#I just feel nervous talking abt them bc I interpret them SO differently than I see most do

[electricfied-wolf]

I think what has always bugged me deep down abt Electra and Greaseball as a ship is that when people put them together romantically they more often than not play up GB's masculinity and then play up Electra’s femininity. Now ofc Electra can be feminine and should be portrayed so at times seeing as he is genderfluid, but when ppl pair him with Greaseball who is already a very stereotypically masculine character, they tend to usually play more into Electra’s feminine traits in a way that it doesn't feel like genuine portrayal.

Now I'm going to say this loud and clear b4 i continue.

THIS IS NOT A POST DIRECTED TOWARDS ONE SPECIFIC PERSON. THIS IS A GENERAL OBSERVATION.

Anyway, it just gets me mainly bc Greaseball is so often portrayed in fanworks with an even more watered down personality than he has in canon, and it's already a basic enough personality in canon. And Electra 100% can and should be able to be a women, like I said that's not the problem. The problem is that it feels at times like they're being watered down to a basic m/f enemies to lovers when they realistically have a lot more depth to them. They fucking hate each other in the show but you can DO something with that. You can draw so much angsty slow burn from that.

Basically ig my point is greased lightning has so much potential I just feel like it hasn't really been channeled correctly. And once again THIS ISN'T AN ATTACK ON ANYONE. This is just my personal thoughts and feelings.

[yostresswritinggirl]

hi! ik sojourner's already ended but i have an(other?) idea in case u ever pick it up since i love ur albedo 😳😳 ok so

what abt a reader who is rlly excited abt alchemy, but they avoid talking abt it bc they start rambling and stuttering and stumbling over their words bc they're so excited? they get assigned/asked to go w/ albedo bc they're rlly good at alchemy too, but they end up fidgeting a lot, muttering and stopping just a few words in before their volume rises and giving short answers when w/ him bc they're afraid of rambling (since they do it to think better when alone, sometimes insulting and arguing w the objects when they don't get the expected result) & being seen as annoying or unprofessional?? i'd like to see how he reacts to these and what he'd think!! and how or when he discovers the reason reader is acting like that

it's kinda (a lot, rlly skowkskdk i always have ideas but never write them) specific, but i rlly like the idea!! i'd love to see what u do w/ it if u ever pick it up in the future :D hope you're staying hydrated and well🥺🥰 -🌌

What do you mean Sojourner's already ended, Sojourner is eternal, Sojourner is forever-

Kidding aside, this is too cute to pass up, even if it's quite a lot! Cute Albedo brainrot moments always please. It might be too much sometimes but I hope you enjoy my interpretation of it! Scenarios format! Starry night, oh I'm always hydrated, thank you and I hope you're well!

For the Record

Albedo working with a Reader that's highly enthusiastic about alchemy but insecure about rambling... (masterlist)

You dealt with Alchemy a year before the Kreideprinz entered Mondstadt, your attunement to the mystic arts baffling and intriguing you every time. During that period, you're not really sure of what art you're doing but in the end, you kept doing great that the people had acknowledged your talents.

Through your own effort and self-study even if unnamed, you managed to put your talent into this art of Alchemy and created discoveries regarding powders and mineral-focused ingredients. It was a shame there was no one to share it to, and when you talk to scholars/practitioners alike, you end up rambling so much to the point that on their end you barely make sense. Whether this was caused by your eaten words or lax and personalized vocabulary over the matter, you're not sure.

Their confused and judgmental stare haunts you, leaving you alone with your raging thoughts and overworking mind when you just want to learn and expand your discoveries to other people without driving them away. Your enthusiasm is great and all, but it's not enough to make others understand.

So when the Chalk Prince entered Mondstadt, blessing the city with his scholarly knowledge and boundless creations, he easily made a name for himself and in extension the city itself.

Before Sucrose and Timaeus, you were called upon by the Grand Master Varka to accompany Albedo and be his temporary assistant seeing as his field in the division is still quite new and you were the only other 'Alchemist' in town besides him. You're both giddy and nervous, like really, really nervous.

You've heard of Albedo and maybe a caught a glimpse or two, but you've never actually interacted enough to know exactly what he looks like or how he is as a person. All you know is that he's a very, very attractive person overall.

"Good-looking, carries this aura of wisdom around him, he's just really charming," were the words that rang through your mind as you pointedly watched your steps, following the carpets leading to Ordo Favonius' laboratory while Lisa's words rang through your head.

Is he really that kind of person? You've heard that he's quite stoic too, but if he's really that distracting, you're scared that it would be harder for you to focus and help out. Honestly how would you even deal with him when your fields of Alchemy are so different from each other?

You have no idea how long you've been thinking, standing in contemplation in front of the set of double doors that leads to the workshop with nothing but doubt in your mind. But upon realizing the teal gaze of another person silently waiting instead of wooden doors, you figured it was far too long.

"Ah, I'm sorry! I was in my head, I wasn't expecting you to-!" You flailed your hands around comically before abruptly stopping, noticing the now confused stare of Albedo of which are distracted by your hands. Clearing your throat, you extended a hand towards him to shake, trying to stare anywhere but his face. "I'm (Y/N), I'll be your assistant until you're well settled in the city. It's nice to meet you, Ma-"

His hand finds yours in a firm grip, a firm shake so sudden you bit your tongue back, "Albedo, Kreideprinz of the Art of Kemia, but just Albedo is fine, I'll be under your care."

Albedo finds it intriguing and surprisingly not that distracting whenever you talk to yourself or to the ingredients whenever you so much as feel the slightest frustration. "Ugh, this Zinc powder is so stubborn, clingy," you angrily mumbled under your breath as you washed off the blue powder that spilled at your hand, "So, so clingy." Since you're facing the sink, you couldn't see the way he was holding himself from laughing audibly at your amusing antics.

You seemed lively and open, is what Albedo thought when he first met you. But this observation soon shattered when he kept getting hanged upon your abrupt stops when delving into your field, something he was really irked about the first few times. Your art of Alchemy is much different from his and he's wishing that you'd clarify and expound all your learnings to him, but in the end, you somehow step back everytime your words became lengthy.

Are you hiding something? Did you not want him to learn the same arts as yours? If those were the case, he couldn't bring himself to ask a simple question such ad why. Every time it crosses his mind, it brings a purse of a pout to his lips and furrowed eyebrows.

Every response you gave always hints even tiny bits of trivias and tips he's never heard, Albedo always takes note of your spills that always cuts before reaching its climax. "-sorry, yes, this is activated charcoal Geo and Pyro slimes reaction." He lets out an audible sigh upon your retreat, your frustrated mind too occupied to notice.

"Please," his desperation drips in his word when he looks at you with eyes filled with raw emotion you'd never know he'd be able to pull off. Your tightly locked lips only pressed on further at his puppy eyes, "Please continue, I wish to know more about your Alchemy, if you would be so kind."

