will (still) writes fic

hey! my name is Will/Adrien and i write fic. this blog is a place to archive my work which is usually posted on my main @alounuitte. my ao3 handle is LovelyLessie.

[alounuitte]

Autumn comes to the valley with a chill in the air, carried by the wind that rolls down off the mountains, and suddenly the harvest season is upon them.

the first chapter of my novel clockwork castle is now available to patrons on my patreon! clockwork castle is a queer fantasy novel that retells several fairy tales, centered on two sisters and the choices they make to protect their family and each other.

for $5 a month, you can get early access to each weekly chapter as soon as it's posted! for those who can't subscribe, chapters will be posted a week later on ao3, but if you still want to support me you can tip me on ko-fi!

[alounuitte]

summer in the slums

Zack visits Aerith on a hot summer day to help her sell flowers at the park. However, their day together is cut short when Aerith falls ill.

(Zack/Aerith, 3,473 words, complete.)

——

Summer in the slums may be safe from the sun and the haze that forms where it filters through the layer of steam the reactors put off, but it’s still almost unbearable, the air thick and heavy from the heat trapped under the plate with no way to escape. It’s hard to even breathe, and he’s barely been down there ten minutes before Zack is sweating through his uniform and wishing he’d come down in the evening instead, during actual rest hours when he wouldn’t have to wear it. Sure, he’d be bored now, with nothing to do during his limited free time besides hide in the cool of his apartment and play games, but boredom might be preferable to this stuffy, sweltering heat. 

Keep reading

[willwritesfic]

also on ao3!

[willwritesfic]

hey! due to tumblr being rude about showing my fic in tags, i’m going to be consolidating this blog with my new primary @alounuitte! this will stay up as an archival and an easy way to see only fic (since that blog will also be personal/fandom/etc) but i may be reposting or shuffling around some works that are posted here.

[willwritesfic]

@caffeinatedarrows​ asked: pentahawke, “I’d kill for a coffee...literally”

“I’d kill for a coffee,” Marian says, burying her face in her hands. “Literally.”

“You can have coffee when you’ve finished studying,” Cassandra says coolly. “Get back to work.”

She groans and looks back to her textbook. “I’ve been studying for hours. I’m about to fall asleep in my notes, Cass.”

Cassandra frowns at her, looking stern, but she can’t keep it up; she sighs and shakes her head as she says, “Fine - if you must have a coffee, I’ll get you one, but you had best keep studying while I go.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Marian tells her, beaming, and turns to the next page in her notes as her girlfriend gets up to get her a drink.

read more on ao3 | support my writing on ko-fi!

[willwritesfic]

originally requested by @sleepyspoonie​: balgruuf/irileth, prompt: worry

“Irileth,” he calls out as she moves toward the palace doors, and she stops, turning to face him.

He’s standing on the stairs to the second floor, the shadows on his face thrown into sharp relief by the torchlight, and even from across the hall she can clearly see the worry written into his furrowed brow and the downturned corners of his mouth.

“Don’t go with them,” he says. “Not this time.”

“My Jarl,” she says, surprised.

He walks with heavy footsteps down the last few stairs to stand by the brazier, only a few steps above her. “Legate Rikke will be sufficient to lead our men,” he says. “Not, of course, because I have more faith in her than I have in you. But -”

She swallows hard as he hesitates, closing his eyes and bowing his head.

“If they should breach our walls,” he says, “we will be here, as the last line of defense for my city. But until that time -”

He steps down to stand but one step higher than she is, and when their eyes meet she finds fear there. She reaches out to rest her hand on his arm.

“It is my wish that you would stay by my side instead,” he says. “To protect the palace.”

“Of course, my Jarl,” she says, and cups the side of his face in her other hand as she nods. “Of course.”

[willwritesfic]

originally requested by anon (posted from my old personal): galmar/ulfric, great war era

The first few days Ulfric does very little but sleep, and Galmar doesn’t sleep for so much as a moment.

It isn’t that he isn’t relieved, of course. But after nearly three years he’d begun to come to terms with losing Ulfric, with the knowledge that he was likely dead by now, and to have him suddenly return - well, he’d moved on at some point from worry to grief. Now fear has returned, and he’s terrified by the fact that Ulfric might have survived this long only to die now.

So Galmar sits resolutely awake at his bedside in the healer’s tent whenever he’s at camp, keeping a silent vigil. Some part of him knows, of course, that he can’t make the difference now, that the only hands who will help are those of the healers and the divines. But it’s some small comfort, the idea that he can guard Ulfric from death itself should it come to claim him.

-

When Ulfric does wake by himself, it’s gasping and whimpering, jolted out of sleep by nightmares that make him scream and writhe beneath the bedsheets. “Oh, gods,” he cries out when he jerks upright sometime the second night. “Help me, please, Divines, Talos -”

He chokes off with a whimpering sound and Galmar leans over to catch his hands, finds his palms drenched in cold sweat. “Hush,” he says. “Ulfric. Ulfric, it’s me, I’m here, you’re safe.”

