Regency Au - Tumblr Posts
Blessed-Cursed (teaser)
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?
Warnings: sharp objects - arrows; marriage
Series: Enhypen Regency AU
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:
Number one: Lear how to be a brilliant archer!
“But Father!” you yelled through the tears, “I wish to learn archery, and I wish to do it NOW!”
Number two: Start taking interest in politics!
"That wouldn't be a smart decision" you hummed looking at the map, "I propose we request the Kim Kingdom to collaborate using the forests we share at our borders. Our relations are better and they won't try and use this to their advantage."
Number three: Try and turn away as many suitors as possible!
“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.”
So, just how on earth did you end up in this situation?
“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.
What a blessing (or is it a curse?).
Blessed-Cursed (teaser)
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?
Warnings: marriage
Series: Enhypen Regency AU
~
“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 he had stolen all affection in the world and put it in his eyes.
He looked beautiful being bathed in the moonlight. His pale skin 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 and he looked as if you had ripped his heart out of his chest. You merely pulled your gloves off your hands, threw them somewhere behind you (which had pulled out a choked laugh from him) and you raised your arms to whip 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.
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
if anyone wants to be a part of the taglist send an ask <3
Wait WHAT
I AM READYYYYY
But I'm Only Looking At You: Chapter Masterlist
Main Pairing: Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Summary:
Cassian has been in love with Nesta Archeron for years and hopes to one day ask for her hand. But when Cassian learns that Nesta is set to marry the Viscount Tomas Mandray, he's ready and willing to do anything to stop it, including doing something very very stupid.
Aka a Regency AU inspired by Taylor Swift's Speak Now
Read on AO3
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Epilogue
Just... I just need a moment to wheeze breathe.
Mortal Appetites
Mortal Appetites by raethye
A Pride and Prejudice and Zombies AU
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Seokjin x Taehyung
Length: 41.1K, ongoing
Tags: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Kim Seokjin | Jin/Kim Taehyung | V, Kim Taehyung | V, Kim Seokjin | Jin, Park Jimin (BTS), Jeon Jungkook, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Kim Namjoon | RM, Min Yoongi | Suga, Huening Kai, Huening Bahiyyih, Huening Lea, Lee Hoseok | Wonho, Im Changkyun | I.M, Original Characters, Alternate Universe, Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Zombie Apocalypse, Regency, Adaptation, Minor Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Imprinting, Explicit Sexual Content, don’t hate me purists, villain, no time like the apocalypse to fall in love, Family, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Heavy Angst, Fluff, Feels, Smut, Top Kim Seokjin | Jin, Bottom Kim Taehyung | V
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a zombie—once having consumed brains—must be in want of more brains.”
Full work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41430663
Chapter 01: A Truth Universally Acknowledged
Chapter 02: The Tragedy of Netherfield Park
Chapter 03: If You See a Zombie, Slay a Zombie
Chapter 04: Rumors of a Most Peculiar Sort
Chapter 05: Netherfield Park Is Let Again
Chapter 06: Struck Dumb By an Angel
Chapter 07: It Happens Just Like That
Chapter 08: The Perfectly Tolerable Mr. Kim
Chapter 09: Of Fate and Featherstones
Chapter 10: A Figure Both Light and Pleasing
Chapter 11: An Invitation to Dine
Chapter 12: A Storm Without and Within
Chapter 13: The Art of Accomplishment
Chapter 14: The Heat of the Moment
Chapter 15: Laying the Undead to Rest
Chapter 16: The Massacre of Mrs. Beecham’s Home
Chapter 17: A Point of No Return
Chapter 18: In a Time of Need
Chapter 19: The Arrival of Parson Kim
Chapter 20: A Visit to Meryton
Chapter 21: A Penny for Your Thoughts
Chapter 22: coming 09 dec 22
The Netherfield Ball is finally here...
Mortal Appetites
The Netherfield BallMortal Appetites by raethye
A Pride and Prejudice and Zombies AU
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Seokjin x Taehyung
Length: 47.4K, ongoing
Tags: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Kim Seokjin | Jin/Kim Taehyung | V, Kim Taehyung | V, Kim Seokjin | Jin, Park Jimin (BTS), Jeon Jungkook, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Kim Namjoon | RM, Min Yoongi | Suga, Huening Kai, Huening Bahiyyih, Huening Lea, Lee Hoseok | Wonho, Im Changkyun | I.M, Original Characters, Alternate Universe, Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Zombie Apocalypse, Regency, Adaptation, Minor Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Imprinting, Explicit Sexual Content, don’t hate me purists, villain, no time like the apocalypse to fall in love, Family, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Heavy Angst, Fluff, Feels, Smut, Top Kim Seokjin | Jin, Bottom Kim Taehyung | V
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a zombie—once having consumed brains—must be in want of more brains.”
Full work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41430663
Chapter 01: A Truth Universally Acknowledged
Chapter 02: The Tragedy of Netherfield Park
Chapter 03: If You See a Zombie, Slay a Zombie
Chapter 04: Rumors of a Most Peculiar Sort
Chapter 05: Netherfield Park Is Let Again
Chapter 06: Struck Dumb By an Angel
Chapter 07: It Happens Just Like That
Chapter 08: The Perfectly Tolerable Mr. Kim
Chapter 09: Of Fate and Featherstones
Chapter 10: A Figure Both Light and Pleasing
Chapter 11: An Invitation to Dine
Chapter 12: A Storm Without and Within
Chapter 13: The Art of Accomplishment
Chapter 14: The Heat of the Moment
Chapter 15: Laying the Undead to Rest
Chapter 16: The Massacre of Mrs. Beecham’s Home
Chapter 17: A Point of No Return
Chapter 18: In a Time of Need
Chapter 19: The Arrival of Parson Kim
Chapter 20: A Visit to Meryton
Chapter 21: A Penny for Your Thoughts
Chapter 22: Refuting an Old Acquaintance
Chapter 23: Haunted by the Past
Chapter 24: The Netherfield Ball
Chapter 25: coming 16 dec 22
andante cantabile || MYG x reader
pairing: myg x f!reader
genre: historical / regency au, fluff, smut in epilogue
chapter rating: 13+
wc: 10.4k
summary: You are convinced Mr. Min is nothing but a rude and gloomy man after he leaves a horrible first impression on you. His friends' attempts to convince you otherwise are met with mixed success.
warnings: pianist!yoongi, jane austen rip-off, enemies to lovers if you squint, slow burn, mention of parent death, jungkook is the reader’s younger brother, full ot7 as supporting cast
note: I’m finally crossposting to tumblr again! A little nervous, mostly excited 😊 It’s exactly two years ago that I first posted this story, and I’m still really proud of it. The writing style was a fun challenge, definitely a bit of an experiment but I hope you enjoy!
(Posted as a oneshot on ao3, split into smaller parts for tumblr. That does mean the first part has relatively more screentime for the supporting cast, but there is a lot of regency!Yoongi goodness coming up 💕)
masterlist: 1 | 2 | 3 | coda
“Jungkook.” With an urgent whisper, you shook your brother awake. “Kookie!”
Your little brother had been sound asleep, curled up in the sheets, but he stirred at your insistent poking of his cheek.
“Wh— what’s going on?” he asked groggily, trying to escape your prodding finger. The five-year old boy sat cross-legged on the bed, his mouth hanging open as he blinked tiredly at you.
“It’s a full moon, remember!” you said, jumping off the bed. You pulled back his heavy curtains with a dramatic flair, an effect somewhat ruined by the fact Jungkook’s window did not afford a view of the aforementioned moon.
His only response to your words a bleary stare, Jungkook looked on the brink of falling back to sleep.
Unacceptable!
Drawing yourself up to your full eight-year old height, you pulled Jungkook out of the bed and to the window. He yawned loudly, rubbing at his eyes as he dragged his feet.
“Come on,” you urged him, lifting him up to sit in the window sill, then clambered up yourself and undid the latch. “We have a ghost to catch!”
“Ghosts aren’t real,” he said, pouting at you. “Jimin told me so.”
You sniffed. “Jimin is only seven. Do you trust him over me?” The cool night air brushed against your bare arms as you opened the window and you suppressed a shiver, hastening to readjust your cloak.
Jungkook put his arms around his knees, nuzzling into the fabric of his nightgown. “No,” he finally admitted.
“Then let’s go!”
In the end, you never caught any ghost—though Jungkook did catch a terrible cold. Still, for a long time you insisted one haunted the orchard until the passing of years forced you to grow up and put an end to your nightly adventures, the full moon a beautiful sight but nothing more.
“Miss Jeon!” a voice called out across the meadow.
The wind almost caught your straw bonnet when you looked up from the field of yellow flowers. With one hand you clutched onto your hat, the other filled with the flowers you had picked. You smiled at the sight of Areum Kim, your neighbour and oldest friend. Though she did not always carry herself with the greatest sense of propriety, you could not fault her for that. Indeed, she was the one person in whom you failed to recognise it as a fault at all.
She hurried down the stone path to you, her sister-in-law in her wake.
“Areum, Mrs. Kim,” you said warmly, giving a small curtsy. “What brings you here?”
Doyeon Kim, a delicate woman with striking eyes, sent a teasing smile Areum’s way. “Seokjin received a letter from his cousin today,” she said.
“Oh, do let me tell,” Areum protested, clutching onto Doyeon’s arm. She turned to you without waiting for an answer, radiating excitement. “My cousin Namjoon bought a summer home right here in Southdon, and he is coming over next month! Not only that, but he’ll bring his brother and some friends from London. London!”
“Your cousin? That is wonderful news!” you said. You had met him once before at the wedding of Seokjin and Doyeon Kim, though his younger brother had been too sick to travel at the time. He’d been a handsome man, with smart manners and a dimpled smile that motivated you to keep him in high spirits.
Areum nodded with enthusiasm. “And you will finally meet Taehyungie! Your brother is almost of an age with him, I am sure they will get along most splendidly.”
Doyeon laughed, a bright sound she hid behind her hand. “I have yet to find the person Taehyung does not get along with. That being said, his temperament does seem like a good match for Mr. Jeon’s.”
“Then I look forward to the two making their acquaintance,” you said, always pleased to see your brother make new friends.
The month passed by with little happenings of note. An expectant vibration hung in the air of Southdon, anticipating the arrival of Namjoon Kim and his party; particularly the well-to-do bachelors from London he was rumoured to bring. While your hometown was not without society, the city of London always cast a spell of curiosity and marvel.
Your younger brother was particularly excited, eager for the opportunity to expand his social circle. Frequently you overheard him with your other neighbour, Jimin Park, crafting plans for activities they could undertake with the newcomers.
As for your father, he made sure to note their bachelor status, though he knew better than to press the subject. The generous condition of your family’s financial and social standing meant you did not want for attention from suitors, but it also provided you with the luxury to be quite selective about a potential husband. Jungkook had once horrified your father by suggesting you not be married at all and instead become the residential spinster of Aberton Hall, where Jungkook assured he’d provide anything his beloved sister desired.
Now, while your disposition towards marriage was not wholly unfavourable, Jungkook’s half-serious jests always put your mind at ease, erasing any pressure you might have felt. He enabled you to approach the subject strictly on your own terms, and for that you would always be grateful.
So you awaited the arrival of the much anticipated party with no frivolities clogging up your thoughts, no expectations begging to be dashed. Instead you merely enjoyed the prospect of reacquainting yourself with Namjoon Kim and the doubled efforts that society would put into their events this season. Already Areum gushed to anyone who would listen (or pretend to) about the preparations she was making for a ball to welcome her cousins. She only needed the slightest provocation to throw an event, and her brother tended to indulge her fancies.
It was when Jungkook and you were engaged in a friendly practise bout of fencing that a letter arrived—and quite timely as well, for your brother had been beating you quite handily. His skills with the foil were unparallelled in the county and so sparring with him always brought mixed feelings on your part; you appreciated the challenge, but hated to lose. As much as you enjoyed going up against your brother, there were only so many defeats your ego could bear.
Your mask tucked under your arm, you thanked the servant for bringing the letter. Jungkook wiped his forehead, skin shiny with perspiration, watching as you read the letter and took in its contents.
“Who is it from?” he asked once you had finished.
“Mr. Kim,” you said, gently folding up the paper with a smile that refused to be contained. “He has called upon us for dinner next week. His cousins will also be attending.”
Jungkook’s face brightened with obvious elation. “How fortunate! I have been pestering father to invite Mr. Namjoon Kim and his companions over as soon as possible, but he insisted they must be allowed to settle in peace.”
His fervour brought out a warm laugh from you. “Father has a point,” you conceded, “but we are lucky to have such a considerate neighbour. He is kind to include us while he must have plenty of catching up to do with his family.”
“Which they can do just as easily in our presence,” Jungkook said, resting his forearms on your shoulders as he leaned against your back. With an exaggerated flair you fell forward, pretending to buckle underneath your brother’s weight. He laughed and held onto you to keep you on your feet. “You must agree, do you not?” he said with the pleased confidence of a man already sure of the answer.
You put the letter aside and took up your foil once more. “It does not matter if I do,” you teased. “We have been invited, to refuse would be most rude. Now, let’s continue!”
“Are you certain? I would hate to wound your dignity even further,” he said, the grin on his lips saturated with mischievous pride.
“Oh, I doubt you would,” you said, putting your mask back on. “But you will have to beat me first!”
If there was one circumstance that allowed you a fair chance to beat your brother, it was when his confidence soared too high. You would not pass on this rare opportunity, too enticed by the lure of victory. Jungkook’s eyes glinted as he also donned his mask, rising to your bait. You slid into a proper stance and Jungkook did the same, carrying on your ‘friendly’ practise bout.
Once Namjoon Kim arrived in Southdon, taking residence in Bexlow House, it took no time at all for rumours to circulate about him and his companions.
Hoseok Jung and Yoongi Min stirred up dust in particular; a rich yet eccentric patron of the arts and the pianist he doted on. Apparently Mr. Min was making quite a name for himself in London (or so Park told you, whose aunt spoke of him in her letters) but he came from old money, leading you to suspect his growing fame might not be based on skill alone. Fortunately, Mr. Seokjin Kim’s invitation ensured you did not have to wait long for the opportunity to turn hearsay and speculation into solid fact.
You could not help but tease Jungkook for his palpable enthusiasm as the carriage rode you towards Mr. Kim’s estate, a shine to his boyish face. “I swear,” you said, “you are more excited about them than Mrs. Lee and her daughters.”
Unabashed, Jungkook grinned at you. “Of course! After all, we do not often have new faces around here.” He looked his best today, in a fitted tailcoat of deep burgundy and his dark brown hair parted with an artful tousle to reveal his forehead, while the narrow shape of his waist evidenced the presence of a corset.
“Of course,” you affirmed with a smile. Surely his eagerness had nothing to do with the deep admiration that Namjoon Kim had instilled in Jungkook when they previously met. Three years of age difference made quite an impact, and Jungkook had followed the older boy around like an imprinted duckling.
The past years had done little to temper Jungkook’s memory, his idolisation back in full force. But Namjoon Kim had also left quite a positive impression on you, so you could understand your brother’s feelings. You only hoped the man had aged well, saving Jungkook from bitter disappointment.
