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fbfh · 2 years

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rodrick x hyperfeminine reader hcs

wc: 2.3k

genre: mutual pining, contrasting aesthetics

pairing: rodrick x hyperfeminine reader (fem/she her/referred to as a girl)

summary: you're new at school and it takes a painfully long time for you to find the only hot guy there. he's had a massive painful crush on you since you first set foot through the door.

warnings: reader is a little insecure/anxious and copes through hyperfemininity, rodrick has low self esteem and dyslexia, they both think they have no chance with the other one, jocks keep asking you out, you're friends with Heather and Madison

a/n: obsessed with this dynamic. when you finally date everyone is so fucking confused lmao

@dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @yesv01

First of fucking all

Match made in heaven

On your first day of school at Crossland you turned a whole lot of heads

You figure you should make a statement and decide to channel your idol, Elle Woods

You show up to school in a pink mini skirt blazer set, a little halter top with a heart cut out, and matching pink heels

You’re obviously rocking your signature scent, strawberry pound cake body spray and matching strawberry fizz flavored lip gloss

You did a mani pedi and a facial over the weekend to destress

You walk in quickly to avoid the people that are staring at you for some reason, unintentionally strutting through the halls in a way that appears totally confident

You reach the office to get your schedule and tuck it into your heart shaped bag along with your sunglasses

You make sure to smile and be extra friendly with all the teachers and administrative staff, and in every class where you have to introduce yourself over and over, you try to project what you hope is an approachable friendliness

People were already starting to whisper about the living barbie doll that just showed up out of nowhere, and these whispers reached none other than Heather Hills

She grabs Madison and tries to hunt you down

To confront you for trying to steal her place as the prettiest most popular girl there

Before she can threaten you, you’re asking her where the good boutiques in town are

You have such a unique, sunshiney charm that she totally forgets what she came to talk to you about

Before she knows it, you and her and Madison have plans to go shopping this weekend

You praise yourself for making a couple friends on the first day, not realizing you accidentally waltzed your way into the elusive popular girl clique

By the end of the day, you have entirely by accident established yourself as queen bee of the school

As time goes on, you’re relieved that at least some of the people at Crossland are so friendly

Sometimes people say hi to you, and you always reply with a smile or wave or hi back

But a lot of the time people just stare at you

You’re somewhat used to it since not a lot of people wear nearly as much pink as you do

Or glitter

Or use a fuzzy pink strawberry scented glitter gel pen for all their homework

So you try to chalk it up to that

As the days go on, everyone thinks they know exactly what to expect from you

You’re like Heather 2.0, just a little nicer

Which is almost worse

When Heather is mean to everyone she doesn’t like (which is almost everyone) at least they have a reason to hate her

But you??

You’re so elusive

You don’t have a ton of friends, you don’t go out of your way to go party unless Heather and Madison drag you there

But what’s weird is that you’ve turned down every guy who’s actually worked up the courage to ask you out

Every single guy at crossland wants to ask you out

But when the captain of the football team

And the quarterback

And the hottest guy in your grade all asked you out

And the whole school watched you politely turn them down one after the other

No one else thought they stood a chance

Heather and Madison think you’re crazy for turning them down

“I just… I’m not really into guys like that.” you say dismissively

“Hot jocks?” Heather demands

You would have said the type of guys who’d have bullied you in middle school, but now doesn’t seem like the right time to bring that up

“Yeah.” you agree, and eventually they stop pressing you

Your status of queen bee is even more solidified by the rumors rampantly spreading that not only are you unimaginably hot

But you’re also impossible to date

This becomes common knowledge after a while

Until one day when you’re running late to school

Heather’s still complaining about having to turn around and pick up her sister

“I mean, you were the one who forgot her at your house…” Madison starts, piping down fast when Heather glares at her

As you all get out of her convertible, tires screech behind you

A beat up white van with spray paint writing on the side parks haphazardly next to the curb

Muffled guitar and drums blast out of the car speakers, and as the driver opens the door, you recognize it as green day

Your eyes widen, and you lag behind to try and get a look at the driver

Heather’s ranting about something, and Madison grabs your arm, pulling you along as you watch the driver stumble out and trip on the curb

He has messy black hair, eyeliner, and he’s wearing a well loved ramones shirt

As if that wasn’t enough, he shoves the drumsticks he’s holding into his back pocket, poking out awkwardly

“Who is that?” you ask

Heather and Madison whip around, ecstatic that you finally found someone at school you think is hot

They scan the scattered crowd of other late students trying to make it inside before first bell

“Who?” Heather demands, looking straight past the guy at the captain of the football team who you’d turned down for the fourth time earlier this week. “Brent? You know Brent.”

A twinge of jealousy flashing through her voice as she finishes, desperate for more information

“No,” you say, pointing. “The guy who looks like Billie Joe Armstrong.”

“Who?” they both demand, still looking right past him

“Black hair, black shirt…”

Finally they see him

“Heffley??” Heather demands, holding back a gag at his name. “No, no, no. Not him, anyone but him.”

She shudders, pushing past both of you to go inside

You’re stuck in place, watching him greet his friends and laugh loudly as they shove each other hello

Madison leans in close

“That’s Rodrick. His god awful band ruined Heather’s sweet 16 and she’s still pissed about it. Going near him is social suicide.”

It suddenly makes sense that you haven’t bumped into the only hot guy at school yet

If you’re always with Heather and Heather avoids him like the plague…

Madison drags you inside, and you’re already trying to figure out a way to talk to him

Just because you didn’t know Rodrick exited before now, doesn’t mean he hasn’t been drooling over you since you showed up at Crossland

“Uh, dude… was she just staring at you?” Ward says once Madison finally drags you inside, forcing you to break your unwavering stare you had locked on Rodrick

He turns around quickly, looking for a more logical explanation for you looking in his direction as some football players walk past

“She must have been looking at Brent.” he decides

“No dude,” Ben punches his arm, “she was totally making eyes at you.”

They all laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement as he drags himself to his first class of the day

He can’t focus even more than usual

Were you staring at him? Making eyes at him like Ben had said?

He stares at the back of your head in all your shared classes, which is a lot of them, just like he always does

And just like always, his mind starts to wander

Of course he’s down stupid bad for you, he doesn’t know anyone that’s not

He wonders what you smell like, what you look like up close

He wonders what your hands would feel like on his body, if you’d drag your pretty manicured nails across his skin

He imagines kissing you in such vivid detail it feels real for a few moments

Then he starts to wonder what you’d taste like

Probably bubblegum, you usually chew it between periods when you won’t get in trouble for it

He wonders if your lip gloss is flavored

God, since the first day you showed up in this shithole he’s been thinking about you

He’s had countless dreams about you to

He always goes right back to sleep hoping he can see you again, feel your body against his, feel your lips on his skin one more time

He knows it’s hopeless, knows that even if you’ve seen him around and are vaguely aware of his existence, you don’t know his name

And why would you want to??

He’s such a teenage dirtbag he practically has rights to the song

Plus Brent is still determined to get you to go out with him

He considers himself your boyfriend already and has been threatening anyone who stares at you more than normal

Even if he could get past Brent and his own debilitating self doubt and low self esteem, you’re with Heather and Madison constantly, who still think he’s worse than mold after the incident and Heather’s sweet 16

You’re literally untouchable

Even still, he doesn’t think he’s ever had a crush this bad

Not even back when he liked Heather

The only way he can get through classes is by spacing out the whole time (his teachers expect nothing less of course) and imagining you marching right up to him and sitting on his lap to make out with him

The only notes he takes anymore are scribbled song lyrics about you until his hand cramps up and he gets one of those nausea headache he gets from trying to write or read too much

He thinks about you so much

It’s getting to the point where he’s thinking about you all the time

And he has absolutely no idea what to do about it

Because he doesn’t stand a chance

There’s no way in hell he could approach you, much less get you to go out with him

Plus you’ve literally turned down every guy that’s asked you out this year

Why would you want to go out with him???

Heather and Madison are wondering the same thing

You could easily pull anyone in this entire school

And now you’re making eyes at Heffley out of nowhere????

It doesn’t make sense

They can’t pay attention for the rest of the day

Neither can you

You spend the entire day trying to figure out how to talk to him (you could just walk over to him)

How to get his attention (you already have it)

How to set up the perfect scenario to make him fall for you (he fell hard and fast long before now and has not recovered)

A party

You have to throw a party and get his band to play

Then you can corner him after the show to buy a cd and see if you can get it to go somewhere

It’s perfect

Plus Heather’s been telling you that you should throw at least one party before the school year is over

You tell Heather you want to throw a party this weekend

She’s ecstatic, thinking you’re finally moving on to something better to focus on

She and Madison are so busy helping you get everything ready they don’t notice you staring at Rodrick in the halls every chance you get and never managing to get him to look over at you

You’re so busy throwing an elaborate rager of a party to try and seduce him like Jay Gatsby that you don’t notice him staring at you when you’re not looking too

You can’t let anything ruin your chance with Rodrick

Nothing can possibly go wrong

So when Brent asks you out again at lunch you turn him down more definitively than you have before

You tell him you’re just not into him like that, and to please stop asking you out

He’s never had someone tell him that they’re not attracted to him and want nothing to do with him

It was definitely a much needed blow to his self esteem

Rumors that you broke up with Brent (even though you weren’t dating in the first place) spread like wildfire

So after school when you manage to slip away from Heather and Madison for long enough to approach Rodrick and ask him and his band to play at your party this weekend

It feels like a fucking dream

Not only do they have a gig

But it’s at your party????

It feels fake

It feels like something his touch starved hormonal brain would concoct to distract him from what he should be thinking about

They start trying to figure out sets and extra practice time before your party

And Ben insists the whole time that you were making eyes at him

Except this time Rodrick kind of believes him

There’s no way this means he has a chance with you, right??

He watches you walk away

And as you walk away, you let out an excited suppressed giggle that you actually talked to him

You’re still flustered and blushing under all your makeup, fanning your warm face as you hop into the passenger seat of Heathers convertible

“What’s up with you?” she asks, noticing your distracted state

“I’m just… really excited for this party.” you smile, biting your lip

You don’t think about a thing other than him for the rest of the day

You decide this party really cannot come soon enough

If you play your cards right

You might even get him to like you back

You ruminate on this as you start picking out an outfit - in your signature pink, of course - completely unaware that Rodrick is already rehearsing for your party

And thinking about you just as much

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader #rodrick #doawk x reader #doawk rodrick #rodrick x girly reader #you make him lose his shit #actively go bonkers for you

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signaturetownhouse · 2 years

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Our Favourite Parks and Green Spaces in West London

People don’t often come to London specifically for the parks and green spaces. They secure themselves a hotel deal near Hyde Park in London but don’t consider the incredible views that will greet them every morning; or they book themselves a ticket to Winter Wonderland or another central London festival and forget that the venue is a vast expanse of greenery and nature in the city.

