Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Till senior was a dedicated actor. He did his job well and was admired by most. Producers and directors loved his performance, and co-stars admired his talent. He was also nice—quiet but nice.

Ivan loved him.

... Okay, perhaps love was too big of a word, but he definitely had a crush on him.

He noticed small details about his senior over time. Till would always drink black coffee—usually two to three per day. He also had rough fingertips from playing the guitar, which fit perfectly with his character, Contestant T. He'd show up and leave work in baggy, comfortable clothes. There was a red sweater he wore more frequently than the rest of his wardrobe.

Now, don't call Ivan a stalker! He was simply very observant and had noticed those things by accident. At least, that's what he always told himself.

There was one more thing Ivan had noticed about his co-star—he'd always rush home right after work, sparing everyone a polite "Good work, everyone. See you next time" before disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Blink—gone he was.

Talking about Blink Gone, the shooting for said episode of Alien Stage, the series they were acting in, had begun. Till was one of the main characters in this episode, so he spent a lot of time on set.

Ivan was there too, but only as a haunting memory for Till senior’s character. Contestant I, the character Ivan was playing, had passed away in a tragic sacrifice last episode.

Ivan would flush every time he remembered the scene where he had to kiss and choke his senior. He was so nervous that he messed up way too many times for his own liking. He stepped on Till's foot, he bit his lip—hell, he forgot to choke him one time and just continued making out with him.

He had felt so ashamed of himself back then, but his senior stayed patient with him and even told him about his own first kiss on screen where he, to Ivan's surprise, also made plenty of mistakes caused by nervousness.

When Ivan wanted to thoroughly thank Till for his patience and words of encouragement, he was instead met with a quick pat on the shoulder from the grey-haired man before he rushed back home.

Ivan's curiosity was killing him. What was his senior always returning home to in such a hurry? Was he just that exhausted from work? Ivan had overheard Till complaining to Sua senior about his exhaustion once, so maybe that was it.

No, he had to find out. Ivan sometimes couldn't sleep at night, that’s how curious he was. Maybe he was a bit obsessed, but give him a break.

He tried asking around. He first ran to Mizi and Hyuna—both women loved gossip. But they couldn't give him an answer. Only theories.

"Maybe he has a secret lover who's very clingy?" Hyuna suggested with a conspiratorial smile.

Ivan chuckled, but he felt a pang in his chest. This explanation just felt a bit disappointing.

Then, he tried asking Sua, but he couldn't contact her—after all, she barely ever showed up since her character died at the very beginning. She now only ever appeared for flashback scenes or to support Mizi.

By the way, Ivan was convinced the two ladies had something going on, but he decided not to pry. Mizi would most definitely come to him herself if things got serious.

He considered asking Hyunwoo, but the poor guy always seemed busy, either with work on set or keeping an eye on his sister. Hyuna was gentle and pure, but she was also slow and dense, which made her younger brother worry. He was always looking out for her, which, in Ivan’s opinion, was reasonable—especially since Luka clearly had a crush on her.

The blonde was also of no help to Ivan. Instead, he made fun of him, calling him weird and obsessed.

"Are you an idiot? Just ask him directly."

Ivan wanted to punch him for every rude remark, but that... that wasn't too bad of an idea.

"Luka, I don't tell you this a lot, but I love you and I cherish our friendship."

With that, Ivan ran off to look for Till, leaving Luka baffled and disgusted.

"That was the first time you said something like that, and hopefully the last. I felt a shiver run down my spine."

Ivan knew where to go—the dining room where his senior was probably pouring himself his third coffee of the day. And he was right. Till sat there on a chair, sipping the bitter drink with a tired expression. 

He then spotted Ivan and his gaze softened a little. "Ah, Ivan"

Ivan smiled at him and began walking up to the older man. It was just an innocent question, simple curiosity, he kept repeating to himself. Till raised an eyebrow as he saw Ivan nervously fidgeting with his fingers once he sat down on a chair next to him.

"Uh, Till... I have a question. You- you don't have to answer it of course, I'm just a little curious..." Ivan managed to get out, proud of himself that he only stuttered once.

His senior simply nodded, encouraging him to continue. "You always rush home in a hurry. I was just wondering why..."

Till stayed quiet for a moment before answering. "I am a single father to a five-year-old girl"

Chapter Text

"I am a single father to a five-year-old girl"

"... I'm sorry, what?"

Till raised an eyebrow, and Ivan panicked. "Oh, I'm sorry! I was just surprised..."

The older man shook his head, an amused chuckle escaping his lips. "No, I get it." He then cleared his throat before asking, "Hope this satisfies your curiosity?"

No. No, it didn't. In fact, it only made it worse. Ivan wanted to ask so many questions, but he bit his tongue, not wanting to be rude. After all, the reason behind Till raising a child by himself could be very sensitive. Besides, Till not elaborating might be a sign to end the conversation. So, Ivan simply nodded.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Till was exhausted. He always was, but today he just seemed more tired than usual. At first, Ivan thought it was just for his role. After all, Contestant T was supposed to be portrayed as on the verge of breaking. But even during breaks, Till looked awful.

Today, they were also filming the scene where Contestant T hallucinates Contestant I. For that, Ivan had to gently tilt Till’s chin up. They were so close, mere inches apart, and Ivan could clearly tell that those super dark circles weren’t makeup.

Yes, Till senior always had dark circles, but today they looked more concerning than ever.

Once shooting was done, Ivan ran up to Till, who was already speed-walking to his trailer. "Till! Wait, please!" Ivan called out after him. Till turned to him with a questioning expression.

Once Ivan caught up, he asked, his voice careful as if afraid to offend him, "You seem more tired than usual... is everything alright?"

Till stayed quiet for a while before letting out an exhausted sigh. "It's my daughter... she’s sick, and I barely slept because of that."

Ivan felt a pang in his chest at the way Till's face twisted in worry.

"She has a babysitter looking after her now, but he honestly doesn't seem to know what he's doing..."

If you asked Ivan what the fuck he was thinking, he'd probably tell you that he wasn't thinking at all. Before he could even realise he was opening his mouth, the words had already left him.

"Let me help you!"

As soon as his brain caught up with what he had just blurted out in the heat of the moment, his face turned a deep shade of red. He wasn't impulsive—so why on earth had he just said that?

Till seemed to be thinking about it, though—hard and thoroughly. Finally, after a few moments of hesitation, he nodded.

"You're good with kids—I see how you treat the child actors. And they love you too."

"U-uh, yes...? And uhm-"

"Today was your last day on set, right? I mean, there's a lot of time until your character appears again... so I'm assuming you have the time?"

Ivan nodded, a bit too enthusiastically in hindsight, but Till didn’t seem to notice. "Do you really want to? Help me, I mean."

"Yes!" Ivan almost smacked himself for how loudly he answered. Calm down, he thought to himself. "I mean..." he continued, now more collected, "I wouldn't be offering otherwise."

The grey-haired man stared at him for a moment with those sharp, teal eyes, and suddenly, Ivan felt so small.

Then, finally, Till spoke in a soft voice. "I trust you. I don't know you well on a personal level, but I'd be an idiot if I didn't realise that you're reliable. I think I can trust you with my daughter, Ivan."

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ivan tried to steady his breathing as he rang the doorbell of Till's house. In an attempt to distract himself, he decided to analyse the house and its architecture. It was a cosy-looking, small house.

Just when he had calmed down enough to not hyperventilate, the door opened, revealing an exhausted-looking Till in his pyjamas. "Good morning, Ivan. Sorry, I just woke up..."

"Haha..." Ivan laughed nervously and stepped inside when Till moved to the side to let him in. "Good morning to you too. Also, don’t worry!"

Till yawned loudly, swaying slightly on his feet. Ivan shot him a worried look—it was honestly a bit scary to see his senior struggling to stand upright.

After Ivan took off his jacket and shoes, Till led him into the kitchen, where Till’s mini version sat at the kitchen table.

"Celeste, this is Ivan. Say hello-" Till began, but the little girl immediately jumped up from her chair, gasping loudly in awe as she laid eyes on Ivan.

"You're the idol Papá likes!"

"... I am?" Ivan choked out after a moment. When he turned to Till, the older man looked petrified.

But Celeste quickly interrupted the awkward silence.

"You're so handsome! Can you sing for me? What's your favourite food? Can we have a princess tea party? Do you want to see my drawings? What-"

"Celi, please" Till wheezed out, rubbing his temples. "Breathe."

Seeing the little girl’s enthusiasm, Ivan felt himself relax. "Nice to meet you too," he said with a chuckle, and Celeste practically buzzed with excitement. Then, Ivan looked around the kitchen before suggesting, "Do you want me to make you some breakfast?"

Once Celeste nodded her head enthusiastically, Ivan turned to Till. "Any allergies she has?"

Till looked a bit awkward, probably still reeling from his daughter exposing him as an Ivan fan just minutes ago, but he shook his head. "None. She also isn’t a picky eater, so don’t worry."

Ivan hummed in understanding before glancing at the clock on the oven.

"Till... didn’t you have to be on set in forty minutes?..."

Till immediately went pale.

"Fu-" He glanced at Celeste and quickly corrected himself, "Fiddlesticks..! Okay, I need to change!"

And just like that, he sprinted out of the kitchen.

Ivan felt sorry for him—he wondered if this was a common occurrence.

"Celi?" The little girl grinned brightly at him upon hearing her nickname. "Wanna help prepare breakfast for your dad and yourself?"

Ten minutes later, Till could be heard sprinting down the stairs—no longer in his pyjamas but still looking like a mess. He stopped by the kitchen, hurriedly apologising.

"I’m so, so sorry I have to leave so abruptly, Ivan. Call me if anything happens, yeah? Spare keys are in the top drawer in my bedroom, the room left to Celi's. And honey?" He turned to Celeste. "Daddy loves you. Be nice to Ivan and please don’t cause any trouble."

Right after, he rushed toward the door to put on his shoes and jacket.

Ivan quickly scooped Celeste up from the floor while grabbing a paper bag from the counter, then ran after him. "Wait! Celeste and I made breakfast for you."

Till looked up from tying his shoes, wide-eyed. Celeste nodded proudly. "I put the cheese, and ham, and tomatoes, and mayonnaise on your sandwich!"

"Aren’t you a great cook?" Ivan praised her softly before handing Till the bag. Then, he turned his full attention to him. "Don’t speed. They won’t kill you if you’re five minutes late."

Till stared at the bag in his hands, disbelief and a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "Thank you, you two... And don’t worry, I’ll be careful."

He then stepped closer, pressed a kiss to Celeste’s forehead, and gave Ivan a soft smile before leaving the house.

"Bye-bye, Papá!" Celeste waved after him, and Ivan felt his heart melt.

"Let's go, you still need to eat your own sandwich."

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ivan had just finished cleaning the kitchen. Celeste was happily drawing something after devouring her sandwich when Ivan’s phone rang. He picked it up, only to see that Till was calling him.

"Ivan!" Till’s panicked voice echoed through the phone, making Ivan immediately tense up. "I forgot to prepare Celeste’s medication!"

Ivan exhaled through his nose, the grip on his phone relaxing. "Alright. Just tell me where it is and what she needs."

Till explained everything to him, sounding much calmer than before, while Ivan prepared the medication.

"Got it. I’ll give it to her right away since she already ate."

"Thank you, Ivan..." A voice could be heard calling Till to get ready, and he quickly thanked Ivan one last time before hanging up.

Ivan was honestly taken aback. He had always thought of his senior as cool and collected, but in truth, he was an overwhelmed dad. Ivan couldn’t deny that it made him admire him even more—doing amazing at your job while still trying your absolute best to care for your daughter was nothing short of praiseworthy.

He gave Celeste her medication before checking her temperature.

"Your Papá said you had a fever yesterday, but it went down..." he commented, gently pinching her cheek, making her giggle.

The rest of the day went by faster than Ivan expected.

After Celeste changed out of her pyjamas and, with Ivan’s help, brushed her teeth and washed her face, she sat down on a chair and let him do her hair.

"I want the same hair you had in that one song!" she exclaimed, pointing at the TV, where one of Ivan’s songs from his idol days was playing. Of course, it was the little girl who insisted on turning it on.

In that music video, Ivan had shoulder-length hair, half of it tied into a bun.

"Of course," Ivan chuckled, but deep inside, he felt like crying. Celeste was so cute, smiling at the TV and singing along to Ivan’s voice. He couldn’t help but ask, "Does your dad also like this song?"

Celeste immediately nodded, making Ivan pause combing her silver hair. "Yes! But I think his favourite one is, uh... the one that goes like, uh... ‘Lalala? Lala badum! Badum!’"

Ivan laughed before nodding. "Ah, that one? Well, I’d say it’s a good choice."

"I like it too, but my favourite one is the tralala lala- uh... badum lala...! This one!"

"This one is good too!" Ivan agreed with a fond smile.

The afternoon passed in a blur of laughter and play. Ivan quickly discovered that Celeste had endless energy. She roped him into playing dolls, then switched to a game of hide and seek, then decided they should build a "castle" out of couch cushions. Ivan played along, letting her be the boss.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, Celeste was still buzzing while Ivan was secretly exhausted. He managed to convince her to take a break by letting her help him prepare lunch. With a very serious expression, she helped him by giving him the spices, and when Ivan let her stir in the pot, she looked so proud of herself.

"You're a great chef, Celi," he praised, and she grinned up at him.

"My grandma says cooking is an art!" she chirped, puffing her chest out.

"She's right," Ivan chuckled, plating their food. "And you, Miss Celeste, are a little artist."

After lunch, Ivan decided some fresh air would do them both good, so he took Celeste to the nearby park. The moment they arrived, she ran straight for the playground, her silver hair bouncing as she climbed onto the jungle gym. Ivan found a bench nearby, watching over her as she played with the other kids.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Till: Everything going okay?

Ivan smiled at the message before snapping a quick picture of Celeste mid-giggle on the swings.

Ivan: She's having fun and feeling well :3

A response came almost instantly.

Till: Good. Thank you, Ivan

Evening rolled around sooner than expected. After returning home, Ivan prepared dinner and then a warm bath for Celeste, helping her wash her hair while she happily splashed around. 

Once she was all clean and in her pyjamas, it was time for bed—or at least, it should have been time for bed.

Celeste, however, had other plans.

"You're not sleepy?" Ivan raised an eyebrow as she wriggled under her blankets, still wide awake.

"Nope!" She beamed.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Okay, what should I do to help you sleep?" Celeste grinned mischievously before clapping her hands. "Sing for me!"

Ivan blinked in surprise before laughing softly. "Alright, alright..."

Sitting down at the edge of her bed, he thought for a moment before choosing a soft, slow song from his idol days. His voice was quiet, gentle, and as he sang, he watched Celeste's little fists unclenching as her breathing evened out. By the time he reached the last note, she was sound asleep, her silver lashes resting against her cheeks. 

Ivan smiled and brushed a strand of silver hair from her face before quietly leaving the room.

