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seongwars · 14 days ago

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𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 | 𝐨𝐧𝐞

Pairing: Viscount!Choi San x Countess!Reader AU: non-idol | regency Rating: T/NC-17 Summary: After falling prey to one of Choi San’s cruel games, you vowed yourself to a life of eternal spinsterhood. But when a fire leaves the Choi estate in ruins, the very man you swore you would never forgive re-enters your life. Word Count: 7.8K Warnings: you were a bet trope, misogyny, men being disappointing, angst, swearing, inaccurate depictions of the era (sorry history buffs 😭)

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a/n: it's here! the rewritten version of Ardently, now known as Wallflower! Note that those who signed up for Ardently's taglist will be tagged here, but let me know if you'd like for me to remove you!

feedback on this new version is also appreciated

"I’m joining a convent!" you declared dramatically, clutching a small sack packed with nothing but a pair of sensible shoes, and a shawl for your new monastic life.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” your mother snapped, reaching for your arm as you darted past her with surprising agility, fueled by equal parts adrenaline and spite.

“I will not be trapped under the same roof as him!” you shouted, narrowly avoiding Anna, the head maid, who was attempting to form a human barricade by the parlor door.

“The sisters of Saint Hala will understand my plight! They’ve taken in women for less!”

Joe, the head butler, a sweet old man, tried to sidestep your wild trajectory near the staircase, but you spun past him with an impressive maneuver. He groaned, pressing a hand to his lower back as you darted away, Anna and your mother hot on your heels.

You burst out the front door and onto the gravel path. Anna was close behind, huffing as she struggled to keep her bonnet in place, while Joe followed at a more measured pace, muttering about the indignities of old age. Your mother, however, stalked after you like a woman possessed, her voice rising above the commotion.

“Kang Y/N, stop this nonsense! “You are not becoming a nun just because the Choi family is staying with us!”

You whipped around briefly, clutching your sack like a shield. “You’re asking me to endure the unspeakable horror of living under the same roof as Choi San!”

“I’m asking you to behave like an adult!” your mother shot back.

“I am an adult!” you retorted, darting further down the path. “One who is capable of making her own decisions!”

Behind you, the haphazard mob of your mother, Anna, and Joe screeched to a halt, their gasps of exertion mingling with the crunch of gravel underfoot.

“What now?” you barked, spinning around to glare at your entourage, your chest heaving from the effort of your escape.

“My lady!” Anna squeaked, her voice strained. “My lady, wait!”

The answer came in the form of an unfamiliar silence. Slowly, you realized the mob wasn’t staring at you—they were looking just beyond you.

Confused, you turned toward the gates, and there he was.

Choi San was standing just a few feet away, halfway down the steps of his family’s carriage. He stared at you, his head tilted slightly, dark eyes wide with confusion as he took in the spectacle: you, breathless and disheveled, holding your pitiful sack like a runaway, while your mother, Anna, and Joe formed a panting, disorganized trio behind you.

For a moment, the only sound was the rustle of the breeze through the estate’s trees.

San blinked, clearly at a loss for words. His hand lingered on the edge of the carriage door as if he were debating whether stepping back inside would be the more sensible option.

“M-Ms. Kang?” he asked hesitantly, his voice soft and cautious, entirely devoid of the insufferable smugness you had expected.

Your face flushed a furious red, caught somewhere between humiliation and indignation. You had not run halfway down the estate path, your mother, Anna, and Joe in hot pursuit, just to be confronted by him of all people.

“You!” you spluttered, pointing a shaky finger in his direction, the sack swinging precariously at your side.

“Me?”

“Mr. Choi!” your mother shrieked suddenly, pushing past Anna, her skirts swishing dramatically.

“Mr. Choi, stop her!”

“She’s running away!” Anna exclaimed, clutching her chest as though this scandal was enough to make her faint.

“Block the path, tackle her if you must, anything to stop this madness!” Joe groaned, rubbing his aching knee.

Without giving anyone a chance to act, you spun on your heel and bolted. Your little sack was clutched tightly in your arms, its contents jingling faintly as your feet crunched against the gravel.

Behind you, the chaos reached its peak—San calling your name in confusion, Anna’s faint protests, Joe muttering curses about his knees, and your mother’s furious shrieks of indignation.

But none of it mattered. You had escaped. For now.

You hadn’t always loathed Choi San. At twenty, you’d even been drawn to his charm, captivated by the effortless confidence he exuded. But that admiration was short lived, turning into bitter resentment after he lured you into a reckless wager, a cruel game fueled by his arrogance that left you humiliated and betrayed.

4 Years Earlier

“Why the doom and gloom?” Wooyoung asked as he plopped into the seat across from San. He leaned back, stretching his legs out comfortably, as he took a swig of his scotch.

San shot him a glare, the kind that would make lesser men falter, but Wooyoung only raised a brow, unfazed. San’s jaw tightened, and he gripped his glass more firmly.

“I’m not,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

Wooyoung scoffed. “What’s going on? Did someone step on your pride or just your heart? Oh wait,” he feigned realization, snapping his fingers.

“It’s Dami, isn’t it?”

San’s jaw clenched visibly at the jab, and for a moment, he contemplated chucking the glass across the room just to see Wooyoung flinch. But he didn’t. It had been weeks, weeks since Dami’s defection to Lord Jeon, yet the sting of her rejection still burned like an open wound.

San, the youngest and only son of Viscount Choi, had an uncanny knack for charming everyone he met. His charisma was well-known, making him the center of attention in any room. He wore his rakish reputation with pride, his flirtations harmless enough to keep him out of scandal but tantalizing enough to make him the subject of constant speculation.

And for a time, his charm had captured the heart of Han Dami, the daughter of a baron and the envy of every debutante. Together, they had been the couple of the season—the talk of every ballroom, the object of admiration and envy alike.

But that was before.

Before she abruptly ended things with him, San had entertained dreams of romance. A sweeping love story that defied the harsh realities of their world. But love alone was never enough. He lived in a world where practicality reigned, and expectations of passion often crumbled under the weight of ambition and survival.

“Look,” Wooyoung began, waving a dismissive hand. “Wallowing doesn’t suit you. If you’re so hung up on her, why not make her regret it? Win someone else over. Let her see what she gave up.”

San’s jaw tightened, his fingers drumming against his glass. The idea was ridiculous, childish, even, but it wormed its way into his mind nonetheless. Wooyoung, ever the instigator, saw it instantly. The faint flicker of hesitation in San’s eyes, the way his pride clashed with caution.

“If you’re so confident, give me a name, and I’ll prove you wrong,” San finally said.

“The Wallflower.”

“Wallflower?”

“Miss Kang Y/N,” Wooyoung elaborated, his grin widening.

“Sister to the Earl Kang. You’ve seen her—always hiding in the corners, avoiding conversation like it’s a plague. Invisible to most. Certainly not your type.”

Your debut season in society was a whirlwind of excitement and trepidation, a delicate dance between anticipation and the subtle pressure to conform. As the younger sister of Earl Kang Yeosang, you entered the glittering world of the ton with a blend of expectation and apprehension.

While others were preoccupied with securing advantageous matches or making influential acquaintances, your thoughts frequently wandered to the world of literature. You dreamt of a future where you would hold your first published book in your hands—a future that seemed distant amidst the societal demands of the present.

San scoffed, setting his glass down with a deliberate clink. “Since when have I needed a type to charm a lady?”

“You’ll find no eager glances or fluttering fans with this one. She’s not desperate for attention. She’s reserved. Thoughtful. The sort who can see through a man’s empty words.”

“What’s the wager?”

“If you can truly win her over, I’ll fund that expedition you’ve been pestering me about for months,” Wooyoung replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand. He secretly hoped San would fail—an expedition of such grandeur was bound to cost a pretty penny.

San’s lips curved into a confident smirk. “Consider it done.”

A wave of laughter and cheers erupted in their circle of friends. The challenge had been laid out, and San’s self-assured response had ignited a buzz of excitement. He would prove Dami wrong. If she had chosen security over passion, then he would show her and everyone else that he was still the man every woman desired.

After all, what harm could there be in making a wallflower blossom?

The first attempt San set out to woo you, was at a hunt hosted by his family. The day was crisp, with a low mist hanging over the expansive grounds of the manor, a sprawling estate nestled against the autumnal countryside. The air is filled with the distant sounds of hounds barking, horses snorting, and the low murmur of conversation from the assembled guests.

Amid the cluster of gentlemen in their riding coats and polished boots, you spotted San, seated atop his stallion. His posture was relaxed yet commanding, drawing more than a few admiring glances from the assembled ladies.

San caught your gaze from across the clearing and nudged his horse in your direction. Your heart began to pound against your ribcage, each beat growing louder, more insistent, until it drowned out the distant chatter of the other guests.

You were suddenly, acutely aware of the many eyes turning to watch this unexpected approach—mamas murmuring behind their fans, young ladies whispering behind gloved hands, and even the gentlemen casting curious glances. You could almost hear their thoughts: Why is he riding toward her? What does he mean by it?

“Ms. Kang,” San greeted as he reigned in his horse beside you, his voice low and smooth, laced with that familiar, infuriating hint of amusement.

"What a welcome surprise."

You tilted your head slightly, fighting to keep your voice steady even as your fingers nervously fiddled with the leather handle of your riding crop.

“Mr. Choi,” you replied, allowing a thin, polite smile to play on your lips, though you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, away from the rest of your party.”

“And yet, here I am. Fate has a strange way of bringing people together, don’t you think?” San’s voice was smooth, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Or perhaps it’s your…habit for being everywhere at once,” you insinuated, taking a jab at his reputation.

His gaze lingered on you, a flicker of confusion in his eyes as he took in your demeanor. He had expected you to be as shy and reserved as the rumors suggested, but you defied those expectations entirely.

“Will you be watching from the sidelines like the rest?” San asked, a teasing edge in his voice that softened into genuine interest.

“Or might you be bold enough to take part in the hunt yourself?”

You raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a hint of challenge. “I might surprise you, Mr. Choi. I’m not one to sit idly by when there’s excitement to be had.”

San’s confusion quickly turned to intrigue. “I look forward to seeing you out there,” he said, his voice carrying a thread of quiet confidence. He gave you a slight, respectful bow of his head before guiding his horse back toward the group.

You caught the faintest hint of a smirk playing at his lips as he rode away, and a wave of frustration mingled with something warmer, something unwelcome, swept through you. You turned your horse away forcing yourself to ignore the whispers and sideways glances, and made your way over to where your brother and the rest of the hunting party had gathered.

It was unusual for women to join the hunt, an activity traditionally dominated by men, but you had never been one to follow convention. Ever since you were a child, you had accompanied your father on his excursions, slipping away from the stuffy drawing rooms and the tiresome embroidery lessons to ride beside him. Your father had always encouraged your spirit, delighted in the way you held the reins with such determination, the way you matched him stride for stride through fields and forests.

The horns sounded, a clear, commanding call that echoed across the fields. The hounds sprang forward, their lean bodies surging across the estate, their howls filling the air with a primal energy. You urged your own horse to move, feeling the familiar rush of excitement as the wind whipped against your face, the ground blurring beneath you.

