~I Just Want To Put My Commissions Up First Before I Start Posting~
Smut okay if that's what you really want aha but don't ask for anything too weird.
I will most likely post the finished product on AO3 (Preppycat) and maybe even Tumblr to share with everyone but if you don't want that, just tell me it's all cool :)
I write for most things but I personally think I do well with Life Is Strange, Danganronpa, Killing Eve, etc. If it's something I don't know about, I'm willing to research it.
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My piece for the @danceofdespairzine ! Pre-Order a physical version: https://t.co/7ukQC0bGBY Read the digital version for free: https://t.co/FEWgq5JTk0
Here’s my piece! :
(Or read it on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39369255 )
Ikusaba Mukuro is not particularly smart. Or perhaps at least when it comes to planning something exceptionally creative such as a promposal.
Promposal. What a funny, stupid word! A promposal, by definition, is some huge, creative gesture to the one you wish to go to prom with-whether it is a romantic partner, a friend, or even an acquaintance, asking them to attend by your side. There is probably no one who remembers the first promposal in history, but it can be assumed the receiver was quite surprised yet delighted. Whoever that person was must have been someone very special.
And in Ikusaba’s eyes, there is no one more special than Maizono Sayaka. Thus there’s no one else she’d rather go to Prom with than her.
Their relationship is. . .Ikusaba can’t exactly put a name on it. They’re more than friends. They don’t have an established relationship. Maybe a kickass promposal is just the way to complete the latter.
But again, Ikusaba doesn’t have a creative bone in her body, so that’s very much going to be a problem regarding her promposal.
Maizono Sayaka has never had the best academic prowess, but when it comes to more creative matters such as song-writing and creating elaborate performances, she excels. But since she’s decided that her next big project is to be a promposal to her longtime companion Ikusaba, she’s been drawing a blank.
Maizono considers her an interesting specimen and a dear companion? Friend? Best friend? Almost-girlfriend? If she wants to have someone as her date to the Prom, then there’s no one better than Ikusaba. However, it’s pretty unfortunate that she hasn’t been able to find a fun way to ask her yet.
Come to think of it, would Ikusaba even respond positively to a promposal in general? She’s never been one to draw attention to herself, and she is perfectly content to shy away from the public eye whenever she sees fit-which is difficult when she’s one of the many famous and talented Ultimates who attend Hope’s Peak. That is just one of the several aspects that set Ikusaba apart from Maizono, but there is still an attraction.
A more private promposal with just the two of them would probably be best for Ikusaba.
The soldier knows that Maizono is an extremely popular girl that would never hide away from her schoolmates and adoring fans. In fact, it seems she loves them almost as much as they love her. She would probably adore the attention and fanfare of a lavish promposal. And there’s nothing wrong with that; it’s just who she is.
A grand public gesture where everyone could see the two of them would probably be best for Maizono.
Unfortunately, both of them were utterly stumped for any more complex ideas than that.
-
Maizono sits down at her desk in the corner of her dorm room, staring down at the blank piece of paper, tapping the eraser of her mechanical pencil against it. She groans, frustrated and berating herself for not having even one idea.
She curses under her breath, dropping the pencil and burying her face in her hands. “I’ll never be able to come up with something good!” She groans, squishing her face.
The idol decided on something private for Ikusaba, but how private would it have to be? Like, she invites her over and asks her inside, and there’s a painted cardboard sign on the wall? Would that even be too much for the soldier?
Maizono’s pencil slips from between her fingers, and she just lets it clatter to the floor. Her eyes fall to the calendar on the wall with a sigh. There’s still a month and a bit before the prom, but she’s always been the type to plan ahead.
“I’m doomed!” She mutters, placing her face back in her hands.
-
Ikusaba paces from one end of her room to the other, face scrunched up in a frown.
“Romantic gesture, romantic gesture,” She mumbles, “Ugh, I don’t know the first thing about a romantic gesture! And in public? There’s no way I’ll be able to manage that!”
She’s seen plenty of viral promposals online ever since she was younger, and they’re all fantastic, resulting in enthusiastic ‘yeses’ from the receiver like it was nothing. It would be so dangerously easy to steal one of those, but Maizono would definitely give her more credit if it were something original.
Yeah, that’s not her strong suit.
