#i want nothing more than ART and Pin-Lee to get on like a house on fire | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yolkyeomie · 4 years ago

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The Art of Hearts | Lee Juyeon

summary — trembling hands? flushed face? nervous stuttering? this wasn’t like you, you’ve never reacted like this to anyone before. so why is it that when you were with him you acted this way?

word count — 17.2k words

pairing — juyeon x female!reader (w/ mentions of chanhee, sunwoo, younghoon, and hyunjae)

genre — princess!reader, knight!juyeon, fluff with a hint of angst if you really squint, slowburn-ish, strangers to lovers-ish

disclaimer — mentions of minor violence and sword fighting !! I spent three days writing this through a hyper fixation and I REFUSE to get this beta read, so if u see any errors pretend like you didn’t see it at all 👁 this is also really self indulgent and I’ve never even written for tbz I’m so so sorry if this is extremely inaccurate

You were a little upset with yourself, you weren’t going to lie. For the past few months you had found yourself curiously leaning over your balcony railing, trying your best to catch a quick glance of all the knights in training that were just a few feet below. Eagerly you watched as they honed their skills, determination fueling their bones as they swung, slashed, and clanged their dull and worn out swords against each other in a mock battle.

They fought with all their might to become the next knights of your kingdom’s army or the next royal guards that would patrol the palace with the king and his family. Though, you knew that your mere presence made them strive for their goal even harder than before. Who wouldn’t want to demonstrate their rising abilities in front of the princess of their nation?

Your prying eyes made them itch with anticipation and wonder. Will they get a chance to greet you if they flaunted hard enough? To take your dainty hands in theirs, rough with hard work and tenacity, and place a gentle kiss atop your skin?

You weren’t interested in them, per se. In fact you had never been very interested in the upcoming knights that trained in the barracks below you. Since you were a child, the tiara and gown lifestyle wasn’t really for you, longing to hold the hilt of a long sword within your hands and slash your opponent in one clean swing. You wanted to fight, you wanted to run, you wanted to get rough and dirty with the knights that were sworn to protect your kingdom. It had been your biggest dream and fascination to even sit in on one singular match between the generals and their young and hopeful squires.

However, the amount of times you’ve been scolded for your unattainable dreams was too many to count on one finger. How unprecedented of you to even think such a thought! Young ladies are to never step foot on the battlefield, dirtier their long gowns or scraping their soft skins, that’s what you’ve been told. The swords are for the young men who fight for their country and the women who stay home and wait for them. A sword was to never be picked up by a lady, especially the princess.

But it was so boring! Why must you have to sit and smile like a porcelain doll too expensive to be rough housed with? You could never understand how your mother, how past queens and princesses, could handle such a repetitive job. Smile for the allies, smile for your king, smile for your people, and most importantly, produce an heir that will make the kingdom thrive. That was nothing you wanted to do!

Yet you were the only child of your nation’s queen and king, so that’s what was expected of you. You had no brother to hide behind and force to take the throne. You had no sister you could hide behind and force to smile and wave. You had to do it without any questions and without any backlash.

You’d think they’d at least let you learn to defend yourself since you were the only heir to the throne? Sure you will have royal guards protecting you for a majority of your life but it wasn’t bad to be a little precautious just in case a happy incident occurred.

Just thinking about the mistreatment made you frown, slumping over the balcony railing with a huff and using your hand to prop up your head in annoyance. Not even watching the knights-to-be scramble to display their tiny growing muscles or aimlessly swinging their blades around could make you feel any better.

And then you heard it, a deep and loud horn echoing across from the barracks all the way to the balcony you stood on. It caught your attention almost immediately, standing up straight and leaning over the railing to see what was going on. Unfortunately you hear what they must be saying from the height you were at, but the slow opening of the barrack gates was enough to clue you in on what was happening next.

“Oh, I’m just in time!” A voice chirped behind you, your skin jumping off its bones at their sudden appearance. You turn your head innocently to catch the sight of a fellow member of royalty slinking you to your side, his tiny physique making his footsteps light and silent as he stepped across the marble flooring of the balcony.

“Why, if it isn’t his Royal Highness, Prince Choi Chanhee of Fantasia!” You teased, watching as he rolled his eyes at his formal title. Only recently had the boy been pronounced the next king of his nation and he still wasn't used to the new form of address he had been given. You took this as an opportunity to poke fun at him, knowing all of the times he’s done the exact same to you. “What do I owe the pleasure of seeing his Royal Highness today?”

“You are so annoying,” Chanhee snided, earning a knowing smile from you as he leaned over the balcony railing just as you did before. “My father has come to discuss some important matters with your family, something involving the trading between the two kingdoms. I was forced to tag along being the next heir and I came to give you a bit of company, but it seems as though you’re already a little preoccupied.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at his last words, knowing he was trying to jab right back at you for watching the squires of your kingdom. “Very funny, Chanhee, but I’m not here to watch the scrawny pretty boy’s fight for a simple smile from me.”

“You find enjoyment in their pinning though, I know you do,” He noted, not taking his eyes off the barrack gates. They were completely open now, leading out into the field that was right front of the balcony the two of you were standing on. “You would never give a singular one of these men a chance because the little she-devil inside of you likes toying with their hearts.”

“You describe me so coldly, it hurts,” you laugh, watching a smile etch on the prince’s face at your words. You enjoyed your little banter like this, fighting back and forth like a pair of siblings rather than potential suitors. And let it be known that everyone in the palace wanted Chanhee to be the one who would finally court you, but he didn’t seem too interested in the idea either.

Once again a horn was blown to catch the attention of the people, it’s deep sound resonated across the field and the two of you turned your gazes towards the barracks once more. This is what Chanhee was looking forward to, the weekly evaluation that the knights-to-be of your kingdom endured four days every month. To be honest, you looked forward to it as well, as it usually was used as a way to not only assess the squires but show off the power of the kingdom’s next knights and royal guards.

After a few moments two horses shot out of the barrack gates, galloping across the open field at such intense speeds that if you blinked you would have missed them.

“This week is archery!” Chanhee exclaimed, clapping his hands together in glee as he pointed out the worn red targets that were placed about the field.

You narrowed your eyes as you finally settled your eyes upon one individual, Chanhee’s gaze following the other rider as they rode in the wind. The boy you were watching was riding upon a black stead, the steeds jet black coat nearly matching his slate colored hair. The only reason you could see the boy upon the black horse was because of his contrasting blue tunic and the evergreen colored grass underneath them.

As the two approached the first target, the boy began to rise off of the saddle straightening his back as lifting up a bow and arrow held in his hands. He focused in on the target in front of him, quickly snatching an arrow out of the quiver strapped around his back and nocking his bow. Both you and Chanhee watched in silence as the boys drawed back on their bowstrings, aiming carefully for the bullseye with unheard precision.

Thwish! Chanhee’s boy was the first to release his arrow, the object flying through the air and sinking deep into the plywood of the target. The boy let out a cheer as his chestnut steed began to pick up the page, charging straight for the other two targets that were left to clear. Only a few seconds after the first the boy you were watching released his arrow, stabbing into the target just as, if not harder, into the target than the first.

There was no cheering coming from him, no gesture of victory, not even a hint of an eager smile. He only grabbed onto the reins of his horse and commanded it to continue forth.

After the first moment of hesitation, he was no longer the one waiting for his fellow knight-to-be to make the first move. He surpassed the other boy in a matter of seconds, shooting his arrows deep into the plywood targets in a heartbeat.

“That’s incredible,” Chanhee couldn’t help but comment, reaching out for your arm as he stared down at the field in pure amusement. “Did you catch that Y/N? Each one of those shots, straight into the bullseye? And on the back of horse running at full speed? He’s inhuman, there’s no other way.”

“What can I say?” You bragged, a smile donning in your face as the boy’s horse began to slow into a casual trot. Only then did the remnants of a grin don his face, basking in his easily gained victory. “My kingdom’s soldiers are the best in the region? There is a reason everyone wants to be our allies and not our enemies? The boys from the village could crush yours in a fell swoop.”

The current squires weren’t everything to brag about now, but once they finished training? Ascending to the ranks of knights and royal guards? They were unstoppable, worthy of not only your praise, but the kingdom’s as well.

“That’s so unfair,” Chanhee pouted, stepping away from the balcony to throw a small fit. It was nothing too serious, just blowing off some steam from being the lesser royal member in the room. “You should really send some of your knights to Fantasia once you become queen. We could really use the unstoppable knights of your kingdom to better protect our own.”

You snort at his words, glancing down towards the open field where the targets laid. “Not a chance, your Royal Highness,” you tell him, your eyes glued to the slate colored hair of the squire below you. In a heartbeat he turned his head to the balcony, turning to the side like a dog as his gaze met yours. “Not a chance.”

II.

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn,” you say, your brain barely keeping up with the words that were spilling out of your mouth. “But what? You’re doing what?”

Your father couldn’t help but smile at your confusion, leading you down the busy hallway of the barracks. Any knight or general that would walk the same path as the two of you would gasp and bow before you, letting the king and his daughter pass them before even daring to continue on their way. Squires young and old would all gawk and stare from the windows and doorways of their rooms, their gazes never leaving their sovereign’s side until they were out of view.

You were in the barracks. For the first time in your life you were walking the corridors of the knight’s barracks, their training grounds, side by side with your father’s permission. Sure, you were still dressed in the long feet covering dress and shiny silver crown you had inherited so it meant you were not going to do any sort of fighting while you were here, but they didn’t matter to you. This was a big step for you to be taking in first place! Just walking within the barracks was a simple dream come true.

“Progress has been made,” your father’s royal adviser spoke first, explaining the situation to you as simply as he could. “The general in charge of training the newest squires from around the nation had reported that he believed that some of them were ready to ascend the ranks. So your father is here to judge and give the final verdict personally.”

“You saw the evaluation a week ago, didn’t you?” Your father suddenly asked you.

Your brain was doing marathons around the room as they spoke to you, trying your best to keep up with the conversation. Though the mentioning of the weekly evaluation snapped you back into reality, remembering the talented boy that rode across the field on the black stallion and easily demolished his competition. “Of course,” you responded, a little too fast for your liking. Quickly you added on, “who doesn’t remember the evaluation? Prince Chanhee was so impressed by the skills of our knights-to-be that he begged me to send some to his kingdom.”

“I know,” your father sneering, reminiscing over a memory you hadn’t witnessed. “These boys, the ones I’m going to evaluate, are around your age. I thought it was useful for you to see them personally, as there is a very strong potential that you’ll be growing as the next queen alongside them.”

“So…,” you mumble, stopping with your father in front of the door archway led to the courtyard where most of the knights-to-be were being held. “No training with the knights?”

Your father shot you a glance before laughing to himself, allowing his royal advisor to pass by him and walk out first into the courtyard. “No training with the knights.”

“May I present to you, his Majesty the King and Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/N!”

Both you and your father stepped out into the courtyard, everyone in the vicinity of the two of you bowing in respect. Your father spoke a few words to the general in charge, an exchange of words you didn’t quite catch. You were too distracted by your surroundings to focus on what was being spoken to you.

The ground around the archways was paved in cement, creating a small pathway to be walked on around the courtyard. Yet in the middle courtyard was completely dirt, grass only making an appearance in spotty areas from being traversed on so many times. The dirt stained the hem of your dress with a brown tint, having it been raining a few nights before and the ground hadn’t completely soaked up all of the water that had been doused upon it.

But you didn’t mind, why would you care about your dress when you were finally in the barracks! Your eyes were glued to the more important things, like the targets that were hung up against the walls with arrows puncturing the wood or the many dull swords and swords that were littered across the ground forgotten with the king and your arrival.

You must look like an idiot as you looked around the barracks like it was the most exquisite place of the century. To them squires, it was just another building that barely had anything to give. But to you? This was heaven on Earth, the garden of Eden in a cold and unforgiving world.

“General, please, no need to flatter,” your father’s voice spoke, finally snapping you out of your daydream-like state. When you looked up towards him, he was laughing and smiling with the man over all of the knights-to-be, turning towards the younger boys with an expectant glint in his eyes. “I am here to see the potential we’ve gathered within our ranks.”

“Of course, your Majesty!” He replied in an instant, turning towards the young men as urging a few of them to stand in front of him. It was only three of the boys close to your age that stood before you and king. “These are our finest boys to date, great fighters they’ve proven themselves to be, and hopefully even greater knights as well. Kim Sunwoo, Kim Younghoon, and our prized apprentice,”

It was him, the boy who has easily shot three arrows into a target’s bullseye on horseback. “Lee Juyeon.” You had never seen the boy up close before, you had never seen any of the knights-to-be up close before yet somehow, he made you falter. Your breath stopped upon finally laying eyes on him, unknowingly eying him as you tried to regain control of your brain. You weren’t used to this, being the person who was struggling to compose themselves, it was usually the other way around.

Most knights and knights-to-be were all talk and no bite, carefully trying to court you with sweet words and no skills to back up their courageous attitudes. Not even a single bat of an eyelash could make you want to give them the time of day. Yet Juyeon simply stood there, his head held high with well earned confidence and naturally captivating looks. He knew he was better off than most of the boys that had been spent off to become knights for the king, he must know!

Why else would he drop his gaze from his father to you, unspoken words passing between the two of you before he turned back towards your father. He knew you, he recognized you, and he was simply going to continue about his day. It killed you to know that you had been caught lacking, bewitched by his skills and appearance after being known as the princess who plays with knights for so long.

Was anyone watching you? Of course they were watching you, you were the princess and were standing right next to the king! Everyone must have seen you gawking at the boy before you and who could tell what was racing through their minds now?

“You're the boy from the weekly evaluation last week, aren’t you?” Your father questioned, addressing Juyeon first. You glanced between the two men for a moment, racking your brain around so you could follow along with the conversation. “Mounted archery, black horse?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” he responded politely, his voice making your hands twitch with a sudden spark. Immediately you put your hands behind your back, fumbling and fidgeting with your fingers nervously. How did he do that? The boy said three words and now your body was beginning to lose control!

You pinched the inside of your palm, cursing at yourself for allowing yourself to act in such a way. What was wrong with this? This wasn’t supposed to happen, you weren’t supposed to be reacting this way to a person you had just met!

Your father gasped in response to Juyeon’s answer, not even noticing your change in demeanor. “They don’t call you the finest for no reason then. Truly, your one of the most talented people I’ve seen come into our barracks in years. How long have you been with us, Juyeon? It must have been a year or so, hasn’t it?”

“You flatter me, your Majesty,” he smiled, his ears burning at the compliments given by the sovereign. “It’s only been two months.”

“Two months?” Both you and father exclaimed, sharing nearly identical expressions of shock. You cover your mouth with your hands, not meaning to speak out of turn. Your father cleared his throat not long after, trying to shake off the minor embarrassment from reacting in such a way.

Juyeon didn’t seem to mind though, his smile growing from ear to ear as he glanced over towards you once again. Your eyes followed his as he leaned down just slightly before speaking to you. “Are you okay, your highness?” He questioned, his own hands twitching from their place at his sides.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” you quickly reply to him, cutting the conversation short between the two of you almost immediately. Was your face red? You hoped it wasn’t red, that would have been embarrassing.

The entire courtyard’s breath stopped as they started at the two of you. Juyeon, the finest upcoming knight, and you, the princess of the kingdom, spoke to each other. Out of turn and slightly more casual than expected, none of the knights and squires had ever gotten close enough to even get a decent response from you. Yet Juyeon had not only gotten a reaction out of you, but a flustered response as well!

“Juyeon,” your father called, snapping the boy’s attention from you to the king. Thank the heavens he stopped looking at you, you didn’t know how much longer it was going to be until you melted on the spot. You hated it, the sudden and newfound emotions the squire was putting you through. Your head was going to explode if you shared one more conversation with him, and that was barely a conversation to begin with. “How good are you with a sword?”

“Excellent, your Majesty,” the general cut in, giving the boy a stern pat on the back. Juyeon didn’t move from the position he was standing in, but it definitely looked as though he felt the brunt of the general’s hit. “He probably rivals those of the recruits from last year, already on their level or higher.”

“Perfect,” the king smiled, glancing around the courtyard for a moment. Before turning back towards the general and Juyeon. “Then shall we have a mock battle? If you don’t mind, I’d like to see your skills in action.”

“Of course,” Juyeon responded, “I can do anything for you, your Majesty.”

III.

“What the hell was that?!” Sunwoo yelled, punching Juyeon in the shoulder as hard as he possibly could. The boy winced as a result, numb from the mock battle he had participated in just a few minutes earlier. Though he didn’t retaliate like he should have, slumping into the bed that was provided for all the knights within the barracks. He was exhausted, having to exert a lot more energy than he was used to in order to impress the king as best as he could.

Had he known the king and the princess were visiting the barracks today, he wouldn’t have stayed up the night before.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Juyeon responded, his voice muffled against the worm pillow he laid his head on.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” the boy insisted, twirling the dull longsword in his hands by the hilt. He stopped as he pointed the tip at Juyeon’s back, threateningly hovering the blade over him. “You? And the princess? Flirting not only in front of our faces, but the king’s face? Are you crazy or what!”

“I wasn’t flirting with the princess,” he answered, turning to snatch the sword out of Sunwoo’s hands. He wasn’t even supposed to be bringing weapons within the sleeping quarters, all of those were supposed to stay within the barracks army for safety reasons. “I have no reason to flirt with the princess.”

“You were kinda flirting with the princess man,” Younghoon spoke from the other side of the room, glancing at the two boys with a curious glint in his eyes. Juyeon had totally forgotten he was even with them, quietly slinking around the room to eavesdrop on Sunwoo and his conversation. Usually he could tell when the boy was trying to sneak around them, but it seemed as though he was too tired and preoccupied to notice this time. “I mean, what else could that whole situation with you and princess have been?”

“I said like five words!” Juyeon insisted, holding the right amount of fingers up. “Five! How could I have flirted with her when all I asked was if she was okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, leave out the important details like the way you were smiling at her when you spoke to her,” Sunwoo pointed out. “Or the way you specifically were fighting much harder than normal to catch her attention during the mock battle? Huh? How do you explain that?”

“The king!” The boy argued, “the king was right there! Did you want me to slack off right in front of the sovereign of our kingdom and embarrass myself? You saw the way the general and king kept showering me with compliments, I had no choice.”

Younghoon shook his head in disappointment before dropping it up with his arms and speaking. “The princess couldn’t keep her eyes off you man, you suddenly became eye candy for her. And it definitely wasn’t just because your skills were really good, the princess doesn’t know enough about swordsmanship in order to be watching you for your skills.”

“You don’t…,” Juyeon stuttered, trying to find a way to defend himself. “You don’t know that…”

“Yes, I do,” Younghoon confirmed. “Everyone knows the princess barely knows a lick of swordsmanship. She was watching you, Juyeon.”

He knew that, everyone knew that the princess didn’t know anything about fighting in general. It’s the first thing that a person learns upon reaching the barracks from their hometowns, the princess does not know how to fight. She’s tried for years to run towards the barracks to even just watch the knights train their apprentices but every time she’s been denied access to the barracks.

Truth be told, he also knew that the princess was watching him during the mock battle too. How could he not, for every glance he threw the king’s way he would nearly make direct eye contact with the king’s daughter. Juyeon would quickly look away, ducking below blades that were swung above his head or dodging a jab that was aimed directly at his chest.

Everyone wanted to impress the king and the princess now, knowing that it was up to the king to decide whether or not they’d ascend the ranks and become fully fledged knights. The only thing in their way was Juyeon, the two month old apprentice from the more rural area of the kingdom. If they could take down him in a mock battle, or even get a small nick on his body, they’d get a sure fire way into the ranks of knights and royal guards.

The mere fact that the princess was accompanying her father for the first time ever wasn’t really in their favor either. Juyeon knew how much everyone adored the princess of their kingdom, scrambling and begging for just a peek of her from the balcony above the barracks. Now she had been right in front of their faces, breathing the same air as them and watching them carefully for the first time in her life. There could be no mess ups here, for who knew when they’d next see the princess within the walls of the barracks once again.

But it seemed as though Juyeon continuously kept snatching up every little opportunity there was to catch her attention. It wasn’t even on purpose, but his charms and skills stood up more than anyone else who had fought against him.

It’s impossible to catch any woman’s attention when Juyeon stood in the way.

The worst part about it was that he didn’t even mind all the attention he was receiving. Usually he’d humble himself, placing his fellow peers on a pedestal to try and uplift them and provide a source of support and strength for them. Yet the electrifying feeling he got from watching the princess’s face shift from bewilderment to flustered was addictive in the worst way possible, Juyeon almost cracked a smile just thinking about it. His power was truly unrivaled in a way he didn’t even mean for it to be.

Juyeon covered face with his hand, trying his best to conceal the ever growing flush on his face. This feeling… it shouldn’t have been this addictive.

“Either way,” Sunwoo began, cutting straight through Juyeon's thoughts like a sword to the chest. “You can’t be flirting with the princess.”

“Why not?” He asked, responding a little faster than he anticipated. Both Younghoon and Sunwoo gave him a knowing look, as if the boy had confirmed their suspicions of courting the king’s daughter. “I’m not saying I was, god! I’m just asking… why I can’t if I ever wanted to try…”

“Number one!” Sunwoo called out.

“There are dozens of knights trying to court her at this very second,” Younghoon pointed out. “Becoming one of those people will not only give you an unfair advantage but also make you gain a lot more enemies than you think. I’m almost one hundred percent sure you don’t want to mess with the already established and trusted knights within the king’s circle.”

“Number two!”

“She’s a princess, daughter of the king of the entire nation,” Younghoon stated, pointing an accusing finger towards Juyeon. “What are you compared to that?”

Juyeon rolled his eyes at their words, leaning up against the bed once again before answering. “I’m a knight’s apprentice, son of a barely known blacksmith in the rural areas of the kingdom.”

“You’ve got nothing to offer. She’s got a whole kingdom, you’ve got nothing but a sword and your face,” Sunwoo told him, shaking his head in disappointment. “If you’re going to try and court a princess of all people, I think you’d need a decent background to even try. Most of the people who try and flirt with her are people with lots of money, connections, or are just close to the king and his circle.”

“Alright then…,” He mumbled, glancing between the two of them. “What’s number three?”

The two boys looked at each other for a moment, a smile growing on her faces as they turned back towards Juyeon. “We kill you for leaving us behind!”

IV.

“I hate this stupid game,” you mumbled, keeping your head propped up with one hand as you stared down at the chess pieces in front of you. Chanhee had come to visit again, companying his father on legal matters that neither of you could care for. With nothing to do for the day he had offered to play a game with you, a game he was learning to play back in his own kingdom.

You agreed believing that both of you wouldn’t be very good and manipulate the rules in order to play, but that wasn’t the case at all. Chanhee was beating you badly, snatching a majority of your black chess pieces off of the board and assaulting your side with his white pieces. He said he wasn’t good but it seemed as though he was natural at this game. “It’s not a stupid game,” he corrected you, placing his white pawn near your black queen. “This game is all about trickery and strategy, if you can’t do that how will you win a war?”

“There is no war to be fought,” you explain to him, grinning to yourself as you moved your black knight piece and took his white pawn. “Even if there was, I have generals, allies, and a council of people to help win said war. That’s kind of their job after all, planning battle strategies and executing them flawlessly.”

Chanhee snorted at your answer, innocently looking down at the board and carefully plotting his next move. “Thinking like that will make you a weak queen, Y/N. I hope you know that. It’ll make you easy to manipulate if you can’t think for yourself… checkmate.” He stated finally, using his white bishop to move diagonally towards your black king. You curse to yourself quietly as you realized the predicament you were in.

Without knowing, Chanhee had nearly completely surrounded your king. His white chess pieces were all clustered up around your king, his bishop, both his knights, two pawns, and his queen closer to him for backup. “This game is so stupid!” You call out in frustration, moving another the last black pawn on your side to take his knight. Without hesitation the prince moved his bishop and quickly took your king within his hands, replacing your most crucial piece with his mocking white bishop. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

“You don’t want to play because you’re bad at this game,” the prince teased, placing the chess pieces back into their original order as you pushed your chair away from the table like a child. “It’s not my fault you can’t use your brain to its full capacity, my Royal Highness, Princess Y/N.”

“You’re so lucky you’re my friend,” you threatened, mentally wiping that catlike smile off of his delicate features. “Had you been any other person I would have hurt you by now.”

“Oh no!” He gasped, sarcasm dripping off his tongue as he mockingly waved his hands around in fear. “The princess with no fighting experience is going to hurt me! I’m so scared, what will I ever do?”

“Chanhee!” You yelled, jumping out of your chair in a heartbeat. The prince laughed at you as he leaped out of his seat, sprinting out of the room and closing the door behind him as fast he could knowing he was going to be faster than you. While you’ve been wearing fancy dresses and expensive, custom made heels your entire life, that didn’t make it any easier to run in. “Chanhee, you annoying little prince! Come back here and take back those words!”

You grumble to yourself as you kick off your shoes, desperate to catch the boy and give him a piece of your mind. You may have little to know fighting skills, but you didn’t need to know how to defend yourself to choke someone out. In a rush you hurry towards the door, swinging it open with an intense speed you didn’t think was possible only to open it to the face of your father’s royal advisor. “Good day, your Royal Highness.”

“Oh,” you say, trying to compose yourself as best as possible before properly responding to him. “Good day, sir. Is there anything I can help you with today? I’m kind of in a rush right now… his highness, Prince Chanhee—”

“—Can wait,” the royal advisor finished, urging you to open the door wider so that he could step in. Awkwardly push it open a little more, stepping to the side and inviting him inside. He gratefully entered, not hesitating for even a moment to begin explaining things to you. “As you know your father, the king, had decided a month ago to allow a few of the knights in training to ascend to the ranks of true nights and royal guards.”

“Of course I know,” you respond, grabbing the heels you had discarded in your attempt to chase after the Fantasia prince and throwing them off to the side where the royal advisor couldn’t find them. “He told me and my mother about it, he was thinking about adding new royal guards to the ranks since a few of them had notified my father of their retirement from the ranks.”

“Excellent, I’m glad you’ve been caught up that far,” he explained, making you raise a skeptical brow. Caught up that far? What else were you missing? You were the princess, it was rather important that you were updated on things that involved you and your family’s safety and security.

“Unbeknownst to you, the king and queen had sworn in a total of five knights earlier in the day while the king of Fantasia and his family were discussing their own matters of importance.”

“Without me?” You questioned.

“Without you.” The advisor confirmed. “Prince Chanhee of Fantasia had you occupied, and no one wanted to bother you while you were having one of your very few days off within the palace.”

You didn’t know whether you should be grateful for the privacy with Chanhee or upset with the fact that your father and mother did not think to invite you to the swearing in of the new royal guards. “Do not be distraught, your highness,” the royal advisor told you, a small smile playing on his lips as he began to speak. “It was simply a matter of keeping your best interest within sight, you will meet the newest royal guards whenever you feel the need.”

You nod your head in understanding, there was no need to be upset now. The damage was already done and it wasn’t too hard to move from. “Can I at least know who has joined us in the palace?”

The royal advisor nodded his head in response, standing up straight in response as he began to recall the names of all the knights that had joined them. “The most notable names I can recall at the moment are all from the barracks here within the palace walls. Knights Kim Younghoon, Kim Sunwoo, and Lee Juyeon, your personal guard.”

