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theflyingfeeling · 6 months

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eyyyyyyy look what I wrote because I was umm... bored and procrastinating. yeah, definitely only that 🙂

additional tags: angst and smut of some kind (more the implied kind that the explicit one)

enjoy~

The last time they did it was supposed to be the last time. Then again, so was the time before that, and the time before that (and the time before that as well). Yet, here they were once again, in a dark hotel room, connected at the mouth, hands on each other's cocks.

It had all started on a particularly wintery night in early November, in the sauna of Aleksi's summer cottage, of all places. They had stayed behind, under cover of being too fascinated by the first snow falling softly behind the fogged-up window, while the others had gone on to crack beers and to destroy the remains of a birthday cake by the fireplace in the next room. When Olli had turned his head back to Aleksi – to comment on the beauty of the scenery or something else, Olli no longer remembered – his breath had caught in his throat when he had found Aleksi's blue eyes looking up at his as if he had just been caught doing something he was not supposed to, his red lips parted, and his hand a little too obvious in its effort to cover the... situation between his legs.

Despite the nearly eighty degrees surrounding them, Olli's skin had been on goosebumps and his breath trembling as he had struggled to control where his eyes travelled, to order them back up to Aleksi's face (as if that would've helped) or literally anywhere else. The thoughts of wrong and we shouldn't swarming in Olli's dizzy head had been muted the second Aleksi's warm hand had rested on Olli's bare thigh, its intentions as clear as the thin frozen cover on the lake by the cottage, and verily, Olli had gasped as if he had fallen through the ice into the frigid water when the hand had reached its destination in between Olli's legs at last. What had happened after that, Olli had blamed on the heat of the moment as much as that of the sauna, and despite having spent the entire rest of the song-writing weekend summoning up the memory of Aleksi's hand gripping his cock, of his own hand being covered in white pearls of Aleksi's cum, of Aleksi's lips on his lips and neck and fingers, he had still kept telling himself it wouldn't happen again.

He simply wouldn't allow it.

That was, until he had. In his defence, it's not like Aleksi had done much to prevent it either.

At least that time the tragedy had occurred far away from home, on their short trip to Germany for a promotion event for their record label – which didn't make it any less immoral, of course, no matter how many times Olli had tried convincing himself that whatever happens in Berlin, stays in Berlin.

No, that's Vegas, Niko had helpfully reminded him when Olli had slurred his worldly wisdom, to which he had kept hanging on ever since that night in a doomed attempt to assure himself that the fact it happened in a foreign country would somehow justify what they had done.

He had almost believed it too: almost, meaning not even a little bit, and that was essentially why Olli's articulation had been so thick and sloppy, although he had found no help for his despair in the bottom of his pint glass either. No matter where he had looked, his eyes had kept travelling back to Aleksi's, staring at him from the other end of the table, equally miserable as his own; no matter what Olli had tried to busy his mind with, his thoughts had always returned to the way, back in their hotel room, Aleksi had pushed him against the mattress and Olli had let him, or the way Olli had slid his hand under Aleksi's sweatshirt and inside his trousers and Aleksi had done nothing to stop him.

If drowning himself in some overpriced German airport beer had helped him get rid of the crippling guilt, he probably would've done that on the spot. Funnily enough, if only Aleksi had given him the word in the form of a nudge against his feet under the table or a gentle brush of his hand while waiting for boarding to start, Olli would've dragged him to the nearest restroom in a heartbeat, just to hear Aleksi panting in his ear again, to feel his hot, heavy breathing against his neck. Instead, they had sat in silence for the whole flight back home, their thighs warm and firm against each other, forced to touch in the limited space of the ecomony class, a constant, intolerable reminder of their sins from the other night.

Please don't let it go that far next time, he would've said to Aleksi, had he been sober and half as brave as he wished to be. Please don't let there be 'next time'. You've always been the stronger one of us.

Alas, Olli never knew if his pleas would've made any difference, for when he had travelled back to Helsinki two weeks later, he had found himself craving for the man's touch just as much as he had ever since they had gotten off that plane from Berlin, and judging by how tight Aleksi had been gripping on to the collar of Olli's shirt, Olli could tell he shared the sentiment.

There had been a new kind of desperation to their touches and to their silent moans as they had rubbed against each other on the couch in Aleksi's basement studio. Maybe it was because they hadn't spoken for days. Maybe it was because Aleksi's girlfriend was upstairs.