But would there really be something wrong with stealing someone else’s promposal idea as long as Maizono hasn’t seen it before? A lot of them were pretty basic and along the same idea if she really thinks about it.
Get a big cardboard sign, write something stupid and clever on it, and present it to the prospective prom date. It seems simple enough.
But if she wants to show Maizono she really cares, she’s back to the enormous romantic gesture, more than just a sign.
This leads her to youtube, where all of the wild, humiliating promposals with choreographed numbers and songs are. Ikusaba knows deep in her heart these are the things for Maizono but…really? Does she have to?
However, it does (unfortunately) sound like the sort of thing she would love.
…If she’s going to pull this off, she’s going to need some help.
-
“Who’s ever heard of a lowkey promposal?!” Maizono asks the stuffed bear sitting on her shelf. Its red and black eyes stare back at her blankly. “...Of course, you don’t answer.”
She rolls over, burying her face in her pillow, kicking her legs restlessly. “Lowkey, lowkey,” Her voice is muffled, “What a ridiculous notion! Possible probably, but still!”
Maizono flops onto her back, staring at the marks on her ceiling. “Not entirely unheard of, I suppose…but the options are even more limited. Especially if I want something original.”
She stands, hobbling to her desk and sitting down, signing into her computer to search for information.
When in doubt, Pinterest.
-
“Thanks for helping me out, Asahina-san.” Ikusaba groans, gripping the handle of the shopping cart tighter. The two of them make their way side by side down aisle five of the arts and crafts store.
The swimmer smiles. “Oh, no problem! So what exactly did you have in mind?”
Ikusaba bites her lip, pointedly looking in the opposite direction. “I’m not sure yet. I was hoping something here would give me some inspiration. I want to be original, but at the same time, it would be so easy to just write ‘Prom?’ on a sign.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“But it would be more heartfelt if I came up with something original at the same time, you know? But again, not my strong suit.”
“Understood.”
Asahina smiles to herself, remembering the promposal done to her just last week done by her best friend-turned love interest. She’s happy to be here to help out Ikusaba. Everyone deserves a beautiful promposal story no matter what happens in the future.
“So, any ideas yet?” The brunette asks cheerfully as they turn down another aisle.
The black-haired girl groans. “None. Asahina-san, you have to help me!”
The brunette touches his shoulder, steeling her gaze. “Okay, okay, relax, Ikusaba-san, we’re going to figure it out. We’re not coming out of this store until we have an idea. I promise.”
“Thanks, Asahina-san.”
“Don’t mention it! Now let’s see…” Asahina scans the aisle carefully before her eyes land on some cream-coloured letters covered in what has got to be fifty tiny lightbulbs. There’s at least one of every letter of the English alphabet on the shelf, instantly ready to use.
The swimmer tugs on Ikusaba’s sleeve and points. The other girl huffs and turns in that direction, eyes widening as the gears turn in her brain.
“Oh! Maybe I can make a little display or something like that, right? Spell out the word ‘Prom’ and get some little trinkets to go with it, huh? Sure, people have done displays before, but none look exactly the same.”
Asahina nods eagerly. “Now we’re talking, Ikusaba-san! That’s a wonderful idea! Hmm…Those all appear to be English letters, though, so what do you want to do? Spell it out in Romaji?”
The Ultimate Soldier shrugs back. “ Puromu ,” She says, “I think that would be okay. It looks like there are enough letters for it too.”
“Then it’s settled! Let’s get the letters before anyone else does and see if we can find anything else neat to put in the setup!”
Ikusaba nods and pushes the cart over to the shelf, proceeding to pick out the ones she needs.
“Rose petals,” She mutters to herself, “And gentle music. Perhaps a violinist as well.”
Yes, this is going to be good.
-
Maizono frowns at the ceiling from her position on her bed, lazily strumming her guitar.
She’s running out of time to prompose. No, not quite running out of time to ask, but she is running out of time to plan something elaborate and extra special.
“It’s no use!” She complains to the stuffed bear, “And Pinterest was no help at all! All I’m good at is music and singing stuff! I mean, I guess I could use my talent, but wouldn’t that be too predictable?”
She’s starting to think the bear is never going to answer.