The London parks, particularly those in West London, are part and parcel of the city scape. Boutique hotels near Hyde Park London only add to the elegant aesthetic of the parks, with Hyde Park accommodation like the Signature Townhouse Hyde Park oozing traditional British glamour in the perfect London snapshot.

And while Hyde Park is very much at the centre of London’s affinity for and love of its green sparks and royal parks, it is not the only outside area that visitors and residents alike can enjoy.

Ealing Common

With an agricultural history, once upon a time Ealing Common was home to grazing and free ranging cattle and fowl, with commoners owning the rights to graze the land. Now, the park is vast and broken into sections by the rows of trees which give it a regal air not unlike the royal Parks located in the centre of the city.

Regents Park

So much more than just a park, Regents Park borders ZSL London Zoo and a plethora of coveted streets with their traditional townhouses and grand exteriors – making it one of the most picturesque and well situated parks in the whole city. It houses a lake with small pedalo boats, endless footpaths, a running track, and sports pitches and fields perfect for family days out.

Kensington Gardens

Kensington Gardens forms a part of Hyde Park – however, it has now become known as a separate park in its own right thanks to the assortment of things to see and enjoy within the borders of this regal green space. The allotment and vegetable patch is quite a sight to see, while Kensington Palace and the Serpentine Gallery are both focal points within the park. The Diana Playground is another must-see, as are the various statues and features dotted around the space.

Bishops Park

If you’re looking for a park which is far enough away from central London to enjoy a little peace, but still boasting plenty to see and do all year round, then this is it. Bishops Park is situated on the edge of the river Thames between Hammersmith and Fulham, and offers the river walk, a dedicated rose garden, an ornamental lake, an urban beach, and a skate park and bowl all within its borders. A great destination for family groups with plenty to do!

London’s love of green spaces

While this blog mentions just four of the popular parks in East London (plus Hyde Park, of course), every corner and street in London conceals new green spaces and natural influences – from the tree lined streets to the small residential squares dotted throughout the city.

#hotel deal near Hyde Park in London #Boutique hotels near Hyde Park London #Hyde Park accommodation #Signature Townhouse Hyde Park

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yandere-daydreams · 6 months

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tw - implied kidnapping, possessive behavior, slight stalking, delusional thoughts.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

Like most tailors, Chiori often finds herself preoccupied with the concept of preservation.

It’s as inevitable as it is unreasonable, for those who work through mediums as impermanent as fabric and textile. To make a piece of clothing is to make something that, by its very definition, cannot last. No matter how fine the silk, no matter how strong the thread, no matter how sturdy her design – colors will fade and stitches will run and eventually, the only thing left of her masterpiece will be a pile of scraps left to rot underneath a bed or among the cobwebs in a forgotten attic corner. Fashion is an even more unforgiving mistress. What does it mean to try and capture the beauty of a single moment in a world that stood for a thousand years before she ever thought to pick up a needle and will stand for a thousand more, when she’s no longer able to? What does it mean that she keeps trying, regardless?

Inevitably, when Chriori thinks about herself and her craft, she thinks about preservation. And, when she thinks about preservation, she thinks about you.

You, in the most generous of sentiments, are the enemy of permanence. Her designs may eventually fall apart, but you seem to tear and shatter all that you touch, to rend the very fabric of reality without ever dropping that achingly oblivious smile. Your first visit to her shop ended with a shattered teacup, your second with a chip to the blade of her favorite pair of sheers, your tenth with a pot of her darkest, blackest dye splattered across an otherwise untouched skein of dove-white silk. Calling you clumsy would be an understatement – you’re a vehicle of pure destruction, an entity of the type of chaos that so often reduces her finest creations to rags. If it wasn’t for the way you apologize so wholeheartedly after each and every offense, the bright optimism written across your expression each time you step through the door of her boutique, she might mistake your drastic lack of coordination for a deliberate act of sabotage. At least, if that were the case, she may be able to find the strength to banish you entirely from her domain.

Her frequent gifts to you – unpaid orders, she assures, items that would just go to waste if left to gather dust on her shelves – are demolished with a similar haste. That, you can blame on the needs of your trade, claim that the clothes of the noble class don’t mix with the work of laborers, but as often as she tries, she fails to see what’s so dangerous about hauling spools of ribbon and crates of lace from one boutique to another. You do your best to mend torn sleeves, to find replacements for missing buttons, but she almost wishes you wouldn’t – that you’d let her claims to you die a swift death rather than defacing them so humiliatingly. In her weakest moments, she considers that being more blatant with her intentions, speaking to you in something other than cutting innuendo and being more transparent in her attempts to carve her name into you, but it wouldn’t make a difference. Your nature, so quick and brash and thoughtless, is contradictory to hers. No number of signatures stitched into the hems of undercollars and lipstick stains pressed into the lining between layers of material can change that.

Certainly, none of it can change the trait Chiori finds most troubling in you – your willing inability to preserve even the most precious of things, yourself. Fontaine is a much more gentle land than Inazuma, but no part of Teyvat is completely free from risk. You brag worryingly often about your run-ins with local monsters, go on at length about having to guard the embroideries she had commissioned from the finest thread-painters in Liyue from fabric-eating slimes and especially fashionable thieves, but all your levity can’t seem to draw your attention from the bruises blossoming upward from your shirt collar, the bandages so often wrapped around knuckles and plastered over your cheeks. Mortality is a concept you seemed to have considered briefly and ultimately discarded, leaving Chiori to try to make something redeemable out of the scraps. It’d be enough to drive anyone mad. It’d be enough to drive any good tailor to extremes.

You are not a delicate fabric. Satin can be properly hemmed and handled with gloves, embroidery glazed over with perfumes and resins, lace held to a candle and burnt into a more sustainable form, but you are not so easily changed. Gowns have no regard for safety or the lack thereof, but you – frustrating, impossible you – seem to actively detest the very idea of it.

You are the enemy of permeance. It’s a thought Chiori often considers, lingers on, obsess over, as she would the safe keeping of any of her proudest works.

But, she finds herself thinking, as she feels the reassuring chill of iron chains again her palm and weighs it against two matching twin cuffs, there’s a chance she may just be pairing you with the wrong materials.

#woman loving wednesday #yandere x reader #yandere x you #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere chiori #chiori x reader #yandere imagines #yandere

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lumiambrose · 3 months

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kaiser x gn!reader, fluff

tw: kaiser, very scuffed german (i refuse to believe that my german is any short of perfection), not proofread!

translations at the end!

today kaiser has decided to whisk you away from your day to day routine for whatever he may have planned. he had that signature smirk on his face, the one that promised something exciting and extravagant (or headache inducing). "come on, get ready," he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "i have a surprise for you."

you couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. sometimes, his arrogance turned into something charming, it was almost endearing the way he got to you. you quickly grabbed your things and got into his car, your heart fluttering with anticipation.

the drive was filled your light banter and the background music of your mixed playlist. he glanced at you occasionally, making sure you were just as excited as he was. "i know you've been eyeing something special, mein schatz," he hinted, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

eventually, you arrived at an upscale boutique, the kind of place where everything screamed luxury and exclusivity. kaiser led you inside, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back. the staff greeted you both with a mix of respect and awe, offering to prepare some champagne while the two of you browsed the store.

"pick anything you like," he said, gesturing to the array of elegant clothes and accessories. "you deserve it."

you browsed through the racks, occasionally glancing at kaiser. his eyes followed you, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. he enjoyed watching you revel in the luxury he provided, knowing that he was the one making you happy.

after selecting a new pair of heels, kaiser insisted on buying a few more items that caught his eye. i mean, what good is a new pair of heels without a new outfit to match. and of course you need a matching bag too. he wanted nothing but to spoil you rotten. "für dich, meine liebe, ist nur das beste," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

after kaiser finished the payment, you left the boutique happily with kaiser following suit carrying your bags. before heading home, the two of you decided to drop by the cafe opposite the boutique. once you ordered and settled down into your booth, kaiser handed you a small box. inside, nestled among delicate tissue paper, was a beautiful necklace. it was an elegant pendant with a diamond in the centre. "just a little something that reminded me of you," he said, his voice softer, more genuine.

you felt a rush of emotions, the weight of his love and the extravagance of his gesture overwhelming you. "thank you, kaiser," you whispered, your eyes meeting his.

he leaned in next to you, his lips brushing against your forehead. "i'll always take care of you," he murmured. "you're the most important person in my life, vergiss das nie, liebe."

as the sun set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you and kaiser sat hand in hand after your successful shopping trip. at the end of the day, these moments were the ones you'd cherish forever. kaiser's love, though wrapped in arrogance and superiority, was undeniable. he had a way of making you feel like the centre of his universe, and for that, you loved him even more.

translations + an:

"mein schatz" -> my darling (literally translated: my treasure),

"für dich, meine liebe, ist nur das beste" -> for you, my love, is only the best

"vergiss das nie, liebe" -> don’t ever forget that, love

german is not my mother tongue but if i don’t put my knowledge to good use then what point is there even in knowing the language.

ps. sorry if my german offended anyone (it offends me too)

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soshirohoshinasimp · 3 months

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"the best husband in the entire world"

“The best husband in the entire world”

Summary: It’s your two year anniversary with Soshiro Hoshina. You have been dating him for two years and you are trying to find him the perfect gift. But the one your looking for is sold out.

Warnings: pet names, and teasing.

Wc: idk maybe 400-500

Note: Apologies for any mistakes. This is my first Fan-Fic I've ever written

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The warm summer breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers as Soshiro Hoshina and Y/N strolled through the city streets, celebrating their two-year anniversary. Their journey together had been filled with laughter, challenges, and countless cherished moments that solidified their bond.

In the days leading up to their anniversary, Y/N wondered over the perfect gift for Soshiro. She knew him well---things that made him happy, his quirks, and the little things that made him smile. Determined to find something meaningful, she searched high and low, visiting shops and browsing online stores, hoping to find the perfect gift.

One sunny afternoon, Y/N found herself in a bustling shopping district, wandering into a quaint boutique tucked away between bustling cafes. The shop's window display caught her eye—a collection of whimsical couple items, including a row of matching mugs. Among them, she carefully looked for "The Best Boyfriend in the Entire World," but to her dismay, they were all sold out. Undeterred, she settled on a mug that proclaimed "The Best Husband in the Entire World," thinking of how it would make Soshiro smile.

On the evening of their anniversary, Soshiro surprised Y/N with dinner at a cozy restaurant they had their first date in their relationship. The aura was intimate, with soft lighting and a playlist of romantic soft jazz playing softly in the background. They reminisced about their first date, the moments that had brought them closer, and their dreams for the future.

