*censors all straight activity*
hets?? in MY school idol anime??
People like this make me hate the LL fandom so much. You’re an embarrassment.
the rly weird thing is that’s an untagged post from a gay af blog! it’s cool that u actually gotta put in effort to find reasons to raise ur blood pressure 😘
also ur tags sound straight
Yoshiko had never really appreciated walking along the beach before, but when Zuramaru had talked for hours about how pretty the ocean looked in the evening, when the surf and waves sparkled in the withering sunlight and the seashells lay scattered on the wet sand, glistening as the tide went out, she’d made up her mind to make it a date.
As it turned out, the evening beach wasn’t quite as great as Zuramaru had made it sound – so maybe the girl was a better writer than she’d even been given credit for, because the way she’d talked about it had made it seem magical. No, the beach was full of gritty sand that stuck between her toes and stayed glued to her feet when it absolutely had no business doing so, seashells that cracked under her feet and caught her off-guard. The ocean wasn’t even that pretty – it was full of seaweed, and gross, off-white sea foam lined the beach where the tide had been.
Still, her own little clammy hand was holding Zuramaru’s fingers interlaced, so maybe things weren’t nearly as bad as she was making them out to be.
That said, there was still the silence – warm and comfortable, from Zuramaru’s perspective, but Yoshiko really wished she had some music to listen to. She couldn’t deal with silence like the other girl could – silence wasn’t a gateway to fantasy worlds but to her own, recursive thoughts. Like how Zuramaru’s hand was really, really soft. Just like her cheeks. Just like her voice when it was just the two of them.
“So, what do you think, Yoshiko-chan?” Just like that.
“It’s nice,” Yoshiko mumbled, though she wasn’t really sure what was nice. It just was.
Zuramaru just giggled, squeezed her hand (eep), and looked back out to the horizon. The sun barely hovered over the sea line, miles and miles away, painting the world in hues of orange and gold. Yoshiko took in a breath, not entirely because Zuramaru’s hand was still tight on hers, but also because of the look on the girl’s face as she stared at the sunset. Eyes shone a brighter gold than any ocean wave, smile curving up on one side of her face, bigger and bigger until it spread from ear to ear and the corners of her eyes started to crinkle.
Yoshiko fumbled in her bag for her camera, pulled it out, and did her best to snap a picture without being too obvious. Yet, right as she clicked the button, the girl moved out of the way just enough, and –
When the picture printed, she was left with a decidedly unsatisfying blur on an otherwise (boring) picturesque sunset. Yoshiko opened her mouth to whine, beg for a better picture, but Zuramaru had her eyes on other things.
“Woah!!” she said, shaking tiny fists and staring wide-eyed at the camera with an exhilarated grin. “How did it do that? It printed it right there, zura! Right there!!”
“O-oh,” Yoshiko said, stumbling over her words and narrowly avoiding the same thing with her legs, “It’s an instant camera. Whenever you take a picture, it prints it straight after.”
“This is the future, zura!” the girl cried, throwing her hands up in the air. Yoshiko placed a hand over her chest, doing her best to ignore the sudden thump and the ball of something in her stomach. Ugh.
“….wanna take a picture together?” Yoshiko tried her best not to sound too enthusiastic. If Zuramaru noticed, she didn’t let on, instead nodding fervently and snuggling up close – way too close. Yoshiko resisted the urge to create some distance between the two of them to save herself from how painfully, awfully hot her cheeks were but this was a prime chance to get a photo of Zuramaru so – so – so she had to suffer.
She counted kittens in her head as she leaned her head in closer, caught a glance of Zuramaru’s gigantic smile, and couldn’t stop a grin forming on her face. Then, she pressed the button.
Surely longer than seconds later, Yoshiko peeled herself away, watched and waited for the photo to appear. Zuramaru stared holes into the camera, as if afraid she’d blink and miss it.
Yoshiko had to remember to breathe again.
“Cute,” she muttered as the photo appeared, before correcting herself in a fluster. “The photo, I mean.”
Zuramaru looked utterly enthralled by the whole thing, reaching out her hands but waiting for the affirmative on whether or not she could touch it, then clasping it with two hands as if it were the most amazing thing she’d ever seen.
“You’re right, zura,” she said, beaming. “This photo is really cute!! Can I keep it?”
Well – Yoshiko had been planning on keeping it for herself, but wasn’t this a little bit better?
“Of course,” she said, smiling, cheeks still just a titch red. Zuramaru held up her prize to the sun, comparing the sunset in the photo to the real one, vanishing behind the sealine.