You froze upon hearing the royal advisor’s words, slowing processing everything in your brain as the gears began to turn inside of your brain. “I’m sorry but,” You laughed softly, trying your best to hear correctly. “Can you repeat that one more time? Who is the new royal guard?”

“Of course, your highness,” He agreed, “the new royal guards are Younghoon—“

“The last part! I just need the last part.”

“Lee Juyeon, your new personal guard. He was the barracks finest apprentice, being the most talented and skilled boy we have received in a few years.” Your father’s royal advisor explained, highly praising the boy as he spoke, “your father decided to place him as your personal guard, to protect you from any dangers while your father is away. It’s simply a safety precaution— Princess Y/N!”

It was too late. By the time the royal advisor called your name, you had already thrown on whatever pair of shoes you could find and scrambled out of the door to find your supposed personal guard. Out of all the people the king could have picked to be your specific guard, he chose Juyeon? The one that had made you flustered and fidget? The one that made your face and ears burn with a pinkish hue at just the mere sight of his smile? The talented mounted archer from just a month or two ago? That Lee Juyeon?

You stepped out into the corridor with a disheveled look on your face, your eyes darting around anxiously for the boy. Why him? Why was he popping up into your life again, right after you had gotten over the way you had completely embarrassed yourself at the barracks?

“Princess Y/N?” You sucked your breath as you turned around, coming face to face to the boy you hoped to never see again. He was still just as breathtaking as before, his eyes shining even brighter than when you first saw him full of confidence as his face glowing like the sun rays filtered through the windows was just a simple accessory for him.

Nothing much had changed about him since the day you first saw him, the only difference was now he had a genuine sword held within the scabbard that was hanging from his belt and that he was wearing your kingdom’s crest on the fabric of his tunic. Juyeon smiled at you as he pushed himself off of the wall, taking a few steps in front of you before speaking once again. “It’s been awhile since we’ve last seen each other, hasn’t it?”

You finally exhaled, the emotions tied into your sigh unknown as you worked up the courage to reply back to him. “I believe it has been… Sir Juyeon, I guess I should start calling you? With the whole… rank change and all.”

He shook his head at your suggestion, unable to shake the happy grin off his face as he spoke to you. “No, you don’t have to. I don’t like being too formal, plus we’re around the same age, aren’t we? You can just call me Juyeon.”

“But… you’re a knight now, a royal guard even,” you insisted. “You’ve worked hard to earn this rank, to earn this title even, I should address you the correct way at least.”

Though Juyeon was persistent whether you liked it or not. “Seriously, I don’t really care about titles and things like that. You can just call me Juyeon, it’s fine I promise.”

You nod in understanding, feeling your hands begin to twitch in anticipation once again. How were you going to handle being Juyeon being your personal guard when you could barely keep yourself from nervously fidgeting around? The boy was stuck with you until your father appointed a new guard or took away his knight status completely and you could barely compose yourself just standing in front of him.

You hated this feeling he gave you. It was like he casted a spell on you, where you could no longer think correctly or control yourself upon being in the same room as him. But you didn’t know how you could get rid of it, you don’t know if you could even get rid of it at all.

“I see you two are already acquainted with each other,” your royal advisor noted, smiling at both you and Juyeon. “Perfect this will be a smooth ride from here on out.”

It had been about three months since Juyeon had been assigned to you as your personal guard and you genuinely hadn’t believed things would ever shift between the two of you. Your original dynamic had been stiff and tricky, you were withholding yourself from trying to become close to the knight and he was very determined to get to know you better.

Every time he would flash you one of those dashing smiles of his while the two of you would walk down the hallway you’d have to force yourself to not twitch, hands down at your sides and face turned forward to avoid making eye contact. Though the boy seemed to enjoy your very clear struggle to compose yourself, carefully prying into your thoughts when no one was around and teasing you about how you could never truly look him in the eyes.

For a good four weeks or so, that’s how the two of you functioned. Juyeon would smile, you’d become flustered, and he’d tease you for your reaction.

That’s as far as he’d ever go though, never reaching over boundaries or talking out of turn when he was with you. Because of the clear line of comfort the two of you had placed in between each other, you never thought that you’d become any closer. You put him at arm's length for two months because you were afraid of shaking and fidgeting under his gaze.

But then somehow, he had been able to crack your nervous shell. Juyeon had pointed out one of the swords you had hooked up against the wall, shining in the dim light of your room and covered in rare and bright gemstones. Somehow he had finally found the on switch for you, pressing the button and watching you suddenly ramble on and on about your interest in swordsmanship like no one had even tried to ask you beforehand. It was a little embarrassing to explain your long term obsession with fighting, but Juyeon never seemed to mind.

After that the two of you clicked. No longer was your relationship just ‘Juyeon your personal royal guard and Y/N the princess of the nation’, but Juyeon and Y/N. Two people of the same age that got along like birds of a feather. The palace itself seemed to notice this change the two of you went through, their eyes lingering on the two of you as you passed to try and decode your muffled giggles and his beaming smile.

Though the person who was most astonished by the change was none other than Prince Chanhee of Fantasia.

He hadn’t visited the palace at the same time you had first gotten Juyeon as your guard so he had not first hand experienced your growing friendship with the knight so it was understandable how he was a little confused. “Y/N…” Chanhee began, fumbling with his fingers as he glanced between the two of you. You looked back as well to find Juyeon walking behind the two of you, distracting himself with the walls of the palace to give you and the Fantasia prince some privacy. “Of all the people you could have picked… it had to be the archer from that day?”

“It wasn’t my decision,” you insisted, turning away from Juyeon to walk forward once more. “It was a situational circumstance and it was bound to happen now that we were going to walk the same path as each other, literally walk the same path as each other.”

“I know, you’ve told me this a million times.” He nodded, yet still unsatisfied with the answer you had provided him. Chanhee quickly picked his pace to match yours, not wanting to be any closer to Juyeon than he already had to be. “But I can’t help but… odd about this.”

You raised a brow at his words, letting it sink and marinate within your mind. “You feel… odd about me getting close to Juyeon?”

“Not in a weird jealous way,” Chanhee clarified, “I would never care about you that much. I mean I’ve been noticing your body language when you’re around him. You’re very much relaxed and it’s very clear that you enjoy his company but you have… nervous quirks. When you talk to him your hands shake like a woman with hand tremors and not to mention the way your ears will burn like a night’s lantern at the same time!”

“They still do that?” You whispered, holding your hands close to your chest. You could have sworn that once you and Juyeon had become friends all of your nervous habits stopped. You were anxious around the boy because you barely knew him and the way he made you felt in a crowd of people made you embarrassed, but that should have all ended once the two of you had gotten close! “God, do you think he’s noticed at all? I tried to get over the whole hands shaking thing after our first encounter at the barracks and I didn’t feel my hands shaking at all after I started treating him like a friend.”

The prince had to conceal a very heavy sigh that wanted to escape his mouth, glancing around the hallway for a moment to find a place where the two of you could receive some privacy. Without warning Chanhee grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the study on the right side of the hall. “Juyeon!” You called, allowing the boy to pull you along with little to no effort. “Give us like… five minutes? Stand guard, we’ll be out soon!”

You didn’t get a chance to see or hear the boy’s reaction as you were yanked inside of the study, the door closing behind you as Chanhee finally let go. “What was all that about?” You demanded from him, standing in the middle of the sunlight study with a scowl donning your face.

“I can’t believe it took you this long to realize… it took you three months to realize!” Chanhee exclaimed, shaking his head in pure disbelief as he paced back and forth. “Honestly at this point you’re either completely clueless or stupid, though I could bet it was both at the same time.”

“That was rude,” you bite, slapping his shoulder in retaliation for his harsh words. A smile broke out on the prince’s face for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe you had the utter audacity to hit him. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, Chanhee. Explain yourself.”

“Y/N! Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/N of her nation!” The boy exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air before bringing them down onto your shoulders. “The princess has finally fallen!”

“Fallen?”

“Fallen in love!” Chanhee dodged out of the way of your fist this time, skipping around the room with a spring in his step. You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. You? The princess known to make knights and squires squirm for just a small glimpse of you? Fallen in love?

“No, Chanhee, I haven’t—“ you tried to explain, distracted by the boy’s overwhelming excitement. “—I’m not in love. That’s crazy, Chanhee. Get a grip on yourself, this is absurd!”

The boy turned to you with his catlike grin, refusing to take no for an answer as he began to take light steps toward you. “How is this absurd, your Royal Highness? I mean, does the pieces not make a clear picture for you? You’ve fallen in love with your personal guard, that’s what all these nervous habits you have are suddenly about! Plus the fact that you turn as red as rose when you address him sometimes, there’s no other way to describe it!”

You wanted to fight back the Fantasia prince’s words, debating him on what your true feelings were and that you simply saw Juyeon as a new close friend of yours. But when you looked back on all your memories of him, the ones with the two of you together and the ones where you were alone, your words didn’t match up with your actions. All the tiny stolen glances you’d give Juyeon when he wasn’t aware, the way your heart would accelerate every time you saw him in the morning, the way your hands twitched in anticipation when speaking to the personal guard.

“No…,” You mumble to yourself, standing there in disbelief, before trying to find a chair to sit in. “There’s no way…!”

“Yes way!” Chanhee insisted, almost as if he was reading straight into your thoughts as he walked towards you. “Y/N, it’s time you come to terms with the facts that've been placed in front of you. Your own body is telling you that you enjoy your personal guard’s company a little more than the average person! Face it, Y/N, you like him.”

“This has got to be some sort of mistake, I don’t like Juyeon. Yes, I think he’s attractive, one of the most stunning knights my kingdom has ever seen, but they doesn’t mean—“

The prince let out a frustrated groan, covering his face with his hands as he fell on to a chair not far from yours. “Do you even hear yourself at this point? Y/N, you’re telling me to get a grip, you need to get a grip! How are you going to deny all of the evidence that is right in front of you? What else do you need to confirm my suspicions?”

“I don’t know!” You snapped, a burst of confusion and frustration exploding out of your mouth in the form of your tone. “I don’t want to believe that I’ve fallen in love with Juyeon, do you know how awkward that’ll be for me? I’m with him at every waking moment of day, I’ll never get a moment's rest if I really do like him. And there’s no way I could like him, I’m the one who makes knights and squires swoon, it’s not supposed to be the other way around.”

Both you and the prince sat in silence for a moment, struggling with each other to come to terms with the arguments you presented. The worst part about it is that if you have in fact fallen for your personal guard, you wouldn’t be too bothered by the thought.

Chanhee suddenly spring up out of his seat, a smile growing across his face as his brain began to twist and turn at the new thought that had popped into his head. “That’s it!” He exclaimed, turning towards you with a mischievous look on his face. “I know a way you can figure out if your feelings for the boy are true or not, and you actually like the idea I’ve come up with. It keeps your best interest in mind.”

VI.

“Prince Chanhee of Fantasia…” Juyeon began, peering into the sleeping quarters cautiously to make sure no other knight was inside of the room. The only people inside were Sunwoo and Younghoon, both who had shot up out of their beds at the sound of the boy’s voice. “Who exactly… is he to the princess?”

“You see us for the first time today and all you have to talk about is the princess?” Sunwoo snorted, falling right back into his bed with a huff. That was a fair reaction, seeing as Juyeon spent nearly twenty four hours with the princess on a daily basis. He could at least have something new and different to talk about when he was with his friends. But he couldn’t help it this time, not when he was curious about the prince who had visited for the day.

Both the prince and his father were gone now, sleeping in their giant and extravagant beds of their own kingdom instead of spending the night here. But Juyeon couldn’t help but feel some sort of way about the Fantasia prince, his eyes had been locked into his head since he had first approached the princess when he arrived. Though whether he was watching him out of intrigue or jealousy was unknown to him.

“He’s the princess’s close friend,” Younghoon shrugged, answering for the stubborn boy who refused to give him any sort of help. “I heard they’ve been friends since they were children and many people including those outside of the palace walls thought they were going to be betrothed to each other at one point. It made sense, both of them were of royal descent and have known each other well enough for it to happen. The kings of their respective nations were close to each other.”

“Oh,” Juyeon responded, falling into his assigned bed a little harder than he had originally planned. “That’s good to know.”

“Prince Chanhee has not tried to court the princess though,” Sunwoo explained, staring at the ceiling with his arms crossed. Despite handing over the information he knew, he still seemed upset with Juyeon but the boy was simply stubborn like that. “They’ve been friends since forever and not once in my life have I heard he’s ever tried to make a move on her. As much as the kingdom wants the two to get together, they’re probably just friends.”

A quiet sigh of relief left Juyeon’s mouth as he nodded, covering his face with his hands as he responded in a slightly chirper tone. “Oh, that’s good to know.”

“Hey!” Sunwoo scolded, sitting up at the speed of light as he caught the boy’s tone of voice. “What did we say about the princess?”

He groaned in response to Sunwoo’s words, sitting up out of his bed as he recited, “dozens of knights are trying to court her, she’s a princess and I have nothing to offer, and you’ll kill me if I leave you behind.”

“Exactly,” Younghoon smiled. “I’ll drive a sword right through your stomach and Sunwoo will shoot your heart with an arrow if you even think about abandoning us for the princess.”

“I can’t shoot an arrow through his heart,” Sunwoo argued, shooting a mischievous smile towards Juyeon as he called out. “Not when the princess already shot one in the bullseye!”

“Leave me alone!” Juyeon hissed, ignoring the boys devilish giggles behind him. He couldn’t help himself from being so enamored by the princess’s mere presence, especially when he was around her for the majority of the day.

When he first came to the barracks, he couldn’t have cared less about the royal family’s daughter. He simply there to train as a knight for his kingdom and provide some sort of stability for his family back home. Juyeon was usually the one innocently teasing the other knights and squires for their one siding crush on a person they could not have, but the tides had completely turned on him. Now he was the one secretly pining after royalty.

His attention was caught when he heard soft knocking on glass, turning his head towards the window as confusion crossed his face. Sunwoo and Younghoon didn’t seem to notice the noise as they were too caught up in their teasing of the boys unfortunate feelings so the boy didn’t even bother to alert them at the sudden intrusion.

As swiftly and quietly as he could he slipped out of the bed and peered through the window’s glass, trying his best to see what had caused the sound. So one could only imagine his disbelief when he caught sight of your face in the window, standing in your tiptoes to look inside of the barracks. When your eyes caught each other's, you immediately smiled back at him and confirmed to him that you were truly standing outside of the sleeping quarters. “Y/N?” He exclaimed, a little louder than he originally had meant to happen.

Juyeon turned around and saw both Younghoon and Sunwoo staring at him, unable to comprehend the fact that he had called you by your name instead of addressing you by your full title. “You’re…,” Sunwoo began, struggling to get the words out of his mouth, “you’re on a first name basis with the princess?”

“I’ll be right back, okay?” He assured them, knocking the glass to signal that he was coming to meet you. Immediately both Younghoon and Sunwoo jumped up, scrambling towards the boy with a million questions on their mind. Juyeon just narrowly dodged their onslaught, dashing to the door and closing it on their faces. “Just give me ten minutes! I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back!”

“You’re in a lot of trouble when you get back!” The younger knight whispered, but there was just enough diction in his voice to know that he was threatening him. Juyeon only smiled to himself as he took a few steps away from the door, searching for the nearest archway to lead him into the courtyard. How had you even gotten this close to the barracks? If he remembered correctly, most guards within the palace would have stopped you before you could even get close. Did you really only need to walk inside the barracks once to sneak in for good?

“Want to explain how you got here without getting caught?” He asked you as he rounded the corner, leaning up against the wall with a knowing smirk on his face.

You stood up from where you were sitting on the ground, the white nightgown you were supposed to be wearing to sleep practically glowing in the moon’s light. You hesitated to respond to him as you played with the sleeve of your nightgown unconsciously, though sharing that same smile you had given him earlier in his sleeping quarters as you asked, “did you call me by my first name in there?”

“I did not.”

“You did!” You gasped, pointing an accusing finger towards him as you walked toward him. “I know you did, you said my name without any titles attached to it. You can’t play dumb with me, I knew as soon as you noticed I was there and said something from behind the glass.”

“You’re avoiding my question,” Juyeon pointed out, putting a hand out in front of him to keep a small distance in between the two of you. “How did you get here without being caught?”

“You’re avoiding my question!” You argued. “Did you call me by my first name when you were with your friends? It’s totally fine if you did, you realize this right? I don’t mind if you don’t use titles with me, but I just want you to admit what you said.”

The two stood stared at each other in silence, refusing to let up first and wanting the other to reveal the information they had. Juyeon would have thought you would go on for longer, being the fiercer out of the duo about what you wanted. Though after a few seconds you nervously cleared your throat, stepping back and away from Juyeon to stay out of his personal space. “You know what, forget it, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Yeah, you were just about to tell how you got into the barracks without anyone catching you,” he insisted, watching as you rolled your eyes in annoyance. Despite losing the ‘staring contest’ you weren't about to give away any of your little secrets to him. “That’s a big achievement for you, isn't it? Knowing that you haven’t stepped foot into the barracks since the day you arrived with your father makes it even—“

“I want you to train me, teach me the whole swordsmanship thing,” you blurted, cutting off Juyeon in the middle of his sentence.

Slowly his smile began to drop into a look of disbelief, unsure of whether or not he had heard you right. In a rush, you quickly rambled on, “it doesn’t have to be as intense as your training from when you were a squire! And I don’t need to know everything you know, I just want to be able to fight. You know, slicing and dicing my enemies up in order to protect myself if need be— I know I have you and the entire royal guard on my side but this is just something I’ve always wanted so… please?”

“Why… why me though?”

You froze upon being asked his question, struggling to form coherent sentences to continue the conversation. “Because…,” you stuttered, your ears turning a rosy red hue as you tried to make an excuse. Juyeon attempted to not notice, keeping his eyes focused solely on you and waiting patiently waiting for your answer, but he couldn’t help himself. Whatever you were going to say to him next wasn’t going to be good enough erase the undertones of your silence.

There was a very likely possibility that you harbored the same feelings for him as he did for you, if he was reading the nature of the room right. Of course, there was the offset chance that you were simply embarrassed to give him your real reason, so he couldn’t just put all his money on one option only to be disappointed in the end.

“You’re my friend,” you finally explained. “Not only are you my friend, but you’re my personal guard and the ‘supposed’ finest knight within the kingdom’s men at the moment. So wouldn’t it make sense to learn from someone who is an acquaintance and is skilled in the area I’m trying to learn in? I don’t know, it sounds like logic to me.”

“Right,” he nodded, thought speaking more for himself than for you. Juyeon couldn’t get his hopes up, not when the person he had fallen for was a member of royalty. High hopes would only get him utterly disappointed when everything came back around. “That’s logical thinking, you’re right.”

VII.

Two nights out of every week you snuck out of your room and met up with Juyeon at the barracks. He’d cautiously sneak you inside of one of the very many training rooms that the barracks had to offer with the help of his friends and there he would teach you all he knew about sword fighting. Well… kinda.

It was a very difficult process to endure as you were something less than a beginner and Juyeon was something more than a master. Your varying levels of proficiency made it hard to work together since the personal guard wanted to skip the basics immediately and you had never even touched the basics beforehand. All your experience of sword fighting had only ever come from watching others from afar, so you truly didn’t know anything.

The perfect stance, how to hide your weak points, you didn’t even realize how heavy a genuine sword was! The mere thought that you were supposed to be the one controlling the swords slicing and slashing and not the other way around was astounding to you.

It was embarrassing to know that Juyeon had watched you nearly topple over yourself when you grabbed a sword for the first time, your arms not used to the amount of weight that you were carrying. You could barely pick it up, let alone sling it over your shoulder as the boy did ever so flawlessly. He’d giggle and tease you for floundering all over the ground with the sword in hand, slightly mocking you as he twirled his blade with ease. You’d sit there mumbling under your breath small threats and empty promises as your face would burn in shame.

If anyone had caught you two in the act of training, they would think you were a lost cause at first.

“A quick jab and turn isn’t going to do anything, Y/N,” Juyeon innocently told you, his sun rivaling grin growing across his face as he pointed the tip of his blade towards you. You were on the complete other side of the room, keeping your distance away from the personal guard instead of attacking him head on. “This isn’t fencing, these weapons are made to cut, not poke.”

“I know,” you angrily reply, growing tired with his ongoing cat and mouse game you two played. “You’re just really obnoxious.” You tried to attack him, rushing in with no genuine plan in your head. The dull swords clashed together with an angry metal screech when you swiped your blade at him, your attack quickly being blocked by Juyeon as he lifted up his own sword to block against your attack. Frustrated, you began to press the majority of your weight onto the sword, forcing it to move towards the boy’s torso at a slow pace as he fought against it.

Wordlessly he stepped forward, pushing back against your attack and forcing you to move back with a heavy foot. You yelped when you suddenly lost your footing, the weight you had pressed into the blade betraying you as you hit the ground with an unfortunately loud thud. You stayed down on the ground for a little longer than you wanted, catching your breath and making sure you didn’t potentially crack your head open on the stone floors. The two of you couldn’t train in the courtyard in fear that someone would catch you in the barracks, but now you were willing to risk the chance.

“I’m not obnoxious,” the boy defended as you secretly rolled your eyes at his words. “You’re just bad at fighting and… wildy easy to predict.”

“That’s because someone didn’t teach me the basics like they were supposed to!” You complained, lifting yourself off the ground and pointing an accusing finger at him. Juyeon sheepishly smiled as you continued to call out, “you just threw a sword at me the first day and said hit me! I nearly fell when I grabbed that thing and you wanted me to fight first thing? I thought I already established to you that I knew nothing at all?”

“I know the basics are so boring after you’ve completed it all. If you want someone else to teach you just say so, I’m sure that Sunwoo and Younghoon would kill to be in your presence and teach you how to fight,” Juyeon argued, leaning up against the pommel of his sword and curiously looking down at you. When you didn’t respond to his suggestion, he shrugged his shoulders and joined you in the ground for a moment. “That’s what I thought.”

The entire ‘Juyeon teaches you sword fighting’ idea was all Chanhee’s plan, conjuring up the brilliant idea in a matter of seconds. The Fantasia prince had suggested it as a way for you not only to learn swordsmanship but figure out if you truly held feelings for the personal guard as you would be engaged in a lot more close combat and would be alone with each other for a few more hours within the day. Honestly you think that was the first time you had ever called the boy a genius, mainly for the reason that you would finally dabble in your long term interests.

However instead of falling completely and uncontrollably in love with Juyeon, you just wanted to slice his head off. He was nothing like he usually was when it came to fighting, his condescending smirks and over the top mocking getting the best of him whenever he had fought against you. Though his continuous and annoying teasing only fueled your drive to master sword fighting even stronger than before, so you guessed that was one thing that was working out for you.

Though, if you had to be honest, you did have your moments where you faltered not because of your own lack of skill but because of Juyeon in general. Let it be known that whether you had feelings for the personal guard or not, he was conventionally attractive. Running his fingers through his hair, his beaming smile of knowingness, even the arrogant looks of victory was enough to distract you from your adrenaline fueled drive to stab Juyeon in the chest. Did he even know he had that effect on you?

Maybe it’s best he didn’t know, you didn’t need another weakness to add to your ever growing skill set of cans and can’ts.

“Why didn’t you actually teach me the basics though?” You asked him, catching his attention almost immediately. “I mean… I learned the basics by myself with no help by mock battling you for several nights straight. I’m not the best fighter but I’d at least like to stand a chance against you instead of humiliating myself over and over again.”

Juyeon thought to himself for a moment, staring at the ceiling and anxiously running his hands through his hair. “Is ‘because it’s fun to mess with you’ a valid answer to your question?”

You gave the boy a strained smile and you hissed, “No. Absolutely not.”

“Then i don’t know,” he admitted, lifting himself off of the ground and fumbling around with his hands. Juyeon wasn’t looking directly at you as he spoke, staring off into the void with an unknown emotion swirling around in his eyes. “I’m not that good of a teacher for close friends if I’m gonna be honest. I get competitive, more focused on the fulfillment of my joy and worth than actually… teaching someone how to do a task or skill.”

You nodded in understanding, all of the frustration and annoyance from earlier gone within a flash of his words. What he said was fair, some people just don’t have the ability to teach others and he just happened to be one of them. “So then why’d you agree that night?” You asked him, now trying to wrap your head around that fact. “I mean if you knew you’d have a hard time teaching me how to sword fight, you didn’t have to say yes… you do know that right?”

“I know,” he responded, before turning to you with his signature smile. Your hands began to shake once again at the sight of it, the same exact smile he had the audacity to give you in front of all the knights and squires when he was among their ranks. The one that would go from ear to ear in pure amusement and endearment from your words and reactions. That one, the one that started this mess in the first place. “I know I could have declined if I wanted to but… something in me wanted to help you anyways.”

“And that something was…?” You questioned, your words trailing off just a little as you urged him to explain. You don’t know exactly what you’re expecting for him to say. That he agreed out of obligation? The kindness of his heart? That he simply wanted to spend time with you? Did you even know what you wanted his answer to be? Or how disappointed you’d be if it wasn’t anything that would give you the false hope you were unconsciously reaching for?

He sighed to himself for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, really. Like… I know but at the same time I don’t? It’s complicated and I don’t really want to bug you with it.” Juyeon explained, glancing down to your nervously trembling hands with a teasing smile growing on his face. “What’s with the shaking hands? When you were holding that sword you were as tough as a rock, feeling a little vulnerable without it?”

“Shut up,” you snapped at him, immediately putting your hands behind your back, squeezing them together as you tried to keep a straight face. Of course he was going to notice that nervous tick of yours one day, it was inevitable especially after the Fantasia prince had caught onto it. Chanhee wasn’t even at the palace every day to even pick up on it, he just knew you well. So why would you ever believe that Juyeon, your personal guard for heaven's sake, wouldn’t have noticed it? “It’s just cold,” you lied, “we aren’t doing anything right now and the night’s cold just gets to me something.”

“Well why didn’t you say so?” Juyeon questioned, earning himself a skeptical look from you. In a heartbeat he reached behind you and scooped up your hand and his, holding it tightly in his grasp with a grin.

You snatched your hand in retaliation, your ears burning the unfortunate rosy red as you shout, “woah! Hold on, what are you doing?”

“Relax, Y/N,” the boy laughed, gently taking your hand back and holding it up for the both of you to see. “I’m holding your hand because you said you were cold, and exchanging body heat might warm you.” His hands were so much bigger than yours, rough and firm from the work he put in as he trained with the other knights of your kingdom. It was a very stark difference from your dainty and softer hands, the only work you had ever done was smile and wave to the people and royals of other nations. Yet somehow, despite these differences, his hands fit perfectly into the gaps of yours.

You wondered how many knights and squires would have ridiculed Juyeon if they could see you two now. The princess of their nation, who was notorious for playing knights like lyres and rejecting their advances, was willingly holding hands with the finest and most favored knight within the palace walls. “Well don’t tell anyone I let you do this,” you warned, relaxing after a moment of silence. “Not even your other knights friends can know I let you do this! I have a reputation to keep up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy nodded, no longer paying attention to you specifically and simply observing the way his hands fit in yours. “I promise I won’t. Your secret is safe with me. I like the way your hand fits in mind anyways.”

VIII.

When your parents asked you if you had found a potential suitor to be your future king, you told them no almost immediately. Your quickness made your father raise a skeptical brow at your answer and your mother nearly fainted in shock, gasping hysterically.

