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atinyjules · 3 days

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Where The Magnolia Blossoms Ft. Park Jisung {ch-1}

A/n: I disappeared for a while ig...but it was because I had to go help my dad in clearing our ancestral home. So while I was there, I saw a little Magnolia tree with blooming flowers and got inspired to write a historical au with Jisung as my lead, of course!

!!Mind you, this is all fiction. And it is not related to any history. None of the festivals or the things that take place in this story are real, and it is all purely fiction.!!

So here it iss

The Title of the story has been changed, and the name of the kingdom has been changed to Baeguk.

The mini - masterlist for this series can be found here

Genre: Historical au, romance, angst, fluff, forbidden love au, royal au

Pairings: Crown Prince!Park Jisung x fem oc

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, war, strong language , kinda angsty..

In the break of spring, when all the flowers began blooming and the birds began singing , a young prince sat and admired nature's beauty from his secret garden. His heartbeat was calm, and a soft smile graced his otherwise cold and rigid features. Away from all the pressures of the throne, Prince Jisung was at peace in his little hideout. When he was in the garden, he felt more like himself than he ever did in the big palace he was forced to call home.

The pressure and expectations of the throne suffocated him and made him feel sick. Like he was an animal who was forced to be a human. But at least the throne won't bother him for now. He's the youngest, after all, and the title of the Crown Prince belonged to his elder brother, not him, so for the time being, he could fly freely.

That's what he thought, until the day his life changed. The Crown Prince was murdered without a trace of his killer, and just like that, Prince Jisung slept a young prince and woke up the Crown Prince. Due to the sudden murder, the Crown Prince Jisung's life was way more restricted than his late brother, and all forms of freedom were thrown down the cliff. He was restricted from leaving the palace, restricted from meeting his subjects, restricted from visiting his secret garden, and most of all, the Crown Prince was restricted from behaving like himself.

He lost himself and became a puppet, a puppet who had to do whatever his father wanted him to do. Never could the Crown Prince Jisung be just Jisung, it was simply a wrong answer in everyone's eyes. If he could make a wish right now, he'd wish to be a nobody, and if his wish couldn't come true, he'd rather be dead instead.

I am a child cursed by the heavens.

"Your Highness, the King wishes to see you." One of the King's servants said to Jisung, who was brought out of his thoughts. Dismissing the servant, he couldn't help but stare at the calligraphy he just wrote one last time before folding it into a bird and discarding it outside to fly away from his sight.

A child cursed by the heavens can only wish for an early death.

❀❀❀

Jisung's

"Your brother's tomb has been mounted, so now your actual duties will begin. I know how you are, toughen up because, if you're weak, the kingdom will fall. I will kill you myself if you fail to go ahead with your duties as you should." Father said with a cold and chilling tone, making me nod timidly.

"Yes, father." I replied in a soft tone.

"Being too good is not good. The people will take advantage of a merciful ruler, but they will follow the orders of a merciless one. If you remain timid forever, everyone will take advantage of you and your powers. A timid and merciless ruler will fall, but a ruthless and tyrannical ruler will never stop rising." Father said and looked at me before scoffing.

"You're nothing like your brother at all. You're too soft, too timid... to weak. It's a shame that your brother was met with such an early end. He would've been the perfect ruler, but of course... the weakest one had to be left behind." He said, making me clench my fist tightly as I faced the floor.

"You better improve fast, or else I'll send you to Jihyuk." I felt my heart pause for a second at the mention of my brother's name.

"You're dismissed... get out of my sight." He said, making me stand up and bow to him before leaving for my quarter.

Seonhwa's

"You and your obsession with magnolias, why don't you ever make anything else?" One of the elder girls asked, making me perk up.

"It's pretty... besides, it's the kingdom's symbol." I said in a soft tone before getting smacked in the head by her.

"That's boring." She said and left with the newly made robes.

"Crazy wench..." I trailed before going back to doing my embroidery when an origami bird landed on my table.

"What's this?" I mumbled before picking it up and unfolding it.

"A child cursed by the heavens can only wish for an early death...this is so dark. I wonder who wrote it..." I asked myself before quickly hiding it under my skirt when I heard mom's voice.

"Seonhwa? There you are, what are you doing?! We need to quickly get the robes to the Crown Prince!" Mom exclaimed.

"Okay, okay... I'm coming." I said, making her sigh.

"Quick, quick! Or else our heads will end up on the king's table." Mom said in a rushed tone.

Right...the king.

After mom left the room, I got up and hid the calligraphy inside the cupboard before rushing out to help mom.

We had arrived in the main palace and waited for the Crown Prince's arrival after setting up everything. I was currently straightening out the Crown Prince's clothes when I heard footsteps.

"Make way for the Crown Prince." A loud booming voice proclaimed, making everyone panic and quickly get down on their knees to give respect to the Crown Prince. The door was slid open to reveal the Crown Prince in all his light. With a cold and stone like face, the Crown Prince entered the room and sat down in the middle of the room.

"Rise." The Crown Prince said in a low but commanding tone, making all of us rise from our position.

"Your Highness, with the Lantern festival approaching, his Highness, the King had asked us to prepare a robe for you to wear to the festival." Mom spoke in a clear and calm tone before revealing the robe to the Crown Prince.

"I want to see it up close, if that's okay." He requested making mom smile.

"Of course, your Highness." Mom said as me and another seamstress carefully brought it to the Crown Prince who took it and traced his hand over the embroidery.

"The embroidering here is beautiful. Who did it?" He said in a soft voice before looking at mom.

"My daughter Seonhwa did all the embroidery. " she said and bowed before motioning towards me, taking me by surprise as the Crown Prince looked up towards me.

"Seonhwa?" He said my name, making me bow to him.

"I am Seonhwa, your Highness." I said after bowing only to see the Crown Prince looking at me in shock.

"Is there a problem, your Highness?" The Crown Prince's royal guard asked in worry.

"I...no...it's...your very skilled. It's my pleasure to wear such a beautiful robe." He said making my eyes widen.

"T-Thank you, Your Highness!" I said a little too aggressively before kneeling on the ground and bowing, making mom face palm.