After dinner, Y/N shyly presented Soshiro with a small, wrapped box. "Happy anniversary, My love." she said with a nervous yet loving smile.

Curious, Soshiro carefully unwrapped the gift, revealing the white mug decorated with bold black letters. He chuckled warmly, his eyes faint with amusement as he read the lettering. "The Best Husband in the Entire World?" he said laughing "Darling, When did ya get so cheesy?"

His signature laugh.

The one you fell in love with.

Y/N laughing softly. "I know it's a bit cheesy, but I thought you'd like it."

Soshiro's smile softened, his gaze softened as he set the mug down and pulled Y/N into his arms. "I absolutely love it," he murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek. "And I love ya even more."

Y/N's heart fluttered at his words, feeling overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude for the man who had become her entire world and her best friend.

Suddenly, Soshiro reached into his pocket and withdrew a small gift bag. He handed it to Y/N with a sheepish grin. "I couldn't find 'The Best Girlfriend in the Entire World' mug," he explained, his cheeks tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

Curious, Y/N opened the bag to find a mug that said “the best wife in the entire world”

“We aren’t married though~” Y/N said her cheeks hurt from the amount of smiling she was smiling.

“Not yet,” he joked. Deep down, he wasn’t joking.

#fluff #hoshina #hoshina soshiro x reader #kajiu no8 x reader #boyfriend #cute #soshiro hoshina x reader #fem reader #fem pov

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only4miller · 5 months

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WRANGLERS

pairing: modern!sadie adler x f!reader

warnings: really descriptive filth, fingering (r receiving), risky sex, pet name/s (princess), slight praise, not lore accurate sadie (i think), MINORS DNI! (let me know if i missed any.)

summary: You thought Wranglers were definitely your girlfriend's signature jeans, and now, you want to start wearing them too after realizing you look like a goddess in them. She brings you to a Western boutique nearby and you try on a few pairs. Long story short, the both of you get carried away in the dressing room. (requested by @preghero)

a/n at the end.

The warm glow of the sun fought to shine through your stained bathroom windows. Warm water ran down your body as you took an early morning shower to ease the tension in your muscles after a long rough night with Sadie. Sighing, you turned the faucet off; wobbling out of the shower.

Walking out of the bathroom, you rubbed your hair with a towel. You chuckled looking at Sadie — who is still plopped on the bed — with her face flushed red, the sunlight hitting her face just right so that you could see the freckles on her face. Your eyes trailed upwards, observing the scar above her right eye. Her mouth and chin were glistening wet with the release she had chased out of you moments ago. You chuckled to yourself as she tilted her head to look at you. “You gotta wash up, Sadie,” You remarked as you hung the wet towel over the clothes rack.

Sadie lazily stood up from your shared bed and walked over to you; her arms finding their way around your waist, pulling you into a hug. You turned around to face her, wiping the stray strands of hair away from her face so that you could see it clearly. You place a small peck on her cheek, your lips glossed with your spend as you lightly nudge her into the bathroom.

This earned a chuckle from her as she walked inside the bathroom and shut the door. You smiled to yourself as you opened your closet, grabbed matching underwear then looked for something casual to wear. As you went through your shared closet, a pair of bootcut Wrangler jeans caught your attention. You pulled it out from the closet and held it in front of you.

It was a dark blue denim, similar to what Sadie usually wore. You flipped it around, examining the back. You placed it in front of your waist as you walked in front of a mirror, seeing if it would suit you. “She won’t kill me if I borrow this, right?” You mumbled to yourself as you tried to decide whether you should wear it for today. You lightly shrugged, satisfied with how it looks on you.

You wiggled around as you tried to put it on. This pair was a tad bit tight but damn did it look good on you. You hummed in contentment as you reached over to a separate drawer, opened it and pulled out a matching belt. You walk back to the mirror and put the belt on, smirking and turning around as you check yourself out.

“Well, don’t you look gorgeous, princess?” You jumped a little as you heard Sadie’s voice behind you. She had a towel wrapped around her hair but none around her naked torso. You paused as you watched the water trickle and drip down her body. “I just wanted to try your jeans on,” She looked back at me, eyeing me up and down before a smirk formed on her face. “You look absolutely stunning in them.” Her eyes are still glued on me, she was thinking about something else.

“What do ya say I get you your own pair?”

Your face lit up, “What? Really?” Sadie nodded as she put on her shirt and I squealed. She raised her eyebrows, staring at you in disbelief and amusement. “A few days ago you were bashing me for wearin’ the same kind of jeans every day, and now you want ‘em?”

Chuckling, you looked at her, “Hey, I just realized that they look amazing on me, alright?”

Sadie rolled her eyes and scoffed before speaking, “I know a place.”

“Geez, of course you do.”

“Do you want ‘em or not?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, scoffing as you turned your back to Sadie. You sat on an empty chair while you waited for her to finish getting ready. She pulls out a white button-up shirt and matching black denim pants from your closet. You whistled as she put the pants on, your brows wiggling up and down suggestively. Sadie turns to you, raising an eyebrow in amusement. You laughed hysterically at her face as you stood up and walked to the door.

Sadie led you to a local Western boutique just a couple blocks from your shared apartment. It had luscious vines with blooming flowers running along the side of the walls. Fairy lights ran along each corner and crevice of the store, illuminating the room in a warm yellow glow. The racks were filled with various Western wardrobes, ranging from accessories to shirts and jeans.

You strolled around the aisles, dragging Sadie by her hand. You roamed around the different racks and shelves before your eyes landed on a rack with jeans hung on it. You walked briskly towards it, eyeing a few pairs. “Sadie, help me look, will ya?” She chuckled at you before looking through the rack as well. She pulled out a couple of pairs, holding them out before she hung them over her arm.

“I’m gonna try ‘em on,” You told her as you turned to look for the dressing rooms. You found one near the accessories section and you started walking towards it. Sadie followed suit behind you, her chosen pairs still hung on her arm.

She stalled at the door frame of the dressing room, waiting for you to try the pants on. You looked at her as if expecting something. “What?” She asked, seemingly clueless. “The door genius, are you gonna let everyone see me undress?”

She chuckled and turned around to close the door; not before she walked into the dressing room with you. You opened your mouth to protest but she cut you off before you could. “What? You actin’ like I haven’t seen ya undress before,” You playfully rolled your eyes as you unbuckled your brown leather belt, setting it on a hook behind the door. You inserted your thumbs in the gap between the side of the jeans and your waist and pulled it down until it reached your ankles. You grabbed the jeans before hanging them on the same hook behind the door. You grabbed a pair from the ones you chose as Sadie looked at you expectantly.

She whistled as she watched you put it on, it hugged your curves just right. Her stare was primal; like a predator seeing its prey. She couldn’t help but stare in admiration and lust.

The jeans were tight enough that your ass and thighs stood out, arousing her. The belt you matched was absolutely not helping with how much she wanted to fuck you right then and there. She tried to keep the feelings at bay but the longer she stared at you as you checked yourself out in the mirror, the more she just felt even more hot and bothered. Sadie walks closer and places her hands on your hip, grabbing your attention.

Turning around to face her, you ask, “Hey, do you like this one?” She pauses, her hands now wandering to your waist, “What do you think?” she asked — however, you both knew the answer to that. Her eyes never leave your body; wandering up and down as she took in every inch of you. Your face is flushed as her hand raises to cup your jaw.

Then you blink and her mouth is latched onto yours like a leech, teeth nibbling at your tongue and lips. She pushed you onto the wall, sending a loud bang but neither of you cared when she had you in such a vulnerable position. Her hand flattens against your back as she pushes you against her body. The buttons on your shirt came off as she worked her way through your clothes. Your chest heaved up and down; Sadie quite literally took your breath away.

You felt heat pool between your legs as Sadie fumbled to unbutton your jeans, her hands clammy. She pulls away from the kiss, eyes glaring at you through her lashes. “You have no idea what this does to me,” She says as she finally unbuttoned the jeans, watching it drop to your ankles. Your breath hitches as she brings a finger to your clothed core, teasing your throbbing cunt. You shudder under her touch, thighs pressing together as your cunt hugs around nothing.

As unruly and humiliating as it is — the noises you make as her middle finger hovers over your wet slit; you didn’t care. The muffled sighs and the constant banging on the wall due to being repeatedly pinned to it sent shivers down your spine. “Right here? What if someone sees or hears us?” Your whisper is barely audible as Sadie locks her lips on the sweet spot between your neck and shoulder. “I don't care if you don't,” Was all she could muster as she inserted her digits into your cunt, pulsing with excitement as you grabbed her arms for support when she rams her fingers in at a godforsaken speed and intensity.

A broken yelp escapes your lips but she is quick to use her free hand to cover your mouth; muffling every noise that slips out. The exhilarating fear and excitement of getting caught sent you into overdrive. Your legs tremble underneath you as she maintains this relentless pace; her palm hitting your flared clit as she moved her fingers in and out of your throbbing pussy.

The muted repetition of Sadie’s name echoed as she fingered the living daylights out of you; “You need to stay quiet princess,” Your back involuntarily arched as she coaxed you to stay quiet. Your muffled moans start to break into sobs, the tip of her fingers threatening your cervix.

Footsteps and various conversations could be heard outside of the dressing room and you couldn’t help but wonder if they could hear you. The cramped space and the lingering smell of sandalwood and leather just made this all the better. She clashes her mouth with yours; feeling the shiver of your lips as you neared your climax.

She hummed against your lips, moving her fingers faster. “Good girl, you wanna cum?” Her Southern drawl pulled you out of your trance. You nodded, unable to speak clearly. The thrill of cumming in a public dressing room with a lot of people present outside sent shivers down your spine but you couldn’t care less.

Your walls clench around her digits as she maintains the agonizingly fast pace. Your face distorted in pleasure as your climax washed over you like a surging wave. A silent whine slipped out of your mouth as your chest pumped; heaving up and down. Sadie chuckles softly into your mouth, a bead of sweat dripping down her forehead. Your release coats her fingers before dripping on the jeans that gathered on the floor. “Fuck,” A mere whisper escaped your lips before a knock banged on the door.

Gasps and pants fill the gaps of silence as you wait for the person to speak.

“Hello? Are you done, miss?” A sweet but old voice calls out. You scramble to stand on your two legs, Sadie brings her cum-coated hand to her mouth and licks it clean, eyes glued on you. “Just a minute!” You say to the woman outside the door of the dressing room, trying to sound as calm and collected as possible. You put your pants on and fix your clothes and hair before opening the door, “Sorry for the wait, we just had a bit of trouble with trying the jeans on,”

“Oh, that explains the rustling,” You bit your lip at the comment before awkwardly chuckling and grabbing Sadie’s hand. “My girl here didn’t find anything that suited her yet, but we’ll come back though.” She says to the old woman, to which you nodded to.