San hadn’t expected to see you mounted on a horse with such a determined look in your eyes. The sight was a stark contrast to the reserved demeanor you usually displayed at social gatherings. As he watched you ride, he saw you weaving through the other hunters with practiced ease, your movements fluid and confident. The way you handled your horse, guiding it with subtle commands, spoke of a skill honed over years.

A thrill shot through him, an electric spark that danced along his skin, igniting a sense of admiration and curiosity. He found himself captivated by this facet of your personality, one that defied the quiet, unassuming image you were rumored to project.

Perhaps the wallflower has a brazen side to her, he mused.

The hounds had picked up a scent, their excited barks echoing through the forest. The riders spurred their horses forward, the thrill of the chase driving them on. You urged your horse to keep pace, the wind whipping through your hair as you navigated the dense underbrush.

Suddenly, a fallen branch blocked your path. You guided your horse to leap over it, the powerful muscles of the animal bunching beneath you as it soared through the air. You landed smoothly on the other side, the impact barely jarring as your horse’s hooves met the ground with practiced precision.

A triumphant smile spread across your face, the exhilaration of the jump coursing through your veins. As you regained your stride, you noticed San riding alongside you, his eyes alight with admiration.

“Impressive,” he called out, his tone genuinely warm and filled with respect.

You gave him a small nod, acknowledging the compliment with a modest smile. The thrill of the moment spurred you on, and you surged forward with your horse, the wind whipping through your hair as you raced ahead.

San matched your pace effortlessly, but confusion crossed his face once again. He had expected a verbal response, perhaps a playful retort or a shared laugh. Instead, your silence left him puzzled, wondering if he had misread the situation.

Eventually, the hunt drew to a close. The hounds had cornered their quarry, and the riders began to gather, their faces flushed with excitement. You dismounted, your legs slightly unsteady from the exertion. San was at your side in an instant, offering his arm for support.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It was my pleasure,” he replied, his voice soft and sincere. “Perhaps we could ride together again sometime,” San suggested, his tone hopeful.

You chuckled softly, trying to steady your racing heart. “That would be improper without a chaperone, Mr. Choi,” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes as you pulled your hand away and turned to make your way back to your brother and mother.

San watched you go, a thoughtful smile lingering on his lips, knowing full well that he had caught a glimpse of something rare and untamed—a side of you that he would very much like to see again.

⊹

The day after the hunt dawned quietly, the morning light filtering through your window in soft, golden rays. You were beginning to settle into the rhythm of the day when a knock sounded at the door. One of the housemaids appeared in the doorway, looking slightly flustered.

“Miss, a delivery has arrived for you,” she announced, her eyes bright with a mixture of curiosity and excitement.

“A delivery?” you repeated, setting down the book you were pretending to read. “For me?”

She nodded eagerly and stepped aside, revealing a young footman holding a large, exquisite bouquet of flowers—pink roses, rhododendrons, and geraniums, artfully arranged with sprigs of greenery and delicate baby’s breath.

You took the flowers gingerly, surprised by their weight and the intoxicating scent that enveloped you. For a moment, you were at a loss, glancing down at the arrangement with a mixture of confusion and wonder. Who could have sent these?

Your eyes caught sight of a small card nestled among the blooms. Your fingers trembled slightly as you pulled it free, turning it over to read the neat, elegant script written on it:

“For the lady whose grace and spirit during the hunt were truly a sight to behold. –S.”

You could almost hear his voice in the words—the familiar teasing lilt, that infuriating hint of amusement that seemed to color everything he said. A smile tugged at your lips despite yourself, but you quickly suppressed it, unsure of how you truly felt. Flattered? Irritated? Amused? Perhaps a confusing mix of all three.

“What is this?” your mother asked, appearing in the doorway.

“A gift,” you replied, “from Mr. Choi.”

Your mother’s eyes widened slightly, and she stepped forward, her hands clasping together in front of her.

“Mr. Choi?” she repeated, her tone colored with intrigue. She paused, a contemplative look crossing her face, and you could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. “That is… unexpected.”

“Indeed,” you murmured, glancing back at the flowers.

“Well,” she asked, her tone almost teasing, “will you respond?”

You sighed, feeling a familiar mix of exasperation and affection for the woman who always seemed to know how to unsettle you. You flopped back onto your bed, the springs creaking under your weight.

“I suppose I should thank him,” you admitted, your voice carrying a hint of reluctance.

Your mother’s eyes sparkled with anticipation, a mischievous smile plastered across her face. “He has made quite a gesture, after all. It would be rude not to acknowledge it.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” you said, sitting up again.

Moving to your writing desk, you dipped your quill into the inkwell. As the nib touched the paper, you paused, considering your words carefully. You knew you would have to strike a balance—a note that was gracious, but not too encouraging; polite, but with just enough edge to keep him guessing.

You hesitated, wondering if you should add something more, some playful remark that would remind him that you weren’t so easily won. But then, deciding that less was more, you signed your name with a flourish and sealed the letter with a small, satisfied smile.

“Mr. Choi–I must thank you for your most unexpected gift. Your thoughtfulness is noted. I trust you enjoyed the hunt as much as I did. Until we meet again.”

The Cromer Fair was a lively affair, bursting with color and sound. Brightly painted stalls lined the village green, offering everything from delicate ribbons and bolts of fabric to candied apples and steaming pies. The fair for all its charm, had become another stage for the intricate theater of high society.

Your family’s arrival, marked by the gleaming carriage, did not go unnoticed. Heads turned as you stepped down from the coach, drawing more attention to the elusive Wallflower. For weeks, whispers had circulated throughout the ton, their interest piqued not by scandal or intrigue, but by your notable absence from social gatherings. Your avoidance of the spotlight had, ironically, made you the subject of intense curiosity.

“Ms. Kang!”

The sound caught your attention instantly, and there he was—San, standing just a few paces away, his expression alight with something close to joy. His smile was so easy and genuine that you felt the corners of your own mouth tugging upward, almost involuntarily.

He bowed slightly, though the gesture carried more charm than propriety. “I feared the fair would pass without the honor of seeing you.”

“Lady Kang,” he greeted your mother, his voice polite and measured.

“Choi,” Yeosang acknowledged curtly, his tone cool and formal. He inclined his head slightly, though there was no warmth in the gesture.

“Kang,” San replied, his eyes briefly meeting Yeosang’s before returning to you. There was a subtle challenge in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the tension that hung in the air. Perceptive bastard, Yeosang thought as he rolled his eyes.

“How lovely it is to see you here, Mr. Choi!” your mother exclaimed with a lilting laugh, the kind she reserved for smoothing over the awkwardness of situations she had orchestrated.

“Perhaps, a stroll might be in order? The fair has so much to offer, and it would be a shame to miss it.”

Before you could respond, she continued, “Yeosang, dear, you’ll accompany your sister and Mr. Choi, won’t you? As her brother, it’s only proper.”

You and Yeosang exchanged a glance, dread mirrored in both your eyes. It wasn’t the usual look of sibling camaraderie but a shared expression of silent protest aimed squarely at your mother. You had no desire to go promenading with San, and Yeosang had even less interest in being dragged along as a chaperone.

“Of course,” he replied stiffly, his tone making it painfully clear this was not his preference.

“Wonderful!” your mother declared with a clap of her hands. “Make the most of it, dear. I’m certain Mr. Choi will make an excellent companion.”

“Mother!”

“Oh look, if it isn’t Duchess Jeong!” your mother interrupted without missing a beat, waving gracefully at Duke Jeong’s mother across the grounds. Before either of you could argue further, she glided away, leaving you and Yeosang standing frozen in her wake.

San looked to you, his dark eyes alight with curiosity and amusement, but your thoughts were already elsewhere, drawn by the promise of the fair’s treasures. As the three of you set off, he fell into step beside you.

“Is there anything in particular you’re hoping to see, Ms. Kang?”

You hesitated, glancing at your brother, whose expression seemed to silently dare you to say something frivolous. Deciding honesty wouldn’t hurt, you allowed a hint of excitement to creep into your tone.

“I heard there’s a merchant with books from overseas,” you admitted. “With illustrations from distant lands.”

“Is that what excites you?” San’s lips curved into an easy smile, though his gaze lingered on you with a mix of curiosity and something else. Something more…thoughtful.

“Absolutely,” you replied, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “Books are reliable and make their intentions clear. They don’t waste your time and if they bore you, you can close them and move on.”

There was a deliberate pause as your gaze lingered on his face, a silent question dancing in your eyes. Was he testing you, or simply trying to gauge how far he could go?

He leaned in slightly, as if daring to close the distance between you. “So, you prefer something that can’t surprise you? That can’t push you to think or feel beyond the words on the page?”

“Books surprise me all the time. They’re just more considerate about it. They don’t linger when they’re no longer wanted.”

His laughter came, soft and deep, but his gaze remained fixed on yours.

“And yet, you still let me linger.”

Your cheeks warmed at the unexpected retort, a telltale heat spreading that you struggled to suppress. You turned your head slightly, pretending to take an interest in a nearby stall, but the way your fingers fidgeted together betrayed your composure.

Just ahead, the foreign book merchant’s stall came into view, and you felt relief. Seizing the opportunity, you quickened your pace, using the excuse to put some distance between you and the weight of his attention.

“Here we are,” you announced, your tone just a bit too bright as you gestured to the vendor’s display. Books of every size and color were arranged in carefully balanced stacks, their worn spines hinting at untold stories and distant lands.

You stepped closer to the shelves, your fingers brushing over the embossed titles, pausing occasionally to pull a volume free and examine it. Your expression softened as you opened a leather-bound book, your eyes skimming the faded ink with quiet reverence.

San watched as you picked up another volume. The quiet focus in your movements seemed to draw him in, as if the bustling fair around you had melted into stillness. There was something captivating about the way you moved as though nothing else existed but the books in front of you.

Despite your best efforts to regain control of your thoughts, you could feel his presence just behind you. It made your steps falter slightly, and you cursed inwardly at your inability to maintain your cool.

“You’re unusually quiet,” he remarked. Your gaze flitted to his, your heart betraying you with a slight quickening.

“I wasn’t aware silence was such a novelty,” you replied, attempting to mask your unease with a touch of humor.

“It is, coming from someone who usually has such pointed opinions.”

You rolled your eyes, handing him the book you’d just examined. “Hold this,” you said, your tone brisk but not unkind.

San blinked in surprise but complied, taking the book from your hands. His fingers brushed against the worn leather cover as he glanced down at it. Before he could comment, you had already moved on, scanning the shelves with a discerning eye.

“It seems books hold the secrets of the universe?” he teased lightly, approaching your side.

“They do, in a way,” you replied without looking at him, your attention fixed on the spines in front of you. Your fingers danced over the titles until you selected another volume, pulling it free and flipping through the pages.

“Every book is a door to somewhere new. You never know what you’ll find until you open it.”

“I see,” he murmured, though whatever witty retort he had in mind dissolved the moment you placed a second book atop the first in his arms. He chuckled softly, the teasing glint in his eyes softening as he watched you move with determination.

“Isn’t that Mr. Choi?” a whisper came, the words carrying despite the attempt at discretion.

“Is he courting Ms. Kang?”