“Okay, now I think writing her a song is too much. But as of right now, it seems performance is all I’ve got…I mean, it’ll probably work. Yeah, let’s try it, little stuffed Monokuma!” She exclaims, sitting up all of the way, adjusting her guitar in the process.
“Alright, let’s see… what’re the best things about Ikusaba that I can put into song? Why do I want to take her as my date to the prom? Hmmm, Ikusaba-san…”
Ikusaba is beautiful and strong, and very intelligent. She would most certainly rock a stunning dress or a well-put-together suit or even a combination of both like she’s seen online sometimes. But that’s not the only thing that’s wonderful about her.
Whenever Maizono is around the black-haired girl, her chest erupts with butterflies, and her cheeks go strangely pink. She knows she’s smitten with the Ultimate Soldier, but will she be able to convey her feelings properly in song?
Well, of course, she can! She’s the Ultimate Pop Sensation. After all, it’s what she does!
However, she doesn’t exactly have a lot of time now. If she’s going to pull this off, she might need a little bit of help. Or at least a second professional opinion.
-
“Okay, Maizono-chan,” Akamatsu Kaede smiles brightly, holding out her hand, “Show me what you’ve got so far!”
Maizono frowns at the scrap piece of paper she was workshopping some lyric ideas on before reluctantly handing it over to the pianist. Akamatsu reads it over carefully before smiling back at her friend.
“Wow, Maziono-chan, this is really good so far!” She commends her, “How long are you hoping this song to be?”
The idol considers. “Only a couple of lines. I don’t want it to be too long, of course...Do you think Ikusaba-san would even like or appreciate a song?”
“Ikusaba-san will appreciate anything you do for her,” The blonde smirks, “After all, I think she’ll be thrilled enough that you’re promposing her in general!”
Maizono frowns, cheeks going a bit rosy. “W-What makes you think that?”
“Oh, come on, Maizono-chan. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way she looks at you. We certainly have noticed the way you look at her in turn! You could hand her a piece of trash on a stick and ask her to prom, and her eyes would light up. She will be delighted to accept anything you offer her.”
The royal blue-haired girl looks down at her lap.
Could that really be true? They have flirted in the past, but she always assumed only her own was genuine. There is no possible way that someone as wonderful as Ikusaba would love and appreciate her that much.
But then again, if she didn’t believe that on some level, she wouldn’t be going through with such an elaborate promposal.
Probably.
But that’s exactly how Maizono feels about the soldier. If those sentiments are genuinely returned, then…
Maizono’s head snaps up. “How soon do you think I can finish this?”
Akamatsu grins.
-
Rose petals are scattered all over the floor of Ikusaba’s basement.
Hundreds of fairy lights that look like quartz crystals hang down from the walls, filling the otherwise dark room with dazzling light. On a table off to the side sits a vase filled with pink roses, and next to it is a small box of chocolates. And finally, in the very back of the room against the wall, are the letters Ikusaba and Asahina picked out, spelling out ‘ Puromu ?’
Ikusaba paces from one end of the small room to the other, waiting for Maizono to show up. She had texted Maizono ten minutes ago asking if she could come to her home, to which she responded she would be “right there.”
She should’ve been here by now.
Or maybe Ikusaba had lost all concept of timing to her nerves.
But little did she know a very-jittery Maizono had just pulled into her driveway, a bouquet of flowers and her guitar in the trunk. She’s nervous as well—so nervous, in fact, that her knees nearly buckle under her the second she steps out onto the pavement.
She goes to the trunk with slow, careful steps, slinging the guitar over her shoulders first before grabbing the bouquet. She takes a deep, cleansing breath before shutting the trunk and forcing her feet to carry her towards the door.
She knocks once, twice, three times before picking up the rapid shuffle of feet racing towards the door. Maizono hides the bouquet of flowers behind her back just as the door is flung open by a frazzled-looking Ikusaba.
Maizono smiles warmly. “Hello, Ikusaba-chan.” She greets her.
Ikusaba nods back breathlessly, making room in the doorway for the musician to slip inside. “Hello, Maizono-chan. Come on in.”
She does.
Maizono’s eyes travel the room curiously, looking around for any clues that might indicate why she was asked here so suddenly. Luckily, she doesn’t have to wonder about that for long.
“Will you come down to the basement with me?” Ikusaba asks politely, “There’s something I’d like to show you.”
