#wip: the valet's daughter

[writerfae]

The Valet’s Daughter - Family Trees

This is not much and the few people who noticed this wip already forgot about it by now probably, but this has been sitting in my drafts forever, so now I’m finally posting it.

wip intro

tag list: @wildswrites

[theshippirate22]

listen i’ve got like 18 different wips that aren’t going anywhere so I should definitely not start another one but i’ve just thought of the best thing and i don’t know who to tell so y’all get to hear:

(background here: i’ve been listening to Labour by Paris Paloma on repeat pretty much since the second it was released. if you’re on tiktok, you’ve probably heard it, and if you haven’t go listen to it right now because it slaps every time)

so transfem stevie harrington was disowned by her parents as a teenager for being a disappointment and a failure, shit like that, and so when Prince Thomas asks her to marry him, she’s really got no other choice. there’s a caveat, however. the prince isn’t allowed to marry a woman, because it’s generally accepted that women are useless and it makes more sense for two men to keep the throne (i.e. no homophobia, lots of misogyny) so stevie has to keep her dead identity as Prince Steve.

her marriage to Tommy is miserable, though. it’s no surprise he was so desperate to marry her, because no one else could stand him. he’s so particular about things, and he likes “steve” a certain way- all the ways that make stevie so horribly dysphoric. she ends up hiding in her wing of the castle when she’s not needed to dress up and hide away the part of her that wants something else.

it doesn’t help that her valet is the sweetest, strangest man ever, who seems to know what goes on when Tommy’s away. stevie’s quite sure it’s him that’s leaving dresses and makeup and jewelry and shoes in her armoire when she’s not around.

the worst of it though, is her daughter. because all royalty is male, heirs are chosen through a competition to establish the fittest. Lady Maxine won the competition a few years prior and while she seems to know somethings off with stevie, she hasn’t seemed to figure it out quite yet. when max gets in trouble with Tommy and things escalate a little too quickly, stevie knows they’ve got to get out of this castle, and this kingdom as soon as they can, if only to protect max.

while they’re rushing to pack and slip out the window in the dead of night, stevie’s valet, eddie, catches them but instead of turning them in and forcing them to face their fates, he steals them a chaise and some horses, deciding to come with them and offer whatever protection he can because he’s “loyal to milady.”

while they try to escape, they run into an overworked, livid housewife (nancy!) and a depreciated, frustrated lesbian (robin!) who decide to come along with them.

idk maybe i’m delusional? i just think it could be so good lmk if you’d even read something like that and i’ll do a snippet

[talktomeinclexa]

The Royal Guard

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Gun violence, Blood and Injury

Status: WIP

Summary: Princess Clarke of Arkadia is kidnapped by mercenaries while on a visit to one of the kingdom's cities. Her abductors treat her well enough, but everything becomes more complicated when their client orders them to execute her. Lexa thought this was just another job. High risk, high pay. But when push comes to shove, will she betray her orders or her heart?

***

Chapter 3: Complications

The servants stepped aside as King Jake strode down the corridors on autopilot, an ashen look on his face. A valet, too focused on moving a precious vase so it stood exactly in the middle of an 18th-century marble dresser, almost bumped into him before jumping as if he had been burned.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” he stuttered, his tomato-red face angled toward his feet.

But the king’s mind reeled with the news whispered in his ear by one of his advisers a few minutes before. Already ten steps away, he waved dismissively without turning back to acknowledge the apology. Or his fault in the matter.

He stormed inside a well-guarded room on the second floor of the Palace, where part of his Council had assembled.

“What do we know?” he asked, the door still ajar behind him.

If he had had any hope the whole situation was but a mere sick joke, it died at the sight of the faces looking back at him, suffused with gravity.

“My men are going through the scene as we speak,” Charles Pike said. Once the king had taken his place at the head of the table, the Chief of Intelligence continued. “We know Her Royal Highness Princess Clarke was kidnapped half an hour ago while she was leaving Reim’s Art Museum. At least five masked individuals entered the museum, subdued the guards, and opened fire. Two of the princess’s bodyguards were critically injured. Major Byrne also is in surgery, although her wounds are not life-threatening. She reported that the Princess wasn’t hurt during the attack and bravely surrendered so their lives would be spared. The curator, Mr. Wallace, is still in shock but suffered no harm.”

King Jake nodded at the unimpassioned report, his jaw clenching when Pike mentioned his daughter surrendering. Regardless of what the Geneva Convention said, if he caught the people who had dared to go after her, there would be hell to pay.

“Have the kidnappers contacted us? Asked for a ransom of any sort?”

Pike shook his head, his brows furrowed. “Not yet, Your Majesty. We are monitoring all channels for contact, either with us or between them and possible accomplices.”

Nature had blessed the Arkadian monarch. Tall, intelligent, with deep blue eyes, flaxen hair, and a strong jaw worthy of a Hollywood actor, King Jake had spent years in the Army before ascending to the throne. Even at 50 years old, he remained fit and handsome, but the news hit him hard, making him suddenly look every bit his age.