San stiffened, his shoulders tightening as if bracing for impact. The muscles in his jaw tightened for a fraction of a second before he forced himself to relax. With a subtle shift, he angled his body to shield you from view, though his eyes flicked instinctively towards you.

You remained blissfully unaware, lost in the pages of your chosen book, your brow furrowed slightly in concentration. Whether the murmurs reached you or not, you gave no indication of noticing.

“They make for such an unusual…pair,” the other woman chimed in, her voice quieter but no less pointed.

The first woman hummed in agreement. “Quite a step down from Dami, wouldn’t you say?”

“Dami was the diamond of her season,” the second woman added, a faint laugh in her voice, “but this…” She let the words hang, heavy with judgment.

“Perhaps she’s just…a distraction,” the first concluded with a theatrical sigh.

San’s grip on the books tightened slightly, the sharp edges pressing into his palms as their words sank in. He should have brushed them off, reminded himself of the role he was playing and the purpose behind it all. Yet their voices grated against him; not because of their dismissal of him, but because of the way they belittled you.

A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. You weren’t supposed to be anything more than a convenient prop, proof of what Dami had walked away from.

But as you turned to show him the book, your eyes lit up with excitement. In that moment, he wasn’t thinking about Dami or the wager with Wooyoung.

All he could think about was you, standing before him, and how fond he was growing of you.

San leaned back in his chair, the rich scent of smoke curling around him like a veil. He held his cards in one hand, his other hand bringing the cigar to his mouth for a slow, deliberate puff. The ember at the tip glowed brighter as he inhaled, a flicker of fire against the dark backdrop of the room.

“How goes the wallflower?” Lord Park Seonghwa asked. The question was casual, almost offhand, but the sharp glint in his eye suggested he was more interested in the answer than he let on.

San studied his cards, his fingers tapping lightly against the worn edges. After a moment of silence, he flicked his gaze up to meet Lord Park’s.

“She’s…intriguing,” San replied at last, his voice carrying a hint of something more than mere curiosity. He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, watching as it swirled and dissipated into the room.

“Not as shy as others say she is. I’d say she has more thorns than petals.”

“Thorns can be dangerous, my friend,” Wooyoung mused, his gaze sharp as he considered San’s words.

“Especially when they’re hidden beneath such a delicate facade.”

San’s smile didn’t waver, though a shadow passed over his features, too fleeting for most to catch. “Delicate things also have a way of surprising you when you least expect it.”

Wooyoung raised a brow. “Is that so?”

“Might I remind you gentlemen that you’re playing with fire?” Duke Jeong Yunho interjected smoothly, his eyes never leaving the cards in his hand.

“Kang Yeosang doesn’t take kindly to anyone who crosses his family.”

The room fell into a tense silence, save for the fire crackling softly, its light flickering in Yunho’s eyes as he finally looked up. The warning was unmistakable in his expression, a quiet but undeniable threat hanging in the air.

San’s gaze remained fixed on his cards, his mind clearly elsewhere as he processed Yunho’s warning. The Duke studied him for a moment longer than necessary, the silence thick challenge. It was a standoff of sorts, where neither words nor gestures were needed to communicate the rivalry between them.

Finally, with a slight nod, Yunho returned to his cards, signaling the end of the conversation. But the tension lingered, palpable and unresolved, hanging over the room.

As the days turned into weeks, San found himself increasingly torn between the thrill of the dare and the reality of his growing affection for you. He hadn’t expected you to be so different from what he imagined.

“Mr. Choi–do you believe that ducks have the ability to ponder their existence?”

He stared at the words for a long moment, both amused and intrigued by the sheer randomness of the question, before dipping his pen into ink.

“Miss Kang—I assure you, if ducks ever stopped to ponder their existence, they would undoubtedly seize control of us all. That is, of course, assuming they’re capable of getting their ducks in a row.”

When this began, it was easy. You were charming in your own way, but he hadn’t been looking for depth. He hadn’t anticipated someone passionate, whose sharp wit and quiet strength captivated him.

San adjusted his cravat in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time, his reflection offering no solace for the turmoil within. He knew he was treading dangerous waters. The more he allowed himself to feel, the harder it became to maintain the facade.

He feared what would happen when the truth inevitably came to light; that his intentions had been born not from affection, but from a petty wager and desire to vindicate his pride. That he had approached you not as the woman you were, but as a means to an end.

The thought haunted him. You deserved better than the lies he’d told, better than the man he had been when this all began. And yet, as much as he wanted to walk away and spare you the eventual heartbreak, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting more.

More of your company. More of your attention. More of you.

The familiar strains of the musicians tuning their instruments floated through the ballroom. From the gilded mirrors that lined the walls to the chandeliers dripping with crystal, every detail of the Kang ballroom was a testament to opulence and sophistication.

San, ever the charming gentleman, was acutely aware of the eyes that followed his every move. His colleagues and other potential admirers watched with barely concealed interest, some with jealousy, others with curiosity. They knew he was playing a game, but none knew the rules, least of all you.

As his gaze swept across the crowded room, searching for any sign of you, the lively chatter and watchful eyes faded into the background. Uncertainty crept in as he wondered where you had disappeared to.

Determined to find you, he stepped forward, his eyes darting toward the balcony doors and the faint glow of the gardens beyond. Perhaps you had retreated to steal a moment of solitude. The thought of you standing alone beneath the stars sent an inexplicable urgency coursing through him.

Just as he started toward the edge of the room, a hand brushed against his arm, halting him mid-step.

“San.”

The familiar voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned, startled to find Dami standing before him. Her expression was poised but not unreadable.

"May I have a word?"

He hesitated, his gaze flickering over her shoulder in a final, searching sweep of the ballroom. A part of him wanted to dismiss her, to follow the thread of instinct that urged him to find you instead. But Dami’s presence demanded his attention, her tone leaving little room for refusal.

“Of course.”

⊹

The evening had been a whirlwind of forced smiles and polite exchanges, each interaction more draining than the last. The laughter and chatter of the crowded ballroom felt like a cacophony, grating on your nerves, and you had long since grown tired of the superficial conversations.

Seeking a moment of solitude, you slipped through a side door and into the garden, a quiet sanctuary away from the prying eyes of high society. You wandered along the gravel paths, the scent of night blooms filling the air. For a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine a world where you weren’t bound by the rigid rules of propriety, where you could be free to live and love as you wished.

But that fleeting peace was abruptly interrupted when you heard voices nearby, muffled but unmistakably familiar.

“Was it worth it? Putting on this little act, dragging her along?” Dami’s voice was soft, almost sweet, as she glanced up at San with a tilt of her head.

“Don’t tell me you actually started to feel something for her.”

The silence that followed was excruciating, heavy and suffocating, stretching on for what felt like an eternity. You leaned closer, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to make sense of what you were hearing, your breath hitching at the implications.

San froze, his body stiffening as if the question had struck him physically. His chest tightened, the weight of her words twisting in him like a blade. The confident smirk he had worn earlier faltered, dropping his gaze to the dim glow of the lanterns flickering around them.

“No.”

The single word cut through the air, sharp and final, and it shattered something inside you.

Dami’s lips curved into a triumphant smile, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

“We both know you don’t want her. You never did. You wanted to forget me. That’s all this was.”

Her gloved hand slid down his arm in a gesture that was both possessive and intimate. “What’s stopping us from trying again?”

“No more pathetic little wallflower,” she murmured, her voice dripping with disdain.

“Terribly awkward and unsociable. The type doomed to spinsterhood.”

San let out a low chuckle, the sound dark and hollow as he shook his head. But he didn’t pull away from her touch.

“What did Wooyoung bet you?” Dami pressed, her curiosity sharp and pointed.

“That’s between us,” he teased, amused.

Your heart sank as you listened, your world crumbling around you. The man who sent you flowers, who had seemed to share a connection, had been playing a game all along.

How could you have been so foolish? How could you have let yourself believe that someone like him could genuinely care for someone like you?

You could feel the tears stinging your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here, not now. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing how deeply they had hurt you. But as you stood there, the anger began to build, simmering beneath the surface until it was impossible to contain.

You couldn’t let San believe that his betrayal would go unnoticed, that his actions would have no consequences. With a surge of resolve, you stepped out from the shadows, making yourself known.

“Is this true?” you demanded, your voice quivering and strained.

You locked eyes with San, the man who had been at the center of it all, the one who had so effortlessly made you believe in the possibility of something more. But there was no explanation that could undo what he had done.

“Y/N. I–” he stammered, his voice faltering as he grappled with the gravity of the situation.

“How dare you toy with my feelings because of your bruised ego? How dare you lead me to lay bare my vulnerabilities only to use them as fodder for your amusement?”

San flinched at the venom in your words, his face paling as the full impact of what he had done became impossible to ignore.

“Y/N, please—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, the tears you had been holding back finally spilling over. “Don’t try to justify this. Don’t try to tell me it wasn’t what it seemed. Because I heard you. I heard everything.”

For a moment, you stood there, breathing heavily, your chest heaving with the force of your emotions.

“You’ve shown me exactly who you are.”

With one final look at San, you turned on your heel and walked away. You would not run, you would not flee into the night like some wounded animal. You would survive this. You would rise above it.

And you would show them all that you were not a wallflower to be trifled with.

“The Choi estate was partially burned last night,” Yeosang announced, stepping into the drawing room. His voice was tinged with urgency as he approached, the unopened letter a silent plea for attention.

You ignored your brother and instead flipped the page of your book with deliberate nonchalance. “Send them my regards,” you bristled, your tone biting even as you maintained the pretense of calm.

Yeosang sighed, clearly grappling with how best to navigate this unexpected development. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you recognized as one of his tells when he was deeply troubled.

“They’re seeking refuge with extended friends and relatives while the estate is restored,” he explained softly. His eyes lingered on you, gauging your reaction as he placed the envelope on the table before you. The Choi family’s wax seal, a delicate emblem of the mountains and skies, seemed a fragile echo of their former prestige.

“Y/N,” Yeosang’s voice softened, almost pleading.

“Brother,” you replied, finally looking up from your book. The skepticism in your voice was as much a defense mechanism as the sarcasm you’d laced it with.

“They’re desperate,” Yeosang admitted. “The accident has left them with little choice.”

“How unfortunate,” you replied flatly. “Perhaps the Viscount should have ensured his household wasn’t a tinderbox waiting for disaster. Foolishness, it seems, runs in their blood.”

The words were more cutting than you had intended, but you didn’t regret them. The Choi’s predicament, though dire, was of their own making, and the idea that they would try to drag your family into their mess infuriated you.

“The Viscount is invoking a favor as a friend to father.”

“Our late father’s generosity does not extend to negligence or recklessness,” you retorted, leaning back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest.

“And it certainly does not extend to housing strays.”

The tree branch creaked under your weight as you settled higher up, your legs dangling lazily over the edge. The letter from the Choi family had been too much to bear, its contents so suffocating that you bolted, preferring to become a sister of St. Hala to sharing a roof with Choi San.

How convenient it must be for them, you mused bitterly, to seek sanctuary now, when it was their own schemes that had caused this debacle.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of horses' hooves, faint at first, then growing louder as they drew closer. You peered through the branches and spotted Yeosang and Yunho riding toward the estate.

