#I just need to learn how to draw them properly

[olasketches]

quick suku scribble

[cowboybeebonk]

HAPPY TDPH DAY no angst from me just this

[mintypsii]

got an ask ab them on my sp so i figured id share these old wips lol u guys can have em too

[theswedishpajas]

The man truly can’t take a genuine compliment 🙄

[puppyeared]

who up seeing their disorder in a fictional character but feel like its not their place to put a name on it

[heshemejoshi]

a collection of doodles

[arolesbianism]

Doodle of my boy

[cangrellesteponme]

hehe i drew him >:]

Hippolyte Honoré de Laclos, created by @anawkwardlady ofc

ota-to-english translation for my shit handwriting below:

Hippolyte Honoré de Laclos

not a single thought behind those eyes. hair's getting too long - can't be bothered to get it cut, too busy with ze art ! dry lips (pls drink water) Les Fleurs du Mal, Beaudelaire poorly painted nails (some are straight up cracked)

[swordmaid]

having shri’iia thoughts as one does bc GUESS who’s save file completely died when the new patch came out nooo we have to replay her again 🤭 alas. just stewing on the thought of how she never got to fuck her Mistress even though she wanted to…!!!! like she was out there getting psychologically tortured and mind broken but she was just like WHY won’t you fuck me im literally doing everything for you. which is so bad for her, woman who already has an excruciatingly low self worth because she missed the mark on the standard for lolth’s children (and that’s worse than not fitting in the standard at all) by something out of her own control btw (not being born in a noble house) but she’s been recognised and blessed by her goddess, and she’s been invited to join a drow house so everything should be good right?? she should be desirable right?? finally everything is correct and well and good and the way it should be right????? but no..!! it’s not..!! and so she’s doing everything for this woman, no dignity left, literally doing anything to get her approval, to be told that she’s finally enough, and she’s finally fitting in - and she gets it sometimes, she gets ignored most times tbh and it’s just this painful excruciating stew of self loathing and insecurity that she’s in, and she’s in there for a century but the thing is she can’t even give up. it’s not in her nature to. and she’s done too much to just give up , and she’s been doing this for a long time that she can’t give up and lolth didn’t raise no quitters so she sticks by it, trying to achieve that hopeless praise. but then one day she gets dropped like nothing, everything she’s done and suffered and worked towards and sacrificed gets thrown out bc her goddess isn’t pleased with her and good luck going home btw you’re not welcome here anymore bc ur pathetic. the rug gets pulled under her feet and she’s left in this strange world that she can barely navigate in let alone speak the language and u expect her to b fine with that…?

[end-orfino]

people should show their first drawings/animatics/writings more often. I won't do it but you guys definitely should

[lieutenantselnia]

Less than 4 more weeks of university and a bunch of projects to complete until I'm hopefully free for a while🥹 At least the annoying projects and assignments are mostly over, and I actually really like the topics of the remaining ones, but it's so much in so little time and at this point I just need a break :')

But I can't wait to finally spend time drawing or writing about my favourite characters again <3

[blacknovelist]

Thinking about grief thinking about betrayal thinking about anger and helplessness overlapping thinking so so much about dark knight and feri'um and the echo of fray and being so caught up in their thoughts and their fury and their fear and their desperation that they don't realize when sometimes fray answers before they can actually speak, or how sometimes others watch them worried because something is off even in the daytime, or the way they aren't the only shadow skulking the city at dusk, or how it's trying to eat them alive and they've plunged headfirst down the valley towards it

...but people still smile when they offer spare cooking to passersby in the brume who know them well enough to take it, and they still wander around outside and bask in getting a little bit lost, and still end up tugged gently into helping one, two, five things until its late enough to stay for at least a snack and some tales around a table or fire, and

getting lost in the darkness forever was never an option— they can be dark, certainly, they are, and this is fact. But sometimes a lad's heart is made to bleed and heal and try again another day, and the doubts that fill the abyss will not drown them out. And when they can't drag themself up, that's what friends are for

[halfbit]

i am getting started on productivity for the night but haven't figured out yet if i want to write or art first and there's also the tiny part of my brain that just wants to stare at kabru until it is ok to stop staring at kabru

[5sospenguinqueen]

Djungelskog - Oscar Piastri x Teacher! Reader

Summary: Summer break means forcing Oscar to help you get your classroom ready in time for upcoming school year. 