“Galmar,” Ulfric whispers, his voice breaking, and curls his fingers around Galmar’s. “It’s you. Thank the gods, it’s you.”

“Hush,” Galmar says, moving closer, so he can put an arm around Ulfric’s shaking shoulders and stroke back his damp hair. “You’re alright. I’m here. You’re safe.”

[willwritesfic]

@borderlineanders​ asked: Isabela/Merrill, “deep breaths”

“Deep breaths, kitten,” Isabela says, resting a hand on her shoulder and giving her a wry smile. “That’s it, now you can stand up.”

Merrill closes her eyes and lets go of the railing, swaying a little as she straightens. “Oh!” she squeaks, reaching for Bela’s arm. “I’m going to fall.”

“You’re not going to fall,” Bela tells her, steadying her before stepping away. “Don’t fight it, just breathe and shift your balance, you see?”

Slowly she opens her eyes, and looks out at the horizon where the ocean is nothing but blue until the end of the world. She gasps softly, rocking on her toes with the swaying of the ship’s deck and finding the once she has the rhythm of it, it’s as natural as breathing. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers, and turns to see Isabela leaning against the railing, grinning at her.

“Nothing like a cool breeze and the smell of the sea to make you feel alive,” Bela agrees, and takes her hand.

see more on my ao3 | support my writing on ko-fi!

[willwritesfic]

hey! been stuck on writing for a bit, so figured i’d open up unpaid prompts for the afternoon, send me a sentence or a couple words and a character/pairing you’d like to see and i’ll see if i can do a short fic on it. 

prompts are up to my discretion of course but to save people some time, i won’t write inc*st of any kind or minors shipped with adults, and i’m unlikely to write ships with an age gap of more than 2-3 years so don’t bother requesting any of that

[pitaparka]

Flower meanings I wanted to get out there. It seemed pretty cool to me but was a lot of work as I couldn’t copy and past my research from websites. Use it for a florist AU or somethin’ I dunno have fun Alstroemeria - Wealth, prosperity, fortune, friendship

Amaryllis - Splendid beauty, worth beyond beauty


Anemone - Fading hope, forsaken, anticipation


Anthurium - Hospitality, happiness, abundance


Aster - Patience, a love of variety, elegance, daintiness


Bird of Paradise - Joyfulness, magnificence, wonderful anticipation


Bouvardia Double - Enthusiasm, zest for life


Calla Lily - Magnificence, beauty, purity, innocence


Carnation - Pride, beauty


Red Carnation - Love, pride, admiration


Pink Carnation - Love of a woman or a mother


Purple Carnation - Capriciousness


Yellow Carnation - Disdain, rejection, disappointment


White Carnation - Innocence, pure love


Striped Carnation - Refusal


Chrysanthemum - Fidelity, optimism, joy, long life


Red Chrysanthemum - Love


White Chrysanthemum - Truth, loyal love


Yellow Chrysanthemum - Slighted love


Daffodil - regard, chivalry, rebirth, new beginnings, eternal life, unrequited love


Daffodil (Single) - Foretells a misfortune


Daffodil (Bunch) - Joy, happiness


Daisy - Innocence, purity, loyal love, “I will never tell.”


Gerbera Daisy- Cheerfulness


Delphinium - Big hearted, fun, lightness, levity, ardent attachment


Freesia - Innocence, thoughtfulness


Gardenia - Purity, sweetness, secret love, joy, conveys loneliness from the giver


Gerbera - Cheerfulness

Gladiolus - Strength of character, remembrance


Lavender Heather - Admiration, solitude, beauty


White Heather - Protection, wishes will come true


Hyacinth - Playfulness, sporty attitude, extreme rashness, constancy


Blue Hyacinth - Constancy


Purple Hyacinth - Sorrow


Red/Pink Hyacinth - Play


White Hyacinth - Loveliness


Yellow Hyacinth - Jealousy


Hydrangea - Heartfelt emotions, gratitude for being understood, frigidity, heartlessness


Iris - Eloquence


Purple Iris - Wisdom, compliments


Blue Iris - Faith, hope


Yellow Iris - Passion


White Iris - Purity


Larkspur - Levity, lightness, fickleness, haughtiness


Lilac - Youthful innocence, confidence


White Lilac - Humility, Innocence


Field Lilac - Charity


Purple Lilac - First love


Lily - Purity, refined beauty


White Lily - Modesty, virginity


Orange Lily - Passion


Yellow Lily - Gaiety


Lily of the Valley - Sweetness, purity of heart


Easter Lily - Virgin Mary


Orchid - Exotic beauty, refinement, thoughtfulness, mature charm, proud and glorious femininity


Peony - Bashfulness, compassion, indignation, shame, happy life, happy marriage, good health, prosperity


King Protea - Change, transformation, daring, resourcefulness, diversity, courage