Jisung's

"She's definitely her... I know it." I mumbled to myself as I stayed awake in the middle of the night instead of sleeping.

I didn't think about her much, but now that I met her again... why is she all I'm thinking about? She made my heart skip a beat then and still made my heart skip today when we met. Why? Was it because we were older and more mature than we were in the past, or was it simply because I still thought about her all these years?

I got up and took out a box from the cabinet.

"Where did it go?" I rummaged through the box to find what I was looking for, a neatly folded piece of paper. I opened it and smiled as I began reading the contents.

You keep asking me why everyone calls me seonahwa right? So I'll tell you today! My real name is Seo Seonhwa, that's my name. It's a play on the word "Suseonhwa" (daffodil). Mom loves daffodils, so when I was born, she named me Seo Seonhwa because I was her precious little flower.

But some of the girls here call me Seonahwa instead. It's a pun if you didn't understand. They call me that cause I'm timid and cowardly.

When will you tell me your name? I can't keep calling you Park Salgu (apricot)can I?

After folding the paper and keeping it in the box, a transparent material caught my attention. I pulled it out to see the handkerchief with the embroidered magnolia Seonhwa made me when we were kids.

I silently sighed and brought the handkerchief close to my heart.

Park Salgu... don't you dare forget me... ever!

Park Salgu never did!

That's it for this chapter 💖✨️

I hope you guys enjoyed it! Yesterday was my Jeno's birthday but I couldn't post what I planned to. I completed 2 new chapters for his Broken Melodies series but because of the bad internet it didn't save and I lost everything 😭

And by that time I lost interest to rewrite it again 🤧 so I posted this new jisung fic instead.I had been working on this for a month before finally deciding to put it out for you guys so I hope you'll like it! Especially the Jisung simps🥹💖✨️

Chapter 2 can be found here

Likes and rebloggs are appreciated 💖 ✨️

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atinytokki · 4 months

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Mechanosis

Chapter 1: 구름 (cloud)

구름

cloud

The future looked different through a cracked glass pane. Only two people in the entirety of Gyeongseong Station knew there was a crack on the inside pane of the seven metre clock face that adorned the iconic tower, and Hongjoong was one of them.

He spent most nights alone with a view of the city far below, twinkling lights almost seeming magical through the blanket of haze that coated everything east of Incheon. And most nights, he knew better than to dream.

The past, too, had a strange new colour streaked across it, and the filter of glass clock face windows, like thin hanji mulberry paper, revealed things Hongjoong hadn’t seen five years ago. Things he couldn’t have known.

Accompanied by the constant whirring and clicking of gears, he watched rain trail down the glass with his single working eye, following a drop and tracing it with his finger until it slid off the clock face and out of view.

He had put his tinkering away an hour ago, but too many things were keeping him awake. The constant thoughts, plans, and anxiety. The rain. San’s coughing.

The pair of them worked sunrise to sunset in the Namsan metal factory every day, retreating for the night to their secret hideaway in the clock tower, and these late hours were the only moments he could steal for himself.

If Hongjoong turned to look out the eastern facing windows in the tower, he’d see the factory there; carved into the side of the mountain and constantly belching a steady stream of smoke into the surrounding forest.

It was good money— as good as pay could be these days— but it was also the culprit of San’s cough. Both of them knew it.

For now, it was mercifully raining. In a matter of weeks, it would be snowing. And when the snows came, their days would be difficult again. San always grew sicker when winter arrived.

Five years ago, Hongjoong would’ve looked forward to the snow, and the way it gathered on bare tree branches outside in his courtyard in perfect little snow walls that stood upright until he ran a mittened hand across their surface and knocked them down. Now, the snow should be a gift— freedom from the curse of ash that had befallen Hanseong— but all it did was signal the upcoming darkness and the increased chance of death.

He closed his eyes, the burned right one with more difficulty, and inhaled deeply before his thoughts could spiral, pulling his legs close to his chest. The bottom edges of each pant leg of his baji were fraying, so he picked at them mindlessly and waited for exhaustion to set in.

A mumble sounded from the direction of the sleeping mats, set in the middle of the uppermost terrace with the best view below to catch any intruder who should attempt to sneak up the stairs.

San’s sleep-talking no doubt.

“Come to bed.”

Hongjoong turned his head to the left to see him. So, the younger man was coherent after all.

He was sitting up with the blanket draped over him, hair ruffled from tossing and turning.

Hongjoong hesitated and it brought a childish pout to San’s face.

“Please? I want to snuggle.”

Watching him bat his eyelashes, Hongjoong would never have guessed San had spent nearly all of his nineteen years growing up on the streets, wondering where the next meal would come from and inventing creative ways to get by on his own.

Even around a complete stranger, his softness and innocence had always remained.

Hongjoong remembered the day he met him, on a rainy night at Mount Inwang when he opened his single eye to see the ceiling of a shrine room.

A shaman had appeared above him weeks before and softly explained that he was the sole survivor of the fire, that he had been brought to the temple in secret to hide from the new authorities, that his eye was bandaged but would likely not heal, and that he was free to go where he pleased or remain in Suseongdong Valley if he wished.

The news had been beyond devastating. His entire life had burned down around him and he had no desire to go on. He had lost everything.

The shaman’s kindness never wavered, even when he would not rise from his mat on the floor to thank her. Others came and went, their shadows moving across the floor, turning like the sun through each long and lonely day. Sometimes the surrounding sleeping mats filled with other patients, more and more growing sickly as the chill of winter moved through the mountain peaks.

“I’ve brought you supper,” a voice broke into his spiralling thoughts that evening at the moment when the smell of samgyetang reached him. “You have a neighbour for tonight, his name is San.” It was one of the monks informing Hongjoong, as if he would care, and though he didn’t turn his head to see, the noise of a boy being guided to the mat next to his went on for a few minutes after.

Some time went by in silence. How much time, Hongjoong didn’t know, but night had fallen at least an hour ago and after dozing, he was hungry, despite himself.

Turning his head all the way to the right so he could see through his left eye, he was met with the shocked face of his neighbour, cheeks full of Hongjoong’s food.