Fluff. 2024 season. Pinterest pics

Requested: Yes by anon (here)

There's a little blurb halfway down

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

yn_ln last day of term. last recess, last day of chalk drawings. i’ve had a lovely bunch this year and will miss them loads as they move on. looking forward to a much needed break

681 comments

bestfriend feet on the desk? empty classroom? looks like slacking to me

oscarpiastri can’t wait to spend summer break with you 

→ yn_ln it’ll be nice to not have to share you with lando

→ landonorris what makes you think you can get away from me

→ georgerussel63 that sounds like a threat, mate

hattiepiastri does this mean you’ll have time to take me to the babymetal concert? ‘cause mum keeps trying to get out of it 

→ yn_ln do i have to learn the all the lyrics? 

→ hattiepiastri you’re a teacher, learning is in your blood 

→ yn_ln osc, help

→ oscarpiastri no, you chose to befriend her

alexandrasaintmleux omg did the kids do those drawings? 🥹belle

→ yn_ln no, that was lando’s drawing

→ landonorris don’t be silly. i can’t draw that well

teacherfriend i’ll do my best to look after them next year but i know i can’t compete with the fabulous miss ln 

nicolepiastri when can we see miss ln turn to mrs piastri?

→ oscarpiastri this is why i don’t come home 

→ nicolepiastri no, you don’t come home because yn does your laundry now 

oscarpiastri just posted

liked by yn_ln, danielricciardo and others

oscarpiastri first part of the season done. first GP victory. first broken bone. looking forward to a much needed break for the rib

4,811 comments

landonorris omg stop copying your girlfriend’s caption style

→ yn_ln he can’t help it. he’s obsessed with me

→ oscarpiastri true

→ user1 let us innnnn

user2 does a broken bone mean he’ll win the next race

→ yn_ln only if i'm there

charles_leclerc and what have you been doing to break a bone?

→ oscarpiastri helping my girlfriend empty a classroom. there’s a lot of books in there

mclaren enjoy the break. we can’t wait to have you back racing and refreshed 

→ user3 he’s literally only just left the mtc, give him a minute of peace

→ yn_ln don’t worry. i’ll be putting them in a time out if they try and take him

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_ln just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others

yn_ln my happy place. quick lunch break. dragging my big strong man to carry stuff for me in ikea 

814 comments

oscarpiastri before that bear, i was your big strong man :( 

→ yn_ln you broke a rib. you’re only so useful. the bear can’t break 

→ oscarpiastri it can if i pull it’s head off

→ yn_ln you were a biter, weren’t you?

→ hattiepiastri yes

landonorris why wasn’t i invited

landonorris sushi 🤢

→ yn_ln this is why you weren’t invited 

→ landonorris stop trying to push me out 

→ oscarpiastri i see you practically 10 months out of the year. she can have me for one afternoon

charles_leclerc oh i love ikea furniture! can i help?

→ yn_ln of course you can. we have snacks as well

→ landonorris blatant favouritism 

→ yn_ln yes 

danielricciardo omg the djungelskog. when can i meet him?

→ oscarpiastri he’s called skoggie for short 

→ nicolepiastri the closest i’ll get to grandkids

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Oscar grinned at the face filling up the front of his phone, sliding the button across to answer it. 

“He-”

“Babe, I need more glue.” You exploded, cutting him off before he could even greet you properly. “Oh, and paper.”

“-And I broke the scissors. But the good news is, Lan said he could come and help so could you actually pick up 3 pairs of scissors, please?” 

“Sweetheart, breathe.” Oscar reminded you, a soft laugh echoing down the phone. “I’ve literally only been gone for 10 minutes. All we needed was milk. How did you manage to rope Lando into this?” 

“Rope? He was practically hanging by the phone waiting for one of us to call. I asked if he could spare a few minutes - just to give you a hand moving the desk - and he was already in the car on his way.”

“At least he’s preparing us for our own children one day,” joked Oscar.

