jit
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Summary
His eyes travelled around the familiar features–just older, but the same; thick eyebrows, long eyelashes, and that tooth, peeking over his lip even though his mouth was closed. Till’s chest heaved, and he pulled off his gloves so that his shaking hands could cradle the face, thumbing underneath tired eyes.
This had to be a dream, and he was going to wake up soon–any second now. But time only stretched on, and he was still there in that downpour, hovered over his unconscious body.
“Ivan?” Till squeaked out–a name he hadn’t said aloud in nine years. To anyone else he was always that guy, that brat, that… feeling I didn’t understand until you were gone.
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Or: While scavenging in the wreckage of a plane crash, Till clashes with a Guard, and comes face to face with Ivan. The real Ivan; the man he thought died in an act of sacrifice, and proceeded to haunt him for years afterwards.
This story is now available in Russian, translated by Tsukimi_77
Series
- Part 1 of What’s Born Of The Ashes
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Summary
Ivan didn’t dignify his retort with an answer. His fingers brushed over the leather on his sheath.
“Touch him again,” Ivan’s voice came out flat. Not a threat. Not a request.
His thoughts reprimanded him; telling him not here, Ivan ignored it.
He just needed a reason.
Till sniffled, pain blooming into a headache as he cradled his forehead. Freddie cackled, finding his discomfort funny. He lunged forward, his arm shooting out ready to gather a fistful of Till’s hair.
Ivan got his reason.
His katana made a sharp, clean sound as it withdrew from his waist. It happened so fast, no one processed the motion–until Freddie’s arm was rolling on the floor and blood was gushing out of where it used to be.
This story is now available in Russian, translated by like_a_black_sorrow
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Summary
It, at most, was a 30-second ordeal before teachers pushed their way through the crowd and dragged him off of Ivan.
But it felt like forever.
Forever of Till looking for an opening, forever of Ivan's fist pounding at whatever part of Till's body he could make contact with, and when Till finally gained the upper hand, forever of Ivan giving up and hearing his sorrowful cries.
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[Three times Till fails to tell Ivan how much he likes him, one time he finally gets it right.]
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Summary
“Answer me,” he grits out when he still doesn’t respond with nothing more than a chuckle. “You break into my house and have danger at my doorstep! You owe me the generosity of your name and you better pray that I don’t kill you.”
The man runs a hand through his messy, spiky hair and gives that stupid, wonky smile again before putting his hands in his pockets. “Technically, you let me in. I just took the offer.”
This would be around the time Kurapika would ask for forgiveness from some obscene god if they were to ever exist and swing the bat into his head. But he finds himself faltering at the usually easy task and his eyebrows pinch together in confusion.
“What?” he sputters, “No I didn’t!”
“Well, you did. Did you not psychically open the door?”
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or; Kurapika, after completing his journey of finding all the eyes of his lost clan, is left to figure what to do with the future left ahead of him. In the middle of the night, Leorio bursts into his apartment and then figures he should just take place in Kurapika's unfortellable life while he's at it.
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Summary
Even the best artist needed help to get their jumbled thoughts for a crush into coherent words.
Okay, Poe thought as he climbed the stairs, but what if your crush is your best friend, and thinks you like their step-sister. And is a guy. Even the best musical genius couldn't help you with that.
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Or; Poe is deeply in love with Ranpo and what's not a better way to tell him this than in a song?