You swung your legs back over the branch, debating the best way to descend without completely embarrassing yourself. Grabbing your sack, you decided to toss it to the ground first but miscalculated when it veered too far to the right and smacked Yeosang in the head.

“Y/N!” your brother barked.

Ignoring his swears, you began shimmying down the tree, carefully testing each branch to balance your weight. But as usual, fate had other plans. Your foot slipped, and you let out a startled gasp, flailing for the nearest branch. Gravity claimed you, sending you tumbling through the air until a pair of strong arms caught you mid fall.

“Careful there, Lucifer,” Yunho laughed, steadying you in his arms.

You blinked up at him, momentarily dazed. His arms were firm around you, and the absurdity of the situation hit you all at once. You, tangled in Yunho’s arms, looking thoroughly disheveled from your grand escape attempt.

“Foiling my plans to destroy the heavens, as always,” you groaned, your face flushing with embarrassment as you pulled yourself away from him.

“If this is your idea of a divine rebellion, might I suggest conquering climbing first,” he chuckled.

Yeosang dismounted his horse with quiet fury, stalking towards you. He held your sack, his knuckles white against the worn fabric, as if it were the root of all his troubles.

“Running away?”

You crossed your arms, lifting your chin defiantly despite the fact that your hair was likely a mess and your clothes bore the evidence of your failed escape.

“Yes,” you replied coolly, “but I thought it only polite to bid you and Yunho farewell before committing myself to St. Hala.”

His grip on the sack tightened, his knuckles standing out starkly as he muttered under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like, “Why am I related to this lunatic?” He exhaled sharply, as if forcing himself to rein in his frustration.

“Do you ever stop to think, or is recklessness a natural talent of yours?”

You glared at him, refusing to back down. “I could say the same about you, brother, for not understanding the brilliance of letting vipers into the nest.”

“I’m doing what’s necessary to fulfill a promise between father and the viscount! Do you know what it meant to father to keep his word? A bond of trust that defined him and our family!”

“And yet here you are, jeopardizing all of it by letting them crawl closer! A promise to the viscount doesn’t mean we have to blindly—”

“There she is!”

Both of you froze as your mother swept onto the scene, flanked by Anna, and her husband Jason, the head groundskeeper. Jason’s expression left no doubt he was prepared to intervene if necessary, unlike poor Joe.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, darting behind Yunho in a desperate attempt to escape. But Jason, faster and far stronger than Joe, easily caught up to you. His firm grip closed around your arm, leaving no room for negotiation.

“Not another word,” your mother hissed, her voice icy enough to freeze the air around her.

Yeosang, who had momentarily been forgotten in the chaos, muttered something unintelligible, as your mother grabbed your free arm with an iron grip.

“I’m not going back there!” you shouted, your voice echoing across the grounds as Jason and your mother began dragging you toward the estate.

Behind you, Yunho chuckled softly, falling into step with the chaotic procession. His easy going demeanor only added to your frustration.

“Yunho, don’t just stand there!” you snapped, trying to twist out of Jason’s hold. “Help me!”

From the drawing room, San watched the commotion unfold, his arms crossed, though the faint smirk that once might have graced his lips was absent. Instead, his expression was tense, his brows drawing together as his dark eyes followed your every move.

There had been a time when he might have chuckled at the sight, teasing you later about your theatrics or making some sly remark about your temperament. But now, the thought of doing so felt hollow, wrong even.

He told himself you hated him, and maybe you did. Maybe you always would. And yet, as much as he tried to accept that as his punishment, the thought of it gutted him.

All he could think about was ways to reach out to you, ways to fix what he’d broken. But how could he even begin? What could he possibly say to undo the harm he’d caused?

He found himself hoping desperately that fate might grant him a second chance. A chance to make amends, to prove that he was more than his mistakes.

Because if it wasn’t, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive himself.

II >>

taglist: @e3ellie @scuzmunkie @syubseokie @sunnysidesins

@notevenheretbh1 @litolmochi @intowxnderland @etaerealboy

@foxinnie8 @sanriomilk @kang-ulzzang @life-is-a-game-of-thrones

@vcutparis @ishz @park-simphwa @moonsanshine @drinkingrumandcocacola

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #choi san #cromernet #ateez san #historical au #choi san x reader #choi san x you #ateez fic #regency era #regency au #marriage of convenience #san angst #arranged marriage

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elysianightsss · 9 months ago

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Regency Price thot🌹🤍

I am working on Limerence and Part two of both mountain man and the pen pal au by popular demand. But while you wait for me to write those please enjoy this lovely Viscount John Price and his Viscountess.

Price sat waiting patiently, newspaper in hands reading the latest gossip of the ton. “Aristocrats.” He scoffed low under his breath. Being one of the wealthiest, best-connected members of the middle class came with privileges but too much gossip as far a Price was concerned. Unless it directly affected him he couldn’t care less.

The doors to the dining room opened and in walked a butler, white curly wig on top of his head, his hands wringing together in nervousness as he looked at his master. “Well?” Price asked without looking away from his newspaper, an interesting snippet about a whistle or a lady down or something or other caught his eye.

“My Lord she..” the lack of answer was beginning to agitate him, he rolled up the paper and slammed it on the table, finally making eye contact with the butler.

“What?” Price snapped.

“She doesn’t seem to be here My Lord.” He said, gulping with unease clear in his voice.

“One of the horses is gone too.” A maid had said a little too loudly as she rushed into the room with the important information. Everyone in the room cringed, each and every servent, perhaps at this point even the entire ton, knows if the Viscountess and one of the horses are missing, someone will either be fired or end up in the hospital.

A wave a darkness crashed through the room as John growled out “Find me who by the time I’m back from retrieving my wife.” His orders were clear as crystal as he rushed from the room, Simon, his number two following swiftly after him.

“My horse Simon.” John grunted pulling out his pocket watch from his jacket. After years of being married to you, he always knew exactly where to find you based on the time of day it was or day of the week.

You thrived in order and schedules, one of the many things that he loved about you. Loved knowing he didn’t have to worry where you’d be at eleven in the morning. Always the drawing room catching up the on stitching you’ve been putting off, frustrated when the cross stitch didn’t form the absolute way you wanted it to.

Simon, ever the loyal to a fault number two replied quickly and lowly, “Yes Viscount.” He began to rush ahead of John making it to the stables before him and barking orders at the stable boys to fetch the masters horse and saddle. Price didn’t bother with riding clothes or shoes, simply latching his everyday boot into the stirrup and hoisting himself up into his horse.

“Shall I follow My Lord?” Simon asked head bowed as usual.

“If you wish.” John didn’t stick around after that, whipping his reigns and taking off on the beautiful brown stallion. “Come on boy, we’ve not got long before it rains!” John shouted to his horse as if the creature actually understood him, though in his fear he did not care.

The looks of the sky had him worried, the last time you went riding in the rain you caught pneumonia. He remembers how you shivered, how you were covered in sweat yet cold and how you burned to the touch. He never wishes to see you that way again. These thoughts had him pushing his horse harder to get to you faster. By the cherry tree you should be, and oh does he hope you are.

You however had just become done with your rage fit and were about to leave. Stupid Miss Carmichael, one of the bitchiest women in the ton. Not even married and yet she had the gall to mock you about not getting around to giving John a child yet. Joking about possible infertility, the words made you sick as did her audacity.

You had been married to your husband two years now and yes you were yet to bore him a child. Though the first year of your marriage, due to it being a simple arrangement, you spent it away from him. Always avoiding him, even on your wedding night you locked yourself in your room.

Though finally he managed to get you to open up to him, taught you many things, you began to love him. He had loved you however since the first moment he saw you. More so when you had advertently put him in his place after he was rude to a servant.

You had spent the second year, still getting to know each other and becoming one as husband and wife didn’t happen until three months ago. It had been essentially two years of little innocent hand touches here and there, longing looks and John standing too close to you at balls and events just so he could feel your warmth and smell your scent for longer. You were both still making up for lost time, having children was not at the forefront of your minds. Well not yours anyway.

You sighed glancing at the horse you’d rode here on, you’d best get back to join John for breakfast was your first thought. Even though it would take barely a minute for him to see you were upset and demand who had made you that way. You didn’t need to put your burden on him as much as he always insisted that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do as his wife.

Blinking up at the sky, you saw rain clouds rolling in and started to feel the drizzle of water falling down from above. Then a clap of thunder and you instantly regretted your decision to ride out here after your awful interaction with Miss Carmichael earlier. “Wonderful.” You sighed annoyed as you pulled your cloak hood over your head and made your way back to the black horse waiting patiently for you. One last look at the cherry tree and you set off into the eye of the storm.

“That’s it girl yah!” You whipped your reigns, both feet tight in the stirrups. You never rode side saddle like most women do, preferring to ride properly. Just as the cherry tree was almost out of a view, the most spectacular sight came bounding toward you. Your husband Viscount John Price gallantly riding his brown steed toward you.

“Darling!” His yell was so quiet in the midst of the rain and thunder, though it was enough to have you stopping your horse and remaining stationary as he began to slow down the closer to you he got.

Pulling on the reigns John came to a halt, horses next to one another legs touching. “Before you say anything,” you began blinking up at your handsome husband who was staring down at you heatedly, he nods encouraging you to go on. “It wasn’t raining when I started riding.”

You give him a smile, and despite the fact that you’re wet through, chilled to the bone, and as far as John is concerned in desperate need of a hot bath, he thinks you’re the most beautiful sight to behold. He smiles back leaning in close to you until his nose brushes against yours, his strong hand coming up to cup your jaw as he whispers into your mouth, looking you dead in the eyes.

“I’m not mad my love, but make no mistake, once you’re warm and dry I plan to bend you over my desk and fuck you from behind. Keep you stuffed with my cum all day, then you can tell me the reason for your riding today and who I need to talk to.”

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newtonsheffield · 9 months ago

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Molly, just look at how close they are holding each other compared to the other couples in the background. And Anthony looks like he's still in awe of her a year later.

The hilarious thing is Anthony has always been about maintaining no his family’s image in society. Season 1, that was his mission in life. Same to some extent in Season 2. He wanted to find a wife who would uphold the Bridgerton family name respectfully.

Now here he is, inviting His Beautiful Wife to do the regency equivalent of grinding followed by a slut drop.

Anthony, my man, no one’s going to take her off you again. I just know that this man has bodily stepped in front of other men talking to his wife in case it leads to a dance. And Kate probably lets him because he has a charming twinkle in his eye and she actually loves dancing with him. She kind of loves that while so many women’s husbands retire to drink brandy and gamble away the moment that should be set aside for their children if they even attend at all her husband is not.

Her husband has been kind to his sisters, commiserating that they don’t want to dance with foolish gentlemen and then he seeks her out. He finds time for her in his evening. She doesn’t even have to beg him to dance with her. It’s always his idea and the way he holds her still leaves her a little breathless, even a year into their marriage. He deposits her back with his mother or his brothers or sisters before he leans in and lets his lips brush her cheek before he murmurs in her ear.

“I’ll get you something to drink, Love. You look awfully flushed.”

There’s that annoying, cheeky, twinkle in his eyes when he pulls back, the same charming smile that slides right off his face when Benedict smirks,

“Can I have a drink, brother?”