“How have you got paint in your curls? I didn’t ask you to paint because I knew you couldn't be trusted to paint,” the exasperated voice of his girlfriend echoed down the empty school hallways. Light radiated from a singular doorway at the end of the hallway, beckoning him forward. 

“Every year, I deal with a class of 30 five year olds, experiencing freedom from their parents for the first time. And yet I feel like I need to watch you more than I do them.” 

“But it was just sat on the side, with the lid off!.”

“So you felt the need to somehow stick your entire hand in it?” 

Oscar leant against the doorframe, watching affectionately as you used a wet wipe to get the paint off of Lando as best as possible. Despite the curly-haired Brit being old than you, it didn’t stop the caring instinct that came with being a first-year teacher. 

One wall was painted a soft lilac whilst the other three had been given fresh coats of white. The chairs and tables had been organised into little groups to help you see each child’s face from the front of the class, and the drawers were freshly stocked with stationery. A little rug and some bean bags were set up in the corner for the story nook, and all that was left to do was start hanging up the wall deco. 

“There?” 

“Little higher,” you remarked, after faking a contemplative pause. 

“Now?”

“Little higher,” you leaned back to really take in the view. “Oh, yeah, that’s good.”

The white t-shirt sat snugly on his strained biceps as he held the board up over his head. The hem rode up as he stretched, revealing a nice sliver of tan, muscular back. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you sighed deeply at the sight before you. How easy would it be to reach and smack-

“Babe!” Oscar called again, turning around to check on you. “I can’t hold this- Are you checking me out? You’re supposed to be telling me where this goes.” 

“You shouldn’t look that good then.”

Clambering down from the ladder, he placed the thick board down on the nearest table and sauntered over to you. Placing his hands on your hips, he pulled you flush against him. Pressing a kiss to your nose, he trailed his lips down to your jaw and then under your ear. 

“How about we call it a night? This’ll all be here tomorrow, and you can appreciate the view without the t-shirt.” 

When you didn’t smile at his enticing offer, Oscar pulled down to look at you. Brushing a strand of hair back from your face, he frowned at the furrow between your brows. 

“What’s up, sweetheart?” 

“I’m just worried that it’s not enough, you know…”

Oscar turned his head slightly, drinking in all the work you had put together. The butterflies made out of patterned cards that you had spent hours scouring stores for. The paper flowers decorating the whiteboard that you had spent days stressing about. The stack of drawers with each student's name labelled across the front. The days of work that had gone into ensuring that each little person that crossed your threshold was as happy as they could be. A teacher that cared. 

“I know they’re only five, and they’ve never had another classroom to go off but- I don’t know. I just want them to feel comfortable and safe, and happy. I don’t want them to feel like they’re in an institution designed to make them sit in a seat for six hours.” 

“Look at all the effort you’ve put in so far. Without all the lesson planning and actual caring you’ll do when those kids come under your care. Did you ever have a classroom like this growing up? No. Neither did I. You know why, because nobody cares as much as you do.”

Straightening, he swung you up into his arms, bridal style. A cheeky grin pulled at the corners of his mouth when you shrieked in laughter. 

“Now, let’s go home, Skoggie is waiting for us. We'll grab some dinner and take a bath together. What do you say?” 

“Okay, Piastri. Take me home or lose me forever.” 

oscarpiastri just posted

liked by mclaren, arthur_leclerc and others

oscarpiastri dating a teacher means spending summer break painting, cutting, glueing and then being told “it’s quiet time” whilst she decompresses from watching you do all the work 

3,381 comments

yn_ln you wouldn’t stop talking and i was trying to refresh my barbie knowledge

→ user1 princess and the pauper?

→ yn_ln absolutely 

→ landonorris i’m the erika to her annalise 

→ oscarpiastri whoa, you help with one classroom and think you can take my coveted spot? 

yn_ln plus it was hard work taking in the view 

→ oscarpiastri i had a pretty good view afterwards 🛁🫧

user2 idk why but the paint hands make me wanna scream

→ user3 omg i wonder if they made the little hand canvas things loads of couples have done

→ oscarpiastri we did! they’re now hung up over our bed

maxverstappen1 think you can make some more of those flowers for P’s room? 