Queen Anne - Haven, sanctuary, complexity, delicateness


Ranunculus - Radiant charm, attractiveness

Snapdragon - Graciousness, strenght, deception, presumption

Statice - Remembrance, sympathy, success 
Stock - Lasting beauty, happy life, bonds of affection, promptness 
Sunflower - Pure thoughts, adoration, dedication, dedicated love, haughtiness 
Sweet Pea - Delicate pleasure, bliss, departure after having a good time 
Tulip - Declaration of love, fame, perfect love

Rose - Love

Red Rose - Love, longing, desire, respect, admiration, devotion

Deep Red Rose - Regret, sorrow

White Rose - Purity, chastity, innocence, new beginnings, sympathy, humility, spirituality

Yellow Rose - Exuberance, joy, warmth, welcome, friendship, caring, purely platonic emotions

Pink Rose - Gentleness, admiration, joy, gratitude, appreciation, elegance, grace

Orange Rose - Passion, energy, desire, pride, fervor, fascination

Lavender Rose - Enchantment, love at first sight, majesty, splendor, fascination, adoration

Blue Rose - Elusive, unattainable, mysterious, desire, I can’t have you but I can’t stop thinking about you

Green Rose - Harmony, opulence, fertility, best wishes for a prosperous new life or wishes for recovery of good health

Black Rose - Death, farewell, elusive

Mixed Roses - Mixed feelings, I don’t know my feelings yet but I care about you enough to send roses

Moss Rosebud - Confession of love

Thorn-less Rose - Love at first sight, early attachment

Leaf Rose - You may hope

Hibiscus Rose - Delicate beauty

Burgundy Rose - Unconscious beauty

Christmas Rose - Relieve my anxiety

Dog Rose - Pleasure and pain

Damask Rose - Freshness, Persian ambassador of Love

Garden Rose - I am from Mars

Tea Rose - I will remember always

Rose of Sharon - Consumed by love

Carmine Rose - Deceitful desire

Cardinal Red Rose - Sublime desire

Amaranth Red Rose - Long standing desire

Wild Rose - Simplicity

Musk Rose - Capricious beauty 
Rosa Mundi - Variety 
Single Red Rose - “I love you” 
A Single White Rose - “My feelings are pure” 
A Single Yellow Rose - “You bring joy to my life” “Let’s be friends” 
A Single Pink Rose - “I like you” 
A Single Orange Rose - “I am proud of you” 
A Single Peach Rose - “Thank you” “I sympathise with you” 
A Single Lavender Rose - “I am enchanted by you” 
A Single Blue Rose - “You seem like an unattainable dream” 
A Crown Of Roses - Reward of virtue 
A Bouquet Of Roses - Gratitude 
A Rose In A Tuft Of Grass - There is everything to be gained by good company 
One Red Rose - “I love you” “You are the one for me” 
Two Red Roses - “Let us be together” 
Three Red Roses - “You and me and our love for company” 
Five Red Roses - “I am halfway in love with you” 
Twelve Red Roses - “Be mine” 
Twenty Five Red Roses - “Congratulations” 
Fifty Red Roses - “My love for you is limitless”

[heir-to-the-diamond-throne]

64 Sensory Prompts

Watching a meteor shower

Digging your fingers into fresh dirt

Snow being shoved down the back of your coat

Napping in sunshine

Trying to walk on ice

Walking through the woods

Raindrops on eyelashes

The way cold glass fogs when you press your hand against it

A perfectly brewed cup of tea

The taste of Vodka at the back of your throat

Blood at the corner of your mouth

Cloying sweetness on the back of your tongue

The first glass of fresh water

Stale breath when you wake up

The taste of salt on the tip of your tongue

The taste of almonds

Your bed after travelling

Red wine stained lips

Satin in candlelight

Reflections in glass

Thigh-high stockings and garter belts

Neon lights at 1.30am

Darting shadows in the corner of your eye

Dust floating in golden sunlight

The smell of ozone during a storm

The smell of Cologne/Perfume on warm skin

The musty smell of an abandoned home

The bitter tang of acetone

The smell of burning wood

The smell of freshly baked bread

The cold, sharp smell of the first frost

The smell of blood

The feel of fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade

The feel of fingers brushing together by accident

Blowing a raspberry against someone’s skin

Being so close that you can feel your lips brush when you whisper 

The tender ache when you press against bruises

A person’s weight as they lie on top of you

Stepping in something squishy

Gritty eyes when you stare into fire too long

A door closing

A ticking wristwatch

Your favourite song on repeat for the hundredth time

Distant traffic

The creak of leather

The waver in a person’s voice when they’re stressed

Singing badly as loud as you can

A quiet sigh as they turn away

Trying to pull on clothes with damp skin

The empty space that can’t be breached between you in bed

The jittery, sick feeling when you can’t do anything

Exhausted numbness after crying

The relief of fatalistic recklessness

The moment when reality starts to make sense again

Finding old photographs you’d forgotten about

Someone accepting the bad parts of you without judging

Brown iodine stains on skin

Rust red dirt

Orange sunsets

Yellow halogen lights

Green wine bottles

Fingertips smudged in blue ink

Indigo skies just before dawn

Violet bruised eyes

Feel free to use in writing and art - I’ll be tracking the tag ‘sensory prompts’ if you want to share :)

[katiewrites-deactivated20241107]

Drabble Challenge!