Anthony blinked at him, “Of course you can. Fortunately, you’ve been blessed with two legs and two arms to fetch it yourself with.” He turned to the other ladies present. “Mother, Lady Danbury? Could Benedict and I fetch you a drink as well?”

Benedict grumbled something about being treated like a pack horse as Anthony tugged him away and the way Anthony winked at her before he left made her cheeks flush stupidly again. And it’s not long until the other ladies of the ton descend.

“Lady Bridgerton, we’ve not seen you since the wedding. The viscount seems… awfully enamored. Whatever is your trick?”

Kate laughed, feeling a little sad for these women who were never lucky enough to find the person who felt like their other half. She wouldn’t have done either were it not for a twist of fate. “There’s not any trick. He and I simply… enjoy one another’s company.”

“Lord, but isn’t it awfully hard work having him around all the time? Send him back to the country if you need a break.”

Kate bit off a surprised chuckle, “I must confess I’m yet to grow tired of him. Even when he’s a little grumpy he’s awfully amusing.”

“Ahh Ladies!” Anthony said as though having to fight through the crowd of women to get back to his wife was something that delighted him rather than annoyed him. “My dear brother was just saying how little he’d had to fortune to dance this evening. Perhaps you’ve your dance cards at the ready for him.”

Benedict looked as though he’d murder Anthony the next time they were alone and Kate didn’t bother to bite back her smile as Anthony giggled. The noise several years younger than he was. As though in this he was still the cheeky boy who’d helped his father put glue in Benedict’s shoes.

“And you? My Lord?”

Anthony sighed disappointedly, “I’m sorry to say that Lady Bridgerton has claimed all of my dances this evening.” He turned to Kate, grinning wickedly, “Love, you’re still looking flushed. Perhaps you should drink your lemonade in the fresh air.”

Kate nodded, “I think so, Darling.”

He tucked her hand into his arm, one hand still holding her glass and swept her away towards the garden without another word.

“Benedict is going to be cross with you.”

Anthony giggled again, “yes, he is. Especially because the actual conversation we had involved him asking you to dance to avoid those very women.”

“You’re feeling very cheeky tonight.”

Anthony let out a faux gasp. “Nonsense… I simply thought you might prefer to… inspect the maze in Lady Trowbridge’s garden. There’s some very… dark parts to it. I might need help noticing the flowers.”

“Yes, I suppose you will. You best show me then.”

As soon as they were out of sight, Anthony picked her up and ran into the maze.

#kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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telekinetictrait · 1 year ago

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"There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor." (A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens, 1847)

surprise!!! here's some boys for y'all!

fashion just... didn't change as much or as drastically for men as it did for women. there's a few reasons for this, like the association of fashion with women, that fashion was one of few accepted ways of women's expression, that the way men were dressed was under less of a microscope... etc. etc. also, a lot of top hats were worn pretty much through the century, but i kept on forgetting them :(

1800s directory

cc links under the cut!

see my resources page for genetics

aleksander and anatoly : peebsplays' unrequited hair + regency activist outfit / historicalsimslife's regency suit + standhardheld's made for walkin' boots

barthélémy and burton : thesimsblues' brutus hair + get famous outfit / vampires outfit + standardheld's made for walkin' boots

cecil and ciprian : cliffirem's gavin hair + niksims vampireprincess sideburns recolor + peebsplays' collins regency set + standardheld's made for walkin' boots / happylifesims' vincent fashion set + suit

dalton and dylan : johnnysimmer's chris hair + niksims vampireprincess sideburns recolor + joliebean's viago outfit + vampires boots / happylifesims' 1830s greatcoat

edwin and elmer : johnnysimmer's vevesims' elias hair update + peebsplays' baby chops + historicalsimslife's authoritative aristocrat suit + mmoutfitters' fancy feet shoe recolor / happylifesims' 1840s suspenders outfit + horse ranch gloves + base game boots

ferdinand and frazier : plumbobteasociety's elm hair + simmerofthedawn's top hat evening recolor + peebsplays' albert facial hair + batsfromwesteros's victorian daywear with jacket (royalthornolia chronicles purple patterned recolor) + vampires boots / simmerofthedawn's top hat day recolor + theroyalthornoliachronicles' night at the opera set

gavril and godefrid : peebsplays' bertram facial hair + pandorasimbox's azariah sacksuit + base game boots / ameyasims' invested vest + pants recolor

harlan and hershel : igorstory's franz facial hair + batsfromwesteros' franz joseph hunting hat + lady-moriel's bureaucrat set + plumbobteasociety's foxtrot shoes / simmerofthedawn's top hat day recolor + linzlu's timely overcoat + ameyasims' invested pants recolor

idris and ira : kocatmeow's daryl hair + igorstory's franz facial hair + sylvanes' mysterious lord coat (tsr download) + plumbobteasociety's foxtrot shoes / chere-indolente's vanzetti's chore coat + ameyasims' invested pants recolor

jerome and judah : johnnysimmer's vevesims' luciano hair update + igorstory's brute facial hair + simmerofthedawn's top hat day recolor + lollaleeloo's victorian suit (tsr download) + plumbobteasociety's foxtrot shoes / simmerofthedawn's top hat evening recolor + vintagesimstress' 1896 cutaway frock suit + mmoutfitters' fancy feet shoe recolor

thank you to @peebsplays @historicalsimslife @thesimsblues @cliffirem @lost-my-plumbbob-in-your-pond @happylifesimsreblogs @johnnysimmer @joliebean @mmoutfitters @plumbobteasociety @simmerofthedawn @batsfromwesteros @theroyalthornoliachronicles @pandorasimbox @ameyasims @igorstory @lady-moriel @linzlu @lunenore @chere-indolente @lollaleeloosstuff @vintagesimstress

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the-suns-a-tube · 2 years ago

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The Mechanisms as American Duchess Shoes

Jonny:

Camille Women's Edwardian Boots (Brown/Tan)

Nastya:

Rainey Women's Vintage Lace-Up Boots (Black)

Skuzz:

Emma Women's Regency Leather Boots (Black)

Ashes:

Londoner Women's Edwardian Oxfords (Black)

Ivy:

Tavistock Women's Victorian Button Boots (Oxblood)

Brian:

Noble Men's Vintage Lace-Up Boots (Black)

TS:

Gladys Women's Vintage Cap Toe Oxfords (Black)

Tim:

Hazel Women's Vintage Pumps (Black)

Raph:

Berties Regency Pumps (Green)

Marius:

Cambridge Women's Edwardian Bicycle Boots (Burgundy/Black)

#the mechanisms #the mechs #american duchess #jonny d'ville #nastya rasputina #scuzz nishimura #ashes o’reilly #ivy alexandria #drumbot brian #the toy soldier #gunpowder tim #raphaella la cognizi #marius von raum

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whatthefishh · 1 year ago

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bloom for me

Series Masterlist

Regency Santiago Garcia x f!reader

A/N: Reader has a nickname (Wis) because I thought it flowed better with a title considering the regency times. Forgive me for historical inaccuracies it’s all fun and games here 😭🩷

Warnings: this chapter will have mentions of sex, pining, probably cringe writing, idk I just need to put this out there, be gentle pls. This has a real plot I promise lmao.

Words: 3k

He’s brooding again. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if he wasn’t so outwardly affected by his inner thoughts, whatever they may be. So now, you’re stuck standing next to the most disagreeable man at this week’s ball, patiently awaiting someone amiable to come and rescue you with a dance or two.

“Stand taller, you look like you want to leave.”

“Funny, coming from a man who needs a cane to walk before the sun starts to set.”

Sharply turning his head to cast you a withering look before anyone was the wiser, you started fanning yourself to hide the smirk you were sporting. You knew exactly how to rile him up and he hated you for it. He looked ridiculously handsome even while angrily grumbling to himself about your manners. Unfortunately for you, his outward appearance had more than fooled you into believing he was quite possibly the prettiest man you’d ever seen. His black curls slightly greying, and the tanned skin of his neck defining the muscles you were sure spread far over his whole body, the very same muscles you tried not to eye in his fitted pantaloons. Not even his desirability could make up for how he got under your skin, however, how quickly he could make your blood boil with just a few words. Besides, he was such a disagreeable man that it would be such a misfortune to be liked by him. To think, you have to spend the whole season with him for company.

Santiago Garcia was a well respected, strong willed and overall charming man of the military - well, he was an ex-lieutenant, to your father actually. A shot in the leg worsened into such a state that he could not sustain another call to fight, leaving him walking with a cane on particularly bad days. Injury in the field will bring a soldier home quicker than a woman in waiting. Not that he had one of those either. A charming man, Santiago was highly favoured by the women of the town due to his roguish good looks and silver tongue. The man could easily sway a crowd of people to follow him into the river if he so pleased.

His brave acts during his time in the British Army, although risky, yielded him high praise amongst the upper levels of society upon his return. So much so, that your newly widowed father, the Colonel, had apparently taken quite a liking to him in the times they’ve interacted. Your father had taken this liking one step further than most would, inviting Santiago into your spacious home upon his arrival. Not only does the man standing next to you sleep under the same roof as you, but has also been tasked as your personal chaperone for the marriage season. How they came to this agreement over post-dinner brandy is lost on you but regardless, you couldn’t bring yourself to be honest with your father, bile rising in your throat at the thought of crushing any friendship he found comfort in after the passing of your mother.

Your mother.

Your father spent a lot of time overseas, giving space for the love you had for your mother to grow beyond measure. He was quick to spoil you, however, finding it easier to show his affection with the latest fashion, shoes, jewellery, ribbons for your hair, chocolates from overseas, and chocolates from in town; he would give it all if only you looked at him. Your mother, however, was basically your best friend. The two of you spent hours in the family greenhouse, teaching you all about her love of botany until you were old enough to start growing your favourite flowers without her help. She tragically passed during the winter, the harsh cold taking hold of her lungs until she couldn’t bear it anymore. The nickname she gave you stuck, however, and in the months following her passing, you refused to be acknowledged by another title.

“May I request the lady’s presence to have the honour of the next dance?” a new voice pulled you out of your stupor, looking up to see a decently handsome young man extending his hand towards you.

“No, you may not, I’m afraid her dance card is already full.” Santiago answered for you, not only shutting down your new suitor, but fixing him with a stare so intense he was shaking as he quickly nodded and turned to leave. You could see him return to his support group, the other boys clapping him on the back for trying regardless of the intimidating gargoyle meant to guard you. Ironically, your dance card was not full, unless you counted Santiago’s own name on every line. Not that he ever danced with you.

You sighed heavily. Another wasted night, getting dressed up for a party in which you were just going to be rejecting any poor man who had the gall to approach and ask for a dance. This isn’t the first time he spoke for you, harshly turning someone down before you could get the words out on your own.

You suppose that’s what he thinks is his job, as your chaperone of the season. Your father trusted Santiago’s judgement of character to filter out potential suitors but as of now, it seemed, that he was just saying no for the heck of it.

“Don’t look so put out, Miss Wisteria,” Santiago murmured next to you, the nickname falling off his tongue smoothly. “This way, you leave them all wanting. Besides, I looked into most of these men. That one has debts at the racing club that he has yet to pay out.”