"It's not really- I'm not really the best at explaining it..." You're almost fidgeting, cheeks aching from tensing and warmth. But he regarded you with a blank stare, forcing you to fill the silence, "If I- If I start, my ramblings may not uhm they're not easy to comprehend... or something."

Albedo had been watching more than he'd like to admit, and he's come to relieved (yet still confused) realization that your treatment with him wasn't his alone. You always step back before things get lengthy, words then cutting short and concise with a steeled expression. Lips caught between teeth.

"I digress," his hand motions to yourself to emphasize his next clause. "As your field and sole practitioner of this art, like my own condition, your word of mouth is the best ground of knowledge."

If he was irritated, he's doing a very good job in hiding it. And even with the respectable yet close distance in between you still felt cornered. This is still your master and it's not professional to refuse a scholarly talk, "The electro crystals when charged... ionized? create sparks, while also producing the same result when smacking- mining!"

The scribbles of his pen against his clipboard as he nods in attention urges you on, realizing his focus and sincere interest on the topic, "So when you put the little tidbits or even powdered version in a beaker thingy, depending on the material, they interact with the spark. Honestly, I'm unsure yet how lethal it is but if you put the sparks under fire too, they make like those makeshift gunpowder as well as additional reactions such as-!"

The lilt and proceeding high pitch in your voice usually signifies the approach of your insecurity as well as the climax of your enthusiasm. At this point, you pull your hand up to shut your mouth forcefully, and when Albedo really detests the abrupt end of the conversation his hand would shoot forward to grasp your own.

He'd intertwine your fingers to distract, before urging you to continue with a challenging stare, as if daring you to use your other hand to pull that off again. This whole scene felt oddly scandalous, but oh boy does it send your mind into a bambling, overloaded mess. A heated head forces your lips open even if they sometimes come out in a jumbled string, he learns to decipher them.

The more you get used to or feel more comfortable, Albedo uses that fondness skillfully whenever he wants. "Can you tell me more about the scarlet chunks from Dragonspine?" He throws it so casually in the silence as you two work back to back in your stations, without a beat as your mind is partially preoccupied, you answered into a narrative of trivia. It almost feels like you're talking to the flames of the bunsen while you wait, but Albedo smiles at the now filled silence as he listens with divided attention.

He really likes your voice, and the word of wonders you bring along with you.

"For the record, I don't mind it at all," his breath hovers on your lips, cold and prickly, "Whatever comes out of these lips, I want to hear it all."

That last part eheh

Woah, this went long. Like reader babbling hahaha. I said I'm gonna speedrun, not freaking write this long smh

@zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop @tartuu @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @albaedhoe @xiaophilia @heisenwurst @childe-simp-exe

[fukurodaze]

haikyuu!! third gym squad taking the ib diploma programme

ok... my friend and i got rlly stressed the other day and made headcanons for these guys if they were to take classes in the ib... it’s like a levels but like... a bit more death!

for my ib diploma folks you can just hop on over and read what i’ve hc’d but for my non-ib folks, lemme give you a bit of an introduction to the ib diploma programme.

characters included: bokuto koutarou, kuroo tetsurou, akaashi keiji, tsukishima kei, haiba lev, hinata shouyou

THE IB DIPLOMA PROGRAMME is a rigorous two-year pre-college program in your last two years of high school. a full programme consists of one class from each of the six required groups (totalling to 6 classes), which are G1 - first language; G2 - second language; G3 - social sciences; G4 - natural sciences; G5 - mathematics; and G6 - arts (though, arts is optional, and can be switched out with another subject from G3 or G4).

within these six courses, students are required to take at least three high-level (HL) courses and three standard level courses (SL), but some students may take four HL courses and have two SL courses (kind of a rough one tho). 

just to note: there’s two types of math courses - applications and interpretations (Math AI) and analysis and approaches (Math AA). MAA courses are known to be harder than MAI courses because students do more theory work and have non-calculator sections in exams, unlike MAI courses where calculators are required for every exam. also, it is possible for a person to take IB courses instead of the full diploma programme, but i’m not very well acquainted with that variation of the IB programme so we’re just going to assume all the boys got 6 courses.

okay. i am so sorry i just lectured you on a whole school curriculum. anyways. back to haikyuu!!

BOKUTO KOUTAROU : Japanese Language and Literature HL, Mandarin Ab Initio SL, Geography HL, SEHS (Sports, Exercise, and Health Science) HL, Math AI SL, Economics SL

ok so it’s canon that this dude is not doing very well in math but his parents made him do higher level math at first poor boy >:(

he started the year off in higher level and thought he was gonna be fine

no. he was not fine.

so he ended up switching his math hl to sl and his japanese sl to hl

IT IS CANON (special chapter in volume 19 titled “i just forgot” where bokuto has a wholeass crisis about words) that bokuto’s really one to actually really like to think about how words work and function as systems in the same way ib language courses do!!

actually having him do japanese ll hl is just an excuse for me to keep him in math sl sorry

i mean koutarou may be my fav tax evader but he really did sit through two years worth of econ classes... smh

mans is Not listening and has to rely on yukie for notes but he just memorises case studies for exams and does not do anything else

i feel like he just takes mandarin because he thought it was the easiest one... he also thinks the words sound similar so it’s easy to memorise

he’s a pretty good communicator so he practices his mandarin quite a lot. as in, he’s made friends to talk to in mandarin. we love to see it!!!

also. um. i hc that he’s pretty decent at memorisation so geography!! this goes for memorising all the kanji and mandarin characters too

i think SEHS is pretty self-explanatory. mans already known he wanna be a pro athlete might as learn about being healthy as an athlete

KUROO TESTUROU : Japanese Language and Literature SL, English B SL, Business Management HL, Chemistry HL, Math AI HL, Biology HL

now... we all know this mf been taking chemistry hl. it is CANON

and as per his career path... DEFINITELY business management hl

i feel like he’s so analytical in the way he sees things that he likes to explore many areas of knowledge where there are different ways of thinking

takes english as a second language because... whew.. aint it sexy when mans wanna be multifaceted in business

also takes higher level biology because he’d rather not with the languages... but later on i believe he ends up in a higher level language class because he might as well

i feel like kuroo’s classes just give me a vibe i know too too well... 

mans takes math ai. he does not wanna fuck around with a pencil proving a theorem he just wants the answer bro

like in volleyball, he’s a quick thinker. so he’s pretty g with math and business stuff

i literally know someone with this class combo ... it’s not very chill but it screams “you never see me do any course work but i always get at least a B+ in every subject”

AKAASHI KEIJI :  Japanese Language and Literature HL, French Ab Initio SL, Psychology HL, Chemistry SL, Math AA SL, Visual Arts HL

now... this subject combo radiates such pretty energy

pretty subjects for a pretty boy

he was originally going to do biology sl but then found out there is chemistry in biology so he just decided with chemistry. plain and simple.

we all know akaashi is both emotionally and academically intelligent

he’s logical and analytical, and when faced with a tough time he works through it well albeit going through a little bit of struggle

this automatically puts him in math aa... i just see him actually liking proving theorems??? 

but maybe he just thinks his calculator is a nuisance sometimes and would rather solve everything by hand 

also art boy! this dude likes graphic design more but when it comes to traditional art he does Not Hold Back

i like to think that he’s into painting backgrounds and mixed media

if he didn’t take VA, i’m pretty sure he would take economics. because. it’s quite systematic and i think akaashi would take a liking to it

as for japanese ll hl... we all know this dude was supposed to be a part of the literary section in a magazine/manga company but was moved to editor

goes hand-in-hand with psychology, likes to know how words convey meaning and how they affect people

he also thinks french is kind of a cool language. i feel like this guy just wants to do it because it sounds cool and novel for him

all in all, pretty solid subject combo!