As he descended the stairs, the front door creaked open.

Till stepped inside, looking utterly exhausted, his shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. 

Ivan was about to say something out of concern, but before he could, Till looked up, spotting him in the dimly lit hallway. A tired but genuine smile spread across his face.

"Hey," he greeted, pulling off jacket. "How was today?"

Ivan leaned against the railing, crossing his arms. "Eventful. We played, went to the park, cooked together. She took her meds, ate well, and had a bath before bed." He nodded toward the staircase. "She only agreed to sleep after I sang for her."

Till chuckled as he kicked off his shoes. "Sounds like she had a good day."

"She did," Ivan confirmed. Then, he tilted his head. "What about you?"

Till shrugged as he took off his shoes. "Eh, nothing spectacular. Just work." Ivan hummed, not entirely convinced, but he let it slide.

He walked towards the corridor and began slipping on his shoes. Just when he was about to leave, he turned back.

"By the way, there’s some chilli con carne in the fridge. Celeste helped me prepare it."

Till blinked in surprise. "You really didn’t have to-"

"It’s no issue," Ivan cut him off with a small smile. "Besides, it makes more sense to cook for three rather than just the two of us."

Till lingered for a moment, lips pressing into a thin line before he sighed in defeat. "...Alright. Thank you."

Ivan gave him a small wave. "See you tomorrow, Till."

Till returned the gesture, still looking a little caught off guard. "See you tomorrow, Ivan."

And with that, Ivan stepped out into the cool night, making his way back home.

Chapter Text

Till watched Ivan leave, still feeling a bit taken aback. He made his way to the kitchen and, just like Ivan had told him, there was a big portion of chili con carne waiting. He took the food out and began heating it up in the microwave.

It felt good coming home and having food ready. Most nights, Till was too exhausted to even pour himself a bowl of cereal, settling instead for the dull ache of hunger as he collapsed into bed. Tonight would have been one of those nights—if it weren’t for Ivan, he’d have gone to bed with an empty stomach.

Just as he was about to sit down, his phone buzzed with a message.

Ivan: Btw, I added just a bit of chili because I was worried that it'll be too spicy for Celi otherwise, so if you like it spicier, you’ll have to add more :3

Till felt his heart melt a little more. Ivan was so considerate of both him and Celeste, and he’d only been 'hired' for a day now.

Till’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, thumbs twitching with indecision. Too formal, and it might come off distant—too casual, and he risked sounding overly familiar. Finally, he settled for a simple response, hoping it struck the right balance.

Till: Thank you, Ivan. You’re very considerate. I really appreciate it, and I’m sure Celeste does as well

No period at the end—apparently, that made a message look more friendly.

Soon, Ivan’s response came.

Ivan: Np <3

Cute, Till thought with a faint smile tugging at his lips as he took the first bite. The spice was subtle but warmed him from the inside out. It was damn good.

No longer starving, he found the energy to shower. Afterward, he made his way to Celeste’s room, like he always did before bed. When he peeked inside, her stuffed bunny lay on the floor.

Till stepped in quietly, picking it up and brushing a thumb over the worn fabric before tucking it carefully into her arms. The little girl stirred at that, making Till wince in frustration.

"Papá...?" she mumbled sleepily, and Till immediately reached out to stroke her hair.

"Shh, sleep, Celi" he urged softly.

"Is Mr. Ivan coming tomorrow?" she asked, her words slurring with sleep. “I like him a lot... he’s really nice.”

"He sure is. Don’t worry, baby, he’ll come tomorrow too" Till promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’ll take you to kindergarten and pick you up since you’re healthy again, according to him.”

Celeste hummed happily, snuggling deeper into her blankets. "Yayyy..." she sighed before dozing off again.

Till stayed for a moment longer, just watching the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. Then, with a quiet sigh, he stood up and made his way to his own room.

The next morning, after Till had woken up, the doorbell rang. He hurried to the door, already knowing who it was.

"Good morning!" Ivan greeted cheerfully as Till opened the door. He stepped inside, slipping off his jacket. "Is Celeste still asleep?" he asked, glancing toward the hallway.

Till nodded.

"Alright, I’ll go wake her up. Have you eaten breakfast yet?" Ivan asked, eyes bright and expectant.

Till hesitated. He had a feeling that if he admitted he hadn’t, Ivan would insist on making something for him. It hadn’t taken long for Till to realise just how sweet and eager to please his junior was—both at work and now here. He didn’t want to take advantage of that kindness, but when Ivan looked at him with those round, dark eyes, it was hard to resist.

"No… I haven’t" Till admitted finally.

Ivan’s smile widened. "Then I’ll make you something! I’ll just go wake Celi up first" he said brightly, already heading upstairs.

Ivan gently nudged the door open and quietly stepped into Celeste's room, careful not to wake her abruptly. He leaned down, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Celi, it's time to wake up" he whispered softly.

Celeste stirred, her silver hair bouncing as she rubbed her eyes. "Mmm... good morning, Mr. Ivan" she mumbled, a sleepy smile spreading across her face.

"Good morning, sleepyhead" Ivan chuckled, offering her a hand. She took it eagerly, still half-dazed but excited to start the day. Together, they made their way downstairs, Celeste running ahead to greet her Papá.

Till, who had been sitting in the kitchen checking his email, smiled as Celeste threw herself into his arms. "Good morning, Papá!" she said with a giggle, her voice full of energy.

"Good morning, sweetheart" Till replied, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. He looked up at Ivan, who was watching them with an easy smile.

"What are we having for breakfast?" Ivan asked.

Celeste jumped up and down. "I want pancakes, Mr. Ivan!" she exclaimed, eyes shining with excitement.

Ivan hesitated. He quickly glanced at the clock on the wall, then at Celeste's eager face. "We don't have enough time for pancakes, Celi..." he said, trying to soften the blow. “How about scrambled eggs instead?”

To his surprise, Celeste took the news well, nodding enthusiastically. “Okay! I love scrambled eggs!” she said, beaming.

Ivan let out a relieved breath. “Alright, scrambled eggs it is” he smiled. “Let’s get to it!”

Till, who had been watching the exchange, grinned and stood up. “I’ll go change” he explained, before leaving the kitchen.

As Till disappeared upstairs, Ivan began cracking eggs. Celeste, ever the eager helper, began placing plates on the table. Her little hands moved quickly, placing forks and cups as she hummed to herself.

By the time Till returned downstairs, freshly dressed and looking much more awake, Celeste was practically bouncing in her seat, hands folded neatly in her lap, waiting for breakfast. Till checked the time and sighed, then sat down at the table.

"I think I've got enough time to eat at home with you two" he said, pulling out a chair. “Thanks for making breakfast, Ivan.”

“No problem,” Ivan replied, smiling as he served up the scrambled eggs. “I hope you like them.”

Celeste wasted no time, digging in with gusto. As she ate, she chattered nonstop, telling Till and Ivan about her excitement for returning to kindergarten. She mentioned her friends, the games they would play, and how much she couldn’t wait to see her teacher again. The sound of her voice filled the kitchen, and Ivan couldn’t help but smile at how much energy she had so early in the morning.

Once breakfast was finished, Ivan stood up and gestured toward the stairs. "Alright, Celi, let’s get you ready"

Celeste nodded enthusiastically, hopping off her chair and rushing up the stairs with Ivan following close behind. Till, who had been slowly sipping his coffee, watched them go before glancing at the clock. He took one last sip before following them.

When he reached Celeste’s room, he knocked lightly before pushing the door open. “I’ll be leaving now” he informed.

Before Till turned to leave, he walked over to Celeste and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Be good at kindergarten today, sweetheart. Papá loves you.”

“I will! I love you too, Papá!” Celeste said, smiling lovingly.

Till hesitated for a moment before gently brushing his finger against Ivan's shoulder. The raven looked surprised and confused at the gesture, his face flushing a little. “See you later, Ivan…” Till mumbled out, embarrassment creeping in for no apparent reason.

It was silly, really. They had kissed before—more than once. For work, yes, but still. They’d made out with each other, so why was this so embarrassing right now?

He quickly left the room, shaking his head as he tried to shake off the weird feeling. It was just Ivan. Just his junior. He didn’t need to make it more complicated than it was.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

As the days went on, Ivan started visiting more often, as agreed. He helped with getting Celeste ready in the mornings and picking her up from kindergarten. It was routine now, and it felt natural. Ivan would cook lunch and dinner, and Till always came home to a warm meal.

Till returned home earlier than expected that Friday, the house quiet except for a few muffled giggles coming from upstairs. He hung up his coat, set down his bag, and made his way upstairs, pausing outside Celeste’s bedroom door.

Pushing the door open gently, Till blinked at the sight that greeted him. In the middle of the room, Celeste and Ivan were having what looked to be a very sophisticated tea party. 

Celeste wore her favourite pink princess costume, complete with a glittery crown that was slightly askew on her silver curls. 

Across from her, cross-legged on the floor, was Ivan — who, much to Till’s amusement, was also wearing a tiara and holding a teacup with exaggerated grace.

“Ah, Lady Celeste, this tea is simply marvellous” Ivan said, voice high and proper, the very picture of a dignified princess. Celeste giggled, delighted by the act, and poured him more imaginary tea.

Till couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Am I interrupting something important here?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.

Both heads whipped around, Celeste’s eyes lighting up. 

“Papá!” she squealed, scrambling to her feet and running over to throw her arms around him. 

“You’re back early” Ivan said, surprise evident in his wide eyes. His cheeks flushed pink, but he smiled, adjusting the tiara that had slipped slightly during his sudden movement.

Till chuckled, ruffling Celeste's hair. "Yeah, the shooting for Blink Gone ended today. I’m free now until we start filming Weige — though they won’t need me much there, since my character is mostly just… well, dead." He grinned mischievously. "Or not. No spoilers allowed.

Ivan rolled his eyes. “Right, of course” Ivan snorted. “I’ll also be shooting around two scenes.”

Celeste tugged at Till’s sleeve, eyes round and pleading. “Papá, you have to join our tea party! Please!” she insisted, giving him that sweet, wide-eyed look that he could never resist.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Till pretended to hesitate, looking at Ivan, who was trying very hard not to look too amused.

“Please, Papá!” Celeste begged, bouncing on her toes.

With a dramatic sigh, Till relented. “Alright, alright” he chuckled. “How could I say no to my little princess?”

Within moments, he was seated at the tiny table with a pair of glittery wings strapped to his back — courtesy of Celeste, who declared him the ‘Fairy King’. Ivan’s shoulders shook with barely contained laughter, and Till shot him a glare, which only seemed to make things worse.

Ivan, however, grew a little quieter as the tea party went on. His smile faltered at the edges, gaze occasionally drifting to the floor. With Till no longer busy, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d still be needed around the house. After all, he’d only been hired because of Till’s packed schedule. The thought twisted uncomfortably in his chest, but he forced the smile to stay in place, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“Mr Ivan?” Celeste’s voice broke him from his thoughts, and he blinked, refocusing on her.

“Hm? Sorry, what was that?” Ivan asked, forcing himself to sound cheerful.

Celeste’s eyes shone with excitement. "There’s gonna be a festival! The other kids at kindergarten were talking about it" she babbled, nearly vibrating in her seat. “Can we go? Please, Papá and Mr Ivan?”

Ivan’s breath hitched slightly. “Oh, I-” he started, but Till cut in with an easy smile.

“That sounds like fun” Till said, before turning to Ivan. “You’ll come with us, right? It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

 "I… If you’re sure, then I’d love to" Ivan murmured, honestly a little suprised to be included apparently without a second thought.

Celeste clapped her hands in delight. “Yay! It’ll be so much fun!” she cheered, throwing her arms around Ivan’s neck, who chuckled and hugged her back, expression softening.

Sunday arrived with clear skies and warm sunlight, perfect for the festival. The three of them wandered through the bustling stalls and game booths, Celeste’s laughter ringing bright and free.

Till couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed, so genuinely happy. Watching Celeste excitedly drag Ivan from one booth to another made something in his chest ease, the tension that usually knotted his shoulders melting away. 

Ivan seemed to glow under the sunlight, eyes crinkling when he smiled and hair catching the golden light just right. It was… distracting.

At one of the game stands, Celeste stopped abruptly, eyes fixed on a wall of plush toys. She pointed eagerly at a stuffed bunny, her eyes wide with hope. Till chuckled and stepped forward, determined to win it for her. After a few tries — with Ivan laughing beside him and offering playful tips — Till managed to knock down all the bottles, earning a cheer from Celeste and a soft, approving smile from Ivan.

Till handed the bunny to his daughter, who squeezed it tight with a gleeful “Thank you, Papá!”

Till turned to Ivan, something warm curling in his stomach at the sight of Ivan’s approving smile. Before he could think twice about it, he said “Now one for you. Any one in particular?” 

Ivan first looked shocked, his eyes widened in suprise. But when he saw the determination in Till's eyes he bit his lip, gaze darting to a small, grey stuffed cat that glared angrily. 

"Really? It's kinda ugly" Till commented before he could bite down on his tongue. 

Ivan hesitated before wheezing out in between laughter "I want it because it reminds me of you..."

“...Got it.” Till murmured, rolling up his sleeves. He shot Ivan a 'Don't ever bring this up again' look before starting the game. It took a few more tries than he would have liked — Ivan trying to hide his giggles behind his hand the whole time — but he finally won the cat.

When he handed it over, Ivan’s face went a deeper shade of pink, fingers brushing Till’s for just a second too long. “You really didn’t have to” Ivan mumbled, eyes darting to the ground.

“I wanted to” Till replied, grinning when Ivan peeked up, eyes wide and flustered. Did Ivan always have such long bottom lashes? The sight did things to his heart that he definitely wasn’t ready to examine.

They spent hours wandering through stalls, sharing snacks, and playing more games. Ivan even managed to win a keychain for Celeste at one of the booths, looking far too proud of himself as she cheered. 

At some point, they ended up watching a small parade pass by, Celeste perched on Till’s shoulders, waving eagerly at the performers. Ivan laughed at the sight, the sound bright and delighted.

“Didn’t think you could be this expressive” he teased Till once Celeste had been set back down. "I thought you were all stoic and cool.”

Till huffed, cheeks warming. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hm” Ivan confirmed, grin softening. “Turns out there’s not a single nonchalant bone in your body.”

Till nudged him with his shoulder, scowling half-heartedly. Ivan laughed, leaning into the touch rather than away, and Till’s heart stuttered.

They ended up staying longer than intended, the sky darkening to a deep blue by the time they headed home. Celeste fell asleep in the back seat almost instantly, one arm curled around her new bunny. Once they arrived, both of them tucked her into bed.

When they made their way back downstairs, the silence felt heavier somehow. Till hesitated at the door, hand scratching the back of his neck. “It’s… pretty late” he mumbled, not quite meeting Ivan’s eyes. “You could stay the night. If you want.”

It wasn’t that late, actually. Not really. But Ivan, who had been playing with the hem of his sleeve, looked up with eyes wide and hopeful, face blooming with a warmth. “If you’re sure...” he said, voice soft.

