Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sound of a bluejays song emits through your bedroom window, as a sunshine ray of dust glitters down onto your quilted blanket. You squint, not fully welcoming the bothersome brightness of the morning sun.

You sit up, stretching out your back. Raising your arms high above your head, hearing a few satisfying ‘pops’ in your joints and spine. You sit a moment, allowing yourself to awaken a little more.

Letting out a deep sigh, you push your legs off the bed toward a small vanity. Inside the dark oak drawers are various sets of uniforms. To the right, knee-length gowns arranging in many shades of purple. To the left, at least six copies of the same white frilly apron.

Conducting your usual morning routine, you brush your hair and tie it into a low bun. Tying a cotton bow around your hair tie, making sure to match its shade of purple to the gown you laid out.

One foot at a time, you slip on a pair of white stockings, being careful as to not rip or snag its delicate mesh. The Horner staff was adamant to reflect the estate and family positively through their own efforts in appearances. This, you’ve known and practiced for years. Rarely have you shown up to your masters chambers looking less than perfect. You made sure of that.

It wasn’t surprising that Jack wasn’t the staffs favored member of the family to serve. He was rude, ill-tempered and often degrading toward those around him.

A small smile etched on the corners of your mouth.

“More for me” you thought aloud, slipping on a pair of black buckle-strapped shoes.

He was probably the most feared and despised man in the whole country. Yet, that didn’t stop you from taking quick glances at him from the halls (hopefully without him noticing).

You couldn’t help yourself. During all the years you’ve served him, you found yourself falling for the brute. You didn’t care if it was unconventional or even frowned upon. He was truly one of a kind. A dedicated spirit that let nothing get in his way. Jack was passionate about his work and his interests. He had been that way even when the two of you were younger. Jack would invite colleagues over to the manor to play (what used to be) his favorite past-time, chess. His father had taught him well over the years, by the time he had reached his teens, he could beat anyone that dared to challenge him.

Jack had a deep fascination for the world surrounding the board. The King and Queen, with their knights, bishops, rooks and especially the pawns. You believed that deep in his mind, he envisioned life as a game of chess. Each piece playing its role, and he always knew where to place them.

You always admired that about him. It took a lot of courage and determination to succeed. Just a few years ago, Mr and Mrs Horner had given Jack the rights and deed to the family business. The Horner Pie Company. Ever since, he had led with an iron fist. The company hadn’t seen such high numbers before he took over.

Although he never minded you, you didn’t care. It was the small moments that counted for you. From straightening out his sheets, to buttoning up his daily blouse.

Your cheeks hummed a light pink. Your heart thumped harshly against your ribcage, eager to finish readying yourself so that you may do just that. Dressing your master was your favorite part of the day. You got to be alone with him for a solid five minutes with no distractions. Just you, him and your hands stealing quick strokes of warm skin on his chest.

Hastily tying the white ribbon of your apron around your waist, you made your way to the back of the manor. Leaving the servants quarters to meet the morning you so desperately wanted to start.

Through the kitchen (wiping your feet as you enter), up the cobbled stone stairs, you made it to the main floor of the estate. Although you’ve seen it a thousand times, the interior design of the manor always looked just as grand as when you had seen it for the first time.

The foyer was tall and hollow, with a large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A set of rosewood oak stairs aligned the front double doors. With a large purple rug meeting the entrance, running up and around the grooves of each step. Gold accents flecked the rug and decor. The stairs split in the upper middle, branching out to the left and right sides. Both leading to separate parts of the second floor. With a large painted family portrait at the top of the stairs, complimenting the foyers symmetry.

You climbed the stairs, lifting your gown as to not trip, parting off to the right sided staircase. Attempting at hiding how eager you looked was out of the question. Nothing surpassed the joy of seeing Jack each morning.

Jacks room sat at the end of a long hall, lined with many paintings and sculptures of his likeness. You could help but chuckle.