Their daughter, the princess, the future queen of their nation, had not yet found a boy to be her king? Unacceptable, impossible! They couldn’t allow this behavior of yours to continue, knowing how you had played with the hearts of countless knights within the palace walls. So they had decided to take matters into their own hands, they needed to place down a platter of men around your age that you could pick and choose whatever your little heart desires.

A ball, they had told you, they were planning a ball and were inviting all their noble and royal allies to attend. They were going to bring their sons ,have them attempt to court you, and then you would pick one of the boys to be your king. Genuinely, when they first informed you of their plans you thought they were joking. They wouldn’t actually do all of that because you said you didn’t have anyone in mind yet right?

And they did.

Here you were, standing on the ballroom floor with Chanhee by your side with the most bewildered expression your face could muster. You were adorned in a large wine red ballgown, matching your family who wore nearly identical, with jewels scattered across your arms and ears for an extra shimmer to your already extravagant look. Not to forget the most important piece of the whole attire, the signature silver rhinestone crown that identified you as the princess of the nation.

The tiara and grown lifestyle, the lifestyle you haven't been fond of even as a child. You were unwillingly living it.

“Careful,” Chanhee whispered, placing a comforting hand on your bare shoulder. “I don’t need you exploding in front of everyone right now, who knows what kind of scene that’ll create.”

“I might as well!” You snap, catching the unwanted attention of the nobles around you. Both of you turned to them and smiled, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible about your true feelings of the event. When they bowed in greeting before finally turning away from you and Fantasia prince, you were back to being the ticking time bomb you had entered the ballroom being. “You think I wanted to have this event planned? You think I wanted to have this event at all?”

“Of course you didn’t, I know you. You like to horseplay and run around like a little village girl.” Chanhee explained, rolling his eyes at your prevalent attitude. “But you can’t really do that right now can you? One small misstep and you’ll embarrass your parents right before their eyes, you need to keep it together.”

“How?” You asked him, maneuvering through the crowd of nobles so that you and Chanhee could have a little more privacy. Who knew what random noble or king’s son would walk up to you in the middle of your conversation and beg you to have a dance with him? “I don’t feel comfortable in what I’m wearing, I don’t want to be here in the first lance, I’m getting on my last nerves, and who knows when some random boy I don’t know tries woo me into liking him? I might actually lose it here!”

Chanhee struggled to keep up with your demands, trying to think of another quick solution to your problems like he always did. He must have something in that brain of his doesn’t? Or was it all just full of strategies to absolutely destroy you at chess? “I got it! Just talk to me.”

“What?” Chanhee’s suggestion stopped you dead in your tracks, giving him the most bizzare expression you could make at that moment. “Your very Royal Highness I’m sorry to inform you, but people won’t care if I’m talking to you, you understand that right? They know you wouldn’t even attempt to try and take my hand in marriage so they’ll just barge in anyways.”

“I don’t mean like that,” he hissed, softly hitting your shoulder in retaliation. “Talk to me about the personal guard and I’ll lead you away from the party. We just need to super busy in order to pull off the act that we’re walking around and definitely not trying to leave the ball.”

You nodded in understanding, though feeling your face begin heat up and turn into that all telling rosy red color. “Why— why him specifically? Can’t I talk about something else?”

“Where is he now?” The Fantasia prince questioned, holding out his arm for you to take so he could drag you out of the ballroom. “He's your personal guard isn’t it, your Royal Highness? Why isn’t he flanking your every step and protecting you like a dog to its owner?”

The boy snickered at his words until you elbowed his side, stopping both of you in your tracks to watch him crumble to his knees for a moment. Did he really think he could get away with insulting Juyeon like that? To your face no less? “He’s on duty with the rest of the royal guards,” you explained, nonchalantly glancing at your nails as you waited for Chanhee to recover. The boy was all sticks and bones, easy to hinder thanks to his small body. “They’re patrolling around the palace and the ballroom to make sure no incidents occur.”

“Incidents?” Chanhee questioned.

“Like putting the king and queen pieces into checkmate type incidents,” you told you, referencing the game of chess they had played months ago. “Either way, Juyeon couldn’t come with me and enjoy this god forsaken ball with me, but maybe that’s for the best.”

“Is that in terms of you two had a sudden falling,” The Fantasia prince tried to clarify, “or as in you think you’ve finally gotten your feelings figured out?” You grimaced at the thought, unsure of how to exactly answer Chanhee’s question. Did you have your feelings figured out?

Juyeon (with the exception his friends) was the only knight whose heart you hadn’t ever attempted to toy with. You let him get away with countless things: saying your name without a title, holding your hand when it trembled, willingly allowing him to make you flustered and not suffer any sort of retribution for it. On top of all of that, you even enjoyed his company! Juyeon didn’t make you feel like a prize that needed to be one, just made you feel like… you. And you liked it.

At first, you loathed the thought of being in the knight’s vicinity because he made do and feel things you weren’t used to. You thought that maybe, just maybe, he was going to use you in the way that you lead the squires and knights of the palace along. But he didn’t, the only thing he had done to you was send you flying deep into this well of the unknown without even realizing it.

“Oh I hate you,” You mumble under your breath, shooting Chanhee a knowing look. “I hate you so much.”

He blinked a few times at your hurtful words before it finally clicked in his brain, covering his mouth with his hands as he squealed. “You’ve figured it out? You realized that you like him? Y/N I’m so—“

“Princess Y/N!” The two of you turn your heads in alarm at your name being called, the worst case scenario of someone actually having the audacity to stop you coming true. You tense up upon seeing your mother wave her hand towards you, bringing attention to both of the royals from all the bystanders around you. With her was an older man, perhaps around your fathers age, staring up straight and tall with a curious glint in his eyes. His attire for the ball was littered in gold and silver medallions, purposely flaunting all of the achievements you wouldn’t bother to learn.

Though beside the older man was a boy, around your age this time, nervously glancing between the queen and the man who seemed to be his father. He tugged on the man’s sleeve desperately, trying to get him to take action but was ultimately getting ignored due to the adults taking the lead in the conversation. The queen pointed to both the boy and man with an expectant look on her face as she spoke, “please, Y/N, come join us! I’d like you to meet someone.”

“Potential suitor,” you whispered to Chanhee.

“On the count of three, run in the total opposite direction and get out of the ballroom,” He replied back.

One. “This is General Lee from a neighboring kingdom near Fantasia,” your mother explained, quickly introducing the two of you and unaware of the chaos you and the Fantasia prince were about to create.

Two. “This is his son, Prince Hyunjae. The general is the brother of the kingdom’s current king and his son will be taking the throne as the king and queen of that nation cannot produce an heir on their own.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Hyunjae began, awkwardly bowing in front of you now that all eyes were on him. “Truly it is, I’ve heard so much about you Princess—“

“Three!” You and Chanhee split from each other as quickly as possible, darting through the crowd of people in a desperate get away. You could hear the general and the queen call for you, struggling to keep up with your speed fueled by adrenaline but you paid no mind to it. They needed your presence so that you could sit and have an unfulfilling conversation with Prince Hyunjae and you weren’t going to give it to them. No offense to the prince or anything, you just don’t think you could handle that situation knowing your heart had settled on someone entirely different,

It only took you a matter of two minutes to reach the ballroom doors, muttering soft yet empty apologies to everyone you ran into and slipped through the crack in the door.

IX.

“Stupid princess,” Juyeon muttered, charging down the palace halls as fast as his legs would take him. “Stupid Y/N!” One could only imagine his panicked expression when he was suddenly approached by Sunwoo with a nervous glint in his eyes. He was so used to seeing the younger knight’s bright smile that it took Juyeon completely off guard when the boy grabbed him by the shoulders and steadied his footing.

“The princess,” Sunwoo told him, glancing between him and the corridor leading to the ballroom. “Princess Y/N, she ran from the ballroom and no one knows where she went.”

Juyeon thought he was joking at first, brushing off his words with a small laugh and teasing smile. Yet when Sunwoo’s expression didn’t change and the weight of the situation had finally processed in his mind, he shot off like an arrow towards all the spots the princess could have been hiding.

He knew you didn’t enjoy the big fancy balls and extravagant dresses of the royal life, but he thought you were going to be able to stick it out. Every time you had mentioned the king and queen’s wild idea to throw a gathering to find you a suitor, a king of your own, you were relaxed. You weren’t bothered by the thought of all and even joked about it with him every so often, so Juyeon had trusted you to be fine.

He didn’t like the idea of the ball for completely different reasons from you. He liked you, and the thought of your parents sending you off to some noble child or prince he’s never heard of made his blood boil. Because why have a ball to father suitors when he was right there? But the constant reminder from Sunwoo and Younghoon that he had nothing to offer to you and he wasn’t even in the status to even try to become betrothed to you, made him unwillingly back down from voicing his opinion to you and opposing it.

Now he was regretting, because you were missing somewhere in the palace and he didn’t know why.

He wasn’t in the ballroom when it all had happened, instructed to stand guard and patrol around the perimeter of the gathering to protect all the guests and the royal family. Juyeon didn’t understand why he was tasked to do such a thing in the first place, when he ascended the ranks into becoming a knight he was specifically told he was your personal guard. He was supposed to watch over you and protect you, so why did they have him stationed away from you?

It wasn’t until he realized that a majority of the palace, specifically the knights among his rank, had recognized his growing fondness for the princess. If they couldn’t have the princess to themselves, then neither could he.

“Y/N!” Juyeon called, completely throwing out the titles and addressing you by your first name. It’s not like anyone was around shooting him dirty looks for having the sheer audacity to call the princess by your name only. Even if they did, he wouldn’t mind. There were more important things to worry about than what he can and can’t call you. “Y/N, where’d you go? Come on, we can’t play this game of cat and mouse forever.”

He stopped at a door at the end of the corridor he was running down, grabbing a hold of the handle and shoving it open with unnecessary ferocity. Could you blame him for being a little too aggressive? With every growing second you weren’t in his sights the more anxious he was becoming. What if you were hurt? What if you were crying? What if you were—

“Juyeon, right?” Prince Chanhee asked, sitting in a chair with his feet kicked up on top of the desk. Juyeon has opened the door to one of the very many studies within the palace and out of sheer coincidence he opened the doors to the one the princess’s friend was using. Well at least… he thought it was a coincidence. I hoped it was a coincidence.

“Prince Chanhee of Fantasia,” he began, looking the boy up and down for a moment. It didn’t seem like you were with him, not a trace of your existence left in the study. It was possible that you didn’t even come in this room at all. “Where is she?”

“God, you skipped right to the point a little fast for me,” Chanhee grimaced, taking his feet off of the desk and sitting up straight. “Do you have to know where she is like right now? Because I had this whole speech I was going to give you set up and I really wanted to—”

“Prince Choi Chanhee,” Juyeon demanded, putting emphasis on each word that came out of his mouth. He didn’t have time to play around with others right now, as much as he would have loved to encourage him any other day. You were somewhere in the palace, alone, and he had to know where you were and what happened. He needed to know if you were hurt so that he could find the culprit and drive his sword straight into the chest of the wretch.

The boy raised his hands up in defeat, shooting Juyeon an annoyed glare before clearing his throat. “Y/N is at the balcony above the barracks, where the field for the mounted archery evaluations was held months ago.” The memory of the weekly evaluation was immediately triggered in his head, seeing him back months prior to his falling for the princess. The day he had proved to all of the knights and squires around him that he was the best of the best, the day he had first laid eyes on you.

“I know where that is,” he breathed, turning in his heel and getting ready to rush out the door once again. Though Chanhee scrambled out of the chair to catch up to Juyeon, stopping him from moving any further towards the balcony to reach you. “What?”

“Before you go,” the prince began, letting go of Juyeon with the hope that he wouldn’t run off at the sight of freedom. “Please don’t do anything stupid, Y/N is my friend. And as much as I tease her and bully her, I won’t let anyone hurt her. Even if that’s her wildly skillful and kinda scary personal guard.”

Juyeon couldn’t help but laugh at Chanhee’s words, reminiscing on the fact that only a few months ago he couldn’t tell whether he was intrigued by the prince’s closeness with you or jealous of it. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare.”

You leaned up against the railing of the balcony taking night time air with a deep breath. It was hard trying to avoid all the royal guards and knights within the castle, knowing that after the scene you caused they’d be searching for you. It felt like a scene from a fairy tale really, clutching the fabric of your wine red dress so you wouldn’t trip and hastily running up the stairs. Behind you you could hear the calls of all the knights and royal guards of the places looking for you, their boots heavy against the marble floors and their armor clanging against each other.

They were like walking bells, unaware of the fact that their prized armor was alerting you of their position. If the guards were coming up the corridor, you turn around and run the opposite way. If they were going down the corridor, you’d spin on your heels and make a complete u-turn. Sometimes you’d sneak into a room on whatever hallway you were on and wait for them to pass, sometimes you’d just keep running and hope your legs didn’t give out on you knowing you were wearing heels.

It was a little funny in your eyes, but that’s because you were you. You’re almost one hundred percent sure no one else thought this game of cat and mouse you were playing was fun.

“Wait, I should have gone and found Juyeon first,” you realize, shooting up off of the ground. You were so busy with attempting to successfully make your get away that you had forgotten that Juyeon was also one of the knights in duty. He was probably worried about you, searching for you around the palace like all of the other knights within the palace. With no explanation of exactly what went down in the ballroom, he’d have no clue on what was actually going on.

“I should go find him, leaving him with no context will probably drive him insane,” you nod to yourself, marching towards the balcony doors to run back into the palace. Though you stopped once you reached the door, your hands hovering over the door handles hesitantly. You should tell him what happened, it was the right thing to do after all. But were you really ready to face him again?

In the middle of that ballroom, just seconds before you had been involuntarily introduced to Prince Hyunjae, you had a revelation. You liked him. You liked your charming person guard that had caught you weak kneed from the first time you laid eyes on him. No one had ever made you feel the way you felt about Juyeon and he had done it nearly completely by accident. He was trying to court you and you simply fell for him anyways.

His skills, his face, his smiles, his personality, just him a person entirely. You adored it all, you liked him.

Well liked was an understatement now, you had truly fallen deeply in love with him and you just had to realize your genuine feelings in the middle of a party meant to find you a king. Horrible timing on your part but you just weren't sure until then.

So maybe you should wait, wait until you can gather your thoughts and feelings together without fidgeting and shaking in front of him. The nervous habit probably would have increased tenfold now that you realized why exactly you trembled when he smiled at you, and you weren’t ready to watch that whole fiasco go down. How embarrassing would that be? To get completely weak kneed in front of Juyeon without a coherent thought in the brain? Surely you’d like an idiot, wouldn’t you?

“I’ll wait,” you convinced, stepping away from the door with cautious steps. “I’m not even going to be able to look him in the eye if I see him again, I should just wait until tomorrow… but I’ll probably get scolded by my parents for running away during the ball when they had done all that planning just for me. But it’s not like I asked them to throw that ball in the first place, just because I didn’t suggest any suitors I liked!”

You yelped in alarm when the door to the balcony swung with great speed, making you jump out of skin at the sudden intrusion. “Heavens, do you know how to knock?” You asked in retaliation, your heartbeat running marathons as you tried to calm yourself down from the shock. Though when you turned to look back toward the door again, you were greeted by the rather familiar sight of your personal guard, “Juyeon?”

The boy’s eyes widened at the sight of you, as if he couldn’t believe that you were standing in front of him right now. “Y/N,” he said in between gasps, trying hard to catch his breath as he reached his hands out for you. “Y/N, you're okay.”

“Of course I’m okay,” you tell him, unsure of the thoughts that were running through his mind. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Juyeon didn’t respond to your questions, letting go of the door handle before running towards you and scooping you up in his arms. Instinctively you wrapped your arms around him for support, not wanting to fall out of his grasp despite knowing he wouldn’t dare drop you even if he commanded to. “I thought something bad happened,” he confessed, “when Sunwoo came to me and told me you had left the ballroom, I thought someone had hurt you.”

“No, nothing like that happened,” you assured him, urging him to let you go. Just looking at his relieved face made your heart begin to race again, though this time marathons weren't the only thing that it was running. “My mother was trying to set me up with his prince from another kingdom and instead of doing as she said me and Chanhee ran for it out the room.”

“Why would you do that?” Juyeon questioned, stepping away from you in disbelief. “The queen, she’ll be furious when she sees you again. The king— your father, what will father say about you running away?”

“Juyeon I don’t care about what they think, haven’t you noticed by now?” you argued, your hands beginning to tremble at the rising tension between the two of you, “they can’t just force me to pick a boy from that gathering when I didn’t even bother to learn their names. When none of them are you.”

Juyeon thought to himself for a moment, letting your words sink and replay inside his brain. “When none of them were… me?”

“I wish I had realized before they even had a chance to plan the ball but I just have the worst timing possible,” You admitted, thinking back to all the very clear signs of your growing feelings for Juyeon that you had avoided. “I think I fell in love with you, Juyeon. Not think, actually, I know I have.”

“You’re serious?” Juyeon questioned, unsure if he had even heard you right. When you nodded your head to give him confirmation, he pulled you closer to him with warning, his eyes growing wide like the full moon that was hanging above the two of you. “You’re not joking at all, no tricks, no teasing, you’re being one hundred percent serious with me right now?”

“Of course!” You exclaim, grabbing him by the shoulders with a beaming smile etching across your face. “I’ve never been so sure about something in my entire life. Why do you think I asked you to train me in the first place a few months back, because I was just trying to use your skill set to my advantage? I know I have the reputation of being desperate for sword fighting, but Juyeon I was in love with you! I was just using the training as a way to figure my feelings or not.”

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up,” he confessed to you. “I wanted you to like me back, but Sunwoo and Younghoon didn’t want me to get my hopes over a fruitless crush. They told me that pursuing you wouldn’t work, because I didn’t have a decent enough background for me to even compare to anyone else. I mean, you’re a princess! I’m just barely a knight, I’m a blacksmith’s son, Y/N, not some high ranking noble from across the land. I have no connections, no power, no money, nothing to give you in return for your affection.”

“Juyeon,” you respond, confusion crossing your face at his words. Did he really think you wouldn’t like him just because his status was up to the standards of the king and queen? He thought you cared about things like that?

“I have nothing to offer you,” Juyeon whispered, holding your hands in his as gently as possible. It was if he thought he’d let go of you now he’d wake up from this dream like scenario you two were in, where you were no longer in his arms and in a place he could not reach. “There’s nothing I could even dream of giving to you.”

You can’t help but smile at his words, removing your hands from his and cupping his face instead. He didn’t even flinch at your touch, only turning a crimson red at your next few words. “Why do you think that matters? None of that matters to me, it never has. You could be a poor boy from a family of farmers and I’d still fall in love with you.”

“But your parents—“ he tried to argue with you.

“They mean nothing to me,” you assure him, pulling his face towards yours as you whisper, “they may be able to control this kingdom to their will, but they can’t control who exactly I fall in love with. They couldn’t even control my urge to learn sword fighting and that’s an interest I’ve had since I was a child.”

“I hate you so much,” Juyeon laughed, the words he spoke not carrying the same weight thanks to his jittery and hopeful tone. He was happy, happy to know that you felt the same way about him and that you didn’t care for anything of the things that should have been hindering your feelings for him.

“Clearly you do,” you tease in response, “you haven’t even attempted to kiss me yet.”

You didn’t need to tell Juyeon twice. He gave you one small kiss on the forehead, pulling away as fast as he registered what he had done in that moment. It felt illegal to be kissing a princess after being told countless times that trying to pursue you was a horrible idea. Though you didn’t give him any time to try and open his mouth as you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him back, grabbing onto his shirt collar and pulling him close.

His eyes fluttered closed immediately, smiling against your lips as he brushed his thumb against your cheek. “Does this mean I get to become king if I end up marrying you,” Juyeon questioned, his tone lightheartedly as he stopped for a moment.

You didn’t even open your eyes as you pulled him back towards you again, a sly grin prevalent on your face as you whispered to him. “Only if you finish the sword fighting lessons we started,” you teased, “maybe then I’ll consider making you my king.”

352 notes · View notes

tonesplash · 4 years ago

Text

painkiller (leah clearwater x reader)

@super66legends87 asked:

Hi! Can you do a Leah Clearwater x fem!reader where reader used to be good friends with Leah. When Leah shifts they stop talking and reader goes into the forest to take pictures to relieve stress, but catches Leah shifting. Thanks!

pairing: leah clearwater x reader

warnings: cursing, imprinting,kissing

a/n: whew i never thought i’d get this done. I have never written for leah before and think i need a refresher but i hope you like it! i dont think i used any gendered terms for the reader but this feels p sapphic to me lol. named after the beach bunny song of the same name.

Y'know, with how temperamental Leah had been the past few weeks before she completely ditched you, you'd think you wouldn't miss her as badly as you do now. You'd heard from her brother that their dad had passed away, but you hadn't been invited to any kind of funeral, and from then on, any calls to the Clearwaters went unanswered.

Recently, it'd seemed that all of your friends on the reservation were too busy for you. Always ignoring calls or coincidentally busy on the days you'd wanted to hang out, going so far as dropping out of school so you couldn't even confront them then. You'd thought what you'd had with Leah was different, that despite the changes you'd both been going through that you'd miraculously stick it out and finally get to tell her how you feel. Evidently, it was too late for that.

So you threw yourself into your art. Photography had always been a nice outlet for you. Whenever you became stressed or upset, driving out into the mossy woods of Forks, Washington, and capturing the sights was as good as a long talk with someone you trust. And since she was apparently too busy, this was your next best bet.

You pull off of your favorite backroad outside of city limits and climb out with your camera bag in tow, fully prepared to spend the afternoon losing yourself in what the great state of Washington had to offer.

You had just gotten comfortable amongst the roots and rocks when a grey blur came barreling out of the woods. When it staggers to stop, you can see that it's a massive wolf. With gargantuan paws and lengthy but muscled legs that lead to an absolute barrel of a chest. Your camera slips between your fingers in your shock.

Its hindquarters are to you, and it looks to be in pain, stumbling to the side and violently throwing its head back and forth before its form shrinks and flinches down to the forest floor, leaving in its place the bare crumpled form of your best friend. You sit up in surprise to get a closer look.

"Leah?"

The choppy hair of her head whips with it as she faces you, blushed red with exertion, and stained in angry tears, as she glares at you over your shoulder before her eyes soften with something you’d never seen directed from her at you before.

All at once, you are tackled to the forest floor. She seems to have grown a foot in your time apart, body corded in lithe muscle, so unlike the slender girl you knew before. Leah's stern expression doesn't match the tone of her voice as she keeps you pinned beneath her.

"You can't tell anyone, and I mean ANYONE, what you just saw." Your shock keeps you still and silent, like a deer in headlights, and when your brain continues to short circuit, she leans closer to speak quietly, her hair tickling your cheeks. Her scent and overwhelming heat immediately encompass you, leaving something warm and fuzzy to grow inside you.

"Promise me you will keep this a secret." Her voice is uneven and creaky like she'd been crying. You’d never found her more beautiful, cheeks suddenly on fire.

"Yo-” you stutter and pause to swallow. ”Your tits are out." Leah’s resounding laugh washes over you and makes you all fuzzy inside. You feel as if you could pass out. The heat rushing off of her is comforting and suffocating all at once.

"Yes, and they were out last summer when that wave got lucky, (Y/n); I need you to focus."

"I promise not to tell anyone that my best friend turned into a gigantic wolf if she would just put a shirt on." You rush out in one breath, eyes tightly shut. Amidst your disorientation, you still try your best to be respectful.

Later, after Leah had procured a pair of Soffe shorts and a tank top from rifling around in a bush and dressed with your burning face turned away, you both settled in your backseat for a serious talk.

You both start at the same time.

“Wh-”

“(Y/-)

That’s never happened before. You’ve never felt so out of sync. The emotional overload of the situation is making you jumpy, and you honestly can’t tell what Leah is thinking behind her dark eyes.

“No- you go ahead.” her firm tone leaves no room for argument and after that, the words just fall out.

“What the hell Leah?” You didn’t mean to yell, and she flinches at your intensity at first, but you press on, incensed by your anxiety. “Do you know how worried I was about you? All I wanted to do was be there for my best friend and you- you shut me out! I thought you’d done something after what happened with your dad! With Sam?”

Leah remains silent during your outburst, respectfully listening, but looks like she’s holding herself back with the way her eyes anxiously flit over you. She begins to bounce her leg, shaking the carriage with the corded muscle and you notice for the first time how close your knees are, and it feels like a current is running between the joints, something inside you urging to close the gap, but your ire keeps you from being tender.

“A-and then you show up and you’re a goddamned wolf? Am I fucking dreaming?” Your hand’s card through your hair and nervously run your thighs as your anger turns to sadness.

“Lee… I was in love with you.” Your voice cracks at the admission and suddenly you are looking at your hands, playing with the hem of your shirt. “And you just left. I thought I meant more to you than that,” you admit, quieter.

Suddenly, the backseat feels a whole lot warmer, your tears are welling with emotion before she scoots closer, eyes warm, and you startle, now crowded against the window.

Leah pulls you in gently, first cupping your cheeks and regarding you quietly for a negative reaction before pressing her lips to yours. Your worry dissipates, and you’re just alone with Leah. In that moment there is nothing else but her and you are warm, and safe, and overwhelmingly loved. When she pulls away from the kiss, you can’t help but unconsciously follow before it breaks off. She lingers, propping one arm on the seat to support her head as she entwines your fingers.

“After my dad I just…” She wavers at first but her voice firms up quickly, leveling her gaze with you and gripping your hand tighter in her sweltering hands as she speaks with conviction. “Shut down. And I'm sorry, that wasn't fair to you, and you didn't deserve that.”

“I wanted it to be you, but I couldn’t risk putting myself through that again (Y/n), you have to understand.” You shift uncomfortably, bracing for rejection, but she takes up your other hand in her own and squeezes reassuringly.

“But now I know, you were right here in front of me the whole time!” She says a bit too loudly at first. “It’s you. You’re it for me.” Leah excitedly scoots closer, more animated than you’d seen her in years. She drops one hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, eyes shining with adoration and you’re frozen on the spot.

“I love you.”

She kisses you again, harder this time, and you pull away before you can lose your train of thought again.

“Leah- what do you mean I’m-” You reluctantly interrupt before she cuts you off with a final peck ,moving to give you room, intense concentration crossing her face.

“Do you remember? What Dad told us about the Spirit Warriors?”

You had spent many a night on the res, sleeping over with Leah to watch Seth or just sit by the fire and listen to the elder’s tales and legends. The night he’d relayed the story you’d both spent chasing each other around the house pretending to be wolves.

“Are you saying you’re….” You trail off, already knowing the answer when she nods, still watching you for a reaction. You guess that’d make the most sense. When you stay silent, she continues.

“And I know this is sudden and confusing, but (Y/n) I swear it will all make sense later.” Leah tangles your fingers again, bringing them to her face to kiss your knuckles nervously before continuing.

“You’re my-” she pauses, hesitating. “my imprint.”

You try your best to take this seriously but the words come out before you can stop them.

“Oh, so we are really in Warrior Cats territory now.” You really need to get some help.

“(Y/n) you are my soulmate and I love you. But if you bring up Warrior Cats to me like that again I will find the highest cliff just to throw you off it.” Her deadpan expression is marred by a smile she can’t fight, so you know you’re safe for now.

“Noted.” You giggle and pull her closer. “Kiss me.”