→ oscarpiastri i’ve got paper cuts on top of paper cuts. don't ask me to do more

→ yn_ln i’ve got loads left over. she can pick the ones she likes best 

user4 the matching pjs 🥰 this couple has my whole heart

→ yn_ln he also has mine! 

user5 i love when oscar’s insta has something other than racing on it

→ user6 i want yn to let us onto hers so bad. i would sell my soul for the couples content on there

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and others

yn_ln and it’s done. one week of relaxation left before the new term starts. i can’t wait to meet my new bunch of kids. a huge thank you to my constant kid @/landonorris for his help and mess. and an even bigger gratitude to osc. without you, this never would’ve been finished. you helped not only physically but mentally. my rock 💕

1,681 comments

user7 omg am i seeing things? is this actually oscar’s yn? 

oscarpiastri you did an amazing job 🤍 enjoy your last week off

→ yn_ln you better not win any more races without me

→ mclaren you know he can’t promise that 

landonorris maybe if you had been my teacher, i would’ve stayed in school

→ carlossainz55 doubtful 

maxverstappen1 P can’t wait to be in your class

→ yn_ln and i’m looking forward to being her teacher. although it might be hard to fight the urge to show favouritism 

hattiepiastri ew, don’t be cute online

→ oscarpiastri you're just mad that i'm her favourite piastri

→ hattiepiastri we both know that's a lie

→ nicolepiastri it's me

user8 um, can she be my teacher, please?

charles_leclerc i think this is a sign that i need to have children so that you can become their teacher 

→ alexandrasaintmleux let’s stick with leo for now 

→ nicolepiastri i keep trying to convince oscar and yn. you’ll be next, don’t worry 

→ oscarpiastri you have Skoggie. you don’t need any other grandkids

user9 we’re in! everyone say thank you oscar for making her come off priv

→ user10 their couple content is healing my soul

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Request for F1 fics are open.

A/N: Apologies for the delay in getting these out. I've been super busy making jumpers for my upcoming family Disney trip

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119

[runningwithscizzorz]

(1)Learn the rules before you break them + Gather proper references

(2) Understand what you want to break and how

(3) Can't do it? Find someone who can

(4) It's going to look really bad for a while

(5) Have fun with it!

(1) -Yes, I am that kind of artist. Yet, not in the conventional way. I encourage people to go in guns blazing when it comes to drawing something new, then coming out analyzing what they know, and what they need to learn more of right away.

-Here, I broke down the anatomical pieces of Nour and Narinder's face with the same labels so you guys can understand this weird invisible pattern that I follow in my work. Doing this with any animal you're attempting to draw greatly improves your line confidence when drawing different face shapes. Also understanding the biological function for why animals look a certain way helps you keep consistency.

(3) Time to throw any artistic guilt you have for heavily referencing people's art OUT THE WINDOW and start ANALYZING PEOPLE'S WORK YOU WANT TO BE LIKE✨ I've always done this, having a reference of someone else's amazing work right next to my own drawing so I can try and understand how they make their magic work! No shame, no embarrassment, nada. Pure, unadulterated will and spite that I would be just as good as the artist who made me so motivated and happy with their work! I couldn't figure out how to make Nour's face both sheep-like, and humanly expressive, so I looked at a LOT of Zootopia and old Disney art for help!

(2) With how I draw narilamb, I'm still working on it (as you can see) but I wanted to break Narinder's face to be fluffier and slimmer, while Nour's face would be shorter and flatter. If you look at it for too long, it's absolutely going to look weird, in the way that if you look at Anna from Frozen for too long she starts looking really weird. The anatomy isn't meant to be correct or consistent, it's meant to convey the emotion and energy I want out of the characters in that moment. If you're able to properly get that across, then you don't need to think about how broken something looks, as long as your eye is happy enough to trick your brain into thinking what you're seeing is canny.

(4) Yeah, I hate this part too. It's going to look like shit at first. I can't even look at my art from a few months ago when I was figuring out their designs... God, so fucking ugly. If it weren't for the shittiness of those drawings, I would have never gotten here! Wading through the "trust the process" stage always really sucks, but it's absolutely worth the relief of when you finally get something to look right.

