#tall reader insert

[justiceiswater]

Bahahaha! why did he approach her at all?! what a frick fracking idiot. Im so pleased that damian swooped in with his wicked tongue to annihilate that dude. Like, Goodbye Corey! Nobody wants you here! 

Exes

Father of Mine – Masterlist

“Don’t you think it’s sad that we’re not throwing a party with goodie bags and cake and stupid little hats?” Y/N asked Dick as they watched Damian playing a game by himself at the arcade.

The two of them were sitting at a booth, but kept Damian in their eye line as he bounced around from game to game.

“The League and the whole fam is coming over tomorrow. The Kents are even letting Jon sleep over,” Dick shrugged. “I just hated the idea of Damian going on patrol on his actual birthday.”

Y/N sighed, knowing he had a point.

Bruce had an emergency that took him out of Gotham.

He already felt like a bad father constantly. But then being out of town for Damian’s birthday made him feel even worse.

Tim and Jason were patrolling Gotham. while the other half of their family was off duty for the night.

Dick had asked Damian what he wanted to do.

Actually, Dick basically had to beg Damian to tell him what would make him happy.

Damian didn’t have a clue.

What do other kids his age do for their birthdays?

And it ended with Dick having to suggest the arcade . At least Damian finally had some sort of reaction to the suggestion.

The only thing he had actually requested was the presence of his sister: “Can Y/N come, too?” Damian had asked Dick, as if there was ever a chance that Dick would say no to such a request.

Now the two of them were watching Damian growling at a game. It was clear from his expression that he was bored by the things.

“You ever feel like we’re his parents?” Y/N asked Dick with a smirk.

Dick laughed and crossed his arms. “Guess it does feel that way sometimes, yeah.”

“But…like…cool parents,” Y/N emphasized.

“Obviously,” Dick agreed. “Getting hungry?”

Y/N nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. I’m starving actually.”

Dick nodded and stood. “I’ll get the three of us some food. Be right back.”

“Y/N?” Someone said from off to the side.

She whipped around to see the last person she expected: her ex-boyfriend.

“Corey?” Y/N almost yelped in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Y/N slowly stood up from their booth, even though she wanted nothing to do with this awkward and unwanted interaction.

Corey went in for the hug and she was a bit taken aback, but got it over with.

“Who the hell are you?” Like an absolute ninja, Damian had appeared out of nowhere, standing at Y/N’s side with a deep frown and his arms crossed.

Y/N had to hide her amusement. “Damian, this is Corey.”

“We used to date,” Corey said in one of those obnoxious voices that people used to talk to kids.

It was unnecessary and causing Y/N second-hand embarrassment for him.

Damian looked the guy up and down, clearly unimpressed.

He finally let out a huff, making sure Corey knew he didn’t think he was anyone special.

Corey caught it and then seemed to realize that he recognized the boy.

He turned to Y/N with his brows raised. “Hey, I saw you all over TV when the Bruce Wayne shit went down.”

She frowned, “Oh. Right.”

Damian immediately noticed that Y/N was uncomfortable.

“I tried call you,” Corey continued. “Wanted to check on you.”

Y/N scoffed and then let out a laugh. “Yeah? What for? It’s not like you ever picked up when I needed you.”

“That’s not true!” He tried to argue.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “I tried calling you three times when my mom died. You never returned any of them or even contacted me at all when I was dealing with all that shit.”

They had already been broken up for a couple of months when Y/N’s mom died. But Corey had been aware of how sick she had been while they were dating. Y/N didn’t expect him to be the shoulder she cried on. But a phone call or even just a text message would’ve been nice. His lack of effort and kindness just reinforced that Y/N was right to break up with him.

“Who’s your friend?” Dick came back with a giant tray of food.

Per usual, he was friendly and gave Corey a warm smile.

“This loser is Y/N’s ex,” Damian answered for Y/N. “And from what I can see, we should be grateful that relationship is over.”

Dick’s eyes widened in horror. “Damian!”

But the boy ignored his older brother and took a threatening step closer to Corey. “You should consider yourself lucky for ever even being in my sister’s presence. I for one can say I am grateful that she wised up and realized she is way too good for you.”

"Jesus, kid." Corey gaped at him. "How old are you? 9?"

Y/N did face palm, knowing this was quickly taking a turn for the absolute worst. Corey could not have picked anything worse to say to her brother.

"I'm 12." Damian said proudly. "But I could still end your life in 5 seconds. Shall we take this outside?"

Y/N combed her fingers through Damian’s hair, desperately trying to calm him down.

She laughed, trying to make light of the situation. “Easy, Damian. No need to attack him on my behalf. It worked out for the best.”

Corey swallowed. “It did?”

Y/N smiled and nodded. “If we hadn’t broken up, I wouldn’t have met Jason.”

“Who’s Jason?” Corey asked, somehow disappointed.

“Her boyfriend, you imbecile,” Damian spat.

“Ooooook,” Y/N drew out. She gave a forced smile to her ex. “It was nice seeing you Corey.”

Her tone made it very clear that she had no desire to continue talking to him – or ever again, to be perfectly honest.

And Corey seemed to finally put together that he should go or this small child was going to destroy him – whether physically or verbally, he was entirely unsure.

“R-Right,” the poor guy managed to stutter out. He gave Y/N a somewhat pathetic wave and said, “Umm… see you around.”

“Sure,” was all she offered in return.

The three of them watched him walk away with his ego seriously bruised.

“He did not call you after you lost your mother?” Damian asked, clearly appalled.

Y/N just shook her head and shrugged. "Didn't come to the funeral either."

“What a worthless piece of–”

“Damian!” Dick warned before he could swear.

“What?! He is!”

Dick nodded. “I know he is. I agree. But you’re 12. Watch your mouth.”

Y/N laughed at the two. “How about we finally eat?”

“Good idea,” Dick agreed.

Luckily, the rest of the night continued without further drama or surprise run ins.

Y/N and Dick even joined in on some of the games with Damian. He seemed to be enjoying himself more. And for a few moments, it was like he was just another normal kid.

“Need me to drive you home?” Dick asked Y/N when they walked out of the arcade a couple hours laters.

“No, Jason–”

But before Y/N could finish her sentence, a motorcycle screeched to a halt in front of them.

Jason took off his helmet and revealed a mischievous smirk beneath it. “Hey, beautiful. Want a ride?”

Y/N laughed at her boyfriend and nodded.

“Demon Spawn!” Jason called over the motorcycle.

“What?” Damian asked while he rolled his eyes.

Jason pulled something from inside his leather jacket and tossed it to him.

Damian easily caught it.

Jason had given him a new pack of colored pencils.

Y/N recognized the brand. They were super high end. And being set of 120 meant that they must’ve cost over $200.

“Happy Birthday,” Jason said lazily with a shrug.

His attention moved to Y/N. “How was the arcade?”

Jason was clearly trying to draw everyone's attention away from the fact that he gave Damian a super expensive and thoughtful gift.

“Good. We met one of Y/N’s ex-boyfriends,” Damian blurted out immediately.

Y/N face palmed herself once again, and groaned.

Jason raised an eyebrow and glanced at Y/N. “That so…”

“Yup,” Dick clarified. “And Damian did a good job of emasculating the poor guy.”

Jason smirked at Damian and held out his fist.

Damian smiled back and fist bumped him.

“Thanks for filling in, Demon Spawn.”

“OK. Can we stop talking about this now?” Y/N begged.

Dick agreed. “Alright, Dami. Time to get going.”

Y/N smiled at her brother and gave him a huge hug. Damian tried to act disgusted by the physical affection, but she knew he loved it.

“Happy Birthday, Damian. I’ll see you tomorrow. OK?”

“Mhmm,” the boy hummed.

Y/N walked over to her boyfriend and Jason quietly put on a helmet for her, making sure it was tightened correctly at the bottom and sitting right.

Damian didn’t start walking with Dick until Jason and Y/N whipped around the corner.

–––

“What’s got you so quiet?” Y/N asked Jason as they got ready for bed.

It was rare that the two of them went to bed together. One of them was usually sneaking into bed hours later. It was such a small, domestic thing. But when they were able to have it, they were grateful.

Y/N was doing her nightly skincare routine.

Jason was reading a book in bed.

But she could tell from the tension in his body and his eyes that he wasn’t really reading. He was spacing out, getting lost in his head. She also noticed he hadn’t turned a page in over 5 minutes.

Jason kept looking at the book as he asked, “How come you’ve never told me about any of them?”

Y/N squinted. “Told you about who?”

“Your ex-boyfriends.”

“Ahh. I see.” Y/N should’ve expected that it would come up eventually.

She crawled onto the bed, folding her hands on Jason’s stomach and then balancing her chin on top. He put his book to the other side of the bed and brushed some of Y/N’s hair away from her face.

“Honestly?” Y/N sighed. “None of them are really worth talking about.”

Jason narrowed his gaze. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true! Corey, the guy they met tonight…he was nice and fun at the beginning. Then one day I woke up and I just…I just realized that I was putting so much into a relationship that barely made me happy. I didn’t even cry when I broke up with him. It felt better to be alone than to be in a relationship that made me feel…”

“Nothing?” Jason offered.

She nodded.

“Hmm. And the others?”

Y/N shrugged. “Pretty much the same. Or we were just young and stupid.”

Jason nodded.

She gave him a soft stare, almost forlorn somehow.

“Jason, I know you’ve convinced yourself that I’m slumming it with you or something… But you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Jason teased, trying to keep it lighthearted.

He pulled her body up so her face wasn’t so far away from his, guiding her body so she was straddling him while his back still sat against the headboard.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it is your line,” she admitted. “But if it’s true for you, why is it so hard for you to believe it’s true for me, too?”

Jason takes her in.

Somehow he had a way of looking at Y/N that made her feel like she was the only woman he had ever seen before. He took in every detail even though he’d memorized her body long ago.

“‘Cause it’s you, obviously.” He finally told her.

Y/N shook her head, silently telling him that she didn’t accept such an answer.

“And what about you?” She asked.

Jason tilted his head. “What?”

“Your exes. You’ve never talked about them either.”

Jason huffed as if it took a lot of effort to even remember.

“Well… there was Rena. But we were children. Literally. Just a mutual crush, really. Met her when I was still Robin.”

“Did she know?” Y/N quickly asked.

Jason pretended to be offended by the question. “Course not.”

But Y/N pushed him to continue. “And after Rena?”

Jason winced, already knowing his girlfriend wouldn’t like this part.

“After Rena, I…uh…you know…died. Or whatever. But when I came back to Gotham, I wasn’t exactly looking for–” He coughed. “Relationships – if you know what I mean.”

“So you were just a little slut?” Y/N smirked.

Jason laughed. “Something like that, I guess. Yeah.”

She giggled at his honesty.

“Hey,” his voice was serious, making her smile drop. “I mean that when I say it.”

“What?”

“That you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Y/N responded with a kiss.

“And to think you tried to push me away…” she teased.

Jason groaned and hid his face in her neck, causing Y/N to giggle again. “I was scared!”

“The infamous Red Hood scared?” Y/N laughed. “You’re so full of shit.”

“You’re right.” Jason sat up straighter with a threatening look, which Y/N saw right through. “I ain’t scared of shit. And I’m fucking terrifying. I’ve made grown men piss themselves at the very sight of me.”

Y/N threw her head back in a laugh. “No. You’re secretly a softie. Don’t think your birthday gift to Damian got past me. You spent a pretty penny for someone who calls him ‘Demon Spawn.’”

Jason pretend to be confused.

“Yeah, you’re a softie,” Y/N repeated in a whisper. “But that’s why I fell in love with you.”

––––––

let me know if you liked it. ill keep writing these if people keep reading them. but i can't know that if you don't tell me.

[novaursa]

The List Of My HOTD Reader Insert Works:

The list received a makeover. There is no longer a second one. All is here, in one place.

I don't give permission to others to use my original ideas for their works (that's includes any form of art). I also don't give permission for my work to be copied or translated into another language and posted somewhere else. This also applies to anything regarding an AI. You have been warned.

Requests are CLOSED! Please stop sending them to me, and respect me enough to understand how I'm unable to be doing anything outside my schedule right now!