Note to self: Have Sadie Adler fuck you in risky places more often.

a/n: oh my god, i am so sorry that this took me so long to upload. we just finished a lifetime's worth of projects and deadlines. anyway, this is my first smut fic ever so i encourage you all to tell me what to improve, i appreciate feedback !!! i hate this but like ermm might as well kms /lh

#sadie adler #sadie adler x reader #sadie adler smut #sadie adler x female reader #rdr 2 sadie #red dead redemption #red dead fanfic #red dead redemption 2

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kavyatraveler · 4 months

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Bloom Boutique Signature Towers

B1/B Near Signature Towers B Block, South City I, Sector 29, Gurugram, Haryana 122001, India, , Signature Towers, Gurugram

#hourly hotel #travel #bag2bag #hotel booking #Bloom Boutique Signature Towers

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bag2bag-shortstay-hotels · 2 years

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Bloom Boutique in Signature Towers Gurugram - Book with Bag2Bag and Pay by hour

Book Bloom Boutique in Signature Towers Gurugram by hour and save upto 80%. Book Short stays, Early check-in, Pay by hour, Couple friendly and Day use hotels in Signature Towers Gurugram.

#Bloom Boutique in Signature Towers

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twiwoncrackpopcorn · 6 months

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ツイステ Twisted Wonderland WORLD EVENT “Tapis Rouge at Pyroxene” BACKGROUNDS Shopping Locations

For the ones who asked, we are not at Vil’s house, not even his hometown.

The “Tapis Rouge” Event is set at the Fairest City, which seems inspired from Cannes / Monaco / Milano.

The Crystal Galleria in particular is a popular luxury shopping spot in Milan, and this is where Episode.2 and 3 of the Event Story happen.

Luxe Boutique is a couture/designer shop with a strong Italian flair, while the Felicity Cosmetics shop is quite reminiscent of Officina Profuma Santa Maria Novella (whose signature fragrance is about a Queen).

#ツイステ #twisted wonderland #twst event #twst lore #twst tapis rouge event

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

Note

Crewel taking care of a puppy found in the street and return it to the owner.

This interaction could have easily turned into a long fic (which I unfortunately don’t have the time for) so 😅 I’m afraid I had to cut it short! Luckily I was still able to sneak in some 101 Dalmatians and Cruella references.

If he doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will.

It happened on a rainy afternoon in the Foothill Town.

Umbrella open like a flower, Crewel made his way down the street. In his other hand was a fragrant bag full of high-quality tea leaves begging to be brewed into a nice warm cup.

Sheets of mist fell upon the rooftops, tracing shapes in a shimmering silver. It was chilly—not a concern for him, as he was outfitted in his signature fur coat. He was careful to take light steps to avoid splashing rainwater onto his well-tailored clothes.

A faint light cut through the gloom. It snagged on his periphery, drew his eyes toward it.

He came to a complete stop.

There, displayed in a boutique window, was a mannequin in a floral petticoat and a white ruffled skirt layered like a tiered cake. It was posed provocatively, legs propped up on a chair and body tilted back, hand on the hip. Scrawled on the glass pane was a shockingly scarlet message, as if scribbled by a drunken woman in her bright red lipstick: It should be fun!

“What a marvelous display,” Crewel mused. My compliments go to the designer.

The rain continued to fall like an icy shroud around him. The circle of golden light spilling from the lit interior of the boutique was his safe haven from the weather.

Surely it wouldn’t hurt to take a look—perhaps when I’m down browsing, the rain will have let up.

He headed for the door, swinging it open. His entry wad announced by the ringing of a bell, followed by soft scampering across the floorboards.

As Crewel made to close his umbrella, something quickly brushed by his pant leg.

He looked—and startled.

A Dalmatian pup had bolted in, its fur sopping wet from the outside. It skidded to a stop before him and aggressively shook itself off, sending a fine spray of water in all directions… and on Crewel’s tailored slacks. He blinked, but found himself crouching down to its level.

What do we have here, a lost pup?

The boutique owner cursed from behind the front counter. “Sir, please curb your dog!”

“It’s not my…” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to protest.

The Dalmatian, ever so fearless, gave a friendly bark. It nuzzled against his leg, staring up at him with large chocolatey eyes.

The puppy earned a low laugh from Crewel.

“Diving into doors when the opportunity arises, drying yourself off on me… Hmph, you’re a scrappy one. I can’t say I dislike that. Come here.”

Crewel carefully scooped up the shivering creature in his arms. With a curt nod and an apology to the shopkeeper, he retreated to a quiet corner of the boutique, shielding the puppy in his coat. It pawed against his vest and tracking mud onto the fabric. Crewel sighed—he’d have to get the entire suit dry-cleaned later.

“Let’s have a proper look at you,” he muttered, bringing the Dalmation out again.

It was a small thing, dotted like every other dog of its breed. Notably, a large black spot swallowed its left eye.

Up close, he could tell it was no stray. No, this dog was far too full-bodied and muscular to be getting by on only scraps. Its fur, too shiny and trimmed.

… That, and there was a telltale crimson band around its neck. A collar, a metal tag glinting in the store’s bright lights. Patch, it read, male. When Crewel grasped it and turned it over, the tag yielded an address and phone number.

“Ah, that must be your owner,” Crewel tutted. “How naughty of you to make your escape. Shall I bring you back there?”

Patch responded with a hapless grin and a slobbery kiss. He began to go in for a second lick, but the attempt ended in a loud sneeze.

The boutique owner casted them a dirty look.

Crewel rolled his eyes but provided a polite “We’ll be on our way.

He stepped outside, umbrella out again. Crewel regarded his canine companion fondly, ruffling its head.

“Come along, you little rascal. We can’t return you to your owner in this sorry state.

“My apartment here on Sage’s Island is small, but it can temporarily accommodate one puppy. I’ll run you a bath and clean you up before then. A hot meal is also in order—this weather is awful.”

Patch yipped enthusiastically at his newfound friend. Whether he understood what was happening or not was debatable, but he seemed happy either way.

“I’ll take that as I have your permission to proceed.” Crewel draped his coat over Patch, holding him close.

They would brave the storm together, man and man’s best friend.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Divus Crewel #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #It’s Raining Crows and Dogs #101 dalmatians #cruella

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corruptedcaps · 10 months

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Mallbrat

This story is based on this wonderful tweet by @shadow211e. Enjoy!

Despite Mel coming from a rich family, she had always seen herself as someone who was above the shallow, materialistic pursuits of the women who frequented the upscale mall in the neighboring town called Eden. She hated how bitchy and superficial the people were that frequented Eden, she was much more at home on the soccer field. Yet, today was different. She had come here with a pure intention: to find the perfect gift for her friend Katie.

Katie was a huge lover of fashion and followed all the latest trends but could barely afford the clothes she bought from the thrift store. Katie often told Mel that she was happy with her thrift store finds, that it made her more resourceful but Mel could see the sadness behind her best friend’s eyes.

Mel knew it would be hard, being a tomboy shopping for a dyed in the wool girly girl but she was determined to get her something perfect. It was just so overwhelming. The mall's glistening storefronts, adorned with designer labels, had always made her uncomfortable, but now she felt exhausted looking at a myriad of shoes, dresses and makeup, not knowing where to begin.

Taking a moment to sit down and gather her thoughts she watched as the bitchy girls of her school stride past flicking their hair and giggling at a joke she was sure she was the butt of.

As she was about to get up suddenly a perfume saleswoman appeared and sprayed something in her face. “Hello Miss, don’t you just love the smell of our new signature scent, ‘Entitled’. It’s such a hit that the mall will be pumping it through the air conditioning for today only. Make sure to buy your bottle before you leave today.” The saleswoman said to Mel who was coughing as she took the sweet fragrance in the face.

Before Mel could complain the woman had disappeared into thin air. Annoyed but undeterred from her task, Mel went back to walking the mall. As she strolled past boutique after boutique, something strange began to happen. Her posture straightened, and her steps became more deliberate, mimicking the confident strides of the women who were impeccably dressed around her. She pushed her chest out in front of her and walked with her chin high in a superior pose.

As she walked past store front after store front gazing at the opulent wears in the windows her mind started to drift from whether ‘Katie would like that’ to ‘I’d look good in that’. One outfit in particular caught her eye. It was a snakeskin style top that looked to have less fabric than her soccer shorts but she felt inexplicably drawn to it. She couldn’t stop picturing herself in its revealing curves.

She would have walked straight in to try it on only she got a look at herself in the windows reflection and nearly gagged. Her hair was messy, face dirty and her nails were chipped. She viewed her own reflection like the girls she saw earlier viewed her.

Mel sauntered into the upscale mall salon, her confidence preceding her. Locking eyes with a poised beautician, she snapped, "I need my hair cleaned and styled. My skin cleaned and moisturized, and my nails manicured. Make it quick." The beautician, catching the haughty undertone, nodded energetically and led her to an open chair.

As Mel settled into the plush seat, the beautician picked up the shampoo bottle labeled ‘Entitled’, the very same brand as the perfume that was spurted into Mel’s face earlier and worked diligently, washing away the remnants of soccer practice and transforming Mel's unruly hair into a sleek masterpiece. Meanwhile Mel found herself in a state of unexpected euphoria, a sensation induced by the intoxicating scent of the shampoo. The fragrance, like a veil of opulence, enveloped her senses, lulling her into a blissful reverie.

So enamoured with the aroma that Mel barely registered when the beautician put a facial mask on her as her hair dried. Her face tingled as she felt the dirt lift, bruises erase and her skin became smooth and imperfection less.

By the time her hair was dry Mel instinctively held out her hand, waiting for the beautician to start work on her nails. The beautician however was a pro and was manicuring Mel’s nails within seconds.

While the beautician worked, Mel’s internal dialogue shifted to a self-indulgent narrative. Thoughts of striving for success in soccer and excelling in academics seemed distant, replaced by a fixation on social standing and personal allure. "Who needs soccer? I'm destined for a life of extravagance," she thought, her mind now captivated by visions of high-society events and glamorous soirées.

As the beautician skillfully completed her work, Mel, now adorned in the aftermath of pampering, gazed for the first time at her reflection with a sense of vain satisfaction. The sleek hair, the impeccable facial, the manicured nails, and her impressive breasts painted a portrait of indulgence she couldn't help but revel in.

Maybe it was how straight her posture was now and how she stuck out her chest and held her chin high but Mel absolutely adored how big her tits now looked. They were practically spilling out of her top and she knew her cleavage would have heads turning.

“Good,” she thought to herself. “It’s about time I caught the eye of a man who can treat me to the finer things in life and is my monetary equal. I’ve wasted so much time with the boys at school. I need a man.”