TSUKISHIMA KEI : Japanese Language and Literature HL, French Ab Initio SL, History HL, Biology SL, Math AA HL, Instrumental Music HL

4 hl’s... here we are folks

honestly does it for colleges to go like “holy shit this dude is kinda crazy”

but does suffer... coursework tings :)

first of all this dude takes french (even though it’s a beginner’s class) because he just loves to sound cool huh

the summer before his courses started he would have had the basics down after looking through free ib textbooks

plus, being the guy that’s super good at a new language in the class is a huge ass flex and a big ass ego boost. and anyways, with language, he thinks it’s just a lot of simple patterns working together.

this also applies to japanese ll hl... finds writing essays and making arguments ez (at least that’s what he tells himself - he’s kinda nervous when it comes to japanese but he holds on anyway)

practices extra hard on pronunciation. sounds hot tho

math aa hl??? there we go. another crazy one. thought he could ace the class at first.... no. no he couldn’t 

thinks about moving down to sl. probably does. (at least it’s not math ai)

history and biology go hand in hand for him. he has significant interests in prehistoric times, and likes to learn about the origins of life - that’s a given

but he does get tired of the politics talk in history like... goddamn all these people making so many mistakes? just stop making them smh

and instrumental music was just something he got onto because he really would like to just have a course where he could enjoy himself while also learning about the stuff he likes

nobody knows what music he listens to... but i think he’s willing to listen to anything as long as it’s music and it has the kinds of vibes he digs

HAIBA LEV: Japanese Language and Literature SL, Mandarin Ab Initio SL, Psychology HL, Chemistry SL, Math AI HL, Theatre HL

i don’t know how to explain it but lev has such strong psych and chem energy

yes haiba lev’s classes are the ones i picked via roulette wheel

jk not really

here’s the thing though, lev takes psychology because he thinks econ, business management, history, ess, all that jazz is just... absolutely boring. like. super. mf-ing. boring.

so he’s like ooh cognitive processes!

kinda hates that he has to study research methods and research methods ONLY at first but when he gets the hang of it he really finds it one of his fav subs

i actually have no explanation for mandarin ab initio sl... he just seemed like the kind of guy who would wanna do the class solely because he thinks mandarin sounds cool with their intonations and everything

plus he heard that the teacher gives mooncakes every lunar new year ad he. loves. them.

okay now hear me out.

lev is good at math.

maybe not lightning speed analysis or calculations like akaashi, but he finds solving problems fun! except for when they’re without a calculator bc he HATES doing calculations by hand

he can get a bit clumsy with his hand calculations too so it’s nice to just have a calculator on hand

literally only does math ai for the sake of using a calculator at all times (a/n: i take this class, and this was the reason i took it too. COMPLETELY VALID)

and then does theatre for the fun of it!!! confidence levels high for presentations and performances... good fit

kinda thought that ib theatre would be his easy A but oh how he was wrong... hates the research tasks at first but he gets used to it

HINATA SHOUYOU: Japanese Language and Literature SL, Portuguese Ab Initio SL, SEHS HL, Geography HL, Math AI SL, Theatre HL

his classes are bokuto energy but with theatre and portuguese

MANGA SPOILERS! we all know he started thinking abt going to brazil in his second year of high school, and the ib diploma programme starts in the last two years of high school so it fits PERFECTLY

lowkey most of the boys take japanese ll sl because they just. have to.

this is also hinata’s case <3

SEHS HL!!! he has a vision for the future and it definitely involves him understanding health and sports and everything like that, especially after nationals in his first year :(((( still sad abt that

but he’s motivated for this higher level class because he’s really just gonna go all out with the research

math ai sl because... he prolly don’t give a fuck about numbers!!! (it hasn’t been made clear already, but math ai sl is the lowest level math course)

he also took theatre hl because even though he does get scared at first, he’s a natural when it comes to learning new cultures

he’s just so curious about it all and it makes him quite engaged in the class as well!!!!

also kinda took theatre because the other subjects were just not it for him

about geography... he hates memorisation but he also hates everything else in the social studies group so

he just gets by by trying to find the little details of the things he’s studying interesting because really... geography class is just the base of all the places on his bucket list

hinata’s def one of those dudes who picks his subs purely off of liking because we all know he’s going. any subject that isn’t based off of liking is usually a mandatory subject anyways

[parkjmini]

Outlier | the end

poly!au: park jimin x reader x kim jennie while your lovers said they needed you, you wondered if they knew how much you needed them. word count: 3988 genre: angst warnings: explicit language

[an]: nothing is medically accurate lmao im so sorry i researched like 70 percent and then i implied everything else so dont trust me idk what im talking abt. but a BIG thank you to everyone who sent me so so so much support and feedback for this entire series bc i wouldn’t have had the motivation to finish. getting those messages after posting a chapter made me giddy for my own story and i know what happens. I truly love interacting with my readers and going into plot/character analysis, i just love hearing everyone’s thoughts and thinking processes bc we all interpret things differently, again, thank you everyone who enjoyed reading this story (: 

prologue . 01 . 02 . 03 . 04 . 05 . 06 . 07 . 08 . the end 

After confirmation of the surgery, it became prepping sessions. Your doctor slowly took you off the chemo and gave you medication to ease any discomfort. You were given less visiting hours because you needed to rest. 

But your troubles stirred when you were alone. The moment replayed in your mind when Jennie told you that they were broken up. There was nothing you could say, nothing for you to fix. Jennie and Jimin were respectfully dating you, aware of your decision for still wanting to be with the both of them. It didn’t feel the same though, it didn’t feel secure or safe.

There was no way you could date them separately. Jimin lacked what Jennie brought to the relationship and vise versa. It wasn’t complete without the both of them. Your nurses didn’t let you worry about that, brushing away Jimin and Jennie during your resting hours. 