“If I had to see dozens of artistic adaptations of myself everyday, I’d probably go mad” you thought to yourself.

You finally made it to Jacks chamber doors. With a deep breath and a fix in posture, you knocked politely on the white wooden double-doors.

“Master Jack, it is time to start the day.” You announced before turning the golden door handle.

His room was large and extravagant, fitting for his personality. A set of purple mesh fabric curtains engulfed a large bay window. Tossed about the ceiling and walls were various shades of purple tapestries. You walked in, turning to enter his walk-in closet. Picking out a handsome blazer, a vest suited to his likeness and a white blouse.

While fetching a pair of trousers, stockings and shoes, you heard him grumble from his room. His bed creaking from his movements. A small butterfly fluttered in your stomach.

He’s awake.~

You quickly exit his closet, holding his clothes for the day. Neatly setting them onto his French-upholstered vanity chair.

You walked around the bed, side-smiling at the large mass of blankets that covered him. With a swift movement, you parted the tall curtain drapes, tying them out of the way.

Jack groaned at the sunlight entering the room, turning away from the window.

You related silently to the look on his bothered face. I’ve been there, man.

He covered his face in the blankets, boycotting the sun. You smirked at how childlike he could be sometimes.

“It’s a pleasant day today, master. Lots of activities are on your schedule for today, but first, what tea would you like this morning?”

Jack poked an eye out from the covers, eyeing you up and down.

“Earl” he grumbled.

You bowed lightly, “Of course, right away, sir.”

You made your way out of the bedroom, (almost skipping) across the hall toward a mini kitchenette that sat a couple yards away from his bedroom door.

The main kitchen in the lower level prioritized food and large meals for the family. Small kitchenettes were built for each family members chambers. Specializing in crafting morning beverages such as tea and coffees.

Jack always preferred tea in the mornings, not akin to the bitterness of coffee. You shared in that preference, tea was a soothing beverage. When brewed properly, it awakened the soul and soothed the nerves.

You set a small kettle onto a magical hot plate, pouring water from a pitcher into it. The magic brought the water to a steaming temperature in seconds, able to steep the rich flavor of the earl grey from its leaves.

Careful not to burn yourself, you strain the tea into a ceramic teapot. Placing the pot with a matching saucer and cup onto a golden tray, you carried the tea into his bedroom.

Upon entering, Jack had sat himself up on the edge of his bed. His nightgown slipping off his shoulder. The combination of his bedroom eyes and the exposure of his pale skin was enough to make the tray slip from your hands. But you wouldn’t allow this, embarrassing yourself in front of Jack was something you’d rather not think about.

You set the tray on his nightstand, gently pouring the tea into a cup. Lifting the saucer, you offered Jack his morning beverages.

He took it, bringing the rim of the cup to his plush lips.

He exhaled in satisfaction at the hot liquid flowing down into his stomach.

You smiled, happy to watch Jack enjoy the tea you brewed specially for him.

He set down his cup, leaning back in his bed. Exposing his chest for you, his legs spread, waiting for you to assist in dressing him.

You could squeal from how inviting he looked. His messy lavender hair, his gown loosely sitting on him. Snapping yourself back into focus, you stepped closer. Beginning to unbutton his nightgown one cotton one at a time, savoring the seconds.

Even while Jack was sitting down, your arms had to lift a little higher than your shoulders to reach the neck of his nightwear. His height was impressive, standing slightly over seven feet tall. No one in his family had the genetic gift of tallness. You figured he probably magically enhanced himself when he started collecting magical objects.

While that might’ve been true, the size comparison to yourself was another thing about him you couldn’t help but think about when you were alone. What his large hands on you might feel like, or how much his towering figure could engulf you.

You swallowed hard. Thinking about these things in the middle of work was risky. And you had all the time later to think about stuff like that.

Jack frowned at you, noticing how heavy your breath had gotten.

“Hey, are you sick or something? ‘Cause I don’t wanna catch any germs you might have.”