“O-Oh!” The boy choked out, hurriedly swallowing and placing the bowl back on the floor. “I didn’t realise you were awake. Your eye bandage…”

When Hongjoong didn’t reply, the boy— San— shamelessly picked up the food again before hesitating.

“You weren’t planning on eating this, right?”

Taken aback, Hongjoong blinked a few times before shaking his head in agreement. It didn’t matter if his stomach was grumbling now, he had lost his chance.

“It’s good!” The boy exclaimed through another bite as he spooned the last vegetables into his mouth, much louder than he should be considering the late hour and the other sleeping patients. “Even though it’s cold.”

With that, he flashed a dimpled smile, downed the last of the broth and set the bowl back on the floor before standing from his bed and heading for the exit.

“Wh—” Hoarse from disuse, Hongjoong’s voice didn’t reach the patient, so he sat up and called more loudly, head spinning from the sudden adjustment, and tried to recall the name, “San? San!”

The mountain, who he met in the valley.

Surprised, the boy turned, bright eyes landing on Hongjoong’s form, and cocked his head to the side like a cat. “That’s me. What is it?”

“You…” Hongjoong sighed and cleared his throat, and San moved closer to hear what he had to say. “You’re leaving already? Are you even sick or did just you come for the food?”

At this observation, San smirked and gave a half shrug before continuing on his way.

Hongjoong didn’t see him again until two days later.

Again, the boy was given the sleeping mat next to his, and again he waited until Hongjoong drifted to sleep to eat both his own meal and the food designated for Hongjoong as if it belonged to him.

“Come on, you should eat some of this,” San tutted at him, the sound of him clicking his tongue just barely audible over the wind that whipped through Suseongdong. It was the seventh night now that he had appeared and helped himself to the shamans’ cooking, occasionally starting conversations that rarely went anywhere, as if determined to heal Hongjoong with his words even while he took his food every evening. “Look at you, you’re wasting away. Why do you refuse to eat? Do you think it will bring back whatever it is you lost?”

Biting his lip anxiously, Hongjoong merely shook his head.

He was still in mourning. And he had no appetite.

A growling stomach gave him away and, frustrated, he couldn’t stop a tear from escaping.

San noticed and placed down the bowl, regarding him seriously with no trace of his usual teasing.

“Would you like a hug?”

Sighing through his nose and squeezing his eye shut, Hongjoong tried to say no, but San was too fast and it only took a moment for him to be encased in his arms, squeezed gently but reassuringly, and then released again so the other boy could finish his kimchi.

It felt… nice.

And it was the sign he needed that life would go on, whether he wanted it to at the moment or not.

The season continued on, with snows blowing in from the west, and the mysterious boy continued his occasional visits.

Hongjoong always let him eat the second bowl or dip into to his banchan, because he knew San’s hunger must be severe for him to take food from another. He needed it more than Hongjoong did, when he could survive off of luncheon and this single meal was likely the only one of the day— or week— for San.

And, as expected, San always cleaned the plate.

The day he didn’t, Hongjoong knew something was wrong.

“You’re sick this time, aren’t you?” He whispered.

He didn’t lay on his back anymore, facing the patterned ceiling and letting tears wind down the sides of his cheeks. Instead, he faced San’s bed, watching him closely with his left eye.

San frowned from where he sat by Hongjoong’s mat, cross-legged.

“I do get sick, but this—”

Interrupted by his own cough, the harsh fit went on for a moment before he nodded, fully laying on his mat this time, turned in Hongjoong’s direction.

“This is worse than usual. I think it’s that factory they’re building next to my hideout.”

“Wh-What?” Hongjoong was surprised to hear those words. A factory so close to the city was strange, when most large mills were located in the countryside.

Unless…

“It’s this new steam-powered factory,” San explained slowly in his rasp, as if it was obvious and Hongjoong should’ve known despite not leaving the shrine in weeks. “They’re popping up all over Hanseong, burning ore to heat water and run the steam through this… machinery. That’s what they call it.”

Hongjoong’s head was reeling. It was as if the world had changed overnight. In a matter of weeks, things he had only seen on paper by candlelight existed. And they were multiplying.

“How?”

“A Mr. Shin is responsible, Minister of Technological Advancement he calls himself,” San sniffed in derision, not appearing to like the man, or at least what he knew of him. “The very night he was appointed, he had the plans set in motion, workers conscripted, and new authorities established. It’s all his design.”

“No, it isn’t.”

The words escaped Hongjoong so quickly, even he was surprised.

But it was true.

He had been there when the concept of steam-powered machinery was dreamt up in a crowded kitchen while the smoke trailed up to the sky on a starry summer’s night years ago. He knew whose design it was first scribbled on corners of worn parchment, ink staining the clothes and hands of the one who made it.

San was staring at him like he’d grown a second head, and patiently waiting for the right moment to ask a question he must have been meaning to ask for a long time.

“What’s your name?”

“Huh?”

“Your name,” San whispered urgently. “What is it? Who are you?”

He seemed sincere, and the cavernous pit of loneliness inside made Hongjoong yearn for companionship, but his name was all he had left now.

Could he really give it up so easily?

“I—” Hongjoong’s mouth ran dry. He simply needed to know San’s intentions first.

“I’ve decided I like you,” San supplied soon enough. “You’re kindhearted, and I want to keep you.”

Hongjoong furrowed his brows. “But I haven’t done anything.”

“Exactly,” San smiled sweetly but with some sadness under those innocent dimples. “You let me take without question. Most others would’ve accused me of stealing.”

So San had interpreted his indifference as kindness.

“You don’t want me,” Hongjoong shook his head, trying his best to sound sure of himself. “I have nothing else to give you.”

He knew he was about to give up the last thing he did have, he could feel himself losing the inner battle.

“I just want your name for now,” San assured him softly. “And then let me give you something for a change.”

He said it was just a name, but the truth was that it was so much more. What he had experienced and what San was experiencing were both tied up in that identity and to give it away would not help San. In fact, it may condemn him.

Eyes watering embarrassingly, the half-blinded boy squirmed in place before giving up.