Aegon II Targaryen

Helaena Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Daeron Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Jacaerys Velaryon

Daemon Targaryen

Baela Targaryen

Otto Hightower

Gwayne Hightower

Alicent Hightower

Cregan Stark

Harwin Strong

Criston Cole

Jason Lannister

Tyland Lannister

Jason and Tyland Lannister - The Golden Court

Davos Blackwood

The List Of My ASOIAF Reader Inserts Works:

Oberyn Martell

Aerys II Targaryen

Rhaegar Targaryen

Daenerys Targaryen

Arthur Dayne

Robb Stark

Sansa Stark

Arya Stark

Jon Snow

Edmure Tully

Euron Greyjoy

Theon Greyjoy

Margaery Tyrell

Tywin Lannister

Cersei Lannister

Jaime Lannister

Tyrion Lannister

Robert Baratheon

Eddard Stark

Brandon Stark (The Wild Wolf)

Lyanna Stark

Roose Bolton

Ramsay Bolton

Jojen Reed

Petyr Baelish

Jaqen H'ghar

Sandor Clegane

Khal Drogo

Ser Bronn of the Blackwater

Beric Dondarrion

Styr the Thenn

Oswell Whent

Ser Duncan the Tall - A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

The List Of My F&B Reader Insert Works:

Aegon I Targaryen

Visenya Targaryen

Rhaenys Targaryen

Maegor I Targaryen

Torrhen Stark

Orys Baratheon

Aegon (The Uncrowned) Targaryen

Viserra Targaryen

Aegon III Targaryen

Aegon IV Targaryen

Daemon I Blackfyre

Aerion Targaryen (Brightflame)

Brynden Rivers

Dune Crossover

The Truth About The Chosen Ones (my original book, a small introduction)

Requests are CLOSED!

About Me

[hotpinkboots]

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ | (Insanely)Tall!Business woman!Wife x GN!Reader: Romantic Headcanons

"I missed you, beloved."

Warning(s): None, this domestic fluff, pampering, and a bit of comedy (bc she's so tall)

All photos are from Pinterest

~~~

~I'm gonna be upfront about your woman's height. She's like 13'2. You come up to her upper thigh, or at the most, her hip.

~And she loves it. While she prefers to keep her sleek black suit spotless and unwrinkled, she can, if she wishes, pick you up and bring you places with her. She won't mind if you sit with her through all of her board meetings and telephone calls (so long as you don't interrupt).

~She stays gone almost all day. When she's not gone, she's leading a meeting in the boardroom of her Manor. You can always hear her voice more than anybody else's - she loves to talk business. She loves to talk money.

~She loves to come home to you after a long day of work, work, work.

~Her nightly routine is strict. She needs to stay on schedule.

~But, she always includes you in her routine, always makes sure she can spend time with you during her busy schedule, especially after a day of not having any breaks to see you.

~"I missed you, beloved!" she smiled down at you adoringly, leaning down to softly drag her fingertips down your cheek in affectionate greeting.

"How was your day? ...Did you use the rest of your allowance like you did last month I told you not to shop 24/7-"

"No! I browsed," You retorted through a snort of amusement, turning your head to kiss the tip of her finger.

~She'll let you take off her jewelry for her, putting you on her dresser (which was build specifically for her, so you'll need her help getting up onto it and down off of it) so that you can reach.

~While doing so, she chatters about her day and what she did, and plans for tomorrow. Then, she asks what you did with your day.

~Interjects occasionally with a gasp or small applause when you speak of anything you accomplished. Even if you just sat around a bit, she's still proud- getting the rest you need is important, and she prioritizes your mental and physical health greatly.

~Kissing her is difficult. Not because of her size, but because- oh, let's just say that, for some peculiar reason, she has terribly sharp teeth.

~If you cut your tongue on her teeth, she'll pet the back of your head to soothe the shock of the little cut.

~"Oh! Sorry, beloved. Be careful where you put that thing!" she grinned cheekily.

~As mentioned earlier, she gives you an allowance. She doesn't mind if you work or not (but she might encourage you to, believing that you'll feel more fulfilled if you have a job), but either way, you'll get an allowance.

~She's rich! Rich rich rich. So rich that she doesn't know what to do with all of her money after she's finished working on her investments, payments, deals, stocks, funds-...you get the point.

~Although, she is a bit of a hoarder. Don't expect to get a penny more than your allowance (which is quite a bit already, you probably won't want any more than she gives you). Do expect gifts, though.

~Speaking of gifts, she remembers every anniversary (and doesn't expect you to remember them, but will suggest you begin tracking everything on your calendar. That way you can keep track of all important dates (not just anniversaries)).

~Spoils you lovingly, kisses your forehead often, goes on long and creatively-worded rants about how she loves you.

~While she loves doting on you, she expects the same in return. She's fabulous and grand and successful. She deserves to be doted on, as well. Kiss her hand, compliment her. Her mere presence demands reverence, you had better give it to her.

~Her Manor is built for her specifically. She has no problem going in and out of rooms. Is it absolutely huge for you, a normal sized human? Yes.

~But it's fun to explore.

~When she's not in her Manor, oh boy. Hitting her head on everything. Staring blankly at doors she knows she can't fit through. ~

She can see through your eyes, though! Will ask you to go places and tell her what's going on and how things look.

~You once lost track of time while you were out and about, and left her waiting for too long. She grew concerned.

So she began sticking her arm through the door and grabbed people until it was you she caught.

~She wasn't angry, not at all- she just had somewhere to be and wasn't about to leave without you. Definitely don't leave her waiting.

~You get to be the first person to see anything she comes up with. New business idea? Program? She asks what you think about it.

~This woman doesn't give a damn about anybody's opinion, so if she's asking you, she cares deeply. Does she have to sometimes listen to what other people want, just because it's all part of business? Yes. Does she care? No. She cares about what she wants.

~But you? She cares. She wishes to hear your thoughts. Because to her, the only truly smart people in the room are you and herself. She wouldn't have married a fool.

~Your (GIGANTIC) wife never grabs you without permission. She'll dote on you randomly by bending down to kiss you many times to cover you in lipstick marks, yes, but she always asks before doing anything like picking you up or getting handsy.

~Life with your super tall awesome wife is rich (literally), occasionally chaotic, and comfy. You'll never want for anything ever again- you've got it all. Endless money, but most of all, endless love.

~~~

~Love, HotPinkBoots

[ozzgin]

I like the idea of the yokai squad with a darling who's already shorter than average with their peers, so they're just miniscule next to Suma and Kiritsubo. They're all traveling and come across a fruit tree and Suma is ready to pick them but reader is like WAIT. I got this. And climbs him like a jungle gym until they're standing on his shoulders, now high enough to pick fruit

The way you described it immediately made me think of this.

[ambersweets134]

I love Heisenburg's attitude, but my gay ass is taking her for sure

This took 3 hours and I forgot to eat😭

[meowsgirldrawing]

BG3- Upsides to having a tall partner! (Astarion + Tav)

Then the downsides-

[moonstruckme]

OK TALL!READER REQUEST W POLY!MARAUDERS SO MAYBE JUST SOME DOMESTIC FLUFF W READER TEASING THE BOYS ABOUT THEIR HEIGHTS AND STUFF? OR MAYBE LIKE SIRIUS AND READER BEING LIKE A CHAOTIC SHORT-TALL DUO?

Thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x tall!reader ♡ 555 words

“Sirius,” you whisper loudly, leaning across the table and schooling your expression into one of concern, “do you want me to ask the waitress for a high chair? Can you read the menu alright from that angle?” 

Dark brows lower as Sirius glares at you. “I’m fine, thanks,” he says, voice dripping with malice that’s probably at least half feigned. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. “Hey, how’s the weather up there? I didn’t realize mountains could walk.” 

“It’s quite nice,” you reply, smiling at him, but James frowns. 

“Oi,” he says warningly. “This here is the prettiest mountain I’ve ever seen.”

Remus laughs quietly behind his menu, and you sigh even as James gives your hand a squeeze of solidarity. You’d tried to make a joke at his expense on the way into the cafe, but it had slipped right by him. When you’d asked if he needed you to hold his hand to cross the street, James insecurity-is-a-foreign-concept Potter had only said “Yes, please” and intertwined your fingers, not faltering even when you’d called him Junior. He’s still holding onto it, but at least his fingers waggling between yours makes a fine consolation prize for your failure. 

“So she gets to make fun of me,” Sirius objects, “but I don’t get to make fun of her back?” 

“Yes.” James bobs his head. “That’s exactly how it works. Way to keep up.” 

Sirius curls his lip at the both of you. “Fine. You can keep each other, and I’ll keep Moony.” He wraps a possessive arm around Remus’ waist, and the other boy only gives him a cursory glance as he’s tugged further down the booth and up against Sirius’ side. 

You give Sirius a pitying look. “Think you can kiss him if he doesn’t decide to lean down and let you?” you ask him. “You should have chosen James, at least you can sort of reach him.” 

Sirius' mouth puckers with an indignance that borders upon violent. “I’ll climb.” 

“Mmm, but some of us don’t have to.” You lean over the table, using your height to drop a kiss on Remus’ head where it’s bent over the menu. He looks up in surprise, and beside you, James' face breaks into a grin as pink spreads across the high points of your boyfriend’s cheeks. 

“I didn’t ask to be dragged into your quarrel,” Remus says, as sternly as he can while his shoulders are pulling slowly towards his ears. 

“Sorry,” you say, and you half mean it, both guilted and endeared by the bashful look in his eyes. 

“Oh, don’t be,” James tells you. “Maybe you’ll remind him he’s alive. Can I have one, lovie?” He beams, closing his eyes and angling his face up towards yours. 

You laugh, pecking his lips. James’ hand whips up, and you can forget how fast he is sometimes, your chin in his grasp before you can get more than a whisper of air between you. He kisses you three more times in rapid succession, only letting go once he’s fully convinced he’s got you dizzy with affection. And you are, blinking dumbfoundedly at your menu as Sirius snickers across the table. 

“Got nothing more to say, have you?” he asks, smug. 

“Shut up,” you mutter. “Or I’ll tell the waitress you’ve asked for a kids menu.”

[unconventional-user]

Statuesque

I'm crawling out the sewers to re-introduce myself. Plus new blog yay!

König and Reader are relatively almost the same height SO I DONT WANNA HEAR NO CANON THAT READER IS 5 FOOT SOMETHING NO THEYRE LIKE 6'5 HELL PROBABLY EVEN TALLER-

Anyways, as you can tell I know nothing about the military nor COD, only what I've read and seen. Shoot me. Reader is intended to be gn overall but correct me in case.

pairing: könig x tall!reader 

warning(s): uhhhh idk, kinda sucks? (I tried)

word count: 2.7k

* This work was created by @unconventional-user, no re-post(s), you may, however, re-blog. Thank you. *

'How tall are you?'

'Are you a basketball player?'

'Do you wear heels?'

'How's the weather up there?'

These questions were a constant occurrence whenever leave took place. It was a reminder how annoying and entitled people were at times.

Luckily, deployment had come quickly most times, so you wouldn't have to deal with them often.

It's not like there was anything to head back to when 'off duty' anyway.

Parents were several countries overseas as well as other family, friends, and folk. So being called back often wasn't a rare occurrence nor was it annoying...

After joining the Air Force, it was expected of your squadron to work alongside certain groups. You happened to be the lucky few that helped aid the Special Air Services pretty often. It was mainly with transports as well as to help fly troops on missions.

It was nice. Some of the best times honestly.

Britain was a really cool place too.

But the constant travelling back and fourth, US to UK kind of left this uncertainty of which place was your 'true' home.

Almost like an identity crisis sort of.

So after some thinking and request of separation, you moved countries alongside joining the British Army.

Many more years later you're a part of the Special Air Services.

You could say the years in the Air Force might've helped a bit by leaving such positive feedback to them when SAS asked about their new soldier.

Judging from their background, they described as if the "golden child" for helicopter pilots was amongst them:

A once in a lifetime.

A relic of some sorts.

A phenomen.

According to them, you knew how to maneuver the damn chopper 'as if you built it yourself'.

Thus becoming a well recognized name amongst the special forces more specifically.

You'd like to thank the impeccable flying skills for landing you on such a radar.

Still, most of your work went unnoticed the first couple of years in SAS til' they eventually caught someone's eye later on:

"That's some amazing skills there—hello, we haven't met. My name is Kate."

The communication analyst would keep in touch with you after that. She claimed a specific task force officer asked for your wings.

"You know how to maneuver a helicopter better than anyone I've seen in a while. And I'm not the only one who's seen you in action."

Years pass after that, you're still on par with transporting soldiers and the Task Force 141, means you must be doing something right…right?

Shaking off the commotion of thoughts, you drove till the view of a familiar, bordered gateway appeared.

Upon entry, it was time to head over to your station.

-

Some inspections and loadings later, a shout was heard from afar. Turning towards the culprit, it was none other than Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish.