Repost this. Followers/Readers send numbers to your Ask. You write a fic/drabble using that line in your piece. Have fun! Expect a ton of requests!! 

“That’s starting to get annoying”

“Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

“You can’t just sit there all day.”

“I’m too sober for this.”

“I’m not here to make friends.”

“I need a place to stay.”

“Well, that’s tragic.”

“You’re seriously like a man-child.”

“You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!”

“The ladies love a guy who’s good with kids.”

“Dear Diary, …”

“She’s hiding behind the sofa.”

“I lost our baby.”

“They’re so cute when they’re asleep.”

“I’d kill for a coffee…literally.”

“You’re getting crumbs all over my bed.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“What’s the matter, sweetie?”

“You’re Satan.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuse. You can’t just give me wet-willies.”

“I’m bulletproof…but please, don’t shoot me.”

“Did you just hiss at me?”

“Do you really need all that candy?”

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

“I swear, I’m not crazy!!!”

“The diamond in your engagement ring is fake.”

“No. Regrets.”

“How drunk was I?”

“How is my wife more badass than me?”

“Be you. No one else can.”

“I haven’t slept in ages.”

“I locked the keys in the car.”

“Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?”

“You work for me. You are my slave.”

“Take your medicine.”

“They’re monsters.”

“Welcome to fatherhood.”

“Why can’t you appreciate my sense of humor?”

“It’s your turn to make dinner.”

“The kids, they ambushed me.”

“Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass!!!”

“Stop being so cute.”

“I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“You need to see a doctor.”

“You’re getting a vasectomy. That’s final.”

“I was a joke, baby. I swear.”

“Dogs don’t wear clothes!”

“I didn’t think you could get any less romantic…”

“Safety first. What are you? FIVE?”

“This is girl talk, so leave.”

“Where am I going? Crazy. Wanna come?”

“There’s a herd of them!”

“Do you think I’m scared of a woman?”

“They’re not your kids, back the f*ck off.”

“You’re a nerd.”

“I’m late.”

“Just get home as soon as possible, okay?!”

“You smell like a wet dog.”

“I could punch you right now.”

“Are you going to talk to me?”

“Welcome back. Now fucking help me.”

“If you can’t sleep…we could have sex?”

“Flea markets don’t carry fleas, you know?”

“Here, take my blanket.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

“How could I ever forget about you?”

“You’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

“Run for it!”

“We need to talk.”

“Not everyone is out to get you. Stop thinking that. It’s annoying.”

“I want a pet.”

“Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now.”

“I’m not wearing a dress.”

“I’m not wearing a tie.”

“Quit beating me up!”

“Please put your penis away.”

“It’s a Texas thing.”

“Don’t argue. Just do it.”

“I hope I’m never stuck with you on a deserted island.”

“Does he know about the baby?”

“Hold still.”

“I just ironed these pants!”

“Enough with the sass!”

“Show me what’s behind your back.”

“I’m not going to be sympathetic until you go to a doctor.”

“Fine, don’t say anything and make me worry.”

“Stay awake.”

“STOP INTERRUPTING ME!”

“You’re not interested, are you?”

“I’m not buying ikea furniture again.”

“Tell me you need me.”

“Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you.”

“I’m telling you. I’m haunted.”

“I had a bad dream again.”

“Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.”

“It’s Christmas, don’t be mad at me.”

“You’re not going to starve yourself on Thanksgiving.”

“The store ran out of Easter eggs.”

“How could you forget your son’s birthday?”

“You can only suffer through my whining for so long until you get up and make me a sandwich.”

Visit @prompt-bank for more prompts!!

[willwritesfic]

hey! i am not good at fic commissions so i’m not accepting any until i finish the ones i have, however - i’m currently without a job and my new one doesn’t start until the 23rd, so if you like my writing, consider supporting me on ko-fi! 

[willwritesfic]

oh, no please, not love

(or, Like I Love You)

Best friends should tell each other everything, which is why Sansa Stark is upset - and maybe a little jealous - when she finds out Margaery Tyrell has a boyfriend. Because they're best friends, that's all. It's not so strange to envy her best friend's boyfriend, is it?

Chapter 2

[read chapter 1][read on ao3]

“Sansa,” her father says over dinner, “are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” she says, glancing up from her plate.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says, giving her a concerned look.

“Sansa’s got a crush,” Arya says in a sing-song voice.

She feels her cheeks heat up. “I do not!” She says, glowering at her sister. “You’re making up stories!”

“I’m not,” Arya says, sticking out her tongue. “Jon told me. He said you’ve got a crush on Renly Baratheon.”

“Renly Baratheon?” Father echoes, giving Arya a sideways look.

“That’s not true!” Sansa protests, tears springing to her eyes. “I’ve never even met Renly Baratheon!”

“Jon said you were swooning over him,” Arya taunts. “When he came to the diner with Margaery Tyrell.”

“Jon’s making up stories too,” Sansa says, furious. “Father, make them both stop! They love to make up stories about me!”