Everyone knew the king and queen adored their daughters. Few royal families were as united and warm, in public and in private. If anything were to happen to Princess Clarke, her parents and younger sister would never be the same again.

Keep reading

[bitletsanddrabbles]

WIP Wednesday: Working on that ‘focus’ thing

Right. So. I’ve mentioned that I’m trying to focus on just one or two things and actually clear out the WIP folder a bit. One of those things is, and probably will be for the next three years, the Thomas-as-heir novel. I mean, even once I get my research done and pound out a rough draft, that bastard’s gonna need editing up the ying yang and not to put too fine a point on it, I’ve never edited a novel before. It’s going to be more like a complete re-write.

But. It is a thing I am working on, actively, so while I sit and wait for the interlibrary loan system to deliver my books - something I am being very patient about, especially the one I ordered last week which is in system, was marked as ‘available’, and my father could have checked out and delivered to me the next day but oh no, I’ll just order it - have a small snippet of Thomas and his new fuck buddy upper crust friend at a party where they’ve just run into Thomas’s absolute bastard ex the Duke of Crowborough.

Thomas frowned into the night, not really seeing the lights of London. Looking back at it, that was when he’d really fallen for the other man. The weeks of slipping out whenever he could, of covert meetings and passionate abandon, they’d been nice, but no different than any other affair. It was that first letter that had worked its way past the armor he’d already started constructing for himself. The sound of wool against stone as Simon shifted next to him brought him back to the present. “When the Titanic sank and I thought Lady Mary would inherit, my first instinct was to write Phillip,” he continued. “It just…it seemed like such a neat solution to everything. He’d get his heiress; I’d get to be valet, and we’d have each other. It would be perfect.”

“I didn’t hear anything about Lady Mary in that,” Simon noted, his tone somewhat dry. A sideways glance showed Thomas that he was smirking.

With a soft chuckle, Thomas looked away, only slightly ashamed by his past indifference to his employer’s daughter. “Yes, well, she was Lady Mary, wasn’t she? Didn’t really care about her, back then. If I had thought about it, I’d have said she’d have gotten to be a Duchess. What more does a woman like that want?” He looked askance at the other man. Simon thought about it a moment, then shrugged, indicating that he didn’t know either. After all, it was well acknowledged that, in many regards, the London Season had only slightly more to do with romance than a horse auction. “Anyway, Mary wasn’t the point. The point was, I wrote Phillip because I wanted to be with him. I thought he wanted to be with me.

“Thing is, while we’d written, we’d not seen each other in a year. More than that. Despite the letters, I did wonder if, when he got there, if he’d still feel the same. I told myself that he would, of course he would, and if he didn’t when he first arrived…well, he’d fallen for me once, hadn’t he? Shouldn’t take much to remind him why. And if he still didn’t…well…” He trailed off, taking another drag off his cigarette. They said a burden shared was a burden halved, but poking through his old wounds didn’t make them feel any more healed. Quite the opposite. And why should he feel obligated to put Simon’s mind at ease? He hadn’t asked the other man to take him under his wing and show him around the shady corners of the aristocracy.

“If he still didn’t,” Simon supplied, “Then you had the letters.”

With a heartfelt sigh, Thomas closed his eyes and rested his head against the stone behind him. “Right. I just never really believed…” His closed eyes meant that he didn’t see the touch coming. There was just the soft feel of a finger against his cheek, running down the line of his jaw to his neck and then sliding around to the back of his head, shifting into a comforting massage at the base of his skull. He smiled and opened his eyes again, turning to find the other man watching him with open sympathy. Somehow it was easier to take from Simon, from another man like him, than it would have from anyone back at Downton. It still made his stomach do that uncomfortable little twist.

Reaching up, he gently pushed the hand away. “Please don’t think I’ve been pining over him all of these years,” he insisted, forcing himself to smile. “Really. I’ve not thought about him since before the war.” That wasn’t quite true. There had been a few times, when he’d been cowering in the trenches, listening to the sound of distant shelling, that he’d wondered where his former lover was. If he was near by, in another battle field; buried in a hole, or back home in England. If, at some point, he was going to be the one on the stretcher Thomas was carrying. “It’s only, seeing him again, now that everyone knows who I really am and having him treat me like I’m still a servant, still a footman at that… Well. I suppose it’s just a sharp reminder that there are people who will never see me as anything worthwhile is all. Even if I were the long lost crown prince.”

[667-darkavenue]

young legends die all the time (part one.)

i havent shared any of my writing in a while so in my traditional style, i’ll share a WIP in the middle of the night. this is an allurance gang au. despite the title, no one actually dies.

The royal families were something of a myth for Lance when he was growing up.

“Never cross that street,” his mom hissed, squeezing the wrist she’d just yanked him back by.