“Hmm? Oh, yes, of course! Lead the way, Ikusaba-chan!”
The soldier turns and walks towards the stairs leading down to the basement, her crush following close behind.
“Alright, um, I set up a little something for you,” The black-haired girl mumbles as they reach the bottom, “So, I actually called you here because I set up a little something for you. I hope you like it, but it’s totally fine if you don’t.”
Maizono smiles warmly. “I’m sure whatever it is, I’ll love it. Although there is something I’ll want to show you a-” She trails off as they enter the room together, and her eyes fall on Ikusaba’s little display.
“ Puromu ,” She whispers, “No way…”
Ikusaba shyly moves so that she’s standing in front of the display, facing Maizono. “Maizono-chan, will you go to p-”
“NO!”
“N-No?!”
Maizono curses. “No, I didn’t mean I wouldn’t go with you; I just wanted to be the one to prompose to you!” She’s quick to explain to her companion, “I brought my guitar here because I wrote a little song. Listen,” She shifts her guitar, so it’s in front of her, “One, two, three, four, I -”
“Not so fast,” The soldier intervenes, “I was already in the process of my promposal, so you’re going to have to wait your turn. So, Maizono Sayaka-”
“Ikusaba Mukuro-”
“-Will you go to prom with me?”
“-Will you go to prom with me?”
Both of them fall silent immediately after, locking eyes. Of course, their silence only lasts for a second before they dissolve into laughter.
“Let’s just…let’s just agree to go together, alright? I mean, we both technically got a chance to prompose, so…”
Maizono beams. “Sounds great to me.”
She carefully sets her guitar on the ground, and she crosses the room to stand with her. “May I kiss you?” She asks politely.
“I would be rather upset if you didn’t.”
The idol smiles and presses her lips to the other’s.
It feels like all of the stars have finally aligned.
Lil something I wrote for a writing contest. Didn’t make the shortlist so gonna post it gjrgnklng
My hands are shaking so much I can practically feel my bones clattering against each other. I clutch the collar of my mahogany sweater, trying in vain to steady my breathing, listening for the sound of my parent's truck on the gravel driveway.
They would be home any minute. There's still time to change my mind and turn back, I know, but I can't put this off any longer. I'm tired of living a lie. I don't want to go another birthday with the wrong name being sung or being introduced as my parent's daughter, not just simply their child.
I don't know if they will accept me, but I can dream. To be honest, I don't know their opinions on these sorts of things; I've never heard them talk about it before. However, if they kick me out, I don't know what I'd do. I tried to explain who I really am to my grandparents, but they had just smiled and nodded along, confused. I don't think they really got it, but I think they would let me live with them.
No, I shouldn't worry about that until the time comes. If the time comes, that is.
Just as easily as I can picture them throwing me out onto the street, disgusted, with nothing but the clothes on my back, I can picture them accepting me. My mother, slightly confused but enthusiastic, asking to be taught how to use my pronouns properly and clarify how to refer to me. My father, patting me on the back and murmuring he's proud of me before retreating to his office to do research of his own to understand me better.
The sound of tires on tiny stones outside snaps me out of my little reverie, announcing the return of my parents. Almost instantaneously, my chest is seized with panic and gut-wrenching fear, my heart beating so fast it feels like it's trying to escape my chest. I grip the kitchen counter, trying to steady myself. It takes all of my strength not to change my mind about telling them.
I'll tell them over dinner, I decide. It's pizza night. There's no way anyone can be mad on pizza night.
My mother enters the kitchen first, setting her keys down on the counter with a sigh. "I tell you, Layla, each day is colder than the last."
I smile weakly, cringing at the use of the wrong name. But I can't be mad; she doesn't know…yet.
"Make sure to continue to bundle up good then," I reply before asking, "Where's Dad with the pizza?"
Or let's get this over with as soon as possible.
"He was just answering a text; he'll be in, in just a second," She turns, looking at me for the first time since coming home, scrutinizing me with her eyes, "Is everything okay, my darling? You look…upset about something. You can tell me anything, you know."
"I know that." I lie weakly, grabbing the roll of paper towels and venturing off into the dining room to set the table. I hear my father come inside and the tempting aroma of a fresh pepperoni pizza with him. I hear him mumbling to my mother, followed by the scraping sound of plates behind brought out of the counter.
