#troye sivan is *28*

[hey-hey-j]

infinitely hilarious to me that Justin Timberlake is the oldest BroZone voice actor

[fandom-alley]

Little blog post about my bday yesterday under the cut because I rambled and it got long. I chat about getting older, thrifting for DVD's, and wanting to start a Criminal Mind's podcast chat.

Yesterday was my birthday. It was very low-key and relaxing but didn't really feel like a birthday. I guess that's to be expected as you continue to get older though. I'm 28 now, and this was my first birthday back home in 7 years because I had previously worked at a hotel 4 hours away from my hometown. It was a small place in northern Ontario, and all the staff lived in the one of 3 staff houses. So you become friends pretty quickly and they were always so great about celebrating birthdays and throwing parties. But I'm not a party person, so this relaxing birthday was pretty fantastic.

My friend came over and we made some low fat cinnamon rolls and went for a walk where we talked about how anxious we were feeling after applying to jobs. And then about an hour after she left I got an email that I was selected for a group interview for a flight attendant position out of Toronto! (cue more anxiety lol)

And then I went to the thrift stores looking for Criminal Mind's DVDs. Side note, Value Village is a scam these days. They had season 2 for $8 but it was missing a disk. And then the other location had seasons 1, 2, 3, and 4, but they had taken them out of their boxes and were selling them individually for $5 each. It was cheaper for me to buy a used copy of seasons 2 and 3 on Amazon. I'm going to check the yard sale markets next weekend for any copies, before checking the 400 market, which is basically a huge indoor yard sale that usually has DVD stands, but a bit more pricey.

Then to end the night, I decided to start watching Criminal Minds again. I only made it through episode one before I got too tired to pay attention. But, I took a few notes while watching because I want to start a podcast chat about the show and everything that I hadn't noticed my first time watching. And just share love for the cast and characters and creators and hopefully have other fans chat with me as well about their favourite episodes and what not.

[jayflrt]

yours forever in 786

PAIRING ▸ private investigator!jay park x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ social media au (smau), smut, fluff, angst, mystery, drama, enemies to lovers au, college au, rich kid au

SUMMARY ▸ after being blackmailed into accepting an assignment, jay park, a young private detective, is thrown back into college. this time, though, he’s at an ivy league and tasked to follow you to uncover what dark secrets your old money family is hiding. in doing this, jay must fraternize with your inner circle by joining a secret society called the "order of kryptos.” what he doesn’t realize is that the deeper he gets into his mission, the more he starts to lose himself.

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, slowburn, alcohol/drug consumption, portrayals of addiction, sexual jokes, sexual content, betrayals!! backstabbing!!, toxic relationships, order of kryptos isn’t a real secret society but heavily inspired by the ivy league secret societies, emotional cheating (BOOOO! not from mc or jay tho), jay and mc have a small age gap (2 years), most of the characters are pretty toxic so please note that this is not attune to their real life personalities at ALL

UPDATE SCHEDULE ▸ every day

PLAYLIST ▸ fatal trouble by enhypen • still sane by lorde • this is what makes us girls by lana del rey • too good by troye sivan • paparazzi by lady gaga • old money by lana del rey • i was never there by the weeknd, gesaffelstein • prisoner by the weeknd, lana del rey

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! i’m back with another smau but this one’s less lighthearted and more heavy ? sort of an experiment let's see how it goes, but hope u enjoy and lmk what u think !! ♡

CHATROOMS !

TEASER

PROFILES ONE | TWO

ACT ONE: THE TRANSFER

01. skip tracer to millionaire pipeline

02. besties with testes

03. who the fuck is princessyuna

04. the world of the elite

05. please don't the tom nook

06. standing on business (vlog boycott)

07. friend (noun.) not heeseung

08. boo boo the fool

09. professional haters debut

10. 21 jump street for nepo babies

11. how to not bleed to death

12. jay/n train

13. leather jacket

14. no goodbye sucks or fucks

15. ugly truths

16. girlfriend but the girl is silent

17. justice for stress shitters

18. alcohol shortage when

ACT TWO: THE INVITATION

19. attention seeker

20. and there was one bed

21. every boy for himself

22. rhymes with loona

23. out-testosteroned

24. white lies

25. heart-to-heart

26. the athenaeum

27. sock sock shoe shoe

28. group ass fucking

29. post defamation dinner date

30. final verdict

31. do you have time to talk about our lord and savior

32. tap to get tapped back

33. mad as fuck (the remix)

34. in too deep

35. change my world

36. provisional fight club

37. go piss girl

38. girlhood won

39. we can't do this

40. pledge week

41. babygirls with daddy issues

42. they must be really good friends

43. hot jay summer

44. dangerous entanglements

45. the fifth interview candidate

UNCUTS !

TBD.

ONGOING 7/29/24

[transform4u]

Just for Laughs

This story is heavily inspired, by the now defunct bouncyboytfs story, Straight Up Comedy. Which was one of my favorites of all time and got me into writing. The neon lights of West Hollywood flickered against the night sky, casting a vibrant glow over the bustling streets. Calvin Andrews, a 28-year-old grad student with a quick smile and a penchant for lively debates with online trolls defending the so called woke agenda, navigated through the Friday night crowd with an air of anticipation. Dressed in a casual yet stylish ensemble—a vintage band tee under a light denim jacket paired with slim-fit jeans and worn-in Chuck Taylors—he exuded the laid-back confidence of someone comfortable in their own skin.

Calvin had grown to love the sunny West Coast since leaving his East Coast hometown, finding a vibrant new community at UCLA where he pursued his dual passions in English and Gender Studies. His professors often praised his sharp intellect and unwavering dedication to his studies, qualities that were fueled by a deep-seated belief in social justice and equality. His love for literature spanned from the canonical works of Virginia Woolf and James Baldwin to contemporary voices like Roxane Gay and Audre Lorde, whose writings inspired his activism and shaped his worldview.

Outside of academia, Calvin was a prominent figure in UCLA’s LGBTQ+ community, serving proudly as the president of the Gay-Straight Alliance. Advocating for inclusivity and understanding, he dedicated himself to fostering a supportive environment where everyone could thrive. Music was another cornerstone of Calvin's life, his eclectic taste ranging from indie-pop sensations like Troye Sivan and Florence + the Machine to the introspective melodies of Sufjan Stevens.

Tonight, however, Calvin was eager to unwind and reconnect with friends over drinks in West Hollywood. Yet, unfamiliar with the labyrinthine streets, he found himself wandering off course as his phone battery dwindled. Spotting a promising glow ahead, he approached a lively bar, hoping for directions or at least a place to charge his phone.

Inside the dimly lit establishment, Calvin was greeted by the no-nonsense bartender who offered to charge his phone in exchange for staying to watch the comedy show and ordering a drink. Annoyed but realizing he had little choice, Calvin relented and requested a Vodka Cranberry, only to be met with a dismissive comment about "girly drinks." Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he opted for a whiskey neat, settling into a seat as the bartender tended to his phone.

As he sipped his drink, Calvin’s attention was drawn to the stage where the next comedian made his entrance. A tall, muscular figure with a rugged charm and a broad smile, the comedian commanded attention with his Southern drawl and easy charisma. His dark hair was tousled, framing a face that radiated warmth and mischief in equal measure. Dressed in a simple black shirt and jeans, he exuded a casual confidence that immediately intrigued Calvin.

The crowd erupted into laughter as the comedian launched into his set, weaving anecdotes with razor-sharp wit and a touch of raunchy humor.

As the comedian delved deeper into his set, Calvin's initial intrigue turned swiftly into dismay. What began as harmless humor quickly morphed into a barrage of misogynistic and homophobic jokes that cut through the air with a venomous edge. The crowd roared with laughter, but Calvin felt a sinking sensation in his gut. "Now, I ain't sayin' women are dumb," the comedian drawled, his voice carrying easily over the laughter of the audience. "But have you ever seen a woman try to fix a car? It's like watchin' a blindfolded chimpanzee try to play Jenga!"

He squirmed in his seat, hoping to finish his drink and leave before the comedian's offensive routine could infect his evening further. But as the laughter grew louder, a dull ache throbbed in Calvin's temples. It felt as though a heavy fog was descending upon his mind, slowing his thoughts and dulling his senses.

Amidst the uproar, the comedian's voice cut through the haze, singling out Calvin with a mocking tone. "Big guy over here knows what I'm talking about!" the comedian exclaimed, pointing directly at Calvin. The audience chuckled as Calvin, bewildered, tried to comprehend the comment. He wasn't particularly muscular; in fact, his frame was slender from years of dorm food and late-night study sessions.

As Calvin sat there, bewildered by the comedian's unexpected focus on him, he felt an unsettling surge of energy course through his body. It started subtly, like a tingling sensation in his fingertips, but quickly intensified into something more profound.

First, he noticed his arms. What were once slender limbs now pulsed with newfound strength. His biceps, previously unremarkable, swelled visibly under his sleeves, each muscle fiber standing out in stark relief. The transformation seemed surreal, as if his body were defying the boundaries of what he knew possible.

His stomach tightened next, a sensation akin to his abdomen being sculpted from within. Calvin could feel the muscles beneath his skin contracting and tightening, forming a defined washboard of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 distinct abs. They appeared with startling clarity, delineating a newfound athleticism that seemed to materialize out of thin air.

Even his chest, once a featureless expanse, began to change. The fabric of his shirt stretched slightly as his pectoral muscles expanded, rising with newfound prominence. It was as though his entire torso was being reshaped, redefined into a physique that bore little resemblance to the Calvin of mere moments ago.

"Earth to meathead… earth to meathead," the comedian quipped, the audience erupting into laughter once more. The word 'meathead' echoed in Calvin's ears, his brain caught in a strange loop. His thoughts grew sluggish, as if encased in molasses, struggling to resist the comedian's words.

In that moment, Calvin's world seemed to shift. The audience's laughter blended into a distant hum, and the comedian's words resonated with an unsettling clarity. The room swirled around him as Calvin felt an inexplicable pull toward the stage, the comedian's charisma and authority casting a mesmerizing spell over his senses.

With each passing moment, Calvin's resistance waned. His mind, once sharp and critical, now dulled under the weight of the comedian's rhetoric. It was as though the jokes, laced with prejudice and disdain, were rewriting his perceptions, reshaping his reality.

As the comedian continued his routine, Calvin's gaze fixed on the stage, his expression slackening. The once vibrant grad student, advocate for social justice and equality, now sat transfixed, his identity slipping away like sand through his fingers.

As Calvin's physical transformation seemed to solidify, so too did the shift in his mental landscape. At first, there was a subtle fog creeping into his thoughts, blurring his once clear convictions and values. Laughter, loud and boisterous, erupted from his throat as the comedian spun crude jokes that would have previously repelled him. Calvin found himself guffawing at the very punchlines he would have condemned as offensive and insensitive.

The comedian, sensing a newfound ally in Calvin's transformed demeanor, launched into a tirade against what he mockingly termed the "liberal woke agenda." Panic seized Calvin momentarily; he knew this rhetoric contradicted everything he stood for. Yet, as the comedian continued his diatribe, Calvin felt an unsettling resonance with the words. The criticisms of political correctness and social justice initiatives began to make a twisted kind of sense in his altered state.

Slowly but surely, Calvin's mind underwent a profound metamorphosis. His once staunch progressive beliefs faded into the background, replaced by a growing skepticism and disdain for what he now saw as excessive sensitivity and moral righteousness. The comedian's words burrowed deep, reshaping Calvin's worldview with each passing moment.