"Long time no see, aye bonnie?"

Leaning against the rails of the helicopter, he gave a smile. In return you gave one back as you finished clearing the aircraft as: PASS.

"Good afternoon, Sergeant," you chuckled, "I believe I saw you yesterday."

Ignoring the matter-of-fact, he continued on, "Call me Soap. Remember, yer one of us."

Smiling awkwardly, you pretend to re-inspect one of the throttles once again.

To be 'considered' a part of task 141 was…a weird feat or way to put it overall. You were in their squadron as their pilot, but you weren't necessarily with them. You weren't a part of their briefings or any of that.

You were separate from them.

The only one who really 'considered' you as part was Sergeant MacTavish.

Not to say the others were assholes or something. Lieutenant Ghost often would brief a 'good job' or 'nice maneuvering' to you once in a while.

Sergeant Garrick and Captain Price also acknowledged you from time to time, always greeting when deemed necessary.

To put it into simple words…they like your flying skills. You're like a designated pilot for them sort of.

'Way to make it sound like you're just a chauffeur-'

Shaking the thoughts aside once more, you focused on what Johnny said.

"Come again, Sergeant?"

The man chuckled, shaking his head but repeated himself once more. He always found you cute yet attractive. A true bonnie. These small actions never ceased to add to his attraction towards you.

Plus, he liked them tall. He could only imagine you in heels now…

"Wait…so you guys are gonna team up with a whole 'nother group for the mission?" You asked.

Great. Now he had to shake his thoughts aside. Clearing his throat, Johnny nodded.

"Price got told he needed backup for this one. Apparently it's too risky to go alone."

"Sounds rough."

"Aye, Ghost ain't too fond of the idea either."

Didn't look like he was too happy about the situation as well.

Nodding, you understood the lieutenant's 'worry' about being aided by a private contractor unit. Another responsibility and potential liability overall.

Trying to look on the bright side of things, at least they'll be more careful.

"Well…better safe than sorry, right? Plus you guys won't be so bored on the ride there!" You internally cringed at your feeble attempt to cheer the man up.

Hey, at least it made him laugh though.

"Ye ready to deal wit' another crew of dafties 'en, bonnie?"

Laughing, you closed the door to the aircraft.

"I'll see you in a bit, las."

-

The briefing ends; said Austrian begins heading towards the designated lockers.

Kortac had been called back by the SAS, unsurprisingly. They’d worked alongside the particular military service before (more than a few times).

The report claimed a certain special ops unit would need some assistance on an important mission. The team was ordered to help aid as a “battering ram” of sorts, both pre and post mission.

Of course they knew just who to send alongside for additional aid to the team.

König rolled his eyes, slamming the locker in frustration. He really didn’t want to be here at all. In his eyes, he was assisting a potential enemy. The SAS wasn’t necessarily a foe to KorTac, but it’s not like they were allies either.

So case in point (to König), he was being forced to help the potential enemy.

There were other soldiers sent alongside König. One of them looked over at him, an eyebrow raised, “Alles gut?”

König looked over at the soldier and said nothing, hood completely concealing his annoyed face. He’d rather be anywhere else than here if he’s being honest.

Heading towards the helipad, where he’d meet the rest of his ‘team’ mates, König tripled checked his tactical gear on him before stepping onto the designated helicopter.

His eyes narrowed onto a familiar face—or rather a mask—he had met before. Ghost simply responded back to König’s hostile stare vice versa. Neither said anything, but sat on opposite sides of one another.

No mind was paid to the rest that got onto the helicopter, except for Sergeant MacTavish, who made his entrance known with a hearty laugh followed by an annoyed looking Sergeant Garrick.

After the rest got settled in, Captain Price stood center and went over some key details again, mainly about KorTac’s assistance on the mission. König felt someone’s eyes on him as a chill ran along his neck. He turned his head and saw the same soldier from earlier at the lockers move to sit next to him. Said soldier looked away nervously to avoid the blue eyes.

Komisch. König narrowed his eyes in confusion, but remained silent overall. He felt the soldier lean in, “Is this your first time working with them?” They then gestured their head towards Task force 141. König didn’t acknowledge them and remained quiet. Looking away, he ignored the huff of the—now annoyed— soldier.

“Ist mir doch...”

König ignored the subliminal guilt he felt by acting like he didn’t hear the soldier’s mutterings. Trying to distract himself, he re-checked his tactical gear.

Knife is attached to his side. His tourniquet was in place, perfectly positioned if needed. He had 2 extra stocks on his left thigh—

Thoughts were interrupted as 2 pairs of feet stepped onto the helicopter and the doors were closed. König looked up and he swore he heard himself swallow back a gulp. Thank whatever is up there that he had his hood concealing his face. König could feel his face becoming warm.

Completely ignoring the other pilot officer greeting the team, his eyes focused on you.

Who were you?

You seemed to be standing at almost—if not the same—height as König,

He absolutely loved that.

Eyes fell onto your hands, noticing the lack of a band surrounding it, which he also seemed to love.

He was unsure if he had a visceral reaction to your presence but it felt like when people saw color for the first time. He felt the need to hide his flustered face (even though the hood already does that for him).

Du siehst bezaubernd aus.

He thought, eyes not leaving your form.

As you and the other pilot head towards the cockpit, he couldn't help but ponder.

Was that what many consider ‘love at first sight'? Him? In love?

The idea seemed almost laughable, mainly because he didn't think he could ever imagine him even having the courage to even attempt to pursue someone. Let alone have someone finding him worth being with.

König (sadly) broke his stare by looking at the soldier who jabbed his shoulder. Bothered, he turned towards them with narrowed eyes.

Grinning, the soldier commented, "As they say in America; statuesque."

-

Stepping towards the helicopter, you could feel your mind calm down. You knew exactly what to do. Tis the moment. You're in the zone.

Ew. That’s literally so cheesy.

You thought as you covered your hand to hide the growing smile.

Your co-pilot turned over at you, “Everything ok?” he asked, confused.

Putting a hand down, you nodded, “Yep. Just…thinking of something.”

He gave you an odd look but didn't perpetuate any further, simply muttering under his breath, “...How’d I get stuck with the tall weirdo?”

You pretend not to hear that, letting out a sigh and stepping onto the helicopter.

The co-pilot flashed everyone a tight-lipped smile as eyes fell onto him first, “Proud to be working with everyone here.” But eyes quickly fell onto the person looming over him.

That person being you.

With a flashed smile and wave, you greeted them, “I’m going to be your eyes in the skies today.”

The assisting team nodded a ‘Yes Officer’ your way. Nodding to the group, you observed them until one of them caught your eye.

The moment your eyes landed on the gentleman in the hood suddenly time had stopped, not noticing when he looked back either. His eyes widened whilst looking like he had choked on the air or something.

He looked a little bit taller than you—only a little—which almost never happens.

He was also oddly cute (considering he had a full on sack over his head).

Suddenly self conscious about appearance, you straighten up and try to hide the blush apparent on your face. If it's obvious, nobody dares say anything.

It probably didn't help that he was staring back at you as well. Interlocked, neither breaking eye-contact till the soldier next to him nudged his shoulder.

Luckily, you were able to gather yourself and head into the cockpit. It seemed like the others had disappeared, leaving only you and him. But you surged on, unaware of eyes following your direction.

Finally out of sight, you were able to find your footing and headed towards the left.

Your co-pilot sat to your right.

Alright, it’s go time.

Snorting, you muttered, “...still so cheesy.”

“Huh?” the co-pilot turned.

“Nothing!”

-

It was finally over. The mission was done. You could feel the relief washing over as you were able to land on the helipad again.

No casualties (thankfully), except for 2 soldiers who were grazed by bullets. One of them being Ghost, who had apparently saved one of the other soldiers who were shot.

You still remembered upon landing to reach them on the field, Ghost was angrily dragging the other wounded soldier by the vest, holding his shoulder in the process.

One soldier yanked out a med kit as another snatched them away from the lieutenant.

The shouting could be heard from the cockpit as you flew away. You and your co-pilot ignored it and continued to flee the warzone.

As you were able to land, you slowly started feeling at ease.

Even though you’ve been flying for years, the adrenaline and anxiety was still the same every time.

The difficulty was always trying to shake the feeling of nerves off. A good cigarette always seems to ease them away. Speaking of which…

You reached into your lower back pocket; you cursed when you didn’t feel any familiar shaped boxed. Must’ve left the pack in your locker. Luckily, it wasn’t too far.

Headed towards said lockers, someone had walked next to you. Upon looking, no words were exchanged as you were side-to-side with the extremely tall soldier.

You expected him to say something. He didn’t. Simply continue to walk.

You decided to do so instead.

“Hello.”

The hooded man faced you this time with flat eyes. You stopped walking, so did he. Gulping down the nervousness, you took a good look at him.

He was taller than you, even if it was by a couple inches only. He was still taller than you.

“Sorry for bothering but…” chewing on your lip (which he definitely looked at), you confessed, “...I've never seen someone as tall—hell—taller than me. So I just wanted to introduce myself.”

You tell him your name, trying not to seem so upfront about it. He continues to look on for a while, in which you think maybe he didn’t want to talk to you at all.

“König.” is all he (manages to) says and continues to walk (although appearing dull looking towards you, he was internally sweating bullets as well).

“...Well König…I was wondering…if you would like to…maybe hangout, tonight. I'm actually going out to head for some drinks tonight and I thought…” you chuckled nervously while trying not to mumble, he however, cut you off.

“What?” König asked in what seemed an annoyed tone.

Not to him though, he just seemed weary about strangers, plus he didn't really know how to act around someone he seemed to have a crush on. He didn't even think he sounded rude about it.

Which was the problem.

You quickly explained to him, “Well…we don't have to. I swear I just wanted to offer maybe I thought you'd be interested-”

He cut you off again, “Why would I want to spend my time with you?” 

Oh god König. If only he knew just how bad he was fucking this up.

Swallowing, you looked away from said man, “Um…nevermind I didn't mean to disturb you, please, forget I ever bothered you haha…” you slowly drifted off, trying to hide the wobble in your lip.

Forcing a smile you began to walk away from him.

König’s eyes widened as you began to walk away.

No. No. No. Nein. Nein-

Was tust du?! He thought as he saw your lips wobble.

Do something before they leave!

“Wait!” He blurted out. This time he didn't seem to care that the surrounding soldiers looked at him.

But when you turned around however, he felt his stomach flutter.

Oh shit now what-

He didn’t know what to say now. So he simply just walked up, grabbed both of your shoulders and explained how he’d love to go out for drinks.

Motivated, you just looked up at him, the genuine smile creeping back onto your face, “Really?”

König felt himself freeze, but nodded regardless:

“Ja.”

“Okay, great…Amazing!” Giving him the details, you headed towards the lockers, the–now–lovestruck smile on your face. König waved until he realized what he just did.

He agreed to go out for drinks. With you.

With you. 

What was his issue then? Nothing was wrong with you.

But you wanna go out with him. Him.…now that's a different story.

He was freaking out–not that anyone could tell–König stood still in one spot, till the hand on his shoulder broke him out of it. It was the previous soldier from before:

“Gut?” they tried asking König again, who narrowed his eyes back at them. 

“Ja.”

Can you tell this was rushed and kinda a little self indulgent? Yeah, now I feel kinda cringe. Also didn't mean to cut it off so suddenly, maybe to be continued? Maybe.

[lieutenantselnia]

F/o list meme because I miss posting about them but don't have all to much energy for other stuff currently, so memes it is😂 I lowkey wanna do more of these alignment chart memes now (both self ship and others), they're just fun :D

Template by @strawberry-selfships!

[justiceiswater]

Holidays in the manor! Major drama for the Wayne’s and Kent’s! Conner sounds like a bad time and I hope we don’t see a lot of him. I love how grumpy reader got. Just straight up petty. And Jason was so supportive! Even a little excited!

Thanksgiving

description: The Waynes and Kents decide to have Thanksgiving together. But that's not even the drama of the day.

a/n: the version of conner kent/kon-el i use for this is from new 52.

Father of Mine – Masterlist

“OK. What’s wrong?” Y/N had enough of her boyfriend’s silence.

Jason’s grip tightened on his steering wheel. But he responded with, “Why would something be wrong?”

“You’re being quiet.”

Which honestly wasn’t fair. Jason might have sass, cleverness, and sarcasm… but he also loved comfortable silence – though, really only Y/N and maybe Alfred knew that about him.

So it wasn’t fair to attack his silence.