It isn't much longer before my mother enters the dining room with two full plates, with my father bringing up the rear. I take my plate from my mom, muttering my thanks and taking my seat at the table with my family.
I stare down at the three greasy pieces oozing freshly-melted cheese and perfectly crisp pepperoni circles. Usually, I would be the first to tear into this, but tonight, it just makes me queasy, and I don't think I'll be able to manage to keep even a single bite down.
On the other hand, my parents have no trouble enjoying their meals. My father's eyes are blank as he stares mindlessly at nothing. My mother keeps sneaking glances at me out of the corner of her eye, and I keep pretending not to notice.
I force myself to reach out with a trembling hand, lifting the end of a triangle slice to my lips.
"Okay, Layla, seriously, tell me what's wrong!" My mother demands suddenly, staring me down. I automatically shrink under her intense gaze, and I drop the slice before I can even taste it. My father looks up curiously, still gnawing on the same piece of pizza.
My stomach keeps twisting in knots, and I subconsciously grind my teeth. I take a couple of deep breaths, willing myself to speak. To just say the words.
…Why is it so difficult?!
"I…Mom. Dad, I…"
"Mhm?" My mother prompts encouragingly.
"There's, uh…something I need to tell you two…This isn't exactly going to be easy for me, so, uh, I hope you guys will hear me out and not say anything until I'm finished, okay?"
My mother blinks. "Of course! No matter what, you'll always be our little girl."
I wince. "Um, see, that's the thing… I'm not a girl. And I'm not a boy either. Um, truthfully, I identify somewhere in the middle. I use the umbrella term of 'nonbinary' for myself."
"Layla-"
"Furthermore, my name is not 'Layla,' I continue determinedly, looking up to meet my mother's gaze, "My name is Mars, and I use they and them pronouns." I let out a long sigh, trying to gauge how my mother feels despite her unreasonable expression. "Look, I know this is…a lot. But I've been feeling this way for a long time, and this is the conclusion I've come to. And I'm not ashamed."
I gulp, practically collapsing in my seat. There, I did it. Good job, me.
"..."
The fact that neither of them said a word yet worries me, and a rapid string of profanities runs through my head. It takes all of my willpower not to beg them to speak. I get this horrible sinking feeling in my stomach as my gaze quickly switches between my mother and father.
Suddenly my mother stands, pushing her seat back. She stands there for what feels like hours before she turns and leaves the dining room.
My heart drops.
I turn my head to look helplessly at my father, who looks once again lost in thought.
"Dad…"
His eyes clear and flicker over to me. Oh God, did I make a mistake telling them?! It's only two more years until I go away to university. I could've stuck it out…right?
I mean, sure, it would hurt to keep being referred to incorrectly, but if it would hold a roof over my head and keep my parents' love…
"Dad…" I plead again quietly.
The silence seems to stretch on forever until he finally opens his mouth.
"You delusional little girl. Do not bring this up again."
Just like that, he goes back to eating his pizza as my heart shatters into a million tiny fragments.
I can only stare ahead blankly at the wall. Although my mother didn't express exactly how she felt, it's pretty clear I've been met here with nothing but disapproval from both of my parents. But I suppose, at the very least, I won't be kicked out as long as I shut up about it.
"May I be excused?" I mutter.
"Are you not hungry?"
"Not anymore."
"You won't get anything later."
"I understand."
"Alright."
I push my chair back, grab my plate and bring it into the kitchen. I then go up the stairs to the second floor, passing a bathroom door with the faint sounds of crying behind it on the way to my room.
As soon as I shut my door, I flop down on my bed and let the tears fall, muffling my sobs with my pillow.
Damn it…I don't know why I said anything at all.
I should've kept quiet. I should've just sucked it up and pretended to be a perfect little cis girl-I mean, how hard could that have been?
Thinking about it now, I don't see why I thought coming out would be a good idea. I mean, of course, they wouldn't accept me; what was I thinking? I mean, it's sad children can't expect unconditional love of parents nowadays, but I thought at least they…
Their opinions are important to me, but it doesn't change who I am. I realize their reaction doesn't change anything about who I am. What's important is that I love myself.
After all, who's opinion is more important to me than me?
A/N: I think I wrote this in 2020 or something without really paying attention to what I was writing.