Till’s throat felt tight, but he nodded. “Yeah” he replied, words a little gruff. “Of course.”

Ivan smiled, cheeks pink. “Maybe I could… take a quick shower first?”

“Oh—yeah, sure,” Till stammered, a little too fast. He rummaged through his closet for some spare clothes, trying not to focus on how warm his face felt. When Ivan slipped into the bathroom, Till exhaled shakily, running a hand over his face. Get a grip, he scolded himself silently.

A few minutes later, Ivan reappeared, towel-drying his hair and wearing one of Till’s old shirts and a pair of sweatpants. The problem was, Ivan was bigger and the clothes stretched a little too snugly over his chest. The hem of the shirt rode up just enough to reveal a sliver of pale skin.

Till’s mouth went dry. Was Ivan always this curvy? His eyes betrayed him, flickering down to his waist and hips for just a heartbeat too long before he jerked his gaze away, guilt coiling hot and unpleasant in his stomach. God, what was wrong with him? This was Ivan.

He cleared his throat, ears burning. It’s not my fault, he reasoned desperately. Ivan is attractive. Objectively. It’s just an observation. Nothing more.

Ivan, oblivious to Till’s internal crisis, smiled softly. “Thanks for lending me these” he murmured, voice shy.

“Y-yeah” Till managed, voice cracking embarrassingly. “No problem.”

The silence stretched, awkward but not unpleasant. Ivan fidgeted with his fingers, snaggletooth worrying at his bottom lip. Till forced himself to look anywhere but directly at him, focusing fiercely on the floorboards.

“Goodnight, Till...” Ivan said finally, voice soft.

“Goodnight...” Till replied, equally quiet, heart pounding.

When Ivan slipped into the guest room and the door clicked shut, Till exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to his chest to will his heartbeat to calm down. Sleep, he told himself firmly. 

Just go to sleep.

Easier said than done.

Ivan kept coming over every morning, even though Till was on break and perfectly capable of handling things himself. Every time Till tried to bring it up, he'd see Celeste and Ivan playing, making his resolve shatter instantly. 

Till found himself grateful — selfishly so. He tried not to think about how much he looked forward to Ivan’s easy smiles and soft words or how natural it felt, having him there.

On the rare days Ivan couldn’t come over because of a photoshoot, Celeste would sulk at the door, shoulders drooping. It left Till feeling strangely unsettled, too, even though he knew it was ridiculous. He didn’t need to miss Ivan this much. But he did.

At some point, Celeste dropped the ‘Mr.’ and began calling him just ‘Ivan’, and Till couldn’t find it in himself to correct her. Ivan didn’t seem to mind either, his smile only growing softer, eyes warm with something fond.

As weeks blurred together, Ivan staying over became a quiet routine. Till would make some excuse about it being late, voice stumbling awkwardly, and Ivan would accept with pink cheeks and a soft smile. 

And Ivan? Ivan’s crush only grew stronger with every small smile Till gave him, every quiet word of thanks. Seeing Till so soft and gentle with Celeste made something in him ache with longing, a warmth blooming in his chest that he couldn’t quite smother.

More than once, Ivan caught himself staring — at the way Till’s eyes softened when he looked at Celeste, or how he’d roll up his sleeves absentmindedly before washing the dishes. 

It was ridiculous, really, how gone he was for this man.

Chapter Text

Ivan hadn’t expected to witness Celeste throwing a tantrum. She was just a child—only five years old—but until now, she’d always been so well-behaved. Perhaps that was why the sudden outburst caught him so off guard.

"I want dessert!" Celeste yelled, stomping her feet on the floor with surprising strength for a kid her age.

Till, sounding more exhausted than stern, told her “No, Celeste. You cannot eat dessert before lunch” over and over again. But the more he refused, the more upset she became, her cheeks flushed and eyes glossy with tears. 

Finally, she turned to Ivan, eyes wide and pleading, clearly expecting him to side with her.

For a brief moment, Ivan hesitated. But then he shook his head firmly. "Celeste, no. Till is right, you can't have sweets— you need to eat proper food first. If you stuff your tummy with dessert, you won't be able to eat what your body actually needs"

Celeste’s bottom lip quivered, eyes glistening from the betrayal, before she let out a frustrated huff and stormed out of the living room, small feet thumping angrily against the wooden floor.

“Don’t run around the house!” Ivan called after her, raising his voice just enough to be heard over her retreating footsteps. “You might slip and hurt yourself!” He listened intently for a while and thankfully he could hear her stomping slowing down in the distance.

It wasn’t until the silence settled that the realisation hit him. He wasn’t her father. His stomach dropped, panic flaring hot and sudden. Had he overstepped?

Ivan turned to Till, already bracing himself for being yelled at. But instead of the irritation he’d expected, Till’s shoulders sagged with something that looked like… gratitude?

"Thanks..." he muttered softly under his breath and Ivan's confusion grew.

"What— I thought you'd be mad!... I yelled at her..." 

Till shook his head "Scolded her, not yelled" he corrected before adding, voice quiet but sincere “The fact that you care enough to discipline her means everything to me” 

Ivan’s breath left him in a rush, relief flooding his veins. He sank back down onto the couch beside Till, the tension in his shoulders slowly unwinding.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Till’s gaze was fixed on the floor, fingers twisting together nervously. Then, hesitantly, he began to speak.

“You remember that story I told you—the actress I had my first on-screen kiss with?” Till murmured, voice barely above a whisper. 

Ivan nodded. "Beatrice Zdrada, was it?"

Till hummed quietly. “We got into a relationship” he admitted after a while, words spilling out unevenly. “We kept it a secret... She got pregnant. Which.." Till let out sigh that almost sounded like a chuckle "was quite odd. She claimed to be on birth control, and we rarely had sex. Like once a month? Maybe? I was just really shy back then. But not like that’s important now—what happened, happened"

He stopped for a while and Ivan stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt him. He couldn't really tell why Till was telling him this and where this was going, but he kept his mouth shut.

Then, Till continued. "She told me she wanted to start a family with me.” A humourless laugh escaped him, bitter and raw. “But barely a month after Celeste was born, I found out she was cheating on me with another actor. She left, just like that. Didn’t even look back.”

Ivan was outraged—yet speechless. 

Till scrubbed a hand over his face, but it did little to hide the tears which began glistening on his cheeks. “I didn’t want Celi to have a mother like that” he confessed, voice cracking. “I thought—I thought I could handle it. But now, I’m terrified I’ve messed everything up.”

The words seemed to break something inside him. His shoulders shook, and he turned away, hiding his face behind trembling hands.

"Maybe I should have begged her to stay..? So my little girl could have a mum... I wouldn't— I wouldn't care if she was cruel to me but—but maybe... maybe she would've been a good mother?..."

Ivan hesitated for only a second before reaching out, wrapping his arms around Till and pulling him close. Till didn’t resist. If anything, the contact seemed to shatter the last of his restraint, his quiet sobs turning into heart-wrenching cries as he clung to Ivan like a lifeline.

“Thank you” Till choked out between gasps, fingers twisting into Ivan’s shirt. “For everything. I’m so tired of always being the bad dad—the one who has to say 'no' or 'not now'. Just… thank you.”

Ivan tightened his hold, resting his chin on top of Till’s head. “You’re a good father” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Celi loves you and she knows that you love her too. Now, say it. 'I am a good dad'.”

Till sniffled, shaking his head weakly. “Ivan-”

“Say it” Ivan insisted, voice soft but unyielding.

A shaky breath. Then, barely audible “I’m… I’m a good dad...”

"Eh, no. You didn't sound very convincing. Again."

Till snorted before repeating, this time more firmly. "I am a good dad."

Ivan smiled, a gentle warmth spreading through his chest. “There you go” he murmured. “And I’m not going anywhere. I'll be the-” he hesitated. 

For some reason he wanted to call himself 'bad dad' but of course, he wasn't Celeste’s father. That would be weird to call himself that, he thought. So, instead he corrected himself "I'll be bad with you."

Finally, after what felt like hours, Till’s sobs began to subside, replaced by soft, uneven breaths. They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, Ivan’s hand moving in slow, soothing circles over Till’s back. 

The tremors that had racked Till’s shoulders gradually subsided, leaving only the sound of his uneven breathing and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Till’s grip on Ivan’s shirt loosened bit by bit, his body melting into the embrace.

Ivan was soft. Really soft and warm, Till noted to himself. 

Eventually, when Till’s breathing had evened out completely, he pulled back just enough to meet Ivan’s eyes, cheeks still blotchy but lips curved into a small, grateful smile.

“Thanks” he murmured, voice hoarse but steady. “I… needed that.”

“Anytime” Ivan replied softly, giving Till’s shoulder one last reassuring squeeze before letting his hands fall away.

Till sniffled once, wiping at his face with the back of his sleeve, before clearing his throat. 

“How about we go make lunch now?” he suggested, a bit rough but already sounding more like himself.

Ivan’s smile widened. “Yeah” he agreed. “Sounds good. Let's not keep Celeste waiting before her demons awaken again” he chuckled, making Till burts out in laughter. 

They made their way to the kitchen, slipping into an easy rhythm as they gathered ingredients and sorted through cabinets. The quiet was comfortable, punctuated only by the clink of dishes and the soft sound of Ivan humming a tune. 

After a while, both men heard the hesitant patter of small feet at the doorway.

Celeste lingered at the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other with her hands clasped behind her back. Her cheeks were still a bit pink, and her eyes flickered nervously between the two of them.

“I’m… I’m sorry” she mumbled, her voice small and wobbly. “For being bad. I'm sorry, Papá... I'm sorry Ivan”

Their expressions softened instantly. Till crossed the kitchen in a few steps, crouching down to her level before scooping her up into his arms. “You’re not bad, sweetheart” he assured her, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “You just need to learn to listen sometimes, yeah? As long as you understand what you did wrong, that’s what matters.”

Celeste sniffled, nodding solemnly, her arms wrapping around Till’s neck.

Without thinking, Ivan stepped forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, the gesture so instinctive it didn’t fully register until it was already done. The realisation hit a heartbeat later, and panic flared white-hot in his chest. Now he had overstepped, he was sure of it.

He pulled back abruptly, a thousand apologies scrambling to his lips, but then Celeste let out a bright, delighted giggle.

“Ivan gave me a kiss!” she squealed happily, wriggling in Till’s arms with an excitement that made Ivan’s panic falter. “Ivan gave me a kiss!”

She repeated it a few times, each more gleeful than the last, her laughter high and sweet as bells. Till chuckled, the sound warm and affectionate as he watched her, eyes soft with a fondness that made Ivan’s chest feel too tight.

“Yeah, he did” Till said, smiling at Ivan, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"You're not mad at me anymore?" Celeste asked the raven with hopeful eyes.

Ivan let out a shaky breath, the tension ebbing from his shoulders all at once. His lips twitched, a helpless laugh bubbling up from his throat, relief so powerful it left him dizzy. 

"No, Celi, you apoligised and that's all that matters"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

A few days later, Ivan found himself standing in front of a cottage house in the countryside, its stone walls framed by creeping ivy and flowerbeds bursting with colour. The garden was full of blooming flowers and the windows had lace curtains that fluttered gently in the breeze, carrying the soft scent of lavender. It was picturesque, the kind of place that felt warm even before you stepped inside—but that didn’t stop his nerves from winding tight in his chest. Ivan fidgeted with the hem of his jumper, chewing the inside of his cheek. 

He shifted on his feet, running a hand through his hair. “Is it stupid that I’m kinda nervous?” he muttered, glancing sideways at Till.

Till rolled his eyes fondly, bumping Ivan’s shoulder with his own. “Calm down” he chuckled. “She’s going to love you. Honestly, I think she already does from what I’ve told her.”

Ivan huffed, cheeks warming. “Now why would you do that...” he mumbled

Meanwhile, Celeste bounced up and down beside him, her excitement palpable. “Grandma, grandma!” she chanted, practically vibrating with enthusiasm, her small hand clutching Ivan’s fingers with surprising strength. Ivan couldn’t help but smile despite himself, her energy infectious.

Before he could muster another thought, the door swung open, revealing a beautiful older woman with silver hair and eyes that matched Till's in colour—though unlike Till's sharp gaze, hers were downturned and soft. The resemblance was so uncanny that Ivan, without thinking, blurted out, “Wow, the genes are really strong in this family.”

There was a beat of silence, Ivan’s eyes going wide as his brain caught up to his mouth. Heat rushed to his face in an instant.

The woman’s eyes first widened in surprise, but then she threw her head back and laughed—a rich, heartfelt sound that instantly put Ivan slightly at ease.

“You must be Ivan” she grinned, eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

Ivan stuttered, nearly swallowing his tongue in the process. “Ah... I—um, yes, that’s me. I—uh—hello, ma’am.”

She chuckled, waving a hand. “None of that ‘ma’am’ business” she scolded lightly, pulling him into a warm hug before he could even process it. “Call me Io, dear.”

Ivan’s brain short-circuited for a solid three seconds, but he managed a sheepish smile. “Right. Uh, thank you… Io.”

Io smiled at him affectionately before ushering them inside with a bright smile. The cottage was cosy and inviting, all warm hues and soft light, the walls adorned with family photos and shelves packed with books and trinkets. The scent of freshly baked bread lingered in the air, making Ivan’s nerves ease.

While Ivan helped Celeste out of her coat and listened to her chatter about how excited she is to be here, his gaze drifted to his surroundings. 

The walls were lined with photographs and all kinds of art. Ivan barely had time to take it all in before Celeste squirmed out of his grip once her shoes were off, rushing down the hallway with a giggle that echoed off the walls.

Io smiled after her, eyes soft, and Ivan caught the way Till’s expression mirrored it. The sight sent a flutter through his chest— the genes are strong in this family.

They spent the next hour like that—slipping into easy conversation, settling into the living room, and laughing over the way Celeste insisted on showing Io every single one of her toys as if she hadn’t seen them a hundred times before. Io was bright and lively, her jokes easy, and despite himself, Ivan found his nerves unwinding bit by bit, having no reason to worry with how welcoming Io was.

At some point, Io stood with a stretch, patting Till’s shoulder. “Come on, darling, help me with the tea” she said, steering him towards the kitchen. Till followed without much protest while Ivan busied himself in the living room, keeping an eye on Celeste.

“He’s lovely” Io remarked, voice warm with approval once they had stepped into the kitchen. “And so good with Celi. She lights up around him.”

Till’s ears turned pink, but he didn’t argue, arranging the cups on a tray a bit too intently. “He’s… yeah, he’s great” he mumbled, voice fond despite himself. “Celeste loves him. Honestly, I’ve never seen her so happy with any of her previous babysitters.”

Io hummed knowingly, raising a single, unimpressed eyebrow. “Babysitter, huh?” she drawled. “Interesting. I must have missed the part where you bring babysitters to visit your dear old mum.”