Even though he had a point, you couldn’t help but be envious of the girls whose mothers were at the party with them, encouraging dancing and interaction. You had gotten yourself ready with the help of your best handmaidens, taking their opinions for your outfit with zeal. You grew up without siblings, thus enjoying the friendly conversation you had with the house staff. Not that anyone outside the household knew how close you were with them, the notion of a lonesome girl without a mother, so desperate for human interaction that she reach beneath her status.

Coming downstairs in a soft lilac dress, the tulip sleeves and neckline lined with tiny sparkling beads, matching the delicate crystal necklace you donned to bring the look together. Your maid had also added some shimmering hair pins to your updo, only visible from the back of your head, which was your favourite part of your outfit. You felt rather pretty, and by the way Santiago had stared, slightly slack-jawed at you descending the staircase before collecting himself, you thought maybe he thought so, too. That was before he opened his mouth to complain about being on time and reminded you why you disliked him so.

“I was not aware of his debts. Thank you, I suppose.”

“Yes, well… that is why I am here, is it not? Your father asked me to—”

“My father asked you what exactly? Because I still don’t recall ever being told why he had to go and ask someone with the likes of you for help in this matter!” You whispered back vehemently.

“Do you truly esteem me so little?”

His soft voice betrayed his hurt, causing you to stop and look up at him in shock. This wasn’t so far off from your usual tone towards him, the two of you often bickering under your breath in the presence of others. Trying to gauge his true feelings by gazing into his espresso eyes, you concluded that maybe you were being too harsh on him. Maybe this wasn’t the ideal way he’d rather spend his time at a ball, supervising a girl’s courting experience and vetting the bachelors. No, he would probably be with the other gentlemen his age, swatting away the interested women like fleas in monsoon season.

You took a second to look at him for any tell of a lie, any sign he wasn’t as offended as you initially had thought, but the longer you looked at him the more distracted you got. Taking in the stoic man’s face, the crinkles around his eyes, the darkening shadow across his jaw as his hair was growing in, it all suited him so well that it almost had you even more angry at him for his beauty. Santiago was not that much older than you when you thought about it, probably somewhere under a decade of difference, which was not uncommon in some marriages.

Marriages? You thought with a slight panic, whipping your head to look back at the crowd, fanning yourself a little faster now. The moment had slipped from your glove-covered hands, whatever pull there was keeping your eyes trained on him you had snapped free from. In good timing, it seems, as another pathetic attempt at asking for a turn around the room was making his way towards you both. You could almost hear Santiago’s groan before the gentleman stopped in front of you, offering you a charming smile.

“Mr. Garcia,” the gentleman bowed his head to both of you after addressing you as well. “Might I have this dance?”

“Are you asking Mr. Garcia, or myself?” you ask with a short laugh, seeing as he had posed the question to your companion.

The man gave a genteel smile. “I was trying to be respectful of the present company. I know Mr. Garcia hasn’t danced all evening so this might be a chance to find him a partner.”

Your eyes flit to your companion, silently pleading with him to let at least one attempt slide past his defences.

Santiago looked at you for a moment, clearly seeing the hopefulness in your eyes before turning his eyes back on the gentleman in front of you, seemingly having come to a decision.

“Lord Miller, you make a fair judgement. I do not usually partake in such diversions, although I have been complimented on my light footedness. Miss Wisteria, if you wish to dance with Lord Miller, we shall take our leave soon after.”

The way your mother called you Wisteria oftentimes was much different to the way Santiago has been calling you that, and you tried not to think about it for too long.

Although Santiago’s words were light and jovial, you could tell from the set of his brow that he still was not entirely comfortable with the arrangement. That didn’t stop you from nearly jumping at the opportunity to dance with the handsome Lord, smiling graciously as you accepted his still-extended hand.

Making your way to the dance floor, you noticed more than a few pairs of eyes on you, probably wondering how Lord Miller made it past your sleeping dragon keeping you locked away in your proverbial tower. Keeping your chin up and not letting their eyes make you stumble, you took position for the dance.

“I will admit, Miss Wisteria, I find myself in raptures over your acceptance of this dance.”

“You flatter me, Lord Miller.”

“I cannot help it. You look exceptionally beautiful tonight. Also, if I may be so bold, I have seen how you’ve longed to dance, and thus, I took it upon myself to brave the glower of your guardian and rescue you.”

You laughed heartily at that. The conversation continued with Lord Miller discussing your shared interests in literature and past travels, and how many balls you both attended in the past two weeks alone. Lord Miller was an excellent dancer, making you feel as though you barely had to put in any effort to be gliding around the dance floor.

—

Santiago tried his best not to stare, he really did, but the way you let your head fall back in a carefree laugh at something the Lord had said to you had captured his attention unwillingly.

The thing was, you see, he was not supposed to be wanting after his ward, temporary or not. He was not supposed to watch longingly after you, walking away from him, whisked away by another more suitable potential partner, or at any other time when you weren’t watching him. He was also not supposed to jerk himself off to the thought of you in his bed, under your father’s roof, imagining how tight and wet you would be for him, how loud you would moan his name. Would you let him worship you with his hands and mouth? Would you still fight with him during the act or would you go pliant under his devoted attention?

You were a constant thorn in his side, reminding him at every chance of the magnitude of your dislike for him, your eyes meeting his angrily during your daily spats. You never gave him a chance to earn your friendship, immediately jumping to hostility once the news of him chaperoning you for the season had reached your ears. How was he to refuse your father, the generous man who offered him access to his estate as if he were a long lost son and not an old colleague? Besides, he didn’t think much of it at the time, assuming it would be an easy feat, the world of courting running its own gears for longer than he has been in the game.

Frankly, he assumed there would be at least one meddling old croon trying to pair everyone up for the season based on her predictions but she had yet to turn up to help him along.

Santiago didn’t see his attraction to you getting in the way of finding you a suitable match, but unfortunately for him, he was wading through a pool of pathetic potentials, finding a reason to reject them at every turn. It was becoming increasingly difficult to give reason for their inadequacy, not wanting to hand you off to a lesser man.

Every ball you attended together, every promenade you walked with him trailing behind you, he was doomed to watch the men flirt with you, make you laugh, share lingering glances with, and every day felt more tortuous than the last. He learned a lot about you this way, but it never felt enough. He was stuck as an observer, watching from the outside.

Was this his destiny? To fall hopelessly for his friend’s daughter and not only watch her dance with other men but be the one to hand her off to them, lying through his teeth about his feelings on the matter?

It especially did not help his case with how ethereal you looked tonight, or any night for that matter. He could not count the number of times he has thought back to that first night he stayed in your home, running into you on your way to the greenhouse at night with your white nightgown. It was basically see through, the candle you were holding sinfully illuminating your figure, nipples pebbled in the cool air. He had been on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water, being unable to sleep properly in his new chambers. You nearly dropped it when you bumped into him around the corner, his hand steadying you before you could, saving you from waking up the whole house. Santi wanted to kiss you silly every day since then.

Bringing his focus back to the present, he heard the quartet queuing up for the next song and soon saw Miller escort you back to him with your hand tucked into his arm. You were positively beaming, shifting your eyes to his with a question posed on your lips.

“Lord Miller was just telling me how he and his brother often go for boat rides on the lake near town. He has invited us to accompany him on an outing tomorrow afternoon if it is agreeable with you?”

You were blinking at him meaningfully, alerting him to the fact that they were waiting for his response on the matter. The longer he took to answer, the more stilted the silence between the three of them and the worse chance it was for you to leave the season with a suitable partner. A throat cleared, snapping Santiago out of his stupor.

“A turn about the lake sounds splendid for tomorrow! We would be delighted.” Santiago tried not to sound like he was bursting from happiness at this turn of events but he also knew that on paper, Lord Miller was of good stock and well in stature, making him a fine potential suitor for you.

“Wonderful, thank you, Mr. Garcia,” Miller bowed his head to him first before turning to you to bid you goodnight. “I am dearly looking forward to tomorrow.” He said the necessary pleasantries before leaving you two to stew in the silent aftermath.

The rest of the night passed rather normally, Santiago fetching you refreshments when your hands emptied, and before you knew it, you were finding yourself in the carriage on your way home. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was encouraging you to drink more so as to be able to get you to use the ladies’ room more, effectively removing you from wandering eyes.

The two of you didn’t speak much out of obligatory words, you were too excited about the prospect of a turn on the lake, and he was worried with a stone in his stomach about the same idea. Escaping to your respectful chambers, you were so wrapped up in your daydreams you barely said goodnight, leaving Santiago deeply unsettled and barely able to catch a wink of sleep.

Whether he was ready for it or not, tomorrow was arriving sooner than he wanted.

#bloom for me fic #santiago garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia imagine #santiago garcia fic #Santiago pope garcia fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier fanfic

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orangflowalober · 1 year ago

Text

Blessed-Cursed

Pairing: Park Sunghoon x Reader

Genre: regency au; isekai au; prince!sunghoon; princess!reader

Summary: Being Crown Princess sounds fun from a modern-day point of view, no? Wrong. Wrong on so many levels. Starting from the fact that you had fight with your hands and legs to do certain things all over to marriage. Yuck. So how do you suppose one acts when their biggest secret is revealed to someone who has the power to have you executed?

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: sharp objects - swords, arrows, daggers; marriage; mushy stuff; implications of hunting animals; death of a bear by reader's hand; let me know if I missed anything!

Series: Enhypen Regency AU

Pinterest board: <3

Spotify playlist (songs I listened to while writing / had in mind while writing) : <3

You didn’t want marriage.

You didn't want to rule beside another.

You wanted to be the Queen who married her nation.

…

What a dramatic way of saying that you wanted to be Elizabeth the First of this world.

Oh. Right. England doesn’t exist in this world. Or like… any other country that exists on planet Earth.

Anyway. Your name is Lim Anestasia of the Lim Kingdom. However… your real name… is y/n l/n.

You do not hail from this world and yet here you are, living in the shoes of a spoiled princess who could get anything she wanted.

Dying really do be a unique experience.

When you first opened your eyes in this body it was ten years old. You cried. You cried for so long. Women dressed in uniforms of what you assumed were maids rushed in to comfort you and help you stop crying. You couldn’t stop. You didn’t recognise anything or anyone. You don’t remember when was the last time you felt so alone. That only made you cry harder. It wasn’t until a woman with beautiful long brown hair and a worried look on her face came in, that you started to calm down even just a slight bit. After all… your brain recognised the woman as your dearest mother. You cried in her arms for a long time, but in the end… you felt so much better. Now you just pretend that day never happened.

You spent the next two weeks in a daze, looking about and recalling all the memories of your past and present life. Then you realised something. There was a whole mediaeval world out there for you to explore… yet you remain stuck within these walls of a cold and almost empty castle… So you set out back to your room and made a list.

As a Queen to be, there were some issues you wanted to settle. Making a list seemed like the right choice. You were ten now so no one would truly take you seriously and this was fine. It gave you time to plot and plan. But first… for the next few years you would indulge yourself and learn some sports you have had the wish to learn back in your day but hadn’t the opportunity to do so.

