck for a bride to get pearls. Something about them being a symbol for tears.”

“Every pearl a man gives his bride on their wedding day is a cause he’ll give her for weeping in their marriage.” Mr. Gold didn’t deny the superstition, just gave her necklace a pointed look. “It’s not too late to change your mind, my dear.”

Miss French shook her head. “I want to marry you,” she told him. “I want to be with you, and I don’t give a damn what anyone says, living or dead.”

Mr. Gold gave her a satisfied grin. “That’s my girl.”

****

The process of getting married was surprisingly simple. In front of the sad little clerk, Miss French and Mr. Gold separately filled out their intention of marriage forms. Then Mr. Gold paid a paltry fee and he received their license.   

“Um.” The clerk made darting looks between Mr. Gold, Miss French, and Dove. “Is there a second witness?”

“Is that really necessary?” Mr. Gold asked.

“Um, yes? Legally, there has to be two, or else the marriage license is invalid.”

“And we can’t have that,” Mr. Gold said dryly. He turned to her. “Are you expecting any of your friends and family?”

“No,” Miss French said simply. “No one’s coming.”

Brusquely, Mr. Gold turned to Dove. “Find someone.”

Without a word, Dove left the office and went out to the rest of City Hall.

“I’m sorry.” Miss French looked down at her new/old bracelet. “If my family wasn’t so--”

“Well, you’re better than them.” Mr. Gold cut her off before she could find a word to describe her family. “They are little people in a little town and you want more than they can even dream of. Don’t be ashamed of it.”

For the first time that day, Miss French felt warmth in her heart instead of her eyes. He was right. Mr. Gold understood her in a way that no one else could, not even people she’d known her entire life. Being understood, being accepted, being told to have no shame--that was more of a gift than all the wealth and luxury in the world. That was why she was going to marry this man.

A moment later, Dove came back, followed closely by the lanky figure of Dr. Hopper. The psychiatrist had his dog--a friendly Dalmatian named Pongo--on a leash.

Mr. Gold sneered. “Leave that animal outside, please.”

Dr. Hopper’s face turned as red as his hair. “I-I can’t just let him alone in City Hall,” he protested weakly. “What would Mayor Mills do if she found him?”

“Turn it into a fur coat,” Mr. Gold muttered too low for anyone but Miss French to hear. 

She snickered. “I guess you don’t like dogs, huh?”

“I don’t need a slobbery, mindless beast to jump in my lap and demand my attention. That’s what I have you for, dearie.”  

Miss French burst into giggles so pervasive she covered her mouth with her hand to keep the other men from seeing. She leaned in to whisper into her groom’s ear. “I’ll be your bitch any day of the week, Mr. Gold.”

He made a low noise in his throat and put his hands on either side of her waist. “I know you will,” he whispered back.

That exchange seemed to improve his mood. He waved Hopper up to the clerk’s desk and didn’t say another word about the animal. 

“Mr. Harlan here is a notary,” Mr. Gold indicated the city clerk. “And as such, he is able to officiate the wedding as well as file the license. Shall we get on with it?”

The little man nodded and began to read some words off a typed sheet of paper. His voice was so weak, Miss French didn’t bother to listen. She spent the ceremony looking up at Mr. Gold. He held her wrists in both hands, a grip that went tighter every minute the clerk droned on. They didn’t exchange rings, they were already wearing them. Miss French voiced her consent to marry Mr. Gold, her agreement to go along with whatever romantic bullshit the state of Maine thought a marriage was. Their marriage would be different, of course. It would be like nothing this world had ever seen. 

They said, “I do.” They kissed. The sad clerk said they were man and wife. The license was signed by two witnesses and returned to the city.

It was done. 

They were married. 

[makaybee]

Giana was an only child that played in the quite streets of Willowcreek. Though her parents, Thomas and Alana Mullins, gave her the best of everything, there was always something missing. Her request for more siblings was met with rejection, and involuntary solidarity made her aware of just how alone she was. Both parents were workaholics. Her mother, a Britechester graduate with a distinguished degree (with honors) in Fine Arts, had at the time landed a job as an art curator. Her father was a chef at a five star restaurant and cooked more meals for strangers than he did for his own family. Looking back now, she could understand why having another child wouldn't have been the best decision.

Her relationship with her mom became strained as she aged. Alana strove for perfection in her work life and expected the same of her home life. As a result, Gigi attended a private high school that probably cost more than her mother's luxury car. With her mother's firm insistence, she attended a plethora of extra curricular activities. Soccer, softball, art club, music...there were too many to count, and if it weren't for the wall of framed awards her mother displayed in her library, she wouldn't even remember any of it. Because if she were being honest, she didn't care. The trophies, the acknowledgments, were just another way to earn her parent's attention.

