#alnsg fanfic

[rayas-ryoiki-tenkai]

red ✮⋆˙

an ivantill tragedy ✮ spoilers ✮ mentions of violence

Red. Pretty red, threaded in beads across the expanse of snowfall. Scarlet stars, those that burn and stretch with a snarl to be seen, those that curl within themselves until the energy churns and wipes everything clean away.

So pretty, in the scent of drying blood. A fresh stream breaks past the scab on his cheekbone; eyes of the same blackening crimson catch the stray and Ivan can’t have any part of Till go to waste.

He pokes a finger on the latter’s cheek, pupils darkening when another slot of blood shows face and a dab ends up on his finger. Till smacks away the hand with bite in his words but Ivan can’t quite hear it. The blood is centre-stage. So bold and pretty, he thinks, as if the softest curve of Till’s skin slashed to feed Ivan’s curiosity.

Ivan drags his tongue to have a taste.

✮⋆˙

Red are the eyes of metal chassis’s and the claws of disfigured creatures. Red, like the bright shine of an apple, a distant dream of a child’s curiosity on how the crunch of the fruit feels in his mouth. Ivan catches that yearn in Till’s winged eyes, like they dreamt of a bird’s freedom beyond the galaxies. Red is the falling rocks that promise him infinite wishes and all Ivan can think about is giving them to him.

Red shines in the green of his eyes. A mangle of colours better than the paintings of a quiet night sky. What could a wish grant him that the wonder in those eyes couldn’t?

Still, their young hands are locked, paired with the uptick of childish laughter, and Ivan couldn’t wish for anything else.

Till falters, slipping his hand away. He turns and Ivan smiles because even his back looks pretty in the red span of soft colour. Red like the binds that cuff into Till in punishment. Red like the flower chains that barely graze his fingertips. Red is the blaze in Till's eyes as he watches from within the pod and the falling figure of the woman who never loved him.

Red. It's always been red. The punctures in shapes of crescent moons as Till cries, red under his own nails. Ivan adores the look. It looks so bare and broken, the forbidden red in verdant tears, like someone drew a blade in the scattered northern lights to bleed it dry.

It's so pretty. Ivan can't stop looking, pupils blown to take the image of Till wholly and entirely, embellish it to the forefront of his mind and burn it on his tongue. Those sharp eyes that seem larger than life, but squint with a grit of teeth when they shift in Ivan's direction like the sight of him is repulsive.

At he's looking.

It's why he doesn't mind. Because, amidst the rain and the breathy notes of Till's voice, Ivan can only envy the water that collects in silver hair and track down the brandish on Till's neck. His heartbeat is eager to reach, knocks the front of his chest to voice the lost confession of his lips.

So Ivan steps off, drops the microphone with a clatter and impeccable posture of an idol beaten into shape. The long flaps of his white coat flutters behind him in the wind. His hand finds the back of Till's neck.

Red, he sees, when their lips touch. Red in the brimming squelch of something warm glowing in his chest as Ivan tilts against soft, shallow lips. Red, so pretty, that living flutter in the walls of his heart that remind Ivan of how fated his love will be. How, among the tragedy that is the alien stage, Ivan wills the finale of this round with the searing of lips. His eyes squeeze as if to retain the memory for as long as he is able to.

⋆˙The numbers track. It's been one-sided from the beginning. Ivan wraps two solid hands around the other's neck, akin to caressing the fragility of a baby chick, because this time Till won't be victim to the red imposed on him. Ivan bears the weight when he recoils from a bullet in his side.

Red, he coughs out, and Ivan's eyes are warm again. Red, like this is length of his confession fated for him in this lifetime. Red smacks against the floor and the smile fixes on Ivan's face for as long as Till will continue to see him.

Red. He leaves behind. Red that pools around Till's shoes. Red is the colour that flares in Till's eyes, similar to how he had caught in Ivan's between his stupidly koala antics. Till thinks to ask for Ivan to hold onto him once again.

The universe darkens. Space stretches and fades around the both of them. Red. It's always been red. Perhaps that is his fate; to feel the brunt end of his reality and the red that taints his hands.

For the first time, Till doesn't see pink, nor the bold yellow of Mizi's eyes. All he sees is red.

✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙ ✮⋆˙

[rayas-ryoiki-tenkai]

jjk masterlist ✮⋆˙ ao3

Gen:

ordo an chao - from chaos, comes order - geto

NSFW content:

something a little different - gojo/reader

hate sex (1/2) - gojo/reader

HC's and Drabbles:

silent affection - satosugu

nothing changed - satoru gojo (236+261 spoilers)

mulitfandom ✮⋆˙

alnsg:

red. - ivantill