After a few moments, though, she carefully placed it inside her bag, and re-interlaced her fingers with Yoshiko’s. That familiar warmth was back, and Yoshiko was sure the other girl could feel how clammy her hands were, but she didn’t seem to mind. No, Zuramaru kept beaming.
“Thank you,” she said, fixing Yoshiko the most brilliant smile she’d ever seen.
God, she was weak.
Everything about Mari’s vacation house was Western – it made sense, considering her family, but the real problem that presented was the unfortunate lack of futons. Which meant that the nine of them would be sleeping in beds. Which meant, considering there were three double beds and only nine single beds, Yoshiko had pretty good odds of sharing a bed with someone.
They’d decided to draw straws to see who was sleeping with who, and who were the lucky three that got the single beds – and internally, she’d groaned because Yoshiko knew what her luck was like.
When they’d all chosen a straw and revealed their hands, Yoshiko did her best not to slump because god, she hated when she was right. You, Mari and Riko were the lucky ones who got single beds. Chika and Kanan were sharing one, and Dia and Ruby another.
That left Yoshiko and Zuramaru to share the last one. Of course.
The fact that she’d be sharing a bed with her, of all people, stuck on her mind all evening. Through dinner, she successfully managed to completely miss her mouth with a spoonful of curry, smearing it across her cheek. It took her a solid five or so seconds before it registered that the thing Mari was rolling on the floor laughing at was her. Ugh. Zuramaru had insisted on wiping it clean, just to make matters worse, leaning in so close with a washcloth that Yoshiko could see the gentle furrow of her eyebrows as she focused, the way her eyes darted from here to there, sparkling in the light of living room and – uuughh.
The real kicker came when she’d come down to grab a glass of juice before bed. The process of falling down wouldn’t have been quite so bad had Zuramaru not decided to accompany her, and had Zuramaru not decided to stand right in front of her as tripped, and had she not spilt juice all down Zuramaru’s pyjamas.
The bitter taste of knowing it was her own fault she’d ended up in this situation at all didn’t make it easier to swallow at all.
“That was really unlucky about my pyjamas, zura…” Zuramaru’d mumbled, getting changed in the bathroom. “I should have brought more than one set.”
When Zuramaru had emerged from the bathroom, stripped of her soaked, sticky pyjamas and clad in a tight tank top and p – pa – pan –
It took all Yoshiko had in her to not spit out her (second) glass of juice.
“What in Satan’s name do you think you’re wearing?” she sputtered, guarding her eyes with her arms, spilling more juice in the process (sorry Mari).
Zuramaru just tilted her head, “Well, my pyjamas are dirty, so this is all I have to sleep in, zura.” She yawned as her sentence waned, rubbing her eyes.
Yoshiko slowly uncovered her eyes, nodding because this entire situation was self-induced and why oh why did she have such bad luck.
“So, uh, should we…go to sleep, then?” she offered, trying her absolutely best (and failing) to keep her gaze away from Zuramaru’s soft, squishy stomach, her revealed shoulders, the curve of her chest, and – aaaaaaaahhhhhhh.
“Mm,” Zuramaru nodded, climbing into the bed and crawling under the covers, a soft smile spreading across her face as she settled down. Yoshiko turned out the light, thankful for something to cover up the awful, awful, terrible blush blooming across her cheeks. She put her hands to her face before slipping under the covers. Disgustingly warm, ugh. Still, she thought – it couldn’t be that bad. The bed was relatively big, so she probably wouldn’t even notice the other girl.
As it turned out, Zuramaru was a sleep cuddler. That is to say, as soon as her breathing eased and Yoshiko was sure the girl was fast asleep, she heard a rustle of the covers and felt two arms wrap themselves gently around her middle. Yoshiko froze, because what else was the correct response to spontaneous spooning with your crush, as your crush was in her underwear?
She could feel the girl’s breasts pressing into her back, the soft inhale-exhale of her breath on the base of her neck, the gentle squish of her tummy against her – why why why why why.
After taking a deep breath, Yoshiko came to the sad, sad conclusion that she wasn’t getting to sleep any time soon.
A/N: So, you might ask, what is Miki doing at 4:54am with three grape lollipops, eleven individually wrapped lemon-flavoured Mentos and a can of Coke Zero? Why, I’m kinkshaming , my good friend Nina. Her art blog is , by the way. I hope you enjoy, you filthy fucking sinner.
two ways to face a problem i guess