“Arya, don’t spread rumors about your sister,” Father says sternly. “And I’ll talk to Jon about this story, as well.”

“It’s not a story,” Arya says. “Robb said so, too! Only he didn’t say she was swooning.”

“Arya!” Sansa screams, kicking her under the table. “Stop being horrid!”

“Ouch!” Arya yelps. “That hurt!” At the edge of the door, Nymeria perks up her ears, baring her teeth.

“Girls, enough,” Mother says.

“She kicked me,” Arya says. “I was only saying what Jon and Robb said -”

“I hate Jon!” Sansa shouts. “And Robb too for telling stories about me! I hate them both! I hate you!”

“It’s not a story!” Arya yells. “And you didn’t have to kick me!”

Sansa bursts into tears, her cheeks flushed with shame and embarrassment. “I’m going upstairs,” she says. “Lady, come.”

Before her father or mother can stop her, she runs out of the room and upstairs, Lady at her heels. She slams the door to her bedroom and collapses on her bed, weeping, burying her face in Lady’s fur.

“It’s not fair,” she tells Lady miserably. “Arya’s always like this. And Jon is just as bad! They’re always teasing me, and making up things to embarrass me, and no one ever listens!”

Lady whines softly and licks the tears off her cheeks. She sniffles, rubbing at her eyes with one hand and scratching Lady under the chin. She wants nothing more than to call Margaery and pour out all her sorrows to someone who cares about them, but she can’t talk to Margaery about any of this. The thought makes her cry even harder.

“Stupid Sansa,” she mumbles, hugging Lady tighter. It’s silly to be so upset, she’s being silly, and selfish, and childish, but the tears won’t stop falling anyways.

Someone knocks on the door. “Sansa, dear,” her mother calls from the hall.

“Go away,” she shouts. “I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

“Sansa,” Mother says again, more sternly. “May I please come in?”

She wraps her arms around Lady’s neck, glowering at the door. “Why?” she asks. “What do you want?”

“I just want to make sure you’re alright,” her mother says, her voice softening.

She considers this, biting her lip and trying to blink tears from her eyes. “Fine,” she says reluctantly, and the door opens.

Mother closes it quietly behind her and crosses the room to sit down at the edge of the bed. “Come here,” she says, forgetting even to scold Sansa about letting Lady onto the furniture. Sansa slowly releases Lady and moves over to sit at her mother’s side.

“Your father and I have been worried sick,” Mother says, stroking her hair. “You haven’t been yourself the past few days, we want to know what’s wrong so we can help.”

Sansa sniffles and leans closer. “It’s Margaery,” she confesses. “She’s barely spoken to me since school started, and I haven’t seen her in ages, and I miss her! When I saw her come into the diner with that boy I couldn’t bear it, and now I can hardly think of anything else!”

“Oh, Sansa,” her mother says, hugging her. “Have you spoken to her?”

She shakes her head, scrubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I don’t want to bother her,” she says, her voice choked. “It’s stupid, and mean, and - and - “

She sobs and buries her face in her mother’s shoulder. “Shh, shh,” Mother whispers, rocking her gently. “It’s alright.”

“I don’t know wh-why I’m so upset,” she manages. “I didn’t even know how much I missed her until I saw them together.”

“Talk to her,” her mother urges her gently. “Invite her over for supper. You’ll feel better getting to see her again.”

“What if she doesn’t want to come?” Sansa says in a small voice.

“Then she doesn’t deserve your friendship,” Mother says firmly. “Why not suggest Friday? Neither of you will have school to worry about in the morning.”

She nods meekly, wiping her eyes. “Alright,” she mumbles. “I’ll ask her.”

[willwritesfic]

The Hand that Feeds You

The Lannister siblings go out for drinks to celebrate recent events. Well, mostly to celebrate.

Chapter 2/?

[first][read on ao3]

(six months earlier.)

“Cersei,” Jaime says, “are you happy?”

She looks up from her nails, blinking at him. “I’m sorry?”

“Working for Father,” he clarifies. “Does it make you happy?”

He’s lying on his back with his feet propped up on the arm of the couch, one arm draped across his chest and the other hanging off on the floor, while Cersei sits at the coffee table, painting her nails. The townhouse is all but theirs on the weekends, when Father is out of town at the estate, and both of them use the opportunity, more than anything, to enjoy the luxury of laziness they’re rarely afforded while he’s here.

“Does it make me happy,” Cersei repeats in a flat voice, still staring at him. “That’s a stupid question.”

He frowns at her, affronted. “Well,” he starts to say.

“Of course it does,” she continues before he can get farther. “Why shouldn’t it? I’m twenty-two and already one of the most powerful women in the city, on the executive board of the largest corporation in New York, finishing my bachelor’s degree debt-free this summer and making more money than eighty percent of the country’s population. In three years, perhaps less if I work hard enough, I’ll be CEO at Lionsgate and board director at Lanniscorp, answering only to Father. What’s not to be happy about?”

“Nothing,” he says, turning his head to look up at the ceiling.