The beautician, seemingly now intimidated by Mel, inquired cautiously, "Are you happy with the results miss?" Mel's eyes met her reflection once more, and with a dismissive wave, she retorted, "You didn't do much, darling. It's hard to improve upon perfection." The words hung in the air, leaving an awkward pause as the beautician grappled with the unexpected critique.

“But I suppose I better pay the ‘the help’. Here charge it to my black card.” Mel said coldly handing the beautician here matte steel credit card, the one her parents had given her but she had refused to use but now could think of nothing more satisfying than maxing it out.

“Thank you miss, we hope to see you again.” The beautician said as she quickly disappeared out of sight as Mel stared at her with disdain. Mel liked how it felt to have someone fear her. It made her pussy tingle.

Mel, fully immersed in the conceited realm she had embraced, stood up out of the chair and sauntered out of the salon. As she expected and enjoyed, all eyes were on her as she walked the mall floor.

She strode confidently into the store that held the outfit that had caught her eye earlier and snapped at the shop assistant to get it for her. The shop assistant quickly leapt to attention and got the outfit for Mel who rolled her eyes at the shop assistant for taking so long.

In the dressing room Mel joyously slipped into the tight outfit perfectly, her body contouring to fabric as if it was made for her. As she gazed lovingly at her reflection, a far cry from the girl that had entered the mall a few hours ago, something began to nag in her mind. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t her. She had come her for Katie not for herself.

And yet the longer she stared at her magnificent body the more she didn’t care. The once happy thoughts about friendship and empathy gave way to daydreams of a luxurious lifestyle, filled with adoration and admiration. "Katie can fend for herself. It’s time she learned that this world can be cruel… and so can I." Mel mused, her thoughts betraying a growing detachment from her former priorities.

Leaving the dressing room in the outfit she was about to pay for, she didn’t give a second thought to her old clothes laying on the floor until the shop assistant asked sheepishly what she should do with them.

“Burn them for all I care, they’re paupers rags as far as I’m concerned.” Mel said with cold detachment. She looked at the pile as a representation of her past life.

She spent the next few hours at the mall on a shopping spree. One outfit would not make up for years of neglect of her wardrobe. She needed clothes that reflected her station in life, one she had refused to embrace until now.

Along the way the same girls who had scoffed at her appearance earlier approached her cautiously but with new reverie. “You’re Mel right? You go to our school? We should hang out, girls like us need to stick together.” One of them had said.

Mel looked at them with a cold gaze, observing their demeanours. They were pretty and mean but Mel could see they feared her. She smirked knowing they’d be putty in her newly manicured hands. They would be perfect betas.

“If you must, but keep up I don’t have all day. Oh and it’s Mercedes.” She said with a turn on her expensive heels as she walked fast to make the girls try and keep up with her.

Before long the girls had filled her in on the most eligible men and the juiciest gossip. Their last leader had moved towns and they had a power vacuum that Mercedes was now only too happy to fill and they were only too happy to follow.

Mercedes was having such wicked fun that before she knew it the mall was closing. She had bought so much stuff that her new clique each held numerous bags for her as they followed her to the exit. Along the way Mercedes was sure to pick up several bottles of the perfume ‘Entitled’ as she left. She just loved its aroma.

Outside Katie stood waiting for Mel. Mel had told her at the beginning of the day that she had a surprise for Katie and to meet her at the mall. But now after waiting several hours Katie was beginning to worry.

Mercedes and her gang left the mall and made their way to the waiting limo Mercedes had ordered. Mercedes spotted Katie and with an evil smirk got close enough so her former friend could hear her say, “I really wish the mall would keep the riff raff further away from the property. They are ungodly eyesores.”

Katie went beet red at the cruel comment and quickly made herself scarce. She didn’t recognize this new girl that seemed to have her bully group ensnared but there was something so familiar about her.

The End

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #corrupted perfume #cc2023

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femininenachos · 6 months

Note

Hello lovely. I’ve been thinking about vacation au. Please tell me Clarke runs into Lexa swimming in some crystal clear Grecian water and wells has to close her mouth for her.

(Not quite, but close!)

Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

By mid-morning the narrow streets near the harbour are already swarming with island hoppers fresh off the ferry. More line the quayside, waiting to board the day cruise that takes in the larger, more populous archipelago further down the coast. So-called ‘jewels of the Aegean’, they’re feted for being playgrounds of the rich and famous, boasting a slew of luxury resort hotels, designer boutiques and staggeringly expensive seafront restaurants.

For all its charm and scenic vistas, at least Polis has one foot in the real world. Here, craggy-faced fishermen and dock hands in scruffy overalls are hard at work unloading the morning’s catch, doing their best to ignore the clusters of tourists floating around, or at least tolerating their presence with stoic indifference.

And—it’s possible Clarke might be biased—Polis has Lexa, currently leading the charge like a woman on a mission. Clarke sticks close, her hand in Lexa’s sure grip, hurrying to match her loping strides as they make a beeline for the marina. Along the way they pass an assortment of small motorboats in all shapes and sizes, from dinghies and jet skis to skiffs and cabin cruisers and everything in between, until a gleaming white single-masted sailboat comes into view at last.

Clarke stops dead in her tracks on the cobblestones, fingers slipping from Lexa’s.

Her jaw drops.

“Is this yours?”

Lexa glances over and laughs at Clarke’s expression. “I make good tips, but not that much.”

She points to the modest vessel moored next to it, an open-top vintage deck boat with a walnut veneer interior and burnt orange leather upholstery that’s bleached from exposure to the sun and the salty sea air. ‘Spirit of Polis’ is written in blue cursive script on the hull.

“I mean, this one’s great too,” Clarke is quick to respond. She styles it out. “Not so flashy. Compact. Classic. Nice, uh, sleek lines.”

Lexa peers over the top of her sunglasses, lips subtly twisting to the side. “It belongs to my uncle, so you don’t have to worry about offending me or the boat.”

She puts down the cooler containing their provisions of cold drinks and extends a hand to help Clarke aboard. A little unsteady on her feet at first, Clarke holds on tightly for support while she finds her balance, shifting her weight to counteract the bobbing motion of the boat as water sloshes against the sides. Once she’s confident she isn’t going to fall flat on her face or, worse, into the harbour, she takes a few cautious steps to reach the small seating area at the rear. She shrugs off her tote bag to stow under the bench and situates herself, the sun-scorched leather burning hot against the backs of her thighs.

From this safe perch (and prime ogling spot), she watches Lexa collect the thick rope that tethers the boat, tossing it onto the deck before she gracefully hops across with the cooler and gets behind the controls. Full of poise at the helm, like it’s second nature to assume command, the signature pout in place as Lexa lifts her chin like she’s surveying her nautical domain.

It goes without saying that the whole preppy, boat-captain vibe is one hundred percent working in her favour.

Shades on. Hair spilling down her back in glossy chestnut waves, the ends getting whipped around by the wind. Appealing in her pale pink button-down worn over a snug white tank. Shirt open and catching the light breeze, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a hint of muscle definition and the ink that encircles her bicep. Tight little navy blue shorts hug her hips and ass in ways that are about to cause a major international incident at sea, because Clarke is far from looking respectfully.

“Ready?”

When her eyes snap up, she spies the half-smile on Lexa’s side profile, as though she detects the unholy thirst emanating from mere feet away.

Clarke gives a slow, absentminded nod, the tip of her tongue poking out the side of her mouth as her eyes make another involuntary sweep down Lexa’s form.

“Clarke.”

She gets a hold of herself, breathing in deeply, and with it the spell is broken.

“Mm? Oh, yeah,” she says, feeling a resurgent wiggle of anticipation about this mystery adventure they’re about to embark on together. All Lexa was willing to divulge when they met is that it’s Polis’s best-kept secret, a spot known only to locals, unreachable except by boat, and so far unspoiled by tourists. Clarke had feigned offense on the last point, but soon dropped the act when Lexa tilted in for a kiss that went on and on and made her stomach clench. Each time Clarke started to retreat, Lexa would chase her mouth and draw her back in for more.

Her lips are still tingling.

(Both sets.)

“At least give me a hint about where we’re going?”

The enigmatic smirk that plays around Lexa’s mouth widens a fraction. “I thought you liked surprises.”

“Oh, I do. But I’m also stubborn as hell and won’t take no for an answer, so jot that down.”

It earns a laugh, one Clarke is fast becoming enamoured with, and she can’t control the warm tingle that goes through her when she hears it or the rush of elation she gets from bringing a rare grin to Lexa’s face.

“Good to know,” Lexa says as she reaches for the ignition key. Her next words are almost lost to the splutter and chug of the engine before it roars to life. “I like a challenge.”

~*~

Within an hour, they reach a small, secluded cove surrounded by sheer limestone cliffs, the ancient rock sculpted by wind and waves, where sparse scatterings of tall, rugged pines sprout precariously from narrow ledges in defiance of the elements.

It appears like a mirage, shimmering into view: a bay of dreamy, pristine, white-gold sands and crystal clear turquoise waters, serene and inviting, and there isn’t a soul in sight. The closest thing they had to company was the pod of dolphins they spotted off the starboard (Clarke learned) side about twenty minutes ago. She’d gasped and clutched Lexa’s arm, bouncing on her heels in sheer delight. But it was the look they shared, brimming with joy and something unaccountably softer and fonder, that made it all the more magical, the moment already locked into Clarke’s memory.

“What do you think?” Lexa asks.

Lost for words, Clarke shakes her head in silent awe.

She turns to Lexa, and the smile Lexa directs at her, eyes bright and glowing in the sunlight, leaves her just as speechless. When Clarke finds her voice at last, it comes out thick, clogged with emotion; touched and amazed by the incredible beauty of what she sees—the place, and the woman who brought her here. So moved that she’s dangerously close to shedding a tear, her vision glazing over.

She blinks the moisture away.

“It’s…” She draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. Lifts her eyebrows. “Wow.”

She doesn’t second guess the impulse to wrap an arm around Lexa’s waist, to plant a soft, grateful kiss on her jaw.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.”

Full lips twitch at the corners. “My pleasure.”

With one hand resting on the wheel, Lexa drapes her free arm around Clarke’s shoulders. They remain like that, Clarke hugging Lexa’s side and taking in the spectacular scenery as Lexa guides the boat in at a steady rate of knots.

“I can’t believe this place has stayed under the radar. You’d think tour operators would be running excursions out here every hour until sunset.”

“Clarke.” Lexa grows serious all of a sudden, and that only makes Clarke want to kiss her again. Coax another smile. “You must promise not to tell anyone. It’s how we preserve it for future generations.”

Clarke schools her features, pretending to match Lexa’s gravity.