#leah clearwater x reader #leah im sorry ur gf is a bimbo #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #reader insert #sapphic #fluff #twilight

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boiolay · 4 years ago

Text

Paper Scribbles | Mark Lee

summary: the one mail that made him wish he did things differently | childhood bestfriends!au + idol!Mark

genre: fluff; angst

warnings: swearing

word count: 6K

"Mark! You've got mail."

It was already past midnight when they arrived at the dorm. After working the whole day on the choreography for the comeback, the only thing the boys wanted was to go to bed and sleep for as long as they could. Mark especially. He had been drained out of energy for being involved in so many activities, differents unities, choreographies, composing… He felt like his days had less hours than his members’ so everything else than work, at that moment could wait.

"Just leave it over the table. I'll take a look tomorrow." He mumbled rubbing his eyes as walked to his bedroom.

"I think you should take a look. It's from Canada."

He stopped as soon as he heard his home country. It wasn't unusual for him to receive mail from his parents, but they would always tell him they were sending something. He frowned trying to remember if his mother had said something and was almost sure she didn't, but he still turned around walking back to Taeyong letting his curiosity take over him.

"Thanks, hyung."

"Don't take too long, Markie."

Mark nodded taking the brown envelope from his hands before the older walked away. Plopping down on the couch, he twirled it around searching for the sender's address. He didn't have a clue where that was, it was definitely from Canada, but the place written on the paper didn't ring any bells from who it could be.

Until he found your name.

He widened his eyes and held his breath as he read the name printed on the paper a few more times checking if he wasn't just imagining. It had been years since he last heard of you. And seeing your name written by a handwriting that wasn't his was making his heart do things that he didn’t know it could do again.

During all those years he hasn't heard of you. But you were in every little thing that surrounded him. You were on his reflection in the mirror every time he saw the little scar under his chin from when the two of you were trying to learn how to skate. You were in the black socks that he wore because you always told him the white ones were lame. You were in the stars in the sky that you used to stare as you laid on the grass from his backyard on a weekday when you were supposed to be studying. And especially, you were in the lyrics of every song he wrote.

Seeing it, he couldn't help but let his mind wonder back to the days when you were his partner in crime. When everyone in the neighborhood knew that when one of you were seen alone you were planning something. When his parents knew that if he wasn't on his bedroom at a friday night, he would be at yours. When he thought you were gonna be forever.

It was probably a summer morning when you met. It has been so long that neither of you remembered, and it didn't actually matter. The two of you only knew that you meet in a playground, you weren't even three yet, Mark was feeling too shy to join the other kids on the sand box, so you walked up to him and offered your favorite cookie, asking him to be your friend. Your mother once told him you wouldn't share it with anyone but him. Well, he took a bite from it and threw it on the floor. It made you cry, but as soon as he saw tears rolling down your cheeks, he felt bad and hugged you. That was when your friendship started, and little did you know that you would never leave each other's side. At least until you were fifteen.

You were together in every memory he had from his childhood. When you started preschool, your teachers instantly fell in love with the two of you. On your first day, you came hand in hand. He had a red cap that was almost big enough to cover his eyes and you had your pigtails bouncing as you made your way to the class. You had the biggest grins on your lips, you were the only kids in the whole class that didn’t throw a tantrum to leave their parents, after all, you had each other. There was no way your teachers wouldn't fall in love at the sight of you comforting the other children. They only found out that the duo meant trouble when, a week later, in art class, you would replace your canvas with each other's faces. At the time that idea of having pink all over your face sounded just right. It would match your dress!

Another episode that warned what was yet to come was when you were caught trying to sneak your pet rabbit into the school trip. Mark helped you to put it on his bag so you could bring it to meet it's cousins at the zoo. Your plan failed when Mark opened his backpack to put his lunch on it on your way to the school and the rabbit jumped out. Your moms had to hold back their laughters as they tried to scold both of you.

You wouldn’t stay away from each other even when you were grounded. Whenever your parents tried to punish you for misbehavior or something, you always found a way to be with each other. Once he was grounded because he was caught eating candy in the middle of the night, and that made his parents not let him leave the house in the following day. In the next morning, they woke up to Mark laying on his belly on the entrance hall happily kicking his legs with the door wide open. As his dad walked further to investigate what was going on, he saw you on the porch in the same position as the two of you drew and talked. Mr. Lee just shook his head grinning before inviting you to breakfast. Mark didn't disobey his parents, after all he didn't leave his house.

Mark was really found of all those memories, even though some were told by his parents and others he remembered vaguely, he treasured every moment he had with you. As he grew up, his memories became gradually more defined so as he could remember the details of them, they also became more meaningful to him.

He was able to remember, for example, you giving him a bouquet of red flowers and wearing a dress of the same colour the night he played the flute on his band for the first time, he had felt so happy to have you clapping excitedly at his performance. Or even when you spent the whole night helping him finish his biology project that was due the next morning even though you had an english test the same day. Of course he didn’t know that, otherwise he would have never asked for your help, but when a friend in common told him that, he remembered feeling guilty and selfish. So he bought your favorite ice cream with his lunch money and stood in front of your class waiting for you to leave, ready to comfort and apologize to you. For his surprise, you came out smiling.

“Didn’t you fail?” You laughed throwing your head back before reaching to take the cup out of his hands and linking your arm with his.

“You think too low of me, Mark Lee.” He sighed relieved smiling while you made your way back home chatting. Little did he know that you, in fact, failed, but seeing him waiting for you made it feel like nothing.

One memory that repeated itself every year, but became more clear in his mind as he grew up was when the two of you would run between the sprinklers of your front yard in the summer, laughing and purposely getting wet to cope with the hot weather. These were his favorite memories. It was something that first happened when the two of you were still little and your parents were too distracted with the barbecue party to notice you sneaking out. When they did, you were in the middle of the lawn giggling and running away from the water jets with your chubby feet. Mark recaled the same scene a few years later, the two of you just a little older with the same happy smiles on your lips. This time, you were being chased by your siblings and were big enough to know how to use a water gun. The last time it happened, always brought a grin to Mark’s lips, all the details were clear as day.

He ran after you with the smile he always had whenever you were around, you also ran, but away from him. You screamed for him to leave you alone, but the laugher that would come out of your mouth every time he came close to catch you told him you didn't actually mean any of that.

“I’m serious, Mark! I don’t want to get wetter than I am!” You shouted at him as you faced each other from opposite sides of the sprinkles, you laughed at him resting your hands on your knees. You two were panting from all the running, but you couldn’t be happier.

“Too bad you will, loser.” He smirked at you and jumped through the jets to get to you. A surprised yelp left your lips, but you reached to take the hose that was just behind you and splashed it on his face. He coughed surprised when the water hit his eyes and you turned it off as soon as you heard him, your eyes widened and your mouth agape as you watched him recover from your sudden attack. As Mark rubbed his eyes, you walked closer to him trying to hold back your laughter with the hose still in hands. You touched his back that was turned to you and caressed it softly talking with the sweetest voice, knowing he couldn’t get mad to you when you did that.

“Oi, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to-” At that moment, he turned around and jumped on top of you making you fall on the ground. You wiggled under him to try to pull him away, but he held your wrist pinning you down so you couldn’t move. He smirked taking the hose from you and splashing all over you, finally getting his revenge.

“You son of a bitch!” “Yah! Don’t curse my mother!”

He laughed as stared at you pouting with your red cheeks and your hair all wet spread on the grass. He couldn’t think of a moment when you looked more beautiful.

“I’m sorry. I forgot it’s not your mother’s fault you are an idiot.” You flashed him a teasing grin that in just a few seconds turned into a genuine smile. You stared at his sparkling eyes and soft smile that always made your heart skip a beat. His hair was all messy and wet and you couldn’t help, but run your fingers through his strands. He closed his eyes enjoying your sweet touch leaning his head closer to you.

“Yeah, but you still love this idiot.” He whispered and when opened his eyes to stare back at you lovingly, you grinned leaning up to rub your lips against his and whispered before kissing him slowly and tenderly.

“Well, you are not wrong.”

Besides the good memories you shared, you have always been there for each other, in the good and bad moments. Like when he broke his arm and you did all his homework for three weeks, or when your grandmother passed away and he was there to wipe all your tears. But like in every friendship, you did have a lot of fights, mostly petty ones.

Once you tried to cut your own fringe and ended with just a tuft of hair on the top of your forehead, when he saw it he laughed so hard he felt on the floor out of breath. You gave him the cold shoulder for the next two days. That was until, after your soccer practice, you forgot you were supposed to be mad at him and stormed into his bedroom with your cap still on talking happily about the goals you’ve made. He looked at you puzzled as you laid beside him on the bed, you frowned at his confused face, but soon remembered you were not talking to him. And when you were about to stand up to leave, you saw him smirk and point his chin to your head.

“Nice cap.” You punched him on the arm, but couldn’t hold back a smile.

“Shut up.”

Another one was when you gave him spoilers of the new Spider-Man movie. He knew it wasn’t your intention, but he so wanted to see for himself that when you told him about the ending scene he ignored you for a whole day. He only accepted your apologies when you said you would go see the movie with him and would pay for the popcorn. In a minute it was all forgotten.

You were fourteen when you confessed. Neither of you knew when the romantic feelings towards the other appeared. They were just there, hidden, until it bloomed like a flower in the spring, always ready to pop up just waiting for the right moment. It didn’t surprised him tho. It had always been you, just the two of you. Maybe it sprang up was when you held him a little tighter than the other times when he came home from a trip with his family.

It had been over a month since he had gone to the middle of nowhere, you didn’t talk during that time because he had no access to internet. Of course he missed you, you were everyday with him, how wouldn’t he? What he didn’t expected was that when you came running to him, just a few minutes after they parked the car in the garage, his heart would go on loops. He saw you coming his way with the brightest smile on your lips, your yellow flowered summer dress floating around you and your hair fluttering, for some reason he froze on his spot as watched you come.

Has she always been that beautiful?

He only came back to his senses when your body hit on his almost knocking him down on the ground. He automatically wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly against him not wanting to let you go and hoping you wouldn’t hear the drums inside his chest. When you pulled away, too soon, he stared at you with shining big eyes and you smiled shyly under his gaze.

“Hi.”

“You grew taller.” It was only then that he noticed he had to look down to talk to you now. He just nodded, lost of words, as you kept looking at the changes on the other. You stayed like that, secretly admiring each other’s features until his brother cleared his throat beside you.

“Are the lovebirds gonna help or we’ll have to wait until the wedding?” He was used to people teasing you like that, but you would always shrug it off or roll your eyes. However, this time it felt different. He saw you blush and mumble saying that you would help his mother before walking inside the house, he felt his ears burn and widened his eyes at his brother making the older laugh.

Or maybe it was when he said 'i love you' after you gave him a bowl full of watermelon on one of your movie nights. You would always tell each other that, but that time it had a different meaning. It didn't held the same teasing tone as before. He had said it with so much tenderness and had the softest look on his eyes. It was such a usual moment, the two of you just chilling in the living room, you wearing his hoodie even being summer. You have said it was a bit chilly outside, but later he would find out that you liked to be surrounded by his scent.

It just felt right to say at that moment. And he did it.

You just smiled extending him the bowl, ready to say it back like everytime you did something to him. But when you looked down at him he saw you freeze for a moment as you stared deeply in each other’s eyes. The same words you would always tell the other felt completely different now. And you could tell which that meaning was by his eyes that shined and overflowed with affection, admiration and love. When you smiled shyly with your cheeks tinted bright red and sat beside him, closer than you would before, he knew you were alright.

"I love you too, Mark."

And it was just like that. You confessed to each other in the most intimate, yet innocent way it could have happened. And you knew. There was no need for other words. You reached over to lay your hand between the two of you and he gently placed his own on top of yours with a smile on his lips and his heart beating wild. He looked at you with the corner of his eyes and saw the most beautiful smile on your face as he laced your fingers together.

Not long after that you shared your first kiss. You guys were too shy and flushed to do it before, but just like the rest of your relationship, it just happened.

He was walking you home after your first official date, or, after going for some ice cream. It was like before, but now he could hold your hand whenever he felt like. When you got to your front door, he reluctantly let go of your hand and pressed his lips together standing in front of you. He shifted his weight from one side to the other and saw you playing with your feet as looked everywhere but him. You both felt what was about to happen. Mark was nervous and he knew you also were, after all, neither of you had any experience in anything that was happening.

He cleared his throat softly and wiggled his body back and forth moving his gaze to you.

“So… I’ll come tomorrow. And we can go to the pool or try that muffin recipe you found…?” “Cool. That’s cool for me.”

“Cool.” When you raised your head to look at him, he chuckled softly noticing you had a little bit of ice cream on your chin. How cliché, he thought.

“You complain that I’m a messy eater, but look at you.” With a warm smile, he stepped forward and held your jaw with one hand while the other gently rubbed the stain out of your skin. Your faces were closer than they have ever been. Mark saw the blush on your cheeks, but didn’t say anything as he felt the blood flood his. He stared at your wide shining eyes and you both couldn’t held back a smile. All the anxiousness from before completely dissipating as you drowned on each other’s eyes, he suddenly felt at peace. Feeling your breath against his skin, he closed his eyes. The only thing he remembered after that was his lips on yours.

It was... weird, but good weird. It was wet, there was too much tongue, teeth meeting more than it should. It wasn't his fault, neither yours, that’s just how everyone’s first kisses are. But yours felt just right. The way he held you tightly, like he was holding the world on his hands. The way he caressed your face tenderly. The way you held his hair, gently pulling him closer to you. The way you smiled against each other’s lips and giggled. The way your heartbeats synchronized into one.

After you pulled away, eyes still closed, you just stood there with your arms around each other and beaming smiles on your faces. When Mark opened his eyes, he met yours, you have never seen his eyes shining so bright like that. You exchanged your goodbyes and he hugged you one last time pressing a sweet kiss on your forehead before crossing the street. He was on cloud nine and so were you.

Nobody was surprised when they found out you were dating. In fact, almost everyone you knew seemed to have made a bet on when the two of you would get together. Mark realized that when saw his brother giving yours twenty dollars, he had bet that Mark would only grow some balls to ask you out after you started dating someone else and your brother had bet that he would be your first kiss. Said and done.

Your parents were thrilled when you told the. Although all of them knew you were eventually end up dating, your father was hoping it would take a little more time, but that didn't stop him from inviting Mark over just to ‘hang out’ as he used to say, even when you were busy. He told Mark that he felt like his second son and couldn't’ have wished for someone else to be with his little girl. He really enjoyed spending time with your father too, he felt like he belonged to the family even more. The only one that wasn't very keen of the two of them together was you, he would always laugh when you argued with your dad saying that Mark was your boyfriend, not his.

Besides that, our relationship was much like any other. You had dates everyday, they wouldn’t always be going to amusement parks or to the cinema, most of them were the two of you sitting down while Mark played his guitar, or doing your homework in silence enjoying each other’s presence. The time you would spend just the two of you immersed in your own world was his favorite type of date.

One that he treasured was when the two of you had just finished your exams in school, he knew how stressed you were so he decided that you had to chill out a bit. He took two of the biggest blankets he could find and as much pillows as he could carry and ran across the street with his hands full. Since he basically lived in your house he didn't bother ringing the bell, he walked to your backyard and settled the things down on the grass and sent you a text that said “ i’m by the pool. bring doritos.”

He watched as the lights of your bedroom were turned off and smiled to himself as he laid down on top of the pillows. When you came to meet him, you had a side smile on your lips and were already in your pajamas.

“What is this?” He grinned brightly and reached for your hand, that you gladly held, pulling you down to lay beside him.

“This is me making you stop overthinking your grades.” You rolled your eyes playfully, but followed his lead and snuggled him under the blanket.

You talked for hours. About the most silly things, your deepest desires and fears, you were each other’s safe place. At one point of the night, he was talking about whatever while staring at the stars, but you had found a much more interesting sight. You were on your side facing Mark and had your head rested on your hand, you couldn't help a smile as you stared at his profile. You couldn’t tell, but Mark saw your eyes roam every feature of his face, his almost defined apple cheeks, his pink pretty lips, his little nose…

“Are you even listening to me?” He giggled when turned to face you and meet your mesmerized eyes. You shook your head lightly before smirking softly.

“I was not. It’s not my fault you distract me.” He laughed throwing his head back and clapping his hands as he felt a little blush creeping on his cheeks, but he moved to lay on his side to face you. You reached a hand and touch his face caressing every part you had been staring, rubbing his cheek, bopping his nose, what made he giggle more, contouring his lips with your thumb, but when you locked eyes he heard a sight leave your lips.

"I love your eyes, you know..." You blurted out. "I mean, I love all of you, but your eyes... They have a special place in my heart." You chuckled and stopped your hand on his apple cheek caressing it gently. He grinned widely and reached to hold your hand intertwining your fingers.

"Is that so? Why?"

"They sparkle. I feel like i can see your soul looking at them. They shine. Just like your soul, Mark. And you have such a beautiful one, baby.”

Those words stuck to him until now and whenever someone complimented his eyes he thought of you.

One thing he was grateful for was how much support you gave him. You were always there for him, supporting him no matter what, hyping him when he was feeling down and doing your best to make him happy. It was even you who he told first about the SM audition that was going to happen. You quickly ran to his house to make sure he had typed his informations correctly in the enrollment paper. He was still uncertain if he should try, he was very insecure of his abilities and just the thought of leaving for the other side of the world made his heart ache, but he just let you think that his hesitations were because of his insecurities.

“Mark! You are amazing. I've already told you this a thousand times! There's nothing to worry about. You are so talented... They are gonna love you. And if they don’t, first their loss. Second, this is just a try out, it’s just the beginning, love. Your life won’t end because you failed one audition. Okay? Have some faith in yourself!”

You skipped school to go with him to the audition. His brother offered to drive Mark so you could join since his parents would have asked if yours had allowed you to come, the answer would have been no. During the whole ride to the city center, Mark had his legs shaking frenectly. You tried to sooth him by holding his hand and caressing the back of it, but he was too nervous, not even your touches could make him calm down.

Once his brother parked the car he felt his heart stop. Mark was so tense that he didn't remember much of what happened after that. He knew his brother had talked the whole time you were waiting, making jokes to try to make him laugh and you hadn’t let go of his hand even for one second. He was glad you were there to reassure him even if it was just by squeezing his hand.

At some point he was told by the staff that he had to go alone from there. He sighed deeply and nodded at his brother and you, if he wasn't so terrified the would have laughed, it looked like you were the one auditioning. You let go of his hand and offered him a smile, he turned around to walk inside, but after a few steps he felt your hand on his arm, meeting your gently eyes when he turned back.

“Hey. Before you get in. I just want to say how proud I am of you. I can't put in words how amazing and talented you are. Just trust in yourself, Mark. You are gonna shine more than the brightest star in the sky. And i'll always stand by your side no matter what happens.” You winked and gave him your brightest smile. “Now go get them.”

That was all what he needed to regain his confidence.

The results came a week later.

When he told you the news you screamed and laughed like never before, hugging him so tight that he had to ask you to loose it a bit. You had told him how happy and proud you were of him and gave him a little lecture about how he should trust himself more, but soon was kissing all over his face again. Before you left to go home, he thought he had seen a different shade on your eyes, but he shrugged it off at that time.

The time he had to say his goodbyes and pack was way too short. He tried to stay as much as he could with you, but he had a ton of things to do before leaving to Korea it made hard for you to have some time alone. He was feeling bad because he felt like he wasn’t giving the attention you deserved, but you reasured him that it was alright, that you understood why that was happening and that you would be with him even if he just had two minutes to talk to you.

On the day before he would go to Korea he took to spend it only with you, he took you to a walk on the park, bought you your favorite ice cream, took you to the little playground where you met and didn't let go of your hand. It didn't even feel like he was leaving, he was so happy to be able to make you laugh and look at your bright eyes that he forgot why he was doing that.

He only remembered it later that day when he heard you on the sleepover you were having at his house. Neither of you were supposed to sleep, so you could spend more time together, but he closed his eyes and felt asleep. He woke up a few minutes later when heard the bathroom door close followed by your quiet sobbs. He realized how difficult it was for you to let him go. He knew you were happy for him, but he could understand what you were going through. Having your best friend in life that it’s also your boyfriend to move to the other side of the world while you had no choice, but sit back and watch, it breaks anyone's heart. He didn't think he could be so selfless if he was in your shoes. All the times when he thought about becoming an artist he saw you by his side, but he realized that you always somehow knew that wouldn't be possible, that you couldn’t be part of that. Even so, you were there supporting him, wanting him to pursue his dreams, to be happy, even if that meant that you would have to let him go.

Just by hearing your shaky breath he could tell you were trying to control your emotions, but every time you would inspire, a loud sobb would come out from your chest. It was too painful hearing you break like that. He barged in the bathroom what made you quickly try to put a smile on your face and hide your sadness, but failed. He just pulled you into his chest and buried his face on your neck letting his own tears flow down his cheeks while you resumed crying, this time on his arms. Once you were calmer, he brought you to the couch where you hugged each other for the whole night while he caressed your hair and whispered on your ear sweet nothings and promises that he didn’t know he could keep.

You didn't come to the airport with him in the next day. You had told him that you prefered to say your goodbye on your street when you could pretend he was just going on a trip. He had laughed, but felt his heart ache. When the time came, you tried not to look at him, he knew you didn't want him to see you cry again, he knew you wanted to be strong for him, but he held your face to make you stare at him, he wanted to look into your eyes since he didn't know the next time he would be able to do it.

You didn't need to say a lot of words to make him understand everything you wanted to tell. He pulled you to a last tight hug staying like that for a few minutes. Eventually, he had to pull away since his parents were telling him they should go. He held your face between his hands, eyes roaming around your features like he was trying to engrave the sight of you on his brain.He let go of you with a nod once he felt tears start to rush to his eyes. As he was about to enter the car, you held his hand catching his attention. You walked to be in front of him and leaned up to press your lips gently against him.

“I’m really proud of you. And I love you.”

And then he left to Korea to chase his dreams, leaving the love of his life behind.

All those memories, those intense moments brought a sad smile to his lips and made tears well up on his eyes. He sighed deeply rubbing his hands on his face and trying to put himself back together after those old feelings that had come intensely over him all at once. Even after so long you had the same effect on Mark as before.

Yes, of course he dated after you. He fucked around, he was at his peak of popularity, there were girls falling on his feet, he tried to forget you, he tried to find someone with whom he could share his life. But none of them felt right the way you did. He couldn't help comparing them to you and none of them came even close to be as special as you were. Even if his head wanted to let go of you, his heart wouldn't . He couldn't love them the way he loved you. The way he loves you.

Mark stared at the brown envelope on his hands and twirled it one last time before opening with trembling hands. Inside there was another envelope, but this time it was a pretty white paper sealed with a golden wax. He turned around to look at the back and he read his own name written in your elegant handwriting, just like in the notes you would leave around his bedroom or on his notebooks. He smiled fondly and ran his finger over his name feeling warmth spread on his chest. Soon, after letting his thoughts run to you again, he left out a shaking breath before finally breaking the seal and pulling another paper from inside, his heart beating wildly on his chest.

As soon as his eyes met the first words he froze. His heart sank. Feeling a bitter taste on his mouth he read the golden letters over and over, but couldn't believe. Or didn't want to. He only realized he was crying when some words on the bottom of the paper were becoming blurry. He dropped the papers on his lap and rubbed his eyes trying to get rid of the excess of tears on his eyes. His mind was blank. How could that have happened? How he could have let that happen?

He the papers once again, but this time he noticed something that he didn't have before.

At the back of the paper, on the top corner written on a red pen that didn’t match the golden letters printed on the paper there was a inscription scrambled on your handwriting. He couldn't help sobbing when he finished reading. It said:

“My love, i confess, i’m getting married, but the love of my life was and it’s always gonna be you. Yours, ___ .”

author’s note: so....??? i loved writting this so much, but i cried so hard at the end. I would really really really love to read what you guys thought of it. And if you came until here, thank you so much!!! <3

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mel-at-dusk · 4 years ago

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SEX, LIES AND CHEAP COLOGNE: AN ORAL HISTORY OF ABERCROMBIE & FITCH’S SOFTCORE PORN MAG

The story of how an oversexed, strangely intellectual magazine by a polo shirt brand completed the improbable task of changing the course of sexuality in America’s malls, homes and moose-print boxers

Abercrombie & Fitch CEO Mike Jeffries was a shrewd businessman, but he didn’t always make the best decisions. Between the blatantly racist T-shirts he signed off on, the child thongs he called “cute” and the series of public statements he made admitting that his brand intentionally excluded anyone who wasn’t “cool” and “good-looking” with “great attitudes and a lot of friends,” it’s no wonder that he spent the majority of his reign at Abercrombie in hot water. (For the uninitiated, Abercrombie made what fashion writer Natasha Stagg calls “sexy versions of the clothes kids already wore to school: T-shirts and jeans, stuff you could toss a football in or throw on the grass if everyone decided to go skinny-dipping.” More importantly, as she writes in her book Sleeveless, it was “for those who were casually peaking in high school.” It, meanwhile, peaked in the 1990s.)

An exception to Jeffries’ questionable CEO-ing would be A&F Quarterly, the glorious, controversial and questionably pornographic “magalog” he created at the height of the brand’s popularity in 1997 in order to connect “youth and sex” to its image. Woven in amongst surprisingly thoughtful interviews with A-list humans like Spike Lee, Bret Easton Ellis, Rudy Guiliani and Lil’ Kim was a cascade of naked photos from photographer Bruce Weber which showed nubile youngs in various states of undress. They were frolicking, they were caressing and they were deep in the throes of experimenting with types of sex that — at the time — had never been portrayed by mainstream brands.

With issue titles such as “XXX,” “The Pleasure Principle” and “Naughty and Nice,” the Quarterly dove headfirst into the risque. During its 25-issue run between 1997 and 2003, it printed interviews with porn star Jenna Jameson, offered sex advice on how to “go down” in public and suggested — on multiple occasions — that its readers dabble in group sex. One issue published an article on how to be a “Web exhibitionist,” another featured a Slovenian philosopher barking orders to “learn sex” at school and big-dick Ron Jeremy even stopped by to talk about performing oral sex on himself and using a cast made from his own penis.

The actual Abercrombie clothing being modeled in the magalog was an afterthought, appearing in Weber’s photos as more of an impediment to nudity than an actual, purchasable item. The whole thing was, as journalist Harris Sockel put it in an Human Parts essay, “20 percent merch, 20 percent talk and 100 percent soft-core aspirational porn.”

None of this would have been vexing had a more adult-oriented brand been the ones hawking it, but Abercrombie & Fitch was — and still is — marketed toward suspiciously toned teenage field hockey players named Brett. Though he might have looked like a man in his big salmon-pink polo, Brett was but a child. Abercrombie was fond of saying its clothing was for college-aged clientele, but we all knew where its real haute runway took place — inside the crowded halls of every middle school in Ohio.

The Quarterly, too, was intended for college kids, and to prove it, Abercrombie shrink-wrapped it in plastic and sold only to those over 18 for $6 a pop. You could buy it as a subscription, of course, but it was more commonly found in-store, nestled alongside A&F’s cargo shorts and “thongs for 10-year-olds,” a questionable placement that prompted concerned parents, conservatives and Christians to accuse Abercrombie of sullying their children’s minds with impure thoughts.

As such, the Quarterly became the subject of a mounting number of boycotts, protests and controversies that some believe were responsible for its eventual demise. By the time circulation peaked at 1.2 million in 2003, it had been denounced by organizations like the National Coalition for the Protection of Children and Families, Mothers Against Drunk Driving, the American Decency Association, Focus on the Family, the National Organization for Women and, of course, the Catholic League.