Till spluttered, nearly dropping the sugar bowl. “It’s not—it’s not like that” he insisted, cheeks flaming. “I just—he’s—ugh, I don’t know.”

“Mm-hmm” Io smirked, lips curling with mischief. “Sure you don’t.”

Till groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Mum” he whined, voice high and scandalised. “Stop—what?”

Io simply leaned back against the counter, folding her arms. “Oh, you know damn well what” she said smoothly. “Darling, be honest with yourself. When are you ever going to find someone so good for both you and Celeste again?”

Till’s breath caught, the words hitting a bit too close to home. He faltered, gaze dropping to the floor as warmth spread beneath his ribs, tangled with confusion and something dangerously close to hope.

Io's expression softened, her eyes gentle. "You deserve to be happy too" she murmured. "And Celeste deserves another adult figure in her life she can rely on."

Till hesitated, biting his lip. "I'm sure Ivan doesn't feel that way about me" he mumbled. "Besides, he might love spending time with Celeste, but I wouldn't dare ask him to take on the responsibility of being a father figure for her—if that's what you're hinting at."

Io sighed, a touch of exasperation in her eyes. "From what I’ve seen and everything you've told me, he already acts a lot like a dad to Celeste."

That made Till pause, his thoughts drifting. "Maybe it just seems like it" he said eventually. "Ivan might not see it that way."

"Then talk to him about it" Io urged.

Till let out a frustrated sigh. "And say what, exactly? 'Hi, Ivan, do you love me? Also, how do you feel about becoming Celeste’s second dad?' Like, no. Absolutely not."

Io couldn’t help but smile, despite her slight frustration at how blind and stupid her son could be. "You might as well just do that."

Till bit his lip again, heart pounding unsteadily in his chest. He wasn’t sure what to say—wasn’t sure if he could say anything without it coming out shaky and uncertain. But even so, the thought of Ivan's easy smiles, warm hands, and the way Celeste’s eyes lit up whenever he was around made the uncertainty seem just a little less terrifying.

"Yeah" Till breathed eventually, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe."

Io's smile softened, and she squeezed his arm gently. "Take your time" she assured him. "Just don’t let something good slip away because you’re scared."

Till let out a shaky breath, glancing toward the living room where Ivan's laugh rang out bright and clear, mingling with Celeste’s delighted giggles.

They returned to the living room to find Ivan cross-legged on the carpet, carefully balancing colourful wooden blocks into a tall tower. Celeste hovered beside him, eyes wide and breath held, tiny hands clasped together as if one wrong move might send the whole thing tumbling down. Ivan’s snaggletooth peeked out as he bit his bottom lip in concentration, and he didn’t even look up when Till and Io reappeared, too focused on placing the final block.

"There we go" Ivan breathed, pulling his hands back slowly as if the slightest breeze might topple the creation. Celeste’s eyes lit up, a delighted giggle bursting free, and she clapped her hands together.

Io smiled warmly at the sight, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You know” she remarked, settling onto the couch “Till used to love building towers like that when he was little.”

Till groaned instantly, already sensing where this was headed. “Mum” he muttered, a plea laced in his tone.

“Oh hush” Io waved a hand dismissively. “I still remember how he’d start wailing the second his towers fell over. Real, proper sobbing with hiccups and everything.”

Ivan’s head snapped up, eyes glinting with mischief. “Really now?” he drawled, grinning at Till with all his teeth.

Till’s ears turned an impressive shade of red. “It’s not—she’s exaggerating” he grumbled, looking anywhere but at Ivan’s smug face.

“Am not” Io countered smoothly, sipping her tea with a perfectly innocent expression. “He was such a sensitive boy. And don’t even get me started on his emo phase.”

Till visibly paled. “Mum, please‐”

But it was too late. Io’s eyes glinted wickedly, the smile on her lips widening. “Oh yes, his emo phase” she sighed wistfully. “All black clothes, dark eyeliner, the whole package. He even tried to cut his own hair once—got so upset when it went wrong that he cried for hours until I had to give him a buzz cut.”

Ivan clapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking with barely-contained laughter. Even Celeste, though clearly confused about half the story, started giggling just because Ivan was.

“Oh, he was lucky” Io chuckled, eyes crinkling fondly. “He took a break from acting during that phase and was homeschooled most of the time, so no one ever got a chance to snap a photo.”

Till buried his face in his hands, groaning miserably. “I am never going to live this down” he mumbled, voice muffled.

“Oh, darling” Io cooed, setting down her tea with an air of determination. “I'm not done yet.”

Before Till could protest, Io vanished down the hallway, leaving him wide-eyed and spluttering. “Wait—Mum, no!”

She reappeared a moment later, a thick leather-bound photo album clutched to her chest, eyes practically dancing with delight. “Found it” she sang.

Till lunged, but Io was quicker, swatting him away with a tut and a raised eyebrow that had him retreating instinctively. “Mum... Please..!”

“Oh, hush, don’t be such a baby” Io huffed, flipping open the album as she settled back down. 

Till opened his mouth to argue, but Ivan, laughing helplessly at the entire spectacle, scooped Celeste into his arms and plopped down onto the couch beside Io. Celeste squealed, settling happily in Ivan’s lap, tiny hands already reaching eagerly for the album.

“Oh, this is amazing” Ivan grinned, eyes bright with excitement.

“Traitor” Till muttered weakly, dragging a hand over his face but too mortified to do anything more.

Io chuckled, patting the spot beside her invitingly until Till sank down with a resigned huff, cheeks scarlet. “Now then” Io murmured, opening the album to the first page. “Let’s start with the baby photos, shall we?”

The first picture was of a chubby-cheeked toddler Till, eyes bright and hair a mess of silver strands, sitting in a high chair with porridge smeared all over his face. Ivan’s eyes went wide, a hand flying to his mouth as he stifled a delighted laugh.

Celeste clapped her hands excitedly. “Papá?” she squeaked, pointing at the picture. “Is that you?”

Till let out a strangled noise, covering his face with both hands. “Kill me now” he begged, voice muffled.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic” Io chuckled, flipping to the next page. “Yes, that's your dad, Celi. Look, here’s him in his first school play—he was a cat.”

Ivan couldn’t hold back the laugh that burst free, eyes glistening with mirth. Celeste giggled wildly, clapping her hands again, and even Till—though still horrifically red in the face—couldn’t stop the reluctant, sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

They spent the next hour like that—passing the album around, pointing and laughing at every embarrassing photo and story Io unearthed, Till’s protests getting progressively weaker until he was chuckling along with them despite himself.

Ivan laughed until his sides hurt, Celeste’s giggles ringing bright and warm in his ears.

As the laughter finally began to settle, Io closed the photo album with a fond sigh, patting Till’s knee with a smirk. Ivan leaned back into the cushions, chest still warm with residual giggles and cheeks pleasantly sore from smiling so much. Celeste, nestled comfortably in his lap, was still giggling softly, tiny fingers tracing over the album cover with wide eyes.

Io’s eyes drifted to them, glinting with an idea. “Oh! Ivan, dear” she began “Have you seen Celeste’s baby pictures yet?”

Ivan blinked, tilting his head. “Oh—no, I haven’t, actually” he admitted, surprised. “Why?”

Io’s expression flattened instantly as she turned to Till with a glare sharp enough to cut. Till’s entire body visibly tensed, eyes going wide like a cornered animal.

“Mum” he started, voice high and panicked, “I—it’s not—there just… wasn’t an opportunity?”

“Nonsense” Io huffed, crossing her arms with a scoff. “What utter rubbish. Honestly, Till, you really are hopeless.”

“Mum” Till groaned, dragging a hand down his face, ears burning red.

But Io was already on her feet, muttering something under her breath as she disappeared back down the hallway. Till slumped back into the sofa with a groan, covering his face with both hands.

Ivan chuckled softly, kicking Till’s leg gently. “Guess I’m about to see baby Celi” 

It wasn’t long before Io returned, a different photo album clutched to her chest. She moved with purpose, settling back between them and flipping it open to the first page with a bright smile.

Celeste leaned forward instantly, eyes wide and eager. Ivan adjusted her in his lap, peering over her head with equal curiosity.

The first photo was of a newborn Celeste, tiny and red-faced, wrapped snugly in a pastel pink blanket with a tuft of grey hair sticking up wildly. Her eyes were screwed shut, little fists raised in protest, mouth open mid-scream.

Ivan’s heart did an embarrassing little flutter in his chest, eyes softening instantly. “Oh my god” he breathed, voice barely above a whisper.

Celeste blinked at the photo, brows furrowing in confusion. “Who’s that?” she asked, nose scrunching in a way that had Till chuckling fondly.

“That’s you, darling” Io cooed, brushing a gentle hand through Celeste’s hair. “The day you were born. You were very grumpy, just like your Papá”

Celeste’s eyes went wide, mouth forming a little 'o' as if she couldn’t quite process the idea. “No way!” she squeaked, a giggle slipping free. “That’s not me!”

Till chuckled, leaning over to tap the photo gently. “It really is, Celi” he promised, eyes soft with fondness. “You were so small back then.”

Ivan’s chest ached at the tenderness in Till’s voice, heart squeezing painfully tight. He really loved Celeste so much, Ivan thought. 

The next few pages were filled with more baby photos—Celeste in a tiny yellow onesie, Celeste swaddled in soft blankets, Celeste with wide eyes and a gummy smile. In one, she was face-first in a bowl of mashed carrots, cheeks and nose smeared orange, a delighted smile splitting her face in two.

Io chuckled, tapping that particular photo with a grin. “Oh, that was her first time eating solids” she explained warmly. “Till was terrified she’d choke, but all she did was stick her whole face in the bowl.”

They moved through the album slowly, Io and Till explaining the backstory behind each picture in turn. Celeste’s first steps—she had immediately tried to sprint and toppled headfirst into Till’s arms. Her first birthday—she’d cried at the sight of the candles. Her first Christmas—she had more fun with the wrapping paper than the actual presents.

Ivan listened intently, heart impossibly full, eyes bright with every new story. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the photos and he found himself smiling so wide it hurt.

By the time they reached the last page, Celeste was in complete awe, still unable to fully grasp the fact that this adorable baby was her.

Ivan swallowed thickly, glancing up at Till and Io “Thank you” he murmured, voice soft and a little shaky. “For sharing this with me.”

Till’s eyes darted away, cheeks blooming red, but the tiny smile on his lips was warm and a little shy. “Yeah” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, of course. I have more at home so you know...”

Io arched an eyebrow. “Wait, there are photos I don't have?” 

“Mum, don't kill me please” Till almost yelped under her hard gaze. 

Chapter Text

Till tried to convince himself that he wasn’t a pervert. He definitely wasn't staring at how his clothes—whenever he lent them to the raven for the night—hugged Ivan's curves.

He was not staring at his undeniably full and plump chest, or his small waist, or the soft curve of his tummy. Not his wide hips, full ass, or strong arms—

No, Till was not a pervert!

He definitely didn’t pay attention to how Ivan swayed his hips when he walked or danced while cooking. He most certainly didn’t look at how his chest jiggled when he ran down the stairs or how soft and warm it felt when Ivan teasingly pulled him into a hug.

And neither was Ivan a pervert!

He definitely didn’t sniff the clothes Till lent him for the night, inhaling the other man’s scent—musky and clean and so unmistakably Till.

He most certainly didn’t stare at Till’s long fingers or the lean muscles of his arms whenever he rolled up his sleeves.

There was no way he stared at how Till's adam’s apple bobbed when the older man swallowed or how his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Absolutely not. 

He definitely didn’t pay attention to how Till sat with his legs spread, the bulge in his pants hinting all too strongly at his size, his lap looking so inviting—

Yeah, no, Ivan was not a pervert!

And both men were totally not completely oblivious to what they were doing to each other—at least for a while.

But no matter how stupid they could be, they couldn’t deny any longer that something had shifted between them.

Nothing about their routine had changed, so why did it feel like something had?

The realisation was slow. It started with noticing the small things—the longer stares, the way Ivan's cheeks would flush under Till's gaze and vice versa.

Despite both trying to convince themselves that there was nothing behind it, it was undeniable. They were staring at each other more often than not.

Ivan could feel Till’s sharp eyes on him, could even catch the older man’s gaze roaming over his whole body—hot and heavy.

He tried to wrap his head around it—why? Why would Till stare like that?

Ivan was used to being stared at. He had been popular at school for his looks, amongst other things, idol in the past, and now he was starting an acting career. People often stared at him. But he couldn’t understand why Till would—did he also find him attractive? His beloved Till whom he admires so much?

Maybe he did. Ivan could’ve sworn he’d caught Till staring at his cleavage more than once if he wore bigger necklines or scanning his face with an almost hungry look.

Wouldn't that also explain why Till blushed so often around him? The way his eyes would dart away whenever Ivan caught him staring, cheeks tinged pink?

Till also found himself thinking more intensely about the possible reasons behind Ivan's eyes drifting to his crotch or his fingers—or the way his gaze lingered on his face.

If he were to think rationally, what other reason could there be besides Ivan being attracted to him?

Till was hopeful.

Ivan was too. He had hope.

Maybe he was right —maybe Till did find him attractive. 

So both allowed themselves to test the waters.

It started off slow and hesitant.

Small touches—their fingers grazing or sitting closer to each other on the couch while watching Celeste play on the carpet.

Then, they became bolder.

Ivan allowed himself to reach for Till’s hands, to play with those long fingers that he craved to feel inside himself so badly.

He’d nuzzle up to him on the couch, soft and warm, and feel beyond pleased when Till let him.

And Till? He’d wrap an arm around the raven in response, mentally screaming.

Other than that, he allowed himself to touch Ivan's waist or draw circles on his thighs with trembling fingers.

Testing. Watching. Waiting.

Both felt relieved at how the other didn’t reject their touch. So why not take it a level higher?

“You look good in these pants” Till commented, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Oh? They’re just regular pants, though…” Ivan questioned, tilting his head slightly.

Till faltered a little. “They look good on you… especially on your hips.”

Oh? Fine, Ivan thought.

That's how they were going to play it now.

“Mm-hmm, thank you, Tilly” Ivan replied, letting the nickname sink in.

And it sure worked wonders because if Till was blushing before, now he was turning crimson.

Ivan decided to torture him with it.

“Have I ever told you how good you look in glasses, Tilly?” he murmured in a low voice one morning, leaning in close while Till was reading the newspaper.

The nickname worked like magic every time, reducing Till into a blushing, blubbering mess.

“Tilly, can you pass me the salt?”

“You’re so good at this, Tilly.”

“Oh, Tilly, cheer up!”

Till grew more frustrated each time.

Ivan was playing with him, and it was clear now that he was doing it on purpose—fully aware of the effect he had on Till.

At some point, this whole situation turned into a competition.

Who could fluster the other more, faster?

How far could they go?

Where were the boundaries?

Were there any?

Till was about to test this.

It started with a stupid mistake—he’d mispronounced a word, and Ivan hadn’t let him live it down, teasing him relentlessly.