“Well… it’ll cost you. My silence doesn’t come cheap.”

The slight frown Lexa wears smooths out as soon as she catches on. A quizzical eyebrow flexes in a way that’s rudely attractive.

“Name your price, but don’t forget I work in hospitality.”

“I’m not interested in your money, Lexa. What I want” - Clarke trails her hand over Lexa’s hip and the perfect curve of her backside to give it a slow, purposeful squeeze, relishing Lexa’s intake of breath and the darkening of her gaze as she glances at Clarke’s lips - “is you.”

She meant to say “your body” but she doesn’t correct the verbal slip. Because, yeah, she does want to bend Lexa into all kinds of shapes like a pretzel, but she also has a deep desire to learn more about Lexa as a person, to find out what makes her tick, beyond what she likes to do in bed.

Lexa takes it in stride regardless, easing back into the confidence she has in spades.

Something about the slope of her smile signals she’s about to gain the upper hand.

She shrugs.

“Okay, deal.”

The enduring gleam in Lexa’s eyes before she turns her attention back to the sea gives Clarke palpitations. Her pulse thunders in her ears, drowning out the engine noise and the crash of the boat breaking the waves.

~*~

They drop anchor a short distance from the shore, an easy swim from the dazzling white sands. Not yet ready to take a dip, preferring to bake in the heat for a while first, Clarke spreads a large beach towel on the deck for sunbathing. She senses Lexa’s attention on her as she shimmies out of her shorts and shucks her loose tee to reveal the red halter neck two-piece that Octavia helped pick out after breakfast.

(“Hellooo, mama,” Octavia had drawled after Clarke emerged from the en suite and gave a reluctant twirl. She’d let out a low whistle as she ran her eyes up and down. “Almost wish I was tagging along just to watch Sexy Lexy’s head spin 360-degrees before it explodes. The twins ain’t playing.”)

At the time, Clarke had rolled her eyes and fought a blush but she’s glad she went with O’s suggestion.

Aware of her present captive audience, she proceeds to get comfortable on her back. One knee bent, an arm tucked behind her head as a pillow, showing off her best assets like a 1950s calendar pinup girl. Even behind the dark tinted lenses of her sunglasses, she sees Lexa’s eyes hungrily trace the shape of her body. Clarke basks in it, a smile tucked into the corner of her mouth, secure in the knowledge that she’s not just a snack, she’s the whole damn meal, and Lexa looks like she wants to devour every last crumb.

But Clarke’s smugness is short-lived, because in the next moment she’s the one left gawking when Lexa wordlessly strips down to the skimpiest pair of bikini bottoms and not a stitch else, brow quirking up as she peers over her shoulder then dives off the deck, slicing through the water with barely a splash.

Clarke quickly levers up onto her elbows to watch Lexa surface seconds later, hair slicked back and plastered to her skull, a sly little tilt to her lips as she treads water.

“Come on in. The temperature is perfect,” she calls out, looking every inch the siren that lures thirsty sapphic sailors to their deaths.

Clarke tries to cling on to the last vestiges of composure she has remaining.

“Gonna work on my tan for a little bit.”

The pout returns and she laughs, “Soon!”

Grabbing the tube of sunscreen from her nearby tote, she squeezes a large dollop into her palm. While Lexa does slow laps around the boat, Clarke liberally reapplies the lotion, slathering it on until all the exposed skin within reach is covered.

Before long, she hears Lexa climb the ladder onto the swim platform, accompanied by the rush of water cascading off her body as she rises out of the sea.

The soft slap of wet footfalls draws nearer.

“Lex?” Clarke twists around. “Could you do my—”

She stalls mid-sentence, only cognizant of her fingers closing hard around the tube in her hand when a spurt of lotion shoots out, splattering across her thigh and the towel.

She doesn’t even flinch.

All Clarke can do is gape and stare, watching rivulets of water run down the slope of Lexa’s bare chest. Eyes drawn inexorably to taut nipples and golden skin that glistens under the sun, to the long, lean lines of Lexa and the scrap of luminous orange fabric that sits low on her hips.

Clarke’s belly tightens, arousal flaring hot between her legs.

(A voice in her head that sounds disturbingly like Wells tells her to close her mouth.)

She has to remind herself to breathe.

Is thankful for the oversized shades that partially mask her expression, because she isn’t in control of what her face is doing right now. But if Lexa’s lip-bitten smile is any indication, it’s a lost cause anyway.

Casually wringing the water out of her hair as she approaches, Lexa glances at the milky white streak on Clarke’s inner thigh.

“Not the first time I’ve made a girl squirt.”

Clarke mutters a sarcastic “ha ha”, rubs the lotion into her skin, then wipes her hands on the edge of the towel before she reclines again. She fakes nonchalance when Lexa sinks down beside her, but it’s impossible to ignore the butterflies.

She rolls her shoulders and stares at the sky above, fixating on the solitary vapour trail that cuts across the endless blue.

“Speaking of previous liaisons... do you bring all your conquests here?” She’s mostly kidding, but there’s an undercurrent of needing to know too. She peers at Lexa. “Or am I one of the lucky few?”

A slow shake of Lexa’s head before she leans over on her elbow, closing in and partially blocking the sun, and Clarke’s skepticism must be plain to see, because Lexa looks so intensely sincere now, no trace of a smile or any disingenuousness when she says: “It’s the truth, I swear.”

Still, Clarke has her doubts. There’s no way Lexa isn’t tripping over hot women throwing themselves at her feet and this boat trip is too well-orchestrated not to be a tried and tested seduction technique.

Clarke peels off her shades to look Lexa square in the eye, and that frank, steady gaze pierces straight through her.

“I mean it, Clarke.”

The space between them shrinks.

Lexa’s pupils dilate as her focus shifts to parted lips. “You’re special.”

Water drips off the ends of Lexa’s hair onto Clarke’s shoulder and chest, and whatever rebuttal she had dies in her throat. She’s the one to reach out, gripping Lexa by the neck to tug her the rest of the way and kiss her like Clarke’s been dreaming of all morning.

As soon as Lexa throws a long leg over Clarke to straddle her, knees bracketing her hips, she needs no further convincing.

It’s on.

She dips her tongue inside Lexa’s mouth and slides both hands up Lexa’s rib cage to cup her breasts, a shiver running through Clarke when she feels the hard poke of nipples against her palms. She kneads, and the low, throaty noise it earns her sets her nerves alight, warm tingles suffusing her body.

They kiss deeply, greedily.

They kiss until Clarke has to drag her mouth away to gulp down some air, only to have the oxygen punched out of her lungs once again when Lexa uses the opportunity to shove her bikini bottoms off, scoop her mane of wet hair to one side and resettle against Clarke’s thigh. With her hands planted on either side of Clarke’s shoulders, Lexa holds herself up as she starts to work along the tensed muscle.

The slick, molten feel of Lexa, sliding against her skin, riding Clarke, makes her burn. She lurches up into the next kiss, hungrily reclaiming Lexa’s mouth, urging her on with a grip on her ass, and that shaky little hitch of breath in the back of Lexa’s throat whenever the friction gets her just right succeeds in getting Clarke wetter and wetter too. At this rate, she might come before Lexa does, and the odds only increase when Lexa takes Clarke’s hand and guides it between her legs.

“Use your fingers.”

Another surge of heat floods through Clarke at the instruction, hearing the normally smooth, modulated tone of Lexa’s voice roughed by need.

Clarke studies Lexa’s face, watching for the tiny flickers of reaction as she runs her fingers lower, fascinated by each and every twitch and jolt and slight gasp as she explores. She dips in and drags the wetness up to swirl around Lexa’s clit and is rewarded by the sharp jerk of Lexa’s hips and quite possibly the dirtiest kiss of Clarke’s entire life. She needs no prompting to slide through slick heat to tease at Lexa’s entrance again, fingertips doing a couple of slow swirls before she pauses.

For a beat they remain suspended in a freeze frame of anticipation. Each holding still, a breath caught in their throats.

On the exhale Clarke pushes inside.

And fuck, she missed this. Touching yourself is great and all, empowering, fantastic for stress relief, et cetera. But nothing beats the sound another woman makes when you enter her for the first time, when you hear that shaky intake of breath and you feel her clench around your fingers.

“Good?” Clarke asks.

Lexa nods, bottom lip held between her teeth as she looks down at Clarke with hooded eyes, the green of her irises nearly eclipsed by black.

Part of Clarke can’t quite believe this is her reality. That she’s buried to the knuckles and Lexa is moving on her, rolling to meet the steady pump of her wrist.

She glances between their bodies and a groan escapes, another sharp twist of lust coiling in the pit of her stomach once her eyes fasten on her own two fingers coated with Lexa’s arousal, fucking into her. But Clarke pries her eyes away, roving over tight abdominals, taking in the curves of Lexa’s tits and the jut of her nipples, torn between wanting them in her mouth and watching her fingers disappear inside again.

It’s Lexa’s half-stifled whimper when Clarke’s thumb finds her clit that sharpens her focus.

Winding her arm around Lexa’s lower back, Clarke sits them upright and swiftly brings their lips together. The abrupt change of angle has Lexa gasping hotly into her mouth. Again, louder, when Clarke’s palm rubs in. Lexa grips her by the shoulder and the back of her neck, blunt nails digging in as Lexa grinds down harder, faster, speeding towards the climax—the first of many, if Clarke has her way—sucking in short, sharp gasps while Clarke keeps pace, despite it being hell on her wrist.

They’re hardly kissing at all now, mouths hanging slack and sharing the same air, noses pressing into cheeks as they pant against one another’s lips.

She soon feels the first flutters, the growing tension in Lexa’s form, the choppy motion of Lexa’s hips and the careless scratch of her nails at Clarke’s nape. She curls the tips of her fingers on each partial drag out then slams back in, lifting Lexa an inch off her lap with each thrust. Clarke keeps the heel of her palm tight against Lexa’s clit, the pressure firm and constant, and in the next collection of halting, rapid breaths, Lexa’s whole frame pulls taut. A ragged cry is torn from her throat and she clenches hard, coming in a hot spill around Clarke’s fingers. Lexa shudders through it, a tremble in her jaw when she catches Clarke’s mouth in a fierce, bruising kiss, licking into her with a groan that makes Clarke gush in turn.

They remain in a heavy lip lock long after the tremors subside, neither inclined to separate. Restless hands weave through Clarke’s hair then seek out her curves, roaming down her chest with purpose, pushing under the top half of her swimsuit. She gives a low hum of approval when Lexa’s thumbs roll over the tight tips of her nipples, the ache mirrored in the dull, pulsing emptiness between her legs.

She feels close to orgasm already, like if she got even the tiniest bit of friction she’d go off like a rocket. Just a small shift of her hand to grind against her own knuckles would do it. But the way Lexa is touching her breasts, palms running all over, teasing her nipples into stiff, hypersensitive points, might be enough to get Clarke there.

