So I got to thinking about the differences between cultures and their standards and customs around dating and all that.
Now I find myself wanting to write a fic where Akko totally thinks she's dating Diana, but Diana is completely clueless. And through whatever series of events, Diana comes to Akko and is all "Blah blah! People think we're TOGETHER!"
And Akko's just, "..........We're not?" Which turns Diana into a sputtering mess because of course they're not.
And it turns into a stupid argument about how Diana had confessed and everything!
Akko makes little air quotes, "I believe in your believing heart!"
"I... That wasn't a confession!" Diana argues.
"Well, it sure felt like one to me!"
And maybe the peanut gallery (Amanda, Barbara, Sucy, etc.) chime in with something. I don't know yet.
Maybe Akko goes on about how they followed the "Three Date Model" (You can look at it on the website linked in the images) and everything! Sure, she was shocked, but DANG was it ever a nice surprise!
Of course, Lotte and the others had arrived right after Diana's confession, so Akko didn't get to say anything back. "And, I mean, nevermind poor Chumley!"
"What about Chumley?"
"Diana! You can't just... You don't just... It's rude!"
And poor Diana just can't keep up with the logic. "What on Earth are you talking about?"
"It makes people uncomfortable!" Akko says with a level of significance that pings something in Diana's mind.
And part of me just wants her to stare at Akko so seriously for a long moment and then blurt out "Lesbians?" in all her befuddlement.
And Akko just, "What?? No!! I mean just... doing any of that in public!"
And WHOOPS! Look at the time! It's almost 5 AM over here and I still haven't gone to bed! Let's cut it there and I'll poke around with it when I'm not falling asleep over the keyboard!
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“Mornin’ English,” Angie greeted as she waltzed into her best friend’s apartment.  She hadn’t bothered with knocking; she and Peggy had been real close lately, and she knew the woman had been awake for a while—had heard her shuffling about.  It was no big deal.
At least, she hadn’t thought it would be a big deal until she found herself frozen in the doorway.  She had to physically remind herself to close the damn door, at least to preserve Peggy’s modesty.
Said modesty, however, was already well and truly compromised as Angie found herself staring at a mostly naked Peggy Carter.  She had never seen the Englishwoman so…natural and undone.  If anybody had ever tried to tell her that Peggy had so much skin, she probably would have laughed at them.  Still, there she was in a pair of faded pants that had been hacked into shorts, and what appeared to be the exceptionally shortened remains of an old slip.  The slip was so old, in fact, that Angie could see Peggy’s bra and the breasts struggling to escape it.
Then the rivers of sweat caught her eye, and she realized with a start that Peggy was in the middle of one-armed push-ups and still hadn’t acknowledged her.  No.  Instead, her gaze was burning a hole through her right hand as she counted.
“One hundred three…”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!  One hundred three?  Four?  FIVE!  Angie’s jaw dropped and she was unable to draw her eyes away from Peggy’s trembling muscles.
“One hundred six…”  Peggy grunted.
Angie’s head spun, and she felt her stomach flip in that familiar and delicious way.
“One…hundred seven…”  Peggy grit out between clenched teeth, and huffing as she lowered herself once more.
Angie damn near swooned.  She could see the power and the effort in Peggy’s trembling limbs.
“Come on, Peggy!” came the heated, accented muttering.  She shook.  Sweat dripped to the floor and down her arms and back.  “Damn it, Margaret!  Come on!”  Then, with a grunt and half a growl, Peggy began to push herself up again!  “One…hundred…”
But then her arm buckled, and she fell face-first to the carpet with an undignified yell.
Angie watched, spellbound and completely incapable of words, as her friend lay in a sweaty heap on the floor.  Somehow, Peggy Carter as a heaving, sweaty mess was the sexiest damn thing she’d ever seen!
Peggy managed to flip onto her back with some effort, and Angie very nearly crumpled to the floor at the sight.
Peggy—prim, pristine Peggy—with her skin nearly flaming red and dulling to a very rosy pink.  Peggy coated in a sheen of sweat that made her body glisten in the morning sunlight.  Peggy with her hair matted to her forehead and neck.  Peggy breathing heavily with her lips sinfully—temptingly—parted.  Peggy with her full breasts rising and falling with the huff of her labored breathing beneath the thread-bare slip.  Peggy with limbs trembling like she was completely undone.  Peggy with a throbbing jugular vein that Angie suddenly—desperately—wanted to suckle.
Her senses were filled with Peggy.
Angie was almost sure she had come undone herself.
“Angie…” Peggy’s breathless voice called, and damn if it didn’t call to parts of Angie that she kept buried deep inside herself.
“Yeah?” croaked the actress.  Smooth.  Still, she managed to follow Peggy’s hand as it dragged across the floor to point at something.  A towel.  “Oh.  Sure!”
Peggy smothered herself with the towel when it landed on her face, and stayed that way for a long time.
Angie, for her part, found herself relieved that Peg hadn’t made any mention of her privacy being violated or of being embarrassed.  She just continued to lay there, a sweaty vision with legs that went on for miles.
“So…” Angie said, mostly to break the one-sided (probably) awkwardness she felt.  She was surprised how dry her mouth felt.  “’Hundred seven?”
The towel moved from her friend’s face, and she was pinned to the spot by those eyes that always reminded her of an owl about to strike.  “I’ve been trying to make it to one hundred eight.”  She sat up in one fluid motion and then pulled herself off the floor, giving Angie a rather nice glimpse of what was very nearly her backside.  “Sorry, by the way,” Peggy said, motioning to herself.  “I got a late start today.”
All Angie could do without embarrassing herself was wave Peggy off, though her mouth seemed to have other ideas.  “You look hot enough to be a pin-up, Peg.”  The flash of white teeth and sparkling eyes that earned her more than made up for any mortification she felt.  “But…You’re not mad are you?  Or embarrassed?”
“Of course not.  War and all that…it sort of knocks the modesty right out of you.”  She moved to the bed to collect a neatly folded pile of clothes and a fresh towel.  “Besides, it’s not as if I have anything you haven’t got yourself.”
“I can think of a couple things you’ve got that I never will,” Angie stated, looking pointedly at Peggy’s generous bust.  The moment it was out of her mouth, she wished she could just shut up!
Peggy only smirked at the comment and made her way to the bathroom.  “Of course.  How silly of me,” she teased before clicking the door shut behind her.