Usually, Till would just tell him to stop, hoping the raven might take mercy and actually listen.

But now, he hesitated. His hand twitched, and before he could overthink it, he raised his hand and brought it down on Ivan's butt with a sharp smack.

The softness of Ivan's ass and the way it jiggled from the impact didn’t go unnoticed by Till—definitely not.

And, for a split second, he could’ve sworn he heard the softest, barely audible moan slip past Ivan's lips.

Till's eyes snapped up, scanning Ivan's expression.

What he found was Ivan’s face flushed a deep pink, eyes wide in shock. But he didn’t seem mad or uncomfortable—just surprised and, if anything, a little breathless.

So spanking was alright. Noted, Till thought, trying desperately to ignore the way his own heart was pounding.

"Behave" Till warned him finally, voice low and steady despite the heat creeping up his neck.

Ivan swallowed, eyes still wide, and nodded—almost too eagerly.

That little incident opened the floodgates and the teasing escalated—mercilessly.

Till found himself growing bolder, hands lingering longer than necessary on Ivan's waist, fingers grazing bare skin whenever the raven stretched and his shirt rode up.

Ivan wasn’t any better.

If anything, he seemed delighted by this new development, pushing Till’s buttons at every opportunity—bending over a bit too much when reaching for something, stretching with a soft sigh that exposed a sliver of pale skin, or 'accidentally' brushing against Till’s chest.

It became a game of chicken—a battle of who would break first.

Till would pin Ivan against the counter with an arm caging him in, voice low and smooth.

"Excuse me" he’d murmur, lips barely an inch from Ivan's ear, and then step away with a smug smirk when Ivan’s breath hitched.

Ivan, however, knew how to play dirty.

One night, when they were watching a film, he shifted until he was sitting between Till’s legs, back pressed against his chest.

When Till’s breath stuttered, Ivan leaned his head back, cheek brushing against Till’s jaw.

"Comfy?" he asked, voice innocent, eyes glinting with mischief.

They were far past the stage of hesitation or shame now—they both knew it.

They both knew what they wanted and God—if this whole thing wasn’t more erotic than sex itself.

Almost every night, Till found himself jerking off, the tension that had accumulated in him throughout the day because of a certain raven making him dizzy.

The memory of Ivan’s teasing smirks, the way his tongue would dart out to wet his lips, and the way he’d lean in just a bit too close—

Fuck.

It only felt better knowing that Ivan was sleeping in the guest room right next to his own bedroom.

So close and yet so untouchable.

Except Ivan wasn’t sleeping.

He, too, would give in to his desires, fingers curling inside himself with a soft gasp, imagining they were Till’s long ones—those same fingers that had been brushing against him all day, teasing him relentlessly.

His mind would wander to how those fingers would feel gripping his hips, spreading him open, sliding slowly into him—

And his breath would hitch, thighs trembling, back arching off the mattress.

He’d bite down on his lip, desperately trying to muffle the sounds threatening to slip out.

But a part of him wanted Till to hear him moaning his name, breathless and needy.

And in the morning, they would, of course, never mention it.

They’d exchange shy glances, cheeks tinged pink, hearts pounding a bit too fast.

But they knew.

They knew—because why else would they always hear each other go to the bathroom so late at night just to wash their hands?

But of course, besides the sexual tension, they’d also grown more affectionate.

Because what’s the point of smacking Ivan’s ass and caressing his waist if Till can’t wrap his arms around his middle while the raven cooks—showing his gratitude through gentle gestures and soft smiles?

And what’s the point of shoving Till’s face into his chest when pulling him into a hug or whispering compliments in his ear with a seductive voice, if Ivan can’t lean his head on Till’s shoulder and hug his arm—reassuring him softly of how good he is?

When going on walks with Celeste, they’d started holding hands.

It felt natural, and neither of them questioned it—instead, they both just started treating it as the norm.

They would also sometimes fall asleep on the couch together, only to wake up in each other’s warm embrace, legs tangled.

In those quiet moments, it was easy to forget the teasing and the tension—left only with the warmth of Ivan’s breath against his skin and the steady beat of Till’s heart beneath his ear.

With how much free time Till now had—thanks to not only being on break but also having Ivan around—he could finally allow himself to engage in his hobbies.

He’d often get Ivan and Celeste to sit next to him while he played the guitar, fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings as he sang for them.

Celeste would join in eagerly, her small voice bright and cheerful, and later, she’d beg Ivan to do the same.

Till didn’t mind one bit.

Sometimes, he’d simply play a tune and let Ivan handle the singing—absolutely enchanted by the raven’s deep, rich, and velvety voice.

On some evenings, they’d even put Celeste to sleep like that, Till strumming a soft, relaxing melody while Ivan sang in a low, soothing tone.

Another passion Ivan had discovered Till had was art.

Till would sit in comfortable silence, sketching something with focused eyes while Ivan and Celeste played nearby.

Sometimes, he’d sketch the two of them—or just one—each time shyly showing the final product once it was done.

“Ah, I’ve become a bit rusty… I haven’t drawn in a long while” he’d mutter under his breath, always far too critical of himself in Ivan’s opinion—who couldn’t even draw a decent stick figure.

"It is fantastic!" Ivan would insist, grinning.

Till, predictably, would hide behind the sketchbook, ears tinged pink.

“Oh, I’ve never looked better! No really, it’s amazing. I can see where Celi got her talent from.”

Celeste, wide-eyed and awestruck, would praise his drawings too—tracing the lines with tiny fingers and grinning up at him with pride.

With their encouragement, Till began to regain his confidence in his skills, drawing even more often and with a bit more certainty.

One evening, a sudden realisation struck Ivan. “Wait… all that art at your mum’s house… was it yours?”

Till nodded, gaze fixated on the sketch he was working on. Ivan figured he was drawing him again—with how often he gazed up at him, it was hard to believe otherwise.

"Yeah, but some are also Celi’s."

Ivan hummed, lips quirking up. “Definitely the one next to the TV.”

Till huffed a soft laugh but didn’t deny it.

And then, one day, a thought crossed Till’s mind—a quiet, startling realisation that left his heart fluttering.

Truthfully, with how things were now, it was almost like they were dating.

All that affection they shared—the undeniable desire simmering between them—it was impossible to ignore.

Ivan thought so too. How could he not?

There were moments when it was just the two of them—brief, stolen moments of privacy while Celeste was busy in her room.

They tried to do something—to finally, officially get to where they wanted to be.

But, of course, these moments were usually short-lived, ending with the sound of small feet thundering down the stairs.

Celeste would appear, wide-eyed and beaming, eager to show them something she’d drawn or to ask a silly, childlike question that neither of them could refuse.

Till was starting to consider dropping Celeste off at his mum’s place for the weekend—just so he could finally confess to Ivan without interruptions.

He was so close to calling his mum but then, one afternoon, Ivan returned home with Celeste after kindergarten, her eyes bright with excitement.

The first thing the little girl said as she burst through the door was “Can I go to a sleepover?”

Chapter Text

“Alright, we’ll be there around eight p.m. Until then” Till said before hanging up.

He’d just finished talking to Celeste’s friend’s mum, and they’d both agreed to let the girls have a sleepover.

As he set the phone down, a quiet settled over the room—charged and heavy. Till glanced at Ivan, who was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed loosely. 

Without a word, they moved to pack Celeste’s things.

They worked in silence, neither of them daring to say anything about what this meant—about the fact that, with Celeste out of the house, they’d finally have complete, uninterrupted privacy.

Till’s hands trembled faintly as he folded Celeste’s favorite pajamas, and he swore he could feel Ivan’s eyes on him.

It was Ivan who broke the silence first.

“I’ll stay here and prepare dinner” he said, voice smooth, almost nonchalant. “You go drop her off.”

Till nodded, swallowing hard. 

When Till returned home, he was greeted immediately by the warm, mouthwatering aroma of food.

His heart fluttered—equal parts excitement and nerves—as he toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket, fingers trembling just a bit.

He drew in a slow breath, trying to steady himself, but it was hopeless.

All he could think about was Ivan—and what awaited him in the kitchen after all these weeks of teasing and seduction.

He didn’t know what exactly he was expecting to see.

Maybe Ivan in nothing but an apron, smirking over his shoulder. Or perhaps in lingerie, lace clinging to soft curves in a way that would make Till’s brain short-circuit. Hell, maybe he’d be the meal—laid bare on the table with whipped cream and that devilish smile of his.

The mere thought had heat crawling up Till’s neck, his steps quickening with barely concealed eagerness.

But, of course, as soon as he stepped into the kitchen, reality slapped him across the face—reminding him that he was, in fact, completely deranged.

Because Ivan was fully dressed—soft sweater, loose joggers, not a trace of seduction anywhere—and stirring peacefully in a pot on the stove, looking so effortlessly domestic that it made Till’s heart ache and his fantasies feel downright criminal.

Till stood there, momentarily dumbstruck, the absurdity of his own thoughts catching up to him with a vengeance.

Ivan glanced over his shoulder, brows arching slightly. "You’re back" he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Dinner’s almost ready."

Till’s face burned—both from the realisation of just how far gone he was and from how painfully soft Ivan looked in the golden kitchen light.

He cleared his throat, praying his voice wouldn’t betray him. “Y-Yeah” he managed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Smells good.”

Ivan’s smile widened, eyes warm “I hope you’re hungry.”

Oh, Till thought, pulse stumbling, I am. Just not for dinner.

When they finally sat down to eat, Till couldn’t help but stare at the meal before him—eyes fixed on his plate with a focus that was almost concerning.

Anything but at Ivan, who seemed so infuriatingly innocent and unbothered.

Till’s pulse was a chaotic mess beneath his skin, his palms damp where they rested against his thighs.

This wasn’t how he’d imagined things would go—not even close.

He’d been convinced that they’d end up confessing in between heated kisses—that Ivan would pull him in the second he stepped through the front door, eyes dark and hungry.

He could practically see it: Ivan pressing him up against the wall, their breaths mingling, words stuttered and raw between them.

But Ivan just—didn’t.

He served the food with a warm smile, poured Till a glass of wine, and started chatting about everything that had nothing to do with their feelings.

The weather. The movie they’d watched last week. A funny thing Celeste had said earlier. His voice was smooth, unhurried, and it didn’t sound forced at all. If anything, Ivan looked genuinely at ease—like he hadn’t spent the past few weeks driving Till to the brink of insanity.

Till’s grip on his fork tightened, heart sinking a little with each passing second.

Had he misread the situation?

His mind raced, replaying every lingering touch, every loaded look, every teasing word.

The way Ivan would lean in close, breath ghosting over his neck. The smirks, the stolen glances, the way he’d melt into Till’s touch.

All of it felt so painfully real—so how could Ivan sit there now, acting like this was just a normal dinner?

Till swallowed hard, stirring in his pasta. He couldn’t help but steal a glance at Ivan, trying to find any crack in that calm facade—anything.

But Ivan only met his eyes with a soft smile, tilting his head slightly.

“Something wrong?” he asked, voice smooth and honey-sweet.

Till’s breath stuttered. “No” he lied quickly, forcing a tight smile. “It’s—it’s good.”

Till tried to engage in the conversation—he really did.

He nodded at the right moments, hummed in vague agreement, even managed to force out a few responses that didn’t sound like the desperate, lovesick confessions stuck in his throat.

But why on earth was Ivan talking about politics?

Since when was this guy into the economic state of the world and international trade agreements? What the hell?

Till took a slow sip of his wine, praying it would steady his nerves, but it only made the absurdity of the situation even clearer.

Here he was, practically buzzing with anticipation, hands clammy and heart thundering, and Ivan was casually discussing inflation rates like they weren’t both dancing on the edge of something far more important.

He tried to be patient. He tried to nod along while Ivan explained something about foreign policies—tried to resist the urge to just reach across the table, grab him by the collar, and kiss him senseless.

But all he could think of was how soft Ivan’s lips looked in the dim light and how completely, utterly done he was with pretending they weren’t both hopelessly in love.

His fingers twitched around his fork, frustration bubbling dangerously close to the surface. Because if he had to listen to one more word about national budgets without losing his mind, he was going to—

"Ivan" Till blurted out suddenly, voice strained and tight with impatience.

Ivan paused mid-sentence, blinking at him with wide, curious eyes. “Yeah?”

Till swallowed, throat dry, heart pounding so hard it nearly drowned out the words—but God, he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“I love you” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Can we finally kiss, please?”

Ivan stared at him for a beat—long enough for Till’s face to flame and regret to wash over him.

But then Ivan’s lips curved, slow and wicked, eyes glinting with something far from innocent. Almost triumphant. 

“I won” he chirped, voice light and almost sing-song.

Till blinked, momentarily stunned out of his own embarrassment.

“What?” he asked, bewildered. “What do you mean you won?”

Ivan chuckled, leaning back in his chair with the kind of smug satisfaction that made Till’s pulse spike.

“Well” he drawled, inspecting his nails with an air of casual arrogance, “I was wondering who’d break first… and clearly, it was you.” He smirked, eyes sliding back to Till’s face. “So, I won.”

Till just stared at him, mouth parting in shock.

"Are you-" he began, voice high and disbelieving. "Are you seriously telling me that this was you teasing me too?"

Ivan’s smirk only widened.

“Of course” he said, tilting his head with mock innocence. “It was way too much fun watching you squirm. I mean-” he paused, eyes darkening with something dangerously close to hunger. “You should’ve seen your face. You looked like you were about to either cry or leap over the table and pin me down.”

Till’s breath caught, heat flooding his cheeks.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me, he thought.

His fingers trembled around the edge of his chair, the frustration that had been simmering beneath his skin suddenly boiling over into something wild and reckless.

Ivan raised an eyebrow, smirk deepening at the way Till’s jaw clenched.

“What’s wrong, Tilly?” he asked, voice syrupy-sweet and mocking.

Oh, that was it.

Till’s chair scraped harshly against the floor as he shot to his feet, sudden and forceful enough to make Ivan’s eyes widen.

He didn’t give the raven a chance to react—just strode forward, seized Ivan’s wrist, and yanked him up out of his chair with a kind of desperation that left his fingers trembling.

Ivan barely had time to gasp, hands instinctively landing on Till’s shoulders to steady himself.

“W-Wait—” he stuttered, eyes wide and startled, the earlier smugness wiped clean off his face.

But Till was done waiting.

He crowded Ivan back against the edge of the table, grip firm but not harsh, eyes dark and blazing with pent-up frustration.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” Till growled, voice low and dangerous. “Teasing me like that—playing with me?”

Ivan’s breath hitched, cheeks blooming pink but his smirk crept back quickly, a glint of mischief lighting his eyes as he pressed himself against Till.

“Oh, please” he scoffed, voice smooth and condescending. “Like you weren’t doing the exact same thing. Don’t act all innocent now.”

Till's eyes narrowed. Ivan was right. 

“Face it, Till—you were seducing me just as much as I was seducing you. The only difference is...” he leaned in, lips ghosting the shell of Till’s ear, voice dropping to a sinful murmur. “I’m just stronger than you.”