Her despondency worsened in college. Her mother insisted that she follow in her footsteps. Gigi really didn't want to take the same path her mother took, but part of her still yearned for attention and approval. And so, she also pursued a degree in Fine Arts. She used painting to express her anger, and for a while her pieces, though brilliant, were filled with caged frustration and loneliness. Then she ran into Dillan -quite literally- outside of the Foxbury Common Cafeteria. (Nobody had mocha lattes like Foxbury.)

Distracted by the phone in her hand, she had just enough time to register the long string of expletives (Did she detect a Mt. Komo accent?) before a dripping hot slice of pizza, followed by -was that a fizzy blurpleberry soda?- splattered on her brand new white Simverse sneakers. Well dang.

Slowly, she pulled her eyes up from the bubbling mess on the ground. She totally expected to be berated for ruining some poor guy's lunch. Her gaze took note of his ruined Simdidas shoes (definitely limited edition), fashionably distressed jeans, (covered in pizza sauce), to the shirt that read “Never trust atoms. They make up everything”. The guy stared at the ground for what seemed like forever, so she couldn't read his expression behind the expensive designer glasses he wore. Still, she could've sworn she picked up on a bit of anger? Hostility?

His eyes flitted to hers, but only for a moment before dropping once again to the mess between them. She braced herself for another slew of profanities, the kind worthy of a parental advisory label, but all he asked was, “How do you fix a broken pizza?”

She stood there baffled, unsure of how to respond. The absurdity of the question in a situation like this...

His dark eyes rose to meet hers before asking once again. “How do you fix a broken pizza?”

Still she stood there, mouth gaping, probably looking like a fish out of the Brindleton Bay. “Tomato paste.” He said with finality.

“What?” She asked.

“That's how you fix a...pizza. You know...that’s broken. Tomato paste. Get it?” A single brow rose as he studied her reaction.

Gigi let his words run through her head for a second as she struggled to piece together the scene unfolding. Before she could stop it, laughter, genuine and pure, poured from her traitorous lips. She couldn’t believe she was actually laughing -like a chortling donkey, mind you- at such a corny joke. Honestly, it was the stupidest thing she ever heard. And yet, it was at that very moment, she knew she found a kindred soul, and she wouldn't have to be alone for as long as he was around. Needless to say Gigi and Dash were fast friends after that day.

[psychicreadsgirl]

Blackpink Jisoo 2023 - 2024 Reading

This is whatever I can pick up from Jisoo from 2023 - 2024.

Career

Jisoo will continue her role in Dior and will continue to attend fashion events. She may also be the new ambassador for some other brands in fashion/beauty/luxury/food/beverages etc. She's also likely to appear in some interviews/talk shows. She may perhaps have a movie role from 2023 to 2024, but the chances are on the lower side.

Jisoo will continue with vlogging and will also continue with her social media posts. She may perhaps have some OST for some drama/film/anime.

Friendship

From 2023 - 2024, Jisoo will get to know more people and make new friends. She will also likely lose some friends during this period as they naturally grow apart. She may run into some problems with friends like arguments or some friends will want to ask her for help like introducing them to producers/fashion designers or borrowing money from them or promoting their products.

Some of the people that she becomes associated with are likely to be criticized or are likely to face some negative news/scandal(s). Jisoo may be somehow dragged into their news.

Love

Jisoo has been seeing some people on and off. As of now there isn't a serious long term relationship. However, there's potential for one of them to become more serious/long term. She is pretty good at keeping her dating life a secret. She isn't really the type to do a lot of couple items, but if she does, they are subtle. If the dating becomes more serious, there is also chances of her marrying this partner sometime in 2025 or 2026/2027.

[alphinias]

I wouldn’t read too much into Madison and Madelyn not meeting up in Paris, they probably haven’t even crossed paths considering they’re attending different shows and probably haven’t had any free time.

I’ve been lucky in the past to see the work behind the Milan Fashion week once thanks to a friend of mine who used to work for Armani and I can imagine the Paris one is pretty much the same, let me tell you that week is HECTIC even for the guests attending!

There are about 50-60 shows in 8-9 days and the biggest luxury brands all tend to have their events in the same 3-4 days (‘cause of course all the fashion weeks in Milan-Paris-London happen one after the other and the celebrities won’t be stopping for long in each city)

There’s so much more for the celebrities than just going to the fashion show, the whole day is organized for them by the brand who’s show they’re attending, they don’t pick the Hotels themselves, they spend HOURS at the brand’s boutique for the fittings of the clothes they’ll be wearing to the show, they get ready with hairdressers and make artist chosen for them by the brand who chose their look already, they have shootings for promoting the brand, even though the runway is like 10-15 minutes the whole show takes about one to two hours for all the guests to arrive and get the pictures and leave and it doesn’t end there, each brand organizes activities/lunch for the brand ambassadors and for each show there are after parties at night at the brand headquarters…one brand takes a whole day or two away from you.