He found himself nodding along to the comedian's rants, chuckling at the caricatured portrayal of "snowflakes" and "social justice warriors." The shift was disorienting yet strangely liberating, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Calvin's thoughts grew simpler, more black-and-white, aligning with the comedian's jabs at political correctness and cultural inclusivity.

The comedian paused for effect, his eyes scanning the audience before landing on Calvin. "You know what I hate about the woke agenda?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's all about being inclusive and accepting of everyone... except for straight white men! We're supposed to be ashamed of our skin color, our gender, and even our sexual orientation! Well, I say enough is enough!"

The crowd roared their approval as the comedian continued. "I don't care if you call me a bigot or a racist or whatever else you want," he said defiantly. "I was born this way - just like my love for country music and pickup trucks." He paused again, letting the tension build before delivering the punchline: "And if that makes me a bad person in your eyes? Well then... maybe it's time we stopped trying to force everyone into some politically correct mold!"

Calvin found himself nodding along once more, feeling a sense of camaraderie with this man who dared to speak truth against an oppressive cultural regime. The joke resonated deeply within him; it felt like validation for all those times he had been made to feel guilty or ashamed simply because of who he was.

When the comedian singled him out with a mocking jab— "Man, oh, man. I thought I was a douchebag, but you're loving it, meathead!"—Calvin barely registered the insult. Instead, he grunted in agreement, downing the remainder of his drink which had transformed into a beer, the amber liquid soothing his newfound sense of camaraderie with the comedian's perspective.

"Another one!" he hollered to the waitress, his voice carrying a newfound bravado. As the waitress returned with his drink, Calvin slouched comfortably in his seat, his once critical faculties now dulled by a haze of conformity to this new ideology. It felt easier to go along with the flow, to embrace the simplicity of the comedian's worldview rather than challenge it.

And so, amidst the laughter and applause of the crowd, Calvin Andrews—once a passionate advocate for social justice and equality—found himself transformed into something unrecognizable: a meathead, laughing heartily at jokes that once would have pierced his conscience, his mind now echoing with echoes of a worldview he never thought he would adopt.

As Calvin sat there, engulfed in the comedian's toxic rhetoric, the word 'douchebag' echoed incessantly through his brain. Each repetition seemed to reinforce a transformation that was unfolding before his very eyes. His thoughts grew muddled, his once sharp intellect now clouded by a burgeoning sense of entitlement and bravado.

Physically, Calvin felt a strange sensation ripple through him once more. His features seemed to shift subtly but unmistakably. His face hardened, acquiring a squared jawline adorned with a meticulously groomed chinstrap beard. His nose, once unassuming, grew slightly more pronounced, adding to the newfound aura of masculinity that seemed to radiate from him.

As his appearance morphed, so too did his sensibilities and personality. Calvin's hobbies and interests underwent a startling transformation. Gone were the days of poring over the works of Virginia Woolf or engaging in critical discourse on gender studies. The pursuit of knowledge and social justice gave way to a shallower existence, focused on more basic pleasures.

His academic aspirations shifted abruptly. No longer driven by a passion for literature and social change, Calvin found himself contemplating a business degree—a path he deemed more practical and financially rewarding. "College is just a stepping stone to better parties," he mused, a cynical smirk crossing his newly chiseled features.

His once eclectic taste in music narrowed to mainstream hits blaring from frat house speakers. The melodic musings of Troye Sivan and the introspective lyrics of Sufjan Stevens were replaced by pounding beats and lyrics devoid of substance but laden with machismo.

In conversations, Calvin now echoed the comedian's disdain for what he perceived as "liberal nonsense" and "PC culture run amok." His views on gender and sexuality grew rigid, laced with misogyny and homophobia that would have appalled his former self. He found himself making crude jokes and engaging in locker room banter, relishing the camaraderie of like-minded peers.

As Calvin's descent into this new identity deepened, he felt a strange satisfaction in his regression. The complexities of his former life seemed distant and irrelevant. He no longer remembered how to spell "Virginia Woolf," much less appreciate her literary genius. His vocabulary dwindled, replaced by a lexicon of bro-speak and corporate jargon.

But with each passing moment, the cacophony of his new life as a masculine conservative douchebag—grew stronger.

As the comedian's joke about his attraction to women resonated through the bar, Calvin felt a seismic shift within himself. It was as if a fog lifted, and suddenly, everything clicked: women were hot. This simple revelation seemed to rewrite the fabric of his existence.

In that moment, the pieces of his gay identity began to unravel. Memories of leading the Gay-Straight Alliance at UCLA, advocating for equality, and embracing his LGBTQ+ community faded like wisps of smoke. The vibrant nights out in West Hollywood, filled with laughter and solidarity, were replaced by scenes of testosterone-fueled football games and raucous frat parties.

Calvin's dorm room underwent a drastic transformation, shedding its previous décor of social justice posters and indie band artwork. In their place, posters of cheerleaders in provocative poses adorned the walls. The atmosphere shifted to one of hyper-masculinity, with empty beer cans littering the floor and the air thick with the scent of cheap cologne.

As Calvin struggled to reconcile this newfound identity, a name surfaced in his mind: Chaz Prescott. It was a name that embodied everything Calvin once scorned: arrogance, conservatism, and a relentless pursuit of female attention. Chaz was not just a new persona; he was a complete overhaul of Calvin's former self.

Chaz Prescott strutted confidently through the world, his speech peppered with crude jokes and objectifying remarks about women. He reveled in the attention of his fraternity brothers, engaging in locker room banter and boasting about conquests that existed more in his imagination than in reality.

Gone were the introspective moments and intellectual pursuits that once defined Calvin. Chaz scoffed at discussions of literature and philosophy, dismissing them as irrelevant to his pursuit of a business degree and the next weekend's party. His once sharp intellect dulled, replaced by a superficial charm and a penchant for shallow pleasures.

With each passing day, Calvin's transformation into Chaz Prescott seemed irreversible. The memories of his former life grew distant, replaced by a bravado that masked a deep-seated insecurity. He no longer questioned the comedian's crude jokes or the ideologies that once repulsed him; instead, he embraced them with a fervor that bordered on fanaticism.

As Chaz Prescott, he navigated a world where women were conquests to be won, and sensitivity was equated with weakness. The complexities of gender and sexuality were reduced to stereotypes and caricatures, and the vibrant spirit of Calvin Andrews faded into the shadows, a whisper of a past life that Chaz no longer recognized or acknowledged.

And so, amidst the laughter and approval of his new peers, Chaz Prescott—a creation born from a single joke—emerged as a symbol of everything Calvin had once rejected, a testament to the transformative power of identity and perception.

As the comedian wrapped up his set with a flourish of applause and laughter, the announcer's voice boomed through the venue: "Up next… you love him, you hate him… it's the king of the frat house… Chaz Prescott!" The name sent a jolt of recognition through the audience, eliciting cheers and whistles from those who knew the persona well.

Chaz, now fully embodying this brash and confident alter ego, flashed a cocky smirk to himself as he swaggered onto the stage. His presence commanded attention, exuding a blend of arrogance and charm that seemed to magnetize the room. Without missing a beat, he launched into the crudest, most provocative set of the night, each punchline hitting its mark with precision. "So, I was at this party the other night and I saw this girl wearing a 'Feminist' t-shirt. So, I went up to her and said 'Hey baby, is that an 'I heart dicks' shirt under there?' She got all mad and started yelling at me about how feminism isn't about objectifying women. And I just laughed and said 'Yeah, well you sure as hell aren't making it easy for us guys to respect you.'"

The audience erupted into stitches of laughter, hanging on Chaz's every word as he spun tales of exaggerated conquests and raunchy escapades. His delivery was impeccable, each joke laced with a raw energy that resonated with the frat house culture he now embraced. "But seriously folks, can you believe these woke snowflakes? They think they can come into our frat houses and try to change the way we think? Well let me tell ya something - we ain't going down without a fight! We are men! We like boobs! And beer! And sports!"

After his set, Chaz found himself surrounded by admirers, basking in the afterglow of his performance. Among them was a pretty blonde girl, her laughter still echoing from the front row. Chaz turned on the charm, flashing a smile that oozed confidence as he engaged her in conversation.

Gone was the introspective Calvin who once pondered the complexities of identity and social justice. In his place stood Chaz Prescott, a larger-than-life figure who reveled in the spotlight and thrived on the validation of his peers. As he bantered effortlessly with the blonde girl, Chaz felt a surge of adrenaline, reveling in the attention and adoration that came with his newfound persona.

Chaz couldn't help but notice the blonde girl's ample cleavage as she approached him. Her tits were like two perfect melons, begging to be squeezed and sucked on. He couldn't wait to get his hands on them, maybe even give her a little slap across those plump cheeks just to see if they jiggled.

As he engaged her in conversation, Chaz couldn't help but think about how much he wanted to teach this dumb feminist bitch what a real man was like. He imagined himself throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her off into the night, fucking her brains out until she begged for mercy.

The girl was stunning - long blonde hair cascading down past her shoulders, big blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief, and lips painted red as cherries. She had an air of confidence about her that made Chaz want to take control even more. "So, what's your name?"

"I'm Lily."

Chaz just flashes his pearly whites "Well, Lily, I think it's time we got out of here. My frat is just down the street."

As they entered the frat house, Chaz couldn't help but feel a surge of power course through him. The room was filled with rowdy brothers, cheering and laughing as they watched on eagerly. He led Lily towards an empty pool table at one end of the room where several guys had already gathered around them.

"Alright boys," he shouted over their laughter,"This is my new friend Lily here - she wants us all to give her some pointers about how real men treat women!"

The room erupted into even louder cheers as several guys jumped up from their seats eagerly approaching them while others grabbed beers off nearby tables ready for whatever might happen next.

After a great set, there was nothing that made Chaz felt more powerful than ever. He loved the way his jokes made people laugh, but there was something even more satisfying about belittling fags and women. It made him feel like a real man - strong, dominant, in control. And nothing turned him on quite like that feeling of power coursing through him.

Without further ado, Chaz grabbed Lily by the waist and lifted her up onto the pool table. She squealed in surprise but didn't resist as he pushed her legs apart and positioned himself between them. He gripped her hips tightly, using them to control her movements as he thrust into her with forceful strokes that made the entire table shake beneath them.

As he looked down at Lily's big tits bouncing up and down with each thrust of his hips, Chaz couldn't help but grin devilishly. He gripped her hair tightly in one hand while using the other to slap her ass hard enough to leave a mark - all while maintaining his brutal pace on top of her.

The guys around them cheered him on, urging him to go harder and faster while they laughed at Lily's helpless moans of pleasure. It was clear that this wasn't about making love - it was about dominating a woman who had dared challenge their alpha male status.