“I’m Kim Hongjoong. I’m fifteen years old. I’m here because the Ministry of Technological Advancement set a fire two months ago that killed my parents and burned my eye. I know it was them because it was my family who created those designs— the ones for the machines— and now that the Ministry murdered the creators and stole the research, they perverted it. In a way, due to my inability to stop them, I am the one responsible for your sickness, San.” He paused to let the truth sink in.

Hongjoong could scarcely believe it himself, but this was the new world he’d woken up to.

“Are you sure you still want me?”

___

San had not hesitated even a moment, and from that day on, the two were brothers.

A tower was under construction at Gyeongseong Station, and quickly adorned with a massive clock face, run on the interlocking mechanism conceptualised by Hongjoong’s own mother and based on the tiny test models Hongjoong’s father had constructed himself.

It was San’s hiding place when he didn’t trek up the mountain to receive medicine at the shrine. He had always been a poor orphan for as long as he could remember, but the cost of living was unbearable now, and so he taught himself how to escape the notice of the station guards, and then taught Hongjoong in turn.

They lived there together now, five years later, and worked at the nearby factory begrudgingly, knowing there were very few options to get by, no matter how much former education Hongjoong had. Machinery was the way of the world now, and if they didn’t offer themselves up to be cogs in the machine, they’d end up playing that role one way or another.

Hongjoong had his habits, San admitted, such as getting in trouble at the factory for working too slowly and staying up late at night to tinker with the strange metal pieces he sourced from who knows where, but he was already dear to San. San’s heart had made the decision for him.

And he was never more sure of his decision than during times like these, when he lay coughing until blood came up in crimson specks on his handkerchief, and the pain in his chest kept him from sleeping.

Hongjoong acquiesced to San’s pleas for cuddles, and pulled the younger boy close with the hopes of lulling him to sleep. Instead, both lay awake for a while longer, unable to escape from the crossroads they knew they were approaching the sicker San became.

“The factory hurts you,” Hongjoong sighed into San’s hair.

San didn’t answer. Tears pricked at his eyes, watering from the force of his cough and partially from the frustration.

“I don’t want you to work there anymore,” Hongjoong told him softly. He’d said as much many times before, but both of them knew there was no turning away from the factory. Not in these times.

Again, San remained silent, shaking his head resolutely but remaining securely tucked in between Hongjoong’s arms.

“Please, San,” Hongjoong whined. San had never heard him beg like this before. “You’re scaring me.”

“Hyung, you—” a coughing fit interrupted him, and the force of his cough jolted them both. Hongjoong clung on anyway. “You know I can’t quit. It’s good money.”

“But you can find somewhere better to work,” Hongjoong insisted immediately, voice dripping with desperation. No matter how many times he thought it through, the situation was unbearable. “And if the money’s so good, I can pick up extra shifts instead since I won’t be busy nursing you back to health every winter.”

But it ended the way it always did. Ultimately, San persevered as he always had.

“No.” It came out harsher than he intended it to. “I’m going and there’s nothing you can say that will change my mind.”

Hongjoong went quiet for just long enough that San could tell he was angry.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, rubbing Hongjoong’s arm appreciatively. “Please, hyung, I really am. I love you.”

“Don’t say that.”

Hongjoong’s voice was softly admonishing.

A pout found San’s face again. “Why not?”

He used the words all the time, relishing in the opportunity to direct them at someone after all those years alone.

The silence stretched on between them and San tilted his head up to see tears in his hyung’s eye.

“You love too easily,” he finally answered, so quietly that San almost missed it.

He bristled at the accusation, regardless of how gently it had been delivered.

“But I mean it, Hongjoong,” San insisted, shifting to encourage the older boy to look at him. He spoke with as much conviction as he could despite the stabs of pain in his throat with every word he said. “I love you and I’m not leaving you. So you can’t leave me either.”

Hongjoong didn’t respond, but San knew he had heard him from the way he squeezed his eye shut. The right one was still covered in bandages. Whether he ever took them off to inspect the burned eye or not, San didn’t know.

San had seen from the beginning that Hongjoong didn’t think himself worthy of a second chance at family.

But family was the one thing San never had yet truly wanted. He needed to do everything in his power to secure a family for himself, one he truly loved regardless of their flaws.

“Did someone leave you behind?” He found himself conjecturing aloud. “Is that why…”

San’s words trailed off but his question hung in the air.

Hongjoong knew what he meant to ask.

Is that why you’re like this?

Another silence settled over them, not uncomfortable this time. San had tried and failed to wheedle the details out many times, but he understood the defences Hongjoong kept around his story.

He had the same walls around his own, no matter how talkative he could be about other things.

Finally, Hongjoong opened his mouth, closed it again, and then acquiesced and released a small key to the past.

“I had a brother.”

San stared at him for a moment, directly into his eye, before asking for clarification.

“Had?”

“He got out before the fire.”

San could feel Hongjoong’s shrug as it shifted their position on the floor mat. “I think my parents knew what was coming— there were whispers. They gave him the key to some of their designs and got him out of the country. I never saw him again. And it was all for naught, because the Ministry of Technological Advancement got hold of the plans anyway.”

Stunned, San worked through the information inside his own head for a moment.

“You think he’s alive?”

“I don’t know,” Hongjoong whispered. “I hope so… but he’s never returned for me. Perhaps he thinks I died in the fire, too.”

Suddenly it all made sense to San and he needed to gulp back tears at the memory it sparked inside him. He understood the fear of abandonment. He knew abandonment all too well.

“Leaving me before I leave you won’t make things any better,” San reminded him fiercely. They both knew that whether he said so or not, Hongjoong had grown attached.

That was what San was counting on.

“And besides, I’m not leaving you anyway.”

___

The wind that rustled bamboo leaves was colder than it had been last week.

Seonghwa could see the stalks swaying in the breeze from his table, and hurried to close the window and warm himself with some soybean jochi stew.

Most days, he got what he came to Ahopsan forest for; peace, quiet, and stillness.

But today the wind blew his wooden shutters open again and again, until he fetched his dopo and went outside to reinforce the latch.