“Why?” he whined, from both pain and petulance.

“If the Witch sees little boys from our side of town, she steals them and eats them.” She said it like a matter of fact. “Our side is safe.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause the King watches over us, papi.”

The parents of this torn city desperately needed some way to hammer in hard lessons to their children without breaking their innocence. When he was older, Lance would wonder if that’s the reason why everything to do with the royal families was given such whimsical language. But while he was a kid, it totally worked.

“Wanna play Druids and Paladins?” His friends would ask in the schoolyard.

The children flipped a penny to decide who would play the leaders, then the pretend-Witch and pretend-King would choose their teams. Sometimes the weapons were water balloons, or nerf guns, or just two fingers pointed at their opponents with a ‘Bang!’

This had an unintended consequence their parents didn’t account for. As far back as Lance could remember, he always wanted to be a paladin.

Fresh out of high school, he got a job at the same restaurant as his best friend. Unfortunately, they never saw each other. Hunk worked all the way at the back of the kitchen and Lance didn’t even work inside the place. He stood out front, opened doors to cars that pulled in, and took them to valet parking.

That’s how he became friends with the finest girl in the world.

Within his first few days on the job, a white Bentley pulled into the driveway. An older man sat in the driver’s seat and a cascade of thick hair bent down in the passenger side, probably fishing a purse out from around her feet. Lance opened the door from her side first, offering a hand to help the lady out. She took it with barely glance at him, sweeping a bit of silvery hair out of the way as she slung her purse over her shoulder and stepped out of the car. It was a fancy restaurant with fancy clientele, but something about the casual way people interacted with Lance as if valets weren’t anything out of the ordinary for them never stopped catching him off guard. This girl though. She paused once she was on her feet and got a proper look at him. And he got a good look at her too. Oh shit, she’s gorgeous.

She pulled her hand away from his. “You’re new.”

She’s got an accent!!!!

“You can tell?” Lance’s chest pounded. “What’d I do?”

The smile she gave him was a small one, but it still crinkled the corners of her bright blue eyes. “Nothing.”

Her father, who was also striking to look at, came around from the other side of the car. Side by side, the pair smelled like money and oozed sophistication.

He passed Lance the keys and noted, “You’re new.”

“Yeah,” Lance answered, voice devastated at how obvious it apparently was.

Father and daughter shared an amused look, a silent inside joke, between each other. They didn’t bother to fill Lance in, either. Without a word, they entered the restaurant.

It didn’t take long to get somewhat familiar with them. Her father was a regular there and tipped a ten every time. Naturally, Lance adored him. The dad had to like him back, right?

The restaurant had a round table that was never given to customers under any circumstances, no matter how packed the night was. It was always left open so that just in case that father or his daughter walked in, they could be seated right away. Even if they didn’t show up for ten nights in a row, the table would stay empty. Like they were phantoms of the freaking opera.

They used it now and then for private father-daughter dinners. More often, it was used to hold meetings with all manner of people. People in suits, people in sweats, local government officials, guys with face tattoos. Lance got a signal from the hostess whenever the round table’s dinner was drawing to a close, so that their Bentley would be ready and waiting the moment they stepped outside. All the other normal customers needed to hand Lance a ticket and stand outside while he fetched their car.

One night, the finest girl in the world stepped out early. The swoosh of the front door brought the chatter of the restaurant outside. Lance’s heart jumped into his throat when he realized it was her.

“Oh! Sorry, I don’t have your car ready,” He blurted, a little flustered. “Romelle usually gives me a sign to get ready for you guys.”

The door swung closed behind her, muffling the din inside and leaving them alone in the dim stillness of the driveway. “It’s alright. We aren’t leaving.”

She walked a few steps closer to the edge of the driveway, looking out at the road. Lance had no idea what she was doing or what he was supposed to be doing. A silent pause stretched between them.

She looked back toward him. “What is the sign?”

“The wha?” “You said you get a signal when she knows we’re finishing up.”

“Oh. It’s—Uh—Kind of a joke.”

She raised her eyebrows, urging him on without a word.

“She says,” Lance reluctantly admitted, “The british are coming.”

He laughed halfway through, ‘cause it was so dumb.

It got a chuckle out of the finest girl in the world, as well. “But she’s British as well.”

“I know,” Lance snorted.

He could see the round table through the restaurant’s front window if he stood in the right spot. Lance craned his neck to scope out the situation. Her dad was still sitting down over coffee with three old white guys.

“Things get awkward at the table or what?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just so boring I wanted to fall asleep on the tablecloth. I think some fresh air will wake me up.” Her heels clacked on the pavement as she paced in small circles.

“Yeah, I feel that. You have no idea how much time I spend just waiting out here by myself.”

“At least it’s not stressful.”

Lance shrugged. “It’s fine. I think I’d rather be doing something stressful, but c’est la vie.” “You should’ve been a waiter, then.”