Your breath hitched, his voice pulling you out from your daze. You had just gotten done unbuttoning his gown, now able to see the entirely of his chest.

A deep red spread on your face, the tips of your ears and the back of your neck catching a hot red flame of embarrassment.

You hastily try to cover your tracks, pulling any lame excuse from out of your mouth.

“N-no sir! I’m not sick! Perhaps it is just warm in here. Yeah, that’s it! I’m just a little warm is all.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced.

Dammit, nothing gets past Jack. But if you had told him the truth into why you were acting this way, he’d kick you out of the manor. The you’d have no way of spending any personal time with him.

You breathed steadily, resetting a good rhythm once more.

“I promise I am not unwell, master. If it makes you feel better, I can retire to my chambers afterwards to relax and regain some energy.”

He blinked at you, looking off to the side, thinking to himself.

“Well if you’re not sick, then could you assemble my outfit already?!” He snipped at you.

You nodded, gratefully continuing your routine together. Pulling his gown up and over his head, replacing it with the frilly white blouse. You opened a drawer in his vanity, turning to face him “What cologne would you like to wear today?”

Jack stroked his chin, “Tree Blossom.”

Your favorite.

You happily handed him the bottle. Jack preferred to apply his own cologne, putting in on the focal points of his body. You’d always sneak a peak at his flamboyant dabbing of the cologne’s dropper against his neck and wrists as you prepared his vest.

Adoring him in the embroidered vest, you slowly buttoned up the blouse before closing up the vest.

(Unaware that Jack had been staring at you the entire time~)

You look up at him, his eyes averting yours.

“Hurry up,” he quipped.

You smiled, he may not believe in manners, but you wouldn’t change a single thing. It was refreshing to mingle with his personality. He was a person to be feared, surely. But not once in your entire career had he ever hit or punish you. Even when you had dropped a teapot a few years back.

~

“Master Jack! I apologize so deeply for my clumsiness! You may remove any of my pittance to cover the damages.”

You bowed, hands and knees on the floor. Your hands trembled, hot tears rolling down your face. This was the end of your career. No, the very end of your life. Someone as useless as you didn’t deserve to serve the Horner family.

“Get up you weirdo.”

Jack effortlessly lifted the back of your gown, making you stand on your feet. You winced, realizing your palm had been resting on a stray shard. A slight gash in your hand started to bleed. You held your hand close to your chest.

Jacks eyes widens at your injury “Go get bandaged up… or … or your hand will bleed on the carpet.”

“But, the shards,” you muttered.

He pinched between his eyebrows “Someone ELSE will clean it up! Clearly you’re bleeding so you should focus more on that. Now go!” He pointed down the hall to the washroom.

You blinked in confusion “but that’s… that’s your washroom-“

“Oh my GOD! Are you deaf? Go!”

~

Ever since that day, you had seen him in a way that most people didn’t. Considerate, carrying hints of kindness if you knew where to look. And a devilish sense of humor. There wasn’t a single thing about him you didn’t enjoy, even if you were a mere pawn in his chess game. You were happy to play the role, so long as you were near him.

Chapter Text

After buttoning up his vest and slipping a pair of black boots onto his feet, you wished him a healthy morning and went straight to the kitchen to ‘cool off’.

Although you weren’t ill in the slightest, you promised Jack Horner that you’d take some time to rest and recuperate. You couldn’t let him find out that the reason why you had stumbled on your words and turned red in the face was because you were picturing such naughty things about him.

You sat at a small wooden table with two chairs, covering your face with your hands. If you hadn’t embarrassed yourself like that, you could be standing in the same room as him while he ate his breakfast. You wanted to see him before he left for the factory, he spent most of the day there. You’re only available time to see him was mornings and late evenings. Well, it was selfish of you to want more time with him, he was a very busy man. So it was best like this, staying out of his way unless he needed you. But oh, how your heart ached for him to want more of you. Your world’s were completely opposites, yet orbited in the same galaxy.