But Y/N also knew there was something behind it in this specific moment.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jason shrugged. “Just…not really looking forward to this.”

“This being spending Thanksgiving with our family?”

Jason didn’t say anything, but it answered her question still.

“J,” Y/N’s voice was serious now. “If you’re that stressed about it, why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve spent the quietest and most boring Thanksgiving with my grandparents?”

As in her mother’s parents – who also happened to despise Bruce Wayne after how he treated their daughter.

Y/N fully believed if they knew Bruce’s secret, they would come to understand the situation fully like she had.

But Batman wasn’t her secret to tell – and somehow Bruce had learned to not care about people hating him for what they didn’t know.

“I’m not stressed,” Jason corrected roughly.

“Well, what exactly are you so worried about?”

He looked away from the road for a split second to give her a look. “You’ve never been to a Wayne/Kent function.”

Y/N squinted in confusion. “So? I’ve known Clark and Lois longer than I’ve known all of you. And Jon is such a sweetie.”

“Yeah,” Jason sighed. “Well, you haven’t met Conner.”

“Clark’s brother?”

He just nodded.

But they both knew that was not the real relation. Conner was a clone of Clark and Lex Luthor, making him half-kryptonian and half-human, with a genius intellect.

“I don’t know much about him,” Y/N admitted.

“With him and Tim, and then Jon and Demon Spawn, it’s gonna be chaotic.” His eyes flickered to hers. “I mean, like shit-show chaotic.”

Y/N smirked. “Sounds fun, honestly.”

“Not really,” Jason mumbled. “He’s probably gonna hit on you.”

“Hit on me?!” Y/N blurted out. “Conner?”

“Yeah.”

She rolled her eyes. “And how can you be so sure?”

“Because he’s hit on me. And you’re completely out of my league. Obviously.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. That was not at all the answer she was expecting.

“What?” Jason asked when she didn’t respond. “He’s bisexual,” he added with a shrug.

“Yeah, and that’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting that answer.”

Y/N finally reached over and gripped Jason’s thigh. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Then she let out a heavy sigh. “To be honest, it feels weird going to a different Thanksgiving. It was always my mom’s side of the family. But all my cousins are married with kids and doing their own thing.”

“Sorry,” Jason told her softly. “I didn’t even think about how hard the holidays were going to be for you this year.”

“It’s OK,” she mumbled, but was frowning still.

“You miss her, huh?”

Y/N just nodded.

Jason gently took her hand that was on his thigh and placed a kiss to her knuckles. But instead of putting her hand back down, he held it with his right hand for the rest of the drive to Wayne Manor.

And she was grateful for it.

—

Jason was right: Wayne dinners were chaotic, but Wayne/Kent ordeals were even crazier.

It was a full house with Clark, Lois, Jon, and Conner. But Dick also brought Barbara with him. Meaning it was only 12 people, but it felt like three times that much with the loudness and the various boys running around.

Y/N was drinking wine with the adults when Clark looked around as if he were trying to find someone.

“Wonder when Diana’s getting here,” he thought aloud.

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Diana?”

Somehow Y/N’s confusion made Lois and Clark even more confused. The couple shared a look with one another. As did Barbara and Dick. Y/N swore even Jason suddenly tensed at her question.

“Diana Prince,” Lois took pity on her.

“Sorry. I don’t know her,” Y/N muttered.

But a few minutes later, the extravagant doorbell of the manor rang and Y/N watched as Bruce hurried to the door.

Usually he let Alfred answer. So she was now intrigued.

As she tried to observe the new guest, a new face stepped in front of Y/N, blocking her view of the front door.

“You must be Y/N,” a young man greeted with a cocky smirk.

For being half-kryptonian, Y/N expected Conner Kent to be towering over her. But it was the opposite. With her height and heeled boots, she was looking down at the young man.

“And you must be Conner,” Y/N answered, and offered her hand politely.

But her eyes kept bouncing back to her father as he talked to a woman, whose face she couldn’t fully see yet.

To her surprise, Conner took her hand gently and brought it to his lips, kissing the edge of her knuckles and then giving her a flirtatious smile.

Y/N had no choice but to give the young man her full attention with such a gesture.

“Uhhh,” she managed to laugh out.

“Way to be creepy.”

Jason.

Y/N looked over her shoulder to see that Jason had moved close behind her. He must’ve been waiting for this moment, and stayed close to her since they arrived.

“Jason,” Conner greeted with a half nod. “I was just about to tell Y/N here how beautiful I find her.”

Y/N completely ignored him, too busy staring at her father.

Jason made a grossed out noise. “Aren’t you like 12? And you look like you could be her little brother,” Jason teased as made a point to look down at Conner, making his shorter height part of the joke.

“You’ve been saying Im 12 for years now, Jason. Get a new joke.”

“Well, maybe grow the fuck up and then I’ll stop.”

Conner looked Y/N up and down. “And for the record, I don’t have a problem with women being taller than me… or older.”

But she was not at all mentally present. Otherwise she would give Conner a piece of her mind.

Jason was actually surprised she hadn’t already. Even glancing down at his girlfriend, wondering what had her so quiet.

Then he followed Y/N’s gaze and realized she was too preoccupied with watching Bruce and Diana conversing.

Jason growled, “Leer at my girlfriend like that again, and I’ll put a bullet in each of your eyes.”

Jason wasn’t always around Conner, but when he was, he wasn’t very fond of him. Jason thought Conner was cocky and far to into himself. (Why couldn’t he hate himself like the rest of their generation did?) And if Jason were really being honest, he didn’t always like that people sometimes compared the two of them to each other. On the outside, they both looked like angry men who had mommy or daddy issues.

But Jason wasn’t some clone created in a lab by an evil genius. He was born and life struck him down every chance it got since.

Conner scoffed at the threat, “Did you forget I’m Kryptonian. As if your pathetic bullets could do anything to me.”

“Half-Kryptonian,” Jason corrected, and tilted of his head. “But don’t you worry, they’re Kryptonite bullets wrapped in lead. So you wouldn’t see it coming, would you?”

“Jason!” Bruce interrupted. “We do not threaten the Kents with Kryptonite!”

Clark had walked over as well, once he heard Conner and Jason going at it.

“He doesn’t have Kryptonite bullets,” Bruce tried to tell Clark gently, as if it would remedy the situation.

“Yeah, I do,” Jason countered lazily. When Bruce looked at him, Jason just shrugged. “What? Thought you were the only one who could hunt that shit down?”

“Comforting,” Clark hummed sarcastically.

Bruce cleared his throat and stepped to the side to reveal Diana.

Y/N had been subtly eyeing the two of them this whole time.

“Y/N, I believe you’re the only one who has yet to meet Diana,” Bruce told his daughter. “Y/N, this is Diana Prince. Diana, this is my daughter, Y/N.”

Diana immediately stepped forward with a bright smile that lit up the manor. She was tall, just like Y/N. And she didn’t seem to let it stop her from wearing heels, just like Y/N.

Diana offered her hand with warmth and eagerness. “Bruce has told me so much about you, Y/N. It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

Y/N was speechless.

Why did this woman know so much about her and Y/N had never so much as heard her name before?

“Nice…to meet you,” Y/N finally managed to sputter out awkwardly.

If Diana noticed the lack of enthusiasm returned, she didn’t show it.

“If I didn’t know better,” Diana continued. “I would believe the rumors: she does look like an Amazon,” she glanced back at Bruce as she said it.

That’s when it clicked – why her face felt so familiar to Y/N.

This wasn’t just Diana Prince.

This was Wonder Woman.

Bruce’s eyes seemed to sparkle as he smirked back at Diana.

Oh.

Y/N looked around at everyone else. But no one seemed fazed by Bruce’s behavior towards this woman. Not even Lois, who often felt out of the loop with all of their loved one’s superhero lives – like Y/N.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Y/N mumbled before quickly walking away toward the bar.

She heard Jason on her heels.

“So, is alcohol going to make this worse or better?” Jason asked as he watched his girlfriend pour herself a double of tequila – no ice, no salt, or even lime juice.

“For me? Better.” She threw the shot back. “Don’t really care about everyone else right now.”

Jason wasn’t one to tell her to slow down. In fact, having his girlfriend wasted during this Thanksgiving dinner would just make it that much more entertaining. And he was not one to tell her what to do. He knew better.

“Are you going to join me or not?” Y/N snapped. “After all, you kind of owe it to me since you conveniently never told me that Bruce was in fucking love.”

Oop. There it was.

Jason was smart enough to look guilty and didn’t bother playing dumb. That never worked with Y/N.

So he took the shot of tequila from her and threw it back.

Alfred stepped into the den where everyone had ben congregating.

“Dinner is served,” he said politely, gesturing to the dining room the Waynes only used for special occasions.

Without waiting for him to finish, Y/N stormed past Jason and walked to the dining room with purpose.

“Fuck,” Jason sighed as he rubbed his face. “This should be interesting.”

He walked into the dining room to see that Damian had already sandwiched himself between Y/N and Jon. But the seat on the other side was open. Jason jumped into action when he saw Conner making his way to it.

With a light shove past him, Jason pulled out the chair to the left of Y/N and sat down. “You’re delusional,” he muttered to the superboy.

Conner just rolled his eyes and moved to the other side of the table.

Jon seemed very excited to be in the presence of Wonder Woman. Despite Superman being his literal dad, the boy seemed utterly unimpressed with his father – much to Clark’s disappointment. But once a dork, always a dork.

Jon asked his 10th rapid-fire question, “If Amazons aren’t born, how were they created?”

Diana took all the boy’s question seriously. “The goddesses decided to create a new race made entirely of female warriors from the souls of women who were killed by the hands of violent men.”

Lois finally interrupted her son before he could continue, “Jonathan, why don’t you let Diana relax and eat her food.” She gave Diana an apologetic look for good measure.

Jon took in a shaky breath and looked disappointed, but listened to his mother.

However, Diana seemed unperturbed by the boy’s excitement and appeared more than happy to humor his curiosity.

“Diana should be used to it,” Dick chimed in with a smirk on his lips. “Especially after having to deal with Jason…”

That caught Y/N’s attention.

Jason growled, “Oh, shut it, Dick.”

But Y/N was amused now. “No, please go on…”

Dick sat up straighter at the request, eyes bright with mischief and excitement. “Jason had the biggest crush on Diana when he was a kiddo.”

Jason gave Dick the biggest death glare Y/N had ever seen.

“Whenever Bruce brought him to League meetings, he’d follow her around like a little puppy. He even asked Bruce to take a picture of them when he first met her.”

“I remember that,” Diana commented with a fond smile.

Jason groaned.

“Clearly, he has a type,” Dick pointed out, looking between Diana and Y/N.

“OK. That’s enough,” Jason finally snapped.

Clark and Lois changed the subject, subtly saving Jason from further humiliation.

“Guess I have my Halloween costume for next year…” Y/N muttered into Jason’s ear so only he could hear.

But she didn’t take into account all the people with super hearing.

Jason choked on his turkey a bit, but recovered quickly.

Clark suddenly blushed, proving that he both her the couple and the sexual innuendo that Y/N had implied.

“So, Diana, how long have you known Bruce?” Y/N asked sweetly.

But everyone else at the table – beside Diana, Conner, and Jon –caught how much Y/N was playing it up. Some even shifted in their seats awkwardly.

Bruce eyed the full wine glass in Y/N’s hand, silently acknowledging that he’d noticed her heavy drinking that night.

But Y/N gave Bruce a look, daring him to say something about it.

“Well…” Diana looked at Bruce as if she needed help remembering. “We kept running into each other through…”

“Work,” Bruce finally offered.

Diana smiled. “Yes. Something like that.”

The two of them locked eyes just a little bit too long. And Y/N immediately caught it.

Just as her anger was rising, she felt Jason gently grip her thigh under the table, trying to calm her down and comfort her.

Y/N then asked, “Where do you usually spend Thanksgiving, Diana?”

It was more polite than asking, ‘Why are you here instead of with your own family?’

“Well, we do not exactly celebrate Thanksgiving in Themyscira. But it’s become one of my favorite holidays. Bruce didn’t want me to spend it alone, so he was kind enough to invite me to join all of you.”

With the amount of people at the dinner table, Y/N’s frustrations and pointed interest tin Diana were easily overlooked. With the chaos of so many conversations happening, no one seemed to get stuck on Y/N watching Bruce and Diana.

But Bruce felt Y/N’s energy. Maybe it was fatherly intuition.