With Acton Field only two miles from your home, the carriage ride did not take long. You had a beautiful view of its apple grooves, a lush green after the trees already shed their flowers through spring.
“Mr. and Miss Jeon! Welcome!”
Seokjin Kim gave you a jovial greeting, a wide smile painted across his beautiful face. Your neighbour had always been an attractive man and years of a flourishing marriage had only increased his charms. Always a proper man of the house, he made introductions between the various parties.
Expectation lived up to reality; not only as handsome as you remembered, but the years had lent Namjoon Kim a maturity that suited him well. His younger brother Taehyung made a striking figure himself, with large eyes and an intense expression that bordered the line of intimidating, until a rectangular grin softened his face when Seokjin introduced him.
Perhaps the Kims’ elegance attracted company of equal refinement, you mused. Mr. Jung certainly matched them with his sharp jawline, the very picture of aristocratic dapperness. And then there was Mr. Min, whose dour expression could not diminish his delicate features. Skin pale as porcelain contrasted by dark hair and dark eyes that regarded his surroundings with a certain caution. Not the most charming of men, but undeniably fair to look upon.
Areum drew you into a conversation with her youngest cousin, pleased to finally have you meet him. You quickly came to understand the confidence she had in a friendship between him and Jungkook; he was an amicable sort, earnest and up-beat. You spared a glance at your brother, and concealed a sympathetic wince.
As personable as Jungkook was, he had never grown out of his shyness—a consequence of living in such a small and unchanging community, you suspected. You did wish your father had not kept you and Jungkook so sheltered, but you understood where his protectiveness came from.
Now Jungkook stood next to Mr. Jung and Mr. Namjoon Kim, a clear battle in his doe eyes. His instinct to disappear into the background clashing with the desire to speak with the man he so looked up to. Fortunately Jung proved talkative enough for three men combined, easily entertaining with tales of London.
Besides, Jungkook was not the only quiet one in the drawing room.
Mr. Min stood with Seokjin Kim and his wife, and while he politely answered their questions, he struck you as distinctly unhappy to be there. Mrs. Kim was the very embodiment of hospitality, her face lit up with a smile that ought to lift the spirits of any guest. Yet Min proved immune, eyes restless as they wandered around the room. Did he truly think the company so poor? Seokjin’s japes were not so horrible.
The rumours had led you to believe Mr. Jung was the eccentric one, but at least the man showed himself to be likable. You adjusted your expectations of Mr. Min’s skills on the pianoforte; for people to put up with his disposition he must be talented indeed.
“Don’t you think so, Miss Jeon?” Areum asked, interrupting your inner musings.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” you replied without missing a beat, effortlessly stepping back into the conversation. “There are some rich fishing waters on our grounds, I am sure my brother would love to take you.”
There, a seed planted to create a connection, you thought, satisfied at your efforts to help Jungkook. Taehyung responded positively to the idea, adding that Mr. Min was an avid fisher as well.
You smiled, but your lips were pressed together tightly. Concealing the dreadful impression Mr. Min had made on you, you smoothly proposed a group outing for the men. After all, Seokjin Kim would be distraught if left out.
You cast a furtive glance at Yoongi Min, but was startled to find his eyes already on you. With a sudden rush of embarrassment you dropped your gaze to the ground, annoyed at yourself for feeling caught when he was the one who had been staring.
Fortunately a servant announced dinner was ready, and the group left the drawing room to partake in the meal. Dinner opened with a serving of white soup and the atmosphere was easy; even Jungkook relaxed now there was food to distract him from his own inhibitions.
Once again Mr. Jung proved himself a natural entertainer, speaking of his exploits in London. “I truly believe it is the arts that bring meaning to people’s lives. That is why I became involved,” he said with a beautiful smile, a calm timbre weaving through his voice while he spoke seriously of his passion. “It gives a voice to our inner self, allowing us to speak of what we fail to put into words. Like the music of our Yoongi here!”
The musician in question stiffened at the mention of his name, then made a soft hum of acknowledgement and brought another spoonful of soup to his mouth, leaving his response at that. However, the group did not allow him to eat in silence, their interest drawn by Mr. Jung’s remark.
“How long have you played the pianoforte, Mr. Min?” Seokjin Kim asked. “Professionally, I mean.”
Min swallowed slowly, ducking his head down. His eyes were almost lost under his dark hair, which he wore longer than deemed fashionable. “Not long,” he said, glancing at Mr. Jung and not elaborating further.
With an easy chuckle, Hoseok Jung picked up the thread of conversation that Min had dropped so carelessly. “I had to convince my friend here to share his performances with the public! If not for me, he would still be locked up inside his house.”
“And perhaps happier for it,” Min said in a stony voice.
You and Areum locked eyes at once, though she was less successful at keeping her face neutral. But Jung burst out laughing, a loud cackle that sounded through the dining room and defused any negative effect Min’s brusque comment might have had on the evening’s ambiance.
In the corner of your eyes you noticed your brother, whose eagerness to contribute had been building for a while now, his nerves calming and smile broadening. You turned back to your soup, your own lips curling upwards as well, pleased to see Jungkook on the verge of opening up.
Your joy proved short-lived.
“My sister has some fair skill on the pianoforte herself,” he said, and the corners of your mouth dropped before you could catch yourself. “She plays quite wonderfully!”
Jungkook. Your doting brother, the staunchest of your supporters and biggest champion (unless it concerned fencing). Any other day you would have been endeared by his belief in your talents, even the nonexistent ones, but today you had to make an exception.
Your skills were acceptable, and that was the kindest word on the subject you could spare without risking yourself delusional. One of your failings as a lady, and one you were painfully aware of.
“Jungkook, you flatter me,” you said with a small laugh. “That is higher praise than I deserve.”
Your words were not enough to repair the damage and you felt the eyes burning into you. The local branch of the Kim family smiled at your humility, too polite to say the words themselves, especially since they knew Jungkook would not be happy with them for it. Only Areum dared a raised eyebrow of scepticism, but the gesture went unnoticed.
However, their cousins had no way of knowing your words were not a display of false modesty. Namjoon and Taehyung Kim gave you looks of curiosity, taking Jungkook’s praise at face-value. Even worse; Min’s glum expression broke for the first time, an inquisitive glimmer in his dark eyes as he studied you with renewed interest. Sitting directly opposite of you, his attention was an unpleasant weight.
But Mr. Jung trumped them all, offering the suggestion you most dreaded. “Well, I would be remiss if I did not hear a performance,” he said, a geniality to him that assured you his request was honest with no ill-intent. “Who knows, I may have to sweep you off to London!”
The audacious words sent a burning flush through your already heated skin, your laugh growing ever fainted. “I fear London is too bold a stage for my limited abilities,” you said. “Besides, surely no one is interested in an amateur’s efforts when we have a professional among us.”
You gestured towards Mr. Min, catching his gaze. Imploring him to save you from embarrassment, you poured a silent plea into your smile. He looked back at you, a feline quality to his eyes—though his current expression brought to mind a grumpy tomcat rather than any sleek elegance.
“By that logic I would rarely have the opportunity to hear the playing of others,” he said, sullen.
“Ah, of course,” you acknowledged, shoulders slumping. There was nothing more you could do except praying for the party to forget about this particular conversation by the time dinner finished.
A lull settled over the table, the subject closed by Min’s statement. You continued to eat your soup, attempting to savour the veal broth but your efforts came up short. Namjoon Kim gave you a curious look from the seat next to you, then his face softened in a sympathetic smile. “Miss Jeon, I see your father is not with us today. Is everything well? I was looking forward to meeting him again.”
The change of subject loosened the knot in your chest. “Sadly, our father had to leave urgently to distant relations in Antwerp,” you explained. Only two days ago he had departed, after a pressing letter from your grand uncle that he was needed.
“I hope there are no health issues?”
“No, thankfully. There is business to attend to,” you said. “Our grand uncle is deeply involved in the stock market. I do not understand all the finer aspects of it, but father intends to return before the end of summer. I’m sure he will have the opportunity to explain it himself, if you are interested.”
“In the meanwhile, I am left in charge of the estate,” Jungkook interjected, and you heard a mixed jumble of pride and resentment in his voice. As pleased as your brother was to be entrusted with this responsibility, you knew he yearned for the opportunity to travel. However, the indignation was only subtle, soothed by the presence of new people right here in Southdon.
Various members of the party made suitably impressed noises, and Taehyung Kim questioned Jungkook about the grounds, specifically the fishing waters you had mentioned to him earlier. Conversation picked up again around you, and you gave Namjoon Kim a silent look of thanks for his smooth intervention. A slight nod in return, and then his attention turned to the topic at hand; organising an outing together to test out those waters. Seokjin Kim showed the most blatant enthusiasm but even Min eased into a small smile, a reminder of his supposed interest in fishing.
Basking in the obvious happiness of your brother, you calmed down and almost forgot about the earlier incident. Though you could not let it slip from memory entirely, not with Mr. Min casting persistent glances your way (much to your displeasure). You distracted yourself by regaling Namjoon Kim with stories about the town.
He burst into a dimpled laugh as you narrated how a flock of chickens once upset the Sunday sermon, when they had somehow gotten into the church and one laid an egg right on the pastor’s bible, another building a nest in the man’s hair. A tale from many years ago, though perhaps you should not be as fond of the recollection as you were, proof of your misbehaviour during that time of your life.
Of course, you left out the part about who was responsible to Mr. Kim, but you suspected he knew anyway. Father always blamed the lack of a maternal presence for your period of rebellion, but in time you settled down and matured into a proper lady.
Dinner continued to the next course, with such enjoyable conversation around the table that you entirely forgot about the looming threat waiting for you.
Hoseok Jung, the self-proclaimed patron of the arts, had not.
As the servants took away the final plates he pinned you with a slow smile, sparing no mercy. In his defence, he did not seem aware of the fact that you required such a thing. “Miss Jeon! Is now the time for you to grace us with a song?”
With no means to decline without risking insult, you supposed it was. Though ‘grace’ would not be the word of your choice. You nodded in agreement and could only hope your smile did not show the strain behind it.
Ever the excellent host, Seokjin Kim led his guests back to the drawing room. Usually his wife would be the one who played to entertain guests; Doyeon was far more musically accomplished than you. She gently touched your arm as she passed by, though you did not know whether it was intended as encouragement or sympathy. Under other circumstances she may have tried to take your place, but both of you knew Jungkook would take heavy offence.
All too aware of the eyes on you, you took place behind the pianoforte. It was a beautiful instrument, purchased only last year as a gift to Doyeon from her husband. You rifled through the music sheets and quickly found a sonata by Haydn you felt reasonably confident of. The others spread through the room, making themselves comfortable on sofas or by the window or, in Min’s case, standing by the bookcase behind the pianoforte.
You felt a stab of unease at his presence behind you but ignored him best you could. Bolstered by the proud shine on Jungkook’s face, you pressed your fingers to the keys. You focused on the music, fooling yourself into believing your brother was the only other person in the room. When he listened he did not hear mistakes, only creative improvisations.
And today, you very much appreciated to be indulged.
Music filled the drawing room as you made your way through the movements, starting off with a brisk allegro. You needed a few measures to hit your stride, but by the time you reached the minuet you found a sliver of peace deep inside you and latched onto it. Then, the third and fourth movements followed easier than you had anticipated. Not your worst performance, you reflected as you returned to one final allegro, building to the last crescendo—and then it was done.
Your fingers hovered over the keys as the climactic notes faded in the air, and you took a deep breath before lifting your eyes from the paper to face your audience.
A polite applause greeted you. As predictable as ever, Jungkook beamed at you as though you had just given a spectacular concert, but what truly warmed your heart was the appreciative smile of Doyeon Kim, an acknowledgement of your efforts. The performance had been… acceptable.
“Mm.”
You froze at the sound from behind you, far closer than anticipated. Quickly you recovered, smoothing a hand over your high-waisted dress as you nodded at your audience in thanks.
“That was excellent!” Jungkook said, then turned to the man standing just behind you. “Mr. Min, what did you think?” He smiled expectantly at the professional pianist, clearly anticipating a raving review. Your smile was more rueful, sympathising with Min for being forced in a position where he, if not outright lie, at least had to tip-toe around the truth.
Mr. Min sucked in a breath and when your eyes locked, his dark gaze caused a swelling of vulnerability deep inside you, invasive and unwelcome. “Your left hand is not as quick as your right,” he said. “It would help to first practise with just your left until you’ve mastered the part, then play with both hands.”
Any relief you might have felt at making it through your performance unscathed was cruelly doused by the sharp chill of humiliation. Your neck burned with a cold heat, creeping further to your cheeks.
Silence fell in the drawing room.
Decorum broken, you stared at Mr. Min, incapable of ripping your eyes away. His brow furrowed until he broke the contact himself, turning his head to the side. “Of course,” he said stiffly, “otherwise you played well.”
In the corner of your vision you saw Jungkook, his chest puffing up and a dangerous intensity drawing over his face. Wordlessly you begged him to remain quiet and not cause a scene, but a saviour presented himself before Jungkook could formulate a response.
Seokjin Kim clapped his hands together and let out a buoyant laugh. “How about we enjoy a glass of port, gentlemen? Come, come,” he said, putting his hands firmly on Jungkook’s shoulder as he led the young man back to the dining room with clear deliberation. “Let the ladies catch up on their gossip!”
Perhaps you were mistaken, but Mr. Jung gave you an apologetic look as he followed the others. They left you with Mrs. and Miss Kim, who rushed to assure you of how well you played. But, you thought bitterly, only by your standards.
Not by Mr. Min’s.
“And did you know he has seen a hot air balloon ascension?” Jungkook said to whoever would listen. On this particular day, that meant you and Jimin Park. “Mr. Kim has been studying technical drawings of them as well. Is he not amazing!”
Park, Jungkook’s lifelong friend and neighbour, looked at him with an indulgent smile. His light brown hair shone in the soft sunlight that fell into the parlour, cheeks lifted into an affectionate grin. You could still see the shadow behind his face of the adorable boy you used to know, but there was no denying Park had grown up into a beautiful young man.
“I look forward to meeting him at Miss Kim’s ball,” Park said, and you caught a pinch of jealousy at tomorrow’s planned fishing expedition, though not explicit enough for Jungkook to notice.
A blunder on Park’s part; Jungkook was the host for this outing and well within his rights to invite others, something he would do happily if he thought Park was interested. But fishing had never been a passion of his, only partaking when Jungkook forcibly dragged him along. If anything, your brother would believe he was doing Park a favour by leaving him out.
You looked up from your book, quietly developing a strategy. “What a shame though, that is still two weeks from now,” you said carefully.
Park’s lips parted, frozen in a response, then curled up as he recognised your efforts. “A shame indeed. Only so many weeks in a summer, then they’ll be back in London.”
“And Taehyung Kim is of an age with you! It would be lovely if you had the opportunity to meet sooner.” You chanced a look at Jungkook and felt a surge of triumph at his expression.
Rubbing a fingertip at his temple, cogs turning behind his eyes. “Oh, Jimin! What if you join us tomorrow?” he said, a wide smile bursting across his face. “You do not care for fishing, I know, but the company will make up for it!”