[dionysianivy]

Songs that reminds me of Dionysus ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Hello everyone🍇 This is my playlist of songs that remind me of the time I started working with Dionysus, or the songs that make me feel most connected to him. Maybe some songs don't have any Dionysian vibes, but they are important to me because they make me feel free, wild, and confident. They allow me to show my true colors and not be afraid to reveal who I really am, which is really important for my soul and for my Sag moon! >ᴗ< hope you like it♡

🌿🐆🌿🐆🌿🐆🌿🐆🌿🐆🌿🐆🌿🐆🌿🐆🌿🐆

1. My Blood - Twenty One Pilots | 3:49

2. This Charming Man - The Smiths | 2:42

3. Touch of My Hand - Britney Spears | 4:19

4. Electric Feel - MGMT | 3:49

5. Tarzan Boy - Baltimora | 3:50

6.  (Von Dutch Remix) - Charli XCX, Addison Rae, a.g. cook | 2:37

7. Phonography - Britney Spears | 3:33

8. Kill the Lights - Britney Spears | 3:59

9. Big in Japan - Alphaville | 4:45

10. Follow Me Down - 3OH!3 | 3:23

11. Affection - Between Friends | 3:55

12. Sadeness - Enigma | 4:15

13. My Prerogative - Britney Spears | 3:33

14. Karma Chameleon - Culture Club | 4:12

15. New Flesh - Current Joys | 2:47

16. Get Naked (I Got a Plan) - Britney Spears | 4:44

17. All I Need - The Frights | 2:54

18. Hotter than Hell - Dua Lipa | 3:07

19. Can’t Wait - Doja Cat | 3:55

20. Evil - Melanie Martinez | 4:06

21. Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Tears for Fears | 4:11

22. Follow Your Fire - Kodaline | 3:58

23. Hands Up - 6arelyhuman 2:14

24. Overcompensate - Twenty One Pilots | 4:16

25. Fairly Local - Twenty One Pilots | 3:27

26. Breathe on Me - Britney Spears | 3:43

27. Don’t Let Me Go - RAIGN | 3:51

28. Sexual Healing - Marvin Gaye, kygo remix | 6:08

29. Little Dark Age - MGMT | 4:59

30. Metamorphosis - INTERWORLD | 2:23

31. If I Had You - Adam Lambert | 3:48

32. Break the Ice - Britney Spears | 3:16

33. Just Dance - Lady Gaga | 4:02

34. Drunk Together - Jai Waetford ft. Allday | 4:25

35. Wonderland - Natalia Kills | 3:32

36. Gimme What I Want - Miley Cyrus | 2:34

37. Night Crawling - Miley Cyrus feat. Billy Idol | 3:11

38. The Greatest - Sia | 3:33

39. National Anthem - Lana Del Rey | 3:51

40. Miami 82 (Kygo Remix) - Syn Cole | 5:42

41. Alejandro - Lady Gaga | 4:34

42. Poker Face - Lady Gaga | 3:57

43. The Business - Tiësto | 2:50

44. Brutus (Instrumental) - The Buttress | 3:13

45. I’m a Slave 4 U - Britney Spears | 3:23

46. Champagne Problems - Nick Jonas| 3:13

47. Ecstasy - SUICIDAL-IDOL | 2:00

48. Blackout Days - Phantogram | 3:47

49. Hungry Eyes - Eric Carmen | 4:10

50. What’s Love Got to Do with It - Tina Turner | 3:48

51. Touch of My Hand - Britney Spears | 4:19

52. One of Your Girls - Troye Sivan | 2:59

53. Get Back - Britney Spears | 3:46

54. In the Arms of a Stranger - Mike Posner | 3:28

55. Piece of Me - Britney Spears | 3:32

56. The Answer - Britney Spears | 3:55

57. Acknowledge Me - Doja Cat | 3:15

58. Brother Louie - Modern Talking | 3:41

59. Cheri Cheri Lady - Modern Talking | 3:45

60. At the Risk of Feeling Dumb - Between Friends | 3:25

61. Where Is My Mind? - Pixies | 3:53

62. Wildcard - Miley Cyrus | 3:14

63. Thousand Miles - Miley Cyrus | 3:51

64. Often - Doja Cat | 3:20

65. She's Like the Wind - Patrick Swayze | 3:52

66. Heavydirtysoul - Twenty One Pilots | 4:12

[imaginechb]

Luke Castellan Playlist

Because I can fix him 🤭

1. Heaven, Iowa— Fall Out Boy

2. Bleeding Out— Imagine Dragons

3. Young God— Halsey

4. Start a War— Klergy, Valerie Broussard

5. Revolution— The Score

6. Demigods— Fall Out Boy

7. I Bet My Life— Imagine Dragons

8. Glory and Gore— Lorde

9. Fire and the Flood— Vance Joy

10. Flowers in Your Hair— The Lumineers

11. Poet— Bastille

12. No Time To Die— Billie Eilish

13. Pick a Side— The Lightning Thief Company

14. The Campfire Song— The Lightning Thief Company

15. Wait For It— Hamilton

16. Strawberries & Cigarettes— Troye Sivan

17. Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2— Pink Floyd

18. Run (feat. Ed Sheeran) (Taylor's Version)— Taylor Swift

19. Daddy Issues— The Neighbourhood

20. Ghost Of You— 5 Seconds of Summer

21. The Last Day of Summer— The Lightning Thief Company

22. War of Hearts— Ruelle

23. Little Lion Man— Mumford & Sons

24. Miss Missing You— Fall Out Boy

25. Still into You— Paramore

26. Amnesia— 5 Seconds of Summer

27. Alone Together— Fall Out Boy

28. get him back!— Olivia Rodrigo

29. New Year's Day— Taylor Swift

30. Call It What You Want— Taylor Swift

[ask-serendipity-sky]

1108: Facts and observations

•Day 0

1108 started on the 8th of November of 2015.

Jimin uploaded a video of him and Jungkook to twitter:

On the 26th of January 2016, Jk uploaded a small snippet of a song he was covering.

•Day 100

And on the 15th of February of 2016, Jk uploaded the entire song Nothing Like Us and noted to listen to the lyrics as they were expressing what he wanted to say:

In Korean culture, parents celebrate 100 days after a child is born. This is to indicate that the child made it through the first vulnerable phase in their life. In the same manner, the 100 days are celebrated by Korean couples.

And this is what Jk had to say 100 days after the 8th of November of 2015:

There's nothing like us There's nothing like you and me Together through the storm There's nothing like us There's nothing like you and me together, oh

•Day 366 (1 year)

On 08/11/2016, a year later, Jimin posted another video of them:

•Day 732 (2 years)

On Oct. 28, 2017, Jungkook treated Jimin to a trip to Tokyo. It was because of this trip, that Jungkook released gcfTokyo on Nov. 08, 2017.

A fan used the images in the video and was able to determine the hotel and room jikook stayed at. It was room number 1108.

The video also used the song There For You by Troye Sivan:

Boy, I'm holdin' onto something Won't let go of you for nothing I'm runnin', runnin' just to keep my hands on you There was a time that I was so blue What I got to do to show you? I'm runnin', runnin' just to keep my hands on you

Day 811

On the 26th of January 2018, in a Japanese fancafe, Jimin gifted Jungkook a drawing of a set of champagne glasses and a bottle. Note the details of the glasses.

•Day 900

On the 25th of April 2018, a day before the 900 day milestone, Jimin had a vlive where it was obvious he wasn't alone in the room. He kept looking to the side, laughing shyly and explained:

After he said this, you can hear someone whisper, "Jimin."

Day 1000

On August 3rd 2018, Jk posted a selfie while they were all filming BV3:

During BV3, jikook were able to look around the city alone, and have a boat date under the moonlight.

Day 1013

As you all may know 10:13 is also known as Jimin ssi, or Jimin time. It only makes sense that this day would be special to jikook too.

On the 16th of August 2018, Jimin tweeted a series of 3 tweets:

Jungkook was the only member that appeared in the photos with Jimin. It is also interesting to note the 2 butterfly temporary tattoos he had on his hand.

This is the same time when they had the photoshoot with the inflatable unicorn:

The next day, Jimin uploaded a tweet with the caption "Love Ya", and one of the photos was him and Jk.

•Day 1141

On the 22nd of December 2018, when fans uploaded their selfies on fancafe, the fans let Jk know that Jimin had uploaded his own:

This prompted Jk to type "JIMINNNN" and he signed off. He later uploaded a song that he stopped at 1:18:

You take my mind away When you touch me that way This place, your face It gets hard to breathe I know you're feeling me now You're all I see Almost like we're dreaming

•Day 1394

On the 1st of September 2019, Jk made 2 tweets. One in which uploaded a snippet of Decalcamonia, which he also ended on 1:18:

•Day 1500

On the 16th of Dec 2019, Jimin posted a good night tweet:

The time he uploaded this was at 1:50.

•Day 2300

On Feb 22, 2022, Jk uploaded a story on insta where he is in a car, listening to So Good by Joan. The story was labeled 23:08 even though he uploaded it at 1:24 am.

You and me Got a lotta tension, not even to mention Ooh, that night, just two weeks ago It was half past ten Thinking about living, suddenly when you walked it You took my breath away

•Day 2315

On March 10, 2022, during the Permission to Dance Concert, Jimin used the 2315 numbers and stated the following:

2315 days had passed since November 8, 2015.

•Day 2545

On the 26th of October 2022, Jk uploaded a photo of himself while he was in Qatar. He uploaded the photo at 11:08 Korea time and, 5:08 Qatar time.

•Day 2643

On the 2nd of February 2023, Jimin answered a question on weverse at exactly 23:08. The question is now deleted.

•Day 2684

During Jungkook hosted a series of lives on White Day, 14th of March 2022. His first live was started at 8:11 pm:

During these lives, Jk changed to various outfits and had an extensive playlist. One of the songs that was included was There For You.

•Day 2855

On the 1st of September 2023, Jk hosted a short live to thank the fans for being present with him during so many birthdays. He ended his live quickly and it lasted 8:56 minutes:

My impressions

Based on Korean customs, celebrating different day milestones is typical in a Korean couple.

While some may think that jikook started dating on the 8th of November 2015, I think that's when they decided to be intimate with each other.

I feel like a jikook kiss had already happened since the last time Jimin asked Jk for a kiss publicly was in September 2015 for Jk's birthday. From there, one can only think that things proceeded quite quickly.

I think that in recent years, we have observed less mentions of 1108 because of BTS' popularity and so many fans expecting something from jikook.

It's possible that jikook has decided to not make these milestones known like they did before, but every now and then, they still reference that number. Who knows when they will do it again.

But who is counting, right?

[jewishbarbies]

I remember when directly after October 7th, many celebrities posted in support of Israel and got cancelled, then a few changed to pro Palestine and most stayed silent after that. I’ve noticed most people (non celebrities) tend to hound after Jewish celebrities in order to find out whatever they believe. For example, Troye Sivan (South African Jewish man) hasn’t posted anything about Israel since he was 18 (he was happy that a helicopter sent to attack Israel from Gaza was shot down) and he’s like 28 now I think, and people were in his COMMENTS blaming him for October 7th, hating on him, etc. People were hating on Milo Manheim as well because he was in a retelling of Christ type movie even though he was Jewish because according to the pro Palestine camp, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph we’re supposedly Palestinians (if they existed).

And then there’s the Noah Schnapp shit and I’m sure you know how that went. So whenever non Jewish people critique Jewish celebrities for not saying a single thing in support of either side, I sort of disagree because it seems like Jewish celebrities are in a lose lose situation. If they support Israel and Jews, they’re called genocide supporters. But if they choose to support Palestine, they’ll still face antisemitism and blame.

it definitely is a lose lose. I would just do what i could in private to help based on my morals and keep my mouth mostly shut publicly. like, i would WANT to be able to use my reach to speak out of things, and i would to an extent. but I feel like it would get a point where it was just too dangerous for my own safety.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Modern AU based on Blue Neighbour by Troye Sivan. Eris and Azriel used to be childhood best friends and in their teens they discovered they have feelings for each other. Beron found out about them and punished Eris and forced him to break the contact with Azriel. But when Beron dies years after, Azriel… songs used for this story: Wild, Fools, Talk Me Down, Youth, Rush, One of Your Girls (all from Troye Sivan) for @azrisweek | azrisweek masterlist | read on ao3 | includes explicit content

A loud, buzzing sound rings out in the otherwise silent meeting room. Azriel's hand immediately slams down on his thigh, trying to press the silent button of his phone through his suit pants — without success. He needs to pull it out, which is something Rhysand, his boss, doesn't like to see at all.