(5) Art is work, yes. It's stressful, it's long, it's straining, its draining, it's exclaiming, blah blah blah. But, I try to keep my art FUN. If I find my artwork becoming slow as I depressingly drag my pen over my tablet, I'm failing. You MUST keep spirit and life in your work. The spirit of emptiness or the life of sadness can have a very meaningful place in art, but those can only exist with keeping work light, easy, and fun! If you're stressing how a specific thing looks or how you can't get something to look right no matter what, FUCK IT. Draw something to bring the flavor back in your work! I'm kind of rambling, but just, HAVE FUN!✨️ Be messy, scream, laugh, slash canvases, throw paint, smash sculptures, tear apart books, GO CRAZY

[annwrites]

a call to arms. part four.

— pairing: jacaerys velaryon x dragonseed!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: jace invites you to dinner.

— word count: 3,218

— tagging list: @emilynissangtr @tvangelism @aemondwhoresworld @cecestea @daisyhxsh (continued in comments)

Once Silverwing has landed, Jacaerys descends her first, before motioning for you to do the same, staring up at you with a soft smile and open arms.

You take each step carefully, your footing still very unsure—something you tell yourself will change in time…mayhaps with much time—and then you feel his hands firmly gripping either of your hips.

You jump, landing on two solid feet, before slowly turning round to him.

He runs a soft hand down your arm with furrowed brows. “You’re shivering.”

He unclasps the dark velvet cloak which hangs from his shoulders, instead wrapping it around your own.

“Oh, you don’t need to—”

He cups your cheek, finding it to be cold to the touch. “You may return it to me later.”

He takes a small step closer, slipping his hand beneath the garment, settling it against the small of your back while he gazes down at you, his lip twitching with an idea in mind. “Mayhaps, this evening—”

“Jace,” calls a feminine voice to the right of you.

You both turn, Jace’s warm hands falling away.

He nervously clears his throat. “Y/N, this is the Lady Baela Targaryen. Baela, this is Y/N, one of my mother’s dragonseeds, alongside Hugh Hammer.”

Baela steps closer, giving you a gentle smile, and you give her your best curtsy. “My lady.”

She glances from you, then to Jace, before finally settling on you once again.

“Jace’s cousin. And betrothed.” She pauses before continuing. “It is a pleasure, I’m sure.”

You nod. “The pleasure is mine, my lady.”

She turns her sights to Jacaerys. “Your mother wishes to speak with you. To gauge how this afternoon’s…riding went.”

She forces a smile with pressed lips, her arms resting behind her back with tightly squeezed fists.

He nods, just once. “Of course.”

He looks to you. “I will escort Y/N back to her chambers, and then—”

“I am sure Y/N can find her way from here.”

She looks at you. “Can you not?”

You don’t meet her eyes when you nod, stepping silently away, wanting to hide yourself away where you cannot be seen.

The day had gone from bad, to worse, to extraordinary, to bad again.

“Is that not your cloak, Jace?”

You stop in your tracks, wavering.

“Yes. She was…cold. I’ve lent it to her for the time being.”

Baela glances to your backside for a moment. “I see.”

You exit through those large double-doors, heading in the direction of your room without another word.

“You’ve spent quite a lot of time with her these last two days.”

Jacaerys heads past Baela, in the direction of his mother’s chambers. “Someone must teach her how to properly ride, and, as the dragonkeepers refuse to—”

“Are you to be her tutor in learning our mother tongue as well?”

Jace’s brows furrow as he turns round to her.

She takes a step closer, clasping one of her hands atop the back of the other, resting them over her middle. “I heard the two of you yesterday. Saw… It was as if you could not keep your hands from her.”

“You were spying on us?” He asks with a tone of disbelief.

“I had understood the duty of tutoring her in High Valyrian to have been delegated to Maester Gerardys. Or am I mistaken?”

Jace settles his arms behind his back. “He was not using a firm enough hand. Was being too lenient. Too—”

“Yes, I saw just how firm your hand had been last evening.”

He takes a step closer, his pulse hammering at her insinuations.

As if they are unfounded…

How he hates that they are not.

“What is it, precisely, which you mean to imply, cousin?”