“That is so thoughtful,” Park said sweetly. “I will gladly take you up on that offer.”
“I do have to warn you,” Jungkook said, his expression souring, “Min will also be joining us. I saw no way to exclude him.”
You would never admit it, but part of you was thankful for the bite to Jungkook’s voice—though another part of you was flustered at his protectiveness. It had been a humiliating experience, one you’d rather forget, and so far Mr. Min had made no efforts to make repairs. The other Londoners had been sociable enough; the Kims had joined you and your brother when you crossed paths on a morning walk and Mr. Jung had happily chatted with you after church. Meanwhile, Mr. Min had utterly ignored you.
It was enough to convince you he did not care about the effect his impropriety had on you, which spoke ill of his character indeed. You struggled to understand why Mr. Namjoon Kim and the others associated themselves with such a man, but perhaps they simply were kind to him for the sake of Mr. Jung or so impressed by his musical skills.
“That is fine,” Park said, his eyes twinkling. “I must admit, I have become rather curious about him.”
Jungkook sniffed dismissively and instead returned to the subject of Namjoon Kim and his many exploits.
Park stayed all through dinner and joined you for a round of cards afterwards. As always the stakes became somewhat heated, nobody willing to walk away the loser. Jungkook looked at his hand with an insufferable quirk to his lips, confidence glimmering in his eyes.
“I propose I deal the next round,” Park said tightly, lifting an elegant eyebrow.
Smile turning dangerous, Jungkook cocked his head. “What do you mean to imply?”
“Oh, I imply nothing!”
“Good,” Jungkook said, “because unlike some, I do not resort to foul play to win. I don’t have to.”
You peeked over your cards to watch their bickering, already formulating a plan on how to best use this to your advantage. The more they riled one another up, the better your odds at taking away the victory.
Park bristled at the accusation. “Years of friendship, and this is how you treat me?” he sputtered, eyes wide.
“He treats you in the way your game tactics call for,” you said, hiding a playful smile behind your cards.
Park gave you a stricken look that spoke of the deep stab of betrayal you had just inflicted on him. But before he had the chance to respond, you were interrupted by your steward.
“Mr. Jeon, I am sorry to bother you, but could I have a moment of your time?” he said, ever polite. Jungkook excused himself and let the steward pull him away. Your eyes followed them, wondering what was important enough that it could not wait. However, your steward did not look particularly alarmed which assuaged most of your worries.
When you turned back to Park he was smiling at you, all belligerence of the game faded away. “Thank you,” he said, “for your assistance earlier.”
You chuckled, putting down your cards. “You are very welcome. I could not resign you to a fate of not meeting the Kims and Mr. Jung until the ball.”
“Ah, the ball…” he mused, drawing his thumb over his lip as his eyes twinkled at you. “I do hope I still hold the right to your first dance even with these fascinating newcomers around.”
“Of course you do!” you assured with a laugh. “I would not have it any other way.”
“Good.” The way his smile transformed his eyes into crescents was almost enough to make you forget about his fraudulent tendencies while playing cards.
“It truly is a mystery to me!” you exclaimed, struggling to keep your composure.
Areum was all sympathy, patting the arm you had looped around hers while she accompanied you on your morning walk. The touch of soft cotton was a slim comfort, but it assured you at least one person remained on your side.
For just a few short days your brother staunchly supported your dislike of Mr. Min, to the point that it embarrassed you at times! But hindsight made you appreciative of even those moments, now that they were lost to you.
One outing of the gentlemen together and Jungkook had changed his mind on the matter entirely. One single outing! Ever since then he tried to persuade you of the man’s intelligence, of his sense of humour. The latter had you convinced this was all part of some elaborate joke Jungkook was playing on you, though you did not understand what his endgame might be.
“I do not wish to speak ill of your brother,” Areum said, on the cusp of speaking ill of your brother, “but perhaps he simply lacks a certain sensitivity. It is easy for men among themselves to forget the wrongs they have inflicted on us.”
You smiled at Areum’s loyalty; you knew how partial she was to your brother, but she did not hesitate to choose a side. “Or Jungkook is simply having a laugh with me,” you said. “If Mr. Min truly is the man described to me, he would have apologised for his behaviour, but he has not even deigned to deliver a letter.”
Areum let out a deep sigh. “Seokjin also spoke of his thoughtfulness, it is baffling. Perhaps Mr. Min is just the sort of man who only gets along with other gentlemen. Oh!”
Her face lit up as she spotted something in the distance. You followed her gaze and saw a trio approaching you through the fields by horse, and even from this distance they were easy to recognise.
Jungkook and his two companions all looked in high spirits as they drew near, laughing brightly. Perhaps it was because they were so close of an age, but the three had become quite taken with one another. Areum’s smile gained a smug edge, satisfied to know her prediction had come true.
As for you, the sight of them getting along so amicably warmed your heart. Jungkook had truly come out of his shell around the youngest Kim, his efforts rewarded with what would surely become a treasured friendship.
“Good morning, Miss Jeon, Areum!” Taehyung Kim was the first one to call out to you.
They came to a halt near you and Areum, each astride an impressive Thoroughbred; the pride of the Park family’s stables. Greetings were exchanged, and Jungkook enquired after the well-being of Areum. She launched into an animated explanation of her newest ideas for the supper to be served at her event, staring up at Jungkook with a brilliant smile.
You bit your lip to hold back your amusement, but failed when Park sighed. His eyebrow quirked up at you, then he chuckled and shook his head. He liked Areum well enough, but once she got started on any given topic… You hoped they had no pressing matters to attend to.
However, Jungkook clearly did not mind. He asked in depth about her meal plans, though his focus lay with her choice of meats.
Taehyung Kim observed the conversation with interest, his head cocked to the side. “Do you think there will be strawberries?” he mumbled, more to himself than anything else. Then he blinked, as though to snap himself back into reality, and turned to you. “Did you enjoy the mackerel, Miss Jeon?”
The sudden change of subject threw you, and you needed a moment to realise what he meant. “Oh! Yes, yes very much,” you said. Freshly caught and prepared by your skilled cook, it had made for a delicious meal.
“Min caught it, did you know?” he said, his smile proud as though he had been personally responsible.
But your smile turned sour. Ah. Min again. “Yes, Jungkook mentioned it.”
Kim beamed at you. “He caught two, while Jeon had no luck at all so he was generous enough to share.”
Was there some conspiracy afoot? Had the universe turned itself against you, when all around you everyone sung the praises of Yoongi Min’s kindness while he showed you none? “Yes, very generous of him,” you said with as much warmth as you could muster.
It seemed to satisfy Kim, and you quickly took advantage of a lull in the conversation to close off this particular topic. “Areum, I am starting to feel peckish,” you said gently. “Would you like to join me for breakfast back at the house?”
Areum hesitated but she recognised something in your expression and nodded in agreement. “Yes, of course. Gentlemen, we’ll leave you be,” she said with a light bow. Everyone said their goodbyes, then you parted ways with the trio. Areum was more than happy to continue her chatter about the ball preparations to you, and in turn you let yourself be distracted by her planning.
As agreed she joined you for breakfast and you savoured the light-hearted banter as much as the fresh apricot jam. But eventually it was time for her to return home and you sent her on her way, insisting she take your carriage.
And then, Aberton Hall suddenly was far too quiet.
With Jungkook still absent, you made your way to the drawing room. There was something you had been putting off these past few days, and you needed to confront it. You were childish to avoid it for so long, while you believed yourself to have outgrown that particular trait. So now it was time to deliver proof.
Inside the drawing room, the pianoforte waited for you.
The instrument stared you down, but you stared right back at its black-and-white keys. One deep breath, and you sat down on the stool, rolling your wrists and stretching your fingers to prepare them for practise. Face steeled with focus, you ran through your warm-up exercises.
Despite your lack of natural talent, you always found the routine calming, the habitual rhythms and passages a place of solace that emptied your mind of distractions and discomforts. And so you felt ready to continue onto the next step after you finished.
A familiar sonata rested on the music desk.
You refused to let one memory—one man—spoil your enjoyment of this piece. You refused!
Yet, your hands hesitated above the keys. His words, his criticism, topped off by his disingenuous compliment; the faint ghost of their memory sang through you. Your expression hardened and you took another deep breath, then placed only your left hand on the keys and began to play. A strange sense of spite had taken hold of you, as though mastery of this piece would somehow deflect your feelings of embarrassment back onto Mr. Min. That it would prove him wrong.
By the time Jungkook returned to the estate you were still practising, but he must have discerned your state of mind, for he uncharacteristically made no comment.
Finally, the day of the ball arrived.
Wanting to look your best for Areum’s event, you put in every effort. You wore a sheer gown of cotton gauze, a satin petticoat underneath. Aiming for fashionable simplicity, the dress was white with beautiful embroidery forming a delicate trimming of leaves, while a ribbon tied around the waistline brought an accent of Pomona green to the ensemble. Your high waist was contrasted by a low neckline, the occasion allowing for such exposure of skin. It showed off the necklace of small pearls you wore, a fond memento of your mother.
The maid helped you prepare, carefully fixing a pearl ornament in your hair that complimented the necklace, and she buttoned up your long evening gloves. Together you finished in good time, so in the end it was you who had to wait for Jungkook, struggling to decide on the manner to tie his cravat.
You took the carriage to Seokjin Kim’s country house; a ball was one of the few occasions you would bother to do so. Already a significant crowd had gathered, filling up the splendorous home, and Areum stood absolutely radiant in the center of it all, relishing her role as hostess.
“Miss Jeon!” she greeted you eagerly, taking your hands in her own. “I am so happy to see you, we will start the first dance soon. I would not have you miss it.”
At her words your eyes instinctively darted through the crowd for Park, though you could not find him at first glance. A string quartet played a lively tune, lifting up the ambiance even further, and you saw people making introductions and socialising.
Instead of Park, you found Mr. Namjoon Kim. He looked as smart as ever in a charcoal tailcoat with a green vest underneath. The dimples in his cheeks greeted you before he did as he disentangled himself from a conversation with Mrs. Lee and came over to you and Areum. “Miss Jeon, might I have the honour of your first dance?” he asked after a light bow, a cheery gleam to his eyes.
“Ah, Mr. Kim, I am afraid my first is spoken for,” you declined him with regret.
“Well then,” he said, “I shall have to wait for your second!”
You smiled at the ease of his recovery. “And I shall look forward to it,” you assured him, but let out a soft ‘oh’ when you finally located Jimin Park. Kim followed your line of sight and chuckled, then excused himself, presumably to find an available dance partner.
The bustle of people meant that Park needed some time to wade through them to reach you. Meanwhile you spotted the other newcomers, taking up much of the attention with people eager to be introduced to them. Hoseok Jung thrived in this environment, his smile brightening up the assembly room, but even he could not disperse the gloomy fog that surrounded Mr. Min, who shifted on his feet beside the sociable patron. Taehyung Kim had been captured by Mrs. Lee and her daughters, but appeared to handle the situation with grace.
Then Park stood in front of you, bowing while you curtsied, though he went through the formality with a playful slant to his lips. His eyes flickered to Areum, who strode to the center of the dance floor with Jung Hoseok by her side, then back to you.
“Are you ready, my lady?” Park winked, offering you his hand.
“For you? Never,” you teased, but allowed him to take you to the dance floor.
Other couples followed, including Seokjin Kim and his wife. Doyeon’s marital status meant she outranked Areum, but Areum’s position as hostess gave her the honour of leading the first dance. She could not have chosen a better partner; Mr. Jung proved to be one of the best dancers you ever had the pleasure of seeing. Effortlessly he glided over the floor, taking Areum with him in his wake. You and Park followed their lead, as did the other couples. The slow minuet allowed for conversation with relative ease, a fact you gladly took advantage of.
“It truly makes me happy to see you and Jungkook get along so well with Mr. Kim,” you said, moving gracefully through the sequence.
An accomplished dancer in his own right, Park accompanied you with poise and finesse. He smiled at your words. “Kim is a good man,” he said. “I’d say I was lucky to have met him, but then I’d be selling you short.”
You laughed in response. “And now you give me too much credit, Park! At the most I moved up your meeting by a few days.”
Though his smile stayed in place, something of the cheer faded from his eyes, leaving you to wonder what you had said wrong. He saw your confusion and sighed, shaking his head. A partner-switch temporarily broke you apart, but you kept your eyes on Park while you danced with Mr. Lee.
“I apologise,” he said once you were reunited. “It’s just… sometimes I forget you don’t call me by my given name any more.”
“No,” you said with a weak chuckle, no less confused, “not since we were little.”
Back when you were children. Back when Park took care of your brother even though he was only two years older; still a child himself but wanting to be there for the boy who lost his mother. Jungkook had been too young to truly understand what it all meant, but Park did.
You swallowed thickly, a sudden gratefulness swelling up from deep inside you.
And while your smile faltered, Park’s returned in full force. “I suppose I’m simply not used to your devotion to propriety these days.” He let out a soft giggle. “Not when I remember how you snuck frogs into my bed.”
“You deserved that,” you said pointedly, lifting your chin in a huff, but then you sighed, the breath filled with nostalgia. “I had to grow up sometime.”
“Hm,” he mused, “but at least you still remember how to hold a grudge. It is reassuring to know some things never change.”
The words came with a teasing lilt, but you could swear they physically struck you, causing you to almost trip when the dance called for another switch. Mr. Lee must have thought you a dreadful dance partner, so distracted by Park’s comment.
Was he implying you were too hard on Mr. Min? That you had to give him a second chance without any apology at all? You had not even spoken to the man since that first dinner together, a direct result of his avoidance of you.
Park was quick to see how his remark had affected you when you returned to his side. A rueful smile tugged at his lips and he squeezed your hand as you circled around each other. “Don’t pay me any mind,” he said. “Clearly I have turned into an old man already, sentimental about my wasted youth.”
You laughed at his dramatic statement. “Don’t even say that! You are younger than me,” you pointed out. “What does that make me then?”
“An elderly spinster,” he grinned, relishing your affronted gasp.
The moment of discomfort had passed, and you relaxed into the rest of the dance. When the song ended, it was with some reluctance that you and Park parted ways—until you remembered your promise to Namjoon Kim.
The gentleman waited with crinkled eyes as he smiled at you, and he led you into a faster paced reel. Joined by Jungkook and Areum, you laughed often as the dance took you through interlacing figures and sequences of complicated footwork.
As the dance ended, you were both elated and in desperate need of catching your breath. Mr. Kim brought you back into the crowd, where he left you with Doyeon and went to look for a new partner himself. She gave you a knowing smile; Doyeon had a talent for making you feel as though she was aware of your every secret.
“How are you tonight, Miss Jeon?”
You wondered how much Areum had relayed to her about your grievances, but when Doyeon’s gaze drifted over to the new figure approaching you, a meaningful look in her eyes, you wondered no longer.
Mr. Min joined you, though by the look of him you would think he was only here under threat of death. He hesitated, then bowed lightly. You and Doyeon curtsied in response, exchanging a glance when Min stood before you, chewing on the inside of his cheek and glancing off to the side.