The shadows on the surrounding forest floor came and went with the flickering light as it filtered through the canopy. Two layers of clouds blew quickly overhead, large puffy cumulus clouds with dark grey undersides, indicating a growing storm, and the wispy remnants of smog from Busan’s factories encroaching on his territory.

Its shape was always changing, morphing with every twist and turn as it was pushed onwards, pushed like the rest of Joseon when progress drove people away from their lives.

People like Seonghwa.

He had run as far as he was able, and still the smoke of the city chased him and interrupted his peace.

It wouldn’t be long before he needed to flee yet again.

Washing the dishes with a close watch on the sky, Seonghwa almost didn’t notice the footsteps leading up to his door.

Jolted from his reverie, he instinctively grabbed the crossbow by the entryway before bracing himself against the door, peeking through a gap in the paper cover to see who was calling in such a remote place at an hour like this.

“Hyung, it’s me,” Yeosang’s voice resonated deeply but with a light tone to it, and Seonghwa released his weapon and opened the door, shoulders still tense.

The two need not exchange words, and together they ventured into the main room and settled on the floor. Seonghwa poured his guest some tea and merely stared at his own, too anxious about the report he was waiting for to actually drink any.

“Will he get us out?”

Finally he couldn’t keep his anticipation inside anymore.

Yeosang snorted into his tea before composing himself and lowering the cup. “Seonghwa, I haven’t even spoken to him yet.”

“Right, right,” Seonghwa trailed off, wiping sweaty hands on his baji. “But you observed him these past few days?”

Yeosang rooted around in his bag for a moment before procuring a paper. “I drew this sketch when he visited the apothecary shop earlier in the week.”

Seonghwa took it promptly with both hands and gave the drawing a careful once over.

Jeong Yunho.

His cheekbones and nose were wide and striking, his mouth naturally rested in a smile, and his eyes were kind even if his face seemed tense. The clothes Yeosang had drawn him in were undoubtedly that of the yangban.

He was the son of Joseon’s foremost steam engine railway entrepreneur, and just so happened to do detective work.

Ever since he and Seonghwa had left their posts with the government, it was Yeosang’s job while he worked undercover in Hanseong to connect powerful people like Yunho to causes that weren’t exactly supported by the Ministry of Technological Advancement.

Seonghwa’s escape from Joseon was one of them.

The Jeong family were known supporters of the Ministry’s new order, but Yeosang was confident this Yunho would willingly help them if approached anyway.

“And there’s something else important,” Yeosang pulled his attention away from the illustration and related his latest report. “He came in again yesterday and brought another man with him. I recognised him from the festivals I’ve been tailing Yunho at. He’s one of the Jeong family servants— or, he was. He walks with Yunho-ssi now… as an equal.”

Seonghwa sat back slowly, deep in thought.

This was unprecedented.

That a rich nobleman would allow his servant the dress and status of a fellow noble wasn’t only unheard of, it was laughable. It was fantasy.

But if this Yunho diverged so sharply from his family’s views on servitude, there was a high chance he diverged from their views on the Ministry as well.

And that was the kind of person Seonghwa needed.

“How soon can you approach him?”

Yeosang went for another sip of tea while he thought things through.

“It wouldn’t be wise to arrange a meeting. He’s watched very closely by his father and the Ministry. Those moments in the apothecary shop are the only ones I have.”

“You must speak with him, Yeosang. If the smog has reached the forest, the machines won’t be far behind. We have to get out before they hunt us down.”

He knew he sounded desperate, but Seonghwa couldn’t help himself. If he relaxed, even for a moment, he could find himself trapped under the Ministry’s again, run over by the very steam-powered train engines he had planned and met with manufacturers for.

Biting his lip and avoiding Seonghwa’s eyes, Yeosang carefully voiced his reservations.

“Hyung, I don’t know.”

Seonghwa couldn’t help but frown. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

This was a matter of life and death, after all.

“I don’t think I should come with you,” Yeosang sighed, tension in his forehead and worry in his eyes. “There’s still work to be done here, others to help escape.”

The regret in his voice tugged at Seonghwa’s heartstrings.

He wasn’t attached, he told himself. No, he wasn’t bound to Yeosang despite fleeing the Ministry together and he wasn’t lonely in his tiny cabin while he waited for a boat ride away from this country.

But no matter how much he repeated it to himself, he knew in his heart that he couldn’t leave if Yeosang was staying.

“Oh.”

Suddenly his mouth was dry.

“Well, what do you think you’ll do here?”

An easy smile grew on Yeosang’s face, and Seonghwa found himself releasing his breath at the sight of it.

“I already see what’s happening throughout Hanseong from the apothecary shop,” he pointed out, chattering away like he only did when it was a subject he cared about immensely. “And it would be an excellent outpost to hide and then transport others who may be hunted by the new authorities for labor violations or association with the underground.”

“You’re saying… you want to become part of the underground yourself?” Seonghwa followed the logic to its natural conclusion.

Ever since the Ministry of Technological Advancement had absorbed the other main offices at the palace and instituted strict rules and insufferable working conditions, an underground network of rebellious citizens had quietly begun to form.

Seonghwa had heard whispers of them once or twice, but as far as he knew had never been involved with them.

They were a shadowy group with eyes everywhere, so it was difficult to know whether he’d encountered their members or not.

“Well,” Yeosang scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I don’t intend to join a revolution, but times are hard. So many people are barred from escaping. If I can make a difference in saving lives and making one less machine operate, I’ll gladly do so.”

Seonghwa found his eyes to be welling up and glanced away.

It wasn’t that he was sad to be sent away alone. It wasn’t even that he might be separating from a colleague he’d known since their university days. It was his pride in Yeosang, that he’d found a perfect way to serve a cause that was important to him, honestly to them both.

“Are you alright, hyung?” Yeosang sounded surprised, so Seonghwa wiped his eyes quickly and shot him a reassuring smile.

“Just happy for you,” the older admitted, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “You should consider joining me one day when it’s your turn to escape the Ministry. Any suspicious activity will put a sure target on your back, and you don’t want to end up in a factory.”

Seonghwa didn’t mean it lightly.