Yet the outrage against the Quarterly was matched — if not exceeded — by its cult following, who found its frank portrayal of sexuality to be transcendent. Journalists, artists and the teens whose hands it fell into adored the magazine, and its rarity — plus its utter absurdity — makes it a sought-after collector’s item to this day.

At the same time, few people know about the Quarterly and even fewer realize what it meant to the generations of young people discovering themselves and their sexualities through the unlikely lens of branded content. As journalist Emily Lever puts it, “There’s no weirder way to learn about sex than to pick up a magazine by Abercrombie & Fitch — a brand for hot, mean mostly white kids who shoved you into lockers — but, I guess I’ll take it?”

This is the story of how an oversexed and strangely intellectual magazine by a polo shirt brand completed the improbable task of changing the course of sexuality in America’s malls, homes and moose-print boxers.

AND IN THE BEGINNING, THERE WAS ASS

The first issue A&F Quarterly debuted in June 1997. With 70-ish pages of full-color hard bodies, it was relatively tame compared to later editions, but it quickly became popular when Abercrombie’s nubile clientele realized it was a paper-backed portal into an adult world of sex, nudity and the kind of unbridled sensory hedonism their parents warned them about. As rumors of its legend began to spread, people began to wonder: What the hell is A&F Quarterly, and why is it printing ass for teens?

Emily Lever, journalist and chronicler of the Quarterly’s absurdist philosophical leanings: A&F Quarterly was an in-house magazine put together by Abercrombie & Fitch that published a who’s who of literati to accompany their images of young adult and teen bodies in order to hawk expensive distressed jeans and polo shirts to kids who would shove you inside a locker.

Alissa Quart, author of Branded: The Buying and Selling of Teenagers and director of the Economic Hardship Reporting Project: From what I recall, it had a Bruce Weber-y vibe — gorgeous young men and teens unapologetically objectified, a leering retro pin-up element, also sort of like the highly stylized, sexed-up, nostalgic 1980s and 1990s black-and-white Guess ads. Men — boys, really — were photographed without their shirts, elaborately muscled abs, sometimes naked.

Harris Sockel, in his Human Parts essay: [It was] Playboy crossed with Fratmen.com and a bit of Field & Stream. The Quarterly made my hormones do a kick line across my frontal lobe. I wanted to nibble the soy ink for snack until sunrise. To absorb it so deeply I sweat grey drops onto my pillow. To rip a page from that issue and fold it into a paper flower and stick it all the way up my ass until it came out my mouth.

Lever: Yeah, it was hot. But it was also extraordinarily literary. It featured big-time thinkers, writers and philosophers — stuff that was supposedly intended to expand your mind. It was way too high-brow for the average Abercrombie teen, and its existence made almost no sense given what the brand represented.

Savas Abadsidis, editor-in-chief, 1997-2003: There was nothing else like it. We were the first mainstream brand to combine playful, irreverent, intellectual content with sex and youth in this beautiful, high-art magazine format. Was it controversial? Sure. But it made the entire country take notice.

What they didn’t necessarily see, however, was what was going on behind the scenes. Not only were we the first brand to do this kind of advertising, we were also the first big brand to normalize gay culture for a mainstream audience, expose America’s youth to some of the era’s most progressive thinkers and use our platform to address sexuality in a useful, hands-on way. And you wouldn’t necessarily expect that from Abercrombie. That’s what made it so cool.

It all began in 1996. I was 22 and working at a temp job for a prominent New York architect who happened to be friends with Sam Shahid, a big-time creative director for Calvin Klein, Banana Republic and later, Abercrombie & Fitch. He was looking for an assistant. I had taken a deferment to go to law school and was looking for a job for that interim year, so I applied. I got in.

It was a horrible gig at first. Just awful, Devil Wears Prada-type stuff. I left crying many nights. But I had two things going for me. The first was that Abercrombie had a really small office in the West Village. Mike Jeffries, the president and CEO of Abercrombie, used to come in. He wore flip flops, had a desk made out of a surfboard and began each sentence with the word “Dude.”

Mike Jeffries, ex-CEO of Abercrombie & Fitch, speaking to Salon in 2006: Dude, I’m not an old fart who wears his jeans up at his shoulders.

Abadsidis: I didn’t know it at the time, but Mike was gay (I wouldn’t find out until much later). I think that was part of the reason why he and Sam — who was also gay — took me under their wing. They actually didn’t realize that I was, too — it’s not like we all sat around a bonfire at Fire Island and talked about how us gay guys were infiltrating Abercrombie — but that dynamic dovetailed nicely with Bruce’s photography for both the brand and the Quarterly, and it certainly set the tone for what was to come. I was grateful to get what amounted to an unofficial apprenticeship from both Mike and Sam, and eventually, they had me doing much more involved tasks than I was hired to do.

One of them was sitting in on important meetings. At the time, Mike was inviting all these different editors from magazines like Interview, Men’s Journal and Rolling Stone to come in and brainstorm ideas for what the Quarterly could be, but their ideas were flat. They felt like ideas coming from 45-year-olds writing for college kids, and I could tell Mike was getting frustrated by how little they seemed to grasp what he wanted.

One day in a meeting, one of the magazine editors threw out an idea. Without even acknowledging him, Mike turned to me. “Savas,” he asked. “What do you think about that?”

My mind raced — I could tell he was testing me. If I flubbed the answer, I’d be done. I briefly considered censoring myself, but then I thought better. What did I have to lose? I was young. Surely, I’d find another summer job. “I don’t think it’s a great idea,” I told him.

Apparently, that was the right answer. Mike practically threw the guy out of the room.

After that, I started to think more about what I’d want to see out of a magazine. I was just out of college as a French comparative literature major at Vassar, and I was super into that sort of 1950s-style Esquire journalism with the dapper closing essay. I was deep into The New Yorker, Interview Magazine, 1990s-era Details, MAD Magazine and 1980s pop star mags like Tiger Beat, too — those were all an influence. I also loved philosophy, social theory and comics. And graphic novels. You know — college stuff. Then it hit me: If the magazine was for people like me, why not get actual college kids — not 50-year-olds — to create our content?

I suspected my ideas were what they were looking for and knew they’d look fresh compared to what other editors were throwing out, so I decided to take a risk. I got up at 2 a.m. and typed out a 20-page proposal for what I thought the Quarterly should be. The next morning, I faxed a copy to Mike. I left another on Sam’s desk.

About a (very anxious) week later, Sam called me into his office and told me to pick up his phone. Mike was on the other line. As I reached for the receiver, he leaned over to me and said, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

I didn’t even have time to comprehend what that meant before Mike’s voice was in my ear. “Congratulations, kid,” he told me. “You get one shot.”

Shortly thereafter, I was promoted from Sam’s assistant to the completely green, 23-year-old editor-in-chief of the Quarterly. It was a Jerry Maguire moment. I was thrilled and terrified at the same time.

They gave me a month to put together a staff and get the first issue out. Bruce Weber was named as its exclusive photographer — he’d already been shooting ads and campaigns for Abercrombie — and Sam was the creative director. As for me, I knew I’d need an editorial staff, and stat.

HOLY SHIT, THERE ARE NO LIMITS

Abadsidis quickly throws together a team composed of two college buddies, Patrick Carone and Gary Kon, who he describes as “pretty funny and stuff.” Carone became the only straight guy on the editorial side. Kon is Jewish and gay. The three of them vow to stay as true to the idealized college experience as possible with their content — even if it means chasing white whales.

Abadsidis: I can’t remember the exact starting budget, but it was upwards of a few million, probably much larger than most magazines get for their first issue! But our budget was also Bruce’s budget. He was getting advertising money, so we were well taken care of in that regard.

We weren’t really expected to turn a profit, though. That was never the point. Come to think of it, I don’t even think we tracked how much the magazine impacted clothing sales, although from what I can remember, clothing sales bumped up double digits every quarter after we launched (for a while, at least). [This statement is unverified.] But that didn’t matter: Our mission was just to set the brand image and make people aware of us. That was our version of success. We were also our only advertiser for a while, so we could get away with a lot of stuff that other publications couldn’t.

Gary Kon, managing editor, 1997-2003: When Savas offered me the job, I jumped at the opportunity. I’d already interned for Sam, and I’d have to scan hundreds of Bruce Weber images that he shot for Abercrombie as part of the job. And I fell in love with his work. It was the visual connection that seduced me. Weber’s photos were like a new Greek mythology; the men and women depicted in the photos were both idealized and sexualized. As a gay kid, who was pretty comfortable by that time in my own skin, I had no problem recognizing the eroticism in his work.

Abadsidis: Me, Gary and Patrick was definitely something special. I don’t think I’ll ever have an opportunity to create anything like that again. I was a huge comic book fan. If I had to describe it, it’s the closest thing I’ll ever come to Stan Lee’s Marvel comics bullpen. Pretty much everyone I hired was super unique. We weren’t all gay (maybe half of us were) but few of us really adhered to the Abercrombie image.

I think Sean came on in 2001.

Sean T. Collins, managing editor, 2001-2003: I was a little skittish about it at first because Abercrombie & Fitch represented everything I was not. They marketed, almost exclusively, to the lacrosse players that called me names I cannot repeat. It was very preppy, and that was not me at all.

I was alternative, maaan. I was a big fan of Nine Inch Nails. I wore a lot of black. A&F was everything I wasn’t, and in a way, everything that had tormented me as a kid. The irony of me working for them was palpable, but what I learned very quickly was that at the Quarterly, you could do anything that you wanted.

One of my first articles was an interview with Clive Barker, the writer and director of Hellraiser (he also wrote Candyman). Now, if you’ve seen Hellraiser, you can imagine just how far of a departure a sadomasochistic horror film was from Abercrombie & Fitch, but getting him to sign on was easy. He’s gay, and at the time, he was super ripped. I think he appreciated the extravagant gayness of the Weber stuff in particular. He was also a photographer, and his husband was, too. I think he recognized what was going on with the photography.

We had an unlimited expense budget, so I took him out for drinks at the Four Seasons. I talked to him for hours, and then he invited me to go back to his house and hang out and see his art studio. He had three mansions in a row on Sunset in Los Angeles, up in the hills. One for his office, one for his actual domicile and one that was a painting studio. I got to see that. I was just a 23-year-old kid. This was my first job out of college, and I felt like Cameron Crowe from Almost Famous. After that, I was like, “Holy shit, there are no limits.”

Kon: I have to credit Savas with pushing us to work without limitations. We were very lucky. At some point during my tenure, I realized that as long as we worked within our (sizable) budget, we had almost full autonomy. We could plan trips to Hollywood to shoot our favorite actors. We could travel to Thailand to reenact our version of The Beach. We could tag along to London or Rome or wherever Bruce was shooting the catalog. We could stroll into the office at 11 a.m. and work until 11 p.m.

Collins: If I wanted to talk to Bettie Page, the pinup model from the 1950s, they’d be like, “Okay, sure.” If I wanted to feature Underworld, my favorite electronic music band, it was, “Sure, go ahead.” It was total editorial freedom, which was so strange knowing how specific of a person the “Abercrombie type was.” I’ve been writing for two decades now, and I’ve never experienced anything like it since.

Abadsidis: Everyone wanted to be in it, too. At first, it was just indie musicians. But then, in the second issue, we snagged Lil’ Kim. That’s when I knew we’d made it big. She was into it — she loved everything about the Quarterly. A lot of people did. The whole high-brow/low-brow thing was really appealing, and the idea of going to college, reading good books, getting drunk and having sex felt uniquely nostalgic and fresh in the context of America back then. Clinton was getting impeached for getting a blow job. It was just a weird, puritanical time, and the Quarterly gave people a national platform to let their freak flag fly.

We had Rudy Guiliani, early Britney Spears, Paula Abdul. There was the New York issue where we talked about the Harlem Renaissance. Spike Lee — one of my idols — asked me if he could be in it. He’d done advertising, you know? I remember him being like, “Yo, this is the deal. I’ve got to give you mad props. This is the dopest thing out right now, advertising-wise.”

We had big-time philosophers and literary figures, too. They were great. We wanted to mimic the experience of being in college and having your mind expanded, so we got writers like Bret Easton Ellis and Michael Cunningham on board. There was a whole Sex Ed issue plastered with musings from Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek, a friend of a professor’s from college. I believe Jonathan Franzen was in there, too.

Jonathan Franzen, award-winning novelist and essayist: I gave hundreds of interviews between 1997 and 2003, almost all of them at the request of various publishers. One of them must have thought it was a good idea to talk to A&F. The fact that I apparently did (I don’t remember it) signifies nothing except that I felt grateful to my publishers.

Collins: We got a lot of weirdos, too. John Edward, the guy who talked to dead people. Chuck Palahniuk, who wrote Fight Club. At the time, it didn’t have the meathead reputation that it does now. It was legitimately looked at as this piece of anti-corporate, anti-capitalist art, the irony of which was just delightful given that we were a capitalist brand trying to sell polo shirts and $90 ripped jeans.

Abadsidis: The only guy who refused an interview was Donald Trump! I have a feeling his 90-year-old secretary had something to do with it. Though we were technically a magalog and did belong to the brand, our stuff was just really visionary. David Keeps, who was the editor of Details at the time, always defended the Quarterly as a real magazine and publicly said that we were doing more innovative stories than most “real” magazines at a time.

ASPIRATIONAL HOMOEROTICS

It’s no secret that the photography and creative direction of Weber and Shahid contained homoerotic undertones. Irreverent, minimal and moody, it was suggestive without being literal, spinning entire storylines into a single frame. At the same time, it was too idealized to be “real.” The queerness that their photos showed was, as Collins puts it, “aspirational,” meaning that like the mostly white, ab-riddled models instructed to sell cargo shorts by taking them off, they didn’t necessarily represent the full reality of what queerness actually was.

Still, the photos that the Quarterly published during its seven-year run did more to normalize and represent queerness and non-monogamy than any other mainstream brand at the time — weird, considering that Abercrombie’s target market was hegemonic suburbanites whose parents bred genetically pure golden retrievers and had cabins in Vail. Without these photos, the Quarterly might have read more as a minor-league Esquire or Ivy League MAD Magazine, but with them, it became one of the least-discussed, most under-appreciated items queer history.

Collins: Our editorial content — which almost functioned as a parody of so-called “Abercrombie people” — was always accompanied by this extremely beautiful photography that was also extremely queer. But it was never explicitly so. It was all this nudge, nudge, wink, wink stuff. I don’t know how you could miss it, though. The homoeroticism was so overt.

Abadsidis: You’d have had to have been blind not to consider the imagery homoerotic (though, it was really in the eye of the beholder). We had the Carlson twins posing on the cover and riding a motorcycle. We had a drag queen named Candis Cayne. There was a lesbian couple kissing at a wedding.

Kon: David Sedaris, Gus Van Sant, Gregg Araki, Avenue Q, Stan Lee, Peaches, Fischerspooner… you could teach a queer theory class with everyone we featured.

Abadsidis: At the same time, we never labeled anything as “gay” or “lesbian” or “queer.” We never came out and said, “Welcome to our gay magazine!” and we never had a meeting where we were like, “Okay, guys, let’s figure out how to make this thing gay.” It was more nonchalant. The imagery implied it without saying it.

Hampton Carney, A&F Quarterly spokesperson, 1999-2003: The message we were sending was clear: “You do you, whatever that is. Have fun!”

Abadsidis: That was a very 1990s thing.

Collins: There was a specific brand of Abercrombie gayness that got shown, though. The word that they always used to describe Abercrombie as a brand was “aspirational.” They didn’t want to make it like an everyday, normal-people brand. They wanted it to be associated with money, glamour and that WASP-y aesthetic. So all the gay raunch of it was presented within the context of what appeared to be a very square, nuclear family: white, wealthy and secure.

At the same time, that was really when same-sex marriage was kicking off as a political issue. I think you can see a commonality in how Abercrombie was essentially making an argument that you could be a normie and also be gay. That was a newish thing at the time (though I’m barely an expert as I’m not gay myself). Still, I can’t help but see a resonance between coming up with this clandestine content that normalized being gay at the same time this big political fight that was brewing.

Maybe being more forward about it would have come across as “too political.”

Abadsidis: Part of me wishes we’d gone a little further with being more outwardly queer, but I don’t think the time was right. Maybe with a braver CEO — no one at the time was brave enough to take on queerness or gay rights as a mainstream brand, including us — and that’s why few people remember the Quarterly as the sort of transcendent queer thing that it was.

Kon: It’s never been credited as such, but the Quarterly is really an item of gay history. I don’t think we were pushing a “gay” or “metrosexual” lifestyle on people as much as we were showing that it already existed, even out in Middle America. Perhaps that’s what made people uncomfortable. We took that thread of counterculture and taboo that ran through the imagery and continued it into the editorial content. We dealt with topics like drinking, drugs, religion, politics and sex. Again, these are issues young people dealt with daily, but were rarely editorialized.

At Vassar, there was a yearly party called The Homo Hop. It was one of the biggest parties of the year and leaned on Vassar’s history as a women’s college. I bring this up because, on the night of my freshman Homo Hop, I was instructed that each student had to do something sexually that they had never done, and one drug that they had never done. It wasn’t that you had to be gay, but you had to experience something that was new and different. I think that translated well into the Quarterly. Yes, there were a bunch of gay guys writing and shooting and drawing images. But we were simply trying to expose Cargo Short Brett to ideas, images, artists, books, writers and directors that he may have never heard of before. Our shared experiences would become his.

Collins: It was culture jamming, really.

Abadsidis: It was also very “college” to be fluid or experimental without labeling it. I think it’s safe to say that college is one of the gayest places there is in life, maybe not sexually, but definitely in terms of having your mind expanded about different types of people.

Carney: I was in a frat. I’d see fraternity brothers streaking across campus together. It was never a big deal. There are a lot more people in the middle of either extreme of sexuality than people talk about. We’re not one and 10 — we’re one through 10, if you will. That kind of stuff has always happened on college campuses, and that’s the kind of mentality we had around sex. We just happened to editorialize it really beautifully.

Collins: There’s a Barbara Kruger print that reminds me of the mood we were trying to capture: It reads: “You construct intricate rituals which allow you to touch the skin of other men.” That’s basically what Abercrombie & Fitch was. It was an intricate ritual that allowed sunkissed lacrosse players to metaphorically touch the skin of other men.

Carney: You know what’s funny, though? It was never the gay stuff people had a problem with. It was everything else.

LET THE CONTROVERSIES BEGIN

For almost every moment of its seven-year life, The Quarterly was a controversial publication. Parents, politicians and conservative-types didn’t appreciate its no-holds-barred approach to rampant fucking, and they could not, for the life of them, understand how such an adult magazine was making its way into the hands of their precious teens (who were probably jacking off to dad’s Playboys long before the Quarterly came along, but I digress). There was approximately one year — 1997 — where the amount of people it pissed off stayed below a critical mass, but after a certain somebody published a story that vaguely suggested underage kids drink, it was off to the races.

Abadsidis: We got in our fair share of trouble with Christian groups and concerned parents right off the bat. Let’s take one of the earlier issues — I believe it was Summer of 1998. It was my story. Basically, I suggested that people could do better than beer and that they should “indulge in some creative drinking.” There was one drink I made up called the “Brain Hemorrhage” and a few others you could play a drinking game with. We also included a spinner insert people could cut out.

None of it had anything to do with driving, of course, but the issue was called “On the Road.” It was a sort of beat-focused, Jack Kerouac thing, so some people interpreted that as us promoting drunk driving (though we did nothing of the sort). Also, the kid on the cover was underage. He was 16, if I remember correctly. Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) didn’t like that.

Karolyn Nunnallee, vice president of public policy for MADD: We had been really focused on underage drinking and had been instrumental in getting the country’s legal drinking age raised to 21. Then Abercrombie & Fitch comes out with this weird magazine that basically said, “Don’t go back to college drinking the usual beer. We’re going to show you a new way to drink.”

Not only did they have this drinking game, but they had recipes for these mixed drinks for young people to partake in. I was like, “Abercrombie & Fitch? Aren’t they in the clothing business?” What in the world were they doing? I mean, they were a high-end brand, not Walmart. Why would they take their focus off of clothing and put it toward alcohol? Were their clothes not good enough that year or something?

Needless to say, we weren’t happy with them. Curse words were handed out. We sent a letter to them and started a whole media campaign about it. We went on as many news media outlets as we possibly could with the story of how incensed we were.

Abadsidis: I was sure I was going to get fired over that. We had to remove the page with the spinner out of every single issue across the country. We apologized, of course, but it ended up backfiring against the protesters — that incident gave us so much publicity. It put us on the map. It also made us a target for conservative types. They hated us. After MADD, boycotts of Abercrombie started flaring up all over the place. That’s around the time we hired Hampton to do PR.

Carney: It was my job, at the time, to defend the brand. I’d go on talk shows like Entertainment Tonight or Today Show and explain away our latest controversy (there were a lot). It wasn’t hard, actually; each time, I’d give them what was more or less my go-to response: “It’s a beautiful publication intended for college-aged kids.” And that was the truth! It was way ahead of its time and was absolutely meant for people 18 and up.

Though not everyone saw it that way. The sex and nudity really got to people. A lot of them definitely thought we were making porn. That was the constant complaint: We were deliberately putting porn in the hands of young kids.

Lever: The Quarterly featured about the same level of nudity as a European yogurt commercial. Which is to say, a lot. It was a “clothing catalog” with almost no clothing. Of course [American] people thought it was pornographic!

Carney: Okay, sure — there were photos of like, six girls in bed with one guy and more than a few spreads that enthusiastically suggested naked non-monogamy — but it wasn’t porn. It was tasteful. And let me tell you — nothing we had in there was surprising to kids.

Abadsidis: The models ranged from 16 to 20. It was erotic. It was art. I don’t think there’s anything pornographic about the Quarterly unless you think that nudity, in and of itself, is pornographic.

Illinois Lieutenant Governor Corinne Wood did, apparently. In 1999, she called for a boycott of Abercrombie & Fitch because its “Naughty or Nice” holiday issue “contained nudity” and “even an interview with a porn star.” That porn star was none other than Jenna Jameson, who at the time was well on her way to becoming a household name. A so-called “child prodigy” occupied the neighboring page, sparking accusations that the Quarterly somehow intended to connect children to porn.

A cartoon of Mr. and Mrs. Claus experimenting with S&M across from the statement “Sometimes it’s good to be bad” didn’t help, nor did the “sexpert” who offered advice on “sex for three” and told readers that going down on each other in a movie theater was acceptable “just so long as you do not disturb those around you.”

The Illinois Coalition of Sexual Assault joined Wood’s boycott. Later that year, Michigan attorney general (and eventual governor) Jennifer Granholm sent a letter to Abercrombie complaining that the “Naughty or Nice” issue contained sexual material that couldn’t be distributed to minors under state law.

Carney: There were four states that tried to ban us after that. I remember Granholm. She was my arch-nemesis at the time — we really got into it. I respected where she was coming from, of course, but our whole thing was that we weren’t showing anything that wasn’t actually happening on college campuses. And I’d already made it pretty clear to the press that the magazine wasn’t for minors.

Also, it’s not like we were the only magazine talking about or showing sex. You could find all the exact same stuff in Cosmo or Playboy — it’s just that we were a clothing brand, and one whose major customer base just so happened to be teens and young adults. No one expected that from us. Brands weren’t “supposed” to be talking about sex period, let alone to teens and young adults. But we took it upon ourselves to pioneer a more open, honest view of it. That’s the wrinkle that made it so interesting.

We did come to an agreement with Granholm. We decided to wrap the magazine in plastic and make it available for purchase only to those over 18, that way, it’d be even more clear that we weren’t “selling porn to the underage.”

Kon: I believe it was one of the few times the company acquiesced.

Collins: Other than that, don’t remember getting any instruction from Savas, Mike or Sam to tone it down. It was kind of mutually assumed that we weren’t going to apologize for the sexual nature of our content. We knew we had to keep things sexy, as it were — that was our whole thing.

We weren’t deliberately trying to piss off people, but we were trying to push the envelope, and there was definitely an element of deliberate trolling of conservatives and Christian groups. It was a good thing if we pissed them off. It created the controversy that made the brand seem edgy and dangerous, which is what you want if you’re trying to appeal to young people.

Carney: We were also just showing real things that happened at college. And as anyone who’s been to college knows, it’s not just about reading and writing papers. It’s also about sex. Not only that, of course, but we’re sexual beings. We respond to images that are sexual. We were trying to take the stigma away from that and acknowledge that it’s not a bad thing to do.

But no matter how clear we made it, our stance on sex polarized people more and more. I could tell, because almost as soon as I started speaking on behalf of the magazine, strange things started to happen to me. I got stalkers. People left me messages saying I was going to hell and I’d have no afterlife. I got hate mail to my house. One person left a package containing their dirty, stained underwear at the front door of my apartment with a note saying they’d be “coming by later” to “talk to me about it.” I had to call the police on that one.

I was the face of the publication, so I got the vast majority of the harassment. But I didn’t mind. It was my job to take the fall, and I heard and respected every single person’s complaint and talked to them about it. Plus, for every message I got banishing me to hell, I got another from a journalist or a fan begging me to save a copy for them. People collected them. They really loved it, precisely because it was so sexual.

Abadsidis: Mike didn’t flinch about any of this stuff. He wanted to defend it because he could see it was working. We weren’t about to tone anything down (at the time).

Flash-forward to June 2001. The Twin Towers are still standing tall, tips are being frosted and Apple has just unleashed iTunes onto an unsuspecting populace. A&F Quarterly, now in its fourth year, is in hot water once again. Having survived a number of boycotts, lawsuits and controversies since its inception, it’s now in the midst of weathering another minor national conniption over its use of nudity.

Jeannine Stein, describing the Summer 2001 issue in an excerpt from a Los Angeles Times article called “Nudity? A&F Quarterly Has It Covered”: [It’s] explicit in ways that most catalogs and fashion magazines are not, and its use of male nudity is uncommon among general-interest publications. It features 280 pages of young, attractive men and women alone and together, in serious, romantic, sexual and party modes, wearing lots of A&F clothes, some A&F clothes and sometimes no clothes at all. Among the coffee-table book-ish photos by Bruce Weber is a man, covered only by a towel, surrounded by five women; a woman at the beach reclining body-to-body with three men; a back view of a naked man getting into a helicopter (we haven’t quite figured that one out yet); and a few topless females.

There are many naked butts and breasts.

Abadsidis: We also had photos of nude women in a fountain — which were inspired by Katharine Hepburn skinny-dipping at Bryn Mawr College — and a whole set dedicated to the Berkeley student that spent a day naked in class. It was par for the course for us, but even though we’d done the whole shrink-wrap and over-18 thing, people still felt it was too sexual for branded content.

In response, an unexpected alliance formed between cultural conservatives and anti-porn feminists to boycott Abercrombie & Fitch over the Summer 2001 issue of A&F Quarterly. According to Wikipedia, the offending issue included “photographs of naked or near-naked young people frolicking on the beach,” “top-naked young women and rear-naked young men on top of each other” and an “interview with porn star Ron Jeremy, who discussed performing oral sex on himself and using a dildo cast from his own penis.” Once again, Wood was at the helm.

David Crary, journalist, excerpt from a 2001 Associated Press article: Illinois Lt. Gov. Corinne Wood — a Republican who has been sparring with A&F since 1999 — announced the boycott campaign last week in Chicago. She has recruited a diverse mix of supporters more familiar with facing off against each other than with working together.