Was he trying to swallow his pride, finally using this opportunity to make amends? You had been waiting for him to do so, of course, but surely this was not the right occasion?
“I hope you are well, Mr. Min,” Doyeon said, and you were grateful at least one of you still remembered her manners. The man truly unbalanced you.
“Ah, yes,” he said, his eyes flickering up for just a second. “Very well, thank you.”
“Don’t you think the music is excellent tonight? Areum worked hard to procure the services of this quartet,” she pressed on after a moment of clumsy silence. You couldn’t help but feel for her, trapped in the uncomfortable pressure between you and Mr. Min.
He nodded slowly, as though he needed a moment to process her words. “They are very good. Miss Kim should be proud of her efforts,” Min said, and finally his eyes met yours properly. For one brief moment, you were struck by the absurd notion he was about to ask you for a dance. Then he shook his head, and the moment passed. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kim, Miss Jeon, you have to excuse me.”
His departure as sudden and awkward as his entrance, Mr. Min was gone.
“What… what just happened?” you asked Doyeon, but almost immediately another abrupt arrival interrupted your conversation.
Mr. Jung swept in with a cheerful greeting, the unexpectedness of his appearance the only similarity to Min’s clumsy manners. “Miss Jeon, may I be so bold as to ask you for your next dance?”
Though he caught you off guard, you still agreed gladly; his opening dance with Areum made you eager to have him as your partner. He provided easy conversation until the next set began, while Seokjin Kim came over to invite his wife to a round of whist. You pitied their poor opponents, their combined skill at cards left not many who stood a chance to beat them. A lethal couple indeed. You had no time to consider them for long though, because Mr. Jung led you to the dance floor with a charming smile.
To your own surprise, you found yourself fighting off a spot of nerves. Until now you had only talked to Mr. Jung in a group setting, and his undivided attention proved to be intimidating. However, you liked to think your heart was not so faint, and thus you smiled back at him as you took position for the dance.
It all started so well.
Mr. Jung delivered to your every expectation, floating over the dance floor with a grace that seemed contagious. Just a light touch of his hand was enough to lead you through the sequences with confidence and you felt like you were dancing on a cloud.
“So, I noticed Yoongi came to talk to you,” Mr. Jung said, and the cloud rained away from underneath you.
“I am not certain ‘talk’ is the appropriate word.”
He hummed. “I do hope my friend has not continued to make a bad impression on you,” he said, his tone playful but a glimmer of solemnity behind his eyes. “I’m sure I speak for him when I assure you he meant no offence.”
It occurred to you that perhaps Jung only asked you to dance because he saw your exchange with Mr. Min. If anything, you had to admire his loyalty. You sighed, thinking back on Yoongi Min’s clear discomfort. Something resembling a pinch of sympathy edged at your thoughts and you sought him out in the crowd. You found him conversing with Namjoon Kim, near the tables set up for cards.
He looked placid now, clearly favouring Mr. Kim’s companionship over yours. Then the latter whispered something to him and Min broke out in a laugh, the smile transforming his face. It highlighted just how soft his features actually were, and even from this distance you saw a hint of his gums, the sight strangely endearing.
Your mood soured at once.
“Yoongi would not have answered your brother’s question so honestly unless he esteemed you,” Jung said, taking your continued silence as a signal to persist. He did not sound unkind.
But the damage had been done.
“I do not mean to discredit your insights of Mr. Min,” you said, bitterness clinging to your tongue, “but I am decently sure of his esteem for me, and it is none.”
The final drop had spilled. You had grown weary of people’s insistence to defend the qualities of Mr. Min. Qualities he surely had (to accuse so many of your friends and acquaintances of lying would be unseemly), but deigned not to show you. If everyone else spoke of his kindness, and everyone else was granted his good humours, then his problem lay with you and you could think of nothing you had done to wrong him.
In this moment, more than ever, you felt justified to hold onto your resentment of Mr. Min.
Clearly Mr. Jung sensed he should drop the issue, focusing on the dance instead. You regretted disagreeing so openly with him, but a sudden exhaustion took hold of you and it took all your concentration just to keep up with the steps. After the dance finished, Jung moved on and you had a quiet moment to consider your words. You sighed and smoothed out your dress, fighting the urge to bite your lip.
As loathe as you were to admit it, Park had the truth of it when he said you still knew how to hold a grudge.
The following morning you immediately wrote a thank you note to Areum, showing your gratitude for her hospitality as proper. A routine task, yet you found your thoughts so scattered that the letter took far longer to finish than expected. After finally closing the envelope and handing it over to a servant, you considered taking a walk to clear your head. Except the idea of being outside, where you could possibly encounter other people, it wrapped around your chest in a rigid tightness, constricting your breath like a poorly fitted corset.
After your dance Mr. Jung had left you in decidedly cooler spirits than he had approached you, and you felt the sting of embarrassment over your behaviour. At the very least you could have pretended to humour his attempt at bridging the gap between you and his friend.
You took a walk around the drawing room with your maid but it failed miserably as a distraction. You tried a book of poetry, but the text swam in your vision, reading words without ever comprehending them. For a moment you entertained the idea of seeking out Jungkook for a bout of fencing, but your desire to isolate yourself won out.
In the end you winded up behind the pianoforte, fingers brushing over the keys without pressing down.
You sighed, the irony not lost on you that the one activity you associated with Mr. Min provided your best chance of forgetting about him. And indeed, the comfortable routine of your warm-up practise helped you find a quiet space inside your head. By the time you had gone through them, you did not hesitate to go through Haydn’s sonata again, a test performance with both hands.
Diligently you had been practising with just your left, and though perhaps your own opinion was not the most impartial, you thought yourself much improved. The hours of rehearsal were paying themselves back; you would never be an effortless virtuoso, but your execution of the first two movements approached the level of a performance more than acceptable. Perhaps even decent.
To your frustration, you caught yourself blundering during the slower andante, little mistakes slipping past you as you struggled to coordinate your hands. With a deep sigh you stopped, gathered yourself, then returned to the part where your trouble began and went back to using only your left hand.
Patience, you told yourself. Patience was all you needed. Patience… or perhaps obstinacy. That was a trait you had plenty of, and its power had always gotten you very far. You played through the andante with deliberation, repeating every part where you faltered. But eventually you reached the end of the movement, finishing with a satisfied smile.
The piercing sound of a lonely applause suddenly rang through the drawing room.
You startled, but only for a second. This was not an uncommon occurrence; Jungkook enjoyed quietly slipping inside to listen to you play, unaware of an audience other than your personal attendant. “Jungkook, I didn’t hear you co—” you said as you turned around, then froze again when you saw not one, but two spectators.
Jungkook, as expected… and Mr. Min.
His dark eyes studied you carefully, something undecipherable in his gaze. If you were not careful you would be trapped by him, that you knew for certain. You quickly averted your eyes, your attention drawn to the envelope in his hand.
“You sounded great today,” Jungkook complimented, then patted Mr. Min on the shoulder. “Min has some business with you, so I will leave you be.”
Before you had the chance to think of an excuse to keep him in the room, Jungkook was gone. Fortunately your lady’s maid stayed in attendance, saving you from scandal, but even so you still felt abandoned.
Mr. Min cleared his throat, tugging at his cravat before he spoke.
“It is good to see you again, Miss Jeon,” he said with a light bow, awkward, and you quickly stood up to curtsy in return. “I’m afraid I created a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?”
He nodded, stepping further into the room until he hesitated and came to a halt.
“Oh, please sit!” you invited him, remembering your manners, but he shook his head and remained standing in the middle of the drawing room.
“I was, uh, I came here to deliver this letter but your brother insisted I talked to you in person,” Min said, scratching his cheek. “He is a very persuasive young man.”
Despite your discomfort, your smile was genuine. “That he is.”
“But what I am here for…” he said, then trailed off for a second, as though trying to arrange the words in his head. Clearly he had not expected to be speaking to you. “Hoseok led me to understand you believe I have no esteem for you.”
You winced, having not expected Mr. Jung to be so frank with Min about your conversation. “I apologise, I—”
The words slipped out before you fully realised what you were saying, and you would have been annoyed at the fact you were apologising to Mr. Min if not for the hand he held up to stop you. “No,” he said firmly. “I am the one who should apologise. I should never have spoken so bluntly to you at Mr. Kim’s.”
Your hands clutched at your dress, restless as you tried to process the situation. This was a good thing, was it not? Why the sudden knot in your stomach?
“Then I aggravated the situation by not making amends at once. I thought…” He hummed lowly, lips drawn in a tight line. “I thought it better to keep my distance from you, to spare—”
He interrupted himself, looking away for a moment, then met your eyes again with a steady gaze.
“No, that was not honest of me,” Min said, frowning. “I did think you would prefer to avoid my company, but I was also embarrassed by my mistake. I will not make excuses for that. So instead… I apologise for any hurt I have caused you, and wish you to know that I do, in fact, esteem you. Highly.”
His eyes flickered to your maid, who stood just behind you, as though only now remembering you were not actually alone. It took you a moment to realise he had finished speaking, waiting for your response, and you stammered clumsily.
“I— Thank you, Mr. Min,” you said, ducking your head. “I appreciate your visit, truly.”
The platitude was an inadequate response to his words, but you could not muster any more.
Mr. Min chewed the inside of his cheek, nodding as though you had said something more profound. “Thank you for hearing me out, Miss. I will leave you be,” he said, and began to turn away. Just as he stood at the door opening he paused, and looked at you over his shoulder with a pensive smile. “I hope this is not out of line, but you made some remarkable progress. Quite impressive.”
Then he was gone, leaving you to wonder just how long he and Jungkook had been listening to you play.
Something heavy weighed down on you, your hands digging into the fabric of your dress. You finally had the apology you so wanted, that you deserved.
So why did you feel so burdened?
It was not until much later that you realised he never gave you the letter.
→ pt. 2 💕
Love this!! Need to know what happens next omg thanks a lot for this one!💗💗
most undesirable || (M)
Spring has sprung and engagement is on the forefront of all of Regency London's young ladies' minds. All except for yours, of course– the Queen's niece who a certain notorious author has named the Ton's most undesirable.
pairing: lord!jungkook x lady!reader
word count: 5k
genre: BRIDGERTON AU, regency era, angst, eventual smut
warnings: cocaine usage (not oc or jk), oc has dead parents
A/N: this fic was commissioned by the lovely Baby. As per her request, it features me and our beloved izzy! please do let me know if you would like a part two, i have big plans for whats to come next ;)
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PART ONE **UNEDITED**
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A word of profanity left your painted lips as the outsoles of your lace-up boots danced across the limestone floor of the palace, making haste but not in a manner that was unbecoming, your head held high despite your mood running low.
You reached the door of Her Majesty's room with purpose, hands fiddling with the satin of your dress to make sure it covered your shoes. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate the influx of garments your dear aunt had gifted you upon your arrival. Still, the heels Her Majesty had deemed in style this season were particularly uncomfortable. She would no doubt grow sour to see you parading in countryside shoes in her home.
"Your highness." One of the oldest guards snickered, his eyes flicking towards you knowingly as he and another guard moved to open the grand doors to their Queen's private quarters.
You crunched your nose, "Shh."
Of course, the guards had already read the paper… Rotten gossips.
Willing a smile onto your face, you were let into the room. Your aunt sat at her sofa, the furniture floral in design, its fabric dyed a luxurious red. Between her hands were the source of your dismay, the newest Lady Whistledown papers fresh off the press.
You hadn't had the pleasure of reading this week's issue personally, but word traveled outrageously fast in the palace; both maids and guards suckers for a good scandal. You knew quite intimately the matter of its content as you were the matter of its content.
"Ah. Niece. There you are.” The Queen called you over, setting the paper down beside her unceremoniously.
You walked closer stiffly, "Aunt Charlotte, you wished to speak to me?"
"You know I adore you, don't you? You're like a breath of fresh air in this miserably dull palace."
Your once tense shoulders relaxed instantly, taking comfort in knowing she hadn't called you in for a scolding.
"It is you that lights up every room you enter, your Majesty." You bowed your head slightly, knowing well that flattery was your best line of defense should the tides change against you.
"I do, don't I?" She agreed with a grin, before it fell off her face suddenly. "Sorry– whatever were we talking about?"
"Um–"
"Ah, yes! Well, there's no point mincing words. I'm sure you've seen it by now. I mean, can you believe it? That sorrowful sow Whistledown attempting to soil the reputation of my bloodline with such a frivolous title as… as…" She snapped her fingers, forgetting the word she was looking for.
The sound echoed throughout her enormous chambers, currently barren as your aunt was in the process of renovating.
"Ice Princess." You reminded her quietly. She tutted her tongue in recognition.
"How tactless, how tasteless! It is me who sets reputations. Not her. No, no, this simply won't do."
You watched in silence as she pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Remind me, darling. Why weren't you at the Danbury Ball?"
You shifted, thinking back on the excuse you had given her, "I was… ill."
It was a lie, of course. You had been feeling quite well actually when notice of the ball came 'round. But could anyone fault you? Ballrooms and gowns weren't exactly your area of expertise.
Growing up, your mother and your aunt couldn't be more different; you often heard stories of the two sisters butting heads from your grandfather. One sister went on to marry the king of England, the other a humble traveling merchant. One stood throne in England; the other lived simply in France's countryside. Despite their differences, it was no secret that your aunt loved her older sister dearly, writing to her often in hopes of convincing her to come move to England. When she learned that your mother was with child, she even went as far as to purchase land for her sister and soon to be niece.
But your mother was every bit as stubborn as she was kind. She loved her husband and the life she had built with him, staying by his side until she passed last year. Your poor father was grief-stricken; by eight months, the stress on his heart had become too much, dying nearly a year after your mother.
It was your aunt who had reached out first, offering her deepest condolences and, far more noticeably, all the money you could ever need and your very own suite in the palace.
You weren't exactly sure why you had agreed to such a lucrative proposal. You, much like your mother, adored the countryside and the small town you grew up in. And perhaps that was why you agreed, not to move in, but instead to visit. She was family, after all, something you didn't have very much of left, though you have since come to know of a cousin Friedrich, recently married to an Edwina Sharma that your aunt raved on and on about.
In the week you had been here, you had come to know far more about British aristocracy than you ever wished to know, entirely out of your element amidst the corsets and personal maids. Only recently had you managed to lower your number of attending maids to two, a far cry from the original seven you were greeted with.
You did your best to fit in, but you were no fool. You knew nothing of soireés– or how to dance for that matter, so the moment your aunt spoke of a ball, you knew you had to conjure up some excuse as to why you woefully must decline.
"Exactly! For heaven's sake, you were ill. How dare Whistledown suggest otherwise." She gestured at the staff in the room as though they were her audience.
The sound of the Queen's chamber doors being thrown stole the attention of everyone in the room. Unsurprising to you, two young maids barreling in, tripping on each other.
"S-Sorry, Your Majesty!" The blonde stuttered out.
The brunette nodded in agreement, "Our apologies, Your Majesty. We didn't know where her highness had gone–"
"–We came running as soon as we realized she had snuck off."