Summary: A young person in the midst of a global pandemic reflects.
I often find myself fascinated with the patterns that frost can form on windows.
I like the way it swirls and climbs the panes of glass, the way it seems to spread and grow from one source, the bumps and crevasses you feel when you run your fingers over it. . .it's truly something magical.
Ever since winter started, that's all I've really been able to interest myself in. There's not much else to do, having already exhausted every other form of entertainment I could possibly engross myself in.
I've watched all of the television shows. Organized all of my belongings over and over again. I've even read all of the books I have. It's not like I can even go to my local library to get more books; it's been shut down for weeks.
Streets once filled with cars and trucks and such are now empty, highways falling silent. Once filled with the sounds of whooping children and barking dogs, Parks are abandoned completely, rust gathering on the swingsets. Only a few people are scattered throughout the grocery stores, their faces covered and shielded away from the world. And the schools once filled with the most interesting young adults, the next generation, this world's future, have their desks gathering dust.
Like frost on a window overnight, the virus continues to grow and spread over everything in its way. Much like the way frost makes it difficult to see the outside world, the virus makes it difficult to venture out into the outside world. Life is passing all of us by.
This is supposed to be the prime of our lives for us young adults. We're supposed to be out late partying, missing sleep because we're studying, experimenting with drugs and alcohol we really shouldn't be touching. . .but we are stuck at home. All because some older adults refuse to follow the rules and have some common courtesy.
Summary: A cat reflects on the pain their human went through.
My name is Juniper. I'm a four-year-old Russian Blue, and if the universe doesn't stop screwing over my human soon, we're going to have problems.
I really don't mind if my precious Emmerson blames the marks on her arms on me-as long as I can still be here for her. It's not like her parents know or care about the scars on her arms and thighs, so I have no chance of being thrown out because of them. She has no one there for her, not even her own family.
I can only imagine how hard and how bad this 'school' place is for her. I don't know exactly what it is, but she always comes home from it in tears, and I am always there to lick them away. It's become a regular thing for her to immediately seek me out after coming through the door to cry into my fur. The wetness is uncomfortable as I have a natural, instinctual aversion to water but anything my precious human needs.
When I notice that the sun has dipped low enough in the sky for Emmerson to come home, I always go to the same spot at the top of the couch I do every day, so I'm accessible for her to find. If I'm her comfort object, then I'm going to do the best damn job until I'm gone.
Emmerson is so weird, though. If this 'school' place causes her so much pain, why does she keep going back? She feels pain just being at home and school, so it can't be an escape from here. No, an escape would make her feel better, at least temporarily.
Here I see fresh blood on her wrists all of the time and parents who have just given up on her by now. I wish I could stay English words and wave my tail and make all of her pain and troubles go away, but I just can't.
There's nothing I can do. After all, I'm just a cat.
All I can do is purr for her and let her match her breathing to mine. Lick her tears away, nuzzle her and let her know that at the very least, I'll love her forever no matter what. I will always be her fur to cry on and protect her with all of my lives.
People say house cats are useless. All we do is eat, sleep and tot around all fat and lazy. We serve no real purpose, and maybe we don't. But we care about our families. They're our everything. And it's a real kick in the primordial pouch to see them hurting.
The worst thing I discovered after a long time, though, is that you can try and try and try and do all you can, and in the end, your efforts just turn out to be fruitless. It still won't be enough, and it's not enough reason to stay. I wasn't enough reason to stay. I can't blame her after the years of pain, but still;
I feel like I’ve heard before there’s a lack of Mahipeko content on here so here’s my most recent oneshot. You can read more of them on my Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2279318
Alternatively read this oneshot on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37641115
"I think it's really admirable how you can speak so many languages, Pekoyama-san," Koizumi yawns, braiding the silver-haired girl's hair, "How many can you speak again?"
Pekoyama shuts her eyes. "Growing up, I was instructed in five languages. Mmm, five? No, that is correct."
Koizumi smiles. "That's really admirable, Pekoyama-san. All I know is Japanese."
"There's nothing wrong with that. Everyone here on the island is fluent in Japanese anyway, so there is no problem there."
Koizumi secures the first braid with a hair elastic before moving on to the next. "Yeah. But I think more than half of the people here speak more than one language. I heard a rumour Japanese isn't Komaeda's first language as well! Can you believe it?"