“Hey, y/n, are you slacking off?” A male voice spoke, directed at you.

You looked up from the table, taking a break from moping at your inner thoughts. The man who was speaking to you was one of the head private chefs of the estate, Douglas. He was well over the age of retirement, cooking every meal of the day for Jack and both of his parents. You gave him props to working here for so long. He had the opportunity to retire, like your own parents did. But he simply didn’t trust anyone else to cook for the Horner family. Each member had very specific tastes and preferences. Plus, he had never once tried to poison them or made them sick from poorly made foods. He was loyal, and you knew how far that takes you as a servant of the family.

You shook your head in response to his question, not having the motivation to give him a verbal answer.

Douglas pushed a silver meal cart, draped in a white cloth. You noticed a tall glass bottle of maple syrup laid in a small basket, presented as if it were a fine wine. The fact that today was Monday, combined with the fact of there was syrup on the cart, underneath the silver dome was more than likely French toast. Jack preferred French toast on Mondays, claiming that “Starting off the week with a classic sweetness brings the whole morning together.”

He looked at you from above his spectacles, giving you a worried look “Is there something the matter, my dear?”

You gave him a weak smile, shaking your head “It’s a long story. You should go on ahead and give the master his breakfast, it is Monday, after all.”

He glanced toward the cart, puckering his lips “Quite right, but when I return, I expect an explanation as to why you’re brooding in my kitchen.”

You waved him off, wishing to accompany him to see Jack. You rested on the table, too many thoughts and worries weighing your head down. After about thirty or so minutes, Douglas returned from the dining room. Pushing the same silver cart from earlier. Each tier of the cart had been emptied, supposedly placed on the dining room table for Jack.

You awaken from a small nap, the clanking and jittering sound of the carts wheels startling you. You blink away your haziness, seeing Douglas standing in the same spot where you last saw him.

He walked over to you, taking the opposite seat at the table. Douglas folded his hands together, leaning forward, being sure that his pupils sat just above the half-crescent spectacles that loosely sat on the bridge of his large nose.

“Now then, the brute has his breakfast,” He adjusts the collar of his chef’s coat “tell me what’s on your mind.”

You cross your arms onto the table, resting your chin atop your forearms “He’s not a brute.”

Douglas shrugged. “Call him what you will, I’ve been around since his father was his age. The early Mr. Horner never treated anyone with such disdain and shallowness, I suppose I’ve been pampered in my role as a servant, in that regard. Comparing young master Jack to his father, he’s certainly,”

You throw him a slight scowl, his sentence shut off by your warning glare.

He cleared his throat “He’s certainly, different.”

Douglas had a handful of words he could use to describe Jack Horner, but while he was around you, he knew it best to keep them to himself. It wasn’t a secret that you were the one, the only one, willing servant to serve Jack. Most of the staff was afraid of his violent outbursts, if they got bad enough, he became excessively violent.

You look down at the table, letting out a choppy sigh “I accidentally made a fool of myself. So now I have to stay here until he leaves for work.”

“Dropped another teapot?” Douglas teased, slightly smirking at you.

You rolled your eyes at him.

“No, I made sure not to do that again. I, accidentally got flustered while undoing his nightgown this morning.” You shut your eyes tight, slightly afraid of how Douglas would react.

“Is that all? I thought you had spilled hot tea on him or something similar.” He spoke reassuringly, adjusting his spectacles up to the top of his nose bridge.

You looked up at him, surprised he wasn’t phased by your confession “You’re not-“

“My dear,” Douglas interrupted “A quiet, kind and patient maid such as yourself does not just serve anyone that, erm, different. Unless she has a certain fondness to them.”

“Am I really that much of an open book?” You ponder aloud, slightly embarrassed for being so obvious. Well, obvious enough for the head baker to notice. Wait, if the baker knew… then.