Isabella and Roselia. Of course. Your two personal maids. You had only just managed to shake them from your trail when you heard the news that the Queen had sent for you. You should have figured they'd inevitably catch up with you.
They were pleasant enough company, the duo were quite funny, actually, but the constant shadowing was something you learned you rather detested. You understood they were under strict orders by the Queen to ensure your every need was attended to but still… surely even nobility understood the concept of wanting to have a moment alone?
"Oh— Are we interrupting something?" Roselia's cheeks went pink, eyes running over the room as she took note of the Queen's pursed mouth. "We'll just… we can wait outside actually."
"Outside, right! We'll be just outside." Isabella chimed in, heading bowing as the brunette maid yanked her back and out of the room.
"Sorry for the intrusion!"
You stifled a snicker, watching as the young maids slipped back out of the Queen's chambers, shutting the grand doors as they went. Your aunt merely rolled her eyes at the bumbling maids.
Suddenly, her Majesty sniffed, and it was as if a switch had been flipped. All her maids ran towards her, offering handkerchiefs as if their life depended on it. You nearly laughed at such a ridiculous display of servitude, but seeing as you had spent well over a week in the palace, you had become accustomed to such theatrics.
"Whistledown is right about one thing, you know." Queen Charlotte said as her nose was blotted at. "Everyone needs to meet you. And meet you they shall."
In surprise, you pulled your eyes from the doting maids, "They shall?"
"Certainly. We shall have a ball. Here in the palace, of course."
You felt your stomach plummet into your leather-bound boots, your aunt's words echoing.
"All of London's marriage-minded ladies and lords are to be invited. We'll show Whistledown just how splendid you are. Oh! How glorious if you were to find a suitor! That certainly would put to rest that frozen title once and for all."
Just faintly, you could make out the sound of white noise buzzing, mixing with the words the Queen spoke. Anxiety flooded you, deafening your brain's attempts to self-soothe and rationalize that this wasn't the catastrophe you felt it was.
"Aunt Charlotte," you tried to swallow, but your mouth felt stripped of all moisture, "I… I'm not sure if that is wise–"
But it was as if she hadn't heard you, rambling on as if you hadn't objected, "I'll be arranging for etiquette and dance lessons since my beloved sister undoubtedly failed to do the same for you. Are you free this afternoon, darling?"
You stood for a moment, no doubt looking foolish as you struggled to get your words out, "I… I suppose I am…"
"Dear, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Are you feeling well?" The Queen cocked her head at you, eyes sizing you up with concern.
"I… I am not feeling my best." You admitted.
"That's the second time now. Growing up in the countryside— all that sun and dirt— it's made you weak of constitution. Hm. Very well. We'll wait until you're feeling better. In the meantime, I will begin planning!"
You averted your eyes politely as she bent over suddenly, inhaling a white powder off her tea tray through a nostril. She sat up with an exhale, eyes fluttering open with a smile.
"Oh, how I love having you come to stay in the palace for a change. I'm terribly bored these days, you know." She sighed. "Did you care to assist me with planning?"
Despite how you felt seconds from unearthing your already digested lunch, you managed an apologetic smile, "I'm not sure I'd be of much help. I'm afraid I've never hosted a party before."
"Yes, my dearly departed sister never cared much for such things, did she? Such a shame she raised you out of the aristocracy." She said.
A furrow found your brow.
"You're wrong, you know." You disagreed before you could think to hold your tongue. And just like that you had become a magnet, all eyes in the room snapping towards your frame.
"Oh? About?" The Queen offered you a pointed look.
"About the way I was raised. I wouldn't change a thing about it. My mother didn't fail me… she loved me. I had a mother and father who loved me. That was worth more to me than any new dress could ever." You said, gesturing to the gifted garment you adorned today, with perhaps a touch more spite than you should've.
Of two things those in the palace knew to be true. One— Her Majesty was not wrong. Ever. Her opinion was the first to seek and the only to matter. Anyone was someone because she said so, whether explicitly or subtly.
And two— her love for her niece ran deeper than even she anticipated, as watching you stand before her defiantly didn't fill her with rage as the staff in the room assumed, but rather with melancholy.
You looked like your mother just then. It seemed you reminded her of her sister more and more as the days rolled by.
"Your mother would be pleased to hear that." She merely replied, wondering if her sister might be looking down on you both at this moment. At her words, your entire demeanor softened.
"Very well. Off you go." Your Queen sniffed, a handkerchief at her nose within seconds.
Bowing, you moved to exit the room.
"And niece," she called one last time, causing you to turn around, "must you wear such unsightly footwear under your dress?"
You felt your face grow hot, muttering a quiet apology before exiting the room altogether.
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"Chin up, darling." Your aunt reminded you.
You followed her instructions coolly, hoping you didn't look nearly as nervous as you felt.
It was undoubtedly a soirée for the books; every square inch of the ballroom was gilded in gold, the chandeliers' gleam diffusing luxuriously as it bounced around the room.
Eligible men and women of all shapes and sizes had come from far and wide, donned in their absolute best; every possible hue of pink, blue and purple on display for Her Majesty. The ballroom looked akin to the royal grounds, you thought; the cool-toned dresses reminding you of upside-down bellflowers, floating across the marble floor in a synchronized dance.
Flocks of the most noticeable families and town figures had swarmed their way to the royal estate, drowning themselves in champagne as corseted woman fluttered their eyes at the Ton's lords.
But despite their poised smiles, neither woman nor man spared you more than a cautious glance and courteous bow. As the hours ticked by, you couldn't help but feel increasingly uneasy. Was it fear of Her Majesty sitting beside you that kept them away from you? Or was it the less than auspicious picture a certain faceless author had painted for them about you?
"It's rather hot in here, wouldn't you say?" The Queen spoke to you suddenly, looking larger than life from her magnificent throne.
"I suppose." You agreed absentmindedly, far too occupied with how a group of ladies' eyes flickered your way.
She continued, "Perhaps some champagne will cool you down. Why don't you fetch yourself a glass, dear?"
The meaning behind her words was clear. Go. Socialize.
"A splendid idea." You concurred.
Granting yourself one final shaky breath, you straightened up, walking towards the table where drinks were being freshly poured.
"What shall it be, my lady?" A servant greeted you politely as you reached it.
"A glass of champagne, please." You smiled, grateful for a friendly face, perhaps the first of the night.
The servant nodded, moving to open a new bottle.
"She doesn't even hold a title, you know. That Ice Princess."
You blinked, growing still as your ears caught wind of a conversation between party goers not far from you.
"But she's the Queen's niece?"
A sinking feeling washed over you, the kind that made all the other noise in the room disappear. You flirted briefly with abandoning your spot in the room altogether, but the bubbling pour of golden liquid into a glass kept you still. You thanked the servant with a halfhearted smile.
Bringing the glass to your mouth, you turned an ear to the three gossiping ladies, careful to avoid their gaze.
"Word has it her mother married out of the aristocracy." One of them babbled, pulling noises of disbelief from the others.
"Pity. Though, I suppose that explains the appalling way she walks in heels. You'd think she grew hooves from all that time she spent in the countryside." Another prattled. Stifled giggles rang around the group like they were all in some sort of secret, one that wasn't theirs to know. "Can you believe she thinks herself better than us?"
"One more glass, if you please." You asked the same servant, quickly making your way back to the Queen, now with a glass in either hand.
You approached her wordlessly, merely offering her a glass.
"Ah." She accepted the drink eagerly, and for a moment, there was silence, the two family members enjoying the cool velvety acidity of what was no doubt costly champagne.
"It appears the Ton thinks poorly of me." You blurted out.
You felt rather foolish telling this to your aunt. It wasn't as if you really cared what three cankerous aristocrats thought of you. But who else were you to tell? You knew no one.
Your Aunt Charlotte furrowed her delicately painted brow, "Darling, it'll do you well to realize that this Ton doesn't think. They merely reiterate what they've been told. They don't know you. Never mind what they think they know."
But her words went in one ear and out the other, merely background noise to the way you suddenly felt all eyes on you.
And suddenly, your dress was too tight, the ballroom too small. You felt your breath grow shallow, a sure sign of panic. How may others deemed you the subject of gossip tonight? What else were they saying about you?
"I think I should step out for a moment." You muttered.
"Take your maids with you!"
You were halfway across the room before you could even think to register your aunt's reply. Blinking away your tears, you pushed yourself through the crowd, muttering absentminded apologies as partygoers scoffed in protest.
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How small you felt sitting alone in the palace's rose gardens. You wept on a stone bench, wishing ever so badly that your mother was here, looking back with sorrow at how she used to pull you into her lap whenever you were upset. How she used to wrap her arms around you, and everything seemed better, if even for a moment.
How you missed her. How you missed your father. How you missed your life away from this shining, hollow palace.
But they were gone, and the simple life that awaited you back home was gone. Aunt Charlotte was all the family you had left. Without your parents, your home was gone.
"Oh! My lady… forgive me!"
A soft voice caused you to gasp, turning to face the man that had walked in on your self wallowing.
You were up on your feet in seconds, wiping away at your face.
"No… no, it is I who should apologize! I'm sorry you had to see me like that." Your cheeks burned.
"See you like what?" The mysterious raven-haired stranger pressed, a note of cheekiness to his tone. "Human? Heaven forbid."
You laughed gently, sniffling away your shame. You knew at once he was no threat to you.
The young lord wasn't exactly sure what had led him to the palace gardens; most of the event seemed to be taking place indoors as the night nipped and chilled unforgivingly. Still, a few stray bodies mingled underneath the string of lights that the palace servants had strung up. He had briefly greeted them, passing through the clouds of cigar smoke and small talk before bounding down limestone stairs.
He had tucked his hands into his pants pockets, sighing as the night's festivities grew quieter the further he slipped away, the crunch of wet grass kissing the underneath of his dress shoes. His mind was heavy with thoughts, hardly noticing where his legs had taken him.
It was the sound of your cries that pulled him from his thoughts and jerked him back to his senses.
He was in the Queen's rose garden; he immediately recognized the vibrant flowers and tall bushes. What he failed to recognize, however, was the weeping girl sitting on a stone bench, a look of embarrassment written plainly on her pretty face as she realized she was not alone.
He was quite handsome, you noticed despite your humiliation. He was younger than most of the lords inside, his face still featuring a certain softness despite his sharp features. His gaze was inherently kind, his warm brown eyes all but beckoning you to lower your guards.
"Lord Jeon.” He introduced himself with a bow, eyes never leaving yours. "Forgive me if I frightened you, my lady. I shall return at once and grant you your privacy."
You sank back down onto the bench, pulling the shawl wrapped around your shoulders closer. Your dress was beautiful— you were beautiful… puffy eyes, smeared makeup and all. He couldn't imagine why a lady like yourself would be weeping in the rose gardens unattended.
"It's alright. I supposed I'm not the only introvert at this party tonight. The garden is big enough for the two of us."
Lord Jeon shrugged, "A bit of fresh air is good for the soul."
You watched cautiously as he walked closer, sitting beside you on the opposite side of the bench.
"You know… I've been told I'm a decent listener." He said suddenly, brown eyes admiring the roses surrounding you.
You blinked, "Is that so?"
"Well… not explicitly. But I've got two ears, so I'd say I do alright." He teased.
You smiled softly, contemplating how much to reveal to this stranger.
"It's… I suppose I'm just a bit out of my element here."
"You?" He seemed surprised, a slight chuckle of disbelief accompanying his question.
"You laughed." You raised a brow.
He bit down on his lower lip as if contemplating his following words.
"Well, it's just… I can't imagine someone like you having trouble at these events." He confessed.
For a moment, you wondered what he could mean. Looking down at your lap, you realized he must be referring to your extraordinarily fanciful garments.
"Ah. These clothes were a gift, and this hair— well, none of this is me. Not really. Truly, I don't know why I came." You sighed.
He nodded, "Beginning to feel that way myself, actually. Most lose interest when they hear my name. I'm a bit of a nobody, it seems."
"Funny. It would appear you and I have the opposite problem." You nearly laughed.
"Uptown girl, are you?"
"I'm afraid I've got a bit of a reputation. And no one cares to know whether it's true or not." You said.
He let out a sigh.
"Terrible soirée full of terrible people. I can't say that doesn't happen here often."
You let his words hang in the night's cold air, your fingers intertwining themselves across your lap.
"Is that all?"
Your head turned to face him, growing warm to find him already looking at you.
"Forgive me, it's just," he continued, "your sadness… it feels heavier than you're letting on."
He watched as your body language changed, suddenly tense as if you had built your walls back up.
He was back up on his feet within seconds, his shoes coming into view by the bottom of your dress as he stood in front of you.
Swallowing down a sob, you allowed yourself to look up at him.
"May I?" He asked, extending a hand out as if wanting yours.
Hesitantly, you gave it to him, assuming you would be ushered back onto your feet. To your surprise, however, he merely flipped your hand over, your palm now facing the night sky.
Your eyes widened as he took a finger and traced a line onto your palm.
No. Not A line. A letter.
L-O-V-E-R-?
He wrote into your palm. You stared at your hand, skin still buzzing faintly from where his finger had run across.
His mother used to do such a thing when he was younger and much angrier, often struggling to say the words when something troubled him. He only hoped it would work for you the way he had for him.
Frowning, you shook your head. He wrote once again.
F-A-M-I-L-Y-?
A tear fell from you as if instinctively. You nodded your head, confirming his suspicions. Spurred on by his touch, you moved to grab his hand, flipping it upside down as he had done to yours.
L-O-N-E-L-Y you wrote.
"… I just wish I had a little bit longer with them." You found yourself saying once you had finished.
"No time is enough when it comes to the people you love." He spoke with heart as if referring to his own personal melancholy.
Another tear fell from your eyes as his thumb ran over your palm, not to spell anything but to offer his condolences.
"No. I suppose not." You sniffed, a shiver running over you as a crisp breeze passed the two of you.
He wrote into your palm again.
C-O-L-D-?
You let out a laugh, shrugging dismissively.
"Here." Lord Jeon suddenly peeled his suit jacket off his shoulders. You froze, stunned silent as he gently draped it over your shoulders, a gentle smile on his face.
Your chest tightened, moved by the gesture of kindness. But before you could think to thank him, his warm fingers were at your palm once more.
F-R-I-E-N-D-?
His smile tugged at your heartstrings. You wondered how anyone inside could possibly look down on him. You didn't need to know his name to see that he was kind, a worthy suitor for any marriage-minded aristocrat.
F-R-I-E-N-D. You wrote back.
Happy was the girl who sat on the cement bench of the palace's rose garden, wrapped up warm under the jacket of the first person to show you genuine, unconditional kindness since arriving weeks ago.
The two strangers sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the quiet of company. Neither of you knew the other, but there was comfort in the silhouettes of the adjacent shadows at your feet, knowing that neither had ill intent towards the other.
"Do you ever wonder what it might be like to live in a palace?"
You fell stiff, mute as you turned towards him, watching how he looked over at the illuminated estate.
"Lonely."
"You think?" He pondered.
"I'm not fond of big empty rooms. They tend to make me feel small." You explained quietly.
"Well, should I ever have a palace, there would be no empty rooms. Every room with music and the sound of children's laughter. I would decree it so."