The phone is in Azriel's hand for a mere second when Rhys's voice echoes through the meeting room, his gaze stern when it lands on Azriel, "No phones in the meeting room!"  

I guess that rule doesn't apply to everyone here because when the baby daddy gets sent a photo from little Nyx, he is rather quick to check his phone, completely ignorant to the no-phone rule, Azriel thinks, but doesn't dare voice. 

He only tips his chin at his best friend and slides his phone back into the pocket of his pants, only for it to resume its vibration against his leg.

Rhys' gaze is still on him, still stern and slightly reprimanding. Azriel decides not to risk it and wait until the end of the meeting. The call can't be that important, can it?

Later, Azriel learns that he was wrong. The call was important, and the news he learns from the accompanying text messages pulls the rug out from beneath his feet. 

Two missed calls and a message appear on his screen alongside some Instagram notifications that now seem very irrelevant. Azriel enters the break room, his phone already unlocked, and opens the messages from his mother. His heart slams to a halt.

Mum: Beron Vanserra passed away in the early morning hours. We are all invited to the funeral on Sunday, 11 am. Greg and I are leaving this evening. Join us, please! Love, mum!

Azriel's hands start to tremble, turning a little clammy. He never considered going home again, not after everything that happened, not since New York had become his new home. 

He opens the chat, his thumb hovering above the letters, unsure how to respond. He doesn't want to leave his mother on read, especially not after a message like this, but he has no idea what to say… or do. 

Azriel: Thank you for the information. I'll consider it.

He shoves his phone back into his pocket and helps himself to a cup of coffee before returning to the meeting room. 

Maybe going home after more than ten years isn't that bad of an idea, Azriel thinks, but he knows it will re-open wounds that have finally almost healed.

And Azriel would see him again. Beron Vanserra's son. Eris Vanserra. And Azriel doesn't quite know if he likes the thought of that. 

How will it go? How will he feel seeing him after such a long time? The last time he saw him, he was seventeen, a boy; now, he is almost 28, a grown-up man. 

A lump the size of a peach starts to form in his throat, and he has difficulty swallowing even the smallest sip of coffee. His hands are still shaky, and breathing seems a little harder now. Azriel's gaze moves to stare at the tiny droplets of rain cascading down the floor-to-ceiling window.

They haven't spoken since he moved away, though the first few years in New York were filled with missed calls from Eris that went unanswered and were eventually blocked. He couldn't do that to him, give him hope, string him along, not when there was so much at risk.

Azriel tips his head to the side to think, to recall a moment in the past, a few strands of hair shifting with the movement. A few years ago, when Nesta, his best friend's girlfriend, downloaded Instagram for him, he found Eris and tried to follow him. The man never accepted his request and left Azriel with no idea what had happened in Eris' life. It makes him feel uneasy. Sad.

Did Eris move away? Did he stay in the village they grew up in? Did he fall in love? Did he marry? Has he fallen in love again?

Somehow, the thought of this makes a large crack appear in Azriel's heart, and he shakes his head a little. He will have his answers soon and then have to live with them, no matter the outcome. He wouldn't be staying long, only for the funeral. He doesn't have to worry or care about Eris for longer than the weekend. It should all be alright–

"Break's over!" Rhysand claps his hands. "Let's continue, shall we?"

Reluctantly, Azriel follows him back into the meeting room, his mind racing with questions he tries to push away. He doesn't want to think about Eris or seeing each other again,- but he can't avoid the directions his mind wanders.

Will they talk? How will they act around each other after so many years? How will Eris speak to him? Treat him?

His string of thoughts –thank God– is cut short when Rhysand directly addresses several questions that Azriel is too distracted and unfocused to answer. Usually, he is perfect at his work, but right now, his thoughts have strayed all over the place. He fidgets with a pencil, constantly flipping it over or tabbing a melody against the tabletop.

In the past, he had no real reason to consider returning home. He didn't have anyone to return home to. His mother moved away with him, and his abusive father left with his new family to settle in the West many years before he'd left that village with his mother. Azriel hasn't heard from his father since their move, which he isn't unhappy about. He is relieved to no longer have such a person in his family.

"The documents are on my desk by Monday, got that, Az?"

Azriel clears his throat and nods. He has no idea which documents Rhysand is talking about, but he’ll figure it out. Now, other things matter more- namely, making up his mind. Should he attend the funeral with his mother and her new husband, or should he stay and leave his past entirely behind?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Mum: We're leaving at seven. Have you made up your mind? Love, mum.

Azriel has only stared at the text since returning to his loft. It is long past seven now, and he hopes that they have already left. It would buy him more time. More time to consider his decision and think about all the possibilities that could come up when he returns home. When he sees him.

Eris Vanserra. His first friend. His best friend. His first love. His first kiss. His first time. His first heartbreak. 

Returning back to the village he grew up in, to the place he once loved so much and that later hurt him so much, isn't an easy decision. He was a young man then and hoped never to spend a day without Eris. They had made plans for their future that he tried to push as far away as possible in the years after he left but plans that he now remembers.

They often talked about it, relaxing in the meadow below the bright afternoon sun, limbs entangled, lips mere inches apart. 

What if, what if we run away?

What if, what if we left today?

What if we let them fall behind and they're never found?

Everything was good in those moments. Together, they had dreams, hopes of a promising and bright future shared with each other. They wanted to move to New York together, study at the same university, get married, adopt children - but it was all wishful thinking. None of it came true. Azriel went to New York alone because he had to. But nothing was keeping him in his hometown either. No one was holding him there…

Azriel folds a scarred hand over his eyes. The marred skin of his hands still serves as a reminder of his twisted and messed up childhood, a reminder that his step-brothers never faced anything more than reprimanding for whatever they did to him. 

He doesn't allow himself to go down that traumatic path, and he reminds himself that their torture is wholly and entirely over and will remain in his past. He will never see his father, step-brothers, or step-mother again. That won't happen. He wouldn't allow it.

Instead, Azriel thinks back to the day he left and the tears he shed. He cried from the village to the airport, wetting the fabric of his mother's shirt as she held him in her arms and let him sob into her shoulder. The questions that plagued him on that ride to the airport plague him now, and he mulls them over once more:

What if Beron had never caught them? What if they had never fallen in love? What if he stayed and—?

Azriel sits up and wipes a cold hand over his face, brushing back a few strands of hair. A deep sigh parts his lips, and he turns on his phone. The picture of him, Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, and Cassian staring back at him from the glowing screen

He recalls vomiting the moment he opened the door at the airport, and later, on the plane, he opened up to his mother, telling her everything about his sexuality and Eris. His mother had long suspected that Azriel and Eris had been more than just best friends, but she never said anything, wanting to give him time to open up. While holding his hand on the plane, she told him she didn't care if he liked boys or girls and would love him nonetheless. He will always be her little boy whom she is immensely proud of and loves wholeheartedly. 

Azriel inhales a breath that feels too heavy and too large for his lungs, which have somehow constricted. He starts to type.

Azriel: You don't have to wait for me. I'll take a cab tomorrow morning. 

Instantly, almost as if waiting for his reply, his mother sends a thumbs-up, and then three dots appear. It will take her a moment to answer. Azriel knows this, and he closes his message. In the meantime, he goes on Instagram, flicking through pictures of his best friends and their girlfriends, and with a loud sigh, he closes the app again. All those happy couples…

Azriel lets himself fall back into the bed, groaning when his sore back slams into the pillows. He drops his phone onto the mattress beside him, waiting for the ping of response.

Mum: Alright, Azriel. But let me know when you arrive so we can let you in. We'll be staying at Uncle Devlon's place. Love, mum.

Azriel is now the one to send a thumbs up.

Mum: It will be fine, my dear, don't worry about seeing Eris. I'm sure he missed you just as much as you missed him. Don't be afraid. 

He leaves the message unanswered, trying to figure out how to respond. He isn't particularly afraid or worried. He doesn't know what he feels—too much at once, too little, or maybe nothing. 

Azriel flips his phone away and folds a hand over his eyes, shielding them from the city lights filtering through the window. New York is falling asleep, but he is wide awake, far away from sleeping. 

Deafening silence fills the room, surrounded by darkness; he suddenly realises that he is worried that Eris will ignore him. Concerned that there will only be small talk between them. Worried that Eris has moved on without him and no longer thinks about him like Azriel does. Worried that–

There will never be a future for them. And maybe this is good. Maybe Eris has moved on—of course he has, Azriel thinks. He has probably found a wife or a husband, and perhaps he even has children now. Ten years is a long time; a lot can happen in ten years. 

Azriel's head starts spinning from all the thoughts and questions, so he decides to get up, shower, and start packing for his weekend trip. 

His hair is still damp when, half an hour later, he returns to his bedroom. He dons some sleeping pants and falls into the bed, curling up on his side. His alarm is set, his phone is in flight mode, and his vague but adequate messages to Cassian and Rhysand are sent (he's going on a little trip for the weekend, and his destination and purpose are unrevealed).

A silent tear slips out of his eye, accompanied by a soft sob. One thing becomes apparent: yes, he is going home, but he is not going home to him. He will return to the village he grew up in, but not to Eris. 

The lie he's told himself these past years, that he stopped caring about Eris, that he has stopped thinking about him, suddenly falls apart. Azriel has thought about him. A lot. And he still does. And sometimes, many times, he finds himself yearning for how it once used to be. 

He wants to sleep next to him. And that's all he wants to do right now. And he wants to come home to him. And that's all he wants right now.

He doesn't just want to return to the place he once called home; he wants to return to where he fell in love with his best friend. He wants to return to Eris Vanserra, but not as a man whose heart was broken but as someone who can dare to hope for a future together.

He still wants Eris, and he hates that even after ten years, his wanting has never changed.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Azriel's heart presses down on him like a rock heavy with emotion as he closes the cab door. He waves off the driver with his weekend bag in hand and sunglasses pushed back into his hair. He sets off down the dry path leading into the centre of the village and to his uncle's house. The town is small now, and at 28, Azriel notes how close everything else is- his father's house and, a little further down the path, Eris' family home.

Almost like in a movie, pictures flash in front of his vision—of a childhood that seemed unburdened for everyone on the outside. A childhood that maybe wasn't too warm and loving, but one he shared with Eris. They grew up almost in the same exact way, with loving mothers, brutal fathers who didn't shy back from using violence, and brothers who supported that kind of action.

Azriel's jaw tenses, and he stops, only staring ahead at the houses, the facades weathered and dulled over time, at the village stretching out in front of him. Most things have stayed the same. He can make out the same swimming pools, houses, and living rooms he and his friends used to play in. Unchanged little houses with trees on the hills in the far distance where he and Eris used to spend quiet nights together. 

As he walks a little further, he nears an old garden fence. The colour of it is already crumbling, but Azriel still remembers that it was here, right by this fence, next to the big apple tree, where they almost kissed for the first time.

"Are you finally going to tell me what happened?" Eris raises a questioning brow at Azriel, who scrunches his nose in response, his eyes half-closed due to the bright sun. He holds tightly onto his worn school bag and then says, "There is nothing to tell."