Wood, writing on her website in 2001: A&F is glamorizing indiscriminate sexual behavior that unsophisticated teenagers are not possibly equipped to weigh against the dangers of date rape, unplanned pregnancies and sexually transmitted disease.

Michelle Dewlen, president of the Chicago chapter of the National Organization for Women, speaking at one of Woods’ press conferences in 2001: It’s not a catalog. It’s a soft porn magazine.

Rev. Bob Vanden Bosch, head of Concerned Christian Americans, as quoted by the AP: It’s very important for people to get involved. The exploitation of sex and young people in A&F’s catalog isn’t only atrocious but also a psychological molestation of their teenage customers.

Quart: It was predatory in a few ways, really. One was that it confused the corporate identity of Abercrombie and the advertising with the editorial. It preyed on young consumers not understanding the difference between editorial content and sales content. Back then it led, I saw, to a way that girls were objectifying themselves and commodifying themselves. It ultimately led to boys also objectifying themselves and commodifying themselves — not to the same extent, but far more than they were when I started reporting Branded a little more than two decades ago.

I have the stats on the male body image dysmorphia at the time in Branded (which has only worsened). Then, male body shaming and “manorexia” was on the rise, for the first time on a mass scale. It couldn’t help for the most popular brand at the time to have a dedicated giant glossy magazine filled with pictures of male teenagers with zero body fat half undressed.

Abadsidis: I mean, sure, as much as any advertising does. It wasn’t like we were leading that charge. Any effect on self-image was certainly unintentional, but I do think it did make people want to be athletic. You definitely saw a lot of guys trying to look like that during that period, especially as time went on. If you look at the first few issues, the guys aren’t that built. Ashton Kutcher was actually in the second one — that was his first big break — and they get increasingly more cut from there. That whole era is when men’s body issues started to come out.

Lever: I’d also submit that all this was controversial because it was pre-internet. The internet mainstreamed sexual content in a way that makes A&F or other “scandalous” ad campaigns (like the 2003 Gucci ad with the model’s pubes shaved into the shape of a G) seem quaint, even obsolete. Like, do you remember that Eckhaus Latta ad a few years ago that scandalized people for five minutes because it showed people having real (albeit pixelated) sex? Neither does anyone else.

SLAVOJ ŽIŽEK TEACHES SEX ED

Always filled with philosophy, social theory and intellectually minded topics that likely soared over the heads of most Abercrombie consumers, the Quarterly outdid itself in the Fall of 2003 with its penultimate issue. A gorgeous romp of summer-spirited abandon accompanied by some delightfully incoherent, Dada-like musings from Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek, it connected a “back-to-school” theme with a pretty clear directive to fuck. Yet, the information it presented was actually rather safe and tame, a reality which confused and irritated Quarterly staff. Their content was legit, so why was everyone up in arms?

Abadsidis: The “Sex Ed” issue was the second to last one that we did. It got some of the most criticism, and was supposedly the reason everything was finished. I literally had stuff in there cited straight from the University of Michigan’s freshman student handbook on sexual conduct, and it still pissed people off! Then, of course, there was Žižek.

Lever: Žižek identifies as a radical leftist. He’s very famous for his work on cultural theory and critical theory. He analyzes all kinds of topics in his signature, impenetrable — but also approachable — style. And when I think of him, I think of his very distinctive manner of speaking, that some people have described as being on cocaine constantly. But he’s definitely kind of a cult figure, a favorite of people who consider themselves highbrow, but also fun.

He’s really touted as the greatest anti-capitalist of our time, and yet, here he was, “sexually educating” the mean girls and boys of your high school, in a brand catalog whose entire goal was to ensnare young people for the purpose of selling them distressed jeans.

According to the magazine’s foreword, the editor wrote to Žižek and said this: “Dear Slavoj, enclosed please find the images for our back to school issue. We’ve never had a philosopher write the text for our images before, so write what you like. We’re looking for that Karl Marx meets Groucho Marx thing you do so well. Thanks, Savas.”

Abadsidis: I love Slavoj. He was friends with one of my professors from school. He only had 24 hours to write this, so we actually sent someone to London where he was to drop off the images we wanted him to write text for. They hung out for a day and then flew back with what he’d written.

Lever: It was basically a series of insane, absurdist ramblings pasted over really hot naked people.

Žižek, excerpt from A&F Quarterly’s 2003 Sex Ed issue: Back to school thus means forget the stupid spontaneous pleasures of summer sports, of reading books, watching movies and listening to music. Pull yourself together and learn sex.

Lever: I mean, that’s like the first episode of every teen TV show, where these three nerdy boys start high school and they’re like, “Okay, we’re going to be cool this year guys. We’re going to lose our virginities.” It’s very formulaic. But there’s more.

Žižek: The only successful sexual relationship occurs when the fantasies of the two partners overlap. If the man fantasizes that making love is like riding a bike and the woman wants to be penetrated by a stud, then what truly goes on while they make love is that a horse is riding a bike… with a fantasy like that, who needs a personality?

Lever: The “go learn sex at school” part really struck a nerve with conservatives. But I don’t think it was that transgressive. Fourteen-year-olds are receiving messages to have sex all the time — what did it matter if some Eastern European anti-capitalist was hitting them over the head with it through the pages of a polo shirt advert?

Abadsidis: Fox News got involved, if I remember correctly. That was one of the few times I actually got pissed off about how an issue was being covered. I mean, the information in there was handed out to students by an actual university. Half the issue was quotes from this really influential philosopher. But for some reason, people really took offense to the language of it. That whole year [2003] was just a bad one for us.

THE LAST HORNY CHRISTMAS

For its final trick, the Quarterly released a holiday issue featuring 280 pages of “moose, ice hockey, chivalry, group sex and more.” It had oral sex, group sex, sex in a river, Christmas sex and pretty much every other type of sex you could think of, all which followed an earnest letter from Abadsidis which read: “We don’t want much this year, but in keeping with the spirit, we’d like to ask forgiveness from some of the people we’ve offended over the years. If you’d be so kind, please offer our apologies to the following: the Catholic League, former Lt. Governor Corrine Wood of Illinois, the Mexican American Legal Defense and Education Fund, the Stanford University Asian American Association, N.O.W.”

But the issue didn’t really hit. By fall 2003, Abercrombie was involved in a number of lawsuits and protests related to exclusion and discrimination, which left people cold despite the inviting warmth of a crackling, fireside circle jerk (a Weber offering which, I’m told, can be found on page 88 of the final issue).

Cole Kazdin, journalist, writing in a 2003 Slate article called “Have Yourself a Horny Little Christmas”: The challenge for me, when masturbating with my friends to the nubile nudies in the Abercrombie & Fitch catalog, is trying not to think about serious things like racial diversity; it tends to kill the mood. But because most of the models in the catalog are white and because a lawsuit has been filed against the clothing retailer for allegedly discriminating against a Black woman who applied for a job at the store, it’s hard for the issue not to rear its nonsexy head. [In 2004, Abercrombie also agreed to pay $40 million to settle a lawsuit that accused the company of promoting whites over Latino, Black, Asian-American and female applicants.]

Collins: As a brand, Abercrombie did a lot of things that were quite gross. I’m sure you remember when they came out with these T-shirts with these racist stereotype characters on them. You would just see it in the catalog and just be like, “Jesus Christ.” It was awful and stupid and self-defeating, just tone deaf. And we just couldn’t figure out how no one at the company saw the problem with it.

Stagg, excerpt from Sleeveless: Kids in my high school wore shirts that read, “Wok-n-Bowl” and “Wong Brothers Laundry Service: Two Wongs Can Make It White,” accompanied by cross-eyed propaganda-style cartoons. If you weren’t part of the in-crowd (and white), A&F was oppressive. Non-jocks made their own anti-A&F T-shirts, using the brand as a catchall for exclusionary, competitive behavior and old-fashioned bullying.

Carney: That stuff was indefensible, really. Those were the darkest days of my job — listening to calls and reading letters about how offensive those shirts were. Even though the Quarterly was quite separate from the brand and we had no influence over what they did or what clothes they designed, we did still have to print their stuff at the back of the magazine. It was pretty uncomfortable.

Stagg: By 2006, Mike Jeffries’ most controversial public statement on sex appeal was really just saying what we were all thinking: “Are we exclusionary? Absolutely.�� Those remarks were followed by lawsuit after lawsuit, mostly involving staffing discrimination. An announcement about the store refusing to carry anything over a size 10 reportedly marked a noticeable decrease in sales.

Abadsidis: There were a lot of underlying problems at the company. The amount of negative press Abercrombie was getting was getting silly. No matter what we did, we’d end up in the news, especially if it was related to the Quarterly. After so many bad news incidents, it just felt done, like its moment had passed. It was bound to crash at some point.

Gina Piccalo, excerpt from the Los Angeles Times: Clothing retailer Abercrombie & Fitch has pulled its controversial in-store catalogs after outraged parents, conservative Christian groups and child advocates threatened a boycott over material they said was pornographic. However, a company spokesman said the move had nothing to do with the public outcry. The catalogs were pulled to make room near cash registers for a new Abercrombie & Fitch fragrance.

Abadsidis: People like to think that the boycotts and Christian protests had something to do with it, but that wasn’t the case at all. By 2003, Abercrombie’s stock was low — something to do with ordering too much denim. The store was having negative sales for the first time. There was the line in the New York Times, who covered our demise, that Mike was “bored” with it.

Collins: We had no warning. We were all there one day, and the next, we were gone.

Lever: The Quarterly was a relic of a different time. I feel like it could never have been made after 2008 for so many reasons — economic, and cultural and political. It would just never fly. It was made before feminism pervaded everything, at a time where you could be completely flagrant about gross patriarchal shit and still get away with it.

It was kind of like this last gasp of a certain conception of what’s desirable — a very hegemonic coolness exemplified by white Ivy League frat kids who got fucked up the night before their philosophy class. That doesn’t have much currency anymore. Abercrombie kept that image on life support until its last gasp.

Now, 20 years later, what’s cool is not that. What’s cool is to have depression and ADD. The ideal is out. The real is in. And the Quarterly, having always existed in the liminal space between, is neither here nor there.

EPILOGUE

In 2008, Abercrombie resurrected the Quarterly in the U.K. for a limited-run special edition to celebrate the success of its European stores. The original team was reunited — Abadsidis, Shahid and Weber — with the hopes that Britain’s more “open-minded approach to culture and creativity” would provide a welcoming substrate on which to re-grow their original ideas of sexual liberation. The issue, “Return to Paradise,” was “more mature” than its American cousin. It was well-received — aside from the usual protests about sex and nudity — but it wasn’t continued.

Two years later, in 2010, the Quarterly was revived again, this time as a promotional element for Abercrombie’s Back-to-School 2010 marketing campaign, which bore the unfortunate title of “Screen Test.” The lead story Abercrombie put out on its website sounded like a cross between American Idol and a gay porn shot: “The staff of A&F Studios opens up to editorial to explain the steps the division takes to find new, young, hot boys. The cattle-call approach to herd young talent ends with the best of the beefcake earning a screen test that ‘could be the flint to spark the trip to the star.’”

Bruce Weber would be shooting, of course. This would become especially ominous after he was accused of a series of casting-couch style sexual assaults by 15 male models beginning in 2017. According to the accusations, he subjected them to sexually manipulative “breathing exercises” and inappropriate touching, insinuating that he could help their careers if they complied.

Arick Fudali, a lawyer at the Bloom Firm, which represents five of Weber’s alleged victims, declined to confirm or deny whether any of the alleged assaults happened on a Quarterly shoot. If they did, they’re not prosecutable as sexual assaults in New York. Because the states’s statute of limitations on reporting rape is only three years, anything that happened during the Quarterly’s run wouldn’t count toward a sexual assault charge (unless a minor was involved, which Fudali also declined to confirm).

No one I spoke with for this story remembers seeing, hearing or experiencing anything like what the allegations against Weber describe, but some expressed concern over how they might affect the legacy the Quarterly leaves behind. “The accusations are pretty grim,” Collins told me. “You feel for the people who are put in that position. People had power over them. It just makes you think, ‘Was any of this worth it?’ Not really, if people were getting hurt.”

As such, it’s difficult to conclude with definitive sign-off about the Quarterly’s legacy. Either it was a bastion of progressive and transversive sexuality that simultaneously trolled and nourished the very audience it sought to mine, or it was the product of darkness and pain. Either way, Sockel sums it up just right: “The Quarterly was discontinued in 2003, after the American Decency Association boycotted photos of doe-eyed bare-assed jocks in prairies and glens,” he wrote in his recollection. “It was nice while it lasted.”

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crownjimin · 4 years ago

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✰ 086 | baby fish, part one

la vie en rose ━ in which lee aera, a girl who has been crushing on choi soobin for a long, long time, is starting her junior year and her friends decide that its time for her to make her move.

A/N: the entire thing ended up being 5k so like the last written part, i broke it up into two separate posts, which is why it took me so long to update. part two will be posted tomorrow.

( masterlist | prev | next )

The entire week leading up to Saturday was abnormal, to say the least. Firstly, Haeun hadn’t spoken a word about her and Hyunjin’s meet up from the previous Friday. From what Aera could tell, Haeun didn’t seem sad, which the smaller girl thought was good, but Haeun also didn’t seem completely happy. If Aera had to describe how her friend looked, she would probably say serene or tranquil, like she had less to worry about. There was definitely a weight lifted from Haeun’s shoulders, as far as the smaller girl could tell, but if that feeling would last is what Aera was unsure about.

Coupled with Haeun’s odd behavior, this week was the first that Jiah had insisted on Jeongin and his friends joining their table for lunch. Maybe it was because Hyunjin and Haeun had “resolved” their issues, so inviting his friends wouldn’t be awkward for Haeun, but Aera is almost certain Jiah forgot to wonder whether or not this would make Aera awkward.

On Monday and Tuesday things were fine when it came to seating arrangements. Sanha had sat next to Aera, since she sat at the very end of the table, meaning only one person could sit next to her. Soobin sat at the opposite end of the table, the furthest seat possible from her, something that Aera tried not to purposely pay attention to (or feel sad about). But on Wednesday, Soobin had decided to switch seats with Sanha, so instead of Sanha keeping Aera company, it was Soobin. From there, things progressively got weirder for Aera, mostly because she noticed that she wasn’t panicking at the thought of being so close to her long-time crush. And Aera always panicked when it came to Choi Soobin.

Maybe it was because Soobin had been to her house before, he had met her parents, and for crying out loud, they even hugged. So him sitting next to her should be a walk in the park for her, and it truly was. Up until Soobin’s leg brushed hers.

At first, she chalked it up to an accident, since it initially happened as a result of Soobin shouting out in excitement at something Huening Kai brought up. But once his leg had returned to its regular position, away from Aera’s, Soobin had deliberately moved it back, bringing back the warmth that came with it. And even worse, he stared at her while he did so, eye contact ensued, and maybe that meant something important to Aera.

She wasn’t sure yet.

The last bit of change that occurred throughout the week was that Soobin was everywhere. Yes, Aera and Soobin already shared two classes and lunch together, but usually Aera would walk there herself. But after lunch on Wednesday, Soobin waited for Aera to throw away her trash so they could walk to Music class together.

Together. Like, side-by-side.

While Aera never imagined herself walking anywhere with Soobin, having him as a somewhat guide, since he was so tall, wasn't that bad of a thing. He could see over the majority of everyone’s heads so Aera didn’t have to worry about navigating her ways through the crowded halls. Added onto the fact that the clutter of students practically parted for Soobin meant that Aera’s usual four minute trek to class was shaved down to two.

And from lunch to music wasn’t the only time Soobin walked her to class. He walked her from music to physics, then from physics to her brother’s car after school, keeping her company as she waited for her brother to arrive from his last class, which Aera used to do on her own.

But now she had Soobin.

So, yes, the week leading up to Saturday was odd. All of these actions, more so the ones from Soobin made her really think, was Saturday supposed to be a date? Is that why Soobin decided to start walking her from class to class and sitting next to her at lunch? Is that what people do when they start dating? Aera had no clue, but she couldn’t help but to have the smallest bit of hope that it meant something good.

_ _ _

When Soobin had told Aera that they would hang out on Saturday, it wasn’t until the day of that he realized he never told her what time. So on Saturday morning, as he woke up at a quarter past ten, he shot Aera a text, telling her he would be there by noon. Unsurprisingly, she texted back quite fast with a simple okay. Soon followed by another text, oh and also good morning soobi.

Soobi.

If anyone else had come up with the nickname he probably would’ve thrown up, but it wasn’t anyone else. It was Aera.

Honestly, Soobin had never felt this way about anyone before. He wasn’t inexperienced when it came to having an occasional crush, he’d had plenty of them throughout middle school and even had one on Lee Chaeryeong in ninth grade before he decided that dating was one of his last priorities—so none of this was new to him. What was new to him was Lee Aera and the way she came out of nowhere, with her adorable eyes and cute pouty lips.

The first time he saw her he swore his first thought was: “is this love at first sight?”. Soobin wasn’t one for cliches or overly romantic gestures, but he was prepared to be at her beck and call, ready to do whatever she wished after that first glance. It was odd, and dramatic almost, which was weird because everyone knew Soobin was level headed and almost nonchalant when it came to pretty much everything.

But the way he had been acting recently whenever it came to Lee Aera was anything but level headed or nonchalant. And maybe he liked it a bit, he liked knowing that there was potentially someone he wanted to genuinely make happy in a non-platonic sense. Someone that mattered romantically to him, rather than as a friendship and it excited him while it also made him nervous.

He never actively sought to make someone his girlfriend before. He never had the self-doubt or the burden of worrying about a perfect date, and yet the moment Lee Aera showed up and smiled at him, his mind started thinking about and opening up to the idea of a relationship. It’s funny how much one person can influence sudden change in someone’s life, and at the moment Soobin was experiencing that firsthand.

But, oh, Soobin remembered, this wasn’t a date.

Brushing his teeth and styling his hair was quite easy for Soobin to handle on his own. When it came to choosing his outfit, that’s where Soobin found trouble. He changed from a collared white shirt to a plain tee, then back to the collared shirt. From sweatpants to joggers, back to sweatpants then to jeans. His collared shirt then turned into no shirt at all and instead a hoodie, and finally Soobin felt like he looked presentable. His outfit was simple enough to not clash with his purple hair (which was starting to fade, so he needed to decide a day where he dyes it back to dark brown).

The obvious choice in shoes were his high top black converse, and then he finally went downstairs for a light breakfast. By time he scarfed down his cereal it was eleven-thirty, so he called for his mom to see if she was ready.

From there, it was fast-paced. The trip to Aera’s house was blurry, and him ringing the doorbell was a fuzz as well. He seemed to snap from this odd state once Mrs. Lee, or Dongmin as she asked to be called, opened the front door with a bright smile and widened arms. With sounds of excitement, Dongmin pulled Soobin into a tight hug, swinging back and forth as Soobin heard the sound of his mom’s car engine turning off and a car door slamming.

At that, Dongmin stepped aside and ushered Soobin into the house, pointing up the stairs as she said, “Ae is upstairs, you can go get her.”

And with that, Soobin peeled off his shoes and began up the stairs. It wasn't hard to see which room was Aera’s since a large A was hanging on the closed door of only one of the many rooms on the second floor. He knocked and waited for a reply, but with the loud music that was slightly audible through the door, Soobin knew he wasn’t going to get an answer.

He took it upon himself to slowly push the door open, and the second he did so the loud music flooded into the hallway. Soobin was greeted with a sight that he couldn’t help but describe as devastatingly adorable and a pleasant view for his eyes.

Aera danced around her room with closed eyes and the utmost conviction, as if this was the last ever performance she would ever give. Her dance moves weren’t anything close to perfect, but they were so imperfect that they seemed natural coming from her. It made Soobin chuckle at her antics, an almost awed and proud feeling for him to see his favorite person so carefree and comfortable in her own space.

Soon though, she whipped around as she continued to sing, and spotted Soobin as he smiled at her with crossed arms and a teasing glint in his eye. He watched as she slipped on the hardwood floor from her socks as she scrambled over to her desk to shut her speaker off.

Silence filled the room for half a second before they both broke out into laughter, Aera with a more embarrassed tone compared to Soobin’s pure glee.

“Forget you saw that,” Aera spoke once she finished laughing. “You saw nothing.”

Soobin shrugged coyly, poking his bottom lip out in a joking manner. “I don’t think I will, Pouts. To me, it looked like you were putting on a good show.”

Aera’s cheeks tinted a shade of red as she stood frozen in place for a second. She then puckered her lips as she pointed at Soobin before she shook her head, seemingly deciding against saying whatever was on her mind. Soobin takes that as her moving on from the entire ordeal and begins to look around her room. Instead of posters lining her walls, like he had expected, there was art work, some framed while others were just sheets of paper that were pinned into the wall.

Some of the pieces were colored, others just rough sketches made with what looked like a pen or pencil. Many of them weren’t finished, just random sketches of life-like hands or other body parts--one page having multiple sketches of noses of different shapes and sizes, some with shading and others with scribbles over them.

Aera never spoke about or mentioned any interest in drawing, and maybe it was something she wanted to keep private because the moment she realized Soobin was studying the art on her wall, she rushed over to him, and practically shielded them from his eyesight with her body.

“They’re terrible, I know,” she said, grabbing one of his arms and turning him the opposite direction, so his back was facing the wall. “I just do it for fun, so please don’t judge too hard.”

Soobin quickly shook his head. “I’m not judging at all. And they’re not terrible, they’re really good—like super good.”

“You’re only saying that to spare my feelings.”

“No, really,” he followed Aera as she walked to her closet. “I wouldn’t lie. It’s really good.”

Apparently, Soobin had followed too closely and too quickly, because once Aera had reached her closet and gotten what she needed (which were her shoes), she had whipped right back around, colliding forehead first into Soobin’s chest. They both jolted at that, Aera jumping back and Soobin doing the same, except he didn’t land on his feet, he landed on his butt after his foot caught onto a stray piece of clothing that was on the floor.

Immediately, Aera rushed to help him up, tossing the shirt that Soobin tripped on across her room a little too harshly, before she tugged him off the floor. His clothes were disheveled and Aera was panting a little too hard from the energy it took for her to pull him up, but they didn’t have time to dwell as their mothers shouted up the stairs after hearing the thud of Soobin’s fall.

With that, the two of them gathered themselves and left Aera’s room, heading down the stairs fast and awkwardly, with Aera behind Soobin. So far this “not date” was starting off fantastic.

_______

Neither of their mothers noticed the awkward air between Soobin and Aera once they greeted them at the bottom of the stairs. Soobin’s mother and Dongmin seemed to have bonded quite nicely while Soobin was in Aera’s room, seeing as two empty wine glasses sat on the coffee table in the living room.

Soobin’s mom, who Aera learned was named Ruha, reassured the two of them that she was more than sober enough to still drive them to the park where they planned to hang for the afternoon, and the three of them planned to head out. But first, Dongmin made sure to ask Aera a million and one questions before she could leave.

“You have a jacket?”

“What about money? Do you need money? Go check your dad’s wallet for some money.”

“What about your phone? Is it charged?”

“Are you sure those pants will keep you warm? You know it’s getting chilly outside. Maybe you should go chang--”

“Eomma,” Aera gasped. “It’s fine! I’m fine! I have money, my phone, and a jacket. It’s fine!”

Dongmin rose from her spot on the couch and walked up to her daughter, smoothing her hands down her shirt sleeves while simultaneously raking her eyes over the entirety of Aera’s outfit. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Dongmin takes a second to look at Soobin, “Awe, how cute! You guys are all matchy-matchy.” She points at the both of them before grabbing each of their shoulders and smashing them together. “Same shoes and black jackets, so cute. Ruha, look.”

Soobin’s mom walked over from her spot by the door to see what Dongmin was cooing about and once she explained everything to Ruha, they both began teasing their children. Soobin took control of the situation before it got any worse and reminded his mother of their plans, wrapping his arm around his mom’s shoulder as he led her towards the door while shouting a farewell to Dongmin. Aera followed close behind after she looked at her mother with a deadpan look, already regretting having Soobin pick her up from her house.

And per usual, Dongmin ignored the look from her daughter and sent her a flying kiss as Aera walked out the door and to Soobin’s mom’s car.

#choi beomgyu #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #hueningkai #kang taehyun #choi soobin x female oc #kpop #social media au #txt #txt social media au

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sechssstan · 5 years ago

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Sechskies Headcanon: First Date

//so in honour of Sechskies’s 23rd Anniversary, here’s a lil something for you all! 23 years guyss, 23! I hope y’all enjoy this!//

Eun Jiwon:

-picks you up

-loses his words as soon as you appear because you were the most beautiful person he ever seen

-brings you to a fancy restaurant, pull your chair for you, wait for you to choose. when you chose something with a side salad, he judged you and scrunched his face

-you talked and talked, and he shared a story about his time filming NJTW

-once you both are done with the meal, he offered his arms and you slid your arms through as you walked to the cashier.

-you insisted to pay but he denied and said you can pay for dessert

-so you both got ice cream (he paid again), and sat at the nearby park where you continue taking and laughing about everything and anything under the sun.

-he drove you home and sent you to your door.

-you were standing with your back against the door and him facing you, wishing time would stop

-he just stared at you and to hide the blush that’s growing on you, you turned to open the door

-but he grabbed your wrist and turned you, “can I kiss you”

-you nodded, closed your eyes as he closed in on you. His breath, his warmth radiated and you thought your heart was gonna leap out on you

-he broke the kiss, hands still on your cheeks, “let’s do this again”

-you blushed so hard, and he just smiled. he waited for you to close the door before leaving.

Lee Jaijin:

-waits for you at the entrance of the museum, nervously

-tells himself that he’s not but when you appear from a distance with your cute dress and curled hair, he felt like his heart was gonna come out of his chest

-“Heyyy! You look great!”

-You were sure that you could feel like ears burning up, and so he laughed at you and brought you in the museum

-you know a bit of art, here and there. But when Jaijin explained to you a portrait, you just wanna listen to him talk forever

-he brought you to a not so crowded gallery and told you how this portrait was his favourite. he likes looking at it if he’s in need of inspiration

-you both then head for dinner at a nearby cafe.

-you guys talked and talked and realised there was nothing to be nervous. Jaijin was ready kind and responsive

-after the dinner, he dropped you off at your house.

-just before you exit the car, he grabbed your forearm and hesitated.

-you looked at him, and he finally said, “do you wanna go out with me again?”

-if only he could hear your heart beating so fast.

-“yes”, you said and kissed the side of his cheeks before leaving

Kim Jaeduck:

-soft boi Jaeduck would pick you up at your front door and pace around nervously

-when you came out, he lost his words because damn you look so out of the world

-you waved your hands in front of his face and he snapped out of his daydream

-Jaeduck brought you to a bowling alley because.., well he’s jaeduck

-“if I win, we will go out again. How about that?” he teased, knudging his elbows.

-“and if I win?” you challenged.

-“then you can choose whatever you want” he grinned.

-Jaeduck started first, and he got a spare. When it was your turn, you got 7 pins. You could see the smug on his face.

-Jaeduck was confident he will win, till the 3rd round onwards. You were getting strikes and spares every round.

-YOU WON.

-“you liar! You said you weren’t good”

-“I said, I wasn’t good because my friends all played Bowling in college” you shrugged

-“fine, what’s your wish?” he asked, wary

-“let’s eat first!”