Jungkook visited you once after you added him back onto your list. He also brought you a vase of your favorite flowers. There was part of you where you didn’t want to make things awkward, but the other part didn’t allow for that. Instead, you blurted out that you knew about his crush on you. Then, he left quickly after you rejected his offer to be with him.

Hoseok respected your time and didn’t visit when he wasn’t allowed to. You were aware of how he had other important events in his life, but you really wished he tried to see you more. You’d hate to admit it, but Hoseok seemed to be the only person you could turn to for any non-biased advice. Since he stopped coming around often, you had to turn to your nurses.

The two weeks were absolutely the dullest moment in your life. You thought that living in your small town with your mom was bad, this was worse. You were stuck in a huge hospital with no friends majority of your stay. Your nurses were only with you for max ten minutes before they needed to go. You had the television, sleep, and your own nervousness.

Surgery was a big decision, so big that you even called your mom about it. You didn’t have the best relationship with your mom, so calling her was a surprise to even her. She totally didn’t bother to follow up on your life, so she never called first. But, you couldn’t go into surgery with the possibility of death and not tell her about it.

She offered to fly over and you insisted that she didn’t. So when she arrived to see you, you didn’t hesitate to give her a piece of your mind.

“What are you doing here? I told you that you didn’t need to come. Where did you find which hospital I was staying at?” You groaned into your pillow.

Your mom set her things down and crossed her legs while she took a seat across from you. “I asked the school. I’m your mother, for fucks sakes.” 

“Yeah, well you didn’t think that when I was growing up, so now that I’m dying, you decide you should start caring.” You rolled your eyes at her gasp.

“How dare you say that to me? I raised you when your dad walked out on us.”

“If you think being drunk and picking me up from my after school programs means raising me, then yeah. You did great mom.” Your sarcasm came out in train wrecks when it came to your mom; she drew the worse out of you.

“(Y/N), you have cancer and you decide to let me know when you’ve already decided for surgery is not exactly the most responsible daughter thing you pride yourself to be.” She shot back.

Your nurse came in to cue that she only had 15 minutes left before she needed to leave. “It honestly didn’t cross my mind that I needed to tell you since you’ve never cared enough to call me these past years except to invite me to your stupid wedding. Might I also add that you didn’t tell me about until the day before, so that makes two of us.”

“I didn’t raise you for you to treat me like this.”

“You didn’t raise me at all, what are you saying? But how about we talk about something else, since that’s all we ever talk about. News flash, mom, I have fucking pancreatic cancer and I’m going into surgery tomorrow. I’ve been going to chemo these past three months and I have almost to no hair. My body is bruised from being poked by needles. I am dying! Thanks for even having the audacity to come see me before my maybe death tomorrow. Don’t let the door hit you in the face.” You shouted as loud as your lungs let you go.

Your door opened and you both stopped your argument to see Jennie and Jimin standing under the frame. They looked stunned and confused to see the lady who you resembled. “Did we come at a bad time?” Jimin asked.

“No, since this is your visiting time.” You crossed your arms, glaring at your mom.

“Who are you two?” She asked, rudely.

“Mom, that’s my boyfriend, Jimin and that’s my girlfriend, Jennie. Welcome to the modern society of polyamorous relationships where I love two people at once.” Jennie and Jimin have never heard such sarcasm run out of your mouth. You were always just subtle, but this side of you was new.

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Jennie stepped forward and your mom got up.

“Well, I can see that you have a whole double life I know nothing about. I guess you don’t need me anymore. Good luck on your surgery and whatever you call a relationship.” She grabbed her things and walked past Jennie and Jimin.

“She was pleasant.” Jimin said sarcastically and you rolled over on your side.

“This is why I never brought you home with me for the holidays.”  Jennie hurried to cuddle up to your side. 

“At least we avoided an awkward argument over Christmas dinner.” She chuckled and kissed your ear.

Jimin sat on your opposite side. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” 

Sitting up in Jennie’s arms, you buried your face in your hands. “No. I’m so scared.” 

“You’re going to be fine. Jennie, Hoseok and I are going to be right outside of your door. We’re going to be with you when you’re recovering. We’re with you every step of the way, we already packed our go-bags.” Jimin tried to comfort you, but you sobbed into your hands. You couldn’t help but cry so much nowadays. Staying strong was hard when you were so vulnerable. 

“And if something happens? Will you be there with me?” It was a rhetorical question that caused them to both fall silent.

“Nothing will happen. They’re highly trained professionals and I made sure you had the best surgeon in this hospital.” Jennie bragged proudly and Jimin laughed.

“Yeah, seeing her demand it was very terrifying. But, she did it. You’re in good hands, baby.” Jimin smiled and kissed the top of your head.

“Can you two just lay with me for the last couple of minutes before my nurse comes and kicks you out?” You sniffed and moved over for Jimin to join the sandwich fest.

“(Y/N), I love you so much.” Jennie and Jimin said in unison, and the unsettling feeling set back into your system.

A group of nurses and surgeons rolled you into a double door room. It was dim, except for the big spotlight that shined above you. Squinting, you saw the surgical masks that blinked back at you.

“Ready?” Your doctor was smiling behind her mask.

“No.” Your voice trembled from your nerves; your palms slick with sweat. “I want to be okay.”

“And you will be, (Y/N). We’re going to start with the anesthetics and we’ll get everything going. Relax, I’m right here.” She held onto your shaking hand and you stared back up at the bright light.

You felt the drugs enter your system, slowly stripping away your consciousness. You’ve already cried out all night your worries and said a few important goodbyes before the day arrived. The jittery feeling caused your body to shake uncontrollably and you were so terrified. This could mean recovery or death.

And while you hoped for survival, you knew the chances were split between the two options. Death was unavoidable, but to die so early shook your bones. Your dreams have just been memories of past events in your life, reminding you of the life you lived. The life you might soon leave. It was harder to ignore death than it was to wish for recovery.

Once your eyelids fell over your eyes, you’ve never felt more alone in your entire life.

“Would you stop pacing? You’ve been walking back and forth for the past two hours.” Jennie complained.

Jimin stopped in his tracks and narrowed his eyes at her, “I’m nervous.” 

“What happened to ‘it’s going to be fine�� and ‘you don’t need to worry’?” Jennie laughed and Jimin rolled his eyes.

“I can’t help that my body reacts the way it does when I’m the slightest worried. How are you so calm about this? They’re literally cutting her open in that room.” Jimin gestured to the closed doors.

“By not thinking about it like that. I’m thinking about the lovely time I get to spend with my girlfriend when she’s done.” Jennie muttered.

Jimin walked up to her and pointed to his chest, “you mean my girlfriend?”

Hoseok pushed the two apart. “She’s both of your’s. Are you two done making a scene in a hospital?” 

Jimin went over to sit next to Hoseok’s other side, making him stuck in the middle of a not-so-friendly feud. Even though they showed up together for visits, they were incredibly hostile to one another when they were alone. 