The rest of dinner continued without much drama, just a bit of bickering from some of the boys. But that was nothing unusual. Y/N managed to control herself and not start a scene or express her emotions any more than she already accidentally had.

After dinner, Y/N had avoided the rest of the adults, not wanting to be forced to continue observing Bruce and Diana’a obvious relationship.

Instead, she sat playing Uno with Jon, Damian, and Conner.

Meanwhile, Jason was nerding out about literature with Lois.

As they continued playing cards, Damian caught his sister eyeing their father in the other room.

“What’s wrong with you?” Damian finally asked her bluntly.

Y/N snapped her gaze away from the couple. “W-What?”

“You’ve been short with father all night and you’re staring.”

“Do you not like Diana?” Jon asked with an upset frown.

“I like Diana,” Y/N quickly shut down, almost sounding exasperated.

Then her gaze moved to her brother. “None of this is new to any of you. They’ve been like this for awhile.”

It was mean to come out as a question, but Y/N already knew the answer: everyone in their family knew about Bruce falling in love.

Well, everyone except her.

Damian shrugged. “They’ve been…involved for awhile.”

“Awesome,” she answered sarcastically.

“It’s not as if father discussed it with any of us,” Damian tried to defend. “It was just rather obvious.”

“So everyone’s known about this…except me,” Y/N muttered quietly.

But Damian caught the anger in her eyes.

“How long?” She asked.

“What?”

“How long has this been going on?”

Damian shrugged. “I don’t know. Six months? But they’ve always flirted with one another. It’s disgusting.”

The next second, Conner won that round of cards.

“Alright, kiddos,” Y/N sighed as she got up. “I’m out.”

“You’re leaving?” Damian blurted out, catching Jason’s attention.

“Yep.”

Damian quickly stood. “But we haven’t even had pie yet!”

Jason moved to his girlfriend’s side, reading that she needed out. “She doesn’t really like pie, Demond Spawn.”

“Who doesn’t love pie!?” Jon cried out in shock.

Y/N and Jason started saying their goodbyes to everyone, giving warm hugs. And they purposely avoided Bruce and Diana until the end.

Jason immediately saw Y/N’s posture shift. He recognized it all too well. He had been on the receiving end of such coldness a few times before – and mostly he was just relieved not to be this time around.

Y/N forced a polite smile at Diana. “It was nice meeting you, Diana.”

But she didn’t step forward to offer a hug like she had with the rest of them.

Diana didn’t seem to mind. She was smart enough to pick up on the strange tension between Bruce and his daughter.

So she simply answered with, “It was nice meeting you, too.”

Y/N then shifted her gaze to her father. But it wasn’t really a gaze anymore, but a cold and harsh glare. “Thanks for having us,” she told Bruce evenly, no warmth to be found.

Y/N walked away before Bruce even had a chance to answer.

Diana gave him a sympathetic look.

Jason was left alone with the couple now and glared at Bruce. “You couldn’t give her a heads up?”

Bruce said nothing, which only made Jason angrier.

“Today was already tough for her. It’s the first thanksgiving she’s spent without her mom. But you probably didn’t even realize that.” He scoffed, “Typical.”

But his eyes softened when they moved to Diana and Jason gave her a quick hug. “Nice seeing you, Diana.”

Then he was gone, too.

Diana crossed her arms and faced her boyfriend. “I take it you never told Y/N about us.”

Bruce shifted his weight and his head bowed a bit. “No. I did not.”

“Bruce,” Diana sighed, shaking her head in disappointment.

——————

2 Weeks Later...

Y/N was driving Damian back to the manor. The two of them had decided to go see a new exhibit at Gotham’s Museum of Art.

“Are you still mad at father?” Damian asked while they listened to his favorite classical music.

Y/N sighed.

Damian had been distracted enough by all the art and getting to spend time alone with his sister that the tension from Thanksgiving hadn’t been brought up. Until now.

Jason had been treading carefully, as well.

“I didn’t know he hadn’t said anything to you. Honestly. It had just – I don’t know – become the norm for the rest of us, that I didn’t even think to bring it up,” he had insisted during the drive home after the strange Thanksgiving dinner.

Y/N had answered back, “I’m not mad at you, Jason. It’s not your job to give me updates on Bruce’s personal life.” And she had been sincere – furthermore, that extended to everyone else that had known about Bruce and Diana’s relationship.

“A little bit, yeah,” Y/N finally admitted to Damian after thinking about her answer for a few seconds.

“I think Dick may have said something to him,” he told her. “Jason’s just been mean.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” When Y/N was upset, Jason was upset. And if he knew the person who hurt her, he would go out of his way to torment them.

They pulled up to the main entrance of the manor.

“Pennyworth told me he has pastries for you and Jason,” Damian explained, clearly have been forced to relay the message.

Y/N sighed, but smiled, putting her car in park and turning off the ignition.

She followed her brother up the steps to the front door, to which he had keys for.

But just as he opened the door, Diana was leaving.

“Oh…hi,” Y/N blurted out while Damian moved around her with a simple, “Hi.”

The two women were left alone in awkward silence.

“I owe you an apology,” Y/N finally said softly. “For being rude to you on Thanksgiving. I was upset but it may have been misdirected.”

Diana gave her a sympathetic look. “No apology needed. After I realized Bruce had not told you about us, I truly believe your reaction was justified.”

Y/N finally relaxed. “Thank you for…understanding.”

Diana stepped a little closer and lowered her voice. “I think he wishes to speak with you.”

She sighed. “I’m sure he does. I have a knack for making him feel bad.”

Diana laughed. “I think you and I have that in common.” She stood up straight again. “It was nice seeing you again, Y/N. I hope we can get to know each other more now.”

Y/N smiled. “I would like that, yeah.”

And with that, she was gone.

Y/N tried to walk quietly to the kitchen. Her plan was to grab Alfred's pastries and get out of there. While she had no beef with Diana, she was still frustrated with Bruce.

The universe clearly had other plans, since Y/N walked into the kitchen to find Bruce eating a late lunch.

“Is there even any pastries?” Y/N asked. "I feel like I’ve been conned.”

Bruce couldn’t help but smirk at his daughter. “Alfred has many talents. I wouldn’t put it past him.” Then he got up and handed her a glass container with her and Jason’s name on it.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Bruce continued.

Y/N sighed. “Yeah, I could tell by all the phone calls and texts.”

“And the reason for not answering those?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I was mad at you and being petty.”

“And are you still mad at me?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Bruce took in a deep breath. “I should have told you about Diana.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Y/N spat back.

“I wasn’t thinking.”

That was the wrong thing for him to say.

“See, now that’s bullshit, Bruce.”

He seemed taken aback by her response.

Y/N crossed her arms in defiance. “Because you’re always thinking. You’ve always got a plan. And you don’t do anything without intention. So you were thinking.”

“You’re right,” Bruce confessed.

“I know I’m right,” she shot back. “Do you have any idea how it made me feel to see that everyone knew about you and her, except me?”

Bruce stayed quiet. Because he didn’t know.

“I’m not a vigilante, Bruce! You and Jason have kept me away from that part of all your lives – and I’ve respected that. But Batman is so much of you, despite all of us trying to prevent that.”

Y/N ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not mad that you’re dating Diana, Bruce. I’m mad that it’s one of the few things about your life that you can share with me and you decided you didn’t need to – or want to – honestly, I don’t even know anymore.”

“You’re right, Y/N. And I’m sorry,” Bruce finally said. “If I’m being honest, I probably wouldn’t have said anything to the boys either. Clearly they figured it out since they saw it happening in real time. But that’s not an excuse for blindsiding you like I did.”

Y/N took in a deep breath, trying to figure out if she should ream him further or let it go.

“Jason told me you were already upset before coming to Thanksgiving.” Bruce’s voice was gently. “Missing your mom.”

That took Y/N by surprise. “Umm…Yeah. I always miss her…but the holidays are…rougher than I expected, I guess.”

“Y/N… you know, you can talk to me about her. I might not have seen her in quite some time before she passed. But I still knew and cared for your mother.”

Y/N knew Bruce was right. He was one of the few people in her life who knew her mother. And maybe it would be nice to remember her with someone who also knows just how amazing she was.

Y/N was getting emotional as she thought about it, so she just nodded to his offer. And then she realized that wasn’t enough and pushed forward to give her father a hug.

“Think Jason will ease up on the animosity now?” Bruce asked as he hugged her, causing Y/N to laugh.

She could only imagine the rude comments and sass Jason had been giving Bruce during patrols.

She pulled away with a smile. “I honestly don’t know. He gets a kick out of it. And you know how overprotective he is with me. But I’ll do what I can.”

–––––––––

Please let me write me a book report. I need it.

[justakiro]

✧KABEDONED

⌘TWISTED WONDERLAND

✧GENDER NEUTRAL READER (TALL)

Small a/n: basically them getting kabedoned by you! Hope u enjoy.

Be warned that this may be a bit ooc since I don't actually play the game.

Ft. Riddle, Leona, Malleus, Idia

RIDDLE:

Poor Riddle just walking peacefully until a student 'accidentally' fired off a spell which coincidentally was targeted at him

Luckily his beloved savior was there and managed to pull him backwards to dodge the spell!

What both of you didn't expect was to tumble both together to the floor faces inches apart from each other

You were above him both of your hands pinning him down on the floor, he could hear you breathing right beside his ear while both of you were on the ground

You swear you could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest while he was scrambling to get out of this situation with his face red as his hair

The poor student who accidentally fired off the spell was collared and greeted with a red face Riddle who was both flustered and angry

LEONA:

Was it just you or was Leona being extra pestering this day?

Leona would pamper and tease you much more than normal and it was getting on your nerves

You tried to recall what you did to make him do things he wouldn't normally do but nothing came across your mind

This went on for days until you finally got tired of him and pinned him to a nearby wall where no students can be seen

You were towering over him with your gaze, one of your hand slammed towards the wall making it slightly shake cornering Leona by the wall

You snapped back to reality a few seconds later, your cheeks being red from what you just did

You quickly apologized to a shocked Leona and ran as fast as you could back to your dorm

Leona would stand there a bit of red in his cheeks but with a cocky grin. He smirked, a bit more amused to see you again after this.

MALLEUS:

You may be tall, but Malleus is a giant, so just imagine a confused Malleus pinned to the wall in a private area

You had amazing rizz, gotta respect that.

Would most likely ask Lilia about this and be even more confused when Lilia laughs it off

Humans have such weird flirting strategies

If he does find out, he will pull a reverse card and try it on you, he will be a bit hesitant at first since this is a foreign thing for him. But nevers hurts to try something new

Is satisfied when he sees you flustered or embarrassed and will do it again

IDIA:

Cocky motherfucker

He surprisingly sometimes gets on your nerves on his little sassy and judgmental comments

Now picture you and idia, body inches away from each other, with some random imaginary flowers falling and love music playing in the background

His hair would immediately go pink while squirming, it suprises you sometimes that this is the same idia.

He's be so confused and flustered on why we are like in an anime or otome game, and why is he the 'weak damsel' in this position. He would've preferred if he was the big one you know? But, in the bottom of his heart, he didn't mind this position.

When you finally realized what your doing and retract your arm, idia is on the floor, hood up knees close to him and begging for the darkness to swallow him.