“Why do you ask?” she adds; he can hear the way she’s narrowing her eyes. “Did Father put you up to this?”

“What?” he asks. “No, I was just wondering.”

“Why?” she presses, leaning on the coffee table. “Why the sudden concern for my happiness?”

He looks back at her, spreading his hands helplessly, “You’re my sister,” he says. “Of course I’m concerned that you’re happy.”

She frowns at him, apparently confused by this.

“Forget it,” he sighs, and goes back to staring at the ceiling. “It was a stupid question anyways.”

“Why are you acting weird?” she asks. “Eleven on a Saturday is a bit early for you to be getting philosophical on me.”

He laughs hollowly, shaking his head. “Because I’ve got a paper to finish and don’t want to think about it?”

“Idiot,” she says, without much bite. “That economics report? For god’s sake. If it’s making you so gloomy, I’ll write the damn thing for you.”

“And Father will find out and skin us both alive,” he replies. “Besides, I expect the professor has seen enough of my reports to recognize one I didn’t write.”

“I’ll be sure to make mistakes, then,” she says lightly, and he snorts. For a moment she’s quiet, and then says, slowly, “Are you happy?”

“I’m fine,” he says, waving a hand.

“I didn’t ask if you were fine,” she says sternly.

He sighs, studying the pattern of the ceiling tiles. “No,” he says finally, very quietly. “Not really.”

He can’t bring himself to look at her. “Why not?” she asks, her voice softening.

“I don’t know,” he says, closing his eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyways, does it? Father would disown me if I left the company.”

“Don’t be melodramatic,” she says. “He’d be angry, but he wouldn’t disown you. He likes you too much. And anyways, he hasn’t disowned Tyrion.”

“He likes that I do what I’m told,” he corrects her. “If I don’t, it’s always - “

“Lannisters don’t act like fools,” she says with him, a sneer on her face that mimics Father’s before she smirks. “So don’t do something foolish, Jaime.”

He laughs at that. “What would I do, anyways. I’m not clever like you are. Father’s favor is probably the best opportunity I have.”

She considers that for a moment, her lips pursed. “No,” she agrees, “you’re not especially clever. But you are proud, and stubborn as any Lannister’s ever been. Put your mind to something and you’re sure to see it done one way or another - foolish or not.”

“I suppose I do have tenacity as a virtue,” he sighs. “A surfeit of tenacity, and a tremendous lack of common sense.”

“Fortunately, there are plenty of careers which don’t require common sense,” she says. “And you’ll be miles better at something you enjoy than you are with business and management anyways. The question is only what it would be.”

He shrugs. “I was always better at athletics than at my studies,” he says. “but even the ones I’m good at would certainly count as foolish to make a career of. Besides, I rather like my face as it is, I’d rather not see it mangled.”

She laughs, lacing her fingers carefully to avoid smudging her nails. “And head trauma won’t make you any brighter,” she adds.

He frowns, looking up at the ceiling and running his fingers through his hair. “I’m not particularly good at much else. I suppose I’ve got a certain charm, but that’s not good for anything but acting and politics. I’m not much for theater, and I’d sooner hang myself than go into government.” She laughs again. “I’m serious,” he adds. “Have you met Robert Baratheon? There’s a man with the wrong ambitions.”

“Robert Baratheon doesn’t have the spine for his job,” she says. “You’ve at least got that.”

“And I will break it myself before having it crushed by politics,” he says. “No one ever did any good for anyone sitting in office.”

She snorts. “If it’s good you want to do, you ought to go into public service.”

“Father would hate that, wouldn’t he?” Jaime says, and sighs. “But I’ll do more good anywhere that isn’t Lanniscorp.”

“Ideals aren’t a basis for a career,” she replies. “They’ll be your downfall as surely as Robert Baratheon’s.”

“Mm,” he agrees. “Perhaps it’s principle that makes me an idiot, after all.”

“Incaution and impulsiveness make you an idiot,” she says. “Principle just makes you vulnerable.”

“Still,” he says, and sighs, closing his eyes. “Father would certainly have me choke it out, wouldn’t he?”

“We’re not talking about what Father wants,” she reminds him. “For once in your life, you’re thinking too much like a Lannister.”

He laughs without much conviction. “Alright. So if I do adhere to principle - if I want to do something that does even half an ounce of good for someone other than myself - what is there?”

“Politics is useless and would kill your principle as surely as Father will,” she says. “Education is noble, but not respectable, and you don’t have the temperament for it. Administration, city and state work, those all need patience you don’t have.” She taps her nails on the table, thinking. “Sciences, medicine? There’s good to be done there.”

“I’d never make it in either,” he says. “You might do it, if you wanted, but not me.”

“I don’t have the character,” she says dryly. “I only get along with people when they’re doing something for me.”

That’s certainly true, he thinks, and almost smiles. “No,” he agrees, “but you’re sharp enough, is what I meant. God knows I’d never get into medical school - and the same is true for sciences, I’d never make it into a degree program.”