The list read:

1. Learn how to be a brilliant archer!

2. Learn the art of the sword!

3. Learn how to be a great horseback rider!

4. Teach yourself everything you can about the kingdom!

5. Start taking interest in politics!

6. Settle dominance so your parents don’t try to set you up at 14.

7. Steer clear of men in general

8. Try and turn away as many suitors as possible!

9. More to be added

Grinning to yourself you put away the stationary and folded the paper neatly. You would hide it in your room in one of the many books you owned.

“Mother. Father.” You greeted, approaching them in the throne room, curtsying in your pale green dress.

“Anastasia,” your mother greeted with a smile gracing her face, “What brings you here my precious daughter?”

“I wish to learn archery.”

The King looked horrified.

Archery wasn’t very lady-like after all. Or any kind of sport, really.

“My dear daughter-”

Welp, you thought, time to pull out the big guns.

You stomped your foot and sniffed.

“But Father!” you yelled through the tears, “I wish to learn archery and I wish to do it NOW!”

You sniffed again and softly glared at the man on the throne who looked to be panicking.

“Of course my dearest!” he responded quickly with a wobbly smile.

Well he switched up fast you thought.

“Really?” you switched up as well, deciding to play the role of a shy child, “thank you” you whispered softly, but loud enough for your parents to hear. You curtsied and left for the library where you would read up on the history of your country.

As you grew older, you learned more and more.

By the time you were fifteen you mastered the bow, horseback riding and were well into practice with the sword. Your “love” for studying never faltered and you kept at it relentlessly going through tutors at break-neck speed.

When you turned eighteen, you started getting involved in the rule of your land (with the help of your parents, naturally) and continuously impressed them with your knowledge and how mature and ambitious you were. You mastered the art of the sword and started practising with daggers. It seemed fun so far.

Other than all of these impressive achievements, you seemed to rather… lack… in the department of social relations.

Due to the fact that you spent a lot of time either with your nose in a book or practising with a new weapon you picked up, you haven’t had the time to make good acquaintances with the children of other royal families or nobles. At most you could say that you and the prince of the Kim Kingdom were close acquaintances. Sunoo was a rather interesting character whom you had not much trouble interacting with. You even occasionally exchanged letters.

Other than him there was princess Yeji of the Hwang Kingdom, but that was limited only to the balls you both attended.

As such, you haven’t had many suitors, which worried your parents and only served to make you happier.

While you were happy as things were, your parents unfortunately were rather persistent.

“My dearest daughter,” you heard your mother sigh for the nth time that month, as you readied your arrow, “you already turned of age years ago, you must at least look for potential suitors…”

You knocked the arrow. Bullseye.

“It is not my fault all of them are too afraid to even speak to me, mother.”

“What about Sunoo then?” she asked and this time you sighed, “How does he speak so freely with you?”

“You know as well as I do that, we do not speak freely with each other. And besides, we’ve known each other for years.”

“My darling Anastasia,” your mother sighed, taking your filthy hands into hers, “for your mother’s sake,” she whispered, “please, look for a fine suitor. I know that there must be someone who will catch your eye this time. Please my darling daughter.”

She knew you were weak to her pleading. Courtesy of your close bond both with your mother in your old life and this one. You agreed.

It was the first mistake you could have made.

You honestly didn’t mean to sound so full of yourself when you said that you were probably the best dressed person at the ball for your birthday.

Simplicity is what will most often catch the eye of others, is something you liked to think. This time was no exception.

The dress you wore was a light pink and it reflected the light due to its shiny material. It was long and flowy, which was brilliant because it meant you could move freely, and you didn’t have to wear petticoats. You honestly did love them, but they were, oh so, impractical. The dress had a sweetheart neckline with off the shoulder sleeves. It was tightened around your waist and made your chest look bigger than it actually was, but what annoyed you was that you had to breathe rather shallowly. From the waist down the skirt flowed freely and dramatically.

As they announced your name you walked into the ball with a slight smile and nodded at the present guests before you stepped down the staircase to join the party.

You've managed to stay at the party chatting with anyone and everyone who approached you for a whole hour before your social battery completely died out and you were seconds away from starting to behave like you used to, back home. In the modern world.

“Prince Sunoo,” you spoke to the boy next to you. “Would you mind if I made a quick escape to regain my composure?” you asked with a dazzling smile.

The chubby cheeked boy next to you giggled at how direct you were.

"Why of course, princess Anastasia” he purred with a playful grin, “I shall wait for you here!"

You nodded gratefully at him and swiftly made your way through the crowd and at the back entrance into the beautiful garden your mother loved most.

Sitting down on the grey store bench in front of the small lake filled with water lilies. At least they looked like water lilies.

Sighing, you then placed your fan down onto the seat next to you and reached behind your back to pull on the string which held the corset together and took a deep breath.

Time for my annual rant session, you thought to yourself.

"Marriage" you spat bitterly, allowing yourself to go nuts with anger.

“Why do I have to marry anyone?!? Why is that so bloody important?!" you yelled into the sky, throwing your hands into the air. “Do I have to marry to be Queen?! I mean come on!”

Getting lost in your emotions you failed to realise someone was standing at the entrance of the garden, listening to every word you spoke, slowly making their way towards you.

You groaned loudly as your voice took on a sad, desperate tone.

“Mom… I miss you so much…” you sobbed, “I miss my little sister too… that annoying little stinker…” you sobbed even louder, taking your gloves off to wipe your tears away.

“I miss those stupid gatcha games too” you laughed wetly, “Cookie Run… Genshin… Honkai… both Honkai games actually…” you mumbled the last bit, picking at your freshly manicured nails.

“Why me?” you whispered, sniffing a little.

A crunch of leaves caused you to turn around from your spot on the bench, eyes wide as you faced the intruder.

The man who stood in front of you was possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen and you knew absolutely nothing about him.

His jet black hair was in rough contrast with his pale complexion. He wore a dark blue waistcoat with golden accents and pure white pants along with knee-deep boots.

His eyes and face was what held your attention at most.

He seemed not to mind your current state, but rather… he looked worried.

You two kept looking at each other, too startled to speak.

Then you remembered what you looked like; mussed hair, undone corset, puffy face and runny nose and you weren't wearing your gloves.

“Are you alright?” he finally spoke, his rumbling and melodic voice sounding genuinely concerned about your wellbeing, extending his hand towards you.

Quickly, you scrambled to stand up, pushing your hand against your corset to keep it in place and responded to him.

“How much did you hear?”

He blinked confused, his hand stopping in its tracks.

“Pardon?”

“I asked;” your voice was high with panic now, “how much of that did you hear?” you felt as though your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“Is that really that important right now?” a seemingly sly smile played on his lips, his hand gently taking hold of your wrist.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you made eye contact with him.

It wasn’t simply because you felt attracted to him. On the contrary, attractive men didn't seem to make your heart skip a beat in this life. It was simple enough really; you were scared.

If he was influential enough, could he get you thrown out of the family? Would you lose everything? Again? Your heart wouldn't be able to stand that.

“P… p-please” you cussed yourself silently for stuttering, while a smile grew on his lips at your mistake, “don't… don't tell anyone!”

You yanked your hand out of his gentle hold and ran back into the castle ignoring his stare and completely forgetting about your gloves sitting on the bench.

After you had made sure you were presentable you went back to the ball room only to see that it was only just now in full swing. You took a deep breath and set off to find Sunoo.

“Princess Anastasia!” you heard someone call.

Turning around, you were met with the smiley face of the Crown Prince of the Park Kingdom.

“Prince Jay” you curtsied, extending your hand for him to take, “it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

The tall, blond man grinned as he pressed a kiss to your gloved hand.

“As it is mine Princess.”

Park “Jay” Jongseong. The Crown Prince of the Park Kingdom. He was smart, cunning and straightforward. That was not mentioning how kind and generous he was. Last you heard he was to be married soon before he assumed the throne of the Park Kingdom.

Again with the whole marriage thing…

“I must admit Princess, I only came to introduce myself and wish you a happy birthday with ulterior motives.” he smiled sheepishly.

“Oh?” you grinned playfully, resting your fan on your bare shoulder.

“I am afraid so” Jay laughed, “You see my brother is rather… shy.” he admitted awkwardly and continued, “But he really wanted to wish you a happy birthday, so I thought I would help him out.”

You smiled with soft eyes.

Jay had a younger brother. Well. “Younger” brother.

The circumstances regarding the two were rather unclear as it was never disclosed into the public eye, but the two had such a close bond it felt awful to speculate just about anything. And so, no one ever pried. The two brothers were, after all, the pride and joy of the Park Kingdom.

“How very nice of you” you hummed thinking of your younger sister in your past life.

“I do try” he smiled gently, noticing your reaction.

“Princess Anastasia,” you heard someone behind you.

As you turned around, your eyes widened scarily wide as you made eye contact with the man from the garden.

“I am Prince Sunghoon” he introduced himself with a slight bow of his head, his hand resting against where his heart was.

Lagging behind, you quickly curtsied and offered him your hand.

He took it gently, impossibility so, and pressed a feather light kiss against your knuckles, never breaking eye contact with you.

Jay, noticing what was going on, made a quiet escape leaving the two of you alone.

You were too scared and entranced with the man in front of you to notice anything.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Princess.” he spoke slowly, still not letting go of your hand, but you haven’t noticed that yet.

“Likewise” you awkwardly smiled, your heart beating out of your chest in fear.

Sunghoon's eyes glinted in mischief, which caused you to shift under his piercing gaze uncomfortably.

The music which was playing in the background slowly came to a stop and the man in front of you smiled as he turned to face you.

“May I have this dance, Princess?” he asked, lifting your hand higher in the air.

Meanwhile, your brain was an absolute mess. You had no idea what was going on, what this man was plotting or what he could do if you even looked at him wrong.

He currently has the potential to have you sent away.

You couldn’t take that chance.

“Yes,” you spoke slowly, “you may.”

With a bright smile, the tall man led you over to the dance floor.

All eyes were on you as for the first time ever, you joined someone other than your father for a dance.

You were anxious and terrified.

The man opposite you stopped somewhere off the centre of the dancing area and faced you properly.

His gentle smile was throwing you off track and you couldn’t focus on anything but trying not to tick him off.

Letting go of your hand, he placed it on your waist and took your other hand, while you placed a hand on his shoulder.

His giddiness at your action didn’t miss you and it made you nervous.

“Why do you look so nervous, Princess?” he asked with a grin.

Offering him an awkward smile you responded.

“Ah, no! It’s just…” you began as the music started and Sunghoon gently pulled you into a slow waltz.

“I’ve never danced like this with anyone but my father…”

The dark haired man nodded thoughtfully.

“My mistake,” he smiled, twirling you with a mesmerising smile on his face. “I thought it had something to do with our fateful meeting in the garden.”

Had you not returned back into his arms, you are sure you would have fainted.

“Speaking of which,” he continued as if he hadn’t noticed your discomfort, “you left something back there.”

You looked up at him with panicked eyes, not noticing his blush as he recounted the events.

If he says something to someone I’m doomed! You panicked. What did I even leave?!

“I took the liberty of taking them so I could hand them to you now” he spoke, as if your whole world hasn’t turned upside down.

Plural?! You wanted to scream.

“Them?” you couldn’t help but voice.