-and so you did, you headed to the cafe nearby. Jaeduck made jokes, tells you about the time he almost died during dance practice. And you told him about your day, how you are enjoying each day.

-the day ended and he walked you home. “You still haven’t tell me what you want”

-you smiled and before you went home, you looked at him, “my wish is to have a second date”

-Jaeduck just looked at you, surprised. And then broke into the cutest smile.

-he pinched your cheeks lovingly, “you could have just said. You just wasted a wish”

-“I’m more than happy to waste it on you”

Kang Sunghoon:

-Sunghoon will be waiting for you at the lobby with chocolates.

-when you came out, he broke into a smile, excited to see you, but, nervous

-he greeted you and passed you the chocolates.

-Sunghoon would surprisingly bring you to mini Golf, because well he wanted to be “unconventional”

-it wasn’t a bad place, the mood was cool and you actually had the opportunity to play Golf and still talked to him.

-he discussed with you on his latest projects, and things he want to try to do. You told him about your day and how you’re excited for summer to come because you wanna go to the water park.

- “hey if I make this shot, you will go to the waterpark with me”

-you nodded your head, and ushered for him to make the shot.

-and he shot, but it missed the hole. you were disappointed, you hoped that it went him because you wanted to go to the waterpark with him.

-Sunghoon saw your expression and went to the ball and rolled it into the hole, “so do you want to go the waterpark with me?”

-your disappointed face now broke into a small smile and you quickly headed for the next course.

-after the mini Golf reaches its end, both of you chilled at park nearby.

-you guys continued talking and you realised you were slowly having good feelings for the man

-“hey, you didn’t give me an answer” he asked suddenly.

-“you looked down, swinging your feet, “of course I want to”

Jang Suwon:

-classic suwon would bring you for movie and dinner.

-he would wait anxiously for you at the theatre, with the tickets and popcorn and drinks

-when you arrived, he almost dropped the popcorn he was holding because you look really good.

-“woahhhhh” you hurried, saving the popcorns

-suwon regained his conscious, “so I got the stuffs, shall we?”

-you held his arms, “we shall”

-movie was great and occasionally, you would bump hands with suwon when taking the popcorns. In which he will, break into a smile and let you have your turn

-“man, the movie was bad. I’m sorry” he confessed

-“it’s fine, who would have known”

-so dinner was a quiet bbq house. Both of you couldn’t stop talking about how bad the movie was and it made you realise how much you matched each other.

-you talked about food, hobbies, pet peeves, favourite dessert, tips and tricks on surviving in a deserted island.

-and when it suddenly got quiet, suwon suddenly asked, “let’s do this again?”

-you stopped grilling the meat and looked at him, searching for hints in his eyes

-“okay, but I’ll pick the movie next time” you said

#sechskies #jekki #eun jiwon #lee jaijin #kim jaeduck #kang sunghoon #jang suwon #sechskies headcanon #jekki headcanon #sechskies scenarios #jekki scenarios #ot5 #first date

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bookcoversalt · 6 years ago

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2019 Debut YA Covers Megapost (part 1)

I’ve fallen off the wagon of keeping up with cover reveals even a little, and there were a whole bunch in the past few weeks, so to get back up, i’m gonna try to do quick and dirty rundowns of as many 19 debuts as have had cover reveals (that I haven’t already talked about) as I can this week! HERE WE GO (these are in no particular order):

1) BLOODLEAF by Crystal Smith

Oh Bloodleaf, you expensive little TOG rehash. What have you brought us. This is another Billelis creation, and I actually like the type! The hypercondensed slight serif feels appropriate but fresh for YA fantasy and the color scheme, the central flower image, and the silver thorns are all really working. BUT I have the exact same issue that I had with the updated Dark of the West cover; the “fancy border with illustrated story-relevant elements” thing doesn’t really work for me when it’s uneven and almost-random the way this is. The crown, moon and tree up top are so symmetrical and balanced that you expect the same thing in the opposite corners, and instead you get a castle with a lot more visual weight than the others, plus a raven and a bow that are just...... hanging out? This would have been a stronger cover with the additional symbols completely removed; the flower and thorns are plenty of visual interest alone.

2) THE PIONEER by Bridget Tyler

I am obsessed with this one. I don’t know a damn thing about the book, haven’t seen it hyped on twitter or anywhere else, but this cover is gorgeous and perfect and evocative; there’s DEPTH and DRAMATIC COLOR and it’s got BISEXUAL LIGHTING and the outlined type is INTERESTING. It’s an aesthetic cousin to the UK Edition of THE DEVOURING GRAY that i talked about here and it looks like a movie poster and I want it on my wall.

3) ENCHANTEE by Gita Trelease

Poor Enchantee has already had a cover redesign (old on the left, new one on the right, with the face). It was for the better, although they didn’t address my biggest issue with the original, which is that tYPE. The even-width, sort of chalkish calligraphy SCREAMS “art director’s instagram” and “cloyingly cute NEVERTHELESS, SHE PERSISTED posters you can buy on Etsy”, and “chalkboard signage your high school friend pinned to her WEDDING INSPO pinterest board”, rather than. Yknow. Sexy Magic Revolutionary France, which is the book. Where is the CONTRAST. where is the impression of ACTUAL INK. (Also: I didn’t crop these weird, the type being cut off/ a tangent on the edge there is Actually Like That.)

The Lipstick-ed face DOES say Sexy Magic Revolutionary France, so I appreciate its presence and also think it looks good (it def is victim to looking a little like a tumblr graphic, a phenomenon i have mentioned before, but that’s pretty harmless here); and the gold paint splotches and red-blue starry textures are pretty! They could have done a less halfassed job getting the vivid blue cropped around her chin, but. C'est la vie. I like it and I’m actually super hype for the book itself.

4) THE FEVER KING by Victoria Lee

This is......... a weird one. I love the colors! the blue and purple (veins?) lightning is really striking (LOL) and the texture is super visually interesting. I’m very curious to see the print choices eventually; I think matte vs glossy vs texture vs foil could make a big difference in how this one feels overall. I sort of wish SOMETHING was different, just to make this a little less symmetrical or abstract, whether that’s a different text layout or an additional focal point in the imagery or whatever, but I do think it fundamentally works as-is.

5) FOUR DEAD QUEENS by Astrid Scholte

Thanks, I hate it! this shares a lot of problems with the Burning Glass cover and everything I dislike about lazy object covers generally: the imagery is unclear at first glance (what a waste of all that detailed rendering) and not evocative of anything in particular in terms of mood, setting, or themes, and the type’s layout COULD NOT BE MORE BORING + is an ineffective use of the space and has a totally unnecessary glowy effect. The “spotlight” effect could generously be considered to be a visual signifier of the ~ murder mystery element but. oof. is a 90s crime drama aesthetic really what you want your secondary visual to be on what seems to be a pretty serious YA fantasy book?

(Okay, it could be worse, at least the hierarchy is clear and sensible. but that DNA crown, lmfao.)

6) AGAIN, BUT BETTER by Christine Riccio

I got a couple requests for this one, and I really like it!!! i think the illustration style is SO cute and the whole layout is simple but effective. The little touches like the birds in the corner and the placement of “a novel” are all perfectly balanced; it’s a more successful version of the illustration on WHAT IF IT’S US (and a few others, like HOT DOG GIRL by Jennifer Dugan; that general style + palette is a trend right now) and the concept of the line across and the girl coming into full color is a clever little representation of the coming-of-age story elements.

7) HOUSE OF SALT AND SORROWS by Erin Craig

I really! WANT! To like this cover! I think the layout and rendering of the text and the various nautical effects are sophisticated and pretty! HOWEVER COMMA! It’s just so low-contrast. This entire cover has the same single gray-green color and [lack of] depth; it’s like an intricately detailed dining room table. Nothing, not even the text, stands out immediately, so your eye wanders looking for a focal point; the title is readable, but not.... amazingly so. Kind of an unfortunate misfire despite having some of the most thoughtfully designed ~ fantasy ~ text I’ve seen in a while.

8) WE RULE THE NIGHT by Claire Eliza Bartlett

This is, quite obviously, another Billelis creation, so we’re back to talking about the various foibles and failings of art directors trying to integrate type with his illustrations. And this one. uH. IT’S ROUGH, although the bigger question here is why that gorgeous, intricately rendered phoenix (?) isn’t centered on the damn cover. (neither is the.... fortress? on the bottom.) It’s so symmetrical that it’s clearly meant to be! Perfect centering and a tighter crop would have done a lot towards offsetting...... whatever is happening with the type, which feels VERY awkward. I do think the sort of ~random placement of words could work with a little more thought but into it, but as it is. Woof. It’s cohesive enough that I still feel okay about it as a cover overall, but some sTRANGE choices happened there.

Also, having looked this up, it’s actually dieselpunk? IE vaguely fantasy WWII? And as with our last vaguely fantasy WWII book (RIP Dark of the West’s OG cover) that is..... not being expressed. Here, I would say that a different typeface, one that feels more militaristic/ modern as opposed to ~ high fantasy ~ might have been the play.

MORE 2 COME

#bookcoversalt #bloodleaf #four deaad queens #again but better #the fever king #billelis

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fanfictalk · 6 years ago

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Hufflepuff Story Updates

The Badgers have been hard at work posting new stories and chapters to the archive! Below is a list of stories that have been updated!

Imperio to Kittens by aelaia

Yaxley had always considered himself lucky to be where he was in the Ministry. Gaining the position of Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement wasn’t easy, nor was succeeding in placing the Imperius curse upon the Minister himself. He loved his job and position in life but all is about to change when falling asleep places him in someone else... that someone being Dolores Umbridge.

The Skull Beneath the Skin (M) by esmeraude

Fifth year’s barely over, but the future is all everyone wants to talk about. Regulus is determined to outshine his brother. Walden’s planning a marriage that’ll never happen. Tibs wants to be a politician. Becoming the next Bellatrix Lestrange is my goal, and the only one that seems achievable. Yet with the Death Eaters falling like flies, the future looks bleaker than ever. In five years’ time, we’re all going to be dead.

Shards of A Badger's Heart by HufflepuffBookworm1990 (@littlebitofheavenwithawildside90)

Fifth year at Hogwarts is hard. Everyone knows that. There are OWLs to sit, first crushes to experience and younger siblings to keep an eye out for. For Abby Albright, things become much more complicated than that, when her parents are killed in a car crash and she has to adjust to a full Muggle lifestyle overnight. Fortunately, she has her doting sister April, and an adorable little brother, Jason to keep her company. And, surprisingly, Lee Jordan too? Abby doesn't know what's coming, but it's going to be nothing like any of her previous years. So much is uncertain.

Her Sister's Future by Phoenix Potioneer

Eliza witnesses something extraordinary.

A Collection of Fortuitous and Serendipitous Events by WriteYourHeartOut

Do you determine your fate, or does fate determine you?

A Boy Called Blunder by magpie

Edmund “Blunder” Blundell has a crush on James Potter...and James Potter?Rejected Twin, Quidditch Towel Boy, and quite possibly the Worst Potions Student Ever, Edmund escapes the daily humilities of his life through his sketchbook. But when a drawing of James Sirius Potter (who is Most Definitely Not His Crush) falls into a potion and conjures a clone of him, things get double complicated.

The Shopping List by esmeraude

The shopping list pinned to the kitchen door of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, reveals far more about the Potter children than their parents would like you to know.

Albus Potter and the Chosen Four by Phoenix Potioneer

Albus Potter begins his second year at Hogwarts, where he and his friends, Rose Weasley, David Haid, and Art Gambeski, shuffle through newspapers and read information on a mysterious new type of dementor. It seems to be moving north... but why would it want to come to England?

A Latte Love (M) by sihaya

Albus needs coffee to get through his gruelling days of healer training. It's only an added bonus that the coffee is served by a very cute Scorpius Malfoy.

The Life and Lies of Albus Potter by esmeraude

As the recent scandal surrounding the Boy-Who-Lived’s middle child sparks unprecedented interest from the public, Rita Skeeter has named Albus Potter as the star of the latest instalment in her ‘Life and Lies’ series, set to be released on 31st March, 2022. The Daily Prophet Press are expecting the most sensational bestseller of the century, as Skeeter digs into the secrets of the anti-social Potter and his best friends: a juvenile delinquent, a Quidditch star, a heartbreaker, and a genius. Prepare for an exposé that will answer the questions on everyone’s lips: How did a boy like Albus end up in Hufflepuff? Why do the Potters work so hard to keep him out of the limelight? And who is the mysterious stranger he was seen kissing on New Year’s Eve?

19 Years (M) by marauder5

What happened during the nineteen years we never got to see, between the Battle of Hogwarts and the epilogue? Follow along the story of how our golden trio recovers from the war and rebuilds the lives they fought so hard for.

Miscellaneous One Shots/Drabbles by Dojh167

Various things I've written (mostly for House Cup events) that I don't want otherwise clogging up my AP

Burn Scars and Open Hearts (M) by HufflepuffBookworm1990 (@littlebitofheavenwithawildside90)

Felicity Kowalski has finally returned home to England. Her time spent teaching at Ilvermorny definitely taught her a few lessons of her own. How will her family cope with what she's brought home with her, especially once a certain red-headed dragonologist re-enters the scene?

The Art of Surviving by esmeraude

When survival comes at a cost, the safest place to hide is behind enemy lines. Once a tight-knit group of friends, ten Hufflepuffs are now divided by the Dark Lord's rise to power and the mortal peril they face. Like a stick of Blackpool rock, loyalty is at their very core – until treachery becomes the price for staying alive.

#sirius black/oc #lee jordan #regulus black #sirius black #Albus Severus Potter #albus potter #james potter #james sirius potter #lily potter #scorpius and albus #albus x scorpius #scorbus

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the-magnus-archives-archiver · 6 years ago

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Piecemeal

Case: 0112905

Name: Lee Rentoul Subject: Murder of his associate Paul Noriega Date: May 29th, 2011 Recorded by: Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London

Let’s get one thing straight right off – this is not a goddamn confession, alright? If you go to the police with this, I will deny every word, and I know enough about the law to know that even if I spill my guts to you about all the horrible things I’ve done, it will count for nothing in court. It’s not like you’ll even be able to help me, I just... My mate Hester said he came to you a few years back, been seeing ghosts and that, and you guys looked into it and told him it was some sort of noise messing with his head, ‘infasound’ or something, and he’s fine now. I need that. I need you to tell me that it’s just coincidence and my mind’s playing tricks, and I need to not lose any more bits of me.

So yeah, I killed that asshole Noriega. Stabbed him in the throat and left him to bleed out on the dockside. Maybe that shocks you a bit, maybe not, but trust me when I say he had it coming. Eight years we worked together, and it was him that got carried away kicking McMullen’s head in and moved it from assault to GBH, but sure enough when we get picked up he turns on me and I get pinned for it. Five years I served because of him, while he walked free as you please. I’d say that I was due a bit of payback and I certainly got it.

It wasn’t my first choice, though. I’m not stupid and parole keeps you on a short enough chain that slitting Noriega’s throat was not my top priority. Don’t get me wrong, it was something I’d been itching to do for five goddamn years, but I wasn’t in a rush. I had plenty of time to arrange something nasty for him, and I wanted him hurt more than I felt I had to do the deed myself. So when I got out in June last year, I bided my time and kept my ear to the ground. Tried to get in touch with him, but was told by the few friends we had in common that he wasn’t interested in talking to me. He’d clearly done ok for himself in the years I’d been away, and could afford some muscle to make sure that I didn’t bother him. I ended up with a couple of bruised ribs when I finally got tired of the run-around and tried to have it out with him properly. It was laying there, some grim side street in Lewisham of all places that I came to the decision that if I was going to hurt this asshole, and I mean properly hurt him, I was going to have to think outside the box a bit.

I decided to pay McMullen a visit. Before Noriega had gone to work on him, Toby McMullen was just some street punk. These days he was just a street punk who had trouble turning his neck. I’ve met plenty of born losers in my time, I mean it’s kind of a given in this business, but I’ve never met someone so intent on being a screw-up as McMullen. When I saw him he was high as a kite and barely knew I was there, but you bet his eyes lit up when I mentioned Paul Noriega. It took hours to get anything useful out of that waste of skin, but eventually I pieced together his side of this sorry tale. Noriega had paid him a visit in the hospital, apparently, before the police had picked us up, and promised that if he fingered me for the assault, then he’d have all of the narcotics his little junkie heart could dream of. Only once he was out of hospital and my conviction had gone through, it wasn’t two days before McMullen was out on his arse again, and Noriega didn’t want to know. Any idiot could have seen it would play out that way, but not poor, stupid Toby. Still, he’d been itching to get the knife in for almost as long as I had, and he had had the freedom to plan it, so I asked him if he had anything I could use.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when he suggested magic. Toby had always been into all of that mystical crap, even before the drugs, and if there was some half-baked New Age fad going round you could bet you’d find it dribbling out of his mouth whenever he was coherent enough to actually talk. I punched him in the gut and turned to leave. He followed me, doubled over and struggling for breath, begging me to help him. He said he was serious, said it wasn’t like the other stuff, said he knew someone with real power, who could put the hurt on Noriega, but he just didn’t have the money.

I should have kept walking. I should have shaken him off. I should have beat him so bad he couldn’t turn his neck the other way either. But I didn’t. I stopped and I listened to what that piece of human garbage had to say. I was an idiot.

So Toby took me to see his friend Angela. He never gave me her second name. I asked him what it was: Wicca, voodoo, some crystal bull? But Toby said no, nothing like that. Said he didn’t really know how it was supposed to work, but had a girl a few months back, had told him about Angela; said she’d used her services on a particularly unpleasant ex-boyfriend. Apparently he’d disappeared, and they never found a body. So then I’m thinking maybe there’s no magic there, just a killer with a schtick, but hey, if that was the case it was fine by me, just as long as Noriega got done.

When I finally met Angela, it was all I could do not to cave McMullen’s head in. I’d just about convinced myself I was going to be meeting with a hardened killer, maybe one that kept a bunch of spooky Halloween crap around, but still someone who’d get the job done. I wasn’t even put off when we pulled up to a well-kept suburban house in Bexley. But when the door was answered by an old lady in a lilac dressing gown, I almost lost it. McMullen asked if she was Angela, speaking in a quiet voice like he was actually scared of the geriatric fool. The old woman said yes, she was Angela, and asked us to come in.

The house felt almost as old as its owner – faded floral print wallpaper, dark oak furniture and threadbare carpets. The walls were covered with framed portraits, the sort you’d get in any cheap antique store or charity shop, although as we went into the living room I noticed something that I didn’t expect: they weren’t paintings, they were jigsaw puzzles, each completed and framed. And sure enough when we sat down on the worn cloth sofa, there in front of Angela was another jigsaw, half- finished. I’ve got no problem with the elderly, and if they want to throw away their last years putting together a damn picture then I’m sure not going to stop them, but it wasn’t exactly going to kill Noriega, was it?

I was so angry at this massive waste of my time, that when she offered us a cup of coffee, I almost put McMullen face-first through the glass table in front of us. I grunted something which Angela apparently took as a “yes please”, and so a few minutes later there I was drinking instant coffee from a chipped mug that this doddering old ass clearly hadn’t thought to wipe the dust off of. When she asked if I wanted Paul Noriega dead, I nearly choked.

She asked it very matter-of-factly, like it was a question on some form she knew the answer to but had to fill it in anyway. I glanced at Toby, who nodded at me, and I thought what the hell, I might as well play along. So I said yes. Yes, I did want him dead. And more than that, I wanted him to suffer. Angela smiled when I said that, a warm smile that suited her round face, and said that that wouldn’t be a problem. I started to explain the situation, but she waved it away and told me that Toby had filled her in on all the details, and that there was just one thing she needed from me, that he couldn’t provide. I started to tell her that I wasn’t paying for someone’s gran to take out a hard case like Noriega, but she said no, she wasn’t after money. She said that she was “well-compensated” for the service she provided and that all she needed from me was an object, anything that I had taken from Noriega. Not a gift, she said, staring into my eyes with a look that I recognised from years of working with very unpleasant people. It wouldn’t work if it was a gift.

At this point I was starting to feel uneasy. Not scared, alright, I wasn’t scared of this old woman, but being around her was... bad. I don’t know how else to say it, she was bad. You’ve got to understand, I know dangerous, I understand dangerous, hell, I am dangerous. This was something else. But I wanted Paul Noriega dead so badly. Five years ago, just before we’d been picked up by the police I’d borrowed his lighter. It was a battered old Zippo, used to have a picture of a topless woman on it, but now that was almost worn away. After he turned on me in questioning, I didn’t feel much like returning it to the treacherous backstabber, so I held on to it. I hadn’t thought much of it, but here it was, still in the pocket of my jacket, all those years later. I handed it to Angela, and she gave me that look again, and told me that it would work just fine.

And then we left. Angela told us not to worry about it, that Paul Noriega wasn’t going to be bothering us for much longer; we just had to wait until she was finished. Finished with what exactly, she didn’t say, she didn’t need to. We knew whatever it was we were probably better off not knowing.

The waiting came hard, though. After he’d had me roughed up, it seemed like Noriega had decided I wasn’t worth worrying about. I’d see him walking those streets like he owned them, his pair of leg- breakers in tow, and I knew there was nothing that I could do about it. He knew it too. So I waited. And I waited. I waited for the shot, or the knife, or the poison or the... whatever would end him for good. It never came. Days turned into weeks and there he still was, as cocksure as ever.

I was patient. God, I was patient, but after three weeks I had almost written off that useless old bag as a time-wasting con job. I was going to give her one more week, just one, but then something came up that I couldn’t ignore. Word came down that Noriega was meeting someone at the docks, some fence by the name of Salesa. The man dealt mainly in stolen art and curios, valuable stuff, and was paranoid as hell, which meant Noriega was going to be there alone. It might have been a trap, sure, but I’d been sitting on my ass waiting for him to magically drop dead for so long that if there was even a chance it was on the level, I had to take it.

Turns out it was true, and went off smoother than I could have hoped for. I found the warehouse a few hours before the meet, and staked out a good spot. Then I waited. Salesa turned up first, a big Samoan guy with close-cropped hair, flanked by four men in dark suits, who carried a square wooden crate between them. They went into the warehouse, and sure enough five minutes later there he is, that snake. He was alone, and seemed to be limping slightly. He headed inside through the same door, leaving it unlocked. Perfect. There was no point me going in yet. I wasn’t keen to get my head kicked in by Salesa’s goons, so I just watched, my hand gripping the hilt of the combat knife I’d bought at an army surplus store I know is happy to sell off-the-books.

It was almost an hour later that Salesa and his men left, still carrying that box. They didn’t look happy, but I could have given a damn. As soon as they were round the corner I headed inside, as quietly as I could, and there he was, leaning up against a pile bricks, smoking. I started to move towards him, but as I got near he must have heard me, and turned around. He started to say something about reconsidering, and lowering the price, when he realised I was not Salesa. Then a look passed over the face of Paul Noriega that I will treasure forever. No matter what happens to me, the memory of that look of panicked terror will stay with me.

He turned to run, but whatever was wrong with his leg meant he tripped over the bricks instead. I grabbed him by the collar, my knife already out, and dragged him up. I had always been the stronger of the two of us, and he knew he couldn’t fight me. Holding up his hand, he begged me to wait, to listen. I noticed that his hand was missing a couple of fingers, old wounds that had long healed over, though I didn’t remember seeing them before. It didn’t matter; I could hear the blood pumping in my head and nothing was going to stop me taking my revenge. He begged for mercy, as I plunged the knife into him once, twice, three times. Again and again and again I stabbed that backstabber until, finally, I him let him fall. He landed on the floor hard, dead weight, his head making a thick, cracking sound as it hit the bricks, and blood began to pool on the floor around his body.

As the rage started to fade and my breathing returned to normal, I took a second to look over poor dead Paul Noriega, and saw something seemed to have been knocked loose when his head hit the bricks. Picking it up, I saw it was a glass eye. I looked back at the corpse, and sure enough there was a gaping hole where his left eye should have been. When had that happened? He certainly had both eyes when we had worked together and all ten fingers as well. He’d also had all his teeth, where now I saw gaps all over that dead, smiling face. I shivered, though I don’t know why.

I won’t go into detail about how I went about disposing of the body. Just trust me when I say that even if the cops did find any piece of Noriega’s corpse, they wouldn’t be able to pin it on me. And life went on. His boys did come looking for me when their boss didn’t return, but I knew to lay low for a while, and soon enough they realised that if he was gone, they weren’t getting paid either way and moved on. And so I had my revenge, and that should have been the end of the story. But it wasn’t.

It was five days after I killed Noriega that I found the first package. I was on Tottenham Marshes, near the reservoir, on business you don’t need to know, and I came to a metal bridge over one of the streams there. Now this wasn’t a place I went often, and I don’t think I’d ever crossed that bridge before in my life, but there, lying in the centre of it, was a small box. It was wrapped in brown paper and string, like an old-fashioned Christmas present, and had my name printed on it in clear letters: LEE RENTOUL, FOR IMMEDIATE CONSIDERATION.

Obviously I was a little bit freaked out at this but not as freaked out as when I opened it. Inside, lying was a black cardboard box, full of cotton wool and a single severed finger. It was obviously some sort of threat; some punk reckoned they could put a scare on me. No chance. I threw the finger into one of the canals and set the box on fire before throwing it in a bin. I headed home quickly, keeping my attention all around me and my hand on my knife. I was so busy looking behind me, I didn’t see the hole in front of me, and I tripped. As I fell forward, I felt a hot pain in the hand that had been on my knife. You guessed it. Falling had caused the blade to slice clean through my little finger.

I’m not too proud to admit that I screamed at this. I tore up my shirt, trying to make a bandage to stop the bleeding, at least until I could get to a hospital. But as I began to wrap it up, I noticed that it wasn’t actually bleeding. The wound was closed. It had healed, like it had happened years ago. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what to do. So I just went home. I wasn’t getting my finger back, so I figured I could try to deal with it after a decent night’s sleep.

There was another box at my flat. Same as before. This one contained two toes. I tried to ignore it and keep my foot well away from any knives, but... I was trying to adjust the settings on my flatscreen when it fell off the wall. Hit my right foot and, well, have you figured it out yet? That was two weeks ago. Since then, I lost four more fingers to accidents, most of my toes, this eye I managed to put out on a goddamn fencepost. I’ve lost count of the number of teeth gone, and believe me when I say that you don’t want to know how I lost the hand. Each time, a box wrapped in brown paper: LEE RENTOUL, FOR IMMEDIATE CONSIDERATION.

I’ve tried everything. Once I thought I managed to outsmart it. Spent the day in my bedroom – nothing sharp, no edges. I’d taken out everything except the mattress. It didn’t matter, I woke the next morning with an agony in my foot far sharper than any knife could cut, and the big toe missing, just like the one I’d received the morning before.

I knew it was Angela. Of course I did, I’m not thick. Whatever curse she’d laid on Noriega must have passed to me. I went over there, you know. Went to confront that old... and you know what happened? She let me in. She was, nice, civil. Offered me another cup of coffee! I told her where to stick it. Demanded, asked, begged her to stop whatever was happening to me. You know what she did? She shrugged. She just shrugged! Told me that “Some hungers are too strong to be denied”, whatever the hell that means. So I went for her. I was going to strangle the life out of that curse-flinging bag of bones. But as I reached for her, I... I don’t know. I don’t know what happened. I know that that’s how I lost the hand. I know I chewed it off.