A smacking scarlet red fluster sprouted on your face “Who else knows?!”

Douglas’s nose inhaled sharply. He lifted his hand, counting silently on his fingers. As the number raised higher and higher, the more you felt like burying yourself in the garden.

“Just about everyone, except..” Douglas lingered, taking his time.

“Except, except who?! Don’t dangle this in front of me.” You pouted, grouchy from being such an obvious fan of Jack.

“Everyone except, you-know-who” He raised his eyebrows, looking past you, toward the door to the dining room.

A wave of relief washed over you. It was already embarrassing enough to have the whole estate know of your little crush. But to have Jack know? It’d be the end of you. The end of your normal routine with being able to see him every morning and every night. You’d be switched to kitchen duty, scrubbing potatoes. Never again to service Jack. The very thought made your throat hurt, holding back tears.

“Not to worry though, miss y/n. The young master is far too distracted by his work to notice something as simple as romantic attraction. Even more so if it’s from a maid, such as yourself. He’d more than likely follow the idea that you’re so willing to serve him solely because it’s your job.”

Douglas was probably right in that sense. You’ve never noticed Jack play into the attention you gave him. He probably just sees you as another staff member.

(Or does he?)

He was never quite fond of personal connections aside from his parents. During his time at school, Jack preferred to spend his time making fun of other children rather than befriend them. Or the occasional prank made on the teacher, which resulted in a letter to his parents. As mischievous as he was, Jack was never fully punished for the wrong doings of his childhood. You figure that’s the reason why he’s so bold to his decision-making, having never experienced the consequences of his actions. He was lucky that same boldness served him well in the underground market.

A life of crime was his own decision. His parents never advocated for turning against the law, but they also never advocated to not follow it either. The Horner family prides itself on success. At times, some strings needed to be pulled to get a step ahead in the game of business. One thing led to another and Jack enveloped himself in illegal trades just to receive a larger collection of magical items. Even going far as to hiring the dreadful, yet famous, serpent sisters to do most of his dirty work.

You were happy that you didn’t have to venture out and be apart of that mess. Keeping the estate in clean-shape was a good enough job for you. Though, you worried for Jack, watching him carry a shadow of danger behind him. A gut feeling always told you that the danger he carried would one day serve him the biggest consequence he’d ever face.

Hopefully that day would never come.

Suddenly, the ringing sound of a bell could be heard from the dining room.

Douglas turned his head, easing an eyebrow “Is he finished already? Alright then, I’d better go fetch the plates and bottle. You may go, miss. That is, if you’re feeling any better.” With that, he took the cart back into the dining room, the door closing behind him.

You remembered that Jacks room needed tending to, which made you feel a little better. Dusting and polishing furniture in Jacks room was your happy place. Taking in the small details of where he rested, occasionally finding bits of parchment from his pockets. Mostly small lists of businesses to write to, or shops to contact about sales. Whatever may be written on them, it was Jacks handwriting. He always curled his Q’s, giving it a tail that rounded back to the body of the letter. You loved his signature at the end of the letters on his desk, a purple thumbprint stamped beside his last name.

As you got up to leave the kitchen, Douglas came back in with a cart full of dishes. As well as a single glass cup filled with iced water. You watched in fascination as the condensation dripped down the sides.

“Was the meal to his liking?”

Douglas looked baffled, completely disregarding your question.

“He… wanted you to have this” he gestured to the glass.

Your eyes widened “Jack wants me to have an iced water, from his table?!”

You and Douglas shared a look of disbelief, both staring at the glass of water.

“W-Well, don’t just stand there! Do you want the ice to melt?” Douglas snipped at you.

You grabbed the glass, surprised to feel something so cold. Holding it gently, you watched as the small cubes collided with each other. Emitting a soft clinking sound.

“I don’t, I mean. I shouldn’t.” You sputtered out, unsure of whether to drink it or not.