When Aleksi had come all over Olli's stomach, his eyes had welled with hopeless tears. Olli wanted to brush them away, but he had feared that would've only made matters worse.

"Fuck. Sorry," Aleksi had whispered with a trembling breath before getting off him. Olli hadn't needed to ask what Aleksi had been apologizing for; he understood it was complicated without Aleksi telling him so. He understood it perfectly well, in fact, having rolled around in bed night after night for the past weeks dwelling on the matter himself, cautious not to awaken the sleeping figure next to him.

The true tragedy was that by then, they had gone far past the point of a simple apology to be any good.

The next day, soaking his sorrows in a bottle of gin on Joonas' sofa, he had told his oldest childhood friend everything, because they didn't keep secrets between them and, well, because Joonas had asked.

"So it's true, huh? Fuck, I thought it was just Niko making things up again. You know, like that time he was convinced Joel had hooked up with that Italian guy, what's-his-name."

(Olli hadn't had the heart to tell him that Joel had, very much indeed, gotten intimate with that Italian guy, a little too loud in a cleaning closet with the door a little too open on a backstage corridor next to a vending machine that had eaten Olli's money once upon a time in Rotterdam, but that was a conversation for another drunken Thursday.)

"So, umm... does... does she know?"

Olli had shaken his head.

"Are you gonna tell her?"

Olli had been too busy practically inhaling the liquor in his bottle to answer. Not that he would've had an answer ready anyway.

"Is it... I mean... It's just sex, right? There's... nothing more to it, is there?"

That time, Olli had wanted to answer. He really, really had. But whatever would've come out of his mouth instead of the broken sob he had let out once the comforting burn of the alcohol had left his throat would've been a terrible lie, so maybe it was best he hadn't.

"Oh, Olli..." Joonas had whispered into his hair as he had wept against the soft, pink fabric of Joonas' hoodie. It had been little comfort to ease his pain, but at least he hadn't been back at Aleksi's making more poor judgements.

There'd be more opportunities for that, Olli was to find out, although they had agreed with solemn nods and lumps in their throats that they'd have to put an end to it before it would be too late. It seemed, however, that neither of them wanted to acknowledge it had been too late the very moment they had first kissed in Aleksi's sauna that snowy November night; Olli could only speak for himself, of course, but once he had had a taste of something he had until then only fantasized about – for longer than he was willing to admit – he had known there was no coming back. One look at Aleksi's lustful gaze on him when they pleasured each other was the only reassurement for Olli to believe he felt the same.

Lust. Olli could fool himself and say that was all that it was: carnal desire, instinctive, uncontrollable somehow, but was it lust you felt when your daily thoughts became consumed by this one person, their smell, their taste, their voice that even came to lure you in your sleep?

Olli knew what it was. He didn't dare say the word out loud though, ignoring how it was just another way to fool himself.

Come their spring tour, and Olli's head felt too heavy with thoughts to carry on his aching shoulders. Aleksi's tongue managed to empty it momentarily the way it emptied his balls, but sooner rather than later, his head was full of mixed messages again: ones that told him he had nothing but misery coming for him if he let this go on, others that asked him how something that felt so world-shatteringly good and right could be so wrong.

Maybe it's not wrong, Olli's post-handjob brain tried to reason, like it did each time these days. He knew he'd come to his senses (or what was left of them) soon after, but every time they had gotten together on that tour – which was almost every other night if they weren't too sleep-deprived or too busy hating themselves – Olli found himself believing it more and more. Maybe it's not wrong and we're just the victims of our circumstances, of having met other people before we met each other. Maybe we're right to touch and crave each other the way we do and it's the universe that's fucked us over for never even giving us a fair chance to see if we could be something.

And Olli really, truly wanted the two of them to be something; something more than hasty handjobs in backstage bathrooms or quiet, needy blowjobs at 3 AM in the tour van; something more than a mere fraction of the life they could never have, at least not without breaking some hearts first.

Olli almost felt his own shattering into pieces when Aleksi spoke to him in the dark of their hotel room.

"This is the last time. It has to be."

Perhaps it would've been more convincing if Aleksi's thumb hadn't been stroking his collarbone, or if he hadn't felt the softness of Aleksi's lips on his shoulder.

"I know," he said anyway, like he always did. He stared up at the ceiling until his eyes began to burn, so he closed them and focused on the gentle touch just above his chest. He set his breathing to the rhythm of Aleksi's thumb, forcing away the dread and regret, hopefully until morning.