Even though it seems like it from social media the guests are not there for fun, it’s all business and they’re there for work, networking and promotional stuff, if they’re lucky they have one moment to go see the Eiffel Tower or one night to go were they want, I’m sure they simply haven’t had the time to breathe let alone going around with friends.

People are reading too much into the cast nowadays!!

This is a much more knowledgeable answer than mine so posting more reasoning for everybody to see. I didn’t know the details but I expected all the celebs there were probably pretty busy. And also, Paris is huge!

[ericspeartree]

Hey all, here are my creativity test results. Think there's some work to be done! Here are some design preferences and prejudices too:

Design Preferences: 

Subversive Film - I am absolutely crazy about movies. I won’t sit here and try to argue that there’s one kind I love more than any other, because I’ve seen so many that I can find one from any genre that I absolutely adore. Still, I have extra respect for movies that push the boundaries of what can/should be done in film. I love any film that goes out of its way to defy the medium and any established rules of filmmaking. Within these terms, I’ll mention a few favorites: Mulholland Drive (2001), Pierrot Le Fou (1965), Persona (1966), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), and Gummo (1997) stand out above many others to me. If I had to pick a favorite genre, it’d probably be horror, but if it ever comes down to movies I’m ready to talk all day about them. 

Sample Heavy Music - I adore the art of sampling. Few things give me as much of a genuine rush as when I’m listening to an album and I recognize the origin of a sample used in a song. My favorite album of all time is “Since I Left You” by The Avalanches, an album under the Plunderphonics subgenre that is made up of between 900 to 3,500 different samples, depending on who you ask. It is an album full of lively, danceable tunes that I cannot recommend enough. Other artists I love for their sampling abilities are Daft Punk, DJ Shadow, the Beastie Boys, MF DOOM, Madlib, Earl Sweatshirt, and Boards of Canada. 

Varying Kinds of Literature - I would hesitate to call myself well read, but I do try my best to read as much as I can. I think the novel is one of the most powerful mediums, since it can be formed in any way the author sees fit. It is truly a playground for creativity and I’ve found great pleasure in many kinds of literature, so I’ll name a few writers and works I love: Cormac McCarthy (Blood Meridian, All The Pretty Horses), Flannery O’Connor (Wise Blood, A Good Man is Hard to Find, Good Country People), David Foster Wallace (Infinite Jest, Good Old Neon), Thomas Pynchon (Inherent Vice, Gravity’s Rainbow), and Toni Morrison (Beloved). I think what I love most about these writers/works is how much they all utilize the flexibility of the novelistic form to create worlds and characters that could not be rendered in any other medium, or at least would be very difficult to. 

Design Prejudices: 

Minimalistic or Overly Plain Branding: I know many people generally despise the concept of branding as a whole, but I think I’ve pretty much come to terms with its universality. I often find that I grow attached to some kinds of branding, particularly logos, which upsets me even more whenever companies go out of their way to “rebrand” to some minimalistic junk. I understand the need (or perceived need) to appear modern/sleek/cool but to me there is nothing cool about something that looks like it can belong to any old brand. Some entities who I believed have changed their branding for the worse over the years: Pringles, Snapple, La Liga, Firefox, and Google. God forbid they do anything to the Coca-Cola logo. 

Clothing With the Brand Name on It: This one is real specific. I won’t pretend that I have a clue when it comes to fashion; my method for getting dressed every day is to wear whatever happens to be at the top of my drawer. Still, I find that I simply refuse to buy any clothing where the brand’s or store’s name is just blasted onto the front of it. The worst for this are places like Hollister, Aeropostale, even some of the hype-beast luxury brands, but special mention to Gap because I didn’t think I could hate 3 plain letters on a hoodie so much. 

Sitcoms About Nice/Overly Dumb People: Full disclosure, I have a dark sense of humor (within reason, obviously). I find that what makes me laugh in comedy is people acting completely awful. Think shows like It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Seinfeld, Curb Your Enthusiasm, and Veep. It works best because it shows the absurdity of life and the situations that arise from it. That’s why so many other comedies simply don’t work for me; they’re too focused on being nice that they just end up feeling toothless and milquetoast. I won’t name the shows I don’t like out of respect (it’s hard to write and direct!) but it’s something that always gets on my nerves. 

[ausetkmt]

Activists are posting their hauls on TikTok to raise public awareness.