"Children? And where do you figure you might obtain those?" You chuckled.
"Well, they'd be mine, of course." He grinned lopsidedly.
You grinned back at him. "Then the happiest of children they would be."
You suppose the young lord reminded you somewhat of a child. He was a man by every definition of the word, standing tall and proud, but there was something about the way his large eyes took in the palace that was decidedly childlike. Eyes wide and glimmering with awe.
You watched contently as he suddenly noticed the silver plated container that sat by the leg of the bench; an unopened bottle of champagne sat neatly in a bed of ice, several glasses along side it.
Your dear aunt thought of everything when it came to party planning, you were coming to find out.
"Shall we?" He smirked suggestively.
"I don't see why not." You laughed.
The two of you giggled as he attempted to open the bottle, champagne spilling everywhere. He tried to pour you a glass neatly, but your new friend had no future in bartending, champagne spilling over the glass' edge and onto your fingers.
Sticky but smiling, you brought your glass up, mirroring him.
"A toast." He decided, his own glass now only half full from his carelessness.
"To?" You questioned.
He contemplated for a moment, meeting your inquisitive eyes innocently. A boyish smile broke out across his face.
"To us, of course. Tonight's most undesirables." He declared, making you chuckle.
But before you could touch glasses…
"Your highness!"
Your eyes went wide, your stomach dropping as a certain blond maid came scrambling into the garden.
"Isabella! Please! Just 'my lady' will do." Heat rocketed up your neck, ears no doubt hot to the touch.
Her hands fell to her knees, clearly out of breath from running around the palace grounds, undoubtedly in search of you.
"My lady, I should advise you to return to the party. Her Majesty the Queen has someone she wants you to meet." She cautioned.
You cursed internally.
"Of course, she does. Give me just a moment then. I'll be over shortly."
The young maid's eyes flickered over to Lord Jeon, cheeks rosy.
"But your highness—"
"Thank you, Isabella." You cut her off curtly.
The young maid gave you two one more final look over before nodded, pardoning herself with a curtesy.
Hesitantly, you turned back towards Lord Jeon, unsure what to make of the look of disbelief clearly written across his face.
Awkwardly, you brought your glass to your mouth, taking a cautious sip.
"Your highness? You're a princess?" He gawked, eyes still wide.
"No!" You quipped. "Not… technically?"
The young lord merely blinked at you, his doe eyes telling you everything his mouth wasn't.
You were rambling before you could help yourself.
"M-My mother is the Queen's sister. Technically speaking, she held the title of 'Princess.' Though, I suppose if my mother were born a man then, yes, that would make me a princess— titles are patriarchal in nature, it's all… very complicated, really…"
You felt like you couldn't take in a deep enough breath, the chilly air now burning your lungs.
"So… not a princess. Just… daughter of a princess." He reiterated, clearly stunned.
You felt a frown form on your face, all your etiquette instructor's reminders of poise and manners slipping from your mind.
"I am the Queen's niece. We shall leave it at that."
The handsome lord had the most fascinated look on his face, eyes locked on the way your jaw twitched, mouth shut rigidly to hold back the slew of word vomit you instinctively felt compelled to let out.
The way he held your eyes – the intensity behind his dark orbs – made you uneasy yet engrossed you all the same.
You bit down on the side of your cheek, "Are you upset that I didn't tell you?"
He shook his head suddenly as if trying to shake off his shock.
"No. I'm not."
"Are you… disappointed?" You grimaced.
You hadn't the faintest clue as to what was running around in his handsome head.
"Disappointed?" He cocked his head.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what the hell you're thinking right now, and it's frankly unnerving." You frowned.
The raven-haired man let out a noise that toed the line between amusement and disbelief.
"I think you owe me a toast… your highness." He teased.
Rolling your eyes, you failed to fight back a smile, bringing your champagne glass up to meet his, his smirk assuring you that whoever your aunt wished you to meet could wait a moment or two.
the strange man of monterrey manor [hwang hyunjin]
summary: willoughby, 1799 — life as the heiress of a disgraced house has not been kind to you. you’re neglected, unwanted, and used as a bargaining chip for your father to weasel his way out of the debt he owes the moment you come of age. it takes a turn for the stranger when you’re chosen to wed the owner of the manor atop the mountain — a mysterious, eccentric, cruel lord no one has ever seen. whisked away to the dark and cold house and wed to a stranger, your questions become more and more. why is hyunjin the way that he is? what are the strange noises that echo through the house late at night? and why does your heart begin to beat faster whenever he’s nearby?
pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader
genre: romance, historical drama, suspense, mystery, horror, regency!au, arrangedmarriage!au
warnings (for this chapter): period typical sexism, minor themes of christianity, arranged marriage, implied side chanlix, minor language, implied dysfunctional family/child neglect
song rec: taemin - shadow ♡ hozier - nina cried power
word count: 7.6k
a/n: sorry for taking so long :’) i had SO much fun researching and writing this. i’m a sucker for historical accuracy and the regency era, so i did a lot of browsing and reading. this piece is a bit more experimental than what i tend to write. i was trying to emulate the writing styles of regency era authors but still make it seem casual enough to not confuse people whose first language might not be english. and yes, i NEEDED to add in chanlix. because if not, i would have shipped chan with the reader and also bc i love them. if you’d like to be tagged in the next chapters, pls let me know!!
masterlist
chapter one: a marriage most foul
The three knocks at the door rang throughout the halls of Thorn House. It was heard throughout the entire estate; from the drawing room to the master bedroom. You knew it had been heard from the drawing room, for that was where you had been painting. And you knew it had been heard from the master bedroom, for the sound of your mother’s footsteps making their way down the stairs were not missed by you.
You attempted to pay it no mind, assuming it was simply a friend of hers, or a business partner of your father’s. But the sound of voices murmuring quietly could not be ignored. Especially not when two voices—those of your mother’s and the chambermaid’s—could be recognized, but the third could not.
The voice was deep, warm. No discernable words could be heard, and despite the gentle tone, a feeling of dread still grew in the pit of your stomach. It amplified when footsteps approached the drawing room, and the doors opened, to reveal the chambermaid.
“Ma’am,” The young girl said, “Your mother requests your presence.”
You blinked, wondering what was going on, before nodding. “Of course, Abigail,” You replied, “I’ll be down briefly.”
Abigail nodded, closing the door. You turned to the rag you’d set on the floor, doing your best to wipe the smudges of paint from your hands. You inspected your dress briefly, looking for any paint that might have found its way onto the fabric, relieved when you found none. Sighing to yourself, you threw down the rag, before exiting the drawing room, and making your way to the foyer.
When you turned the hall, and started down the staircase, your eyes searched the floor. You found your mother and Abigail waiting for you at the base of the steps, and the stranger a few feet away from them. The three of them turned their heads to look at you, their conversation dying down.
The young man was handsome, but not very tall. Not from what you could see, at least. A round nose and dimples accompanying his cordial smile settled the nerves in your gut ever so slightly, but his attire did not. He was dressed to the nines, his dark blue coat and matching pants obviously well kept, well-tailored.
You made it to the bottom of the staircase, and gave the three a kind smile. You faced the stranger, giving him a curtsy. “Good afternoon, sir.”
The man gave a slight bow in return, but before he could answer, your mother piped up.
“Y/N.” Her voice had that tone she reserved for when she was with company. Quiet, polite, but still stern and with a hint of coldness.
“This is Mr. Bang. He’s here because… well…”
You looked at the stranger once more. He smiled back at your mother, slightly sheepish. “Please, Mrs. L/N, call me Christopher. I see no point in formalities, given the circumstances."
You furrowed your eyebrows ever so slightly. What was going on? "Pardon my callousness, sir,” You replied cautiously, “But what are the circumstances?”
Your mother gave you a harsh side-eye, but Mr. Bang shook his head, kind smile not leaving his face. “Miss L/N, allow me to explain. You see, I come on behalf of my master, Lord Hwang Hyunjin. He’s been looking for a bride for some time now, and has heard of your beauty and talents. He’s quite enamored. I come to request your hand on his behalf.”
You blinked, eyes turning darker. Yes, you’d heard of Hwang Hyunjin. Who hadn’t? He seemed to be a figment of everyone’s imagination. No one had ever met the man, but everyone knew he was rich beyond comparison. He never left his home, a large manor at the top of the mountain, instead sending his servants into town for him. You’d seen one before, a young boy with a warm smile and freckles, but you’d never met Mr. Christopher Bang.
Before your mother could reply with pointless flattery, you spoke up once more. “How… thoughtful of him. However, I must ask. If he is as enamored as you say, why has he sent you on his behalf, rather than coming here himself?”
“Y/N.” Your mother’s head snapped to look at you as she spoke. “There’s no need to—”
“Please, madam,” The man interjected, with a soft laugh, “It is a reasonable concern. I don’t mind answering! Not at all. Miss, Lord Hwang would have loved to come see you in person. It brings him great shame to not do so. But you see, Miss, my master is ill; he’s always been rather sickly, and since his childhood he’s struggled with an illness that makes it difficult for him to step into the sun. It causes awful reactions on the skin and could kill him, should he be out too long. Photosensitivity, I believe it’s called; a dreadful thing, really.”
“I see,” You murmured, nodding your head. Your head could make sense of it, but you still felt as if things were slightly off. You couldn’t shake the feeling, no matter how hard you tried.
“I do, however, have a set of letters. One for your father, and another for you, Miss.” Mr. Bang fished a pair of envelopes from his coat pocket, handing one to you and the other to your mother. “I do apologize for my master’s… unorthodox manner of approaching your family. Truly, he means well.”
Your mother waved her hand as she faced Mr. Bang. “There is no need, Christopher. Will you be in town again sometime this week? I’m sure my husband would rather discuss this with you, rather than have me mediate between you both.”
“I will, actually; in three days’ time. I have some business in the town over that morning, I’m sure I could stop in the evening and discuss the matter with him.”
You sighed silently, hoping neither of them would notice. Here they were discussing your potential marriage, something that would make or break the rest of your life, and you weren’t even being given a say in the matter. You may as well have been one of the deer heads on the wall, a prize, no better than livestock; packaged and delivered, meant to be seen and not heard, no one wanting to know your desires or opinion.
Mr. Bang left soon after, bidding you and your mother farewell in a manner that would have many young women swooning at his charm. But the second the door closed behind him, a scowl graced your face. You turned to your mother, who had a seemingly opposite reaction. Her eyes were filled with what seemed to be hope, maniacal glee cast over her face.
“He can’t be serious.”
Your mother frowned, the joy leaving her face. “Y/N, you will wed that man.”
“Who’s to say?” You countered, crossing your arms. You were vaguely aware of Abigail excusing herself, evidently not wanting to witness the argument about to begin.
“If not me, your father. Y/N, you’ve driven every other suitor away with your bullheaded attitude and lack of decorum. Here is our last chance, and it’s a fine chance at that. If you wed Lord Hwang, then—”
“I’ll be locked away in a lonely old house at the top of a mountain to a sickly man who can’t even bring himself to show his face to his bride. Is that what you want for me, mother?”
“It’s not about what I want.” Her tone had turned icy within a matter of seconds. “You know your father’s money is gone. Lord Hwang has a sizable estate, and has plenty of money… If you wed him, his money would clear our debt and we could live comfortably again.”
“You and father could live comfortably again. At my expense,” You huffed, turning on your heel and starting up the staircase. “I’ll not go through with this!”
“You have no choice. You will marry Lord Hwang, or I will die trying to have it done.”
Continuar lendo
Hey who wants a Star Wars/Bridgerton crossover? Too bad, you're getting one because I finished S2 the other day and I'm having Thoughts about "Regency but actual historicity only matters when it gives us cause for drama" and, of course, Ahsoka Tano.
(You probably don't need to have watched Bridgerton to understand this.)
We take some post-war no-66 AU Disaster Trio+Padme-and-the-twins And have them do a 'diplomacy' visit to a rather old-fashioned planet that was hit by Separatists (mostly they set up a base in Antarctica, but a few ships did get shot down over populated areas so...) and the sapient population is mostly humans that have been cut off from the rest of the galaxy for so long that they didn't know other planets were even inhabited, let alone so widely.
Now that they know, they'd like to trade, etc. The safest way to do that, in order to do things like 'acquire spaceships and not be raided by space pirates' is to reach out to the recovering galactic republic.
For the purposes of plot, we'll say that Earth (Terra) does have some raw materials that are useful for whatever reason. IDK. Space needs all the coal they can get for raw carbon to make bacta or some similar nonsense.
Obviously, they need to be assessed to see if they can abide by Republic law in order to be viable to trade with and gain ship access etc. This is complicated by the fact that there is not a singular planetary government, but many, many, many fractured ones. Most of the bigger ones appear to have gotten that way through imperial conquest, which is... not great. The solution is to send some senators and jedi to make overtures to multiple governments, convince them to hold some sort of global congress (proto-UN) in order to set up at least a representative body that the Galactic Republic can interact with, in order to do things like Make America (and many others) Stop Doing A Slavery.
Padme, bringing along her former-Jedi husband Anakin (and through him, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, who are there as The Jedi, since Anakin isn't officially a Jedi anymore, because he has a wife and children, and also some clones there as support, and a few handmaidens), is the Senator chosen to go to Regency England.
Who, since the king is... not well (he's old and has days where he thinks he's forty or thirty or twenty again, due dementia or Alzheimer's or something), is ruled primarily by Bridgerton's interpretation of Queen Charlotte, who dresses a few decades out of style purely to be dramatic and extra af in 1800s court dress, and is also mixed race, which has led to Bridgerton-the-show's England being racially egalitarian, even though the classism is still a huge issue.
Anyway, this is Queen Charlotte:
The core of the awkward plot is that in order to get the queen to work with them, they have to play by her rules and engage with London's court games, with all the ballroom dances and promenade, etc.
Since Ahsoka is Of A Marriagable Age, she has to attend things, and dance with people, and she can't just tell people that Jedi Don't Marry (and she's a Jedi again, she's finishing her padawanhood with Obi-Wan, the war is over and she's back and she is going to be a knight, dammit) because that would ruin Queen Charlotte's fun, so she has to play along for at least a few weeks.
There is a lot of Hot Gossip about how she's... well, she's not human, sure, but her brother seems to be wealthy, so maybe the dowry is good? And for anyone who wants to explore, marrying her would be a ticket off planet! Ahsoka at one point tells everyone that any man who wants to marry her needs to beat her at fencing, arm wrestling, or straight up brawling. Anakin and Obi-Wan and Padme all approve, and the Queen thinks it's hilarious so nobody can like... stop her.
Much drama is had about her wanting to just bring along one of the troopers as her socially-necessary escort to things, because those are men! Who could take advantage of a young lady like herself! Someone does try to get her alone for an entrapment plot but when people walk in on them as planned, she's got him in an armbar and refuses to explain why but. Whatever was happening, it wasn't that kind of inappropriate.
Eventually the Queen deliberately lets slip that actually, Jedi can't marry, and all of the money in Skywalker's hands is actually Amidala's (there might be some switcheroos going on where people don't realize that Padme's the senator instead of Anakin, because gender things in Regency England, and also she's definitely swapping out with the handmaidens to get servant secrets), and so if anyone wants a dowry, it'll have to be by getting her good favor, not just Skywalker and Kenobi's.