“You should. I haven’t sipped on an iced beverage in years, who knows when you’ll have another opportunity.”

You nodded. Ice was a rare delicacy to simple servants such as you and Douglas. It was commonly served to wealthy families. Not to mention that fact that it was Summer, when fresh ice was hard to come by.

Closing your eyes, you held the edge of the glass up to your lips, wincing at the cold cubes pressing against your upper lip. A coolish sensation flowed down your throat, landing into your stomach. The low temperature cooled your body from the inside-out. After swallowing, you let out a deep exhale, creating a small fog from the chilled drink. You felt as though your body had been washed in a cold stream during a drought. The ice swished around in your mouth, melting as it moved.

“What do you think?” Douglas watched you, yearning for your reaction.

Your eyes must’ve been sparkling with joy, since Douglas grinned when you looked at him.

“It was… refreshing.” You concluded, gently placing the empty glass onto the cart.

He hummed, nodding with you “Perhaps the master is not so ‘different’, after all.” Douglas smiled warmly, turning toward the sink to wash the plates.

You could only stand still, your tongue futzing around from his cold surface. Never had you experienced something so lovely. And Jack got to experience it whenever he wanted to. What a lovely life he leads.

Coming back to your senses, you headed to the foyer and up the stairs to Jacks room. The supply closet next to the kitchenette held your usual feather-duster and polish rag. Rolling up your sleeves, you got straight to work. A dopey smile spread on your face, Jack wanted you to have a glass of iced water from his own table. Similarly when he wanted you to use his personal washroom when you had accidentally injured yourself. You remembered using a first aid kit tucked away in a cabinet to tend to your wound. The very same first aid kit that you planned on re-stocking after tidying up the room. A warm glow hummed in your stomach, your master cared about you in his own way, yet again. You hoped the small gestures didn’t stop, but you’d still serve him the same, even if they did stop.

<>-<>-<>-<>-<>

(Now a little trip into Jack’s perspective)

Jack delicately rang his breakfast bell after thoroughly cleaning every platter that was served to him. The mornings tended to burden him an unquenchable appetite, one that food didn’t quite satisfy. He dabbed the corner of his mouth with a deep purple cloth, giving his platters and beverages a once-over. Being sure that he didn’t miss a single crum of food. A glass pitcher of water sat at the right edge of the table, accompanied by a small metal bucket of ice cubes. Jack thought about earlier, how you had claimed to be feeling a little warm.

“No doubt she’s still in the kitchen” he thought to himself.

The squeaky sound of a rolling wheeled cart made its way into the dining hall. One of his chefs returning to take away the emptied plates and platters.

“Was everything to your liking, sir?” The chef folded his hands together, leaning forward slightly to fully view Jacks face.

Jack rolled his eyes “Oh no, of course not! I just decided to eat everything here because I’d feel bad for wasting it!” He replied sarcastically, emphasizing his words.

The chef exhaled a defeated sigh “Very good sir, shall I clear the table, then?”

“Fine.” Jack huffed, watching as the chef took each dish and carefully set it onto the cart. He reached over and started to lift the pitcher of water.

“Hey.” Jack spoke abruptly, making the chef stop in his tracks.

“Yes sir?”

“Is my maid in the kitchen?”

The chef frowned inquisitively “Yes, sir. Shall I fetch her for you?”

“No.” Jack reached forward, taking the pitcher from his hand. He poured a bit of water into an empty glass that he hadn’t touched. Jack only drank the orange juice he was served at breakfast, although water was always served alongside it.

“Give this to her.” Jack ordered, handing the chef the glass.

He nodded, gently taking the glass from his large hand “Yes sir, at once.”

As the chef made his way toward the kitchen door, Jacks voice boomed aloud “Add ice!”

The chef’s eyes widened.

“Y-yes sir!”, quickly taking the small metal tongs and plopping a few ice cubes into the glass before entering the kitchen.