“Yes…” he hummed bashfully, as he leaned down to whisper into your ear, “You left your gloves behind Princess…”

Cold sweat broke out all over as you remembered what that means in this world.

Much like that one scene in Jane Austen’s book "Pride and Prejudice" with Mr. Darcy and Ms. Elizabeth, touching a lady without her gloves presented an extremely intimate act in this world.

You cussed internally.

At this point, you weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry.

“I will leave them in the corridor once the crowds dissipate” He continued, not minding the eyes which were trained on your forms, “You just make sure your maids find them.”

Oh, so, conveniently, the song and dance ended and Sunghoon disappeared into the crowd just as quickly as he had appeared, but not before placing another kiss on the back of your hand.

You liked to think what had happened during your birthday hasn’t affected you.

That is a lie.

It has.

You just pretend it didn’t.

After the dance, your mother sent you questioning glances, but you avoided them like the plague until she stopped.

There was another issue, however.

You suddenly began noticing him. And he was everywhere.

A birthday celebration of a noble? He was there.

A charity event for the children of the Lim-Kim region? He was there.

Tournament competition in arts and such? He was bloody there.

And if he could manage to sneak in a dance he would. Every. Single. Time.

At this point, the only time you didn’t see him is when you were avoiding everyone and camping out in the library or in your room.

As summer passed and made way for fall, the Lim Kingdom started preparing for the bi-annual Huntsmen Competition.

The bi-annual Huntsmen Competition was held by the Crown for the nobles and other royals of the lands to show off their skills and gain public favour.

A problem has risen this year though…

“We cannot hold the Competition in the Twilight Forest this year” the King announced. “The animal sources are scarce and we risk endangering the ecosystem if we continue to hunt there.”

After much begging and tantrums, he had finally let you participate in these talks. And in the competition, of course.

I'm going to wipe the floor with those losers, you cackled internally, before focusing back onto the conversation at hand.

“... so in line with that I would recommend the Fiery Forest in the south.” one of the older councilmen huffed out.

"That wouldn't be a smart decision" you hummed in reply, looking at the map, "I propose we request the Kim Kingdom to collaborate using the Spring forests we share at our borders. Our relations are better and they won't try to use this to their advantage.”

Your father and everyone else at the table looked lost for words, before turning to the map in front of them.

“My god, she’s right!”

“Who would have thought?”

Briefly, you saw your father's proud expression as you participated in the conversation even more than before.

Being fashionably late is probably your favourite thing to do in this world. And as the Crown Princess, no one had the right to comment on it.

You strutted toward your tent feeling eyes on your figure.

Why wouldn't they be staring at you anyway?

You were wearing mens attire.

The pants you wore were fitted and black, squeezing around your waist. Tucked into the pants was your favourite flowy white shirt and hanging off your hips was a majestic bastard sword. That was not to mention your favourite bow waiting for you in your tent.

As soon as it was time to set off into the forest, you took the reins of your black horse Stormy and got going when you heard the sound of the horn.

Riding on the back of the horse, you fired arrows, as soon as you caught sight of a moving hide.

By the end of it, you weren’t the best, but you were third best.

You also couldn't help but notice how Prince Sunghoon smiled the brightest when you approached the third place podium.

That was your second mistake.

The last time you were in a daze was when you were ten. It's been so long since then that you've forgotten just how easily the feeling creeps up on you.

“Princess Anastasia,” his gentle voice shook you out of your reverie, “It's delightful to see you again.”

You didn’t turn to face him, choosing to only lift your fan up to your face.

“Likewise” you quickly responded, finding that this time you didn’t quite find his mere presence bothersome.

The man hurried to walk in step with you.

“Princess,” he called and the title suddenly felt a lot more like a term of endearment from your past life, “you always say that, yet I feel as though you do not mean it as truthfully as I do.”

You kept quiet, wondering how you could even respond to such a claim.

“You enjoy nature I presume?” he quickly changed the subject. “It seems that every time you and I see each other it is in the gardens.” he smiled softly.

You were currently taking a break from all of the hard work you were putting into studying and practising.

As a little treat, you thought you could visit one of the more popular gardens in the Kingdom of Lee. They were, after all, most popular for their wide arrangement of flora.

And these flowers and plants never ceased to take your breath away and heal your eyes at the same time.

“Oh… yes, I suppose I do…” you hummed, “It’s rather… calming. I feel at ease to think and the colours soothe my eyes.”

The beautiful man next to you nodded and hummed, looking at you as if encouraging you to speak more.

“You see, I do enjoy reading all the books our library has to offer, but my eyes do hurt after spending too much time in my study…”

“You have your own study?” he asked with an intrigued spark in his eyes.

When you looked at him, you were taken aback by the sheer boyishness radiating from that expression, that you felt the back of your neck heat up.

“I-” you stuttered, “I do. I mean-” you turned away from him swiftly to catch yourself, “As the future Queen, I must ready myself for the incoming troubles of ruling the Kingdom and be a respectable ruler.” you explained.

His head cocked to the side, almost reminiscent of a pupper.

“You do not plan on sharing those burdens with anyone?”

You eyed him.

“You mean marriage?” you spat out the last word venomously. “I will refuse it for as long as I can. Besides,” you huffed, forgetting yourself, “it’s not like I met anyone worthy of marrying me.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

A snort sounded from next to you and you turned startled towards Prince Sunghoon. He held his hand up to his mouth, eyes wrinkled into crescents and he was slightly turned away from you.

“I-” he laughed lightly, his face twisted to make room for his wide smile, “I do not mean to laugh at your- It is only- the delivery-” he kept giggling, unable to finish a single thought.

You only stared at him in awe, your opinion of him changing subconsciously.

“You Highness, Prince Sunghoon,” a butler called from behind you, “Your brother has requested your presence back in the castle.”

“I will be right there Ian,” he said, before turning to look at you, with an impossibly tender look in his eye, “I hope we see each other like this again” he spoke as he took your hand to place a kiss on it, “I had a great time and I hope you did too.”

And then he left.

It felt like a part of you left as well.

You have found yourself caught up in Prince Sunghoon’s- or rather, as he insists- Sunghoon’s arms, interlocked into the second dance of tonight.

The ball was a celebration of the spring solstice.

How you ended up in the dark-haired prince’s arms you also couldn’t quite remember.

You also didn’t realise just how funny he was whenever he talked back and you never realised your love for bickering.

You were having the time of your life.

People were sending you odd looks, seeing you enjoying yourself with the second Park son, seeing as you only ever spent time with the youngest Kim prince and even that was reserved.

But now, you were giggling, laughing and you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

Another plus to having Sunghoon’s company: no one was approaching you for mindless small-talk and mentions of marriage.

The Lee castle was beautiful but…

“I heard the Lee’s have the most beautiful garden…” Sunghoon told you with a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

He didn’t have to finish his thought. You already knew what he meant as he extended to you and you accepted it without another word.

Your baby blue dress fluttered behind you as you walked down the halls with Sunghoon, both of your shoes clacking against the marble flooring.

The dress had a deep V-neck and the sleeves extended past your hands, although it added to the snowy princess look.

This time, the maids took extra precaution to cinch your corset and if you couldn’t breathe then, you certainly couldn’t now that you saw the garden.

The snow had freshly melted and there were faint traces of buds all over the trees and plants.

But most of all the night sky seemed to take the cake.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn’t it?”

You turned towards the man who had made your night.

Sunghoon was not looking at the moon. His eyes looked as if someone had stolen all the affection in the world and put it in his eyes.

He looked beautiful being bathed in the moonlight. His pale shin was seemingly illuminated by the moonshine, a perfect contrast to his all-black attire.

“My…” you began, your head feeling as if it was stuffed full of cotton, “My real name is y/n.” you spoke before you could realise what you just said.

He looked stunned.

Then his hold on your hand tightened as suddenly words started tumbling out, past his soft lips, explaining his predicament in his family and his relationship with them.

He looked so vulnerable. You thought you looked the same way as well.

You pulled your hand back, out of his gentle hold, and he looked as if you had ripped his heart out of his chest. You merely pulled your gloves off, threw them somewhere behind you (which had pulled out a choked laugh from him) and you raised your arms to wipe the tears from his glass-like face.

He shuddered feeling your skin on his face and you shivered feeling his breath against your hands.

“I’m sorry” he let out as he enveloped you in a passionate embrace.

This, after all, was not appropriate for two people who weren’t engaged to be married.

The bi-annual Huntsmen Competition in the spring was, oddly enough, the most anticipated event of the season.

You supposed it had something to do with your appearance.

Hence, you practising day and night, night and day, to attempt to get the first place this time around.

Also, you knew Sunghoon was participating in this event and you want to impress him-

Ah right.

It is too early for the list of participants to have some out, so… how do you know?

Truth is, Sunghoon himself told you.

A development which had happened since the Spring Solstice Ball was that you and Sunghoon had started exchanging letters with what was going on in your lives lately.

It made you unnecessarily giddy and you couldn’t hide this from your nosy mother who realised you were getting letters every other day as opposed to once every two to three months.

She was, needless to say, thrilled.

But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was winning the competition to impress Sunghoon- no y/n stop.

This time around, the senators decided to change things up a little: they added an animal which automatically secures the huntsman first place. The animal in question is a grizzly bear. Yeah. A grizzly. It surprised you too.

You were hoping to catch the biggest fish.

Also, this time you planned on showing up in a proper fancy riding outfit, fit to a prince.

You were rather petty like that. And your ass looked brilliant in those pants.

You seriously didn’t have enough opportunities to wear trousers.

Arriving late, you hopped off your inky black horse, feeling eyes on your form once again.

You wore tight white pants with a sporty waistcoat with gold and dark blue accents. And you felt magnificent holding your sword at your hip.

Subconsciously, your eyes wandered, looking for a particular someone, but you couldn’t see him. A frown tugged at your lips, but you quickly stopped it and smiled as you usually would, making your way to your tent to get ready.

By the time you had gone into the forest you still didn’t get to see a particular someone’s endearing smile and dimples.

Hunting brought you more peace than you thought it could. You languidly shot at moving animals - birds mostly- and looked for the grizzly.

Why draw something out for longer than it should be?

You were lost in your own head when you heard a scream.

Quickly you turned your horse around and towards the scream.

You were surprised, however, when you ran into Sungoon, appearance dishevelled, leaves and small sticks stuck in his hair and clothes, horse gone.

Looking him in the eye, you saw him breathing heavily, eyes wide in fear, before he flinched at the loud roar the bear behind him let out.

Before you could even realise what had happened, you drew your bow and knocked four arrows at the bear and it fell over with a cry.

You and Sunghoon though, just gazed at each other. He stared at you as if you had just promised him the world, and you, from your position on your horse, bow still in hand, looked at him as if he had just told you the secrets of the whole world.

You were startled from your romantic gazing when a horn sounded, both of you looking in the direction of the trees.

“Marry me” you said before you thought better of it.

To say that this bi-annual Huntsmen Competition had the best ending party yet, would be an understatement.

Everyone danced and drank as you happily held hands with Sunghoon, right in the centre of everything, celebrating what would be the best event of this life yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My dearest girls: @ch3rryc0smos & @janaicetea

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