"Azriel, I can see your blue eye; it is quite obvious." He reaches out, his fingers curling around Azriel's upper arm, stopping him from walking. "I thought we would share everything with one another."

Azriel shrugs a shoulder. "It was nothing. I ran into–"

"His fist, right. He hit you again, didn't he?"

Azriel shrugs again. 

"I am going to punch him."

"After I punch your father," Azriel chuckles, but the sound lacks warmth or humour. 

"This is messed up," Eris mumbles and steps closer to his best friend, tipping his chin up with his thumb. "But you need to be honest with me. Tell me when he hurts you so I can be there for you."

Slowly, Azriel starts to nod, but then his eyes drop to Eris' lips. Suddenly, He is so much closer, only mere inches away. Eris' eyes are locked with his but also momentarily slide to Azriel's lips, his Adam's apple bobbing. "We can't do this," Eris whispers, but instead of moving away, he leans closer. Azriel does, too, holding his breath. "I know," he answers, his tone equally breathy. "But–"

Eris's baby brother Lucien interrupted them, calling Eris' name from the porch and then running towards the two best friends. Lucien was only seven years old then, and Eris picked him up easily when he reached them—he must be a teenager now.

Azriel remembers that they were both relieved that their moment ended that way, but only two weeks later, they really kissed, and from then on, there was no more holding back. They kissed a lot back then, but always in secret. 

It was two months later that everything they had and loved ended. It was when Beron's cruelty reached its peak, and he—

"Azriel!" The squeaking of door hinges disrupts his daydreaming. "Didn't I tell you to let us know when you arrive?!"

"Mother." Azriel dips his chin after having turned around. "It's good to see you." He cracks a small smile when his mother throws up her hands in despair. 

"You never listen to me, Azriel Marino!"

"I always listen to you, Mama." After closing the distance between them, he wraps his arms around her shoulders and kisses the top of her head. "Always." 

Eleni Marino harrumphs loudly but hugs her son tightly. "Come in. Your uncle is looking forward to seeing you."

Azriel doubts that. His uncle probably only wants to see if he is still the small weakling he always used to call him. But the joke's on Uncle Devlon because Azriel is no longer small or weak. He has grown a lot, including his muscles, which Devlon probably never thought possible. He has changed a lot, and he can't wait to see the look on his uncle’s face. 

"Uncle," Azriel greets upon entering the living and dining room, his chin dipping to his chest, his voice low. His gaze runs over the old man sitting in his armchair - ten years can do a lot to a man – who once used to be a strong and fit army general, is now an old man with white hair and sunken cheekbones. 

"Azriel," he croaks and rises from his chair. "Let me look at you. You have grown up." He assesses him through half-closed eyes, shuffling towards him. "You've grown a lot, boy. How has college been treating you?"

Azriel wants to open his mouth to say that he dropped out of college after the first semester and decided to work instead, but when he meets his mother's gaze, she shakes her head, and it tells him everything he needs to know. 

"College is good. Got good grades and made friends," Azriel says instead, knowing that to keep the peace here, it is wiser to lie a little. Devlon would only ask why he dropped out and then blame them for not having enough money to afford it. Consequently, he would blame Azriel's mother for not working hard enough to make studying at a uni possible for her son. And then blame her for not staying with his father. Abusive or not, it had never mattered to his uncle. So, this small white lie has to do. 

"How's life been treating you, Uncle?"

Devlon shuffles away, wiping his mouth with his hand, and plops down on the armchair again. "Good, good," he mumbles, pulling a blanket over his lap and leaning back. Azriel is sure he dozes off a moment later so he turns back to his mother with a chuckle. 

But there is no amusement on her face. Looking worried, she reaches out her arm to clasp Azriel's hand. "Lunch will be ready in around an hour. Go see him now."

Azriel's throat bobs, his fingers naturally curling tighter around his mother's hand. "What if he doesn't want to see me?"

"You'll only find out if he wants to see you if you go to him. Otherwise, you will be plagued with what-if questions and doubts for the whole weekend. Go see him and talk to him. I'm sure he has missed you just as much." Eleni inhales deeply, "After all, you also used to be best friends at one point."

Best friends and so much more, Azriel thinks. Slowly, he begins to nod, his hands having turned cold, his heart feeling a little heavier, and his feet are somehow rooted to the ground, making it impossible for him to move immediately. He needs just a moment longer, holding onto his mother's hand like he is once again the young man who was sobbing into her shoulder when they left ten years ago. 

"Go now, Azriel. I'm sure he's still at the chapel, preparing everything for the funeral tomorrow."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

With his heart rapidly pounding, Azriel walks down the familiar path to the chapel he used to take many times when he still lived here, his mind swirling with memories. Every step he takes feels heavier as he nears the old house of prayer, wondering if Eris will truly be there. 

He has mindlessly followed his mother's suggestions and now doubt gnaws at him about whether he should have come. Uncertainty clouds his thoughts, and nervousness tightens his chest. What if Eris doesn’t want to see him? What if he ignores him? What if he is mad at him? 

Will he even recognise him after all these years?

Of course he will, Azriel thinks. He hasn't changed much. He has only grown and built up some muscles. His face is still the same.

His heart nearly breaks through his ribcage when he reaches the door, the crisp air burning down his throat with every inhale. For a moment, he feels like fainting or throwing up, but then his hand reaches for the door handle and pulls it down. The door opens slowly, too slowly, and silently. So silently that Eris doesn't notice him. 

He is standing at the altar, arranging some flowers, and for a moment, Azriel forgets how to breathe. 

Eris Vanserra is more beautiful than ever, breathtaking, to say the least. Azriel can't tear his eyes away, slowly letting his eyes run over the man in front of him, and his knees wobble. Eris has cut his hair, but not too short. He also gained some muscles and now wears a beautiful beard that perfectly complements his look.

Azriel stops on the threshold, unable to move further, hand still on the door. 

"Stop that!" Azriel playfully smacks Eris' hand away, lying on the grass, laughing.

"A flower in your hair would look cute."

"I am not cute," Azriel grumbles, sliding his hand into Eris '. The red-haired boy lies down atop his chest and tips his head back to look up at Azriel. 

"You are cute." Eris grins.

"Stop being cheesy."

"Never!" Eris smoothies his freckled hand up Azriel's chest, humming contentedly.

In the middle of this meadow, in the middle of nowhere, far from their village, they are safe. They have taken their bikes to get as far away from prying eyes as possible. Only here can they be true to themselves and love each other more deeply than friends love each other.

"Eris," Azriel hums, lifting the hand that isn't in Eris's hold to brush it through his boyfriend's auburn locks. "You make my heart shake, bend and break. But I can't turn away. And it's driving me wild. You're driving me wild."

Eris hums softly. "I love you, but why do I only find out now that you are one to spout poetry?"

Azriel's laughter rings out over the meadow…

It was probably the last time he had laughed so happily and freely. This moment was beautiful, as was the whole day. Azriel remembers that this day was also when they first slept together.

When he finally catches himself, his hand lets go of the door and he takes one step into the chapel. The inside is cold, and the scent of polished wood, aged hymnals, and candles lies in the air, mingling with the aroma of incense that adds a touch of spice.

Azriel inhales deeply, bracing himself for what he is about to say. A simple greeting, nothing spectacular, but he has no idea if he is ready for it. For whatever is about to follow the greeting. 

But he doesn't have to speculate. Not when Eris has already noticed his arrival.

"I didn't think you would come." He places a candle next to the flowers, then steps back from the altar and turns to Azriel. His eyes run over Azriel slowly, and small flames flicker in Eris' eye. "But here you are. After ten years."

Azriel nearly chokes on his saliva, but in a croaky voice, he manages to say, "My mother—" only for Eris to interrupt him.

"Of course, your mother told you to come here," the red-haired male cuts in. "Of course, she is the reason you are here. She has always checked in. For the past ten years. Has always sent messages for Christmas and my birthday." A small, nostalgic smile appears on Eris' lips, and he wipes his hands down his thighs, clearing the soil and petals from the flower arrangement. 

Azriel didn't know that, and it infuriated him that his mother had never told him—how dare she! How dare she keep contact with Eris and never tell him?

"Don't make it sound like a reprimand," Azriel grumbles. "I wasn't the one to break up–"

"You know why I broke up with you!" Eris counters.

"Because you were a coward."

A snarl parts Eris' lips, hurt flashing in his eyes, and at the exact moment, a pang of hurt pierces right into Azriel's heart. Is this truly how their first meeting after ten years goes?

"Says the one who didn't reach out a single time in all those years." A look of disgust spreads over Eris' face. He shakes his head and then approaches Azriel, stopping right before him. "Not one time."

"I tried to reach out, but you wouldn't accept my request on Instagram!" Azriel snarls,

"I don't even use this app," Eris retorts, "My little brother's girlfriend downloaded it for me, thinking it would be a good way to socialise and maybe meet a partner."

Azriel doesn't really know what to answer. He hoped their first meeting would be different after such a long time, but he had false hopes. Of course, it would go exactly like this. He should have reached out. He should have called, texted, come here, something. 

But he didn't and now must pay the price for it. 

"I didn't forget about you. Is that what you want to hear?"

A cold huff parts Eris' lips, followed by a cynical chuckle. "Hm, too bad that I did. And now I've got things to do. As you might know, my father died." He brushes past Azriel without saying another word, shoving the brown-haired male by his shoulder, and heads for the chapel door. 

He doesn't give Azriel a chance to say something. A moment later, he is gone, and the door falls shut, a tremor coursing through Azriel at the loud pang. 

He is taken right back in time. To the fateful day when his whole life fell apart. The day when Beron–

"I bet you're already hard for me." Azriel chuckles softly, his hand placed on Eris' bare chest, slowly travelling lower until it rests right above Eris' crotch, only the blanket and Eris' boxers separating between them. His lips find the spot right beneath Eris' ear that makes his boyfriend elicit the most sensual noises. Azriel loves those noises and could listen to them forever, so he lets his teeth run over Eris's sensitive skin, then pokes out his tongue and licks it. 

"Always," Eris hums, hips jerking in response to his boyfriend's touch. 

When Azriel's lips ascend, placing a trail of kisses up his boyfriend's throat, he slides his hand beneath the blanket, palming Eris through the fabric of his boxers. 

Their lips meet in a frantic kiss, tongues fighting for dominance when he lets his hand slide beneath the fabric, but—

But the door slams open only a blink of an eye later, rattling the whole room. Beron barrels inside, seething with anger. 

He most definitely drank a lot at the bar beforehand. He should have been longer, a few more hours.

Azriel only remembers a little of what Beron said to them, but a few words stuck. 

"This is disgusting," he spits. "You disgust me!"

He hurdles for the bed, but both boys are unable to move. He is too shocked about Beron catching them and worried about what will happen now that he knows.

"What do you think you are doing, Eris Vanserra?" Beron shouts, pulling Eris up by his arm, and it doesn't take long for the first slap to land upon his face. "Rolling around in bed with a boy! You disgust me." He slaps him again, this time harder.

By now, Azriel is out of bed as well, screaming at the man to let go of his boyfriend and tugging at Beron's arm, but the man is more muscular. He shoves Azriel away; the young man knocks his head against the bedframe, and his vision goes black. Pitch black. Just like his heart, nothing but void filling the place that once used to beat happily for his boyfriend.

The moments after are a blur of consciousness and unconsciousness, and the next thing Azriel remembers is Eris breaking up with him, his face bruised and marred by markings of Beron's anger.