“I tried, but I had no serving experience. So they turned me down and offered this instead.”

She crossed her arms and stepped a little closer. “What experience do you have?”

Lance started listing them with his fingers. “I’m a good driver, good talker—”

“Oh, are you?” “You’re still here, so better than those guys.” With a jerk of his chin, Lance pointed with his lips to the inside of the restaurant.

She looked at her father’s table with the smallest curl lingering at the corner of her lips. She looked back at Lance. “I’m Allura, by the way.”

“I’m Lance.”

“Hello.”

“Hey.”

“You didn’t get very far in listing your skills.”

“Oh, right.” Lance lifted a third finger and continued, “Good kisser...”

She rolled her eyes and raised a hand over her mouth to cover another laugh.

The sound emboldened Lance. “Any chance I could get your number, Allura?”

“Oh, of course.”

His entire face lit up.

She reached into her purse, but did not pull out her phone. In her hand was the valet slip, held between two fingers.

“We’re number twenty five.” She grinned, a little bit playful and a little bit wicked.

Lance’s favorite nights were when Allura came in. If work slowed down, he’d slink over to the window and watch her sip illegal champagne from her flute. Not in, like, a creepy way. There was just something nice about getting to see the finest girl in the world on a somewhat regular basis. This kind of serene, sighing, ‘ahhhhh’ feeling behind his ribs. Not unlike the way it feels to get a nice long look at the ocean on a clear day.

On a good night, Allura would come outside while her dad was still wrapping up conversation at the table or having long, drawn-out goodbyes at the entrance. She’d lean against the car and talk to Lance until it was time to go.

He asked her out once. She said no. He asked her if she was sure the next night. She said yes. But she still liked to come out and talk to him for a few minutes after dinner, so no harm done.

Sometimes she came in without her dad at all, to have some drinks with her friends around the end of Lance’s shift. She’d beckon him inside to join them when closing time was near and her table was the only one still occupied. He had to drive her back home once. Of course, that meant he needed to leave her car there and walk forty minutes back to his own home at midnight. But that was fine. Lance lived on the nice side of town. The side where crime just didn’t happen. Parents could let their children play outside while they cleaned inside. Girls could walk home alone at night. People who tried to start shit mysteriously disappeared. And the victims who got messed with were always paid back for their losses in mysterious ways.

When he was thirteen, someone broke into Lance’s home. After a sweep of the house, his mom’s jewelry box and his dad’s one nice watch were the only things missing. There wasn’t much else worth taking. His parents blamed themselves for thinking they didn’t need better security than a lock on the door. A few days after they filed the police report, his mom got a call directly from the local pawn shop. They had all her missing jewelry and the watch and wanted to return it to her, free of charge. She had to go pick it up directly from the shop. Not the police station.

Anyway, everyone’s tragic stories took place far from the restaurant’s neighborhood. The muggings, the assaults, the missing persons—All of it happened beyond the streets his mother had told him never to cross.

But after a year of working there, something happened.

That one familiar Bentley pulled up to the restaurant in something of a hurry. Lance had never seen Allura’s dad brake hard before. He opened the passenger door for her, as always. He offered his gloved hand to help her step out of the car, then closed it behind her and went around the hood to take the keys from her father.

Alfor gripped Lance’s arm when he passed the keys. “Don’t take any cars you don’t recognize tonight. Tell them we are closed for a private event.”

“Sure. You got it.”

“There’s something for you in the glove compartment. I want you to take it and hold onto it.”

He nodded and tried not to look as puzzled as he felt. Alfor gave him a pat on the back and finally released Lance’s arm. A little frazzled, Lance hopped into the driver’s seat and immediately reached for the glove compartment.

The passenger door flung open and Allura dove into the seat. “Wait!”

She slammed both hands over Lance’s, shoving the compartment shut before he could take a look inside. She kept one hand there while the other scrambled to clumsily shut the door behind her.

“What are you doing? What’s going on?” Lance was getting nervous and his voice was rising.

“You don’t need to get involved.” Allura gently pried his fingers away from the glove compartment handle. She shifted to sit sideways so that her body could face him. She clutched his hand in both of hers. “You can walk away. Nothing will happen to you.”

“Walk away from...? What is in there?”

Her eyes were so bright and they gave Lance an intense look that he couldn’t decipher the meaning of at all. “Allura. I have no idea what’s going on.”

“I know. It’s not fair.”

“But I wanna be involved.” God, his palm was probably getting sweaty between her soft hands. “I wanna be your friend. I want to be here when something’s wrong.”

She shook her head. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“Look, there’s literally nothing that would make me walk away from you right now. Or ever.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nope.”

“Lance, that is…” Allura released his hand. “Just… So unwise.”

“No, it isn’t!”

She scoffed, a helpless little huff of breath through her nostrils.

“What’s in there?” He asked again.