Her eyes flit between his own, searching for her betrothed within. “She is very beautiful.”

He does not reply, but she notes how a muscle in his solid jaw feathers at her words.

“Is it her pale skin, or her pretty, violet eyes? Mayhaps it is that she is new and exciting which draws you in.”

He scoffs. “She is a commoner. Baseborn—of the streets of King’s Landing.”

“So she means nothing to you, then?”

He does not hesitate when he answers. “She is a means to an end for our cause. Nothing more.”

She swallows down a lump in her throat.

“If you are to one day be king,” she says, stepping closer—their chests nearly touching. “You will need to become a far more practised liar, My Prince.”

With that, she steps away.

You servants return to you that evening, but your hopes of soon having dinner are squashed when you see one holding a large wooden board with trinkets set atop it—the other a soft black gown draped over her arms.

You stand.

The one with the board comes toward you. “A gift, from the Prince Jacaerys.”

You look it over. On one side is a stack of parchment, along with an ink pot and two quills. The other side has a collection of colored wax, a bowl to hold it once melted, a stamper, matches, and small ribbons to wrap your correspondences in.

Your eyes meet hers and she smiles softly. “To write to your family and friends, I presume.”

You smile broadly.

“You can uh—” You glance across the room.

“The desk, Y/N?”

You nod happily.

The next one comes forward, presenting you with a new gown. You run your fingers along the soft, flowing material, and she holds it in front of her for closer inspection. The breasts are littered with tiny silver diamonds, the sleeves long, and the neckline high—it should reach just above your clavicle—but sheer.

 “These are to go with it,” she says, setting the dress aside, presenting you with a glossy black pair of slippers.

“And this.”

She retrieves from her pocket a long silver chain, a bauble hanging from the end.

You take the charm into your palm: a polished, oval-shaped piece of onyx, which glitters as if it is filled with thousands of tiny sparks of light.

“Shall we help you dress?” Calls the blonde girl from behind you.

And then the brunette speaks. “Prince Jacaerys…he has requested your presence. For dinner. To join him, that is.”

Your eyes widen. “He has?”

She nods.

You waver for a moment. “You both may help me…once you tell me your names.”

You rub your hand nervously along your forearm. “I should’ve asked as much sooner. I apologize.”

You smile then, as does the small brunette which stands before you. “I’m Nataly.”

The blonde comes around, picking up the dress. “I’m Ellanor.”

“Could…could I call you each Nat and Ella? If you prefer otherwise, that’s perfectly—”

Nataly shifts. “I prefer my full name, actually. Otherwise, it makes me sound like an insect…”

You grin, as does she. “Of course.”

Ellanor speak with a smile. “My mother calls me Ella. I would like that, Y/N.”

Once Jacaery’s guard has announced your presence, you’re bid entry to his chambers.

You take a brief moment to look upon your surroundings—finding them just as decadent as you’d expected them to be.

Pushed against the far wall is a four-post canopied bed, with rich black velvet curtains and a tapestry of the heraldry of his house hanging high upon the wall at the head of it. At the foot of the bed rests a sizeable wooden trunk, with a long black-and-red cloth draped over the top.

Stained glass windows line the left side of the room, casting the floor in various shades of more red, and blue and purple and gold—two large bookshelves are placed between said windows in the middle of the wall, and a looming wardrobe is shoved into a corner, a sizeable hearth crackles against the opposite wall to your right, and in the middle of the space is a dining table.

Beautiful rugs are littered across the floor, and gleaming braziers line the walls, paintings and wooden shelves with novels and woodwork placed here-and-there.

Jacaerys pulls out a chair from the dining table, waiting for you.

His dark eyes trail along your body, admiring his choice of gown for you to wear this evening, as well as the lovely braids your servants have done your hair in—loose, curled tendrils framing your comely face. And between your breasts hangs another gift from him to you: a new necklace.

You step slowly toward him, your skirts quietly swaying round your feet as you come closer.

“Did you receive the stationery set I gifted to you?”

You nod with a smile. “I did. I greatly appreciate it. Thank you, My Prince.”

He cups your cheek. “Jacaerys—or Jace—at least for tonight.”

You nod hesitantly. You then hand back to him his cloak.