Liz Wilson, 37, a mother of two in Pennsylvania, diving head first into a dumpster outside a store. She posts her finds on TikTok, where she is known by her 1.2 million followers as Salty Stella.Credit...Cory Foote for The New York Times

Nov. 21, 2022Updated 5:11 p.m. ET

At the third Duane Reade of the night, Anna Sacks, 31, a dumpster diver who goes by @trashwalker on TikTok, hit the jackpot. Half a dozen clear trash bags sat along Second Avenue not far from her home on Manhattan’s Upper East Side.

Kneeling on the ground, Ms. Sacks untied the bags with a gloved hand and, using her iPhone flashlight, pulled out her haul: Tresemmé hair spray. Rimmel London Stay Glossy lip gloss. Two bags of Ghirardelli sea salt caramels. Six bags of Cretors popcorn mix. Wet mop refills. A Febreze air freshener. Toe warmers. A bottle of Motrin. All of it unopened, in the packaging and far from the expiration date.

“Oh my God,” said Ms. Sacks, digging out a 6-pack with one can missing. “My mom loves Diet Dr Pepper.”

The total value was perhaps $75, but money wasn’t the point. Ms. Sacks, a former investment bank analyst, films her “trash walks,” as she calls them, and posts the videos to expose what she sees as the wastefulness of retailers who toss out returned, damaged or otherwise unwanted items instead of repurposing them.

Fed up with the profligate practice, dumpster divers like Ms. Sacks have started posting videos of their haul on TikTok in recent years as a way of shaming corporations and raising awareness of the wasteful behavior.

A search of #dumpsterdiving on TikTok brings up tens of thousands of videos that collectively have billions of views. They include a video by Tiffany Butler, known as Dumpster Diving Mama, who found several handbags in the trash last year outside a Coach store in Dallas, all of them apparently slashed by employees. Ms. Sacks bought the bags and made a TikTok calling out the fashion brand. After the video went viral and sparked outrage (and was picked up by Diet Prada), Coach said it would stop “destroying in-store returns of damaged, defective, worn and otherwise unsalable goods,” and instead try to reuse them.

Most of the dumpster activists target mass retailers like CVS, TJ Maxx, HomeGoods and Party City. Luxury fashion brands tend to keep a tighter control over their excess inventory and sometimes pay to have unsold items burned.

A video posted this month by Liz Wilson, 37, a mother of two in Bucks County, Pa., who goes by Salty Stella, shows a dumpster at a nearby HomeGoods store filled with Halloween-themed mugs, plates, dog bowls and holiday decorations. “This is absolutely horrendous,” Ms. Wilson told her 1.2 million TikTok followers. “The only reason these things were thrown away is because Halloween is over.”

Ella Rose, who goes byGlamourDDive, posted a video two months ago showing a dumpster outside a TJ Maxx store, filled with Zara dresses,grooming products by Fekkai and clothing from Victoria’s Secret.

At a time when corporations tout their commitment to the environment, the sight of $500 handbags or even $6 Ghirardelli chocolates discarded in a dumpster can be a bad look.

“Corporations don’t want people to see the overproduction, the wastefulness, the lack of donation,” said Ms. Sacks, who has 400,000 followers and has received significant media coverage. “To change behavior, it’s important to expose the wastefulness.”

Michael O’Heaney, executive director of The Story of Stuff Project, an environmental group in Berkeley, Calif., that raises awareness about waste through storytelling, called Ms. Sacks and other eco-minded dumpster divers “metal detectors for flaws in the system.” “What they’re finding in the trash are a fascinating lens into our waste economy,” said Mr. O’Heaney, whose organization recently filmed a trash walk with Ms. Sacks.

Some do more than just raise awareness. Ms. Wilson puts together “Stella’s Kits” — which contain feminine hygiene supplies like pads, tampons and flushable wipes assembled from dumpster dives — and distributes them at homeless shelters and other places where women experience what is known as period poverty.

While Ms. Wilson also posts to YouTube and Instagram, she said that her videos get the most reactions on TikTok. “People are just shocked and saddened,” she said. “Every day, I get the same reaction: ‘Oh, my god. Why do stores do this?’”

Mark Cohen, the director of retail studies at Columbia Business School, said that the practice is based on the cold calculation that “the simplest and most expediate way for a retailer to dispose of something, typically of low value, is to mark it out of its stock and dump it.”

Merchandise that was returned cannot always be resold because of regulations meant to protect consumer’s health — including food, some over-the-counter drugs and health and beauty aids, Mr. Cohen said. Items that have been damaged or worn, or are out of season like holiday decorations, may have lost too much value, even for third-party buyers.

“As egregious as it is to see seemingly perfect product put into a landfill,” Mr. Cohen said, “it’s the shortest and least expensive path.”