"I just..." Aleksi paused to huff out a short exhale, with an undertone of frustration or perhaps even anger, "I just— I wish it... didn't have to be."

Olli opened his eyes again, only to find the ceiling even more blurry than the last time he had stared at it.

"I wish it didn't have to be like this. I wish I could... I wish we could..."

Olli couldn't force himself to speak and tell Aleksi that he, too, wished their situation was different, to tell him just how much he wanted him, so he silenced Aleksi with his lips and showed him.

He showed him, not with his words, but with the way his hands gently pushed Aleksi to his back. He showed him with his tongue that explored the insides of Aleksi's mouth and the smooth skin below his jawline. He showed him with his fingers that wrapped around Aleksi's erection, stroking his length while Olli's other fingers prepared him. He showed him with the way he moved inside him, slowly, tenderly, then faster, more desperate, until he lost himself completely in the feeling of Aleksi.

Aleksi's breaths came out short and fast, and Olli knew he was close. His thrust became more determined, less for his own pleasure than that of the man trembling under him when his orgasm hit him. Only then Olli allowed himself to let go as well, coming inside Aleksi, filling him, taking him.

Aleksi's eyes were glassy as he sunk his hand into Olli's hair and brought him in for a kiss to make up for all the ones that were cut short while they had been gasping for air. In those moments, when they were both weak and vulnerable, it was too easy to imagine this was exactly how it was supposed to be, or, the very least, where Olli wanted to be: their their bodies having become one with him still inside Aleksi, their sweaty skin sticking together, their tongues working in sync. He hoped it spoke more than any words he had left unsaid.

I want this. I want you.

#i wanted to read a particular kind of fic but couldn't find one so i wrote it myself. voilà ✨#just so you know: this is devastating and awful and i told you i'm sorry. i wrote this mainly for me but you may read it as well 🙃#truly one of those 'getting this out of my system' kinda fics lol #also one of those 'read between the lines' kinda thingies. because i just love writing those kinda thingies 💖#i promise my next fic will be happier 😭#random tumblr ficlets by theflyingfeeling #soon to be posted in the compilation i made for ao3 #ollixallu #blind channel rpf #blind channel fanfiction

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mobius-m-mobius · 8 days

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Hi, it's the “love is a dagger” anon again! I hope you're having an amazing day! Firstly, I wanted to say thank you so much for making the gifset I requested!!

Secondly, I wanted to point out how, judging by their shape and design, the daggers Mobius had in his locker and gave to Loki for protection in 1x2 were most likely the same ones Loki lost to the Bifrost on the sacred timeline. The daggers, just like Loki, were once lost to time and space but then they were found and cherished by Mobius. It takes the entire metaphor to a whole new level and further cements the fact that the quote is specifically in relation to lokius. 🥺

You don't have to if you don't want to, of course, but a gifset of this connection between the daggers in the Loki series and the daggers in the Thor movies and how they relate back to lokius would be very nice to see, especially with how beautiful your gifsets always are!!

Hey again 🗡️ anon, lovely to hear from you!! The day has been a great one so far, hope the same for yours and had a wonderful time making your set 🥰

Completely agree with your observation about the daggers Mobius kept and tried to return to Loki being the ones lost on the sacred timeline, then considering what we know about how the TVA frowned upon personal artifacts or really anything at all to define individualization or connection outside work it means all the more for Mobius to have made a point of seeking out one of the few items Loki found comfort and identity in to treasure 🥺

As to your new request, first of all tysm for the compliment about my gifs, it's truly appreciated and I'd be more than happy to build on more Lokius parallels but (and I always feel a little sheepish confessing this LOL) I've... not actually seen any Thor movies, or hardly any of the MCU outside a bit of phase 1 + The Avengers and some clips involving Bruce and Vision so the irony of being caught up waiting for glimpses of Mobius for eternity isn't lost, trust me 😅😂 If you have any specific scenes or moments from the movies in mind though please feel free to let me know!