Till’s heart stuttered, pulse roaring in his ears.

Oh, this little—

“Stronger, my ass” he bit out, but the way his voice cracked halfway through kind of ruined the effect.

Ivan laughed, soft and breathless, clearly savoring every second of Till’s flustered state. “Mhm, sure” he teased, fingers curling into Till’s hair. “That’s why you’re the one who snapped first and not me, right? I thought we nonverbally agreed on making this whole thing a little competition?”

Till’s jaw clenched, frustration and desire coiling tight and hot in his stomach. Ivan was still smirking at him—still looking far too smug for someone pinned against the table with nowhere to go.

God, Till wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

“You’re a real brat, you know that?” Till growled, voice low and dangerous.

Ivan just chuckled, eyes dark and glinting, his red pupils small and focused.

“Oh, really? And what are you gonna do about it?” he purred, fluttering his eyelashes with mock innocence.

Till’s breath caught, eyes narrowing. “Keep pushing” he warned, voice tight and almost trembling with the effort of holding back. “See what happens.”

Ivan’s smirk widened, shameless and taunting.

“Oh, I’m counting on it” he murmured, gaze half-lidded and scorching.

And that— that was the final straw.

Till didn’t give Ivan a chance to keep taunting him. His hands slid up to cradle Ivan’s face, and before either of them could take another breath, he crashed their lips together—hungry, messy, and desperate.

Ivan gasped into the kiss, fingers instinctively curling into Till’s hair more tight, pulling a groan out of Till's lips. It was hot and sloppy, all teeth and tongue, weeks of tension snapping at once. Ivan melted into it, mind turning blissfully blank, a soft whimper escaping when Till’s tongue slid against his own.

Finally. Till’s head was spinning, heart pounding so hard it was a miracle he could still stand. Ivan’s lips were even softer than he’d imagined—plush and warm and so responsive it made him feel lightheaded. He could honestly cry. He wanted more—needed more—and without breaking the kiss, he slid his hands down to Ivan’s thighs and lifted him off the floor.

Ivan broke away with a startled gasp, eyes wide. “H-Hey—! Put me down!” he protested, though the way his arms instinctively wrapped around Till’s neck kind of defeated the point. “I’m heavy, you’ll—”

“Nuh-uh” Till managed, voice breathless but smug as hell. He was struggling—fuck, was he struggling—but there was no way he was giving up now. “You’re not getting away that easily.”

Ivan’s face went crimson, but he couldn’t deny how Till’s determination sent a thrill right through him. “You’re—ridiculous” he sputtered, though it came out embarrassingly weak. “You’re gonna drop me, you—”

But then Till’s lips were on his again, swallowing any further protests. Ivan whimpered, clutching at him desperately, and the way he kissed back—eager, deep, with that sinful tongue sliding between Till’s lips—had Till’s knees nearly buckling.

“Shit-” Till almost tripped over the hallway rug, stumbling forward with Ivan still clinging to him, making Ivan laugh breathlessly between kisses. Ivan was all too happy to kiss him senseless, fingers threading into his hair and tugging just enough to make him groan.

Somehow they made it to the bedroom. Till kicked the door open and practically collapsed forward, tossing Ivan onto the bed with a bit less grace than intended. 

Ivan bounced once, a soft “Oof” leaving his lips. 

For half a second, Till just hovered on top of Ivan—chest heaving, eyes fixed on him—staring like he couldn't believe his luck. Ivan's hair was a mess, lips swollen and eyes dark with desire. How could anyone look so delicious? 

“You gonna keep gawking, or what?” Ivan drawled, arching a brow with that infuriating smirk.

Till’s eyes narrowed, but the effect was ruined by how wrecked his voice came out. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that” he growled, climbing onto the bed between Ivan's legs.

Ivan snorted, voice dripping with mock innocence. “Oh, sure, I’m really terrified” he drawled, rolling his eyes. “Whatever will you do, Til—”

The rest of that sentence died in a gasp when Till’s hands slid up under his sweater, warm palms pressing against bare skin. Ivan’s breath hitched, eyes flying wide, and all that smugness vanished in an instant.

“T-Till—”

“Shh” Till hushed, voice husky and a little shaky, but his hands were steady—kneading gently, tracing over soft curves and heated flesh. He’d felt Ivan’s chest before—plenty of times, with how the raven seemed to love pulling his face right against it during hugs—but actually getting to touch, to explore, to squeeze and feel the way Ivan trembled under him? It was almost too much.

God, he didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve how soft Ivan was, how easily he melted at every squeeze, breathless little whimpers spilling from kiss-swollen lips. The way his back arched, pressing into Till’s palms, made something molten pool low in his belly.

Ivan’s fingers clutched at Till’s shoulders with a broken moan when he leaned down to mouth at the column of his neck—kissing and biting, leaving faint marks behind. His hands roamed higher, brushing over sensitive peaks, and Ivan’s hips jerked involuntarily, a gasp slipping out.

"Sensitive" Till murmured, almost to himself, and the way Ivan’s face turned crimson was delicious.

Ivan huffed but he didn’t push him away—if anything, his nails dug in a little harder, head tipping back to bare more of his throat.

Till chuckled softly, breath hot against pale skin, but his own heart was racing so fast it was a miracle he didn’t pass out. He needed more— so much more—and with fingers that were far too eager, he tugged the sweater up and over Ivan’s head, leaving the raven bare from the waist up.

He had half a second to drink in the sight before hunger and greed got the better of him and he was moving lower, hands hooking into the waistband of Ivan’s joggers and boxers in one go. Ivan yelped, hips lifting instinctively to help.

Till froze.

The sight before him knocked the breath clean out of his lungs.

He’d imagined this—had been imagining it for days, weeks, losing sleep over fantasies that had his face buried in his pillow just to muffle the sounds. But none of them—none—did justice to the reality in front of him.

Ivan lay sprawled against the sheets, hair messy and lips parted, chest heaving with every shaky breath. Pale skin flushed with a soft blush, soft curves, long legs that twitched under Till’s gaze. Like some kind of divine art piece—sculpted to perfection. Till could only stare, wide-eyed and almost dazed, fingers trembling against bare thighs.

His vision blurred without warning, and it took a moment to realise—he was crying.

“Till..?” Ivan’s voice came out small, worried. He tried to sit up, brows knitting. “Hey, what’s wrong-”

But before he could get the words out, Till was on him again—kissing him like a starved man, hands cupping his face so gently it made Ivan’s chest ache. Between desperate kisses, words tumbled out—broken and breathless and reverent.

“So beautiful—God, you’re so—can’t believe—” Till’s voice cracked, lips brushing over Ivan’s jaw, cheeks, mouth. “Don’t deserve you—don’t—”

Ivan’s eyes burned, throat tight, but all he could do was kiss back just as fiercely—fingers threading into Till’s hair, pulling him closer. “Idiot” he choked out, lips trembling around the word. “You’re such an idiot—”

“I love you” Till whispered. “Love you so much—so much—”

“Me too” Ivan whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders. “Fuck, I haven't told you yet. Love you too—”

And that was all it took for Till to break completely, swallowing Ivan’s next words in a kiss that left them both trembling.

Till's mouth moved lower, lips latching onto a nipple with a low, hungry sound. He flicked his tongue over it, sucking and biting just enough to leave faint marks, and Ivan’s back arched off the sheets with a choked moan.

“T-Till—ah—” His voice was breathless, cracking halfway through, and the way his fingers twisted in grey hair was enough to make Till’s head spin.

Ivan was so responsive—shivering and gasping at every touch, chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. Till’s hands roamed over his sides, soothing and teasing in turn, but his mouth was relentless, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses downwards.

He paused at Ivan’s stomach, tongue dipping into the soft curve of his navel just to hear the way Ivan’s breath hitched. Then he bit down gently, just enough to leave faint, blooming marks behind.

Ivan whined—high and needy—and the sound went straight to Till’s cock, making him groan.

By the time his mouth hovered over Ivan’s length, already flushed a pretty pink and leaking, his hands were trembling with need. Ivan sucked in a sharp breath, thighs instinctively spreading a bit wider, and Till’s eyes darkened at the sight.

So pretty. Perfect. Like everything about him was made to be adored, to be kissed and touched and claimed.

Till swallowed, tongue darting out to wet his lips, gaze fixated on the way Ivan’s length twitched, a bead of precum trickling down. His mouth watered at the sight.

Ivan’s cheeks flared crimson, fingers fluttering helplessly where they gripped the sheets. He squirmed, trying to close his thighs, but Till’s hands were already there—holding him gently but firmly, thumbs brushing soothing circles.

God, if he didn’t do something soon, he’d lose his mind.

With a shuddering breath, he pulled back just enough to tug his own clothes off—shrugging out of his shirt and kicking off his pants with impatiently. But even then, his eyes never left Ivan—devouring every inch of pale skin, every mark and curve and quiver.

The second he was fully bare, he leaned back in—breath hot against the flushed tip of Ivan’s length, so close that Ivan’s hips jerked with a startled gasp.

Ivan's voice broke off into a cry when Till finally leaned down and took him into his mouth.

The taste was enough to make Till’s eyes flutter shut, groaning low and needy around the heat on his tongue. Salty and sweet and so Ivan—better than anything he could’ve imagined in all those sleepless nights. He flattened his tongue, hollowing his cheeks as he took him deeper, and the way Ivan sobbed his name was nothing short of addictive.

Ivan’s thighs trembled around his head, threatening to crush it, one hand flying to bury in Till’s hair with a broken whimper. His back arched, head tipping back against the pillows, and every shaky breath was a gasp of Till’s name—pleading and breathless and wrecked.

Till took his sweet time, savoring every little sound that spilled from Ivan’s lips. Each muffled gasp, every breathless whimper was like fuel—spurring him to go faster, deeper, burying his nose in his pubic hair, drawing this out until Ivan was practically trembling beneath him.

He moved with a steady rhythm, tongue tracing over sensitive veins, cheeks hollowed with every slow drag back. His hands smoothed over Ivan’s hips, holding him down gently but firmly when his body twitched and arched, trying to buck up into the heat of Till’s mouth.

Ivan’s grip in grey hair tightened but not enough to hurt—just enough to let Till know how much he was feeling this, how close he was to coming undone.

After a while, the tension coiled tight in Ivan's stomach started to snap, and he whimpered, breath hitching on every shaky inhale. "T-Till..." he gasped, voice cracking with the warning. "I-I'm gonna—ah!—c-can't..."

But Till didn't pull back. If anything, he just sank lower, eyes fluttering shut as he took Ivan deeper, tongue tracing slow, torturous circles. Each time he went down, he made sure to inhale the musky scent of Ivan's bush, the smell addicting.

Ivan quickly realised —Till wasn’t pulling back. He was really going to—

“Oh...f-fuck—” Ivan's head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut as his thighs trembled around Till's head. His breathing turned ragged, uneven, each exhale catching on a whine.

And then he was falling apart—hips jerking helplessly, toes curling as his release hit with dizzying force. Warmth spilled onto Till’s tongue, salty and bittersweet, and Till just whimpered, swallowing around him without a hint of hesitation. He took everything Ivan gave, throat working eagerly, fingers soothing over quivering thighs.

Ivan’s mind went blank, mouth open in a soundless cry as his back arched off the bed. The pleasure was overwhelming—raw and electric, leaving him breathless and spent.

His fingers slipped from Till’s hair, body slumping bonelessly into the sheets with a shuddering exhale.

By the time Ivan’s vision cleared, chest still heaving for breath, Till was pulling back—lips red and shiny, eyes dark and half-lidded with want. His tongue flicked out to catch a stray drop at the corner of his mouth.

Till leaned up, brushing soft kisses over Ivan’s flushed cheeks, his temple, the corner of his mouth—whispering breathless praise between each one.

"So good" he murmured, voice rough and low. "You’re so, so good for me. Tasted so sweet, baby."

Ivan made a small, pleased noise, wrapping his arms gently around Till’s neck.

Once Till was done peppering soft kisses over Ivan's flushed cheeks, his nose, and the corners of his lips—earning breathless giggles that made his chest flutter—he pulled back just enough to look into Ivan's eyes. "Need to eat you out" he declared, voice rough and desperate, eyes dark with hunger.

Ivan's face turned a deeper shade of red, a small whine escaping his parted lips. "B-But" he stammered, hands coming up to press against Till's chest, albeit weakly. "I want to make you feel good now—"

But Till just huffed, capturing Ivan's lips in a slow, deep kiss that left the raven's mind spinning. "Later" he promised against his mouth, voice low and husky. "Right now, I need you to lay back and let me take care of you. Pleasuring you is more than enough for me."

Ivan's resolve crumbled instantly at that, and with a soft sigh, he sank back into the pillows, cheeks burning and eyes hazy. Before he could even process it, Till was already hooking his hands under his knees—gently spreading his legs apart and settling between them, eyes devouring every inch of exposed skin with a hunger that made Ivan shiver.

Till leaned down, resting Ivan's legs over his shoulders, and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of his thigh—lips lingering for a moment, warm breath ghosting over sensitive skin. Ivan squirmed, fingers twisting in the sheets, a shaky breath escaping him.

Then, without any further warning, Till’s mouth was on him—hot and insistent, tongue sliding over his sensitive hole with a slow, languid stroke that had Ivan's head tipping back with a broken gasp.

Ivan’s voice came out low and breathless, thighs instinctively trying to close around Till’s head, but strong hands gripped his hips, holding him open and pulling him even closer. Till groaned at the taste, eyes fluttering shut, and the vibrations made Ivan arch off the bed, a desperate whine spilling from his lips.

Till took his time, alternating between slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue and gentle sucks that had Ivan melting into the sheets, every nerve alight with pleasure. His hands smoothed over Ivan's thighs, caressing soothingly, grounding him amidst the dizzying heat.

When Ivan's voice started to crack—soft whimpers turning to breathless pleas, words slurring together with need—Till finally slid one hand down, pressing a finger in alongside his tongue. Ivan's back arched, a strangled cry escaping him, heels digging into Till’s back.

Till worked him open slowly, carefully—one finger turning into two, scissoring gently, matching the rhythm of his tongue until Ivan was a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, fingers pulling desperately at his hair.

By the time Till finally pulled back, tongue and fingers slipping out, Ivan was a wreck—chest heaving, cheeks stained red, eyes hazy with unshed tears. His legs trembled over Till's shoulders, and his hands were still tangled in soft silver hair, grip weak and trembling.

Till leaned back, licking his lips with a satisfied hum, eyes heavy-lidded and dark. He brushed soothing circles over Ivan’s hips, pressing soft kisses to his inner thighs as Ivan tried to catch his breath.

"You taste so good" Till murmured, voice rough and tender all at once, and Ivan's heart fluttered before he managed to huff out a small, impatient noise, fingers tugging weakly at Till's hair.

"Just put it in already" Ivan mumbled, voice rough and trembling slightly, but the need in his tone was unmistakable.