An note//: Yeah im gonna start uploading more frequently this time. Capice

[hotpinkboots]

More tall business wife pleassssee!!! She's so silly (and I also want her to crush me)

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ | (Insanely)Tall!Business woman!Wife x GN!Reader: When She's Jealous

"They're...You know. Taken care of,"

Warning(s): Yandere tendencies, murder (not graphic), she hired assassins oh geez, jealousy, she's silly tho, Super Cool Awesome Tall Wife loves you a little too much oops

All images from Pinterest

~~~

~Jealous? Who's jealous? She wouldn't marry someone she thought to be unfaithful. She doesn't have TIME to be jealous. She doesn't care enough to be jealous.

...

She's jealous.

~She's jealous because someone else likes you, not because you like someone else. They get all stupid and tongue-tied about you.

~She tells you the moment she feels even a bit of an angry twinge in her heart. Of course she has perfect communication skills; she's the boss of practically everything. She's not afraid to be upfront.

~"That person who spoke to you exactly 1.2 hours ago fancies you," she pointed out as she removed her earrings, placing them perfectly back into their velvet case. She sounded unbothered- just bringing it to your attention.

"Exactly 1- What?" You were dumbfounded at her ability to keep perfect track of time. "...Oh. Them. They were acting a bit weird, I guess."

~Now you know. There shouldn't be any more problems now that you're aware.

~...Or not. They flirted with you the other day.

~They flirted. With you. With her lover. What nerve they have, to be fully aware that she runs everything, and to continue flirting with the person who she openly called her beloved.

~Luckily, nobody has ever lived long enough to get in her way or cause her grief. People weren't usually stupid enough to go behind the back of a 13 foot tall woman with an IQ that might've been even taller than she was.

~But she's not impulsive, no...Getting rid of them would make it obvious that it was her. She's too refined to be so impulsive. When your wife gets rid of someone, it's done with poise, secrecy, and intelligence. She doesn't even need to risk chipping a nail.

~Not only that, but she hardly knows the person. She wouldn't get rid of somebody without good reason or knowing them. Who knows, they might be useful to her.

~She doesn't stew over it because she knows she has the power to stop it- That is, until they get a bit too close to you one day and look into your eyes too deeply.

~She's watching when it happens. Her face is ominously devoid of any emotion whatsoever when she sees it. Shadows seemed to grow darker around her.

~A few days later, you see her bending down to pass out glorious, expensive jewels to a group of men in black. She spoke to them so proudly, telling them what a grand job they did and how she'll most definitely hire them in the future if anybody else bothers her.

~You never saw that person again. You didn't ask her about it. There was a mutual understanding- and perhaps her actions even made you feel comforted.

~That night, you sat on her bed with her, like usual. She was holding your hand in hers, marveling at how her hands engulfed yours easily. Your wife looked enamoured about it.

~"Beloved, look. Have you ever paid attention to this? That's adorable-"

Courage struck you all of a sudden, and you interrupted. "What happened to them?" You asked curiously, looking up into her large eyes.

She blinked. "Who? Who's "them"," She (obviously) faked.

You snorted in amusement.

"Fine. They're...you know. Taken care of," your wife emphasized nothing, stating it like they were on vacation and not dead.

~~~

~Love, HotPinkBoots

[ridreamir]

Nebarra is ugly. His hair is a tawny brown, not the illustrious flaxen blond of his brother nor the prettiest of Altmer boys and girls growing up. For a mer, he's short. Sure, he stands on par with a man, but that means little in the eyes of his people. He's not a perfect golden. He's muddy. Off-color.

He's scarred. He has all the tells of a weak mer. Conscripted as a foot-soldier. Discarded after fighting in a disaster war when he was but a boy. Scorched in the deserts and haunted by those that will never get to see the peaceful future they've all fought so hard for.

That peaceful future that he's given up hope for. He's never been the pride of his family. And still, the perfect sheen of each septim he pockets in a pristine white envelope to be shipped off back home mocks him.

He dons himself in golden elven armor. The symbolism of divine light and perfection. And yet underneath, there's nothing but dirt. Forgive me mother, father. I am so tired of not being the mer you wished me to be. He glides a finger over the smooth curve of a near-empty bottle of weak swivel, a hint of winterberry and a tinge of hops. And now he has to play second-fiddle to the supposed reincarnated savior of man and Mundus.

What irony. The ugliest part about him, then, is how he's found himself wanting to believe that it's true.

Save me again, please.

[ambersweets134]

I'm currently dying inside

[moonstruckme]

hi lovely! can u write a one shot of poly!marauders with a tall fem reader? reader is the same height as rem but taller than James and sirius? thank you, it mean a lot bc there’s never really any tall readers!! <33

Thanks for requesting my love!

poly!marauders x tall!reader ♡ 840 words

“You look great,” James insists, sitting on the bed to pull his shoes on. 

Remus huffs, fiddling with his tie. “I look like a prick. I’m not made for posh clothes.” 

“Yes, you are,” you say, walking over and moving his hands aside to straighten his tie yourself. “James is right, you look handsome. Just because you’re not used to wearing a suit doesn’t mean it doesn’t look good on you.” You straighten his lapels, pressing a kiss to his frowny lips. 

“Yeah, it actually really suits you,” James says, laughing at his own joke. 

Remus scoffs, but his lips twitch. 

“Anyway, you can’t wear one of your sweaters to a formal event.” Sirius rolls his eyes, tying his own tie with practiced ease. “Then you’d really look like a prick, and horrifically out of place.” He looks at you, giving your dress an appreciative up-down. “Looking good, gorgeous…are those the shoes you’re wearing?” 

You glance down at your simple black ballet flats. “I was planning on it, why?” 

Sirius frowns, striding over to your side of the closet. “They’re not bad, but I thought you had some that would go better…here.” He squats, digging out a pair of heels. “Why don’t you wear these?” 

You feel your lips purse in distaste. You’d bought those shoes while riding the rush of a spontaneous and fleeting boldness. You haven’t worn them other than to try them on after you’d left the store. You’re taller than James and Sirius barefooted, but heels have you looking down upon all three of your boyfriends. You already feel too tall sometimes, and those shoes only make it worse, more noticeable; it feels like you’re taking up more than your fair share of space. 

“You want me towering over you all night?” you ask Sirius teasingly. “Jamie, why is this dinner so formal anyway?”

“Beats me.” He shrugs. “Guess they want to make it seem like a bigger deal. Or more official, or whatever.” 

“It is a big deal,” Remus says, sitting down next to James and toying with his curls. “You nearly won the world cup, love, that deserves a big event.” He looks at you. “And nobody minds you towering over us, darling. Wear the shoes if you like them.” 

You though you’d left that topic behind. “I don’t know,” you say, eyeing them in Sirius’ hand. “I don’t know if I feel like it.” 

Sirius holds them out to you. “Just try them on and see, yeah? I think they’ll really complement the dress.” 

You try not to sulk as you take them, sitting down on the bed to put them on. When you stand, you feel immediately awkward. It’s like you’re a lamppost rather than a girl. 

Sirius doesn’t seem to notice, whistling appreciatively. “Fuck, babe. Your legs look great in those.” 

You look down as though to fact-check him. Your dress doesn’t show much, but the heels do make the muscles in your calves more pronounced. Still, that’s hardly your priority. “I don’t know,” you say again. “I feel weird.” 

Remus tilts his head at you. “Why’s that?” 

You shrug, crossing your arms in front of you. “I just don’t know if I like being this tall,” you say. “People always stare at me when I wear heels.” 

“I’ll bet they do.” James raises his eyebrows at you. “You look killer, angel.” 

Your shoulders gravitate towards your ears, and you flush. 

“You do,” Remus affirms. “You should wear whatever makes you feel best, but if you’re not wearing heels because you get some extra attention…well, so what?” You blink, unused to such bluntness from him. “You’re lovely, and people are going to stare at you regardless. It’s up to you, of course, but I think you should lean into it.” 

Your heart constricts dramatically at the thought, but you force yourself to consider it, because honestly, Remus does sound sort of reasonable. It wouldn’t hurt you to begin working towards feeling more confident in heels, and a sit-down dinner seems like a decent place to start. 

Sirius offers you a hand, helping you up from the bed and guiding you over to the mirror. 

“You’re a fucking knockout, babe,” he says, and while his voice is light, there’s no hint of his usual teasing. “Wear what you want, but know that you look just as hot in heels as you always do.” 

You hesitate. “You don't mind that I’m so much taller than all of you in them?”

James makes a dismissive noise. “No complaints here,” he says. 

You look at Sirius, the shortest of the boys, but he only cocks an eyebrow at you. “I’m just getting closer and closer to tit level, sweetness.” You let out a shocked laugh, and he grins wolfishly. “Wear heels as tall as you like.” 

You roll your eyes. Lean into it, Remus had said. Okay. You can do that. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you say, heels clicking as you head for the door. “Move those little legs of yours, we’re going to be late.” 

[aithorin]

Dinner and Dessert - Lady Dimitrescu x Reader - Part 2 (18+)

Synopsis: Hidden within the safety of the kitchens, you’ve been one of the lucky few to escape the notice of Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters while under their employ. Yet when a shortage of staff brings you out of the kitchens, you quickly yet unknowingly catch the attention of Lady Dimitrescu. Things come to a head when you are called to her chambers one night on the order of serving her a private dinner.

NSFW Warning!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47663530/chapters/120139672

A/N: Part 2 of 2. Part 1 is here.

Suddenly, she was everywhere, and you didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or sick to your stomach. While the head maid found a replacement by the very next day, relieving you of your serving duties and allowing you to remain in the safety of the kitchens, it was as though everything had changed. And perhaps it had, for she had seen you now, and after your less than stellar first impression, you couldn’t help but feel that she wasn’t too keen to forget it. 

Though you didn’t venture far from the kitchens very often, everytime you did, without fail, Lady Dimitrescu just happened to be passing by. And despite your efforts to remain as invisible as possible, she always seemed to notice you, beckoning you to her side as she spoke in that absolutely enchanting voice, “Ah (y/n), darling, I almost didn’t see you. Walk with me.” 

And well, who were you to refuse? Each time, you’d slowly approach her, nerves forcing you to keep a polite distance as you walked beside her. Yet as she began to engage you in light conversation, you’d gradually drift closer, drawn to the sound of her voice and filled by an unconscious need to drown in it. You hardly even noticed what was happening until it was too late.  It was only when her hand would snake its way down the length of your spine, drawing soft and - dare you say it, teasing circles before finally settling on the small of your back that you’d stiffen in realization. As she continued to guide you down the hall, it would become a struggle to answer even her simplest questions, mind painfully aware of her touch. The heady scent of her perfume that would permeate the air did little to help matters. Your mind would become a cloud of confusion as your thoughts raced to discern her intentions, and just when you’d begin to rationalize everything, you’d feel her hand dip lower to brush against the curve of your ass before sliding back into its original position. The touch would be so quick and so light that sometimes you’d wonder if you’d just imagined it. But then, it would happen again, once, twice, maybe even three times throughout the short period of your walk together, and well, there was no way you’d allow yourself to daydream that much, especially in the presence of the one woman you wanted to make a good impression on. Surely one of them had to be real. And the way you’d stumble out of shock after each one, followed by a rush of heat to your cheeks (from the humiliation of embarrassing yourself in front of your mistress or the touches themselves you didn’t know), well those were certainly real. After each brief touch, your immediate instinct would be to question if Lady Dimitrescu herself was even aware of what she was doing. Yet as soon as the thought entered your mind, you’d harshly scold yourself, shocked at your own audacity to even think your Mistress could be making moves on you when you were no more than a lowly maid, nay glorified dishwasher. It simply couldn’t be possible. In all honesty, the thought that Lady Dimitrescu had any idea of what she was doing was laughable. Each touch was nothing more than a slip of the hand, which certainly wasn’t hard to believe considering her height. She likely couldn’t see the exact location of her hand, hence the fleeting yet frequent touches. It was an explanation that never failed to cement itself as truth in your mind by the time the walks were over. The fact that nothing ever came of the touches only solidified its certainty, for as soon as your paths diverged, her touch would disappear as quickly as it came. She’d leave you behind without a backward glance, offering you no more than a crooning “lovely as always, dear” with a wave of the hand as she left you to stare dumbly at her retreating back. As she turned the corner and disappeared completely, you’d at last be released from your trance of bewilderment and free to resume work. 

However, that by no means meant you were able to do a good job. In the hours that followed after these encounters, such as the one you’d experienced earlier that day, your mind wandered frequently. It’d turn the events of your stroll together over, trying to make sense of the complete oddity of them, for as much as you outwardly accepted your conjured explanations, your subconscious found they left much to be desired, often forcing you to return and comb through the memories. Your mind struggled in vain to attain clarity, yet frustration inevitably led you to give up in utter defeat. From there, you’d turn to thoughts that did make sense, almost all of which focused solely upon the mistress herself. The day, and subsequently your work, slipped away as you fantasized about her, languishing in the memory of the feel of her hand, the lilt of her voice, her golden eyes as they connected with yours. It was often enough to invoke a madness of a completely different sort. 

Coincidentally, it was also enough to make you really bad at your job, and the memories of today's encounter were no exception to this effect. For it was only when the harsh call of your name jolted you back into reality that the soapy plate you’d been washing for god knows how long slipped out of your hand, crashing (yet thankfully not shattering) to the floor with a resounding bang .  

As the plate spun round and round, refusing to settle down, you turned, expecting to be scolded (a common occurrence these days). Instead, you’re met with the sight of the head maid again, which causes a wave of dread and apprehension to cover you from head to toe. This couldn’t be good. You hadn’t talked to her, or for that matter even seen her, since that night. There were scant few reasons that could possibly drive her to voluntarily seek you out, and with it being so close to dinner, you felt confident (hatefully so) in which one it was. 