Something something "but you're a general, Kenobi, shouldn't you be a man of wealth and taste, like all of our great military leaders?" "...we're monks." (Various marriage-minded mamas try to get their daughters into his affections. They do not succeed. Anakin eventually drops a joke that if Obi-Wan was very going to marry, it would have been to Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore, who is definitely still alive here, and who has basically proposed to him twice, and the instances were twenty years apart, and since that hasn't happened, Obi-Wan definitely isn't marrying, ever.)
Someone asks Ahsoka whom she would marry if she did have to follow Regency England rules, where she's got to marry Up, and she lists off just. Boys that she's managed to save the lives of, since apparently she can only marry a boy with these rules.
1. Lux Bonteri (Anakin counters that she's too good for him)
2. The Prince of Mon Cala (shot down because togruta and Mon Calamari can't procreate, and an heir is necessary for Regency rules, which they are required to follow here)
3. Korkie Kryze (Anakin decides this is the least objectionable option)
Ahsoka finishes by saying that if she had to marry but didn't have to follow Regency Rules, she'd just marry, like, Rex or something. Rex gives her a fist bump for this declaration.
"Whaddaya say, Rexter, you wanna get hitched?" "Well, I don't have anything else on my schedule for tomorrow. Senator Amidala can probably officiate. Think I can get a lightsaber if I'm married to a Jedi?" "Worth a shot!"
(They don't actually get married but man do I love Rex and Ahsoka being Absolute Besties.)
There are also Bridgerton-character-specific plots in my head that probably don't make sense unless you've seen the show but I'll describe a few with hopefully enough detail to work for the people who are only here for Star Wars.
This is Colin Bridgerton. He is the third son of a Viscount (though his father died, so now the Viscount is his eldest brother), and his big thing was that he wanted to go traveling. He did a trip to Greece and greatly enjoyed it. His primary role in the show is as a potential love interest for two young women, Marina Thompson and Penelope Featherington. He would be interested in Ahsoka possibly due to the opportunity to See The Stars. He's a much more genial kind of guy than most of the men we see, though there's still some casual Rich Boy moments. He's generally polite, kind, and even funny.
This is Penelope Featherington. She is secretly the author "Lady Whistledown," who anonymously pens a gossip column that the ton reads religiously. She is young (mid teens, though the actress is mid-thirties) and clever, but she's a wallflower who currently has no marriage prospects. She'd be invested in the opportunity to enter a society where she can earn money etc. without it causing her to lose her status and possibly being able to do things like Inherit, which she can't in Regency England.
Eloise Bridgerton! Colin's younger sister (she's the fifth child of eight) and Penelope's best friend (until an incident late in the second season), a budding activist. She's very 'baby's first step into feminism,' and she gets into a decent amount of trouble in the second season by 'consorting with political radicals' who advocate for women's emancipation, etc. She'd be very interested in Padme and the handmaidens, and learning that Padme is the chosen representative (either directly elected, or picked by an elected queen) of an entire sector.
Benedict Bridgerton (second son) is an art student who is... you know what Gil's like in Paris? Like that, but for real. I don't think he has any interest in leaving the planet or marrying one of the SW cast, but he is probably pretty interested in scoring with a Nabooan handmaiden.
Genevieve, the modiste. She's a dressmaker by trade, pretending to be French because the ton is fickle and people won't buy if she admits she's English. I feel like she'd strike up a friendship with Padme's team on the basis of providing guidance on what the Rules Of Propriety are in this period to the wardrobe team.
The Prince (whose name I forget), a Prussian royal that is Queen Charlotte's nephew. She keeps trying to set him up with an English noblewoman so he spends more time in the country instead of going back to the continent. I don't think she'd try to set him up with a star wars person, but I do think it would be very funny if he falls for one of Padme's girl gang.
Portia Featherington, Penelope's mother. Her family's fallen on some hard times (her now-dead husband gambled away most of their money, including the dowries), and she's very conniving and scheming and all such things in order to get her family back to a good place. She's a bitch about it, but she's also usually right, and S2 ends on a note that has her putting her daughters before everything. I'm not sure what her exact plot would be here, but getting one of the girls married off to a Star Wars person probably features.
The Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton (the mother of the aforementioned Bridgertons) and THE BITCH HERSELF, Lady Danbury.
They like to matchmake (they've twice gotten one of Violet's kids married off to Lady Danbury's... charges? Her godson, and then a family she was 'sponsoring' due to a scandal from twenty years earlier).
Lady Danbury is also something of a friend? Ish? To the Queen, and one of the only people that gets to talk back and get away with it. She is magnificent.
Anyway, I think they'd be delighted with the idea of like. Joining forces with Padme and Anakin to matchmake local girls who want to Get Out Of Here with one of the clone troopers.
Trouble In Paradise [Simon Riley]
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HOTD Regency AU
The Targaryen family, known to breed the finest warhorses in Westeros, face a crisis after both the oldest sons, Aemon and Baelon, die in their prime, leaving behind a daughter, Rhaenys, and two sons, Viserys and Daemon, respectively, to inherit the estate after the death of their grandfather, Jaehaerys. Their grandfather, after extensive consultation with his business associates and lawyers, makes a will favoring Viserys, his eldest grandson and not his eldest grandchild, Rhaenys, who is married to the fierce, irascible and wealthy Admiral Corlys Velaryon, twenty years her senior. The admiral is only persuaded to drop his plan of fighting Jaehaerys's will when Daemon Targaryen announces his betrothal to Rhea Royce, wealthy heiress of Runestone, and says he will fight his brother's battles up to the highest court in the land. This leads to a severe estrangement among the cousins, with Rhaenys and her husband settling on his estate of Driftmark, which she soon fills with a son and daughter, Laena and Laenor.
Things are not so easy for Viserys, who is married to his cousin, Aemma--they have one daughter, Rhaenyra, whom they both adore. Viserys is advised to try for a son by his legal advisor, Otto Hightower, who does not feel Daemon Targaryen, the finest swordsman and horseman in the land, quite fit for the task of running the Targaryen estate. Daemon would rather fight wars than breed horses; he leaves the running of his estate to the Targaryen bailiff, Beesbury, while staying away from his family to fight for any army that would have him on their side. He avoids his betrothed, Miss Royce, and spends his time spoiling his niece, Rhaenyra, who is left to the care of governesses and nursemaids, while her mother unsuccessfully tries to reproduce the all-important Targaryen male heir.
Eventually, Aemma dies in the endeavor, and Viserys is left to bring up his eight-year-old daughter on his own. It is at this time that Otto advises him to make a will naming his daughter his heir by informing Viserys of Daemon's behavior on campaign, which is causing a scandal. At the same time, he introduces his accomplished eighteen year old daughter to Viserys as a suitable governess for eight year old Rhaenyra. It takes Viserys no more than seven months after his wife's death to fall in love with and wed Alicent Hightower, who soon presents him with his longed-for heir. Rhaenyra is soon shunted off to a suitable school to become a young lady and be married off when she is of age; Otto hopes that, by that time, he can get Viserys to change his will in favor of Aegon, Alicent's son.
For Rhaenyra, school leads to a meeting with her cousin Laena and happy holidays spent at the Velaryon estate of Driftmark. Rhaenys also introduces Rhaenyra to her mother's cousin, Jeyne Arryn, who is managing her own estates. Rhaenyra tries to visit her father and stepmother only when she must, preferring to spend her time with the Velaryons or Miss Arryn. It is on one of her infrequent visits home that Rhaenyra is instrumental in sending their old steward's only child, Criston, to public school, to better his condition, and also makes the acquaintance of the Strongs--Lyonel and his sons, Larys and Harwin--in the course of a hunt. She soon learns that Harwin, who was educated at school, has joined the army and is a soldier like her uncle, while Larys, educated at home, is studying law under Otto and hopes to become his junior partner. Lyonel retired as a judge and is now living on his family estate of Harrenhal
As she grows up, Rhaenyra is expected to make a suitable match, but finds no one she likes. In the meantime, Daemon returns; his long absence in the battlefield led Rhea Royce to break their engagement and wed her cousin instead. His arrival is a source of joy to Rhaenyra, and to her cousin Laena, neither of whom are impressed by the young men of the ton they have met so far. He makes it his business to escort both young ladies to various fashionable places and show them the world, accompanied by Rhaenys and Corlys. However, his reputation as a womanizer has followed him from the battlefield back home; it does not take long for Otto Hightower, who has become Viserys’s constant companion, to hint that Daemon’s attentions to Rhaenyra might not be entirely honorable. This forces Viserys to call her home and force her engagement to Laenor Velaryon, who is home on shore leave. Laenor, who is in love with a fellow officer, Joffrey Lonmouth, is not eager for the match and neither is Rhaenyra, but Otto succeeds in creating a whispering campaign in their circle that pushes the marriage through. Daemon marries Laena and settles at Driftmark, while Rhaenyra and Laenor settle at Dragonstone, which is closer to the Red Keep. In the meantime,Otto tries to use Rhaenyra’s closeness to Daemon to convince Viserys to change his will in favour of Aegon, which Viserys refuses to do. He then demands that Otto hand over all his legal documents to him, dismisses him as his lawyer and hands the papers over to Lyonel Strong.
Laenor had hoped that, after marrying Rhaenyra, he would be able to live a life of his own with Joffrey Lonmouth, However, his hopes are dashed when Lonmouth is killed in a duel with Criston Cole a day before Laenor’s wedding to Rhaenyra. It appears that Cole had a brief affair with Rhaenyra while she was with Daemon. She’d been responsible for her father selecting him, their late steward’s son, to study in a public school and then a university and take holy orders; he had approached her to thank her, which eventually led to their affair. His feelings for her turned to hurt and bitterness when she refused to marry him and lead the quiet life of a curate’s wife. He reveals all this to Alicent on his return home; Alicent urges him to prayer and to seek employment as the Red Keep’s curate. She also puts him in charge of educating her children.
In the meantime, Harwin Strong returns from war and Rhaenyra offers him the post of bailiff of Dragonstone. Laenor, who has not recovered from Joffrey’s death, soon returns to war and is killed in action. After a suitable period of mourning, Rhaenyra marries Harwin, much to the scandal of the neighborhood. However, the Velaryons--especially Rhaenys and Laena--who were aware of Laenor’s proclivities--remain her friends, while Alicent and Otto continue to drop hints of her moral depravity. Rhaenyra’s marriage to Harwin leads to the birth of three boys, while Laena has twin girls. The cousins and childhood friends make plans to betroth Rhaenyra’s two eldest sons to Laena’s girls.
In the meantime, Larys, who has been working with Otto, reveals to Alicent that the Targaryen estate, which Viserys received from his grandfather Jaehaerys on his death, which includes the estates of the Red Keep and Dragonstone, will be given to Rhaenyra when Viserys dies. Viserys had made this will soon after Rhaenyra’s mother Aemma died in childbirth, trying to bring forth a male heir. Alicent then tries to convince Viserys of the wisdom of remaking his will in favor of her children, cutting out Rhaenyra and her children, as well as Daemon and his offspring, because she knows that Laena and Rhaenyra plan to wed their two oldest children to each other and they will inherit Driftmark after Admiral Velaryon dies. Although she and Harwin are living in Dragonstone and Rhaenyra is an excellent manager and landlord, she does not need the estate as much as Alicent’s boys do. She also wants to punish Rhaenyra for what she did to Criston Cole, who is now the tutor to her children. Rhaenyra’s children are taught by Mr Gerardys, Dragonstone’s vicar...
Regency AU
Paul Atreides, Duke of Arrakis after the death of his father Leto, is the sole support of his ferocious mama, Lady Jessica, his young sister Alia and his twins by his deceased wife, Chani Kynes--Leto and Ghanima. His Corrino cousins--Irulan, Wencisia, Chalice, Josifa and Rugi--enter his life all of a sudden, because Irulan, as the eldest daughter of the late Shaddam Corrino, Duke of Kaitain, is expected to marry Paul's mother's cousin, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, heir to her father, Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. The baron, in pursuit of this ambition, has been busily buying up all the Corrino debt to force her agreement. When Irulan lays this issue before him and asks for his help, Paul is quite prepared to tell her to take her woes elsewhere, when his mother intervenes and demands he act.
Regency AU
Ned Stark, who owns iron mills and coal mines in the North, arrives for the season in London, bringing his wife and daughters with him. Sansa is just eighteen--she is to make her social debut. Cersei Lannister-Baratheon, the wife of Ned's schoolmate, Robert, is a Patroness of Almack's--she is reputed to be very exacting about a young lady's general deportment, behaviour and family when issuing vouchers. That's not a problem for Sansa, who's the best-behaved young woman in the kingdom, but it is for Arya, her younger sister, who would rather race, fence, shoot or whatever, than behave like a young lady. In any case, Sansa has more proposals in her first month in Town than any other young lady up for the Season--from the Tyrells to the Arryns to the Lannisters... So what happens when Arya bets one of Sansa's swains that she will race him to Brighton and back? And what happens when Ned, Robb and Theon land up in trousers at Almack's and Jon is the only family member in knee breeches on hand to escort Sansa and Cat to Almack's?
Regency AU 2
Lord Eddard Stark, whose family has become wealthy (over the last fifty years or so) because of coalfields and textile factories, brings his wife and daughters to London for the Season. He will be busy in the House of Lords--Jory Cassel is his secretary-cum-bodyguard. Bran and Rickon are at Eton/Harrow/being tutored at home. Robb is in Spain, fighting alongside Wellington and Grand-Uncle Brynden. Jon is with Uncle Benjen, fur-trapping in Canada. Sansa is ecstatic at the thought of clothes and parties, while Arya would rather ride a race to Brighton or fight a duel. Cersei is one of the Patronesses at Almack's, who must decide if Sansa is accepted into the ton or not. Renly and Loras are Dandies; Jaime is a Corinthian; Tyrion is a liberal and a rake. Margaery has been the reigning beauty of the Ton for the last two or three years--she's looking to settle down. Brienne cannot aspire to join the ton as a debutant, but she assists Catelyn in planning Sansa's coming out and acts as her chaperone. Her skills with a sword turn out to be useful when Sansa's many admirers make themselves a nuisance.
Regency AU 3
Jaime, Ned and Robert are three officers in Wellington's army in Spain, who have been sent to Britain to perform some service for their general--get Parliament to grant more men and money to the war effort. Whilst in London to do business, the three enjoy the Season to the full--attending balls, parties and races. Cue lots of encounters with Brandon (horse and carriage races and card games); Catelyn and Lysa (Jaime is supposed to pay court to the latter); Cersei, who is on the lookout for the biggest catch of the Season and Lyanna, who becomes the toast of London without intending to do so. Benjen, Tyrion, Edmure and Renly can also be included--because these boys refuse to be left out of the fun. Stannis, as a naval officer, could also be part of the gang, trying unsuccessfully to get Robert to behave soberly, as befits a great lord.
This.
Arcane AU I won't write but patiently wait for
Regency Era AU.