Activists like Ms. Wilson and Ms. Sacks would prefer to see retailers donate items to charitable organizations and others in need. “We should be incentivizing corporations ideally to produce less in general,” Ms. Sacks said, but if that’s not possible, they should “donate or sell it through, or store it for the next year, rather than destroy it.”

Many retailers say that they do, in fact, donate unsold goods, but some merchandise still needs to be sent to landfills. “The thought that everything leftover can be donated is a nice thought to hold,” but unrealistic, Mr. Cohen said.

CVS, for example, said it diverted 50 percent of its unsold merchandise last year to recycling or reuse, and donated about $140 million worth of goods to charities including Feeding America. CVS works “with nonprofit organizations to arrange for damaged or near-expired goods from our stores to be donated to communities in need,” said Ethan Slavin, a spokesman.

Andrew Mastrangelo, a spokesman for TJX, the parent company of TJ Maxx and HomeGoods, said that “only a very small percentage of merchandise from our stores goes unsold,” and that most of the unsold merchandise is bought by third parties or donated to charities.

Walgreens, which owns Duane Reade, said it donated 10 million pounds of goods in 2021. “Walgreens works diligently to divert from landfill unsold or discontinued products such as food, toiletries and household items,” said Candace Johnson, a spokeswoman.

Even so, some items cannot be donated, including perishable products within one month of expiration. “Products that do not meet applicable standards for donation or liquidation,” Ms. Johnson added, “may be discarded in the trash.”

Discarded merchandise is perhaps most abundant around the holiday season. Last Halloween, Ms. Wilson said she found more than 120 Halloween-themed dish towels outside two HomeGoods stores near her home, all in perfect condition.

Ms. Wilson has a circuit of dozens of retailers around southeastern Pennsylvania that she visits every week. She never comes up empty. “I could go to a dumpster today and get a bunch of stuff,” Ms. Wilson said, “and go back to the same dumpster 24 hours later and find new stuff in it.”

[kelyon]

Courtship 14: Bridesmaids

Lacey tells her friends about the wedding

Read on AO3

Wednesday morning, Miss French opened Game of Thorns and worked the morning shift, accompanied by the sullen, silent presence of her father. At noon, she got ready for her weekly lunch with Janine and Mara. She decided to wear all new clothes today. The future Mrs. Gold had to look her best at all times. 

She started with a tight gray pencil skirt that went down to her knees. At Modern Fashions, she had managed to find thick socks that went up to her thighs but didn’t connect in the middle. That would keep her warm while still following Mr. Gold’s rule about having as little as possible covering her up. The socks were boring black, so she livened up the look with a pair of burgundy leather boots. Her top was a luscious maroon, almost see-through if she didn’t wear a camisole underneath. She had camisoles now, five of the same shirt in different colors. Once, that would have been an unthinkable luxury.

The only thing she didn’t have new was underwear. Modern Fashions had a limited selection of black and beige granny panties, and the bras were equally dumpy. Miss French deserved something more interesting than that. Well, Mr. Gold deserved something more interesting than that. She had been waiting for the right opportunity to visit Mara’s lingerie boutique. Maybe today, after lunch, after she picked up her birth control from the pharmacy. 

Leaning into her mirror to put makeup on, Miss French tried not to contemplate what being on birth control would mean for her. Of course she didn’t want kids now, so Mr. Gold was right to stop that process before it could start. But she had always thought that she’d have children someday. Some nebulous future after college and a career and a husband and a house. Of course, those blurry dreams always had Mom around, enjoying being a grandmother.

“Fuck!” She’d stabbed herself with her eyeliner pencil. Tears welled up in her eyes and she quickly blotted them with toilet paper. “Fucking cheap shit.”

She would get new makeup at the pharmacy. Mr. Gold had given her enough money for it. She’d buy out the whole department, get the most expensive brands in every color they had. 

Blinking and squinting, Miss French salvaged the rest of her eye makeup. Examining herself in the mirror, she looked good. She looked like Miss French, like the future Mrs. Gold. This was her first time showing off this side of herself to the big wide world. She’d better make a damn good impression.

****

This time, it was Mara who was first at Granny’s. When she saw Miss French from across the diner, she mimed a face of shock and awe. 

“You look so good!” she said. “What’s going on? Do you have a business meeting later? Are you pitching Game of Thorns to some venture capitalists in Boston?”

“No, nothing like that,” Miss French laughed. She took off her hat and new coat, but left her gloves on. “I do have good news, but I want to wait until Janine gets here before I say anything.”

They didn’t wait long. Janine burst in, her salon smock peeking out from underneath her parka. After a round of hugs, she slid in the booth next to Mara. 