Slowly, Allura reached out and pulled the glove compartment open. It was empty except for a swathe of blue velvet cloth wrapped around something. Lance leaned over and reached across Allura, into the compartment. He unfolded the cloth in his lap, revealing a gorgeous, ornate pistol. The kind known members of the royal family’s paladins were rumored to carry around. The King’s crest was gilded into the handle. It might as well have been a legend to Lance.

part two ==>

[aiupenn]

⌈ WIP Intro - Finally Fallen ⌋

────────────────────────────────── MEDIUM: novel. GENRE: regency romance. QUESTION: is true love worth loss? STATUS: plotted; on hold for fan-fiction projects. ─────────────────────────────────── SYNOPSIS: Mr. Edmund Howe had given up his title of Marquess as easily as breathing to achieve the life he wanted. Unfortunately for him, that meant the rest of the world thinks him a simpleton. He's always kept a joyful air about him, though. Until now. Now he's stuck loving Lady Merchant, a person he has no right to love. Not only is she the daughter of an Earl and he himself is an untitled man, but she is also already promised to someone else. His happy life has been dashed, so he can only hope to make sure she keeps smiling…

Lady Elizabeth Merchant suffered through the death of her true love, Thomas Ellis, when her father found out about her plans to elope with the valet. Now, two years later, she keeps herself busy by breaking hearts and every rule of precedence put before her. She is saved from her despair when her beloved Thomas suddenly reappears, bearing a terrifying tale. She always knew she would be happy with him, but even as she comes to be reacquainted with Thomas, she can't help but wonder why he doesn't make her heart beat as fast as the untitled teacher down the street… ─────────────────────────────────── MAIN CHARACTERS:

↳ Edmund Howe: A kindly and optimistic young man, who prefers a simple and uneventful life. He likes to read, teach, and learn. Unfortunately, he has a meddlesome boss who drags him to a ball where he meets Lady Merchant and falls for her almost immediately. He tries to distance himself from her to be proper, but the Lady seems determined to become friends. ↳ Elizabeth Merchant: Although selfish and blunt, Elizabeth isn’t truly a cruel person. She’s very unaware of the people around her and their feelings, but she generally strives to be fair to most everyone. Her worst traits have been exemplified in the past couple years since the death of her true love, Thomas. However, when he returns, it’s not him who seems to be encouraging her to be a better person, but Edmund. Because of this, she becomes determined to find out everything about him that she can.

SIDE CHARACTERS:

↳ Thomas Ellis: Elizabeth’s presumed dead true love. They only reunite by accident at a ball. He’s very calm and polite, and now has a title as a Viscount. ↳ Francis Merchant: Elizabeth’s father. An overbearing and unbelievably strict man. ↳ Jane Merchant: Elizabeth’s mother. In contrast to her husband, she’s fairly meek. Her only true love in life seems to be her daughter, whom she struggles to make happy as best she can. ↳ Louise: Elizabeth’s lady-in-waiting and one of the only people she could perhaps call a “friend”. ↳ Lord Seton: Edmund’s boss and headmaster of the school he works at. He is determined to get Edmund to marry a well-off young lady despite Edmund’s insistence that he doesn’t want to wed. 

[fairyguks]

work in progress tag

this took forever to do oh my god i was tagged by @chanyeolingss​ ; tagging @boymeetsfiction​ , @peachseong​ , and @httpsung​ !

tricks up his sleeve ; now you see me!au ; reader x taehyung

By now, he was pretty sure he could drive around laps of the parking lot with his eyes shut based upon how long he’s been working as a valet. Every width of each parking spot, each speed required to execute a proper turn to drive into the next lane... he had memorized it all. But the employee policy was to avoid car accidents with vehicles he could never afford.

“Tae!” Yoongi was slouched over the stand underneath the umbrella as if it’ll shield away the heat. The sun was setting, an orange hue painting the darkening sky, and yet the heat had never let up even though the clock was ticking towards 8 pm. There weas a black BMW at a stop near Taehyung’s coworker and a man sticking his head out the tinted windows.

“Coming,” he made sure to push another ounce of cheerfulness in his low voice, jogging over to meet the man who stepped out his car. “Hello sir, welcome to Emerson Resorts. I hope you have a lovely stay.” Taehyung’s polite greeting was returned with a grunt and a dropping of keys into his palm. The man’s wife trailed behind him, calling for a bellhop to help with their luggage, and their young son had his eyes glued on his handheld gaming device.

Once the three had moved forward to the lobby, Taehyung’s smile had dropped to a grimace and he trudged over to the bellhop who was struggling with the endless amount of designer suitcases. Before he could run over and help, another set of hands was already unloading a few.

“Really, miss, I got it,” Jungkook hurried but you were stubborn and managed to get most of them down. Taehyung twirled the key ring around his slender finger, deftly moving maneuvering it, as he watched you curiously. Like your parents, you were dressed luxuriously and he knew that pretty necklace alone could pay off his tuition for college. But the aura that surrounded you didn’t beg for attention like your mother nor stave off any people because you were approachable unlike your father.