For years he had studied obliviously, thrilled to be a part of the technology team helping to bring Joseon to the future with better, more efficient steam-powered devices.

Until one day when he had witnessed the horror of the factories himself, had seen what his creations, untethered, could do to people.

Seonghwa bit back the memory and tasted blood on his tongue.

During his reminiscing, his colleague had packed his things and fetched his shoes.

“Yeosang, won’t you stay?” Seonghwa got to his feet suddenly, chiding himself mentally for being a bad host. “A storm is rolling in, I can bring your sleeping mats out—”

But the younger man simply shook his head with a smile and stepped outside, breathing in the slightly citrusy aroma of bamboo in late fall. It was as fresh as it had been the day he found this little hideaway and ushered Seonghwa into it.

“I hope one of these days you consider putting your skills to use,” Yeosang teased on the way out, his tone light but his words serious. “The people could use a Mechanist.”

___

A/N: Welcome to Mechanosis!! It was born from a prompt in 2022's platonic fic fest on ao3 and I'm planning on expanding and finishing it, so if you like the late Joseon period/steampunk pirate vibes or are intrigued by the story thus far, please do stick around and let me know what you think :) I may be slow to update considering my many other works and crazy schedule but hearing from readers always helps with motivation so don't forget to leave some in the comments/reblogs!

Summary | Masterlist | Next →

#ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez au #tokki writes #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez fic #ateez angst #joseon era #steampunk au #mechanosis #ateez

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byleahgracie · 3 months

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Beneath the Camphor Tree has updated with Season 1, Ep46!!

Eun-ah is a woman who disguises herself as a man in order to earn a living as hired protection. When she by chance saves a young nobleman from being robbed by some crooks, she quickly learns that the young nobleman was actually the Crown Prince of Joseon, and he wants none other than for her to be his personal bodyguard! Trouble is, no one in the palace, least of all the crown prince, knows she's a woman, so she has to keep pretending to be a man...

#webtoon #webtoon recommendation #manhwa #manhwarecommendation #kdrama #historical kdrama #joseon era #cross dressing #bisexual #queer comics #lgbt comic #webcomic

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pittoresko · 1 year

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"Landscape with Streams and Mountains" (계 선 진 경 도), Korean painting (late 1700s or early 1800s) of the Joseon Period.

Visit Pittoresko for more Vintage Korean Art Prints. pittoresko.etsy.com

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therealmissmagoo2 · 1 month

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TS4 - Lady (Agissi)

Tray Files

#missmagoo2 #the sims 4 #sims4 #the sims cc #sims 4 #sims 4 cc #alpha cc #korean #joseon era #joseon dynasty #atelierlena #lookbook #korea #south korea

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danaclement26 · 1 month

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Platformer 1: Elevator Pitch

Game Title: The Guard of Joseon.

With his country under attack by a powerful unknown force, a young Korean solider must battle and defeat the attackers, swiftly making it to the palace where his King resides, protecting him from the fiercest of the enemy line. Will he make it in time, or will his kingdom be overthrown?

The Guard of Joseon is a 2D PvE platformer game set in the last dynastic kingdom of Korea, the Joseon Dynasty, which is under brutal attack. The player is in control of Jeong-gyu, a Korean soldier well established within the army ranks, who must fend off the attackers and most importantly, save his king! This game is targeted towards a young adult audience who enjoy platformer combat, and more specifically those who have an appreciation for history and the hardships faced in war times.

The player will be motivated to race against the clock to succeed, picking up upgrades, boosters, and extra rewards along the way. The road to the king’s palace will not be direct, rather there will be multiple routes the player can take, facing off against different enemies along each path.

The controls of the game entail the arrow keys for movement (left is left, right is right), space bar to jump, and mouse-controlled aim of arrows with left-click shoot.

I have included inspiration photos below:

Image 1 Source: Dana Clement, 'Gyeongbokgung Palace Museum' 08/02/24.

Image 2 Source: Dana Clement, 'Royal Guard' 08/02/24

Image 3 Source: Dana Clement, 'Goguryeo Cavalry' 25/02/24.

This is my first prototype for IGB120, in which we were tasked to create a platformer game in GDevelop. Although the platformer genre has a large variety, given the engine and accessible assets, I went for a more traditional 2D platformer that explores different terrains and environments in a linear format. I am not going for a super complex game given the timeframe for this project and being unfamiliar with GDevelop. I believe my goals for this game are achievable, as I want to create a simple yet fun and compelling game that explores typical platformer elements with my own ideas.

#elevator pitch #game development #gamedev #reflection #game design #joseon era #platformer games

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braemjeorn · 2 months

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min yoongi and heo mirae(oc)'s aesthetic, from my fic 'appreciation'

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riverlili · 11 months

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namkook au prince jk was arranged in a marriage with a king from another kingdom but he got scared bcs he hasn't seen this king nj yet nor was anybody telling him about him so he made an attempt to escape only for the king to see him while strolling in the garden

(inspired by that scene from the series queen charlotte hihi 🥰)

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edenesth · 25 days

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TWTHH Bonus: Honeymoon Avenue

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

A/N: This picks up directly from the final part of TWTHH, and takes place before the events of Wooyoung's spinoff.

Fic Masterlist | Star of the Show

You let out a small groan as you woke up from your slumber, feeling a familiar pair of arms tightening their hold around you. Your heart skipped a beat as you remembered where you were, blinking a few times to clear your vision and take in the surroundings you recognised as Seonghwa's private quarters.

Warmth rushed to your cheeks as you felt your husband's steady breath against the bare skin of your shoulder from behind. Shyness washed over you when you realised you were both still completely bare beneath the fabric of his comforter.

Memories of the intimacy from the previous night flooded your mind, and you buried your face in the pillow. It was as if you could still feel every touch, every kiss, and every moment of pleasure he had given you. So, this was how it felt to be loved so passionately. You hoped for nothing more than for him to be your first and last.

"Good morning, my love. I see you're up," his deep voice greeted, sounding even deeper than usual as he had only just woken up. He leaned in to whisper sensually into your ear before planting a soft kiss on your cheek, "Did you sleep well?"