“Hey strangers,” she said. “Sorry I’m late. The month started yesterday and I am booked.”

“Told you!” Mara said. “One week! That’s all it takes to flip your life upside down.”

Miss French laughed at that, a little too loudly. It was true! A week ago she had just finished her first date with Mr. Gold and now she was getting ready to marry him. 

“Hey.” She put her gloved hand flat on the table to get their attention. “You guys order whatever you want, okay? Full meals. It’s on me.” 

“Ooh, la di da!” Mara grinned. “Does this have to do with your good news?”

“You have good news?” Janine asked. “God knows we need more of that.”

“Let’s order first.” Miss French hid her coy smile behind her menu. 

When Ruby the waitress stopped by the table, Janine and Mara both looked at her for confirmation before they ordered. She nodded enthusiastically. 

“So,” Mara said when they were done. “Spill the beans. What the heck is going on?”

Miss French took a deep breath. Her heart was racing. She tried to pretend it was just excitement, that she didn’t have a shred of fear about telling her two best friends the best news of her life. 

Slowly, deliberately, she took off first her right glove, then her left. She held out her left hand for them to see her ring. It took them a second to put the pieces together.

“Oh my God,” Janine whispered. “Did you get married?”

“Not yet,” Miss French said. “This is sort of a combination, an engagement ring and a wedding ring at the same time.”

“Wha--” Mara kept shaking her head. “When? Who?”

“There’s a man that I’ve been dating for a while. I wasn’t sure what it was so I didn’t want to tell you guys, but then on Sunday he proposed.”

“Oh my God!” Janine squealed. “That’s amazing! But I can’t believe you didn’t tell us! You sneak!” 

“It all happened pretty fast,” Miss French admitted. 

“How fast?” Mara asked. “How long have you had a secret lover?”

Miss French giggled. “Not too fast. I know getting married is a big step, but I really think I’m ready for it. And of course I want you two to be my bridesmaids.”

“Oh, Lacey!” Janine’s smile filled up her face. “Of course! God, we used to dream about being in each other’s weddings!”

“Have you set a date yet?” Mara asked. “And who the heck is your husband?” 

“It’s actually coming up really fast,” Miss French said. “It’s gonna be on February twelfth, at Dodici’s.”

“Wait, the twelfth? Next Saturday?” Mara looked her up and down. “Are you pregnant?”

“No!”

“It’d be okay if you were. We’d support you.” That came from Janine, who was already supporting her mother and sister--and failing at it.

“I’m not!” Miss French repeated. “That’s not what’s going on.”

“Yeah, Uncle Moe isn’t really the shotgun type.”

“So why so fast?” Mara asked.

Miss French shrugged. “When you find someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

“Who is this guy?” Mara was almost shouting now. “You never talked this way when you were dating Hunter.”

“Yeah, and Hunter was a catch,” Janine said. “Cool, rich and gorgeous? You were so lucky.”

“He was alright,” Miss French shrugged. “But I’m doing a lot better than Hunter now.”

“A lot better with…?” 

Mara wouldn’t let this go. The fact that it was a perfectly reasonable question only made it more awkward that she didn’t want to answer. For just a few more minutes, she wanted to bask in her friends’ celebration. She wanted to stay in the fantasy that they would embrace and support her and the man she chose to marry. That they would have no reason not to. 

She got a break when Ruby came back with their lunches. The waitress set their orders down, made sure everything was correct, and went on her way.

“I’m serious, Lacey,” Mara said as she took a bite of her lobster roll. “If you don’t tell us who you’re marrying, I’m gonna drag you into the harbor by your nostrils and stick you under water until you do.”

Miss French smiled sheepishly, and added extra pickles to her burger. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out.”

“Why would we freak out?” Janine cut into her lasagna. 

“Well, my dad freaked out when I told him. So did my uncle Manny.”

“Yeah, well they’re old farts,” Mara said. “We’re the hip, cool, new generation. And we’re your friends, so we’re on your side no matter what.”

“Really?” Lacey’s heart leapt to her throat..

“Yeah!” Mara said. Janine nodded her agreement. 

“Okay,” Miss French took a deep breath. “And just… understand that this isn’t as bad as you might think it is.”

“Why all these cautions?” Mara asked. “Did you sell your soul to Lucifer or something?”

“No,” she said softly. “No, it’s not like that. It’s… It’s Mr. Gold.”

There was a moment’s silence. 

Janine’s eyebrows furrowed. “What about Mr. Gold?”

“It’s him. He’s the man. I’m… going to marry him.”

Her friends’ expressions were exactly the same: Shock giving way to horror and sorrow. Janine set her fork down and looked at her lasagna like she had found a severed thumb inside it. Mara kept trying to say something and kept failing. 