They slept in separate beds, Jimin taking over your room and Jennie in her’s. They ate dinner with their own friends and didn’t bother to tell each other about their whereabouts. They mostly spoke to each other in scoffs or groans.

Suddenly, the hallway doors were slammed open and nurses were rushing in a big machine --- a defibrillator.

The three of them stood up, seeing how rushed and hurried the nurses looked. The surgery door opened and a surgeon walked out with sweat dripping down the side of his head. The sound of a flat line heartbeat caught the attention of Jennie.

“Her heart isn’t beating, is it?” She was afraid to hear the answer to her question, her chest rising and falling violently.

Your doctor held the door open for the other nurses and defibrillator. “Her pulse went out, but we’re doing our best. But prepare for the worse.” 

Jennie collapsed onto the floor, bawling. “Holy fuck, we’re going to lose her!” She shouted with heavy tears running down her face. It was like her words pulled Jennie’s heart down to the pit of her stomach. Her whole mind and body were shutting down at the news.

“You have to stay calm, Jen.. we’re in a hospital.” Jimin tried to get her up, but she kept slipping his grasp.

“I don’t care! That’s our girl in there and her heart isn’t beating!” She exclaimed and Hoseok helped with holding her up.

Jimin’s head was in shambles, utterly speechless at what was happening. Hoseok was numb to the news, unaware to how to react. They wanted to stay optimistic, that the defibrillator will work. It had to work. 

“Why don’t you two go outside and get some air? I’ll stay here for any further news. Please... it’s not a suggestion. Go.” Hoseok needed to clear them out before they both stressed him out more than he already was.

Jimin walked Jennie outside. The light breeze clearing their heavy, crazy minds. Jennie was choked up by her tears, constantly wiping at her wet cheeks. Jimin stared at the ground, listening to her sorrows. His heart too heavy to express.

“Aft-er -- everything.. --Jimin --- I’m.. really, truly sorry...--” Jennie had trouble speaking with the endless waterfalls from her eyes.

“--Jen..” Jimin barely got out.

“No.. listen to me first. I’ve felt really guilty about all the rumors. We should’ve never gotten together in the first place, especially with someone like me. I’m known as the campus hoe, right? I can’t hold onto a stable relationship even if I wanted to and now my --- girlfriend --- is-- she’s -- dying.” Jennie cried harder, holding her face in her hands as she slid against the wall and onto the ground.

“I didn’t do anything with Jisoo ever. I don’t know how many more times I need to tell you, but I would never hurt you or (Y/N) like that, especially coming from a place where that has happened to me multiple times. Maybe you’ve always secretly doubted our relationship, considering how we got together through an accidental one night stand.” 

“Through our three months together, I fell head over heels for you, Jimin. I’ll admit it. I liked (Y/N) first, but you had a piece of me I didn’t think I could give to anyone after Taehyung. You’re so open, so understanding, so kind. I’ve never fully gotten the chance to explain myself because you keep shutting me down and every time, I believed that my explanation doesn’t matter. I’ve been devalued my entire life by my partners and sadly, I made myself feel that way with you when you ignored my pleads. But I think now is the best opportunity to tell you because we honestly don’t have anyone else who understands us the way we do. We’re both suffering because our girlfriend is in there not breathing. Our girlfriend, Jimin. I love you and through everything, you’re the one of the only people in this world who knows my struggles.” Jennie held him by the shoulders, so he could look her in the eyes as she gripped onto the only hope left in her life.

Jimin invited her into his arms, holding her tight. He had forgotten why he was upset before. He just wanted to be with his girls. He wished, hoped, prayed that things were back to how they were before the misfortune. 

“I’m sorry for making you feel invalid. I’m sorry for hurting you the way I did.” He admitted and Jennie sobbed harder into his chest.

“It’s okay... -- we’ll --- be...”

“--- Okay?” Jimin finished off and she nodded. 

You couldn’t breathe or move. Your lungs collapsed into your chest and you struggled to supply oxygen to your body. You screamed, but no noise came out and your arms were glued to your side. It was like you were trapped in a motionless body.

Everything was turning fuzzy and a white light blurred your vision. This was it. You were dying. You weren’t sure what realization hit you. Maybe it was the lost of breath and your heart rate slowly declining. Maybe it was the blinding light that caught your attention ahead.

Your memories started flashing before you. Jennie and Jimin flooding your mind. Your eyes scanned for anyone else, but them. However, you were left with scenes of your once perfect relationship.

Your first date night. It was the day you officially joined your partners. Jennie hurried you down to meet Jimin. He was cleaned up nicely, standing all cool against his sleek car. He peered up to see Jennie with the biggest smile on her small face, hand holding yours. 

She told Jimin the news and he was overjoyed, ready to hold you in his arms. He rushed you into the car and it didn’t feel much different than it was when all three of you hung out. The only difference was that you’ve never been more intimate with your best friends. 

Your first kiss. You anxiously sat next to Jimin on the couch during a lazy movie fest you were having with them. He had his arm wrapped around you, twirling the ends of your fingers with his. Your heart beating so fast, being not use to the touching from either of them.

He picked up your chin, knowing that you were distracted. It was an instant spark once your eyes connected and soon, your lips did as well.

Your first ‘I love you’. This moment was one of your favorites. It was Jennie’s birthday and you three were excited for the day ahead. However, a huge storm was rolling in and you were almost home. Jimin insisted in stopping to buy more snacks before rushing back. 

Once you all stepped out from the convenience store, it was showering, pouring heavy amounts of rain. Jennie, you and Jimin were drenched within seconds of going outside. Your plastic bags filled up an inch with collected water. Jimin’s leather seats in his car pooled with rain. All three of you laughed with glee as you marveled the escape from the wet mess.

And you suddenly stopped to admire the way Jimin’s eyes disappeared cutely and how Jennie’s nose scrunched up, her adorable snort catching your attention. In the midst of their happiness, you blurted out, “I love you two.”

The news of your mother’s wedding. An invitation was addressed to you. It had pretty cursive handwriting and a beautiful design. It was a wedding for your mom and her boyfriend, inviting you to join them for an evening of unity. You weren’t aware of them even being engaged, let alone a marriage. 

Jennie and Jimin never mentioned your mom, knowing you didn’t like pressing on too much about her. Their initial reaction was for you to go, until you explained that you didn’t even know she was getting married. You had crumpled up the invitation and threw it away in the trash.

Jennie consoled you, reassuring you that it was perfectly fine that you don’t attend. While you sulked in the living room, they approached you with the idea of still giving your mom a gift to congratulate her. It showed that you were the bigger person and that you acknowledge her efforts. They made you a better you.

Throughout every flashback, and every memory, your heart was searching for something beyond them, an image that wasn’t them. You laid there, dying, and all you saw was your girlfriend and your boyfriend. There had to be more than that and your heart was looking, waiting, for any other memories to surface. 