His throat is dry when he leaves the chapel, the back of his mouth aching. He couldn't help him back then because Eris didn't let him. He broke up with him and pushed him away — Beron prohibited them from ever meeting again. He claimed that Azriel had ruined his son, called him all kinds of homophobic nicknames, and threatened to destroy his mother's life should he ever try to get close to Eris again. 

It was the most devastating moment of his life, surpassing even the time when his brothers burned his hands. Beron’s cruelty inflicted wounds on his heart that would never heal.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Azriel's sleep is restless, constantly rolling from one side to the other, the sheets tangled between his legs, his bare chest coated in cold sweat.

Moonlight filters through the curtain-framed window, casting the room in a gentle, blueish glow. It's still night and nowhere close to morning. 

He raises his hand, letting his fingers coast over his lower lip. 

"You need to smile, Az." A grin, reaching from one ear to the other, spreads over Eris' face while he is staring into the camera. "You are always so broody."

"I'm not!" Azriel snaps and playfully shoves his elbow into Eris' ribs who yelps.

"Idiot!" 

"Say that again!" Eris turns to his best friend, and his breath catches. He reaches out, but stops himself.

"Idiot," Azriel chuckles and moves closer.

"Again." Eris leans in, eyes fluttering shut for a second, then dropping to Eris' lips. 

"Id—" Eris' lips close over Azriel, but instead of pulling back, he kisses him right back, his hand falling to his neck, bringing him in a little closer. All hesitance is erased within seconds; there is only Eris on his mind—and his lips.

At first, their mouths meet clumsily, but soon they find their rhythm, lips parting, tongues exploring, tangling, and dancing. Eris places his hands on Azriel's hips, formally having kept them at his side, and that a little awkwardly. He draws Azriel closer, deepening the kiss and eliciting a soft moan from him.

"Not just best friends, huh?" Eris mumbles when pulling back from the kiss. A string of saliva still connects their lips, which he wipes away with the back of his hand.

Tears build up in Azriel's eyes. "I'm in love with you."

"I know," Eris answers, his thumb wiping over Azriel's cheek, catching some stray tears. "And I'm in love with—"

"Fuck!" Azriel rips away the sheets and sits in bed, his whole body feeling clammy from the cold sweat that had built up due to his vivid dreams. He knows he can't stay here, and he knows exactly where he needs to go. He just needs to see Eris and talk to him. He can't let the conversation from earlier hang in the air like this. He needs to fix what he ruined. 

Grabbing the sweater he had earlier discarded in the room and donning it, he is out of the door before he can question his decision to go see Eris. He slips into his shoes as silently as a gazelle and then out the door, hoping his mother won't wake and question him about his whereabouts the following day. 

Azriel straightens up when he walks down the path leading to the gate at the end of the garden. It creaks a little when he opens it, but he ignores it, only one target in mind: Eris. He still knows the way to Eris' place like the inside of pockets. (Maybe a little suspiciously, he queried his mother in the afternoon about whether Eris still lives there, and she confirmed it, so he knows exactly where he needs to go).

Azriel feels a sudden surge of energy – he wants to talk and fix what has been ruined this afternoon. And in the ten years he was absent. 

He walks faster through the large, looming trees, their branches bending in the wind and leaves rustling and swirling. 

Azriel remembers that Eris's favourite season always used to be autumn, and maybe this is a good sign. It is autumn now, visible everywhere outside.  

But his blood runs cold, and his heart slams to a halt when his eyes land on a scene that also twists his gut. Hot and thick, jealousy bubbles up inside him, making the back of his mouth taste bitter.

"Well," Eris laughs, his features bright and joyful, his arm wrapped around the blond male's shoulders. "Thank god I have you."

Tamlin, if Azriel remembers correctly, flashes Eris a big grin. It makes the content of Azriel's stomach sour, and bile creeps up his throat. He can't believe that he truly lost his first love to him. This spoiled, rich prick!

"You are so lucky, Vanserra, to have me. What would you do without me?"

"I guess I would be hopeless," Eris laughs, pulling back his arm and letting it fall to his sides. "Thank you so much, really. For the arrangements, I couldn't have done them all alone, and with you being the best–"

Azriel can't make out the rest or hear what comes after best, but he can only guess that the word that belongs at the end of the sentence is boyfriend. Or worse, husband.

He can't believe it, and in his fury, and by trying to get closer, Azriel doesn't see a more prominent branch on the ground. His foot catches on it, causing him to trip and twist his ankle as he falls. "Fuck!" Azriel groans when his hands come in contact with the damp soil, and then pine needles pierce his skin. "Fucking bastard!"

He sits back on his heels and knows the moment he does, it was a big mistake. His ankle hurts like hell, and he has to bite down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from loudly alerting Eris to the fact that Azriel's sneaking around.

This is all so fucked up, Azriel thinks, and only wants to cry. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>

"There you go," Eleni hands Azriel a new cold pack, then lets her hand rest atop his head. "You should have woken me, I didn't even hear you fall."

"I tried to fall silently," Azriel answers sarcastically and groans when he shifts on the couch. His ankle has swollen significantly overnight; stepping on his foot hurts insanely, but he wouldn't let it show. And he would most definitely never reveal what exactly happened. Another small lie – he tripped at the staircase when he got himself something to drink during the night. 

He doesn't know if his mother truly believed him, but she didn't ask any further questions, and Azriel is more than grateful for that. 

"I've been meaning to take a little boat ride with you, Azriel, but I guess we can forget that now."

As if good old Devlon could still ride a boat, Azriel thinks. "What a shame," he says instead, glancing at his uncle but then back at his ankle and the cool pack. The outer ice layer already starts to melt, and small droplets of cold water run down the sides of his foot. 

Devlon doesn't say anything; a few minutes later, he asks Azriel's mother to follow him outside. They leave, and after checking if Azriel is alright with being alone, Eleni goes back into the kitchen to continue with lunch. 

For a moment, Azriel wonders what his stepfather eats when his mother isn't there. Who cooks for him? Or does he order food or eat at his neighbours?

Honestly, Azriel doesn't care, so he rests his head on the pillow again, gets comfy, picks up his phone, and finds a few unread notifications. Most are from Cassian, who sent him photos and videos or tagged him somewhere. He decides to ignore them for now and clicks on the message from his good friend Gwyn. 

Gwyn: Karaoke at 7, my place?

Azriel: Sorry, I can't.

Gwyn: ☹️

Gwyn: Are you brooding? 

Gwyn: Should I get the romance movies out and come over to your place with some ice cream?

Azriel: You‘re not funny, Berdara…I'm busy.

Gwyn: Busy? Busy how? Are you on a date? 😏

Gwyn: 😏😏😏😏

Gwyn: Is he hot? Send a pic if he is!

Azriel places his phone screen down on the couch table and blows out a long breath. He lifts his gaze to the window, where he sees his uncle and stepfather standing outside in the garden, discussing something about the old cherry tree. He hears his mother in the kitchen, still cooking, and knows he has a bit of privacy.

He picks up his phone and clicks on Gwyn's name. Her lovely smile pops up on his screen when it rings, and then her voice sounds through the speaker, and Azriel lifts his phone to his ear.

"Hey!" Gwyn says, her voice tinged with a hint of worry. "You're alright?"

"I went home."

"Home to your apartment? Or home like…Massachusetts home?"

"The latter."

"Oh god!" Gwyn's voice is loud and tinged with surprise. "I'll ask again, are you alright?"

"I guess I am, I–"

"Eris?"

Just like his other best friends, Gwyn knows about his past with Eris. It wasn't too easy to open up, but on an emotional night together on his rooftop terrace with quite a bit of alcohol in their blood, he poured his heart out to his friend. 

"I thought our first time seeing each other after such a long time would go differently."

"I'm sorry, Az," Gwyn mumbles sadly. "But I think you just need time. Maybe you can ask Rhys if you can stay a little longer?"

"I don't think it will help much." Azriel inhales a deep breath and sighs loudly. "Ten years is a long time, Gwyn. And not checking in with him once…it hurt him more than I could ever imagine." He lets his head fall back into the pillows.

"I understand, and I know that it is a damn long time, but if you still love him, it doesn't matter," Gwyn answers.

"It isn't weird that I still love him after such a long time?" Azriel asks, heart aching so much he folds a hand over his chest.

"Nope," his friend says, popping the p. "The heart wants what it wants, and if two souls belong together, they will eventually find their way back to each other. It isn't weird that you still love him; your first love will always play a big role in your life."

"Thank you."

"There's Nothing to thank me for, Az. Go get your man now." Her laughter is radiant even over the phone, and it gives Azriel the energy he needs to take the next step and do as she said: get his man.

"You think you can make it to the funeral tomorrow or– oh, I am so sorry, I didn't know you were on the phone." 

Azriel places his phone down and shakes his head. "The call just ended, and yes, Mama, I can."

He has to. He didn't come all this way to stay in his uncle's home.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Another sleepless night follows the previous one, and as silly as it might seem to anyone who finds out about it, Azriel leaves Devlon's house once again in the middle of the night. This time limping, though. He drags himself down the staircase, which seems so much longer when you have a torn ankle. He manages to open the front door as silently as possible and slips through it. 

It is the only chance he gets. The funeral is the following day, and then he will leave again. He has to talk to Eris, having been a coward all afternoon.

Once again, he is met by the crisp night air, only the sound of the wind dancing on the lake nearby and rustling the leaves of the large, looming trees in his ears surrounding him. 

Picking up a few pebbles, he heads to Eris' family home. He walks down the small concrete path he has walked probably over two thousand times in his life. It still looks almost the same; a few trees have been cut down during his absence, but other than that, the buildings, the pavement, and the fences are still the same. 

Azriel allows his gaze to stray, looking into some front yards. Even in the dark, he can make out the small swimming pools and swings. He remembers how he and Eris often met up at night, sitting on the swings in his uncle's garden, talking for hours about anything and everything. 

They mostly only returned to their homes when the sun started to rise and slept until midday (of course, that was only possible during their breaks). 

Azriel smoothes his hand through his hair, his heart having and picking up speed the closer he gets to Eris' place. Yesterday he was stopped, but tonight they will speak. His ankle still hurts, but he barely pays any attention to it, so focused on all the thoughts and questions in his mind. 

What if he never moved away? Would they have found a way to be together and maybe already be married now? 

He knows this is a silly fantasy, but one that is so beautiful it almost draws tears to his eyes. He can imagine them being married. He can imagine it so perfectly and loves the thought of it—and that even after ten years. 

He and Eris fell asleep within each other's arms every night, waking together, having breakfast together, going to work, and then spending the evening together. And that on repeat for as long as they live. 

It is what they always dreamt about back then. And it is what Azriel still thinks about now. It felt like that with no one he dated in the past ten years. He never felt like that. He never felt like he would love to spend the next 50 years with them, but with Eris?

With Eris, he can imagine everything.

His heart is racing like a wild horse when he enters the front yard of the large house, half of it swallowed by the large, looming forest behind it. They playfully used to call Eris' home Forest House when they were children, but when Azriel considers it now, he has to admit it really applies to it – it is a forest house.

He circles the house until he reaches his destination, still knowing exactly which window belongs to Eris' room. He climbed through it many times in their teen years, sneaking in in the middle of the night to–

Azriel cuts off his thoughts and turns his attention back to the pebbles in his sweaty palms. His gaze lifts to the window, and before he can stop himself, the first pebble slides out of his hand and strikes. Silence follows. He throws another. Then another. And another. 