"Understandable, considering he was born in Europe. You should hear his life story sometime; it's rather interesting."
The photographer considers it. "Perhaps I will."
Both of them are silent for a while, while Koizumi finishes up. ". . .I'm going to learn a second language." She decides.
"How admirable. I wish you luck."
-
Koizumi stares herself down in the mirror, focusing on the movement of her lips. It had been a couple of months since that conversation with Pekoyama, and since then, she had thrown herself into the English language.
Sonia and Komaeda had been helping her a lot, and now she could say some simple phrases and understand them in turn. They came by to her cottage almost every day to help her practice.
'Introduce yourself.' She urges, taking a deep breath. "My name is Ko-no. My name is Mahiru Koizumi. Westerners do given names first, right?" She grins, "Pekoyama-san is very pretty. I am, you are, he is, she is, they are, we are. . .ah, whatever."
There is a knock on the door.
Koizumi brushes some hair out of her face and smiles. "Come in! It's open!"
Pekoyama quietly steps inside with a small smile. "Hello, Koizumi-san."
The photographer turns and beams at her. "Hi, Pekoyama-san! You are very nice. You are very nice and pretty?"
Something briefly flashes over Pekoyama's face, but she recovers quickly. "Is that the language you're learning?"
She grins and nods. "English! You probably can't tell, but Sonia says I sound really good."
"I'm sure. Anyways, ready for coffee?"
The photographer nods. "Absolutely, yes! Tea. Let's go have coffee!"
-
"Hey, Pekoyama-san!" Koizumi calls across the room.
Pekoyama looks up from the book she was flipping through. "Yes?"
"I really like you. Do you know what you would look really good in? My arms."
". . .I'm sorry. What did you say?"
She doesn't have the heart to tell this incredible girl she's fluent in English.
The red-haired girl smiles to herself. "Oh, nothing."
-
"Hey, Pekoyama-san, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Like, wow. I would like to kiss you some time."
"You sound far more comfortable with English than you did a few months ago."
-
Koizumi smirks, leaning across the table, getting her face closer to the silver-haired girl finishing up her coffee.
"Pekoyama-san, I'm in love with you."
The swordswoman sighs, standing up and getting rid of her mug. She gives Koizumi a small smile before exiting the building.
Just before she passes through the doors, she says, "I'm in love with you too, Mahiru."
And before Koizumi can fully process what just happened, Pekoyama is gone.
-
Pekoyama knew.
She knew the whole time. She knew English. She knew every little word Koizumi was saying and knew she was flirting with her, had feelings for her.
She didn't do a damn thing to indicate that she knew. She didn't even bother mentioning she spoke English.
Koizumi doesn't know whether to be pissed or amazed.
But she didn't even get to the most shocking part yet.
Pekoyama said she was in love with her too.
. . .
. . .
. . .
What?
-
Koizumi ambushes Pekoyama right outside of her cottage.
"Hey, what gives?"
Pekoyama doesn't flinch, merely meeting the photographer's gaze. "Whatever do you mean, Koizumi-san?"
"You knew English the whole time and didn't think to tell me?! What the hell?! You've just been letting me make a fool of myself this entire time?! And then you come back with a 'hey, I'm in love with you too?' What the actual hell, Pekoyama?!"
Pekoyama sighs. "To be fair, you never asked."
"Still, you shouldn't have-"
"I know. I'm sorry, Koizumi-san," Pekoyama bows her head, "I was startled. I was flustered. And then I felt it was too late for me to reveal anything. I was foolish, and it wasn't fair to you. But I just really wanted you to know in the moment that I'm in love with you as well."
Neither of them says anything for a moment.
". . .Well, I suppose I'll just head inside th-"
Koizumi firmly presses her lips to Pekoyama's, making her stumble back and hit the wall. It only takes a second for the swordswoman's instincts to kick in, and she takes Koizumi by the hips, kissing her back with a passion.
Koizumi pulls back slightly, staring deep into Pekoyama's eyes. "I love you, Peko."
Pekoyama nods breathlessly. "I love you too, Mahiru," She responds before bringing her lips back to hers.
Just Lucky: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564343/chapters/67422223
It’s basically Komahina in a world based off of the anime/manga Kakegurui. President Celestia Ludenberg rules the school with an iron fist but with the upcoming election, perhaps someone can change that. . ?