#oh i also saw endgame as a full circle moment and couldn't have been more lost during those battle scenes lmaoooooo #truly so checked out until owen created the man of my dreams and now here i am on my knees for this bureaucrat with a heart of gold 😂😂#but no wonder when he's so - and lokius is so -#like. when you really stop and think about it mobius only really had one (1) jet ski magazine and loki's daggers to his name #then eventually loki themselves and if i weren't insane enough about them that would send me over the edge lmao 🙃#thank you again for taking the time for this lovely ask and like i mentioned please point out some scenes which have stood out to you!#i mainly approach the character of loki similarly to the series starting with the nyc intro onward through their interactions with mobius #but have also loved hearing the perspective of those who have been fans for such a long time #hope you're well and sending lots of love your way 💖#ask

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argumentativeantitheticaldrmgirl · 7 months

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A glass of 🍷a day keeps the demons at bay

#oh hey it's me #my face #selfie #happy hump day #wine drunk #on a wednesday #couldn't be me #like 🙃🙃🙃#validate my existence #byeee <3

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running-in-the-dark · 25 days

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#currently crying because I'm alone with my husband's 94 year old grandma and I'm the only one who ever lets her talk about certain topics #so she just talked about her childhood and youth for one and a half hours #which means. the war #I'm not gonna go into it but it makes me cry every time even though I've already heard it all before #how can you not cry about a child who lost two of her teenaged brothers and had to watch the third one very nearly die too #the stories about how careful they had to be because the police constantly went to every house and checked everything #how they had to hide some of the milk from their cows so they could make butter because they couldn't afford to buy it #and how dangerous that was.#idk I'm so tired of people dying over senseless and unnecessary shit forever and ever and nothing ever changes and no one ever seems #to learn from it #or at least the ones in power don't #as long as there's disposable people (men) to send to war it doesn't matter. and now that's not even necessary anymore you can just kill #people from far away and. I'm just tired #and I'll shut up now and not talk about these things again as usual. it's not because I don't care it's because it (literally) drives me #insane to think about it and I know it's weak and pathetic but I have to choose to stay just barely sane enough to stay alive #can't stop crying. 🙃#anyway. shouldn't talk about it so. bye

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gayspock · 5 months

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i wish I wasn't so pathetic and awkward 😒always ruins my night bro 😭

#egg.txt #Sorry I went to see a gig and I had soo much fun and Ive been happy bc um #I managed well despite the ISSUES and I went alone but then 😭#So lame... I was queuing for the merch table and I kept getting pushed out and bc of that #Someone then started slow talking to me that there's a queue you know 🙃#Like I know 😭 I was behind you...#But I couldn't even get anything out I just kind of repeated back at her GOSDDD BRO #Almost rhe exact same thing happened at the mechs.... I feel like such a loser all the time bro #This 8s why i have no friends and no one to go to this type of thing with embarrassinggg cringeeeee #And it's like also like bro it's NOTHING #IDK why I'm getting so worked up I think it's just the talking to me like I'm fucking stupid #But I can't even deny it when I can't even string a sentence together right can I!!!!!!!#Anyway sad wish I had someone to share stuff like tonight with whatever at least it was fun

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yuriinadress · 2 years

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Never Again, Don't Leave Me

Content warning: mentions of blood, swearing

(This is my first time writing fanfic so feedback is greatly appreciated.)

Five days.

That's how long it had been since Tim was admitted to the hospital. And Bernard didn't even find out until the second day. Through a news report. Not from Stephanie. Not from Dick Grayson. Not from Bruce Wayne. The fucking Channel 8 news.

'Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne Admitted to Hospital After Sustaining Gunshot Wounds'

'Fuck. Not again.'

Darla bleeding out in the school nurse's office. Tim bleeding out on a ballroom floor.

'Please god not again.'

Bernard doesn't even remember how he got to the hospital, let alone leaving his apartment. His socks are soaked. Must've run there in the rain. Entering the hospital was a blur. A lot of pleading, yelling, screaming - most of it from him he thinks - and the same phrase repeated over and over again: "Family members only."

"Family members only."

"Family only."

"Family."

'I'M HIS FUCKING BOYFRIEND!'

So here he is. Day 4 of sleeping in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, nibbling on the shitty energy bar he got from the hospital vending machine. Bernard's honestly surprised they haven't kicked him out yet. Pity most likely. The nurse he yelled at on the first day keeps bringing him water when he's asleep. He really should apologize to her, she's just doing her job.

Right now he just feels numb. Stephanie's probably tried to call him, but he's pretty sure his phone is dead by now. Now he's just sitting, waiting for someone, anyone, to let him see Tim or at least let him know how he's doing.

'He's fine he's fine he's fine. They would've sent you home already if he was-'

"Bernard?"