But nothing. It was only them and you couldn’t help, but feel a little disappointed. For the last few years of your life, you’ve revolved your entire world around these two people. You’re alone, not because you’re not social, but because you chose to focus all of your efforts into your relationship. And as you slowly lost sense of your consciousness, you became regretful about how you lived.

You heard distant voices, “1, 2, 3!” and you slowly opened your eyes. There was a rush of air that filled your lungs. Your vision adjusted to the bright spotlight and the many surgical masks above you. 

“She’s awake! We got her pulse!” They cheered and one of the nurses pulled down his mask.

“You’re going to be okay, Ms. (Y/N). The surgery was a success.” He smiled and you nodded, reaching for his hand to hold to make sure it was your reality. 

“We’re going to move you to your recovery room now, but you did really well.” The young nurse cheered with so much excitement, there were tears in his eyes. He was a complete stranger that just saved your life, yet he was even crying for you.

“T-Than-k yo-u.” You barely made out and he patted your shoulder. You shut your eyes again and felt the bed move and the voice of Hoseok calling after you as natural light hit your eyelids.

Several hours after the surgery and going over the post-surgery care, you carefully sat up in bed. Hoseok had to leave, but the two stayed. Jennie held onto you tighly, and Jimin blinked at you with stars in his eyes. But the thought you had while you were close to death never left your mind. 

“There is something I need to talk to you about.” You began, and Jimin and Jennie shared glances. “There was a lot to think about when I went under, my heart stopped for a few minutes and I was so close to my death. All I saw were our memories. I saw you two, but... something inside of me longed for something else, something more.” 

“If it’s not the three of us, then I don’t want to be in an individual relationship with either of you. That would mean making me choose and I don’t love one more than the other. It’s either both of you or neither. I will always love you two with all that my heart has to offer, but my life is so valuable and I need someone who is going to recognize that. I realized that the best for us is that there simply is no us. I love you both so much, I really do, but right now is not the right time. I’ll never forget us. ”

“Jennie, you were the first girl I love. Jimin, you were the first boy I love. But throughout it all, I won’t try to remember us. Maybe we’ll realize each other’s worth once we’re ready for it and we’ll be new people when we meet again.”

Jennie didn’t let go of your hand, instead, she nodded to every single word that you poured from your heart. “If that’s what you think is the best option for us, then I’ll accept your decision.” She agreed and no longer shed any more tears. She knew it was for the better, even if it did break her heart.

With a turn of events, Jimin was actually the one crying this time. Jimin’s tears spilled down his plump, supple cheeks. It was difficult for him to talk.. it was difficult for him to express how he felt in general. “I felt so regretful because I thought I was going to lose you forever when I was ready to trade my life for your’s. I’m just happy you’re alive and breathing. I respect your decision and I think that you’ll always know what’s best for us three.” 

Your heart was healing, bit by bit. The shock of almost death woke you up and you no longer wanted to be trapped in something that didn’t seem to work out well anymore. It was time for an end. It was time for change and you were more than thankful to have Jennie and Jimin, who loved you so much, they were willing to let you go and live life with no more regrets. 

Jennie smiled before gently kissing your hand, “I’m unsure how long me and Jimin would’ve lasted without you, but we were two people who fell out of love for each other, but back in love through you. I want you to know that even though you felt like you didn’t belong in our relationship, you were actually the connection between us. You were the reason there was an us.”

It was an epiphany ---- you were not the outlier in the relationship. You were the core center. Jennie and Jimin were more than thankful to have you in their lives, who loved them so much, that you were willing to look past their differences and to fight through every trial. 

“You were the reason there was an us.” That single line replayed in your thoughts, in a constant loop. And you smiled at Jimin and Jennie, the monitor beeping being the only noise in the room.

“I love you both, don’t you ever forget that.” 

[caelystrae]

Don’t You Love Me Now?

wow this acct is back from the dead after a yr bc its @letanafuck week and i plan on... hopefully... writing some kinks that i wouldnt on my main (but still horny) acct

todays prompt was old/young which tbh ive written abt on multiple accts before (two ghosts on here and scars & shadow both on my main) but u know.  i gotta let ana fuck.  so heres more new Content ig

ao3

Pairing: Anamercy

Rating: M

Words: 3.5k+

When she looks down to meet Angela’s eyes, one leg moving to hook over her lover’s shoulder, she does so over the same body which survived the Omnic Crisis, which bore a child, which once was unmarked, unmarred, but thoroughly untested. Now, despite the shifting geography of her form, new marks and rolls appearing over time, she knows her body better than she did when she was younger, is far more at peace with who she is.

Or,

Angela may be getting older, but Ana realizes that she herself is just plain getting old, and isn't quite sure how to feel about it.

Aging was something that snuck up on Ana—a grey hair here, an age spot there, change so gradual that she did not notice it in herself, never taking the time to observe any one change in particular until, one day, she realized that she had come to look entirely different—and this does not bother her, particularly.  If she cared about any of it, she would have taken more note as it were happening, but it is one thing to recognize signs of aging in oneself, and quite another to see them in one’s lover, particularly when said lover is notably younger than oneself.

When Ana began to notice wrinkles around her own eyes, it did not bother her at all—if anything, she was pleasantly surprised to realize that, despite the Omnic Crisis, and all that followed, she had lived long enough to have any—but it does bother her, shortly upon being reunited, when she sees those same lines around Angela’s eyes.  Were anyone to ask her why, she could not say, because she does not find them unattractive, nor is it particularly surprising that Angela might have a laugh line or two at her age, but there is a nagging worry there, something she cannot quite put a name to which bothers her nonetheless.

That same feeling returns two weeks later, when, while Angela is looking for clothing for some event or another, Ana notices that one of her favorite dresses, memorable if only for how its bright color stands in contrast to the rest of her wardrobe, is conspicuously absent.  In response to Ana’s inquiring as to where it went, Angela just laughs, shrugging off the question by saying that in the past three years or so she went up a size or two, and that she does not mind it much, given her age, thinks it is only to be expected.  There is little reason to press the issue, particularly given that Ana quite likes Angela’s current weight, and does not want to give the impression that she feels otherwise, but still there is that something about the statement.

Another three weeks go by and Angela is frowning into the mirror at herself, fingers pushing her bangs out of the way so she can more carefully examine the roots of her hair.  While Ana cannot see precisely what her lover is doing, from her place outside the doorway of the bathroom, she has a fairly good idea.

“Staring won’t make the greys go away,” she says, and watches in some amusement as Angela drops her hands quickly, almost guiltily, turning at once to face her.  That amusement fades quickly when she sees the expression on Angela’s face, far from happy.