“You gotta let us do our job,” he chuckled and watched his coworker load the rest of the suitcases onto the trolley before rolling it in. You shrugged and crossed your arms.

“It doesn’t hurt to help, does it… Taehyung?” you read his name tag and he found himself enamored with how his name seemed to roll off your tongue so sweetly.

“Hm. Suppose not.” Your lips quirked up in a vague smile before running inside the lobby of the hotel, leaving him to hop into the drivers’ seat and find a suitable parking spot for the pretty girl.

 imprinted ; werewolf!au ;  reader x jimin

red clouded his vision the moment you stepped through the golden doors of the ballroom. crimson fabric hugged your figure like a second skin, flaring out like a flame once your hips twisted to the melody of the violins. you were without a partner, dancing to the songs of the band as if you had no care upon your shoulders. black heels clicked to the rhythm of the bass and the sensual jazz music fit deliciously well with your moves.

he leaned against the mahogany counter of the bar. jimin clutched the glass a little too tightly, feeling the condensation build into small droplets that cooled his burning hand. throwing his head back, he felt the amber liquid burn his throat as it traveled down. his entire body warmed, wondering if his cheeks had maybe reddened slightly at the hard liquor, and after placing the glass down, he gave a smirk to the bartender then made his way towards you. in a sea of black and white attire, you were as bright as a flame.

as you spun on your toe, you had twirled elegantly right into his arms. his hands found purchase on your waist and yours linked behind his neck in response. words weren’t spoken and instead, the both of you used movements to converse. you pressed your body against his, feeling the taut muscles underneath the suit that fit him all too well, breaths mingling with one another.

“this was a black and white ball,” he murmured in your ear, pulling away for you to see his eyes as nothing but black; his pupils were blown and you nearly shivered at the lust that scratched at his words.

you allowed him to twirl you before finding yourself with your back against his chest, your arms crossed at your middle where he held your hands by your sides. “i guess i didn’t get the memo.” your voice was wry, playful and bright compared to the dull conversations he had been forced to partake in earlier. he chuckled at your reply, chest rumbling behind you as he suddenly pushed you away to twirl you, pulling you back in so your arms were folded in between you, hands clutching at his shoulders for balance.

“it wasn’t just your dress that got my attention.” he leaned in so his lips were pressed against your hairline, an oddly intimate moment that contrasted harshly with the hot and heavy notions you were getting from him earlier. “it was you. you’re… you don’t belong here.” and neither did he.

offense hit you like a dull knife at his comment. “excuse me?”

“the families here had generations growing up together. no one is unknown at this ball.” immediately, you looked around and realized no one was an odd man out; there were no strangers. “except you. how did you get in?”

you frowned, wondering why this handsome man wasn’t already alerting security or—“aren’t you gonna kick me out?”

he shook his head. “no. i want to know how you, a mortal of all things, got in here without dying at the doorstep.” your breath caught at your throat and you wrangled away from his grasp, entirely freaked out by that simple sentence. raised in a ‘shoot now, ask questions later’ home, you knew better than to stick around to try and figure out what he meant. so you ran.

bolting out the side door and into an alley, cold air hit you like tiny pinpricks but adrenaline pushed you to keep running and running—

“look, you can’t run.” the man from the ball approached you calmly from the end of the alley, suddenly appearing out of nowhere as he placed his hands in his comments. “i’m your safest bet to stay alive right now since you made one hell of a scene running away from me.”

“get the hell away from me!” you yelled and followed your instincts; you threw your stiletto at him.

 if the crown fits ; royalty!au ; this is a snippet of the wip, since i’m like 4k words in ; jimin x reader x tae

Grunts and pants echoed throughout the ballroom, mixed with the clangs of metal swords and heavy boots that fell upon the tiled floors. "Come on, Tae Tae," Jin provoked, leaning in as he managed a smirk between the crossed swords that created a deadlock between the two men. "Where's the strength?"

The prince grunted in frustration as he pushed against the taller man, successfully breaking the locked swords and pointing his against him once more. Despite the sweat that clung to the back of his neck and the ruffled clothing that hung messily upon his frame, poise radiated from his posture as he awaited for Jin's next move. "Where's the skill?" Taehyung retorted as he braced for the strike that was quickly anticipated once he noticed the twitch in the other man's shoulder.

Conversation immediately ceased as a dangerous dance ensued between the princes. Each jab was met with a counter attack and a side step was followed with a strike. A swing was knocked aside with another and each parry was dodged. The two were easily matched but the tremendous amount of skill each possessed gave the other a thrill, a type of learning experience. After combinations of deflects and lunges, the two found each other at a standstill; their opponent's swords were pointed at their necks.

With heavy breaths, a lazy smile crossed both their lips as they dropped their swords. Exhaustion settled upon them as their strong stances deflated into a slight slump.

