Syvintri



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    Clearly, Ivan did not have the memories of his past life. When Till had finally managed to lock eyes with the popular man, the black-haired boy had only lingered on Till’s face for a moment before turning back to the person trying to talk to him.

    Quite frankly, Till was pissed off. How dare this fucking dumbass consume his thoughts for three years and then have the gall to not even remember him.

    Man. Fuck that guy.

    Till helps Ivan get the memories of his past life back. If Till gets a boyfriend along the way that’s between him and god.

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    06 Jul 2026

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    As if a switch has been flipped, Ivan does not stop gazing at Till, while Till is the one to skirt away.

    “This might be good for you, though,” Ivan says, his voice gentle, as if each word doesn't tear into Till’s arteries. “You won’t have to deal with this burden for much longer. It’ll pass.”

    “You’re not dead,” Till manages, his voice hoarse. “We'll still be us.”

    For the first time, Till feels waves of terror shake through their profound silence. 

    Ivan gets surgery for his Hanahaki. Till deals with the aftermath.

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    06 Jul 2026

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    “Okay,” he said slowly, “do you... have some kind of hand kink?”

    Ivan’s face didn’t flinch. His grin just grew. “Would it matter if I did?”

    Till stared.

    Ivan’s thoughts were a tangled spiral of reverent filth and ritualistic craving.

     

     

    Bet they’d look good wrapped around my throat.
    Or gripping my hair.
    Or curled against my chest while he sleeps.
    I’d ruin anyone who tried to touch them but me.
    He’d like it if I told him. I could make him like it.

     

     

    **OR
    Till wakes up with a headache and a horrible, horrible new ability: he can read minds.

    Unfortunately, one of the first ones he hears is Ivan’s.

    Even more unfortunately, Ivan is completely obsessed with him.

    Capital O Obsessed.

    Even worse than that? He’s good at hiding it.

    Or he was, until now.

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    06 Jul 2026

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    "Who?" Till's voice came out choked, barely audible. "Who is it, Ivan?"

    Shame burned in Ivan's cheeks in contrast to the cold dread coiling in his chest. Each ragged breath felt like sandpaper against his raw vocal cords. "It's..." he started, then trailed off, the confession caught in his throat like another blooming petal.

    Something flickered in Till's eyes. "Ivan, please," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Just tell me. We can figure out something, they can love you back, you will be fine-" The desperation in Till's voice, raw and open, sent a fresh wave of pain through Ivan. He wanted nothing more than to confess but the words refused to leave his mouth.

    aka

    ivantill hanahaki au where they both know and still nothing changes because you can’t force anyone to fall in love and while till loves ivan, he isn’t IN love with him and the guilt kills him just the same as the flowers do for ivan. that I talked about on twitter yesterday (actually today at 12:46 am but close enough)

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    06 Jul 2026

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    Till goes slack-jawed. What the everloving fuck, he thinks, appalled. Ivan has the gall to glance at him while he tugs on the poor thing’s hair, wheedling the most obnoxious moan Till has ever heard out of his bed partner.

    It’s a disgusting thing to think, but Ivan looks, well. Like an alpha. Not that Till had any doubts about Ivan's designation, it’s just, damn.

    He doesn’t think he’s ever fucked anyone as brutally as Ivan is fucking this guy and the guy underneath him looks blissed.

    Till likes watching his bandmate have sex for purely educational purposes. Obviously.

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    06 Jul 2026