And all the while, she’s still inside Lexa. Fucking her lazily with slow presses of her fingers, incapable of much more vigour when her wrist is screaming. She’s debating what to do next, whether to withdraw and flip Lexa onto her back for round two or continue like this, when a distant droning noise intrudes, faintly audible above the gentle lap of water, the thick, wet squelch of Clarke’s hand working between Lexa’s thighs, and their combined heavy breathing.

Growing more distracted by the second, Clarke draws her mouth away. She squints at the horizon beneath the shade of her free hand while warm lips meander along her jaw and down her neck.

She ceases her movements, despite Lexa’s meaningful buck of her hips and the subsequent small growl of complaint when Clarke fails to take the hint.

“What’s—” Teeth nip at the fading hickey on her throat and she gasps, hand flying to tangle in Lexa’s damp, curling hair. But as the object begins to resolve itself, Clarke tenses for a different reason. “Is that a boat?”

Lexa abandons her sulk to look too.

A white shape is rapidly approaching, throwing up sea spray, sunlight glinting off the surface and the waves and making it difficult to discern from this distance until… oh. Oh, yeah.

Letting out a string of (presumably) expletives in her native tongue, Lexa scrambles off Clarke to scoop up the clothes strewn across the deck. She pulls on her tank top, yanks the shorts up her legs, and has just enough time to arrange herself into a casual pose beside Clarke before the other boat reaches them. The occupants are obnoxiously young; late teens or early twenties, as far as Clarke can tell from a distance; a bunch of bikini-clad girls and lanky guys in board shorts hanging off one another as music blasts.

She sighs inwardly. Grits her teeth and refrains from giving them the middle finger while they whoop and cheer in passing, beer bottles held aloft as they thunder towards the wooden jetty.

So much for the sexy beach idyll. Clearly, not everyone has such reverence for the tranquility of this spot.

“Shall we stay a while or…?” Clarke hedges.

Lexa purses her lips and casts her stormy gaze around, jaw working side to side in rotation, but a gentle touch on her leg pulls her focus back to Clarke.

Consternation softens into regret.

“You didn’t even get a chance to swim or feel the sand between your toes.”

“I’ll cope. Besides…” Clarke wets her lips and drops into a huskier register. “It wasn’t a total bust.”

Lexa’s mouth twitches, clearly fighting a smile, and to Clarke that’s a win.

“Come on, don’t let these pesky teens ruin our hot date,” she continues in a playful tone. “I bet you have a few aces up your sleeve; other favourite haunts to wow the ladies with.”

One shoulder lifts in a slight shrug. “We do have the boat for the rest of the day. I could take you somewhere else. For lunch, if you’re hungry yet?”

Clarke gives a noncommittal hum, lightly trailing her wet fingers along the soft skin of Lexa’s inner thigh. “I could eat.”

The suggestive undertone isn’t lost in translation. Their eyes meet and Clarke dares to make it explicit.

“But lunch wasn’t what I had in mind… unless we’re counting pussy as a food group.”

Lexa loses the battle against keeping her smile under control. The tips of her ears are tinged pink. “Are Americans always so forward?”

“Um, I don’t recall any shyness on your part two nights ago.”

Dainty little ears burn brightly while Lexa’s smile grows, becoming toothier, and Clarke just wants to smooch that perfect face all day long.

“Anyway, I prefer the term ‘go-getter.’ As in, I see someone I want and I go get her.”

A pained groan. “I should leave you stranded on the beach for that.”

“Hey!” Clarke swats at Lexa’s knee in retaliation, but Lexa catches her hand, holding it captive. Clarke sniffs for dramatic effect. “I was going to let you strip me out of this bathing suit later, but now I’m strongly reconsidering.”

“If it helps sway your decision, I’d definitely appreciate seeing you naked again.”

“And how would you show your gratitude?”

“Mm. At least three times, and maybe twice more with the strap if you’re into toys.”

God.

“Okay. Alright. Well, lucky for you, I’m kind of dying for you to fuck me so I guess that clinches it.”

It’s about as far from playing it cool as could be, but Clarke doesn’t care. The truth is she’s soaked, aching for relief, and she isn’t picky about whichever method Lexa might use to get her off, as long as it happens soon.

Eyes flashing dark, Lexa cups a hand behind Clarke’s neck and pulls her mouth to hers. Clarke reacts without thought, already opening up to accept the slide of Lexa’s tongue before her brain catches up and she remembers they’re not alone.

Cracking an eye open, she’s relieved to see nobody on the other boat appears to be paying them any attention. She attempts to evade the next kiss, only for Lexa to pursue it more doggedly, and that makes Clarke smile even as she lays a palm on Lexa’s chest to gently hold off her advance. The mini pout on Lexa’s face when they pull apart is a treat, and Clarke can’t conceal her enjoyment of it. Unable to resist the lure, she steals one final peck.

For a few indulgent seconds, she luxuriates in the softness of Lexa’s full bottom lip, until it dawns on her that an hour-long return journey stands between them and more orgasms, and she sighs.

“Why isn’t teleportation a real thing yet? Having to wait a full 60 minutes to get you under me is so unfair.”

Slowly, with the greatest delicacy and patience, Lexa brushes their noses together, one side then the other, nudging the tip before she withdraws. Despite the sun beating down on her back, it gives Clarke chills, shivers running down her neck and arms. For the duration she just holds still and melts while her stomach flips, and the butterflies that had lain dormant return in full force.

When she opens her eyes, she’s greeted by the slight, sloping smile on Lexa’s lips and her stomach does another somersault.

“I’m starting to think you’re only interested in me for sex,” Lexa says lightly.

Clarke lets out a small scoff. “You’re the one with a one-track mind. I was minding my own business, soaking up the rays, until you pounced.”

“Can you blame me?”

Lexa’s heated stare roves over several inches of cleavage before she forcibly drags her eyes back up.

“Actually… I have a confession to make.” She draws that plush bottom lip, still slightly swollen and red from kissing, between her teeth. “I dropped a tray of drinks at work yesterday because I had a flashback to you sitting on my face. Anya yelled at me and I didn’t even give a fuck that she deducted it from my tips.”

Heat rises in Clarke’s cheeks, triggered by her own vivid recollection of events. She won’t forget it in a hurry and she’s flattered to hear it was just as memorable for Lexa too. But also, it feels like a point of pride that she made Lexa’s cool girl veneer slip, even if she wasn’t there to witness it in person.

“Now I feel partly responsible for this tragic loss of earnings and broken glassware.”

“I said you were trouble.”

They inch closer, eyes glued to lips, their breath hot on one another’s faces.

“How can I make it up to you?” Clarke asks.

“I have some ideas.”

Her mind can’t help going to the aforementioned strap.

All smiles, they surrender to the magnetic pull. The world around them recedes. There’s only Lexa’s mouth on hers, soft yet urgent, and the tingles that erupt all over, Clarke’s pulse accelerating when long fingers thread into her hair again.

And it’s sublime.

Close to perfection.

She can almost hear the swell of imaginary violins soundtracking the moment—until a smattering of shrill wolf whistles pierces through the bliss.

The kiss breaks on a huff of shared, quiet laughter. Clarke’s eyes slide across to the jetty, where they’re being enthusiastically toasted by their neighbours. She groans and drops her forehead to Lexa’s shoulder, breathing in the saltwater, sun-warmed scent of her before showing her face again.

“I believe that’s our cue to leave,” Clarke says.

The long, lidded look Lexa favours her with, eyes shaded darker by desire and the hint of some deeper emotion that feels altogether too big, too soon to acknowledge, has Clarke battling the urge to launch herself at Lexa’s lips again, regardless of the unwanted spectators nearby.

“Keep that up, Lex, and they might really have something to holler about—and possibly livestream on the internet.”

A faint smile reappears. “What am I doing, Clarke?”

“Looking. Giving me those” - she gestures vaguely - “eyes.”

It loosens a small laugh. Lexa lowers her gaze and Clarke regrets mentioning it now, because it feels like the sun momentarily disappearing behind the clouds when Lexa’s thrilling, singular focus isn’t on her.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Lexa looks up, and the restored eye contact makes Clarke’s blood pump faster.

She lets out the breath she was holding. “Maybe I like it more than I should, considering.”

“Considering…?”

“I won’t be here next week.”

Pragmatic; matter-of-fact. A reality check and a casual reminder they both need to hear before they throw themselves headlong into… whatever this thing is between them: it has an expiration date.

In the lull, Lexa scans every millimetre of Clarke’s face and she hopes the nerves don’t show through the front she’s putting on.

After a moment, the corner of Lexa’s mouth lifts into a smirk, but it seems slightly forced. Her eyes are more pebbly, neutral grey than green. “Then let’s make sure you have good memories to take home with you.”

#vacation au #cool for the summer #clexa fic #my fic

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movedto-ph7soy · 2 years

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🍓 style analysis: nana komatsu / hachi (NANA)

❗❗EDIT 10/9/24: i've moved to @ph7soy, where i'll be posting all my original content from now on ᨐฅ

welcome to the first entry in my style analysis series- where i take a different fictional character for each entry and take a look at their fashion sense, as an exploration on how fashion plays a role in forming a character's personality & overall identity. in other words, it's a deep dive into the intersection of story & style. today we're starting off with nana komatsu (who we'll be affectionately referring to as hachi from here on out) from NANA, my favourite character from my favourite manga of all time.