Before confirming your fears though, the head maid made sure to berate you, evidently nowhere near as rushed as she had been the night she’d first talked to you. Hands on her hips, her lips pursed in displeasure as she harked, “Goodness, child, I’ve been calling your name for five minutes now! Where in the world is your head?”

Embarrassment surged through your body at her words. You bowed your head in shame, limp hands clasped loosely at your stomach. When you could offer no more than murmured apologies, the head maid let out an exasperated sigh, deciding to let the subject as well as her arms drop. “Well, no matter. I’ve got your attention now.” She said.

Once those words left her lips, the air shifted, turning somber and serious. She leveled with you, making sure to hold your gaze. The action was enough to cause you to stiffen, eyes widening as a shiver of cold fear rattled down your back. You were certain of what was coming, certain of what she was going to ask you to do, and absolutely certain it was going to end in your doom. The head maid seemed to sense your apprehension, for she paused. Silence prevailed for a few moments as she granted you one last mercy, one last glimpse of freedom. But then, that mercy was shattered. 

“Judging by your expression,” She continued, talking slowly yet sympathetically, “I’m sure you’ve realized why I’ve come. If not, then then I’ll not take the time to spare your feelings, for there’s simply no easy way to put this: the Mistress has requested to dine privately in her chambers tonight, and I’ve been tasked with relaying that you’ll be the one to serve her.”

The Mistress? Dining privately ? That-that was simply unheard of, for it was well-known that the daughters insisted on eating with their mother and, perhaps even more so, that the Mistress’ boundless affection for them kept her obliged to their every wish, not least of which was that one. What reason could she have to forsake them now by dining in her chambers? 

The whole situation filled you with unease and left you eager to have no part of it. Yet you were barely even able to open your mouth to protest before the head maid held a hand up. You stopped short, mouth left gaping and silent, as the head maid admonished, “I’ll have none of that now. There is no way out of this. The Mistress has requested you personally, and I’ll not be the one to disobey a direct order.” 

You could do no more than nod mutely, too overcome with dread. The Mistress specifically asked for you? Whatever in the world could have possibly led her to request you, of all people, to serve her? Had you been naive to think you’d escaped her wrath that first night? Had she just been toying with you this whole time, using your walks as a way to lure you into a sense of false security? Was the Mistress at last going to punish you for your abhorrent behavior that night? You let out an audible gulp of fear at that thought. 

It won’t come to that, you thought. Shaking your head, you steered your mind away from the gruesome images of your maimed body it insisted on conjuring yet still found no reprieve. For even if the Mistress had no underlying motivations for requesting you, there was still the matter of being in her presence alone to deal with. It was hard enough to make it through your five-minute walks without transforming into an infatuated, love-drunk fool. How in the world were you supposed to keep your composure for an entire dinner!? The simple answer: you wouldn’t be able to. One look from her and you’d be reduced to a stuttering, blushing mess. 

However, the head maid was right. You couldn’t ignore a direct order from the Mistress. And so, it was with a heavy heart that you resigned yourself to your fate, knowing that either death or disgrace awaited you. 

The light touch of a hand pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked down to see the head maid guiding your arm onto the nearby serving cart that was stacked high with silver plated dishes. Patting your hand, she let go, offering no more than a simple “off you go.” A sad smile accompanied it, as though the head maid knew it was unlikely you’d live to see the next morning. The image imprinted itself on your mind, heightening your sense of impending doom as you began the trek to the Mistress’ chambers. 

The halls were empty as you traversed down them, nothing but the occasional squeak from the cart and the echo of your footsteps to break the endless void of silence. It was as though everyone had scattered, leaving the castle to hold its breath while it waited for your demise. 

Despite your trepidation, you trudged on and soon arrived at the ornate oak doors that marked the entrance to Lady Dimitrescu’s chambers. They loomed overhead, the intricate carvings taking on a monstrous face that multiplied your fear tenfold. Letting out a shaky breath, you knocked thrice in quick succession, calling out, “I’ve arrived with your meal, your Ladyship.”

A simple enter came floating through the door in Lady Dimitrescu’s soft lilting tones. At once, your fear seemed to dissipate, soothed by the sound of her voice as well as the fact that it was decidedly not angry. A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and with it, the bestial doors settled back into their dormant state. The click of the latch rose through the air followed by the low groan of the aged doors as you stepped across the threshold. 

Plates rattled on the serving cart as you fully entered into the room. Lady Dimitrescu sat at her desk, adorned in a pair of reading glasses. Guided by the warm light of a tabletop lamp, she poured over a set of documents, spread out neatly across the desk’s surface. For many moments, the scribble of her ballpoint pen was the sole sound to fill the air. Sometimes, it was accompanied by the shuffle of papers as she swiveled her head between documents. She didn’t acknowledge you, and with each moment that passed, your uncertainty grew. You shuffled to the side, hugging the wall opposite of her and standing awkwardly as you awaited her command. 

At last, her pen paused, and she looked up for the first time since you’d entered the room. Her burning golden eyes penetrated your gaze to make you feel as though mere inches separated you. You sharply inhaled. Tension snapped into place, drawn taut and thick. And for a singular moment, your deepest desires were laid bare, conveyed only through your eyes. But then, before you could tell if she had seen, it burst. A small, amused smile tugged at the corner of the Mistress’ mouth, causing confusion to bloom up. She peered knowingly over the rim of her glasses, smirk widening at the sight of the baffled furrow of your eyebrow. 

“I just need to finish up a few small details with the ledger.” She said, “You can begin setting up while I do so.”

She lifted one elegant, gloved finger to the left, and your eyes followed, landing on a rectangular table. It was modest in size, able to seat no more than two comfortably at opposite ends. A merlot red table cloth draped along the length of it, falling low enough to brush one’s lap while still leaving the intricate woodwork of the table legs visible. Somehow, in your utter incompetence as a servant, you had missed sight of it completely. 

Your cheeks burned in mortification. Jumping into action, you hurriedly began to set the table, working twice as fast to make up for lost time. Covered dishes flowed freely from the serving cart to the table as you danced around the perimeter of it. Plates and silverware followed quickly after, arranged in the meticulous pattern so-favored by nobles. After that, two candles were inserted into the centerpiece adorned in greenery and freshly picked roses. You struck a match pulled from your apron pocket, delicately shielding it as you went to light the wicks. 

Yet no sooner had you done so than a shadow appeared, engulfing the warm light given off by the fresh flames as it stretched across the length of the table. You craned your neck up to find Lady Dimitrescu looming over you, surveying your work. But then, her gaze snapped to you, burning with mysterious intensity. You stiffened, tension instantly crackling once more through the air. Only this time, it was you to break it. You stood with your eyes wide, unable to blink and unable to breathe as you drowned in the blazing depths of her gaze. Yet when your need for oxygen could no longer be denied, you released the breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding, eyes sliding away from hers as you gasped for air. 

The moment broke and brought with it a wave of unknown embarrassment. Feeling as though you could no longer face her, you scurried around the table, keeping your head bowed, to pull out a chair for Lady Dimitrescu. You could feel her gaze bearing into you, yet you refused to acknowledge it. Your head remained low with your hands clasped in your middle. The silence stretched, becoming long and unbearably heavy. 

Yet at last, the weight of her gaze lifted. The rhythmic clack of her heels followed soon after, shattering the silence completely as well as whatever had just transpired. Your embarrassment melted away and sank through the previous layers of tension, slicing through everything to leave nothing at all. It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. The moment boiled down, erasing all evidence that anything had ever occurred at all and shifted the atmosphere into one of normalcy by the time the Mistress reached you. 

You curtsied as Lady Dimitrescu settled into her chair. Once seated, you stepped up to the table to begin serving the first course. “Thank you dear” Lady Dimitrescu said, reaching forward to grasp onto your hand that was now within arms reach, “Everything looks lovely.”

As she said this, her hand slid up the length of your arm before descending once more to briefly clasp your hand, giving it one gentle squeeze before dropping completely. Though her touch was fleeting, it seared itself upon your skin. Excitement rippled throughout your body as images of her hands elsewhere, on your hips, on your thighs, everywhere, flashed throughout your mind.  

Cheeks burning, you averted your gaze. “I-I’m glad it’s to your liking, Mistress.” You murmured, “If you require anything of me at all, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” 

“There is one more thing.” Lady Dimitrescu began. Her voice drew your attention, and you watched, transfixed, as one sleek, glove-covered hand passively gestured toward the plate of still steaming food. She continued, “Would you mind terribly, dear? These small utensils make it awfully tedious to eat my meals, and my hands are quite cramped from all the work I’ve had to take care of today. I think you’ll be much better suited to the task tonight.”

Eyes squinting in confusion, you remained silent as you struggled to sort through her words. Yet even after the implications of her request began to sink in, words continued to evade you as confusion gave way to shock, leaving you unable to do more than stare dumbly ahead. Was-was she asking you to feed her? A cursory glance in her direction confirmed that, yes, that was exactly what she wanted you to do. 

Panic settled in quick and heavy. There was no way you could do that. And yet, how could you refuse? The head maid would have your head if you did anything to invoke the Mistress’ ire. But still, the idea of feeding the Mistress was too familiar, too intimate . Merely imagining it had heat flushing throughout your cheeks. You feared your already fragile composure would completely shatter if you were to comply with her wishes, dragging your mind down with it. You’d be reduced to a blabbering, nervous fool, spouting absolute nonsense as you desperately tried to conceal the overwhelming feelings of attraction incited by her proximity. You had to find a way out of this. Now. Before you humiliated yourself beyond repair. 

As though she could sense your hesitation, Lady Dimitrescu interrupted the frenzied flow of your thoughts. “Well?” She prompted, arching a singular eyebrow as if daring you to protest, “You know I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Yes, of course Mistress, it’s just…” You stammered, trailing off in a desperate attempt to stall for time. Eyes flitting around the room, you frantically floundered for a way out. The seconds ticked by, and the air grew thick and heavy, urging you to concede defeat as your efforts continued to prove fruitless. But then, a realization hit, for there was a problem. A big problem to be precise: the Mistress currently occupied the only chair in the room. 

And in that problem lied your salvation, for you wouldn’t be able to feed her without a chair of some sort. She was simply too tall. Filled with renewed hope, you continued where you left off. “Chairs!” You blurted, calming marginally afterwards, “There aren’t any other chairs, my lady, so where am I supposed to sit?”

As though she had been waiting for those exact words to escape your lips, Lady Dimitrescu smirked triumphantly at your exclamation, causing your stomach to churn as nerves slithered up your spine. She looked you right in the eye, your confidence withering in the face of her own, before sealing your fate with a wave of her hand. 

“Right here, of course.” Lady Dimitrescu drawled, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, as she gestured at her lap.

You choked on her words, eyes bulging out of your head. Sit on the Mistress’ lap!? It was simultaneously your worst nightmare and wildest fantasy come to life. 

What in the world was the Mistress thinking? There was no denying she was playing some sort of game; you just didn’t know what it was. She was toying with you, much too easily. It was clear that you weren’t even a player in whatever this was. You were just a mere pawn for her to move about the board as she pleased, no more than a slave to her whims. Your unease grew with that realization. How were you supposed to get out of this when she was already two steps ahead of you? 

There was only one answer: defiance. If you couldn’t play the game, then you’d halt its progress altogether, and that meant keeping your distance. But how? What excuse could you possibly give for her to accept such direct insolence? Propriety! Though she’d already thrown most of it out the window, the basis of proprietary was the best option. You could only hope that what meager bits were left would be enough to assuage her. 

Taking a deep breath, your mouth parted to decline her request. Yet before your own voice could be heard, Lady Dimitrescu’s rang strong through the air. “I do hope you weren’t about to object dear, “ She interjected, a clear threat concealed behind her crooning dulcet tones, “I would hate to have to punish you.”

You deflated immediately, all thoughts of protest purged from your mind as you didn’t fancy dying tonight. Or any night really. You’d have to take your chances and play right into her hand. There was no other choice. 

Body slumping in defeat, you mumbled, “O-of course not, Mistress.” 

You shuffled towards her, nerves flaring. Anxiety settled thick and heavy in your stomach, clogging up your throat in the process. Yet as you began to climb into Lady Dimitrescu’s lap, fear quickly gave way to desire as your hand made contact with her dress. The thin material left little to the imagination as your fingers molded perfectly around the curvature of her thigh. Excitement sparked, and your breath hitched, heartbeat thundering in your chest. Images of your hands elsewhere flashed unbidden throughout your mind, fueled by a desperate longing to trace the entire length of her body and commit every valley and ridge to memory. 