“W-W-W-Why?” she finally managed. “Lacey, are you okay? Does he have something over you? You know you have options. You can go to Sheriff Graham. Do you need us to give you money?”

“You don’t have money,” Miss French said coolly. “And I told you, this isn’t a bad thing. I like Mr. Gold. I want to marry him.”

“You--you can’t,” Janine sounded like she was about to cry. “He’s so old. And he’s so horrible.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“You can only say that because you don’t owe him money.” 

“No, I owe him more than that,” she said. “He’s given me things you can’t even imagine. And I love it. I want more of it. I’m going to marry him and I want you guys to be there with me. Please.”

Mara set down her lobster roll. She seemed to have put together where all this newfound cash was coming from. 

“He’ll pay for your dresses!” Miss French tried. “And Janine, you can do my hair! Do one of those crazy updos you like to do? I’ll pay you for your time!”

“Lacey,” her cousin whispered. 

“Me being in this position will be a good thing for all of us,” she went on. “Mr. Gold throws money at me, I can pass it on! I can help you guys!”

“Oh my God, he pays you?” Disgust painted Mara’s face. “And you take it?”

“Yeah, I take everything he gives me,” Miss French snapped. “Take it any way he wants me to.”

“And you’re proud of this?” Mara shook her head. “Lacey, don’t you know what this makes you?”

“A whore,” Miss French said bluntly. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m marrying him, so I won’t be a whore anymore.”

“What will you be?” Mara went on. “You think people will call you any less of a golddigger just because you’re wearing a ring? Do you think he won’t know you’re bought and paid for? Lacey, he’ll use that as an excuse to do anything to you!”

“That’s what I’m hoping for!”

“I mean he’ll treat you like shit. This is a classic recipe for you being in danger.”

“I’m not in danger.” She rolled her eyes. “Mr. Gold isn’t a monster. He’s just a man who gets what he wants--and right now, he wants me! I think that’s great!”

Janine seemed to have shut down for a few minutes. When she finally looked up, her sky blue eyes were full of tears. “You’ll be a totally different person once you’re married to him. You’re already different.”

“Yeah, that’s the point,” Miss French said sharply. “I want to be different. I want to be better. Mr. Gold is my ticket to an actual life and not just scraping by to survive all the time. And I can find ways to take you with me! He told me he wants me to take care of you two. We can do this together!”

“Do you mean…?” Mara made a face. 

“No! No, of course not.”

“He’ll ask for something like that,” Janine said. “You know a man like that is probably some kind of pervert.”

“He’s the best kind of pervert,” Miss French told them proudly. “He’s the kind of pervert I’m into.” 

“Oh my God.” Janine covered her mouth with her hand. “How could you do this, Lacey?”

Defeated, Miss French slumped in her booth. “Why did I think you two would be different? Like, I understand my dad going apeshit because I’m having sex with a man he personally hates, but I thought you guys would get it.”

“He’s a bad man,” Janine whispered. “He’ll make you do bad things.”

She scoffed. “You sound like a child. That’s how Chloe would understand the world.”

“She’s not wrong,” Mara said. “I don’t think this relationship is good for you, and I know that being married to him will be worse. Worse for you, Lacey. He will hurt you!”

“That’s what I get off on,” Miss French said in a catty stage whisper. “I like the way Mr. Gold treats me. I want to be the person he thinks I can be.”

“Oh God!” Janine said again. She pushed herself away from the table and ran crying into the bathroom.

Mara gave her a withering look, then ran after her friend.

Miss French stayed where she was. She ate her burger, and waited for them to come back. They would come back. If nothing else, they wouldn’t waste a free lunch. 

Would they?

After waiting for half an hour, she tossed a fifty on the table and left. 

****

She stormed the short walk from Granny’s to Dark Star Pharmacy. Those fucking bitches. Those small-minded, puritanical idiots! Couldn’t they see what was right in front of them? Were they so blinded by hate and fear that anything to do with Mr. Gold automatically became unclean? Who were they to tell her what she could and couldn’t do? Who were they to judge her? Fucking virgins, so obsessed with being good they’d never get a chance be alive.

She ground her teeth.

It wasn’t fair. She wanted to be with Mr. Gold. He made her feel happy, he made her feel everything. Why couldn’t anyone in her life understand that? Why did gaining him mean she had to lose them?

Was it really too much to ask for both?

When she got to the pharmacy, she grabbed a basket and immediately started filling it with the most expensive things you could find in a drug store in Storybrooke. The brand-name organic lotion in all the offbeat scents? She got one of each. The salon-approved shampoo and conditioner for curly hair? Yes please! Shaving cream and razors, nail polish and face masks, she got all of it. Everything she’d ever thought was too indulgent to spend on herself. Everything she used to think she was a better person for not using. Lacey French hadn’t needed to fuss over her appearance, her brains would carry her everywhere.