Look it doesn’t matter. I just need your help. I need this to stop. I don’t know how, but this is your area, right? This is what you do. You look into this weird ghost crap, right? Well this is the definition of weird ghost crap, and I need you to help me. I need you to save me from whatever is happening.

I don’t have much time. I got a box this morning, a few hours before I came here. It was a tongue.

Archivist Notes:

It doesn’t look like this case was ever properly followed up. According to the supplementary notes, shortly after making his statement, Mr. Rentoul became violent towards Institute staff and in the ensuing incident there was... an accident. No details are given, but it apparently required Mr. Rentoul’s hospitalisation. I’m reminded of a somewhat tasteless joke about loose tongues. He did not return to the Institute afterwards, and his statement was archived. According to the arrest records Sasha uncovered, Mr. Rentoul was telling the truth about the somewhat chequered past of himself and his associate Paul Noriega, with extensive files on both of them. The last listed interaction between the police and Mr. Noriega is two months before Mr. Rentoul’s statement, and since then no sign can be found of him in police records, or indeed anywhere else.

I sent Martin to look into this ‘Angela’ character, not that I want him to get chopped up, of course, but someone had to. Apparently he spent three days looking into every woman named Angela in Bexley over the age of 50. He could not find anyone that matches the admittedly vague description given here, though he informs me that he had some very pleasant chats about jigsaws. Useless ass.

Tim has done his best to try and hunt down Mr. Rentoul and see if we can contact him for a follow-up interview or evaluation, but it looks like he disappeared shortly after making this statement. We were able to find his old landlord, though, who said that Mr. Rentoul vanished in early April of 2011, leaving many unpaid bills and no forwarding address. He said that when he had gone to clear out the flat, he had been surprised to find there was no furniture left. All that remained in the house, he said, were hundreds and hundreds of small cardboard boxes.

Source: Official Transcript and Podcast (MAG 14 Piecemeal)

#the magnus archives #magnus archives #MAG #MAG14 #MAG 14 #Piecemeal #Statement #The Flesh

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floggingink · 7 years ago

Text

Riverdale: “Chapter Thirteen: The Sweet Hereafter”

six seconds in, we’re hit with the pun “cliffhanger,” which meant I had to pause the recording immediately after it began and brew a very strong tea

“Life’s not an Agatha Christie novel,” Jughead mumbles, reminding himself, standing in line at Stumptown for Betty’s latte

Jason “I’ll Sell These Drugs But Not These Drugs” Blossom, killed for his moral relativism

is there quite a business for heroin in Montreal? is Montreal the hub of heroin in Canada, the Philly of Canada? I tell you, I have heard more mentionings of Montreal on Riverdale than I have my entire life before it (what I’m calling “Phase One” of my life, or maybe “B.R.”)

where did the Hiram Lodge leather satchel come from to be planted at Mustang’s? didn’t Hermione give one stuffed full of cash to the Mayor?

what, if anything, did Clifford think of Jughead Jones, to spew at FP while threatening his life? (write this fic for me)

FP tossing his Sabrina comic to the side becomes Pop sliding Jughead’s coffee across the counter: LEE TOLAND KRIEGER. this is going to be one of THOSE episodes

is Jughead’s dream to be a sort of Alice, drinking coffee and writing his scoop in a real newspaper office?

“75 MORE YEARS OF PEP!”

“last vestiges of corruption crushed”—ma’am, you took a BRIBE

can we get FP some new clothes in there, in holding? maybe a DVD player? is there so little other crime in Riverdale that FP has been free to lounge in solitary relaxation there for days?

I don’t know why Jughead was allowed to sit in on the meeting between FP and Sheriff Keller, but it means he gets to lounge against a wall in the blue prison lighting without himself being detained, which is always welcome

the Serpents only deal in “dime bags of weed,” so whatever else they do to be a Scary Gang is up in the air, menacing public spaces

FP is SO COOL AND COLLECTED in the face of a 20-years-to-life threat, truly an inspiration for those in tight corners with authority: smirk at your legs, chin pointed down, show off your cheekbones, reveal nothing

not enough column inches devoted to Archie’s waistline. while not the coveted martini glass Chuck Clayton sported, Archie’s waistline is instead a gently tapered pilsner glass, deceptive in its easy concealment under a heavy letterman jacket or zipped-up hoodie, until, draped only in a grey T-shirt, it shows its full force and effect

(Jughead is a hand-blown lead crystal sommeliers champagne flute, designed with a thin rim to heighten the effect of the bubbles on the nose)

you know LEE TOLAND KRIEGER has Fred Andrews brooding in the steamy sunbeams of his kitchen window!

there’s a rose gold French press and a porcelain green tea kettle on the counter behind him

Maturing Friend points to Archie for acknowledging that his “dealing” is different from Jughead, Betty, and Veronica still being in the thick of it

I’d give $30 to know what huge book Veronica is reading

“He’s your father, not the Godfather”: Godfather reference #1

Betty is unbelievably self-possessed at the breakfast table that she looks that calm while ripping up her palm

difference between telling Jughead your problems and telling Archie your problems: Betty’s like, My family’s acting happy, and Archie’s like, That’s great, babe!

Archie laughs at Betty’s “Greek suburban tragedy,” which she gives him a look for, but this is just what Archie has been conditioned to do. he doesn’t totally understand everything, so he’s learned to just laugh gamely

Archie doesn’t understand Veronica’s “pas de deux”

Mayor McCoy is doing some frantic PR, looping Archie and Betty into the Jubilee

“What about Jughead?” GOD I LOVE THIS ARCHIE

Mayor McCoy “likes” Jughead. will we ever learn how Jug wrangled his way into a meeting with her about the drive-in?

along with baby showers and birthday parties, jubilees aren’t Jughead’s “thing”

Jughead doubts it: “Kevin, relax. This isn’t The Wire.” Jughead is doubtlessly one of those people who think The Wire is the greatest TV show ever made (which it is), and I want to say he might also be one of those people who sits down their SO and makes them watch it from beginning to end (which he should)

throughout this incredible West Wing circle-around of Sad Breakfast Club eating lunch, Kevin tersely bounces an orange on his tray, Veronica has a salad, Betty has assorted fruit, Jughead has a sandwich, Archie appears to be drinking apple juice (MY MAN)

Veronica, and this happened, stood up to deliver the news about her and Archie. it’s because she knows how important it is!

Archie, mouthing: Don’t. No. No. No. No. What’re you doing.

Please protect Betty: Betty’s like, And this is coming from me, I’m telling you to relax.

“Instead he was buried like a pauper.” I’m picturing the burial in Amadeus, where Mozart’s body is dumped out of a reusable coffin into a heap of bodybags, blessed in the rain by the priest on duty, dusted with lime, and walked away from, already forgotten

“Why are you crying? You hated him.” I really have difficulty conceptualizing or putting into words the particular scariness of Penelope Blossom, like the quiet venom things she does, the way she sneers and her subzero motionless rage stewing, like how she was staring into the fireplace last episode? DAMN. Penelope Blossom is like an 80’s psychological thriller villain transplanted into a 2010’s teen soap, and she begat Riverdale’s greatest thematic creation, Cheryl Blossom, who lives her life as if every moment is the dramatic bombshell scene before cutting to commercial

Penelope...just...unambiguously endorses hanging yourself instead of “this awful limbo,” “living,” “being alive,” “reality”

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: Archie double-checking with Betty is sweet, Betty stopping Archie before he gets started on his “But I always thought…” is ESSENTIAL

he’s still thinking about it! COME ON ARCHIE. his little yeeaahhhh... microexpression

the 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: Josie: Oh...we’re not going to sing it. Oh, did you think we were going to sing it?

I will give Hal Cooper credit for smiling proudly at Betty while her mom compliments her article

but ONLY FOR THAT

Betty’s heavily structured trench coat is righteous

Cheryl “abdicates” as the Vixens’ “directoress,” like she’s the tsar

she could be, with that choker!

“I’ve shed my tears for the Blossom men.” and now she’s in grim business mode, sooooo

Betty wasn’t allowed to publish in her mother’s newspaper so she published in her own damn newspaper

thank you Veronica for telling me how to pronounce “Bechdel”

“Swear on the September issue?” “And on my copy of Forever by Judy Blume.”

Fred Andrews had a fast, serious talk with the social worker: “You gotta call him ‘Jughead.’ I know his name is Forsythe. You gotta call him Jughead or he’s not going anywhere with you.”

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Archie and Jughead coming back from doing who knows what together, Archie tosses his jacket onto the staircase, Jug is like, NICE

this is a new jacket from Jug! the boy loves a fleece lining!

Certified pedigree: Fred is juuuust on this side of too poor and sad to be able to house Jughead

Jughead’s “It doesn’t sound completely horrible” is a radical concession from him, perhaps has been waiting for this moment for months, for Children’s Services to catch up to him

Archie runs to FP to save Jughead. is there a revolving door to FP’s cellblock?

“It tears me up, red, but the Serpents are my tribe.”

FP calls his son “scrappy, a survivor,” which is what everyone wants their father to know for a fact about them

“He’ll try and pull away inside himself. . . He’s got some darkness in him.” he will! he does! cut to: the burger

a one-on-one Jughead and Veronica scene? I’ve not only already signed up, I’m standing at the entrance with a clipboard waving down passersby on the street for more signatures

“You and I have a lot in common”: Jughead goes straight for the superficial prison thing, and Veronica counters with the superficial dating-the-best-friends ergo thrown-into-each-other’s-company thing, but what else could we mention here? fixation on “truth”? fixation on outer appearance as social armor? fixation on father’s legacy as relates to nature-versus-nurture destiny of self? fixation on Betty Cooper as a means to salvation? so many options

I would appreciate an explanation for why sometimes Jughead has lunch with the rest of the gang and sometimes he’s not there. and now he’s at lunch and no one else is there with him except Veronica. do high schools have two lunches now? is one like an extended breakfast before homeroom, or a free period? what different electives do they have that their schedules are slightly different? for instance Archie still presumably has his MUSIC THEORY

Cheryl’s pins: blue cherry pin on her soft cornflower blue wrap top

it’s validating to know Cheryl considers her Bakelite spider pin to be as fantastic as I do

also I love the word “recompense,” so Cheryl is skyrocketing

Veronica recognizes this, the second instance of Cheryl giving away a treasured possession, as the red flag it is (plus making amends!), while Jughead, NOTABLY, pockets the pin as advised

the hanged Betty doll strung up on her locker with twine is like something Nikolaj Coster-Waldau’s nieces would have played with out in the woods in Mama

the phrase “Go to hell, Serpent slut” is so, SUCH a mix of high and low art, the plebeian and proletarian, “GO TO HELL” is so bourgeois and chill and indignant and after that they still have enough pig’s blood to call her a slut, which is like SO trashy Draco Malfoy?

what is FP Jones innocent OF in Betty’s article? he’s not being charged WITH murder, and he IS guilty of some murder-adjacent villainy, so I assume Betty’s article is more about his character assassination

Betty’s already in the dazed later stages of absorbing and/or filing this under “emotionally deal with later,” Polly is about to cry

Jughead, who watches Carrie every Wednesday, is always ready to tell Betty the ugly truth, the viscera of the truth

BUT he like whispers it as she, SLIGHTLY in denial to herself while knowing she’s slightly in denial, attempts to tear it down and he’s like mmmmmmmm standing in front of it to redirect her attention and he GETS HER OUT OF THERE, he’s like Agent Toscano in the back kitchens at Georgetown with Zoey

Archie doesn’t know where you could get pig’s blood and this ENRAGES HIM

Betty and Jughead appear to be strolling home together through a graveyard, because Betty and Jughead

Jughead is so coded as an outsider that I’m afraid for his peace of mind once he relocates to his southside pied-à-terre and feels like he’s among kith and kin. the multiverse indeed

there have never been two people more devoted to touching each other’s faces, with the possible exception of Bella and Edward in Dan Bergstein’s Blogging Twilight, than Betty and Jughead. their heaven would be a night at the Ritz-Carlton by Central Park, eating three-egg omelettes and scrubbing each other with Lush face masks. Betty is Rosy Cheeks, Jughead is Cup o’ Coffee

Betty doesn’t let Jughead “Sure babe” his way out of resolving their conversation

plus then he gazes at her like she is the only source of light in his life

Veronica was rich: Hiram Lodge is partial to black orchids? did Hermione get it from the Blossoms’ ORCHID ROOM?

These students are legally children: “Sure, mom, I’ll just sexually manipulate Archie into doing my bidding.” “As long as you’re in control.” WHOA!

Hermione, to be clear, as gone full dark side, while not bitterly sanctioning suicide in front of her emotionally shattered daughter but in a fallen-1%, Madame du Barry sort of way

I like how the show is setting up Hiram Lodge as a scary cloak of paternal/paternalistic/patriarchal malevolence, wherein at the beginning of the series Hermione was at least fronting to distance herself from Hiram’s name and influence and history, and now that he’s “coming back,” she is getting ready for his return left and right through her turning away from Town Upright Fred Andrews, her business loyalties, her aesthetic choices, and her hypothetical manipulation of, of all people, Archie

Betty could run the Iditarod in that trench coat

my man LEE TOLAND KRIEGER coming in with Alice Cooper and the reflection of Alice Cooper flanking Betty while they fight in the kitchen!

“It’s so hard, Mommy. Pretending every—” “I. Don’t. Care.” there has never BEEN a daytime soap, Lifetime Original, Ryan Murphy production, or Sharon Stone exploitation period piece as GOOD as the scenes between Cheryl and Penelope

Cheryl is wearing this drapey see-through black lingerie robe while she dashes around her haunted mansion like sexy Bertha Antoinetta Mason

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: you know shit is about to get a confessional when Alice walks into Betty’s room with no eye makeup on and a cardigan that covers her hands

“I have a secret brother out there in the world.” for half a second, I was terrified, in a fabulous lurid way, that the secret brother was Jughead, because I would not put that past Riverdale, before, you know, he’s gotta be like ten years older than Betty

but I mean, he’s got to be FP’s child. right? like—RIGHT?

Fifth period is AP English: “Positively Dickensian.” does Archie know Dickens? surely he knows CHARLES DICKENS

“A blond Adonis, no doubt.” or a sloe-eyed greaser with a DEEP VOICE and Alice’s cheekbones???

WITNESS ME: it is at this point, 21 minutes in, that Ep. 13 starts moving at 10,000 mph

“GO TO THE DARK SIDE”!!!!! like Southside High is MOS EISLEY

the music in the background picking up like some shit is about to happen, like they’re about to BREAK HIM OUT OF PRISON!!!!

What damn high school in America: our boy LEE TOLAND KRIEGER INDEED had Archie, Betty, and Veronica do the Breakfast Club hallway slide, because—BECAUSE WHY NOT! why not just LEAVE SCHOOL to go to a different school to get your friend out of school!

Veronica is in like a black sable stole, because SHE IS!

it is impossible to see what book Jughead is reading, and this haunts me!

Gay.: this is our first viewing of SOUTHSIDE TEEN, taking one of Jughead’s fries, wearing a very conservative white tee and blue jean jacket with a simple side part/2-setting shave down haircut!

honestly Southside High looks fantastic for Jughead in the sense that everyone is wearing a flannel and everyone’s hair is rebelliously long or styled archaically

Cheryl’s sheaths: local hero LEE TOLAND KRIEGER has those white-cold sunbeams coming down over the back of Cheryl’s Gothic grand duchess bed as she lays out her Jason dress!

“Where would he be?” “...cafeteria.”

if you look, there is literally just a female Jughead sitting on the table to Jughead’s right, she’s in black skinny jeans, black Chuck hightops, a DARK BLUE JEAN JACKET WITH A FLEECE COLLAR, and a soft stretchy beanie! she is right, like, hit me up! I cook!

it’s been one afternoon and already Jughead has more friends at Southside High than he had the entirety of his life in the northside school system

Betty, Archie, and Veronica just reaching the table with Jughead surrounded by ne’er-do-wells about to beat him up but it turns out Jughead is merely the beloved communal focal point IS the scene in Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes when Jude Law’s Watson shows up at the prison and makes his way through the circle of Victorian roughs about to massacre Robert Downey, Jr., just as Holmes delivers the punchline to a ribald joke to the delight of the motley ruffians and it turns out he’s basically their king

Jughead is technically like Serpent royalty, so it makes sense all these Slytherins would at least make the gesture to seek him out and adore him

awww, Betty Cooper embodying the north side, Jughead embodying the south side, hugging each other, nothing shall tear them asunder, YET

Jughead says something to make her laugh while Archie and Veronica look on

it might not be a stole. it might be the collar of her jacket. is that her Homecoming jacket? I wouldn’t put it past her to have a black sable stole

Veronica getting Cheryl’s text and being like, “We have to go!” is literally the third or fourth time THIS EPISODE someone has been like, “WE HAVE TO GO!”

I could not believe we were actually getting a scene with these guys running through THE FOREST to stop CHERYL BLOSSOM from KILLING HERSELF—just—pause to reflect???

first there’s some sort of bonkers Titanic ice splintering under their feet

and Cheryl is beating her way through the ice with her hands and the power of grief? like—my god. Emily Brontë is like, He’s dead, girl, let it go

Summer + Blair = Veronica: Veronica is truly, as she has been in the past, embodying her true self, with is to reach out with her haughty, beautiful, self-aware, compulsive love and connect with everyone she sees: “WE’LL FIGURE THIS OUT TOGETHER OKAY.”

Cheryl is of course in her all-white mourning dress, her hair down, her spidery mascara, her lips turning purple, bathed in the BLUE FILTER OF HORROR as she sinks into the ice, the ice claims her like the blood sacrifice it demands each year to keep the maple syrup flowing

Archie barrels across the frozen river like a ginger Balto

pretty sick underwater shot looking up at Archie from below the ice!!!!

remember when Veronica told him to be careful with that hand, that his hand was going to be worth millions someday and he needed to be gentle with it during football or he couldn’t play guitar, and now he’s punching through a frozen river? ARCHIE?

the Blossom corpse: okay…..okay…..Cheryl seeing Jason’s corpse reach out to take her like Frodo being dragged underwater by the ghosts of the soldiers claimed by the Dead Marshes

the bloody juice milkshake on top of the water as Archie finally beats his way through by the power of his ripped bod

Archie > Dawson: you know Archie knows CPR!!! how delicately he pinches Cheryl’s nose shut!

however cold Cheryl was upon being thrust into the winter air as Archie & the Gang brought her to A HOSPITAL was not half as cold as Hermione regarding her in front of the fireplace and saying, “What is she doing here?”

Betty starting to cry immediately after putting on mascara is real-life drama

Archie, bullheadedly warming up to perform with his hand in a cast after he saved someone’s life, doesn’t know the word “wistfully,” and I think this encapsulates everything great about Archie Andrews

again, again, AGAIN, I want to JUST POINT OUT that Veronica-noticing-Archie staring “longingly” at Betty-plus-Jughead and wondering if this meant Archie secretly liked Betty is a plot point that would have been stretched out over the course of at least one entire episode, if not the undercurrent of an entire relationship arc of a season, on a lesser teen show, AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN, but Riverdale does not have time! we have to get everyone to the scene where Reggie is threatening to run Principal Weatherbee through with an epee on top of Veronica’s apartment building by the end of the episode!

for the Jubilee performance, Melanie has a shiny white skirt and big hoop earrings, Valerie is in some sort of phenomenal Sgt. Pepper blazer, and Josie is in a studded bustier

the drinking game of listening to Mayor McCoy’s speeches for the phrase “my daughter Josie and her Pussycats”

Jughead and FP have what might be their healthiest, most productive conversation in years on either side of the prison bars

Archie, clearly having the time of his life performing his song, strumming his guitar with two fingers

GOD KNOWS JUGHEAD SHOWED UP WITH HIS JACKET OVER HIS SHOULDER TO HEAR HER SPEECH

some first grader is a big fan of Archie

it seems like Betty’s speech is a rerouted, condensed version of her “FP JONES INNOCENT” article imploring Riverdale to embrace its pain, rebirth itself, and get a new town motto

Jughead listening to Betty call him “the very soul of Riverdale” is probably the moment, you know, he was like, The trailer is empty...

oh Jesus he starts the slow clap

can you imagine being an everyday going-about-your-business Riverdale resident without a kid attending high school, only tangentially paying attention to the news, being like, Who is Veronica Lodge? Does Betty Cooper know Jughead? Why is he called Jughead? What?

Fred is damn right about Hermione being at a damn crossroads

Betty, who signed in pink, Veronica, who signed in purple, and Jughead, who signed in black with his crown, are the only signatures on Archie’s cast yet

Veronica and Archie appear to have chocolate milkshakes, while Betty got a vanilla, and Jughead has Betty’s usual strawberry, with her arm slung around his leg

I know you had forgotten about Penelope!!!!!!!!!

Cheryl’s a psychopath: there are no words in Elvish, Entish, or the tongues of men to describe the sight of Cheryl Blossom standing at the fireplace holding a candelabra with a tub of gasoline at the floor, (helpfully labeled “Gasoline”) in a white Super Sailor Moon dress, about to burn down her house

Jughead really did clean that shit up!

in the annals of sexy cinematic history, where Rear Window, Secretary, The Handmaiden, and the 2005 Pride & Prejudice all reside, there is a little shelf space saved for the shot of Jughead, out of focus, pulling his hat off behind Betty’s back and throwing it onto the couch

there were only five minutes left in the whole episode when the heavy percussion started and Jughead LIFTS Betty off the ground by her waist. YOU KNOW!!! SOME PEOPLE ARE ABOUT TO GET LAID!!!!

Veronica and Archie slip into her apartment, her mother is passed out on tranquilizers. THEY’RE REALLY DOING IT THIS TIME, THIS TIME I’M NOT DELUSIONAL

Veronica truly did make a Prince Valiant reference

you know I loved Veronica’s beautiful tiny stockinged feet coming off the ground!

the little shot of Veronica exploring Archie’s chest in the dark, by silhouette, whispering to him, was all I really needed from a sexy Riverdale scene, you know? I was sated. all the happy couples were making out and heading for great things, their first happy nights in so long. like, “We’ve had this date with each other,” etc., everything is finally good. I thought that was THE END. I thought that was the end! I WAS ALREADY HAPPY. I DIDN’T KNOW WE WOULD GET JUGHEAD SLAMMING BETTY INTO THE KITCHEN CABINET. I DIDN’T KNOW!!!!!

only, ONLY Betty and Jughead, even with all that chest exposed between the two of them, they still go for each other’s faces, in, dare I say, a clever reprisal of Archie’s mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, kissing like they want to consume each other

it really has to be seen to be believed, how up in there Jughead is between Betty’s legs, the dimple of his back muscles while he’s kissing her like he’s going to push her through the wall

NO ONE EXPECTED Jughead to hold his hand to the side of Betty’s neck and go down to like BITE her collarbone ONSCREEN, what, like, what the fuck, who blocked this? YOU, LEE TOLAND KRIEGER? A MASTERPIECE

Jughead eats: he brought her to the kitchen. “The cafeteria.” he was planning on eating

poor things Betty and Jughead conditioned to assume it’s Alice Cooper interrupting their heavy petting

Jughead’s hair twanging around his forehead cracks me up

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: TIME Person of the Year LEE TOLAND KRIEGER giving us one last rack focus of the line of lights on top of the trailer, dripping with rain, what else could possible happen in the last two minutes of this episode??? stay tuned bitches!!!

Gay?!: Jughead Devotee Southside Teen is back! WITH SCRAGGLY CANON SHEEPDOG HOT DOG. Jughead is like…...hi…...

mangy gruff Serpent daddy has a nose ring, which is always cool

Best costume bit: though it looks like various interviews has RAS saying otherwise, I didn’t read Jughead putting the Serpent jacket on as an unambiguous, wholehearted, instantaneous joining and acceptance of the Serpents on Jughead’s part, for me it was more a mix of A) a thank-you B) “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad” C) a “trying on” of what it might feel like to maybe live this life D) indulging in a moment of being sought out, validated as a member of a community (complicated! because Betty just called him the soul of Riverdale!) F) Cady slowly realizing she’s the new Queen Bee E) a bomb-ass jacket

of course we know Jughead must be incredibly important to the Serpents, whether he knows it or not, so is this them coming to him and being like, The king is dead, long live the king!, or is he a sideways, sometimes-Serpent, or does he even have to “BE” a “Serpent” for them to still take him a bit under wing and protect him—from whom?—while FP is gone? did FP tell them to leave him alone, what was understood, what was ordered, WHAT IS JUGHEAD? what are any of us? who am I? aren’t we all just going to die? (write this fic for me)

the point is that Jughead looks REAL good shrugging the leather jacket on

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: in the silence, in the rain, and the curl of his bangs on his forehead, YYEEEEESSSSSSSS

with a BOOM shot of the Dark Mark taut on his shoulders, like in the fourth episode when FP walked into frame

Sixth period is Intro to Film: Betty’s “Juggie” from behind the door, and he looks back at her? Godfather reference #2

I KNOW YOU FORGOT CHERYL WAS BURNING DOWN THORNHILL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cheryl’s hair: all of Jughead’s surprise sexual dexterity aside, the greatest moment is the slow-motion shot of Cheryl and Penelope. Cheryl is staring at her work, entranced, okay, having finally been able to take irreversible action to cleanse herself, but Penelope behind her is, understandably, going berserk, and repeat Nobel Laureate LEE TOLAND KRIEGER has her lash out to strike Cheryl, but she’s one step too far back, and there’s an explosion of Cheryl’s hair over her shoulder and it’s got to be one of the most beautiful things ever to be on television

of course Veronica slept in Archie’s dress shirt

the female gaze: Archie’s back is always, always worth it

“Damn good coffee”: oh, he’s so happy in the bathroom mirror

WITH LITERALLY THIRTY SECONDS LEFT IN THE EPISODE, THERE IS AN ARMED ROBBERY OF THE DINER

who would rob Pop’s? is this a hit on Fred Andrews? DID SOMEONE ORDER A HIT ON FRED? JUGHEAD SAID IT WAS “ANYTHING BUT RANDOM,” WHO WOULD KILL FRED ANDREWS????

are you going to sit there and tell me fucking Riverdale hired Luke fucking Perry and then it KILLED OFF LUKE FUCKING PERRY? when the fucking blue neon “RIVERDALE” came up after that, I lost my SHIT. FUCKING RIVERDALE LIKE JESUS CHRIST

next season: full-time student Veronica Lodge finds herself in the midst of a viciously civil power struggle with her father, freed felon Hiram Lodge, over ownership of Andrews Construction, the Pembrooke apartment, half of the town, and the love of her mother. while investigating the true extent of her best friend’s father’s illegal activities for her next exposé, Betty Cooper starts receiving death threats, political pressure to “let the story go,” and mysterious late-night voicemail tips concerning the business dealings of her gangster boyfriend which “might be interesting” to her should she choose to “look closer,” all of which she documents and files in alphabetical order in a fireproof safe beneath her bed (the tips are from her secret brother). Archie Andrews, who is now Batman, must hunt down the masked bandit who killed his father, helped by his best friend Jughead Jones, who, unbeknownst to Archie, has taken his father’s place as the leader of the biggest criminal empire in Riverdale and masterminded a coup for control of the Canadian heroin cartel in Clifford Blossom’s absence to buy Betty as many structured jackets as her heart desires (write this fic for me)

#riverdale #commentary #i say #tropes

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