Turning to face him, you nodded meekly, biting your lip, "I did, Hwa. Good morning to you too," you replied, feeling your breath hitch as his gaze focused solely on your lips.

He nodded in response, "Good, so did I." Without hesitation, he cupped your cheek and pressed his lips firmly against yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut the moment his familiar lips met yours. Kissing him back as if it were second nature, you wished for this moment to last forever as his larger frame enveloped yours, the skin-to-skin contact creating an intimacy that made you feel closer than ever. His ability to make you feel vulnerable yet safe at the same time still filled you with wonder. At that moment, his presence was all-encompassing; he was all you could see and think of.

I can't believe this man is all mine.

Seonghwa, equally content, felt his heart swell with affection for you. Caressing your cheek, he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, struggling to control his breathing when you bravely reached up to run your fingers through his hair, gently tugging at it. Despite witnessing your growing boldness since his return from war, your reciprocation of his affections still stirred his heart.

I'm yours and only yours, my love.

As you finally broke the kiss to catch your breath, he grinned and murmured, "Damn, Lady Park, who would've thought you'd be such an excellent kisser." Despite the blush creeping up your cheeks, you scoffed playfully. Moving to lay your head on his chest, you traced patterns on his skin with your finger, "What do you know, General Park? You speak as though you've kissed anyone other than me."

His pride swelled as he nodded in defeat to your response. Day by day, you were increasingly embodying the essence of the general's wife with your newfound demeanour. It wasn't that you needed to change for him; rather, it was remarkable to witness your transformation into a confident woman who knew her worth, having shed the old shell crafted by your so-called family. Reflecting on his time away at war, he began to see it as a blessing in disguise. Perhaps it was necessary for you to undergo further personal growth.

Nestling into the curve of his neck, you pulled the comforter up higher to conceal your front. A shiver raced down your spine as his hand traced gentle patterns on your bare back beneath the fabric, making you feel slightly bashful at being so exposed to him. He smirked, placing a kiss on your neck and teasing, "Are you getting shy now, my wife? There's no need to cover up or hide from me; I've already seen everything."

"You can be so annoying, you know that?" Rolling your eyes, you playfully pushed at his chest, but he easily resisted, his strength overpowering your feeble attempts. With feather-light kisses dancing across your skin, he tickled you, eliciting a giggle. Chuckling, he remarked, "Oh, come on. I miss the bold Lady Park who took charge last night."

Blushing, you let out an embarrassed squeal, "Oh, quit it! Stop reminding me!" He chuckled, hugging you close against him, his voice teasing as he whispered in your ear, "Remember how badly you wanted me to undo your hanbok?"

"Shut up, Park Seonghwa, or else—"

"Or else what, my dear Lady Park?"

Your husband's smug grin only fueled your frustration. Summoning a surge of determination, you swiftly flipped him onto the bed, looming over him as you straddled his hips, "I'll make you regret it," you declared, a playful glare in your eyes.

His heart skipped a beat as he looked up at you, struck by your beauty with your long hair framing your face like a curtain.

"Go ahead, my love. Make me regret."

Unbeknownst to the two, Eunsook and the group of maids assigned to bathe the couple all exchanged sheepish glances. The head maid cleared her throat, shooting a stern look at the young maids to silence them for fear of alerting you both, ordering in a soft voice, "We'll come back later. It seems the master and mistress are not quite prepared to begin their day just yet."

Jongho was taken aback to see the elderly woman return with the maids she had brought along, supposedly to get the couple ready for the day, "Huh? Are you all finished already? That was fast."

Dismissing the maids, Eunsook offered the assistant a knowing smile, "It appears the master and mistress are, um... still occupied at the moment. We'll come back later to check on them. For now, please ensure no one disturbs them."

His ears turned red as he registered what she meant by that, nodding quickly, "Y-yes, of course! I'll make sure no one passes through."

As half a day slipped away, you and Seonghwa finally emerged from his quarters, ready to receive your baths. The maids couldn't contain their giggles as they noticed the new marks adorning your skin, evidence of the passionate night—and morning—you and the general had shared. These marks were different from your old scars—they spoke of love and affection rather than pain. You pouted at their laughter, but they only laughed harder, "Enough, you meanies."

Eunsook softened as she washed your hair, "We're just happy for you, mistress. You are happy, aren't you?"

You bit your lip, nodding, "I am happy. The happiest woman on earth, if possible."

"Then that's all that matters to us."

Their hearts warmed at the beautiful smile that graced your face, wishing for nothing more than for you to remain content for as long as possible. You, the miracle who had brought so much light into the once sombre halls of the general's estate, truly deserved all the happiness in the world.

On the other side of the room, while assisting his master with the final touches of his outfit for the day, Jongho couldn't help but notice Seonghwa's dreamy expression and the persistent little smile on his handsome face.

"You seem to be in a good mood, sir," the assistant remarked as he focused on fastening the ribbons on the general's attire. Your husband nodded, "I am. Who would've thought married life isn't half as bad as we initially believed. In fact, it's pretty damn amazing. You should try it too, Jongho."

Blinking rapidly, the younger man raised a brow, "Try what? Marriage? Sir, I have no time for that. I'd make a terrible husband."

Seonghwa sighed, "See, that's your problem. You're always too dedicated, never making time for yourself. As much as I value your dedication, I want you to find happiness too."

"I am content, sir."

"Oh, come on, that's not what I meant—"

"Your outfit is ready, sir. You're all set."

Shaking his head in resignation, the general rubbed his temples, "Wooyoung was right about you. You need to get a life."

"He said what? The audacity—"

Heaving a deep sigh, Seonghwa rubbed his eyes after going over all the reports Mingi had prepared detailing every aspect of the recent war with Ruhon—the strategies employed and areas for improvement. The documents required his stamp of approval before they were shipped off to be stored in the palace archives. The military strategist had provided such detailed explanations that they were now giving him a headache.

"Gosh, I can't decide whether I love or hate Officer Song for these long ass reports. They're thorough to the point of being exhausting," he said with a shake of his head, "Is that everything, Jongho?"