He is about to give up, his heart crushing in his chest, pressing down on his stomach, when a light flickers on in Eris' room. Eris appears in front of his window and glances outside, his long red hair tousled, and he is only dressed in thin sleeping pants. 

Azriel lifts his arm, waving, and it takes Eris a moment to adapt to the dark and then spot him. He opens his window, shakes his head, and grumbles in an annoyed voice, "Go home and sleep!"

But Azriel won't give up that easily. "We need to talk." He is too stubborn to give up this time.

"So you can call me a coward again?" Eris huffs loudly.

"We need to talk about us," Azriel presses.

"At three in the morning?" Eris braces his hands on the windowsill, leaning closer. "My father is getting buried tomorrow, I need to sleep."

Azriel swallows his nervousness and worry, and his hands ball into fists, crushing the pebbles. "Please, Eris. Please, listen to me."

Eris steps away from the window, and Azriel's heart drops, just like his shoulders. The light in Eris' room goes off. 

Then there is nothing but silence and darkness. The darkness creeps in around him. The wind howls, and a shudder courses through Azriel. He is shaking when he bends down to pick up some pebbles again, his ankle aching fiercely, but it is nothing compared to the pain inside his heart. It hurts so much.

But he won't give up like that. Not so easily. He messed up the previous day and in the years prior. This is his last chance, and he is going to take it. 

The moment he lifts his hand, ready to throw another small stone, the house's back door suddenly opens. 

Azriel's breath catches, and he feels like his knees will give in at any moment. 

There he is. Having donned a thin tank top, Eris stands in the doorframe, his eyebrow raised. "Talk."

Azriel takes a step forward, trying to act as if everything is fine. "I am sorry for calling you a coward." He limps another step forward, grinding his teeth hard to bite back on the pain. 

"Okay," Eris answers tightly, then his gaze dips, and he looks at Azriel's very obviously swollen ankle. "I assume that happened when you tried to spy on me Friday night? Did you see what you wanted to see?" Eris raises a brow, crossing his arms over his chest, the muscles in his upper arms rippling with the movement. 

"I wasn't spying on you."

"Of course, Spymaster." The corner of Eris' mouth kicks up when he uses the nickname some kids gave Azriel in their childhood. He always used to spy on the adults and steal cookies and cakes when they didn't look, earning him this title. Azriel has completely forgotten about it, and his lips part in silent surprise. 

"I went for a walk."

"At three in the morning?" Eris closes the back door behind him. "That's a normal time for people to take a walk."

"You were also taking a walk with your boyfriend."

"Boyfriend!" Eris almost shouts, then starts to laugh so hard he has to bend over. It infuriates Azriel, and he braces himself for hearing Eris say something like: "He is my husband, you dumbass."

"Tamlin is not my boyfriend." Eris has calmed a little and now approaches Azriel, his bare feet padding softly over the cool, dewy grass. "He is my best friend, and this guy is as straight as a pole and married to Briar. I'm not sure if you remember her."

Azriel can barely swallow around the lump of shame in his throat. "You are not–"

"No, Azriel. But why do you care?"

"Why do you think I care?"

"Yes, this is what I am asking, Azriel. Why would you care? When you didn't care enough to call a single time?"

"You'll never let me forget that, huh?" Azriel spits.

Eris closes the distance between them faster than Azriel can breathe and is in his face the next moment, forehead pressing against his. "Because it broke my fucking heart. It tore me apart and left my soul in shards on the ground. Because I loved you, and you just left me when everything fell apart."

Azriel's heart breaks anew. "Mum was moving away with me; I couldn't have stayed here alone."

"But you could have called."

"You broke up with me." Azriel flattens his palms against Eris' chest, feeling his warm skin despite the cold night air against his palms. But he doesn't push Eris away; he only rests his hands on his ex-boyfriend's chest. "I couldn't reach out again."

"Why?" Eris growls. "What hindered you? I thought you used to love me."

"I did love you," Azriel answers honestly. "That's why I couldn't reach out again. Beron hurt you so much because of me. He forced you to break up with me. He punched you bloody that night, Eris, I haven't forgotten about that. He broke your collarbone." Azriel swallows thickly, tears filling his eyes. "When I think back to this moment, I still hear your cries, I still see the blood–I couldn't let this happen again. You needed to get rid of me, and that for good." 

"Azriel…" Eris breathes, and it seems as if he doesn't know how to continue. 

Azriel's head starts to spin suddenly, having finally revealed the secret he kept to himself for the past ten years. He has finally given Eris the reason for his ignorance, and it feels like a heavy weight is lifted from his chest. 

"You were too good to be good for me." Azriel's breath tingles Eris' skin, his gaze dropping to his lips. "You deserved so much better. You deserved someone else, someone better. You deserve someone better." Azriel looses a long breath that cascades down Eris' throat and his chest. "But that doesn't mean that I have stopped thinking about you." 

"I haven't stopped thinking about you either," Eris admits, voice equally breathy, his hand sliding around Azriel's waist, bringing him closer. "Night and day, you have been on my mind. No matter what I tried, no matter who I was with, it was always you on my mind."

"It was always you, Eris." Azriel's Adam's apple bobs. They breathe the same air, their bodies almost flush against one another. And yet, it feels as if there are millennia between them. The time they have missed.

"Why haven't you told me before?"

"Because I was worried about you. I knew you would find a way to get to me and reach out, and if Beron found out–" Azriel inhales a long breath, his eyes close. "I never knew loving could hurt this good. And it drives me wild, 'cause when you look like that, I've never ever wanted to be so bad; oh god, you are still driving wild, Eris."

"You are driving me wild, Azriel," Eris huffs. "Showing up here like that, looking like that, and–fuck, I still want you the same way. Is that even possible after such a long time?"

Their lips meet in a hasty kiss, and their feet, even Azriel's injured one, move fully on their own accord until Azriel's back is pressed against the wall of the garden shed. Eris' hands vigorously roam his body, tongues tangling when their mouths open to one another. 

Eris' hands and lips still know their way around, and it truly drives Azriel wild and insane. He feels like he is once again getting drunk on the taste of Eris, on the feel of his body against his own, and it seems like a fever dream that this is truly happening. 

"You still want me, Eris?" Azriel breathes, their lips only parting for a slight second.

"Yes." Eris pushes against him, making him feel exactly how hard he already is, only from a few kisses. "I've never stopped wanting you. No one felt like you. Nothing felt like being with you. It was only ever you. And still is. I've wanted to hate you so much for leaving me alone, but I failed."

"I'm glad you did, because I did too. I failed at trying to forget you, at stopping to love you."

Eris' lips kiss a trail down the side of Azriel's throat, teeth grazing his skin softly and eliciting soft sighs from his former best friend. "You want me now?"

"I always want you, Eris," Azriel pants. "I have always wanted you."

Their bodies move fully on their own accord, guided and driven by sheer desire and need, the longing that has grown so much and so stark over the time they were apart. And after asking for Azriel's consent, there is no more holding back for Eris. For either of them. 

Eris lowers himself to the ground, kneeling, and starts to toy with the button and the zipper on Azriel's jeans. They ignore the fact that they are outside, in the garden where people could see them. Their need for each other right here and now drowns out every little part of rationality. 

After freeing Azriel's already half-hard length, Eris strokes him a few times, loving the soft, breathy gasps that leave Azriel in reaction to his doing. He smooths his hand down the hard length of his shaft, the skin yet soft beneath his palm, and then parts his lips. 

"Ten fucking years," Eris rasps, tongue swirling to collect the bead of liquid already gathered at the tip before fully sucking him into his mouth.

He works him softly at first, and Azriel finds himself moaning at the feeling of his cock engulfed in the wet heat of Eris' mouth, his hand falling into his long red locks, tugging softly at first. Eris begins to suck harder and move his mouth a little faster; his hand grips the back of his mouth, holding on tightly. 

Using his mouth and hand together, Eris hollows his cheeks and holds eye contact with Azriel, which is everything he needs to tip him over the edge. He bucks his hips into Eris' face until he comes with a shout, and Eris greedily swallows around him, drinking him down like he has been a starved male for centuries. 

"Fuck yes!" Eris expresses when he sits back on his heels. He locks his hooded gaze on Azriel, his hand wiping over the drool and Azriel's come running down his cheek. "I've missed this."

"I missed you," Azriel answers and bends down, reaching for Eris to bring him in for a kiss, but cries out when his ankle twitches again. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"You regret what we did?"

"No," Eris answers tightly, carefully tending Azriel's ankle and applying the last bit of cream still on his fingertips. He wipes them clean on a cloth hanging from the table and picks up a bandage. Before he continues, he adjusts Azriel's leg on his lap. "No, I don't."

The moment Azriel cries out in pain, Eris immediately knows he needs to take care of Azriel's leg. He drags him inside the house to examine the injury despite Azriel's protests. Only a minute later, they ended up in the kitchen of Eris' home, now sitting at the dining table that is still familiar to Azriel, with only a small oil lamp lit on the kitchen counter.

"But why are you so calm then?" Azriel asks, hoping to catch his eyes, but Eris keeps looking at his ankle.

"I am just thinking…"

"About?"

"About us."

Us. It still sounds so beautiful, and when Eris says it, it gives Azriel hope.

"What did it feel like…going away, I mean." Eris lifts his eyes for a brief moment, hoping to catch his gaze.

Azriel sighs loudly. "It was awful. The first days, weeks, months. I only cried. I made new friends in New York that helped me out of my misery, but that doesn't mean I didn't miss you daily. I always thought about you and knew you were feeling the same." He wipes a hand over his eyes. "I knew that if I called you, I would only make it worse. For both of us. There was no way we could see each other again any time soon…"

Eris nods slowly. "I gave up at some point. I called a few times, but you never answered. Then, Beron forced me to delete your number and all the pictures I had with you. I could save a few on my computer, but the rest was all gone."

"All of our silly videos and photos?" Azriel asks and places his hand on Eris'. The man nods in answer.

"I'll try to find them on my old phone. I'm sure I still have it somewhere." A small smile appears on his lips and a little light returns to his eyes. "Also, those with your little brother." Azriel chuckles softly. "How is Lucien?"

"A menace," Eris breathes. "He was a sweet boy until puberty hit him with full force. He was all about girls and his appearance, but he still did well in school. He has been dating the same girl for a few years now. They got together when they were fourteen and are still going strong. She might be his soulmate. Elain, she's a sweet girl."

Azriel smiles at that. "I'm glad he's doing well."

"Yeah," Eris sighs. He deserves a good life. "He will be here for the funeral. He said it is a kind of closure."

Azriel nods slowly. "Did he move away?"

"No," Eris answers, "but he spends every other weekend with his biological dad." 

Azriel remembers the little affair, the unspoken story of how Lucien and Eris only share a mother. Eris found out about it very early on and obviously told Azriel. Back then, they shared everything with each other.

"I'm glad to hear he has contact with him now." Azriel inhales deeply. At least someone has luck with their father, he thinks. 

Eris smiles, at least a little, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "I've always hoped you would just show up here again someday. I even thought about going to New York, but I thought I would make a fool out of myself – suddenly showing up in the big city with hopes and dreams for us while it was possible that you were already married or at least had a partner."

A breathy chuckle leaves Azriel. "I was dating a few people in the ten years, but it never felt right. It never felt as right as it did with you."

"I know what you mean, Azriel. I know this feeling." Eris inhales a long, deep breath. "I've always thought it was because you will never forget your first love, and somehow they will always be important to you, but I now know that it is because there is no one in this world like you. I fell in love with you because you are my counterpart and everything I could and would ever hope for in a partner. I fell in love with everything about you, and no one would ever compare to you."