Till’s breath caught in his throat, a shiver rolling down his spine at the words. "Y-Yeah" he stuttered out, nodding eagerly. He reached for his nightstand to pull out a bottle of lube. He poured a generous amount onto his fingers, before coating Ivan's pink hole with it.

Then, with shaky hands, he reached down, grabbing his aching cock and lining himself up, the tip pressing against Ivan’s entrance—hot and slick and so inviting it made his head spin.

Ivan’s eyes flickered down, and for a moment, he just stared—eyes going a bit wide. A breathy, awe-struck laugh slipped past his lips. "God" he whispered, almost in disbelief, eyes flickering back up to Till's flushed face. "You're... big."

Till’s face turned a deep shade of crimson, ears burning. "D-Don't—" he started, voice cracking embarrassingly, and Ivan actually laughed—soft and a little breathless, but amused all the same.

But then Ivan’s legs tightened around his waist, heels digging in a little, urging him forward.

Till sucked in a shaky breath, fingers digging into Ivan’s thighs as he began to press in, slow and careful.

Every inch deeper felt like heaven and hell all at once, and Till's vision blurred, head tipping back with a strangled moan. Ivan’s hands smoothed over his shoulders, breath hitching and back arching beneath him, soft gasps and whimpers spilling from his lips.

By the time Till bottomed out, fully seated inside, his arms were trembling, elbows nearly buckling from the sheer, overwhelming heat and tightness. He managed a single, shallow thrust—barely pulling out an inch before his body betrayed him completely.

His eyes squeezed shut, a broken moan tearing from his throat as he came—hot and sudden and way too soon, pleasure slamming into him so hard his knees almost gave out.

Horrified, Till's eyes snapped open, face going beet red as realisation dawned on him. "I—wait, I didn't—oh my God—" he stammered, voice high and panicked.

Meanwhile, Ivan just stared at him for a moment—eyes wide, cheeks flushed—before he slapped a hand over his mouth, a choked wheeze of laughter escaping. His shoulders shook with the effort to hold it back, but it was useless—he dissolved into breathless snickers, eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Oh my God" Ivan wheezed between laughs, chest heaving, eyes glinting with mischief. "You—seriously?"

"Shut up!" Till croaked, face burning hotter than ever. "I—I didn't mean to—it's been a while, okay?!"

Ivan arched a brow, amusement clear in his eyes even as he tried to smother his giggles. "A while?" he echoed, lips twitching. "How long is a while, exactly?"

Till looked anywhere but at Ivan's smug grin, swallowing thickly. "...Over six years" he mumbled eventually, voice barely above a whisper.

Ivan blinked at that, the laughter in his eyes softening into something a bit more understanding—though the smirk remained firmly in place. "Well, that explains it" he hummed, amusement lacing his tone. "No time for fun with how busy you've been, huh?"

Till groaned, burying his face in the crook of Ivan’s neck in pure mortification, arms wrapping around him to hide from the world. "You'll never gonna let me live this down..." he mumbled, voice muffled and miserable.

Ivan just chuckled, fingers carding soothingly through Till’s hair, the affectionate gesture almost too much to handle. "Don’t worry" he murmured, voice warm.

Till's breath hitched, face burning, and Ivan laughed again—soft and fond, hands tracing gentle patterns over his back.

Once Till's breathing steadied and the mortification faded just enough, Ivan's fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently. His eyes were half-lidded, lips parted, and there was a glint impatience.

"Gonna keep me waiting now?" Ivan breathed, voice low and sultry, practically purring into Till's ear.

Till shivered, fingers flexing against Ivan’s waist. "Ugh, just..." he stammered, still reeling, but Ivan only chuckled, the sound dark and sweet and entirely unfair.

"You really have no idea, do you?" Ivan murmured, dragging his nails lightly down Till's back. "How many nights I spent touching myself, imagining you doing this to me? How often I thought about your hands, your mouth, your cock..."

Till choked on a breath, face flaming, eyes squeezing shut as if that could stop the images from flooding his mind. His heart was pounding so hard he could barely hear anything else, and he felt dangerously close to tears again—because damn it, Ivan was evil.

"S-Stop—" Till tried weakly, voice cracking, but Ivan only smirked wider, pressing his lips to the shell of Till’s ear. "Make me."

And that—well. That did it.

Till swallowed thickly, gathering the last shreds of his sanity as he pulled back just enough to move his hips, testing. Ivan’s breath hitched, lashes fluttering, and when he let out a soft, breathless moan—so pretty—Till’s mind went blank, instincts taking over.

His movements were slow at first, almost tentative—each thrust shallow and uncertain—but Ivan’s fingers dug into his back, encouraging, and the soft, sweet sounds he made went straight to Till’s head and dick.

"That’s it" Ivan sighed, voice trembling with every push. "You're doing so well— you feel so good, so big—"

Till found himself moving faster, more confident, hips snapping forward with enough force to knock the air from Ivan’s lungs.

Ivan’s head tipped back against the pillows, lips parted around broken cries of pleasure, hands sliding up to grip at Till’s shoulders, nails biting into his skin. His moans grew louder, more shameless, love confessions spilling from his lips in between gasps.

"I love you—love you so much—ah, Till—"

Till’s chest ached, throat tight with emotion he could barely swallow down. He buried his face in Ivan’s neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his collarbone, his jaw, anywhere he could reach, unable to form words thanks to the overwhelming pleasure. 

His hands slid beneath Ivan’s thighs, pushing his legs higher, spreading him open wider until Ivan was practically folded in half—vulnerable and beautiful and all his.

The position made Ivan shudder, a broken moan tearing from his throat as his back arched off the bed, eyes hazy and unfocused.

And then a thought—a terrible, filthy thought—crossed Till's mind, and he flushed all the way down to his chest, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

But the idea wouldn’t leave, and before he could stop himself, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of Ivan’s ear.

"Wish I could get you pregnant" he breathed, voice low and wrecked, almost a growl. "Fill you up and keep you all mine."

The effect was instant. Ivan’s eyes went wide, crimson pupils blown and cheeks burning red. He let out a high, choked cry, body tensing and thighs trembling as he came—hard—white streaks painting his stomach.

Till’s eyes widened, taken aback. 

A grin—slow and wicked—spread across Till’s face. His hips stuttered for a moment before resuming, this time with a different goal entirely.

"Oh" Till purred, voice low and dark, leaning down until his breath ghosted over Ivan’s flushed ear. "Didn’t know you were into stuff like that... But I—ah—should've expected it"

Ivan whined, hiding his face in the crook of Till’s neck. "S-Stop..." he gasped, voice muffled and breathless.

But Till only chuckled, pressing kisses to Ivan’s cheek, his jaw, his ear—each one soft and affectionate, a sharp contrast to the way his hips kept rolling, pushing deep and fast.

"No way" he groaned, grin widening. "You had your fun earlier, didn’t you? Being a brat and teasing me nonstop. Now it’s my turn."

Ivan’s only response was a choked sob of pleasure, back arching and nails digging into Till’s shoulders, and Till couldn’t help the satisfied hum that slipped past his lips.

Till's breath was ragged, lips parted as he pulled back just enough to drink in the sight beneath him—Ivan, flushed and gorgeous, eyes glazed and cheeks streaked with tears. His hands trembled where they gripped Ivan’s thighs, keeping them spread wide, and his hips moved on their own, thrusts deep and deliberate.

The desperate little whimpers spilling from Ivan’s lips made Till’s head spin, every breathless "please" and "more" winding tight in his gut until he thought he’d die. His mind was a haze of need, raw and overwhelming, but one thought cut through the fog, clear and hungry and impossible to ignore.

He wanted to fill him.

Till’s hips snapped forward, harder, deeper, drawing a gasping sob from Ivan’s throat. "Gonna—fuck—gonna fill you up" he growled, voice rough and shaking with barely held-back desperation. "Want you dripping with my—agh..! With my cum"

Ivan choked on a moan, head tipping back against the pillows, nails digging so deep into Till's skin it was a wonder he wasn't bleeding yet. Ivan's eyes fluttered, pretty lashes wet with tears.

"Y-Yes—!" he sobbed, voice high and breathless, back arching off the bed. "Please—want it—want your cum, oh please—"

Till groaned, vision blurring at the edges as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to Ivan’s chest. "You want it, huh?" he rasped, voice dark and sweet. "Wanna get all swollen with my baby? That it? Want to give Celeste a sibling? "

The effect was immediate—Ivan’s eyes went wide, a choked cry tearing from his lips. The shame was gone, burned away by raw, helpless need, and he could only nod, breath hitching as more tears spilled down his flushed cheeks.

"Y-Yes—yes, please—" he babbled, the words breaking into a sob. "I'll be a good daddy—I promise!"

Till’s heart clenched, the warmth blooming in his chest too much to contain. His hips moved faster, deeper, every thrust hitting just right and drawing those sweet, broken sounds from Ivan’s lips—so perfect, so pretty, all his.

"Fuck—Ivan..." Till gasped, voice cracking, hands sliding down to grip Ivan’s waist, pulling him closer, deeper.

And when Ivan stared at him with big, pleading eyes, lips parted around a soundless cry, Till’s control shattered. His hips stuttered, thrusts turning erratic, and with a broken groan, he buried himself as deep as he could go, fingers bruising against soft skin.

White-hot pleasure ripped through him, overwhelming and all-consuming, and Till came with a choked gasp, vision going white. He pressed in as far as he could, hips flush against Ivan’s, making sure every drop stayed buried deep inside.

"I-I love you" he breathed, voice cracking and raw, barely more than a whimper. His lips found Ivan’s ckeek, pressing soft, trembling kisses there between gasps for air.

Ivan’s eyes fluttered closed, lips trembling. "I love you too..." he sobbed, voice small and shaky, arms wrapping tight around Till’s shoulders. And then he shuddered, back arching off the bed as he came untouched, clenching around Till with a broken, breathless cry.

Till caressed his waist softly, keeping him steady as Ivan’s body trembled through the aftershocks, overwhelmed and shivering.

They stayed like that for a moment, bodies tangled and hearts racing, the room warm and quiet save for their ragged breathing.

Ivan nuzzled instinctively into Till’s neck, breath warm against his skin. Till’s chest tightened at the gesture, the tenderness in it, and he wrapped his arms around Ivan, holding him close and pressing soft kisses to his cheek, lips, jaw, anywhere he could reach.

"You’re perfect" Till whispered, voice soft and wrecked, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of Ivan’s head. "So beautiful—can’t believe you’re mine—"

Ivan’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, a soft, sleepy huff escaping his lips. "I could say the same thing" he mumbled weakly.

Till chuckled, burying his face in Ivan’s neck, breathing him in. 

Finally, after a while, Till pulled out, making Ivan whine softly at the loss of warmth. Till pressed a kiss to his temple, whispering quiet apologies, hands gentle as they smoothed over Ivan’s sides, trying to soothe the trembles that hadn’t quite faded.

They stayed like that for a moment, tangled and breathless, until Till murmured something about getting them cleaned up. Ivan, too tired to argue, let himself be gathered up in Till's arms, leaning into the warmth of his body with a contented sigh.

The bath was quiet. Till took his time, running a washcloth over Ivan’s skin with delicate care, pressing lazy kisses to his shoulder and neck. Ivan’s eyes fluttered closed, cheeks still faintly pink, and he leaned back against Till’s chest.

Ivan’s heart stuttered with every touch, warmth blooming under his skin until he thought he might melt.

When they finally got out, towel-dried and dressed in fresh clothes, Till reheated the pasta they’d abandoned earlier. 

They ended up on the couch, nuzzled up close under a thick blanket, a movie playing quietly in the background while they ate. Once they finished eating, Ivan stretched out with a soft sigh, pulling Till down to rest his head on his chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns along his spine.

Till’s eyes were heavy, lashes fluttering as he struggled to keep them open. The steady rise and fall of Ivan’s chest beneath his cheek was soothing, his warmth all-encompassing, and it didn’t take long for the exhaustion to settle in, limbs turning heavy and eyelids drooping.

“Tired” Till muttered eventually, voice slurred and muffled against Ivan’s chest.

Ivan huffed, lips quirking into a sleepy smile. “Me too” he admitted, carding his fingers gently through Till’s hair, before grabbing the remote off the coffee table and turning off the TV. 

Till's bed was a lost cause—completely ruined and stained, and neither of them had the energy to go upstairs anyway. So, they just stayed like that. 

Ivan’s fingers were still carding through his hair, soft and rhythmic, and his chest rumbled with a sleepy hum. “What time do we have to pick up Celeste tomorrow?” he mumbled, voice low and drowsy.

“Around three” Till slurred, already halfway asleep.

Ivan hummed again, the vibration of it warm and soothing, and after a moment, his hand slowed, finally coming to rest between Till’s shoulder blades. 

They drifted off like that, limbs tangled and warm beneath the blanket, soft breaths mingling.

Chapter Text

Ivan woke up slowly, eyes fluttering open to soft morning light filtering in through the curtains. His body ached in a upmost satisfying way, making a satisfied hum vibrate in his throat. 

Till was still tucked close against him, face buried in the crook of Ivan’s neck, one arm draped lazily over his waist. His breaths were slow and even, warm puffs against Ivan’s skin, and his fingers twitched slightly where they rested against Ivan’s side, like even in sleep he couldn’t quite let go.

A soft smile tugged at Ivan’s lips, and he couldn’t help but lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Till’s head. His hair was soft, a little messy from sleep, and Ivan’s chest squeezed at the warmth that spread through him, the urge to bite him and squeeze him tight almost overwhelming.

Till stirred at the kiss, eyelids fluttering before he blinked up at Ivan blearily, eyes heavy with sleep. He let out a low hum, voice rough and warm. “Mornin'...” he mumbled, nuzzling a bit closer, nose brushing against Ivan’s collarbone. “You just woke up?”

Ivan chuckled softly, fingers tracing gentle circles along Till’s back. “Yeah” he admitted, voice a little scratchy.

Till sighed, the sound content and lazy, eyes slipping closed for a moment. “Mmh, me too, a few minutes ago” he murmured, voice slurred with leftover drowsiness. “Didn’t wanna move. Too comfortable.”

Ivan’s smile softened, fingers smoothing over the back of Till’s neck. “Sappy” he teased lightly, though the fondness in his tone was unmistakable.

Till just huffed, lips twitching into a lazy grin. “Shut up” he muttered, but his voice was warm, the words lacking any real bite. His fingers curled a little tighter at Ivan’s waist, holding him close.

They stayed like that for a while, limbs tangled beneath the blanket.

After a bit more lazy cuddling on the couch, they eventually dragged themselves to the kitchen, sore from the night before but grinning, to make breakfast, the room soon filled with the soft clatter of plates and the warm smell of coffee.

Suddenly, Till cleared his throat awkwardly, his fingers fumbling nervously. Ivan raised a brow, smirking a bit. “What’s up with you?” he asked, voice still a bit scratchy with sleep.

Till’s face was already turning red, and he forced himself to look anywhere but at Ivan.