"You're improving," Jin commented as he sheathed his sword. Taehyung did the same as he took the compliment with a boxy grin. "Truly. The accuracy is almost deadly."

Servants were quick to enter with water, eyes pointed to the floor as they offered the glasses to the princes. They politely dismissed them once they finished. "So what's this I hear about a thief that's stolen your heart?”

glass ceiling ; pairing unknown

White and gray houses lined the perfect streets, forming a perfect image of suburbia for the perfect families of four. Each building housed a mother, a father, a son, and a daughter. Perfect families. Perfect, perfect… but empty.

‘Crimes had soared higher than ever before in the early 2000s,’ the children’s history books reported. It is now the year 4891. Freedom was an act of treason. War was vital to achieve peace. And silence was golden.

It was what kept their streets clean of the riffraff that had tainted their towns and cities with unspeakable crimes. It was what kept fathers bringing food home to place on all their white tables. It was what kept mothers holding their tongue, to submit to their husbands. It was what kept their children obedient and in line. Of course, children weren’t born perfect. They were made to be perfect.

If not, they had to be discarded.

But with each perfect city and town, something dirtier and wild was hidden underneath. It wasn’t the uniformed black and white like the paradise above them but splattered with the colors that was Banned for daily life. Rumored were the ones who chose to listen to hateful music once curfew’s bell rang out, throwing themselves to one another in obscene fashion that fought against the conservative rules that shaped their society.

a deal, not a vow ; heir!yoongi ; the main fic where heir!yoongi drabble came from! ; reader x yoongi

"What do you mean I can't collect my trust fund?" The designer sunglasses that he wore, used to hide the dark crescents beneath his eyes, were now sliding down the slope of his nose as he stared at the lawyer in shock. Jungkook and Taehyung weren't doing any better at handling the news.

The lawyer shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the full weight of Yoongi's gaze fell upon him. "It-It says here that..."

"That I must be at the age of 25 to receive the money," he continued. "So why can't I get it?"

"Provided if you have a marriage certificate," the lawyer finished meekly. Three sets of eyes widened at the final part and after a couple seconds, two sets directed their gaze to the man in question.

"Marriage," Taehyung breathed out, suddenly smacked sober at the thought of his harsh friend being married.

“When—”

"It was a recent amendment, sir. Only a few months ago."

No one spoke for few minutes but rather stole a couple glances at the birthday boy for his reaction. Finally—

"Alright then. I need to speak with my grandmother. Thank you. Have a good day."

Yoongi briskly stood from his chair and stormed out of the office, leaving Jungkook and Taehyung to scramble after him to the lobby of the law firm.

"My grandma---no, let me speak to her," he commanded the staff on the phone and after a second, Yoongi started to pace. "Nana? Nana, why didn't you tell me I had to get married before I could collect the trust fund?"

"Oh my dear, I thought I told you." Nana's voice was soft, soothing and not at all bothered by the urgency from her grandson's voice. "I know I have. On your 24th birthday. Is there something wrong?"

"B-But..." Yoongi searched desperately for any recollection of his precious grandmother ever telling him of the new requirement but he found nothing. "No! No, nothing’s wrong… it’s just that---you didn’t tell me. " Panic seeped through his tone.

"Ah, Yoongi?" A cautious voice was barely noticed by the man and he spared Jungkook a look, allowing him to speak for just a moment. "You might want to calm---” however, a glare was sent the young man’s way and rose two hands in surrender. “No, never mind. Ignore me. You do you."

"Yoongi, I know I told you... ah, wait..." he redirected his glare from Jungkook to the floor once his grandmother began to speak again. "Ah, I did tell you but you were so drunk. Maybe that's why you didn't remember."

"Nana!" At this point, Yoongi sounded very much like a scolded child but he pressed onwards in his conversation. "How am I supposed to remember then?"

"At least I know for sure I told you," she sighed, still sounding as carefree as ever. "Now I spent very good money on my face to take off decades. Please don't put them back. Don’t tell me you don’t have at least a lovely lady? I would like great grandchildren."

Yoongi paled as he hurried for a reply. “Of course I do. I’m married! I just… I didn’t want to say for publicity reasons.”

“Then it’s not an issue? I’ll call the lawyer soon but I’d like to meet the lovely little lady, hm? Maybe in an hour or so for lunch? Perfect. Have a lovely day, dear.”

The call clicked as the line went dead and Yoongi just stared at his friends in shock.

"Someone get me a fake wife. And fast."

[writerfae]

Should I follow the German writer tradition and make the gay British lord in my story a red head?

[writerfae]

Listen I know I never talk about this wip anymore but Alex and Matthew from The Valet’s daughter are on my mind so much lately I love them

[athenainthemountains-blog]

Current WIP: What Souls are Made of (rough title, probably gonna change it)

Genre: historical fiction/romance

Description: death, angst, and a whole bunch of the Forbidden Love between an Earl's daughter and a valet/soldier, set before and during WW1.