Azriel's fingers curl tighter around Eris, and he leans in, kissing his lips softly. "No one compares to you. I fell in love with your charm and wonderful character and soon realized that no one is like you. You are one in a million, and finding someone like you…I was the luckiest idiot on this planet until I ruined everything."

"Beron ruined it."

"I did, too." Azriel shakes his head. "I shouldn't have given up that easily. I should have fought for us. I should have fought Beron for you. I should have fought for our future."

Eris swallows thickly, a tear rolling down his cheek. "I broke up with you; maybe I shouldn't have given up that easily, either. Let's agree that we both made mistakes and didn't do everything right, but this was in the past. Let it be in the past and focus on the future."

"Can you forgive me so easily?" Azriel asks, his heart heavy, his stomach churning. He bites down on the inside of his cheeks.

Eris' shoulders lift with a deep breath. "I can, if you can forgive me for everything I've said."

"I can." Eris nips at Azriel's lips, then lets his forehead rest against Azriel's. "You will go back to New York tomorrow, right?"

"I'll ask my boss to allow me to stay a little longer," Azriel whispers. "He is one of my closest mates. He won't say no." He kisses the corner of Eris' lips. "But yes, I will have to return in a few days. I have my work there and…I can't give everything up there so easily."

"I know. I wouldn't want you to give up everything there." Eris' eyes close, and his heart sinks into his gut. He wants to leave with Azriel and move to the big city with him, but can he leave everything here behind so easily? 

He has no job at the moment, as he has been taking care of his ill father in the past months and had to take leave and then quit. It wasn't easy, but working as a doctor before earned him a bit of money that he had on the side, which tided him over the months. So technically, he could start anew in the big city. But that would mean leaving everything here behind: his mother, his brothers.

"My apartment in New York is definitely made for two people, so…" A hopeful smile appears on Azriel's lips. 

Eris smiles in return; this time, it reaches his eyes, where hope and anticipation spark to life. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"Are you ready?" Azriel looks at him, holding eye contact, although Eris seems to find reciprocating difficult. 

Beron has never been a good father, but the funeral day isn't easy. Beron was still his father, and from time to time, they had good moments, moments where they could laugh and smile together. But those days were sparse. 

He inhales a deep breath and exhales loudly. "I am."

Everyone is already inside; he and Azriel are the only people still left outside. The funeral will only begin when he enters, so he allows himself this time to breathe and collect himself, knowing he is not missing anything inside. 

"I really am." He nods slowly. "You will sit with me?" Eris swallows thickly. "Stay with me?"

"Always," Azriel answers. I will never, ever leave you again." He pulls down the door handle, and they enter together. They stroll down the aisle leading to the altar together, their steps synchronised until they reach their bench, where Eris' mother and two of his brothers are already sitting. 

Azriel's hand naturally slides into Eris when he sits down beside him. The pastor steps onto the dais, and piano music starts to sound from the back of the chapel. 

"I'm here for you, Eris," Azriel whispers, not turning to look at Eris but staring straight ahead at the coffin. "Forever."

"Forever?"

"Forever. Move to New York with me." 

Eris doesn't give him a verbal answer, only squeezes his hand in response, yet a slight smile that feels so out of place for a funeral appears on his lips. Always sounds just too good. Especially when it means forever with Azriel.

general Azris tag list (please let me know if you want to be added/removed): @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @talibunny30 @berryzxx

thank you so much for beta reading @pippsmcgee and @moonlightazriel 💛

[slowgravity]

TROYE SIVAN 2024 | via Instagram (April 28)

[oliversick]

oliver's once in a lifetime, handjob on a hay bale, golden, big boy summer! listen here ♪

1. charmless man - blur / 2. venus as a boy - björk / 3. time to pretend - mgmt / 4. can't get you out of my head - kylie minogue / 5. one way or another - blondie / 6. i will follow him - peggy march / 7. paparazzi - lady gaga / 8. i bet you look good on the dancefloor - arctic monkeys / 9. i want you - pulp / 10. one of your girls - troye sivan / 11. satisfaction - benny benassi, the biz / 12. disco tits - tove lo / 13. dare - gorillaz / 14. girls & boys - blur, pet shop boys / 15. nice docs, baby! - blue foster / 16. let me think about it - ida corr, fedde le grand / 17. die young - kesha / 18. rent - pet shop boys / 19. the fear - lily allen / 20. mr. brightside - the killers / 21. god's gift - the london suede / 22. vampires - pet shop boys / 23. come together - blur / 24. take me out - franz ferdinand / 25. loneliness - tomcraft / 26. in cold blood - alt j / 27. choke - idkhow / 28. goodnight socialite - the brobecks / 29. heavy cross - gossip / 30. murder on the dancefloor - sophie ellis-bextor

[frootielooties]

.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆🪩.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆ .⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚🎀｡⋆.⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆.

hii, i’m jules !! welcome to my blog :)

i’ll start off by saying that i am okay with adult mutuals as long and you understand and respect that i’m a minor!! what i am not okay with is anyone who detests someone because of race, gender identity, or sexuality. zionists are not welcome or respected here either!!

i reblog things i think are cool, but sometimes i’ll make gifs of new music videos i love and am excited about!!

i love music of pretty much any genre, that and music artists are the majority of what i blog about. i also love collecting cds and records, i’m trying to get into a habit of posting about them more.

♫ artists i love: the 1975(!!!) , arctic monkeys, beabadoobee, bleachers (!!), boygenius, chappell roan (!!), charli xcx (!!), clairo, claud, conan gray, the dare(!!!), djo, dua lipa, ethel cain (!!), fka twigs, harry styles, inhaler, lana del rey, the last shadow puppets, lorde, mitski, muna, my chemical romance, nicole dollanganger (!), olivia rodrigo, one direction, phoebe bridgers, samia, sky ferreira, steel train, taylor swift (!!!), troye sivan, tyler the creator, wallows (!!), zayn

i’ll update the list as life goes on 🫡 if you have any recs feel free to dm me!! i love listening to new things <33

✩ my concerts: wallows (oct 10, 2022), taylor swift (may 6, 2023), bleachers (may 28, 2024), wallows (august 20, 2024)

❀ other things i love: pink, winter, timothée chalamet, animal crossing, minecraft, pinterest, makeup, nail polish, landscapes, art, house decor, over the garden wall, letterboxd, dachshunds, fnaf, books, jewelry, bones and all, magazines, spirited away, weenie dogs, concerts, tulips, wes anderson movies

❀ dm me for anything!! i swear i don’t mind, i love talking to new people :))

❀ asks are always welcome!!

❀ i try to make my blog comfortable for everybody and anybody, no matter who you are or what you identify as

♡ my favorite blogs - @cottoncandywhispers @seals-are-cool @kosmogrl @mothprincess @heavenfalls @hromantics @petitworld @controlmyfeet @chloesevigny @beachesgetpeaches @hereyeswerefilledwiththestars @touteslesfilles @stayinsidemymind @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @viennaangel @alltheliars @allmyusualtricks @zandrapaints @haniishu @nikswonderland @evermqres

[izzyliker]

it’s so feminist of azelia banks to use the annoying “these women are appealing to pedophiles by being short and flat chested and shaving their pussy which makes them actually complacent in sexual violence against children” misogynistic argument against troye sivan, a man whose crime is literally just being 28, clean shaven, and skinny 😍 like yes girl we did it we cooked the twinks who are enabling pedophilia simply by existing & also daring to be adults who don’t pretend they’re not sexual beings

[scoops-stevie-archive]

history, huh

bet we could make some

1. american teen - khalid 2. think of england - bear's den 3. speechless - dan + shay 4. 10,000 hours - dan +shay, justin bieber 5. miss you all the time - o.a.r. 6. don't stop me now - queen 7. bailamos - enrique iglesias 8. your song - elton john 9. annie's song - john denver 10. miss you - louis tomlinson 11. they don't know about us - one direction 12. take me to church - hozier 13. i like me better - lauv 14. gone, gone, gone - phillip phillips 15. youth - troye sivan 16. talk - khalid, disclsure 17. heroes - david bowie 18. under pressure - queen, david bowie 19. white roses - greyson chance 20. get low - lil john 21. boys - charlie xcx 22. one thing right - marshmello, kane brown 23. valentine (instrumental version - luchs 24. as it should be - luchs 25. floating, floating - august wilhelmsson 26. hush - luna meguise 27. for him. - troye sivan 28 - as the world caves in - sarah cothran

[kanmom51]

Jungkook Seven masterlist

Is JK’s first solo album coming 14.7.23

Yaaaaas peeps

So, apparently this is happening

Seven is coming

Seven

14 July 2023

OK then

We will be getting Seven on the radio

JK 'Seven' Campaign Behind-The-Scenes Film

Magnate special event 14 July 2023

This needs to stop

Just one more piece to the puzzle

JK Seven recording film preview

JK Incheon airport 12 July 2023

Oh and reminder

Seven MV teaser

JM leaving for NY 13 July 2023

Just a few hours to go

JK talking about Seven

Just in case I didn't make myself clear enough

The black and white couple walking the streets of NY together.

Should I tell her?

Seven JK MV

Now what's this?

Seven dance challenge

Seven members reactions

Seven JK MV a little sum up

JK is in the house

Do tell me - is this another coincidence?

More JK pre GMA

Rainbow poster in Background of laundromat Seven MV

Black N' White at GMA

More JK GMA performance pics

JK on GMA

JK ‘Seven (feat. Latto)’ MV Behind Short Film

Jung Kook’s on a mission to wish ARMY sweet dreams | Spotipoly Game Teaser

Something is coming

Jung Kook ‘Seven (feat. Latto)’ MV Photo Sketch

Jung Kook dives into a ball pit to answer ARMY’s burning questions - teaser

JK GMA practice behind short film

Tommy posting for JK

JK 17 July 2023 (NY time)

JK on set with Spotify behind the scenes

PolyC IG 18 July 2023

JK on his way to London

JM you rascal you

JK live 18 July 2023

Troye Sivan's IG 19 July 2023

JK going to perform on BBC Radio 1 live lounge

JK on Elvis Duran 19 July 2023

Vogue backstage with JK for GMA

JK on Bruontheradio - coming soon - a post about that but also so much more

JK interview with Weverse magazine

JK Seven first M countdown win 20 July 2023

JK BBC 1 Radio live lounge

JK on Z100 20 July 2023

JK Seven MV making sketch BTB

JK BBC Radio 1 live lounge behind

Again and again

JK performance BBC 1 21 July 2023

JK pinky ring

JK Seven dance practice

JK back from London 24 July 2023

JK BBC behind

New JK Seven pics (Rolling Stone UK)

JK BBC 1 show - JK in English

JK #1

Another coincidence (not) - Magnate

1st to congratulate JK

Seven recording film

JK #1 M Countdown again 27 July 2023

JK 28 July 2023 live

JK Suchwita - JK's whiskey bottle placement

JK at Inkigayo recording 30 July 2023

JK Inkigayo 30 July 2023

I swear he's out to get me.

Seven JK - 7 cut photos

JK Inkigayo photos

JK Seven challenge with Mingyu 🤣🤣

JK Seven dance

Born for the stage

JK and JM D-day Black N White pics

So Yeah

Why more photos you may ask?

Team JM doing Seven challenge

Photo by JK 8 August 2023

JK Seven challenge 30 August 2023