“Not with that attitude,” she scoffs. “You’re nearly finished your business degree. Why not a second?”

“Because I scrape through my science classes by the skin of my teeth,” he says. “I’d need to - to memorize things, Cersei, I’m terrible at that.”

“You’re not,” she says. “You know every major brand owned by Lanniscorp, and all the subsidiaries, and which products belong to which division.”

“Only because Father drilled it into my head,” he argues.

“So?” she says. “Drill it into your own head, then. What the hell else is tenacity good for?”

He sits up, swinging his legs off the couch to look at her. She’s gone back to painting her nails, a deep iridescent green that flashes as bright as her eyes in the light. “You’re serious about this,” he says, incredulous. “You’re actually taking this seriously.”

“You’re unhappy,” she says without looking up. “And I take your happiness as seriously as you take mine. We share more than blood, Jaime.”

He sighs. “I’d need to pass tests,” he says. “How would I ever pass the tests to get into medical school?”

“There’s a preparation program,” she says. “Apply for it now. There’s a waiting list, I’m sure, but perhaps you could start in the fall if you hurry.” She spreads her fingers to examine her nails. “You’ll want to start as soon as you can, since I’m sure there are classes you’ll need to retake. Average marks don’t get you into graduate programs.”

He shakes his head slowly, frowning. “I suppose I could consider it,” he says slowly.

“Talk to your advisors,” she says. “And for God’s sake, go to the resource center for help with your papers. I’ll write an econ report for you, but I’m not helping you with medical research write-ups.”

[willwritesfic]

tumblr is screwing with links again so chapter 2 of thtfy will be up properly when I get home from work!

[willwritesfic]

oh, no please, not love

(or, Like I Love You.) 

Best friends should tell each other everything, which is why Sansa Stark is upset - and maybe a little jealous - when she finds out Margaery Tyrell has a boyfriend. Because they’re best friends, that’s all. It’s not so strange to envy her best friend’s boyfriend, is it?

(chapter 1.)

[read on ao3]

Sansa sees the door open over Jon’s shoulder and feels her heart stumble and skip a beat, though she’s not sure why, as Margaery Tyrell walks in with a handsome young man on her arm.

She doesn’t realize she’s staring until Jon starts laughing, and Robb says lightly, “You alright, Sansa?”

“What?” she says, shaking herself. “I’m - I’m fine.” She gives her brothers her most charming smile, but she can’t help glancing past them again, at Margaery and the man she’s with. She’s never seen him before - a dark-haired, well-dressed youth perhaps a few years older than Jon and Robb. She feels her cheeks flush a little and tears her eyes away, busying herself with her plate.

“What are you looking at?” Jon teases, leaning across the table. “Have you got your eyes on Margaery’s new boyfriend?”

“No!” she says quickly. “I - I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”

She’s been friends with Margaery since her freshman year, and since then they’ve told each other everything - Margaery has listened tenderly to her every heartache and sorrow, from boys to family fights to failed tests, and in turn she’s heard every worry Margaery has had about college applications, moving out of her father’s house, interviews and auditions, life in the city - they’ve had no secrets from each other for nearly three years, and yet, she didn’t know Margaery had a boyfriend.

That’s what it is, she thinks, blinking away the threat of tears that stings in her eyes. It’s only that Margaery didn’t tell her that’s made her chest get suddenly so tight and her heart so heavy.

Of course it’s different now that Margery is in college, she thinks, pushing her food around her plate with her fork. She’s only a high schooler, and a dull one at that, after all, and surely Margaery has made much more interesting friends in college. It only makes sense that she doesn’t have time now for a stupid sixteen year old like Sansa.

Still, it hurts, deep down in her chest, and she pushes her plate away, suddenly no longer hungry.

[willwritesfic]

The Hand that Feeds You

The Lannister siblings go out for drinks to celebrate recent events. (Well, mostly to celebrate.)

chapter 1/?

[view on AO3]

“Of all of us,” Tyrion says, “which do you think is the biggest disappointment?”

He sets his glass down with a bang and tips up his chin to gaze across the table, smirking a little as he folds his hands in front of him.

“The freak?” he continues, pressing the tips of his fingers to his lips. “The girl?” He casts a look towards Cersei, arching an eyebrow. She rolls her eyes. “Or the traitor?”

He cocks his head, turning his gaze on Jaime, who half-smiles and raises his glass. “Kind of you to welcome me to the ranks,” he says dryly, and takes a gulp of his beer. “I was starting to get lonely.”

“Oh, please,” Cersei mutters darkly, and sips her drink. “You’ll always be the golden boy of the family.”

“Not if I waste our father’s hard-earned money on my college tuition,” Jaime replies. “Do you know that’s what he said to me when I told him I was accepted to the program?” He takes another drink and sets his cup down. “‘I suppose that means I’ll spend the next ten years of my life pouring thousands into your education,’ he told me.”

“Well, then I suppose my congratulations doesn’t seem quite so belated,” Tyrion replies.

“Thanks,” Jaime says. “You’re the first who’s told me.” He glances sideways at Cersei and adds, “Which seems a little strange, if I’m honest.”