“Are they that obvious?” she sounds almost resigned as she says it, crossing an arm over herself in a way that Ana knows, by now, means she is nervous as well, “I hoped that maybe they wouldn’t be so obvious, in the blonde, but—”

“They’re not,” Ana reassures her, before she can continue the thought, “I wouldn’t have even brought it up if you didn’t seem so worried about it.”

“Ah,” says Angela, but it doesn’t seem to calm her any, for she bites her lip and turns her gaze away, towards the shower in the corner.  There is a considerable pause before she speaks again—they have known each other long enough, by now, that Ana knows when to push, and when to wait—but speak she does, “I don’t like it,” says she, “Feeling like I’m getting old.  Before you came back I was the oldest woman here, you know.”

Before speaking Ana shifts her weight, rests against the frame of the door, making sure that there is enough room that if Angela wanted to, she could push past, will not feel trapped during the ensuing conversation.  If her lover were to ask, that is her reasoning—not that she needed time to gather her thoughts, to choose carefully what to say next, although that is the truth.  It would be a lie, she knows, to say that Angela is not getting older, because certainly she is nearing middle age, and it would do neither of them any good to pretend otherwise, but that Angela is older than she once was does not make her old, particularly not in Ana’s eyes.  It clicks, then, what has been bothering her: for all that Angela is clearly older, she is still far younger than Ana herself; if Angela is old, what does that make Ana?

“You’re still younger than I was when we met,” says she, and it is true: eighteen years later, and Angela is still five years from the age Ana was then, even though just a few months under half of her life—and less than a third of Ana’s—has passed.

That does not seem to comfort Angela in the slightest, as she is still staring resolutely in the direction of the shower curtain when she speaks next.  “That doesn’t make me young,” she argues, and she is not wrong, necessarily, but certainly she cannot seem old to Ana, who only recently began to think of herself as being old.

“No,” agrees Ana, “It certainly doesn’t.”  Another pause between them, before Ana asks, carefully, “Is that such a bad thing, though?”

The hand Angela does not have pulled across herself now grips the sink so hard her already pale knuckles turn white, “You tell me.”

“I’m sure I can’t know what you mean,” Ana tells her, and tries not to sound too sharp, even if the comment immediately puts her on the defensive.  Outside of the subject of work, of their differing interpretation of what is right and what is wrong, the two of them rarely argue, but on the rare occasion that they do, neither is inclined to mince words.

“What are we doing here, Ana?  Sneaking around, never talking about our relationship in front of anyone, keeping everything a secret the way we always have,” she turns, suddenly, to look Ana in the eye, gaze sharp, “It made sense then—with how young I was, and you being so much older—but now?  I’m not young anymore, Ana.  Why are we still hiding, unless we don’t know what else to be?”

“Angela,” she begins more sharply than she wants to, pauses and takes a breath before continuing, “There was a rather stringent anti-fraternization policy then, if you’ve forgotten, and you haven’t made any mention of our relationship since my return, either.  I didn’t know it bothered you.”

Angela opens her mouth as if to object, but Ana is not done, has more to say about the matter, “And your age didn’t have anything to do with my attraction to you—if anything, I was worried I was too old for you.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Angela says, and if she were not so obviously angry it might sound like a plea, “You’ve been strangely quiet every time I’ve mentioned my age since you got back.  Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”  In her anger, she had straightened up, moved forwards, but now she shrinks into herself again, leans back against the sink when Ana, too surprised by the turn of conversation to argue, does not respond quickly enough, “You don’t have to stay, if you don’t find me attractive anymore.”  When she says this, her eyes flick over Ana’s shoulder in the direction of the door.

“I’m not lying,” Ana says, trying not to be annoyed by the accusation, or at least not to show annoyance.  “It’s just… become harder to ignore, recently, how very much older than you I am, and always have been.  If either of us is too old for the other, it isn’t you.”

Angela laughs, then, relaxing at last, and grins at Ana when she says, “I daresay that’s part of your appeal.”

Hearing that should not surprise Ana, really, not with how eager to please Angela has always been, the way she flushes when Ana calls her a good girl, the age of the various celebrities Angela has mentioned finding attractive before, but it does surprise Ana, nonetheless—perhaps because she always avoided thinking about how young Angela was, preferring to focus, instead, on all the ways in which they were equals.

She really does not know what to make of this.

(Whatever allusions Angela might have made in the past

“That’s… interesting,” is what she settles on, after a considerable pause.

“Does it bother you?” Angela asks her, and Ana is surprised to find that it does not.

“No,” says she, without hesitation, but then, “It’s probably something we should discuss, though.”

“Probably,” Angela agrees easily, and then, stepping forwards to close the gap between them, “Later, though.  For now,” she moves a hand upwards, cupping Ana’s jaw and leaning down just slightly so that they are level with one another, “I can show you just how much I appreciate your current age.”

Who is Ana to say no?

In the years prior to their separation, Angela was never interested in taking control, always content to allow Ana to initiate sex and decide the pace; in the ensuing years she has grown bolder, although she has never said why, and Ana has never asked.  Seven years ago, Ana would not have wanted this, to be lead backwards and then pushed down onto the bed, for she had so little control of the rapidly unravelling Overwatch that she felt she needed to take it where she could—but now, older still, and maybe even wiser, if she is lucky, it does not seem like such a bad thing to let Angela take control for a short while.

(There is also the fact that it is easier, these days, for her to not be the only active partner.  She can only kneel or thrust or do whatever else for so long before she grows sore, and needs to change positions, and Angela stepping up and being less passive is certainly beneficial for the both of them, in that regard.)

So she allows Angela to divest her of her clothing, even if she is moving not nearly so quickly as Ana knows she could, nimble surgeon’s fingers pretending to fumble with the fly of Ana’s trousers, and toying with the hem of her shirt.  Ana wants to complain, to urge Angela to just hurry up, to joke that she is not getting any younger, anything if it would make Angela move faster—but she does not know, yet, how far she can push when Angela takes charge, and rather wants to see how their evening will turn out.

Eventually, it seems Angela has had enough with her teasing, and finishes pulling Ana’s clothes from her, kneeling above her on the bed, a knee just outside either hip.  Ana shivers, from the cold and the scrutiny both.  It is one thing to know that she has aged, and to accept it, but quite another to have just discussed it, and to find oneself wholly bare before another person.  When Angela looks at her she will see scars she does not know the origin of, for they have not discussed them since Ana’s return, including a rather grotesque one along her side, a jagged, light depression against the surrounding tissue, will see breasts that never returned to their original firmness after breastfeeding, and have only grown saggier with age, will see an abdomen which was once well muscled and that now, while still strong, does not look so.

(Angela, too, has changed, has more moles in more places than she ever did when she and Ana were first together, and from this angle her weight gain is more visible—even if it is difficult to know which changes in her silhouette are attributable to HRT and which are aging—but Ana is not looking at those things, is watching Angela’s expression as her own body is scrutinized.)