“Nothing, just...” Till began, voice wavering just a bit. He cleared his throat again, cheeks already tinged pink. “About what you said last night… you know—about wanting a… a baby.”

Ivan’s entire face turned a deep shade of crimson. For a solid second, he froze, spatula suspended mid-air. His eyes widened before he scoffed dramatically, rolling his eyes.

“Oh my god, are you kink-shaming me right now?” he huffed, tone light but eyes still wide and cheeks impossibly red.

Till nearly choked on air, ears turning bright red. “Wha—no! That’s not—” he sputtered, flustered beyond belief. “That’s not it at all!”

Ivan burst into laughter, leaning against the counter for support, shoulders shaking, clearly enjoying how flustered Till was. “Calm down” he teased. “God, you’re so easy to mess with.”

Till groaned, covering his face with one hand. “You’re evil” he muttered miserably, voice muffled behind his palm.

"But seriously," Ivan continued, ignoring Till's remark "if you’re that desperate to put a baby in me, you’re gonna have to defy biology." His smirk was wide and playful. "It’d probably take quite a few creampies, and I dunno if your old ass can manage."

Till’s eyes narrowed, glare fierce but cheeks blazing. “I'm not old” he grumbled, genuinely offended. “And that’s not— God, that’s not what I meant.”

Ivan just snickered, stirring the eggs in the pan with a wiggle of his brows. “Oh? Then what did you mean, Mr. I-Wanna-Knock-You-Up?”

The glare softened, and Till took a breath, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. The joke lingered in the air, but the shift in his expression was unmistakable—nervous, a little scared, but determined.

“I meant” Till muttered, voice quieter now, almost shy, “if you… y’know, wanted to be Celeste’s dad. Like, officially.” His eyes were fixed firmly on the floor, refusing to look up.

For a moment, there was only the faint crackle of eggs cooking, the tension in the room winding tight.

Ivan blinked once, then twice, lips parting in shock. And then he growled, smacking Till’s arm with the spatula—hard enough to sting a decent amount. “You absolute idiot!” he half-yelled, eyes shining. “Of course I want to! I thought that was obvious!”

Till flinched, eyes wide with panic, ears going scarlet. “H-Hey! Ow—what—why are you mad?!” he yelped, bewildered and a little terrified. He's never had Ivan glaring or yelling at him before and it was actually scary.

Ivan huffed, cheeks still burning, eyes narrowed. “Because you’re an idiot!” he snapped. "Ugh, really, you —" He cut himself off, flustered and irritated, fingers trembling where they gripped the spatula.

Till’s heart skipped a beat, eyes wide and overwhelmed. “I just… wanted to double-check” he mumbled, voice small. “Before dumping such a role and responsibility on you…”

Ivan’s expression softened at that, frustration melting into something unbearably fond. He sighed, setting the spatula down to wrap his arms around Till’s waist, pulling him close. “You’re such an idiot...” he muttered, lips brushing the shell of Till’s ear. “But fine, I forgive you. Stupid Till.”

Till relaxed, arms coming up to hold Ivan tight, a relieved breath leaving his lungs. “Thanks...” he mumbled, face buried in Ivan’s shoulder, ears still pink.

Ivan just huffed, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Yeah, yeah. Now shut up and go set the table.”

Later that afternoon, they were driving to pick up Celeste from her sleepover. Once she stepped into the car, it was filled with the excited chatter of the little girl, her voice high-pitched with excitement as she recounted every detail of her time with her best friend.

"And then we made friendship bracelets, and I taught Emma how to braid her hair!" Celeste’s voice bubbled over with excitement.

Till and Ivan looked at her in the rearview mirror. They couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Celeste so animated, so full of life. Their hearts were light, but they knew there was something important that had to happen once they got home. 

As they pulled into the driveway and helped Celeste out of the car, the two men exchanged a silent look—the air around them felt thick, full of nerves.

Once they were inside and had undressed from their outside clothes, Ivan turned to Celeste, his expression soft but serious. "Celeste" Ivan said slowly as they slowly walked to the living room, "there’s something we need to talk to you about."

Celeste tilted her head, sensing the shift in the room before sitting down on the couch. Her small brows furrowed in curiosity, but she waited quietly as she rocked from side to side. Till sat beside her on the couch, and Ivan joined them. Both men seemed to be sharing a look of quiet determination, unsure of how to start. Till squeezed Ivan’s hand, trying to give him strength. Ivan took a deep breath.

“Celeste, sweetie, we... we want to tell you something very important.” His voice softened as he spoke, though his nerves were visible in the way his hands fidgeted. 

Ivan took another deep breath, glancing at Till one more time before focusing back on Celeste. His heart pounded in his chest, but her wide, curious eyes gave him the courage to push forward.

“Till and I… we love each other” Ivan finally said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “Not just as friends, but the kind of love that means we want to spend our lives together.”

Celeste’s face lit up immediately, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You love Papá?” she gasped, clapping her hands together.

Till let out a breathy chuckle as he reached out to grab Ivan's hand gently before squeezing a little. 

“I do” Ivan confirmed, his lips curling into a soft smile. “Very much.”

Celeste’s face lit up in delight as she bounced a little in her seat. Then, with an eager grin, she asked, “Does that mean you’ll be my daddy too?”

Ivan’s breath hitched, his vision blurring slightly as his chest tightened with overwhelming emotion. The sheer innocence and hope in her voice shattered any doubt he had. His hands shook slightly as he reached forward, gently pulling Celeste into his arms.

“Oh my little girl...” he murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. “I would love to be your daddy. And I promise I’ll do my best.”

Celeste giggled against his shoulder, wrapping her little arms around his neck in a tight hug. “You already are the best!” she declared confidently.

Ivan let out a shaky laugh, holding her close as a few tears slipped free. Till reached over, wrapping his arms around both of them.

✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Celeste was absolutely over the moon. From that moment on, Ivan was no longer just 'Ivan' to her—he was Dad, Daddy, and Appa, a mix of affectionate names that made Ivan’s heart swell every time he heard them.

Till made sure to reinforce it at every opportunity.

"Go ask Appa" he'd say casually when Celeste wanted something.

"Daddy said you need to brush your teeth before bed" he'd remind her.

"What did Dad pack you for lunch today?" he'd ask, watching as Celeste beamed, showing off whatever snack Ivan had slipped into her lunchbox.

Not that he even needed to encourage her—Celeste was already bragging about it to anyone who would listen.

At kindergarten, she made sure all her friends knew: "I have two dads now! And they’re both super famous!" Her teachers, amused, had to gently remind her to use her 'inside voice'.

Till and Ivan couldn't help but laugh whenever Celeste came home, excitedly reporting that her friends thought it was so cool that she had two famous dads.

Ivan, for his part, was overwhelmed but endlessly touched. Every time Celeste called him Appa his heart just melted. It wasn't unusual for her to reach for his hand without thinking, or curl up next to him even before. But knowing she did all of this now when she had officially acknowledged him as her dad made him cry at night happily next to Till who would usually cry with him in their shared overwhelming joy.

Of course, Io knew aswell.

They had barely finished explaining everything to Celeste before Till was already dialing his mother. Ivan, meanwhile, was having a minor crisis.

Sure, Io had seemed to like him when they first met, but that was different. That was just as Till’s friend, as Celeste’s babysitter—would she really be okay with him as her son’s boyfriend? As Celeste’s other dad?

Till put the phone on speaker, and before Ivan could spiral too much, Io’s voice rang through the line, bright and excited. "So, when's the wedding? And should I start expecting more grandkids soon?"

Ivan nearly choked. Till groaned. "Mum, please."

"What? I waited long enough—I should be allowed to celebrate."

Ivan, still recovering from his near-death experience, tried to process what she just said. "Wait—waited?"

Io hummed. "Oh yes, dear. I told Till to make a move after you both visited. Honestly, I thought he’d take even longer." 

Till grumbled something about everyone being too invested in his love life, but Ivan could barely hear him over his own disbelief. "Ma’am-" he started, only to be immediately cut off.

"Mum, dear" Io corrected sweetly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ivan blinked, feeling oddly, deeply touched. "Mum, then…" He swallowed. "You only knew me for what, two hours then?"

"A mother’s instinct" Io declared like it was a divine gift.

Till rolled his eyes, but Ivan felt warmth bloom in his chest. Then, Io’s voice turned firm. "Now, you’re both visiting this weekend. Non-negotiable."

Till sighed, but he was smiling. "Yeah, yeah, we’ll be there."

Ivan? Still processing.

He had gone from fearing his boyfriend’s mother to somehow gaining another one in a single phone call.

Ivan had never thought of his own mother as a bad mother. But warmth had never really been her strong suit. Neither her nor his father had been cruel—just… distant. Raising him had always felt more like a chore than a joy.

He didn’t hate them for it, but sometimes, he wished there had been more softness in their relationship.

Now, somehow, Io was filling that gap.

She treated him like he was her own, fussing over him, calling him son, and making sure to very clearly acknowledge him as Celeste’s father. It was subtle sometimes, but it never went unnoticed.

Like when she visited some days later and sat down beside Celeste, who was busy drawing at the coffee table. "What are you drawing, Celi?" Io asked, watching with fond curiosity.

Celeste beamed. "Appa!" she declared proudly before pausing, her face scrunching in dissatisfaction. "But something is missing…"

Io hummed, tilting her head. Then, she pointed at the drawing with certainty. "You forgot your daddy’s snaggletooth."

Celeste’s eyes lit up in realisation. "Ohhh, right!" She hurriedly grabbed a crayon, giggling as she added the tiny detail.

Ivan had also been dying to tell Mizi and Hyuna. Not just because they were his close friends, but because he knew they deserved to know. They had been there for him, listened to him whine about his crush.

Oh, and Luka too—just to rub it in his face. The blonde had called him delusional too many times for Ivan not to throw this in his smug face.

And just like that, the perfect opportunity arrived.

Till and Ivan dropped Celeste off at Io’s house before heading to the restaurant where everyone agreed to meet for a spontaneous company dinner Mizi had planned. 

The moment they stepped inside, they were immediately greeted by excited voices.

"We haven’t heard anything from you two since forever!" Mizi lightly scolded, hands on her hips as she looked at them expectantly.

Hyuna crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, what have you guys been up to?"

Ivan and Till exchanged a look.

The moment Ivan and Till dropped the news, chaos erupted.

"No way!" Hyuna practically yelled, eyes wide in shock. Mizi, on the other hand, squealed excitedly, clapping her hands together.

Across the table, Luka just stared, his eyes big and disbelieving. Ivan met his gaze and shot him a triumphant look—the kind that screamed “Told you so.”

Sua, who had been quietly observing the excitement, gave a small nod of approval. "I can actually see Ivan being a good dad."

Ivan nearly choked on his drink. He respected Sua a lot, so hearing that from her? It meant everything.

Mizi let out a chuckle, leaning back in her chair. "You know, it’s actually kinda funny—and also insanely impressive—that Till managed to keep an entire daughter a secret for so long."

Till just shrugged. "It wasn’t that hard."

The table fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the energy still buzzing from the excitement.

Then, Mizi cleared her throat. "Hey, um…" she started, a little quieter now. "Can I redirect the conversation real quick?"

Everyone turned their attention to her, curiosity piqued. She took a deep breath before finally blurting it out "Sua and I started dating!"

For a split second, no one said anything. Then—

"What?!" Hyuna and Ivan practically screamed in delight, their voices overlapping in an explosion of excitement.

Till nodded approvingly, a small smile on his lips. "Nice."

Luka simply gave them a genuine smile—the kind that said, "I’m happy for you".

Life had become something beyond beautiful.

Even Luka and Hyuna had finally gotten together, despite Hyunwoo’s dramatic grumbling about it. And the first ones to marry? Till and Ivan.

Years later, Ivan could still recall every single detail of that day with stunning clarity—the way his clothes felt perfectly tailored against his skin, the warmth of Till’s hands as they clutched his like a lifeline, the overwhelming rush of emotions as their lips met at the altar. 

Celeste had looked so proud as the flower girl, carefully tossing petals down the aisle, beaming as though she had the most important job in the world. 

And Till? His Tilly? Handsome in his suit, completely smitten, and an absolute mess. He had started crying before the vows had even begun, trying to hold back his tears but failing miserably.

He wasn’t alone in that, though. Io and Mizi had clung to each other, both openly sobbing, despite having only met that day. Sua, ever the composed one, had tried to keep her tears discreet, dabbing at them with a tissue, but Ivan saw through it.

Even Ivan’s parents had surprised him by showing up—somehow, they had found time for him. And even more surprising? They were warm. Affectionate, even. They left before the reception though, but this was still enough. 

He could still hear the laughter and music from the reception, the sheer happiness radiating from every guest.

It was, without a doubt, the best day of his life.

Till remembered everything, too.

He remembered the pure joy on Ivan’s face as he danced with everyone—especially with Celeste, twirling the little girl around like she was the center of the universe. 

He remembered the way Ivan’s eyes lit up when he tasted their wedding cake, his pride barely contained as he boasted about choosing the perfect flavor.

Most of all, Till remembered Celeste crawling onto his lap, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck as she grinned up at him and declared, with absolute certainty "I have the best daddies in the world!"

And somehow, after Celeste was sent home with Io—who had insisted she was far too old to be part of such loud, chaotic celebrations—Ivan had ended up getting so drunk that he had a full-blown twerking competition with Hyuna.

It was wonderful. 

Both of them also remembered their wedding night and honeymoon vividly. From the moment they were alone, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Despite all the carefully planned activities and sightseeing, they spent most of their time tangled up in their hotel room, making love over and over again.

Was it worth it? Absolutely.

Because the moment they returned home to Celeste, reality hit them—there wouldn’t be many chances to be that loud and nasty again. Not with their little girl sleeping just a room away.

They would rather suffer in silence—rather blue-ball each other—than risk traumatising her.

And more kids? That was definitely a possibility they had agreed on.

But the moment Celeste mentioned one day, with stars in her eyes, that she thought having siblings would be so much fun, it immediately became a must.

Till, being Till, tried—oh, he tried—to defy biology, no matter how many times Ivan laughed at him for being ridiculous. He was determined, convinced that if he just tried hard and often enough, maybe, just maybe, he could get Ivan pregnant.

But, alas, his sperm was not special.

So, adoption it was. And soon, their family grew—two daughters and a son. Their home was filled with even more love, laughter, and just the right amount of chaos.

Every time Ivan or Till brought up the story of how they got together, Celeste and their son and middle child, Astro, would giggle excitedly, always eager to hear more.

Their eldest daughter, Eun-Ju, on the other hand, would roll her eyes and act unimpressed. But they all knew the truth—deep down, she was a romantic, just like Till.

Life wasn’t always perfect. There were ups and downs, arguments and punishments, moments of frustration and stubborn silence.

But the love never wavered. Their home remained warm and bright, filled with laughter, care, and the kind of tenderness that made everything—every struggle, every challenge—worth it.