The assistant nodded, gathering the completed scrolls to be delivered to San for a final vetting, "Yes, sir. That was the last of it. You're finished for the day. If that is all, I should probably hand these over to Royal Secretary Choi immediately."

"Oh, thank god. Go ahead, Jongho."

With a respectful bow, the younger man did not waste another second making a beeline for the exit, his mind focused on nothing else but his task. The general stared after him with a defeated huff, wishing for his aide to be a little less uptight and to live a little, "I should probably find him a wife."

Speaking of wives, he was reminded of his own. Suddenly, all concerns for Jongho's love life were pushed to the back of his mind and forgotten. Excitedly rising from his seat, his heart raced with anticipation as he set off to find you. He felt bad for leaving you alone for most of the day due to his work, but now he couldn't wait to have you all to himself.

Oh, it would feel like paradise.

He frowned, his steps faltering when he found you nowhere in the House of Lotus. Hastening his pace, he headed to the garden, where you often spent time tending to the flowers with Eunsook and the maids, only to find it empty. As a last resort, he even checked Yunho's quarters, torn between relief at finding the physician alone and frustration at not finding you.

Could you be upset with him for not spending time with you all day? No, that didn't seem like you at all. You were literally the most understanding person he knew. So, where could you be hiding? The wildest scenarios began to creep into his mind when he couldn't find you. What if his enemies had somehow infiltrated the estate? What if you were kidnapped? What if—

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of you in the living hall, seated with Hongjoong and Wooyoung, seemingly engrossed in something. The two men watched you intently, particularly the investigator, who seemed more focused on your face than whatever you were doing. With a clearing of his throat, Seonghwa crossed his arms over his chest, "What are you three up to?"

Turning to glare at him, the dressmaker hushed him, "Keep it down, you doofus! She's trying to concentrate!"

Feeling offended, your husband narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to finally see what you had been up to; you were focused on learning embroidery. It dawned on him that Hongjoong must be teaching you a bit about his craft. He softened as he observed the deeply immersed look on your face, with your tongue poking out of the corner of your lips in concentration.

Good lord, she looks adorable.

In his attempt to move closer to you, he was met with yet another warning glare, causing annoyance to bubble within him. While he was grateful for the company Hongjoong and Wooyoung provided you in his absence, a part of him couldn't shake the irritation of seeing you accompanied by other men, even if they were his friends.

At that moment, he questioned why the guys were still around. The dressmaker, physician, and investigator had only been summoned while he was away at war to watch over you. Now that he was back home, he realised their presence was no longer necessary. It was then that he made a firm decision. From now on, he was determined to spend this time after your wedding alone with you.

The general wasted no time gathering his three friends that evening as soon as your embroidery lesson came to an end. With a polite yet firm tone, he explained his desire to have some alone time with you, dismissing them from the estate. Hongjoong and Yunho exchanged knowing glances, understanding the importance of the honeymoon period for passionate newlyweds like yourselves. Although Wooyoung was reluctant to go, he ultimately knew he had no choice but to comply with Seonghwa's request.

In a matter of days, the trio officially left the estate, returning to their own lives. This left you and your husband alone at last, ready to begin this new chapter of your lives together.

True to his expectations, the weeks that followed were pure bliss. He requested time off from work, and His Majesty was happy to oblige. He spent nearly every waking hour glued to you. By this point, everyone in the estate knew better than to interrupt when the master and mistress wanted privacy, ensuring the couple had all the intimate moments they needed. There were even jokes among the staff that a little Park might be on the way soon at this rate.

And perhaps their predictions weren't so far-fetched after all. It was on a fine day when you were spending another lovely afternoon in the House of Lotus practising embroidering, or at least tried to, with your husband seated behind you, his arms encircling your frame, that you began to show signs of sickness.

Leaving kisses all over your neck, he tickled you endlessly, causing you to giggle and push him away, "Hwa, please, I can't focus when you keep—" Before you could finish your sentence, a sudden wave of nausea hit you, and you let out a small gasp, pressing a hand to your chest to contain it.

Concerned, he immediately stopped and turned you around gently, "What is it, my love? Are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine... the feeling's gone, maybe it was something I ate," you reassured him when he suggested summoning the physician. Eventually, he relented and left you alone.

The second time occurred during dinner, with the kitchen having prepared one of your favourite dishes. Instead of savouring it as you normally would, you pressed a hand to your nose, "You okay, my wife?" you nodded and attempted to eat, only to end up retching from the smell of the dish.

Once again, you insisted you were fine and refused to see the doctor. He let you be, telling himself that if anything else were to happen, he wouldn't hesitate to call Yunho over. You convinced him that you must have caught the cold or something, seemingly fine after some rest.

The breaking point came during a leisurely stroll together in the garden. He tightened his hold on you when he noticed you swaying slightly. Smiling up at him, you reassured him, "I'm fine, Hwa. You worry too much." To ease his worries, you pressed your lips against his. For a moment, it worked, and he lost himself in the sweet kiss.

However, when you pulled back, seemingly out of breath, his heart lurched in his chest as your eyes rolled back, and he didn't waste a second catching your limp form in his arms.

"Jongho! Get Physician Jung here now!"

The sense of terror hit Seonghwa like a tidal wave as he found himself cradling you, unconscious, on his bed. Seeing you like this scared him more than any war ever could. Yunho rushed in shortly after, and the general reluctantly stepped aside to let the doctor examine you. Gently, he held your wrist, reading your pulse, after ensuring you were physically alright.

A few tense moments later, the taller man turned around with a smile, and your husband held his breath, "Congratulations, General Park. Your wife is with child."

Emotions surged within your husband as he released a sigh of relief, tears gathering in his eyes. The realisation dawned on him—of course, you were pregnant. How had he not considered that sooner? Slowly, the significance of it all began to sink in. The love of his life was carrying his child.

I'm going to be a father.

Y'all, I was sleep-deprived asf writing the second half part of this bonus part HAHA I hope it didn't seem rushed or anything.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/3): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sansaurora9904 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rhwa @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @laurenwidjaja @yangwonielvrs @n1k1mura @idkwgoh @loveateez @linosllvr @idfkeddieishot

#edenesth #the way to his heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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