NANA is a manga very near and dear to my heart. i could spend all day talking about why, but i'd say one of the biggest reasons is for how ai yazawa (the creator of NANA) uses fashion as a means of storytelling. in NANA, clothes are not just a typical character design element, but are instead a visual narrative tool used to convey a characters' personality, as well as to express their traits and feelings. today i've chosen hachi for the style analysis because i'm fascinated by the subtle changes to her style syncing with her character development over the course of the story. also, i think her style is just super cute. so let's get into it! (⚠ anime & manga spoilers ahead)

🍓

overview

if i only had one word to describe hachi's style, i'd say feminine- think frills and lace details. she's all about babydoll silhouettes, pleated skirts, knit cardigans, ballet flats, and generally embodying shoujo fashion from the early 2000s with a good balance of cute and classy. hachi's fashion sensibilities lean more towards the modest side, as her dresses and skirts are usually around midi-length, and mini skirts are often paired with extra layers like tights or leggings underneath. it's a very good girl chic look, which fittingly leans in to her innocent personality. hachi is very stylish and clearly puts a lot of thought into picking her outfits everyday, as she's not afraid to occasionally experiment with different styles every & to use fashion as a key means of expressing herself.

in terms of colour palettes, hachi's wardrobe has a bit of everything- warm hues, earth tones, soft pastels, which all work together to capture the warmth and sweetness of her character. she's definitely more attuned to light colours than dark. this suits her personality better too, as light coloured clothing is said to convey feelings of friendship, fun, compassion, and approachability. fabric-wise, hachi likes to keep it light and airy with materials like chiffon and tulle; switching to warmer fabrics like cashmere and wool for cold weather, giving her outfits a vintage feel.

we can see that hachi pulls fashion inspiration from various aesthetics and fashion trends across different decades. she definitely incorporates her love for vintage fashion in her style, particularly with elements we've seen her wear before like mod dresses, neckerchiefs, pearl necklaces, long fleece trim coats, and brown platform boots. you can also see it in how some of the pieces she wears feels so unique, like a surprise gem you would find in a vintage boutique while thrifting. in dressier looks, hachi's girlish charm and allure is slightly reminiscient of 1960s it girls, like twiggy and sharon tate. she draws from a lot of 60s-inspired elements- the romantic parisienne style, and a bit of vintage preppy chic.

scarves and bandanas are a vintage essential as well as one of hachi's signature accessories. they have tons of versatile styling options, plus the potential to be dressed up or down. we've seen her wearing one scarf (exhibit A) multiple times over the series. the babushka scarf version has to be my favourite, it's very hepburn-esque, who i 100% i could picture hachi having a poster of in her childhood bedroom. i also think that having characters re-wear pieces we've seen before is generally just a cool subtle styling detail, which adds to the realism of NANA's 10/10 worldbuilding. the scarf's many appearances styled in different ways also goes to show how hachi enjoys being creative with her outfits, loves the pieces she owns and wants to get as much use out of them as possible.

hachi's style also incorporates a touch of influence from the kawaii lolita subculture, particularly modern offshoots like larme-kei. lolita is french rococco-inspired with a focus on cuteness, and has its origins in early 2000s harajuku street style- which is also where mori/kogyaru fashion originates from; hachi's go-to style during her high school years (see: her modified school uniform, miniskirts, fuzzy legwarmers). both of these movements were heavily pioneered by j-fashion magazines of the time like FRUITS, Olive, Larme & CUTiE, which were mainly popular with teenage girls and young women, and hachi is no exception. her fashion sense is also heavily inspired by famous japanese celebrities and style icons like risa nakamura.

if we had to really narrow it down, i think hachi's style can be best described by otome (lit: maiden) fashion. known as one of the predecessors of lolita fashion, this style was very popular among young girls in the 70s-80s and is heavily centered around embodying all things traditionally feminine. sweet, cute, girly, and romantic are all common descriptors of the style, which pulls influence from 60s mod fashion (which, as we've seen, has prevalent elements in hachi's style). think tons of layering, pattern mixing, longer hemlines, and mary janes/flats, all of which we frequently see in hachi's outfits. we also see that she takes elements from modern lolita fashion like frills, bows, ribbons, lace, tights & stockings, and incorporates them into her own personal style as more understated outfit details; making it more wearable on a daily basis while still being a tribute to one of her sources of style inspiration.

now that we've explored what makes hachi's personal style unique to her character, let's dig into how her style is influenced in relation to how the story progresses and how her character develops. and just for funsies, i'll also be styling a casual everyday outfit that i could picture hachi wearing for each story arc. let's go!

🍓

i. art school

i'd describe hachi's style here as the most youthful, which makes sense considering she's freshly moved to tokyo to study at an art school. we see her sporting a face-framing pixie cut, which gives her look a bit of edge, but not too much as she still retains her signature soft girl style to balance it out. also, can i just say: super farmer's daughter vibes when paired with a bandana! jeans were having a moment too- during this era, hachi was often seen wearing a pair of bellbottom flares or baggy jeans, creating a casual and easygoing look which really leaned into the artsy college student fashion. this would also mesh well with her then-best friend junko's more bohemian/indie, woodstock-inspired hippie style. the short hair paired with her experimentation on androgynous silhouettes definitely accentuates her gamine facial features, lending to a cute boyish look.

all these style elements are in direct contrast with the hyperfeminine looks of her high school years, back when she'd opt for skirts over jeans and long, styled hair; showing how hachi underwent a pretty drastic style change whilst adapting to the new environment in tokyo. at the same time, it could also hint at hachi's approach to self-expression & using fashion as a coping mechanism to deal with major life changes. dressing more casually to blend in with the college crowd is one of many indicators on how easily influenced hachi can get, which is pretty on-brand behaviour for someone with a tendency to seek validation from others instead of oneself.

so let's get into the first look i've picked out for her: layers on layers on layers baby! for this outfit, i took a lot of inspiration from hachi's first day of class outfit. i tried to be consistent with her theme of 70s-inspired prints and silhouettes during this phase, but also wanted to incorporate a modern y2k touch since we know that younger hachi (before fully developing her unique & personal sense of style) is more of a trend chaser, and what could be more early 2000s than a blouse + dress + jeans combo? accessories-wise, i wanted to pick out unique-looking pieces that had a lot of charm, as i was really going for that 'flea market finds' vibe since she obviously wouldn't have been able to afford any designer yet on a college student budget. also please notice the gorgeous vintage floral print ballet flats- i was so excited when i found it, i thought it screamed hachi!! they look so comfortable to walk in on top of being cute, it's the perfect shoe to slip on for a long day of classes without sacrificing style.

🍓

ii. apartment 707

during this time, we see hachi start to embrace feminine styles again. she lets her hair grow out and we see her back in skirts, dresses, and all things girly, which is why her otome fashion influences shine through most here. she wears tons of pieces in floral and polkadot print, as well as flowy babydoll tops which are very y2k-girl-next-door-reminiscient. we also see her starting to wear vivienne jewelry (the pearl choker, the dainty silver orb earrings), likely as a result of nana's influence (who she heavily admires and looks up to) & wanting to emulate her style. hachi's outfits here seem to have more colour and print, which i believe is reflective of her mental state here; happy, confident, and surrounded by support. good vibes all around, her environment at this time encourages her to take more risks in not just decision-making but also in her fashion choices.

in general, this era is where hachi seems to be getting a better hold on growing into her own personal style. she's still open to trying out different styles every now and then, but we can see there are some style elements that really stick and appear most often in her outfits. she's also seen here experimenting with all kinds of different hairstyles- french braids, pigtails, twin buns, the half-updo. to me, i think all of this signifies how hachi's style development runs parallel to her identity formation and how she grows as a person. at this point of the story, hachi believes she's finally found a place where she fits- within this ragtag but loving cast of unique characters.

so the second look was a little more of a challenge to work with- that's because hachi's style during this era doesn't subscribe to any one specific aesthetic or subculture, but more like a bit of everything, and her outfits can differ a lot between episodes. the goal here was to go for a casual daytime outfit, and i ended up super proud of the colour coordination in this one! i've styled hachi in a frilly vintage floral print chiffon slip dress that's almost reminiscent of the strawberry dress of 2020, but with unique details that give it much more character. i gave hachi a cream-toned vivienne crossbody purse, a scarf to balance out the salmon pink of the dress accents, styled as a neckerchief, some strawberry hair clips to match, and of course i had to include her much-spotted pearl orb necklace too. the highlight of this look are definitely the shoes, which are maison margiela tabi ballet flats- something i could 100% picture hachi wearing if NANA were set in the context of modern day fashion trends.

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iii. motherhood

as time passes, we also see how hachi's fashion sense has slightly evolved into a classier, more refined version. more adult, if you will. this occurs when hachi decides to move out from apartment 707 and starts getting serious with takumi. not only did her living situation change, but as did her lifestyle, and with that, her fashion sense too. her style here simplified and took on a more mature look. she started prioritizing function over form as she cut down on layering and accessorizing. she would also opt for longer, flowier silhouettes and comfortable styles, often wearing simple dresses or aprons over a basic shirt-skirt combo. i really like how the change in style here - which pulls a lot from the 50s-suburbia housewife trope (think frilly aprons, puffy dresses, flared skirts, modest hemlines) - feels like a sublte detail to show how hachi settles into her new role of motherhood, expressed via clothing choices.

as a whole, this period of her life signifies the drastic 180° change from spending carefree days of young adulthood, to taking on the role of mother/wife in a nuclear family unit. it's the most major life change she's ever had to experience at this point, and it's expected that her style evolves alongside this. she's seen wearing noticeably less patterns or colour during this time, which could hint at possibly representing her inner feelings- the bleakness of spending her days in a mostly-empty home, and the isolation of being separated from the friendships she once surrounded herself with daily. thankfully, we do eventually see her return to dressing fashionably again after the timeskip. however, it's extremely important not to gloss over this period of her life as it portrays how she must have felt having most of her agency taken away overnight, with her style being all she had left as a form of control.

so last but not least is the final outfit, which was tough styling as there was comparably less material to go off, but i based it on the few going-out looks we get to see hachi wear post-takumi. rolling with the 50s-inspired looks, i've styled her in a coral short-sleeve button down dress. for the outerwear i picked a long checkered overcoat, which nicely complements the dress in addition to being a going-out staple for classy ladies everywhere. since the outfit is mostly harsher silhouettes, i decided to keep the colour scheme light to balance it out. while i was going for 'stylish mature woman', i still wanted some youthful elements in there to maintain hachi's signature girlish look. i balanced it out by accessorizing with a headband (a prep chic essential) and dior saddle bag, both lime green for a pop of colour and contrast. and of course, i had to incorporate the iconic neckerchief too as it doesn't get any more vintage-looking than this. the final piece to tie it all together are a pair of classic miu miu ballet flats- chic and comfortable!

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final thoughts

all in all, hachi's fashion sense is super girly and sweet, which i'd say directly reflects on her character's personality. hachi is an outgoing girl who wears her heart on her sleeve and has a lot of love to give. she's warm and approachable, which she expresses through her clothing choices by embodying the cheerful, down-to-earth girl next door look. her bubbly style is youthful and fresh, which personality-wise is in character with hachi's innocence and willingness to trust others. this is shown through how much hachi cares deeply about her loved ones & often (unhealthily) prioritizes their feelings over her own. however, this naïveté unfortunately leaves her a lot more vulnerable to others seeking to exploit her emotional attention.

hachi's fashion evolution over the series shows how she uses fashion as a coping tool to help adjust to life changes, capturing her emotional growth and how she matures over the course of the story. the way that hachi's sense of style develops alongside her character is so realistic. her style development tells the story of a girl who finds herself and loses herself over and over again, frequently changing jobs and wardrobes in a constant struggle to find an identity to latch onto- until she does. hachi's style story is one of self-expression & identity formation; a story that speaks to all the young, unsure girls out there who see a bit of themselves in her, trying to figure out their place in a world in a world that often decides for them.

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