Silco in a dapper regency suit. Need I say more?
Jinx shooting better than any of the men and having a fearsome rep for it.
Ekko and his gang riding around on horseback like highwaymen.
The sass around pump rooms.
(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Balls!
Class struggle! Anti monarchy Silco, my beloved...
Seriously, need I say more?
But yeah, can't write it. For all that I'm very well read in the genre and seen about every last BBC mini series set in the era, I'd need way too much research for it so.
I will patiently wait for the good soul who does the lord's work though
“Love At First Sight” (tewksburys version)
VISCOUNT TEWKSBURY X F!READER
- more tewks imagines coming soon cus y’all seem to love them lemme know if you guys want me to write for louis’s other characters or just him in general:) just msg me requests !
cw/tw: mention of deceased father (unedited)
it was his eighth ball that day and he was already annoyed by how he was bombarded by desperate mamas and their daughters. he did want true love. but he didn’t want to be forced into finding it which is exactly what was happening, the House of Lords are practically forcing him to at least get engaged.
but no girl made his heart skip a beat besides… enola holmes but she made it clear that she wasn’t going to settle down at all and that was ok for him. her friendship was enough for him, more than enough.
he drank from the fancy golden cup. he was never a big drinker but he needed to be at least tipsy to get through this never ending nightmare. what he really wanted was to go back to basilwether hall.
tewksbury watched as more ladies and lords entered the huge ball room. his eyes widened when he saw a tall h/c girl walk into the room with who he thinks is her mother. the way she moved was enchanting.
he noticed that the other lords dropped conversation with each other and went to ask for the girls dance card. tewksbury thought she was perfect her looks were enchanting and he only hoped that she was kind and well educated. his mom walked up to him with a smile asking him about how he’s feeling.
“how are you enjoying the ball have you meet anyone” caroline smiled tewksbury nodded.
“yes well- no but i have found my viscountess” he grinned.
“lady fiona? she’s pretty but very uh- slowed minded or are you talking about lady emma? i doubt she’d be responsible enough to-“ she was cut off mid sentence by her son.
“the girl in light purple mother the one talking to sir john” he watched as you held conversation with the older gentleman. “she’s perfect do you know her?”.
“that’d be lady y/n daughter of thomas l/n the late baron, he’s recently deceased but he knew your father” she drank wine from her cup. “go introduce yourself she seems to be the most popular pick”
•
he did exactly that he walked across the room to talk to you. he noticed you were talking to another young lady in yellow, he bowed and introduced himself to the ladies “tewksbury the viscount of basilwether” the women in yellow excused herself and left leaving you and tewksbury.
“lady y/n l/n your grace” you bowed to him smiling very softly not wanting to look to interested, after a while you guys made good conversation about books and his love of flowers you thought that was adorable.
the other ladies and their mamas gave you dirty looks because you captured the viscounts attention and possibly his heart. all you wanted was a husband who valued you and not just your face and body, but marriage was also your duty you needed a man with a title it’s what your father would’ve wanted.
“may i say you are most beautiful lady y/n but your mind is what attracts me to you the most” you smiled that sentence made you want to jump for joy. he kissed your gloved hand which made you blush. “What was your opinion on the reform bill?” you tensed up because most suiters asked this but for the wrong reasons. “in all honesty my lord i would be for it i believe all men and women deserve equal rights” you stood straighter fixing your relaxed posture.
“i was for it to lady y/n, would do me the honor of accompanying me to my mothers tea party tomorrow she has the most lovely garden” he smiled in his head he knew he was going to be marrying you it was like a storybook he experienced love at first sight he only hoped you at least liked him. “i would be most honored viscount just give my mama all the details”.
* 2 days later
your wore your prettiest dress, another purple dress but this time it was slightly darker and more form fitting in the bust area.
your ladies maid brushed your hair and put in a white ribbon to tie it all together in your mothers words you were “simply perfect , good enough to be a viscountess”.
the butler got the carriage ready to leave for basilwether hall, you were excited to see tewksbury again for some odd reason.
“y/n darling, tewksbury is a very wealthy and important man you’d bring honor to our family name if he decides to marry you” she said smiling moving stray hairs away from your face.
“im aware mother, trust me if i could make him fall for me i would” you sighed and took the servants hand to get into the carriage.
your mother got into the carriage after you. all you wanted was to make her proud so if that meant marrying tewksbury then so be it, HE MUST BE YOURS. i mean he was good looking and rich you’d learn to be happy with him.
*
BASHILWETHER HALL:
tewksbury was sweating bricks he was so nervous to see you again he spent all morning helping his servants prepare for the tea party, he made sure all the flowers on the outside table matched the color of cloth. he had asked your mama about your favorite foods and about your favorite colors and things.
the servants prepared red velvet cake, apricot tarts, strawberries and plenty of fresh fruits all of your favorites . his mama thought tewksburys plans of winning over y/n were adorable. “my little boy all grown up and looking for a wife”
tewksbury wore his favorite suit and fixed his hair he wanted to look his best for you. everything was going so well until he suddenly felt a wave of nervousness he felt this way the day he told enola how he felt about her … the day she told him that she’d never feel the same way and that she’d never marry anyone, what if you reject him? that’d break him.
No you couldn’t reject him! he was the best suitor for you …. right??. the servants set up the lemonades and teas in a aesthetically pleasing way, one last time
he planned on marrying you and starting a family with you right away and having three kids-no five, he wanted a big family so he’d never be lonely and so his kids wouldn’t be either. he straightened up and prepared for a day filled with your laughter.
once he heard his door staff announce you he smiled eagerly waiting for his eyes to meet yours.
garden 🌺
you entered the garden area it was decorated with flowers and the table had all of your favorite foods, your mother gave you a nudge and you bowed to tewksbury and his mother, he looked at you like you were the only women left on earth- in the universe.
he welcomed you with a smile and insisted on pulling your chair and he did so you thanked him and flashed your beautiful smile. after a while and a couple dishes later your mamas were talking about the newest gossip but you weren’t paying the slightest attention.
tewksbury was telling you of his adventures and travels with enola you couldn’t help but feel jealous that enola could travel alone with a man unchaperoned.
tewksbury then asked you if you’d like to sneak off in the gardens since your mamas seemed distracted on the other side of the table playing a type of card game. “Alone? but what if?-“ he just winked at you and took your hand you decided to just follow him.
*
“these are orchids they reminds me of you, you look quite beautiful in purple” he kissed your hand softly your cheeks felt hot and your heart was beating fast like a drum. “Thank you my lord” you smiled clearly flustered at his compliment.
“tell me miss l/n what do you want in a husband?” he asked grinning, the two of you continue to walk along a path leading to a bench and a tea table.
“he’d have to be kind and have charming looks and a soft spot for children, he’d also have to love me for something other than my f- he’d just have to love me i suppose” you smiled softly looking at the ground you didn’t want to say that much but it just cams out.
“lady y/n i would like to offer my heart to you” he genuinely smiles and takes your hand close to his heart. “my heart beats for you and you alone ”.
“my lord- you are most kind and i wish to accept your heart because i can see by the look of your garden and by how highly my mama speaks of you that you’d treat me fairly” you bowed
“we should get back before they notice ”
•
after a week of spending time with the viscount you fell hard for him, you dreamed about him when you slept. your mama knew that any day now tewksbury would propose- you counted on it.
you and your mama were meeting with him and his mama for dinner at their home, you put on a light blue dress because he said he wanted you to wear more blue, your hair was straightened and curled and tied with a white bow.
your ladies maid told you that tonight he’d propose she was sure of it she said. that made you nervous your stomach filled with butterflies, you heard your mama call you so your ladies maids finished up and you headed down stairs to the living room.
“You look splendid dearest, surely the boy will propose- but if he doesn’t the duke of hastings would like to marry you.” she smiled as she layed eyes on you… her beautiful daughter
“The duke is handsome but i want viscount tewksbury” you sighed. “yes i know honey.”
your staff escorted you to the carriage and helped you and your mama get in, the carriage ride to bashilwether hall wasn’t long but you burned with anticipation- was he going to propose? or was he just wasting your time?. at least your mama had a back up plan, the duke of hastings , he wasn’t to old.
he was only three and thirty and still very handsome but most importantly he had rank and wealth which at the end of the day was all your mother cared about. she wanted you to find a husband who’d take care of you and to spoil u , like your father did her.
~
he placed his mothers ring in a small black box and held in his grin- he was going to propose today and he was ever so excited. his butler had entered his study “sir ms holmes is here to see you” his face went white. “send her in quickly make sure no one sees” . his heart paced so fast, he wanted her gone
Enola entered the study with a big smile on her face “hello tewksbury of bothersome shire” she teased. he stood up and bowed to her “uh what’s wrong, no embrace or a i missed you enola” she looked confused.
“sorry im just nervous, tonight’s my engagement dinner, to lady-“ she cut him off “wait what” her face dropped. “im to be married if everything goes well uh we shall be married in a fortnight” (fourteen days)
“Oh well um congratulations in advance who’s the lucky lady , do i know her” she smiled but tewksbury could tell it wasn’t genuine. “i shan’t think so, lady y/n l/n” he smiled while shoving some papers in a cabinet trying to distract himself. “Oh well then i will make my leave” she holds back tears “good day”
he grinned politely “good day enola holmes” and just like that she left him as she always did. A big sigh of relief left his lips. enola couldn’t offer him what he wanted but y/n could , she wanted a family and she was the poster child of class and Grace.
•
the dinner was going well when suddenly tewksbury stood up and held his glass high up “I shall make a toast to lady y/n, she is everything good in this miserable world. I only hope she feels for me as I do her.” your mama nudged you and you felt your cheeks heat up. he then sat his cup down and walked up to your chair and got down on his knees “lady y/n will u do me the honor of becoming my wife?” your moms eyes glowed with pride. you felt like crying and or jumping up and down “Yes of course I will.!” he put the ring on you and kissed you.
the dowager clapped and grabbed your mamas hands , they both giggled and laughed like little girls. you loved tewksbury, he was kind and handsome. you will live a comfortable life with him.
TO BE CONTINUED……,
maybe
Day 2: Kate and Edwina (Sisterhood)
Kate sighed quietly as she slipped into the room in the boarding house she shared with her sister, Edwina. It has been a particularly long day spent in her apprenticeship, trying to work out the stitching for the bonnet she was meant to finish this week. It was murder on her hands but the pay was good and they needed the funds if they were going to survive in London.
London. Kate closed her eyes for a moment. They should have never come here-- should have never had to come here. But Somerset was a small village with no theaters and Edwina….
Edwina had real talent. Not even sixteen and she was already appearing in Romeo and Juliet. As a background actress, admittedly, but it was still impressive. Her natural beauty shone on stage and Kate was certain it was only a matter of time before she won a lead role.
Of course that was the problem-- time. Kate and Edwina had lost both their father, who had already been sick for several years, and Mary much more suddenly to a terrible flu one year earlier. Kate was barely eighteen then and it had been a terrible shock. Lord Sheffield, their father's older brother and the only living relation who acknowledged them, was too deep in debt to take them in.
They visited their uncle for a spell as they sold what little they could for capital and then made their way to London in search of reliable employment. Thankfully, their father's former steward was able to help Kate find an apprenticeship at a family run milliner's shop. It was not easy and she was the first to admit she didn't take to it naturally, but she worked hard and that was enough to keep her employed. For now.
Day 6: Kate and Anthony (Menace)
After returning Edwina to her chaperoning mother, Anthony was quickly waved over to the refreshments by his younger brother Colin. Standing beside him was a tall dark haired woman Anthony had not met before.
"Brother!" Colin grinned widely-- generally a bad sign for Anthony. "Miss Sheffield and I were just speaking of you."
"Miss… Sheffield," he repeated slowly.
"Edwina is my younger sister," she said stiffly.
Though she stood a head taller and had more angular features, he could see a familial resemblance around the eyes and nose area. "Ah, yes. The gatekeeper."
This was quite obviously the wrong thing to say. Miss Sheffield's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Excuse me?"
Never one to retreat, Anthony instead doubled down. "Your sister did say she would not marry without your approval, did she not?"
Miss Sheffield raised her brows. "So in this scenario, the gate I am keeping is for becoming betrothed to Edwina?"
"I suppose, yes," Anthony agreed with all the arrogance of a (future) member of the peerage.
"Hmmmph." Somehow Miss Sheffield managed to imbue quite a lot of disapproval into the sound. (It reminded him a bit too much of Lady Danbury, an elderly matron known for speaking her mind freely, wielding a cane with deadly accuracy and whom most of the ton had a very healthy fear of.)
"Brother," Colin spoke up, reminding Anthony he was still standing there, "I have promised Miss Sheffield the next dance. Unfortunately I have just now realized I also promised the dance to Miss Featherington."
Anthony was not feeling particularly charitable at that moment and smiled insincerely in response. "Shall I find Penelope to act as substitute?"
"Nonsense!" Colin waved the suggestion away. "Miss Sheffield is here-- take her to the floor and I shall handle Miss Featherington."
"I am certain the future Viscount is quite in demand," Miss Sheffield sniffed, injecting a remarkable amount of disdain into what should have been a complementary sentiment. "I release you of your obligation."
"No, that will not do!" Colin's charm was out in full force. "I would feel simply terrible if you were forced to sit out because of my inexcusable error."
"Really, I--"
That was enough for Anthony. He actually was quite in demand but being refused by this impertinent chit was raising his hackles. "Come Miss Sheffield," he interrupted, taking her arm none too gently and steering her toward the floor.
When they reached their spot, he turned to face her. Miss Sheffield smirked up at him. "You are going to regret this decision."
"Oh?" Anthony raised his brows. "I am not known for having many regrets."
"Yes, well," she looked away and he might've thought her bashful if she were not standing quite so straight, "I hope you wore thick boots."
Anthony waited until she met his gaze again to respond. "You would not dare."
She smiled a bit ruefully. "Honestly, I could not prevent it if I tried. I am a notoriously terrible dancer."
That startled a laugh from him. "Well then I shall hope my boots are sturdy enough indeed."
As it happened they were not. Oh, they handled Miss Sheffield's missteps well enough but when she stomped on his foot at the close of the dance it was all he could do not to swear aloud. He had, admittedly, baited her but such a juvenile response was shocking.
Anthony did not escort her from the dancefloor. In truth she swept off before he could offer-- not that he would have after such a display but it still irked him. Instead he limped to where his parents were standing, both looking perplexed, as Colin practically cried with laughter.
"Did you even dance with Penelope?" Anthony demanded in lieu of a greeting.
Colin couldn't seem to catch his breath, he was wheezing as he nodded.
Violet tutted at the younger brother, while Edmund pulled Anthony toward him. "Is everything all right, son?"
"Fine," he all but growled. Catching his father's startled expression (Anthony rarely had such fits of pique in his presence), he forced himself to take a deep breath. "Fine," he repeated in a calmer tone. He caught sight of Miss Sheffield and felt his neck heat in anger again. "But that woman is a menace."
Edmund spluttered, clearly trying to suppress a laugh of his own. Anthony gave it up as a bad job and excused himself to head to his club. He had had quite enough of the ton for one night.