Oh, this was going to be so much harder than you thought. 

Settling into her lap, you attempted to distract yourself by focusing on your breathing. Drawing a deep breath, it proved to have the complete opposite effect as the heady scent of Lady Dimitrescu’s perfume flooded your senses. It pulled you in closer, enveloping your mind in a haze that beckoned you to lose yourself in her. And you did. For a moment, she was all you were aware of as you were unable to think beyond how utterly divine she smelled. God, what I’d give to drown in that scent. 

Unconsciously, your body began to tilt forward, eager to fulfill that wish. At the same time, Lady Dimitrescu placed a steadying hand across your waist, jolting you back to reality and to the distressing situation at hand. Your back went ramrod straight at her touch, the soft flesh of your abdomen burning beneath her fingertips. The Mistress’ hot breath ghosted across the nape of your neck, causing your own to hitch in response, as her lips came to rest against the shell of your ear. “After you, my dear.” She whispered sensuously, one black gloved hand coming into your peripheral to gesture at the food in front of you.

You fought back a full body shudder, desperate to conceal the effect she had on your body. You nodded, raising trembling hands to grab the fork and knife. You melted before her watchful eye, movements becoming sluggish as you began to slice the prepared steak into thin pieces painfully slow. Your mind drowned in the heat emanating between the press of your bodies, torn between instinct and logic. You couldn’t think. It was all too much. 

Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you stabbed a piece of meat before twisting your body to face Lady Dimitrescu. By this point the tremble in your hands had given way to a noticeable shake, and your breath stuttered as you began to lift the bite towards her mouth. You refused to look her in the eye, certain you would combust under the full intensity of her gaze, so you settled for her lips, coated in her signature red. You watched, pupils blown wide, as they descended toward your outstretched hand, thrown into fantasies of her lips on your skin. The heat of her tongue laving across the curve of your neck, her teeth lightly nipping at the tender flesh. The image had you clenching your legs as a wave of arousal coated your panties. Mortification rushed through you, desperately hoping that the Mistress didn’t feel it.

Your attention flicked back to her just in time to see her wrap her lips around the fork, tongue first. Tugging the bite off achingly slow, her eyes arrested yours, leaving you breathless as you watched utterly transfixed. She smiled around the fork, amused by something unknown to you, and your cunt throbbed in response as more slick gushed out of you. 

Yet you continued to watch, dumbfounded, as she pulled away. Straightening, she gave an appreciative hum that rattled through you before she swallowed, the movement drawing your eyes to her throat as you followed the bite downward to settle on the curvature of her breast. 

“Delicious.” She crooned.

You bit down hard on your lip in an effort to stifle the moan that threatened to escape, yet a choked warble still managed to break free.

Lady Dimitrescu’s eyes snapped to yours, a smirk spreading across her face that left no doubt that she had heard and causing your cheeks to flame. 

This was absolute torture.

Dinner proved to be a painstaking affair, conducted mostly in silence, which somehow made it worse. Without the distraction of conversation, it became impossible to focus on anything except your traitorous body. With every passing moment, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the pressing need growing between your thighs. Your body was hot, too hot, as desire coursed thick and heavy throughout your veins. By now, you’d soaked your undergarments, and you could only hope they were thick enough to prevent any evidence of your state from dripping onto Lady Dimitrescu’s dress.

The Mistress did little to help matters, being the most sensual eater you’d ever heard. She drew out every single bite, swirling her tongue around the fork before enveloping those perfect lips around the food. The movements were enough to have your thighs clenching in want as you imagined it was your cunt she was eating instead. Your fantasies were spurred further by the moans of delight she let out at the meal, each one resonating straight to your cunt. 

It was becoming harder to hide just how affected you were. Your breathing had turned ragged, masked only by the scraping of the cutlery against the plate, yet you didn’t even notice as the thundering beat of your heart pounded in your ears. Unconsciously, you’d taken to shifting your weight ever more frequently, a subconscious attempt to relieve the ache building between your legs. You weren’t sure how much of this you could take.

Turning back to the plate, you prepared for another excruciating bite only to find it empty, a sight you had never thought could inspire such happiness. You wanted to weep in relief. You were finally free. Filled with desperation, all thoughts of propriety were thrown out the window in your haste to leave. Your hands grasped the table as you scrambled to get down, catching on a few stray pieces of silverware that clashed against the plate. Yet you paid it no heed, hardly even registering it at all in your need to get away.

It was only when Lady Dimitrescu’s hand tightened around your waist that you stilled, just barely cognizant enough to recognize the warning in her grip. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Lady Dimitrescu chided, “Not so fast, pet. We haven’t had dessert yet.”

Your mouth went dry, despair blooming in your stomach, as you realized you’d completely forgotten about dessert. Tears bloomed at the corner of your eyes, on the verge of spilling, out of sheer frustration. You couldn’t take it anymore. If you could just get away , even for a moment, you were sure you’d be able to pull yourself together. Yet that seemed like a fool’s dream with the hand wrapped around your waist. That is, until you spied the forgotten dining cart abandoned on the opposite side of the room, decidedly away from Lady Dimitrescu and her intoxicating scent. 

You cleared your throat. “Of course, my lady,” You said, “I’d never forget. In fact, that’s just what I was going to get. It’s a delicious little tart. I think you’ll love it.”

Beginning to slide out of her lap once more, you were stopped again as her grip became iron, refusing to let you move. “Hmm,” She intoned, “That sounds lovely dear, but I find that I’m not in the mood for a tart tonight. I’m craving something a bit sweeter.”

You shivered, mind running wild at the implications her words carried. She-she couldn’t possibly mean-? Could she? Your thoughts evaporated as you felt the gentle press of feather light kisses ghosting against your jaw. Reveling in the contact, your eyes fluttered closed, a series of sighs escaping you as you leaned into her touch. 

Resting her lips on the shell of your ear, her heated breath brushes your face as she whispers, “I’ve been able to smell your desire all night. Won’t you let Mommy take care of you?”

Nodding in assent, you turned your head, hoping to catch her lips only to find they weren’t there. Your eyes shot open just in time to see her pull away, and it was all you could do to stop yourself from reaching for her. A whine escaped your lips, having been reduced to a needy mess. Yet Lady Dimitrescu remained unswayed.

She looked down at you with devilish eyes. “I want to hear you say it first, pet.” Lady Dimitrescu smirked. “You’ll get nothing from me until you do.”

Deep down, a part of you recoiled in horror. She wanted you to beg ? The prospect was absolutely humiliating. Yet it wasn’t enough to deter you. By this point, you were too far gone, a slave to the flames of desire that had steadily built in you throughout the night. You’d do anything to please her.

“Please, I-,” you whimpered, wide eyes staring up at her in desperation, “I need you, Mommy.”

She grinned in satisfaction. “Good girl.” She crooned as she used one hand to tilt your chin up, her thumb coming to rest against your trembling bottom lip that parted willingly in anticipation. 

Then, without another word, she leaned down, lips slotting perfectly against yours. You melted instantly. After being deprived for so long, your body shuddered in pleasure at the brief contact. Twisting yourself around for better access, hungry hands trailed across Lady Dimitrescu’s curves, seeking to drown in the feel of her. Yet hers remained locked on your waist, maneuvering your body to face her fully. With ease, Lady Dimitrescu lifted you up onto the table, sending various pieces of dinnerware clattering to the floor, yet you hardly even noticed, never once breaking from her lips. 

A whine escaped you as Lady Dimitrescu pulled away, yet it quickly crescendoed into a moan as she moved to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, causing you to throw your head back in ecstasy. She paused at the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as she reveled in your scent. “You smell absolutely divine , darling.” She said, sweeping the length of her tongue across your skin. “Let’s have a taste, shall we?”

Sinking her teeth into your neck, you let out a cry of pain as Lady Dimitrescu began to drink from you with vigor. It should have repulsed you. It should have sent you reeling in horror. Yet the pain only seemed to heighten your pleasure as each pull from her mouth beat perfectly in time with your fluttering pussy, drawing deep moans from you. You bucked your hips into her, desperate for any sort of friction to ease the throbbing in your cunt.  

And your lady was nothing if not generous. Her free hand trailed up the length of your skirt, rubbing your thighs in teasing circles before at last beginning to toy with your entrance…your absolutely soaked entrance. 

Pulling away from your neck, she smirked in satisfaction as she held her hand up to the light and saw your juices glisten. “All this for me?” She asked, eyes flitting to your breathless form that watched her in a lustful haze, “My, my, you are quite the needy pet.”

She leaned in, licking the trail of blood slowly seeping from your fresh wound all the way up to the shell of your ear. “You’ve been so good for me tonight, so I’ll excuse it.” She said, her hot breath fanning against the side of your face and sending another shiver through you. “I suppose it’s about time you received your reward anyway.”

With wide eyes and bated breath, you watched as one of her nails elongated into a sharp claw that tore your dress and undergarments in one fell swoop, baring your body to her completely. There was but one moment, as you sat completely naked, that her eyes raked over your form, appreciating it in its entirety, before she was on you, hands slowly sliding up the length of your legs, parting them before disappearing in between them. The next thing you knew, the hot length of her tongue was pressed flat against your center as she experimentally dragged it along the length of your entrance. Rendered so sensitive from her earlier ministrations, the small touch had you bucking into her, desperate for more. Smirking against you, Lady Dimitrescu pushed her tongue into you in a quick thrust, eliciting a moan from you, before moving upwards to take your clit into her mouth, sucking hard against the small bundle of nerves. From there she quickly built a rhythm, going back and forth, expertly manipulating your body beneath her tongue. You could hardly keep up, breath turning ragged as she propelled you toward your orgasm. Your pulsing cunt clenched around nothing, every muscle in your body tightening in anticipation. You were close. You could feel it. 

“I-I’m going to-to-.” You stammered, gasping for breath. 

“That’s it,” Lady Dimitrescu crooned, looking as composed as ever as her eyes peered up over your stomach to lock with your own, “Go on, I want to see you come undone.”

It was all you needed to send you over the edge. White hot pleasure cracked up your spine, and for a moment, you were sure you were going to black out from the sheer force of it. You lost yourself to the rush of endorphins sent careening throughout your body, hardly even noticing the way your legs convulsed uncontrollably against the table as you fought to recover. 

When you finally did, you were met with the sight of Lady Dimitrescu collecting your juices with one long finger, and you watched, transfixed, as she brought it to her mouth, wrapping her lips around the entire length of the digit. Closing her eyes, she let out a hum of contentment as she appreciated the taste. “Absolutely exquisite.” She said, “I send my compliments to the chef.”

At that, she paused momentarily to wink mischievously at you, causing you to avert your gaze as a deep flush spread across your face. She grabbed her handkerchief, dabbing your juices off the corner of her mouth, before turning to settle the full weight of her gaze upon you. “Now then, it’s time for you to run along, darling.” She commanded, “The hour grows late, and we wouldn’t want you missing work in the morning.”

Her words poured over you like a bucket of cold water, rendering you absolutely speechless. She talked as though everything that had just transpired hadn’t happened at all. Your eyes furrowed in confusion until all at once realization hit.

But of course. How could you have been so stupid ? This changed nothing. It was silly to think that this could have meant something to her. Still, it didn’t change the fact that it meant something to you . Her clear dismissal hit you like a punch to the gut, and you desperately fought against the tears threatening to make an appearance. Despite the pain blooming in your chest, you refused to cry. She was your mistress, and you would show her the respect that she deserved.

“O-of course Mistress,” You murmured, sliding to the floor as humiliation and heartache overwhelmed you. Fixing your torn dress as much as you could, you stood and began to brush invisible specks of dirt off your skirt. Unable to bring yourself to meet her eyes, you still upheld formalities, “Is there anything else you require of me before I take my leave?”

“No, that will be all.” She said. Nodding, you turned and began to gather the miscellaneous dishes strewn about the room, piling them high onto the serving cart, before beginning to make your way out of the door. You only stopped when her voice suddenly called out your name. Spinning back around, you met her gaze in the mirror where she had moved to sit at her vanity. “In the morning, be a dear and inform the head maid that I’ll be dining privately much more frequently for the foreseeable future. I find that work will keep me much more busy than usual.”

Her meaning was clear, and if her smirk was anything to go by, she knew you understood. Words stolen from your throat, you could do no more than dumbly nod before spinning around and hightailing it out of there as heat threatened to consume your entire face. Still, as you left her presence, you couldn’t stop the wide smile that emerged and remained for the rest of the night as you lost yourself to the fantasies of future meals with your mistress.