But she wasn’t that girl anymore. Mrs. Gold would be a stupid slut and she’d have more luxuries than that delusional child could ever have dreamed of.

She rounded the corner and found herself in the magazine aisle. There was a girl, maybe twelve or so, with lank dark hair and owlish eyes that were too big for her face. She was staring at the magazines, at the models and celebrities with big boobs and perfect smiles. Her expression was something between rapture and starvation. 

Lacey recognized the feeling. The bone-deep hunger for the lives that you knew were fake but wanted to be real. It was frivolity and vanity, but it was also joy and glamour. To be the girl everyone looked at--or even just the girl who could fit in with the girls everyone looked at. To be wanted and idolized. To always wear the right clothes, say the right words, be the right person. To be pretty, effortlessly pretty. To sparkle and shine and feel like you can do anything.

And then to hate yourself for wanting something you’d never have. Something that no one ever really has. Even the models on the magazines don’t really live the life they’re selling. You’re smart enough to know it's a lie but you still hate yourself for not having it. You want to believe in the dream, want it so much more than anything in your real life. 

The girl looked at Miss French, head tilted, mouth open a little. The kid was dressed in loose jeans and dirty sneakers. Her top half was covered by an insulated hoodie big enough to belong to a grown man. She looked at Miss French in a form-fitting wool coat and burgundy boots. She looked at the styled hair, the makeup it had taken her half an hour to get right. 

Miss French caught the girl’s eye and winked. “It gets better,” she said. “You won’t be in middle school forever.”

Then she grabbed a copy of Vogue and a copy of Cosmopolitan and put them in her basket. It was getting heavy now, so she might as well check out. She went to the prescription pick-up counter and waited for Mr. Clark, the short little pharmacist who was always sneezing. 

“Hi!” she said when he came to the counter. It was easier now to be bright and chipper, to play the role of Mr. Gold’s fiancee. “I’m here to pick up a prescription.”

“Oh right.” Mr. Clark nodded, then turned his head to sneeze into his elbow. “Dr. Whale called me at home last night for this. He said the order came from Mr. Gold?”

“Mmm-hmm!” Miss French smiled. 

Mr. Clark gave her a puzzled look. “You’re Lacey French, right? From the flower shop? Why is Gold throwing his weight around to get you an express prescription?”

Her anger came back with a vengeance. She didn’t owe answers to a pharmacist. She was going to be Mrs. Gold. She didn’t owe anything to anyone. At that moment, something inside her turned sharp and hard and brittle. The hot lava of her rage solidified into an obsidian blade.

She smiled.

“Well you can see what the pills are, can’t you?” Her voice was cheerful and patronizing, like she was talking to a kindergartner she was trying not to murder. 

“Yeah.” The pharmacist was oblivious. He looked down at the label on the white paper bag. “It’s birth control.”

Miss French leaned over the counter to get in his snot-nosed face. “Why do you think Mr. Gold is buying me birth control? Hmm? I’ll give you a hint--it’s not so I can fuck anybody else!”

“Jesus,” he whispered. “Look, I’m sorry, I--” He turned away for another sneeze, then came back, wiping his nose. He stuck the used tissue in his pants pocket. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Yeah, well you did,” Miss French said. “So why don’t you just check me out and I can move on with my life?”

The pharmacist exhaled a long breath. After a quick moment to douse his hands with sanitizer, he began to ring up her stuff.

****

As she left the pharmacy, Miss French looked down the street towards Mr. Gold’s shop. Part of her wanted to run to him. She wanted to take refuge in the steady warmth of his presence. She wanted to unburden herself, tell him what a rotten day she was having, that she’d been betrayed and abandoned by people she’d known since she was born. Maybe he would listen to her, maybe he’d have good advice. Or maybe he’d just fuck her until those bitches didn’t matter anymore. Maybe he’d punish her for needing them so much in the first place.  

But he hadn’t asked her to visit him today, and she didn’t want to interrupt his work. She couldn’t go demanding his time and attention over every little thing that bothered her. Mr. Gold was a busy man, an important man. When he focused on her, it was because she was important. She couldn’t ask for that all the time. 

Besides, she was an adult. She could deal with stuff on her own, especially this petty shit. Mr. Gold had given her money and a shadow of his power. She wore his ring and soon she would have his name. What did it matter what lesser people thought of her? What did it matter that a pharmacist gawked? What did it matter that a hairdresser and a lingerie seller might never talk to her again?

She was going to be Mrs. Gold. She had better start acting like it.