“Beautiful,” she breathes, before bending down to kiss Ana’s neck, one hand moving to cup a breast, and when she says it like that, Ana can believe it.  She lingers, with each kiss, moving slowly downwards towards Ana’s breasts, murmuring gentle praises between each kiss, stunning, gorgeous, strong, and it may have been decades since last Ana last let sweet words sweep her off her feet, but the increase in her heartrate is not purely due to arousal.

Perfect, Angela tells her before wrapping her mouth around a nipple.  Normally, she would only tease at it, licking it and flicking at it with her tongue, but perhaps emboldened by their earlier conversation, and her admission, this time she sucks at it in earnest, and Ana threads one hand in her hair to encourage her to continue, the other reaching down between the both of them so that she can touch herself.

These days, it takes time for her to be wet enough for a partner to comfortably touch her, and any embarrassment she might once have felt when tending to her own needs during sex has long since faded—and it certainly does not hurt that she knows Angela finds it arousing, a fact which shows as Angela redoubles her efforts at Ana’s breasts.

For several minutes, they are in a holding pattern, nothing escalating between them, and pleasant as it is, Ana finds her patience is beginning to dwindle when suddenly the timing of a particularly hard suck from Angela and her own thumb pressing against her clit coincide, and her hips roll involuntarily, breath hitching in response.

That, finally, is enough to spur Angela into action again, and after a brief—but necessary—pause to fumble around in her bedside drawer in search of lube, continues moving down Ana’s body, lovely whispered into the large pockmark left by shrapnel just below her ribcage, wonderful as Angela’s lips find her cesarean scar, and mine as she moves her hand out of the way and Angela finally, finally reaches her labia.

When she looks down to meet Angela’s eyes, one leg moving to hook over her lover’s shoulder, she does so over the same body which survived the Omnic Crisis, which bore a child, which once was unmarked, unmarred, but thoroughly untested.  Now, despite the shifting geography of her form, new marks and rolls appearing over time, she knows her body better than she did when she was younger, is far more at peace with who she is.  It may be a surprise to look down and see Angela’s face amongst white pubic hair, but her heartbeat still picks up when Angela traces around her clit in little circles, and she still feels that familiar pull of arousal when she feels Angela’s free hand begins to creep up the inside of her thigh.

(There are, of course, some small concessions made for age—that Angela is careful not to move her hips beyond what is now their maximum comfortable flexibility being the most prominent adjustment.  And while once Angela might have dedicated a good deal of time to teasing, she does not do so any longer—it takes Ana longer, now, to come, even with greater stimulation, although those single orgasms are stronger than the multiple ones she might have enjoyed when younger—concentrating immediately on Ana’s clit.)

Years of practice have ensured that Angela knows well what it is that Ana likes, and it is not terribly long before she feels herself beginning to draw close to an orgasm, hips moving in time against her lover’s mouth.  If she were the type to beg, she might say more, or please, or something to that effect, but she has never been the type to ask permission for anything, and particularly not permission to come, when she has always worked at least as hard as her lovers to ensure that she orgasms.

Instead she presses insistently at the back of Angela’s head with one hand, pulling at her hair in the way her lover enjoys, brings her free hand up to her breasts, tenses her thighs in anticipation, holds her breath and—

—Does not come.

A deep breath in, and out, and she tries again to let go, good eye closing this time as she focuses inwards, tries only to feel, not the sweat on her skin or the cold on her nipples—still damp—but the tension of her approaching orgasm, the pressure of Angela’s mouth on her, the warmth and wetness and pleasure.

She is right there, and she thinks yes, please yes, I need—

—Yet, still, she does not come.

After some thirty seconds, she has to breathe properly again, and she untenses her thighs for a moment as she resists the urge to huff in annoyance; normally, this would be enough, and she still feels like she is there, like she could come at any moment, but for all that she tries the orgasm which is so close eludes her.

Angela must notice something, her frustration or the movement or the way her grip on her lover’s hair tightened and then relaxed because she looks up, for a moment, asking, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Ana is quick to reply, and then, embarrassed, but firm enough that it is a request and absolutely not a question, “I just need a bit more, sometimes, now that I’m older, so…”

“Ah,” Angela says, and then, “I do have a vibrator, if you’d like me to get it out?”

“No,” Ana says perhaps a bit too quickly.  From personal experience, she knows that she is very particular about the settings she likes, and doubts that taking the time to find the right configuration on Angela’s vibrator is worthwhile.  “You don’t actually have to do anything differently, it just might take a bit longer than usual.”

(In truth, the added sensation of something inside her might speed things up quite a bit, but even after transitioning, Angela is not terribly fond of penetrating anyone with anything, and Ana does not want to make her feel as if she needs to do anything—they can discuss it another time, when there is less pressure.)

When Angela begins again, she is more forceful in her movements, focusing more on Ana’s clit, and it is nearly at the point of being too much, of Ana wanting to ask her to slow down or ease up—but she is so, so close.  It is all she can do to stay put, to not pull away from the intensity of the sensation, because she feels again that she is right at the edge, and she does not want to lose the orgasm by twitching away at the wrong moment.

A minute passes, another.  Ana tosses her head and fights the urge to whimper, to beg.

Another minute, and Angela rubs soothing circles on her thigh, nuzzles closer into Ana, reaches her other hand to try and hold Ana’s, the way she likes to when she comes—and nothing about the sensation of it is terribly different, but suddenly Ana is there, tipping over the edge and trying not to buck her hips too hard into Angela’s face.

The unexpectedness of the orgasm makes it feel almost torn from her, and she is surprised by the intensity of it—though perhaps she should not be, given how long she teetered at the edge.  Angela helps her to ride it out, and when she is finished moves up the bed to lie next to her, propping her head up on one elbow and idly stroking the side of her face with the other hand.

After a moment to catch her breath, she turns so she can better look at Angela, who is at her blind side, “Your turn?” she asks, not certain if Angela—still fully clothed—will want to do anything, but more than willing should she prove amenable to the idea.

“Once you’re one recuperating, sure.”

“Recuperating?” Ana demands, and then, teasingly, “Just how old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know,” Angela says with a smirk, “I seem to recall someone saying just earlier today how you were much too old for an only slightly-old person such as myself.  And you do seem rather out of breath.”

Ana clicks her tongue, and rolls on top of Angela without any warning, pinning her to the mattress, “I’ll show you out of breath,” says she, using one hand to move a now compliant Angela’s hands above her head.  She leans in as if to kiss her lover, waiting until Angela’s eyes have drifted shut, face pointing upwards, to release her grip, instead bringing both hands suddenly down to Angela’s sides to tickle her.

The sensation is no doubt dulled by the fact that Angela is still wearing one of her many thick sweaters, but she shrieks nonetheless at the sudden sensation, unable to squirm away, pinned as she is.

Perhaps they are, both of them, growing older, but that hardly means that they need to grow up, nor change in any other way.  They can be happy just as they are.