“Of course I’m glad you got into your program,” she says. “But forgive me if I don’t take part in your pity party over losing Father’s approval.”

“It’s not a pity party,” Jaime argues, frowning. “We’re celebrating. I bought you both drinks.”

“Well, I’ll drink to that,” Tyrion says, raising his glass. “To Jaime, for getting us all drunk.”

“Cheers,” Cersei says, cracking a smile, and they all drink.

“I do think,” Jaime says, “I must be the only man in the world who ever disappointed his father by going into medicine.”

“Surely not the only one,” Tyrion says. “There must be some other men out there whose fathers had other hopes for them.”

“I could’ve done anything I wanted,” Cersei muses. “He wouldn’t have cared as long as it was respectable. But you - ” She points at Jaime with one manicured finger. “God forbid you should go anywhere his footsteps don’t lead you.”

“Mm,” Jaime agrees, and finishes his beer.

“That’s our father for you, though, isn’t it?” Tyrion says. “It’s a highly respected career - and a well paying one. But it’s not part of his empire, and that’s all that matters.”

“Maybe he’ll go into pharmaceuticals next,” Jaime replies. “Or - I don’t know - insurance, perhaps.”

Tyrion laughs at that, shaking his head. “That would be giving you ground.”

“He’d give Jaime all the ground he has if it was on his terms,” Cersei says, swirling her drink in her glass. “But you can’t take up the family business if you’re a doctor, I suppose.”

“Not a doctor of medicine, anyways,” Jaime agrees, and gets to his feet. “I’m getting another drink.”

“Eight minutes,” Tyrion murmurs, smirking a little. “That would be, what - seven pints in an hour if he keeps that up?”

“You’re the drunkard,” Cersei says, “not Jaime.”

“Oh, yes,” Tyrion agrees. “That’s why I’m counting.”

“Don’t tell me you’re betting,” Jaime says as he sits back down.

Tyrion scoffs. “Who would I make that bet with? Her?”

“Father, maybe,” Jaime replies, “if he were a betting man.”

“If Father was a betting man,” Cersei says, “he’d put his money on you coming to your senses.”

“Isn’t he already?” Tyrion asks. “Certainly he’s gambling the future of the company on it at the moment.”

“There’s a taste of irony,” Cersei says with a smirk, and takes a sip of her drink. “Of all the things to risk on a gamble, for it to be his legacy.”

Jaime raises his glass. “A toast,” he says, “to the death of Father’s legacy.”

Tyrion barks a laugh and knocks their glasses together. “Cheers,” he says, and gulps down the last of his drink.

Cersei doesn’t toast; she stares into her glass, brow creased and eyes narrowed in thought. “Not that you’re the only one who can carry the company on,” she murmurs. “And the family - he’s see that himself if he wasn’t so nearsighted in his pride.”

She tips back her glass and finishes her drink as well, setting the glass down delicately.

“Next round’s on me,” Tyrion says, and waves over the waitress. “Another of your darkest for my brother and myself, if you would,” he says, pulling out his card. He glances at Cersei and adds, with a wry smile, “And perhaps a lemon drop for my dear sister.”

Cersei sneers at him, sticking her tongue out across the table, which only makes him grin more broadly.

“Leave it open,” he adds as the waitress takes his card. “I’m sure all of us will be buying more drinks before the night is out.”

For a moment it’s quiet; Jaime sips his drink, still only half empty, and Cersei frowns hard at her empty glass.

“Tell me,” she says after a moment, and lifts her head. “Which of you has any desire to father children?”

Tyrion gestures at himself, raising an eyebrow. Jaime shrugs and shakes his head.

“As I thought,” she says, and closes her eyes, smiling thinly. “So it’s just me that plans to have children, to pass on his blood - his name - but no, it’s only Jaime who’s fit to carry his legacy.” She casts him a look and shakes her head. “Just because you have a cock.”

He grimaces. “That’s…one way to put it, I suppose.”

“If I’d been born a boy,” she continues darkly, “there’d be no question of who would inherit the family business.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Jaime says. “Father might split it between us. You’re only older on a technicality, after all.”

She kicks him under the table. “You don’t have the ambition,” she replies. “Not for this.”

“Point taken,” he agrees, lifting his glass a little before he drains it.

“Well, you’ve still got some chance,” Tyrion says as the waitress comes around with their new drinks. “Father’s not a gambling man - ah, thank you, darling - when the future of the company looms closer, he certainly won’t stake it on the hope that a Lannister might ever change his mind.” Jaime snorts at that, reaching for his drink, and Tyrion adds, “Sooner or later, he’s bound to realize his second choice is his only option.”

“Father never settles,” Cersei replies, running her finger around the sugared rim of her shot glass. “He won’t ever willingly give the business to his second choice. But that doesn’t mean I can’t take it.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jaime says. “Lord knows I don’t want it.”

She smirks, raising her glass, and knocks back the vodka; the way she bares her teeth before she sinks them into the lemon wedge on her napkin is positively predatory.