He takes it gently from you, draping it over the back of your chair, nodding, indicating you should sit.

And so you do.

As he seats himself across from you, he battles against the feeling of guilt which fills him.

The two of you should not be here like this.

There was no harm in gifting you the writing set—you should’ve been provided as much your first day here—but the gown, the jewel… And being alone with you like this in such a private setting…

He should, instead, be dining with Baela. But she is not the one which plagues his every waking fucking moment now. Not the one who haunts him in his sleep with ghosting touches and whispered words and quiet laughs. Not the one who stokes the fire within him.

Who makes him burn with utter want and desire and lust.

Gods, how you drive him mad.

He does it to himself, clearly.

You seek him out not. But he does as much in regards to you.

It is such a strange dichotomy. To hate something, and yet it is all you are able to think about. To want. As if out of some perverse fascination.

He begins lifting silver lids from platters of food, watching your reaction to every one.

He is sure the dishes you’ve been served here have been far superior to any you ever tasted within the narrow streets of King’s Landing.

He’s sure that everything is better here.

Even if you act little like it.

Because you miss your family. Your…little girl. He wonders then, but not for the first time, if you truly meant it: calling him a ‘green boy’. For you are most-assuredly a woman grown. He’d thought himself a man until you came along.

He’s thought of creative ways he might prove to you just how much he is one, however.

Jacaerys begins serving you—roasted ham and seasoned vegetables, warm bread with butter—while you toy with the jewel that hangs round your neck.

His eyes flit your delicate hand. “Do you like it?”

Your eyes meet his. “Hm?”

He nods to the item you fidget with.

“Yes. It’s…very beautiful.”

You waver.

“But I was wondering… If it would not offend you,” not that you much care if it would—your family comes first. “I’d like to send it back to my family. They need it far more than I. It would feed them. For weeks. It would ease my mind to know they have it to sell.”

He considers for a moment, and then he stands, walking over to the trunk at the foot of his bed, and he opens it.

He leans over it, you hear something jingle, and then he returns to you.

“Hold out your hand,” he tells you gently.

Your brows furrow, but you do it nevertheless.

And then your eyes widen when he places a hefty sack of coin in your palm.

Tears brim as you stare up at him with a wobbling chin as you clutch the gift to your chest.

“Thank you, Jace. This…”

You shake your head, sniffling. “This will keep them well looked after for months. You’ve no idea what this means to me. This will feed my little one.”

He caresses your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s the least I can do for what you will do, in turn, for us, in time.”

He seats himself again, the two of you eating in silence until he breaks it. “Who is it which you take after?”

You glance up to him.

“Your…looks,” he explains.

You lick your lips and he shifts in his seat.

“My late father. He always claimed that he was told by his father, and so on, that we descended directly from the Conqueror himself.”

His jaw ticks. “And do you believe that?”

You shrug, taking a bite of a boiled potato. “It matters little to me. Until now, my bloodline—being of it—has done nothing for us. All I care about is the now. About this war being over, so I can return to those I love the most.”

He grows quiet again, but knows he will continually fill the silence with questions this evening.

He wants to know your story. Wishes for you to be less of an enigma to him. Mayhaps then the temptation of you will be lessened.

“How did he pass? If you don’t mind me asking,” he adds gently.

You move food round your plate with your fork, studying it intently. “It was an accident. He…he was a skilled worker. Could do most anything he put his mind to. From working with stone, to wood, to metal. He was helping build a ship in the harbor. A support beam was not…properly secured. He and one other…”

You stop speaking, deigning that you’ve disclosed enough to serve as an answer.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, sliding his hand across the table, taking your fingertips within his grasp, brushing his thumb along them.

You nod. “Me too.”

He returns his hand to his lap then.

“How long have you and Lady Baela been engaged?” You ask with a soft smile.

He stills. “Not long. Only a few weeks, in fact. A measure by my mother...”

You nod. “She’s very pretty—I like her hair. Is it…strange that she’s your family, and will also be your wife?”

He shrugs slightly. “I suppose not. It’s rather commonplace within my lineage to wed in such a manner.”