Official Request to Hear About Your Projects!

Fellow writeblrs, I would love to hear more about your stuff!

Mutuals, followers or anyone that sees this post, please tell me more about your stuff!!

Even if we talk already, go ahead and tell me More!!!

I really wanna make more writeblrs friends, sooooooo, hit me up!

[writerfae]

I fixed and updated the The Valet’s Daughter masterpost so now is the best time to check it out if you haven’t already!

[writerfae]

oc picrew tag

I was tagged by @angelicminds, thank you so much!

I’m leaving an open tag for all the fans of oc picrews out there who might want to do this🙈

Rules: use this picrew to make yourself/ some of your OCs

Didn’t make myself with this but I did make the main character of each of my wips! Hope you enjoy ^^ (especially because I don’t talk much about most of them)

From left to right in order of how old their stories are:

Nalia (P:SW), Aiden (Knights of the Alder), Ben (Study of Lambs and Wolves), Will (Summer at Cotton Bay), Emma (The Valet’s Daughter) and Marie (Sonntagskind)

[writerfae]

Ah yes, my stories

Aiden and the no good, very bad week in the faerie realm

Victorian family drama the wip

gay in Australia

how to accidentally get adopted by a vampire

what if we become each other’s found family, but we’re all teen soldiers?

[writerfae]

❦ The Valet’s Daughter - a masterpost ❦

Young Alexander Brooks works at Goldhill Manor as the valet of Earl Montgomery's son Matthew. The two young men develope a friendship that soon leads to a love hidden away behind locked doors and closed curtains. Until one day their secret gets uncovered – and Alexander has to leave behind the estate and Matthew forever…

Years later, Emma Brooks has to leave behind the quiet life at her father’s farm to live with her aunt Countess Graham, who takes Emma with her to visit her friend Vivienne Montgomery over the summer. And so Emma finds herself back at the very place that her father had to leave so many years ago – Goldhill Manor.

Story

wip intro

characters

family trees

Shorts

last kiss

caught

dance

Extras

story memes part one

story memes part two

[writerfae]

One WIP, one song

Thanks for the tag @treesandwords :)

For each WIP, share a song you associate with it and tag as many people as you’d like.

I tag @my-cursed-prince @jessica-writes22 @ink-fireplace-coffee (if y’all didn’t do it already) and everyone else who might wants to do this ^^

The Knights of the Alder - Noble Blood by Tommee Profitt and Fleurie

The Valet’s Daughter - Dancing With Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift

A Study of Lambs and Wolves - Make Me Believe by The EverLove

A Summer at Cotton Bay - I Found The Answers In You by Loving Caliber and Mia Niles

Project: Secret Warriors - Game of Survival by Ruelle

[writerfae]

"Welcome to our home, Goldhill Manor. Though Golden Cage might be the more accurate name for it."

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑡'𝑠 𝐷𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑟 - 𝑎 𝑤𝑖𝑝 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

❧ 𝒢ℯ𝓃𝓇ℯ ➛ historical romance

❧ 𝒯𝒽ℯ𝓂ℯ𝓈 ➛ first love, forbidden romance, friendship, family drama, manipulation, (tea) parties

❧ 𝒯𝒶ℊ ➛ #wip: the valet's daughter

~۵~

❦ 𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ❦

Young Alexander Brooks works at Goldhill Manor as the valet of Earl Montgomery's son Matthew.

The two young men develope a friendship that soon leads to a love hidden away behind locked doors and closed curtains. Until one day their secret gets uncovered – and Alexander has to leave behind the estate and Matthew forever…

Years later, Emma Brooks has to leave behind the quiet life at her father’s farm to live with her aunt Countess Graham, who takes Emma with her to visit her friend Vivienne Montgomery over the summer.

And so Emma finds herself back at the very place that her father had to leave so many years ago – Goldhill Manor. There she meets Theodore, who slowly steals his way into Emma’s heart - and happens to be no one less than Matthew’s son.

❦ 𝒞𝒶𝓈𝓉 ❦

Emma Brooks

Theodore Montgomery

Alexander Brooks, Emma’s (foster)father

Countess Victoria Graham, Emma’s aunt

Matthew Montgomery, Theo’s father

Anna Montgomery, his wife

Countess Sophie Dalton, Theo’s aunt

George and Diana Dalton, her children

Earl Edward and Countess Vivienne Montgomery, Theo’s grandparents

~۵~

So this is it. A new wip though I swore not to start one till I at least finished draft one of my current project.

Tagging my general tag list cause maybe you’ll be interested :)

@deadlycupid @writing-is-a-martial-art @writingamongther0ses @blueinkblot @wildswrites @abiandwriting @theroyalcoven @myhusbandsasemni @authortango @charleeyy @formulatingfiction @shiishki @gr3y-heron @bloodlessheirbyjacques @imstillherebitch

(and @sleepy-night-child cause we talked about this recently 🙈)