He recognizes that voice, from Tim's video calls with his family. He's even heard it on TV a couple of times.

He turns to face Dick Grayson, eldest son of the Wayne clan and the brother Tim's closest to based on their weekly phone calls.

"Hey." Bernard's voice came out raspy and quiet. When was the last time he drank something?

"Hey," Dick said, moving to take a seat next to him. "How long have you been here?"

"What day is it?"

"Tuesday."

"Oh. Um" - he pinched the bridge of his nose - "since Saturday I guess."

Dick's face is weird. He seemed to be going through at least five different emotions at once, the most prominent being anger. Bernard really wished he was better at reading faces. Then he would have never made that dumb joke about Tim's dad abusing him back in high school, noticed how weird he was when the girl Robin appeared, or understand the emotion that crossed Tim's face whenever he had to cancel a date.

"Have you seen him yet," Dick asked softly.

"No," he responded bitterly, "'family only.'"

"Oh. And no one's-"

"No."

He heard a large exhale after that. Bernard didn't bother to remove his hands from his eyes after hearing the chair next to him scrape across the linoleum floor. Less than a minute later he heard Dick's sneakers squeak towards him.

"Come on," Dick said, holding his hand out, "they said we can see him now."

He takes his hand and doesn't let go until they get to Tim's room.

Stopping in front of the door Dick starts, "They said he's in a coma right now but he's stable. It shouldn't be very long until he wakes up."

Bernard knows those words should be comforting, but the fact that he didn't know that for almost a week just makes him angrier.

"You go first, okay?" Dick says, flashing him a small smile. "I'll be right out here."

He feels so fucking selfish. Dick is his brother and he's probably been worried sick about him. He deserves to see him a lot more than Bernard does. All he can say is, "okay."

Walking in he doesn't know what he expected, his boyfriend covered in blood? He looks peaceful like he's finally getting the eight hours of sleep Bernard keeps forcing him to get or when he falls asleep watching Blade Runner for the 700th time. He's pale, paler than his normal Gotham pale, but still looks peaceful. If it wasn't for the steady beeping of the heart monitor or the breathing apparatus strapped to his face, Bernard would've thought he walked in on one of Tim's random cat-naps. Rounding the bed, he takes a seat in the armchair next to the window. It's a lot more comfortable than the chairs outside.

For a while, he just sits and watches Tim breathe, his exhalations fogging up the oxygen mask every so often. He starts reaching for Tim's hand, wondering if he's allowed to touch him.

'Fuck it.'

Bernard grabs his hand like Tim's going to sink right through the pristine hospital sheets and he starts talking.

"Hey, Timmy. Yeah, I'm gonna call you that because you're asleep and you can't stop me. I just wanted to tell you that you better wake up soon or you're gonna miss all the fun things I got planned. They're holding another Jonathan Lord marathon soon. I know we missed the last one because you had an emergency. And Tweedle-D's is opening again. They're giving out complimentary milkshakes to Louis Grieve kids who come. I'm so close to getting my certification too, just a few more classes and we can go together. We can be totally disgusting and share one. Then there's that new amusement park opening up in Burnside. I know you said your last amusement park date didn't go well but hey, maybe we can try something new. And I can't wait to go to my first pride with you. I've never had the guts to go by myself, even after I figured out I wasn't straight. And I would really love to spend it with you. A day to hang out at the park, party with other people, and just be ourselves. Sounds super fun right? I just... I can't lose you... not like Darla or... or Laura - shit! Just... fuck. Please..."

'Don't leave me again.'

#yuri writes stuff #this plot bunny has had a chokehold on me since 125 came out #leaving it there because i have nothing else past that point #i keep writing things thinking it'll be a couple paragraphs and then they come out as full-length novellas #why can't i put this much effort into my schoolwork 🙃#me while writing this: *takes the time to look up where the amusement park they went to is - doesn't actually look up #how a gunshot wound to the neck would be treated*#also yes timeline stuff - i decided to put batman 125 between the pride special and 'special delivery' bc i can/j #it's actually bc there's a whole 6 months between the ul stuff and the travis moore story and i think it just works better there #wrote this while listening to a mix of lo fi and chelmico's 'touhikou' on repeat (which is where the title's from)#batman 125 #timbern #tim drake #bernard dowd #dick grayson #batfam #dc fanfic #timber #i love making my boy suffer #also couldn't resist inserting a little bit of emt!bernard in there #emt!bernard #ficlet

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