Meshihina, need I say more? Servant comes across a cold and scared Reserve Course survivor and takes an interest in him. Their story progresses from there.
April 14, 1912: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33940666/chapters/84404215
Komahina on the Titanic. They may fall in love but can they change their fates?
Raising The Stakes: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31079660/chapters/76785098
The demon Hinata Hajime, skilled demon hunter sells his soul to is very attractive and helpful in the face of danger.
Write Because We’re Running Out Of Time: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35827273
A oneshot.Hinata and Komaeda are writing because of different causes, but both don't want to forget. Both are changing for different reasons due to fates that are anything but good.
Still in progress. A Komahina story based off the television show Killing Eve but could still be understood completely without any prior knowledge of the show.Hinata thinks there's nothing sexier than a man who can put him out of his misery. Alternatively, a security services operative and a professional killer go head to head in an epic game of cat-and-mouse, and maybe find some sort of dangerous love along the way.
I have a ton more oneshots and fics on my Ao3-https://archiveofourown.org/users/Preppycat/profile I’m also on Wattpad as HoneyBuddah707.
Alternatively Read On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38044114
Dani smoothes down her dress, making her way down the hall, trying to keep her mind on the task at hand.
She had been trying to do her best to relax that evening, trying to enjoy a cup of tea while she attended to her corresponds. Sota and the others at La Voz didn't seem to need anything from her for a while and had instructed her just to relax and wait for the oncoming storm, not giving anything away.
She certainly hadn't been using her free time to daydream about steamy make-out sessions with the Segunda. That isn't proper Primera behaviour and is not the reason she had ended up spilling her tea all over her desk and had to go get a cloth to wipe it up.
"Primera."
A sudden voice behind her nearly makes her flinch, and she turns around to see Carmen staring at her intensely.
"C-Carmen."
"What are you doing out here so late?"
"I foolishly spilt some tea, so I was just going to get a towel or something to wipe it up. And then I was going to sleep." She explains.
The other girl smirks. "You really shouldn't be walking around the house unattended so late at night. Who knows what predators lurk out here? Please let me accompany you. If something awful happened to our beloved Primera, I would never forgive my-"
"Alright, alright, I get it. You can walk me to the closet."
"Yay!"
Dani turns and continues making her way down the hall with Carmen now on her heels. They arrive at the closet, Dani going in first and Carmen after, pulling the door shut behind them. By the time Dani turns around and notices, it's too late.
"Carmen, no, that door jams easily! We won't be able to get out!"
Her face flushes red. "Oh. . .whoops."
Dani groans. "Great. Just what are we going to do now? We're going to be stuck in here until morning at least."
Carmen lazily claps her hands together. "That's. . .wow, that's a lot of time to kill. Hopefully, we can make the best of it."
". . .What are you instigating?"
Carmen takes a couple of steps closer to her. "Nothing. . .or everything."
Dani rolls her eyes. "You're so damn flirtatious." She growls before rapidly closing the distance and kissing her.
Due to it being such a small space, Carmen's back hits the wall almost immediately, and she hitches her leg around the Primera's waist; all societal rules and expectations dropped in an instant.
Dani runs her hand under Carmen's skirt and up her thigh, dangerously high. Neither of them was ready for 'all the way' yet, but they did enjoy getting dangerously close when they had the chance.
Their teeth smack against each other as they frantically devour each other, not wanting to leave a piece of skin untouched.
"So what will. . .we do. . .after this?" Dani asks in between kisses.
"Wait it out," Carmen responds breathlessly.
"Kiss me, Segunda."
"Whatever you ask, Primera."
-
The Primera wakes up slumped against the wall in the closet the next morning and all of last night comes rushing back to her, she panics.
She climbs to her feet in an instant, smoothing down her dress and hair before waking Carmen.
"Wake up!" She hisses, "Some staff will be in here any minute to get cleaning supplies and you have to go make breakfast for me and Mateo!"
"I'm up, I'm up," Carmen grumbles, pulling herself up onto her feet with the wall, "Don't make such a fuss, someone will hear."
Just then, they hear footsteps outside the door. The staff has come.
"I had fun last night." Carmen can't help but whisper as the door is unlocked.