His eyes flit to you. “I suppose even you and I are related. Perhaps we are incredibly distant cousins ourselves. So many times removed and so on.”

Your lip twitches. “Very strange to think about.”

He likes the idea of such a prospect, though. It makes him feel…closer to you, somehow. The least bit more familiar, if nothing else.

He clears his throat. “I imagine you mean to wed one day yourself?”

You take a bite of your ham, cutting it into small slices. “When the time is right, and I find someone who can ever hold up to the example my father set for what a true man consists of, perhaps.”

“Rough hands and strong arms,” he replies quietly, looking at you.

You gaze down at your plate with a soft smile and warm cheeks. “Yes, I think so.”

He nods silently, filling with disappointment.

And then he gazes at you over soft, flickering candlelight. “Would you never consider a man of a different…type—build—for yourself?”

You look at him.

“It is possible,” he says, leaning the least bit forward. “To change your mind about that which you think you want. If you only consider other options.”

Without knowing what to say to that, you take a sip of your wine.

Once dinner is through, you make to bid him goodnight, until he slides a hand down your arm, taking your own within his.

Your eyes flit between Jace’s.

“Dance with me,” he whispers.

You raise a brow, thinking he can’t possibly be serious.

“There’s no music,” you say with a grin, ready to pull away, most-assured that he merely jests.

He only shrugs in response, winding an arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest, his other hand raising until it’s at shoulder-level—yours still held firm within its grip.

Awkwardly, you place your free hand upon his lean shoulder, not entirely sure what to do with yourself.

He begins to move…and you promptly step on his foot.

You sigh, ready to—once again—leave, until he squeezes your waist, lifting your feet onto his.

Jace turns the two of you round and round in small circles, lifting you with ease with each step.

He gazes down at you.

“Not as weak as I look,” he remarks with a smirk.

He slides his hand down your waist, resting his palm flat against the small of your back, his fingertips grazing the top of your rear.

His opposite hand releases yours, and you wrap it around his neck for support—so as to prevent yourself from falling over—while his slides into your hair, cradling the back of your head.

He rocks the two of you back and forth—impossibly slow—his dark eyes gazing into your own.

He lowers his head, his parted lips hovering atop yours, and you feel the length of him pressing against your stomach.

You whimper at the feeling, standing on tiptoes, grinding your middle against his member, and he sucks in a sharp breath before moaning in pleasure at the feel.

You begin to grow warm between your thighs—your smallclothes clinging to you—and your breaths come out in shallow pants.

He slides the hand which rests against your back even lower, and lower, until he’s cupping one of your round cheeks, and he gently squeezes, his member twitching against you.

A pleasant pulse settles between your thighs and you glance down to his tented trousers, nodding quietly.

He removes his hand from your arse, reaching into his pants, beginning to stroke, continuing to hold the back of your head.

Jace presses his forehead to yours, his eyes fluttering closed as he tends to himself.

You run your fingers through his hair, shooshing him, your entire body feeling as if it’s been set ablaze.

The only sound to break the taught silence is the crackling of the fire, the shift of his clothing with each stroke of his cock, and his ragged breathing.

He groans softly, pressing his lips to your forehead before returning his own to it—sweat beginning to bead on each of your brows.

You are unsure if the fire has suddenly grown hotter, or if the warmth is of your own two’s making.

“That’s it,” you whisper.

He shudders.

“Gods, I want—” He swallows thickly.

“Tell me,” you prod, pressing your breasts against his solid chest.

“I want—ah,” his movements begin to quicken, his fingers tangling painfully in your hair in anticipation.

You nod eagerly. “Yes?”

He licks his dry lips. “I want y—”

There is a sharp knock at the door then, and the two of you quickly break apart, Jacaerys swiftly stepping across the room, situating himself in his pants, desperately trying to calm his pounding heart and throbbing cock.

You run a hand down your neck, finding it now slick with sweat.

“Yes,” he calls, and two servants enter—quickly bowing, before clearing the dining table.

He glances back to you—his face flushed and silken curls falling over his brow—with an unreadable expression. But with fire still burning in his eyes.

You merely curtsy, tell him ‘goodnight’, and then exit without another word, leaving him standing there…wanting after you, like a dragon does its lost quarry.