The doors creaked and closed behind him, leaving Jack to sit in a satisfying silence. He smirked to himself, thinking about your possible reaction to the gesture. He leaned against the table, resting his chin into his palm. A dreamy image of you surfaced in his mind. Your rosey lips meeting the cold glass, perhaps a stray drop of water falling from the corner of your mouth. Maybe it lands on your chest as it deeply rises and falls.

“Master Jack~,

you’re so thoughtful and generous.

I have no choice but to thank you,

using my services~”

Jack gulped, sitting up straight in his chair. He awkwardly coughed into his fist, standing up from the table.

“Get my carriage ready! I’m off to work!” He shouted at a nearby servant, a light pink blush humming at his nose and cheeks.

Chapter Text

You neatly folded each layer of linen off the bed. Starting with the comforter, then blanket and sheet. Placing each layer into a darker wicker basket. As you met the corners together, you thought of the floral herbs you had stashed away. On the days when you prepared to clean his bedding, you would sneak some essential oils into the load as you tumbled it to dry. It was a personal choice, of course.

You could’ve just as well save the money you’d spend on oils to buy yourself a new dress for days off. But the simple joy of knowing that Jack enjoyed such sweet smells, was more than enough inspiration for you to develop this secret gesture. The oils never stained the cloth, since you strategically added the droplets into a ball made of wool. Carefully distributing the sweet aroma into the bedding without leaving any stains.

“I still have some hibiscus left. Although, lavender is his preferred smell. I know I used up the last of it last time these were washed. Maybe I can purchase another bottle with the allowance I get tomorrow. I can go to the market and see what’s available.” You thought aloud to yourself.

The large white bedroom door creaked open, making your head turn. Standing in Jacks doorway was the manors butler, Charlemagne.

He was a tall, gaunt man. Hunched over, with a large pointed nose, resembling a beak of a bird. Accompanied by a black suit that snugly fit his thin body, he fit the profile of a vulture. You shivered, Charlemagne brought a very cold atmosphere, dropping the temperature of any room he entered.

“Muttering again, y/n.” His voice was cold and raspy, with an inexpressive look on his wrinkled face.

You bowed slightly “Apologies, Charlemagne. It’s a bad habit I aim to avoid.”

“Clearly.” He stated bluntly, looking about the room, “Once you are finished with the young masters chambers, you are to join a few others out back for horticulture upkeep.”

Charlemagne glared lifelessly into your eyes. You felt a single bead of sweat drip down your back and into the fabric of your dress. You nodded, staring at the floor of the bedroom. Hoping that the purple diamond pattern would swallow you whole and out of his sight.

The muffled sound of his footsteps faded away from the door, down toward the main hall. The air becoming less suffocating.

You took a deep breath, feeling better about making any type of noise. Charlemagne was John and Miriam Horner’s personal butler since long before she had stepped foot in the manor. He was efficient, blunt and loyal. Which suited a man of his position and status. He held authority just a step below the family’s, but was still unable to make large decisions without an approval from the masters. Charlemagne’s presence certainly made the staff uneasy, since they knew he wasn’t to be reasoned with when it came to an issue or problem.

The Horner staff was expected to provide nothing but the highest level of service at all times. From the cooks to the maids, everyone served an important roles and performed it well. Of course, that never stopped Charlemagne from looking at the finer details and subtle imperfections. He always knew how to put your head in a state of inferiority and shame. Hence most of the staffs discomfort with the man. He expected nothing less than perfection from the lower staff, you included.

You let out a helpless sigh, carrying the basket of folded linens down the hall. The wash room was just past the large kitchen downstairs. Getting to work, you rolled up your sleeves and tossed the bedding into a large stone tub. It took multiple trips to the well outside to fill it according. Using tools and light upper-body strength, you stirred the linens in a circular motion.

After thoroughly washing, you collected the soaked sheets to toss them into the crank-powered dryer. Taking a small ball of wool from your apron pocket, the scented oils already had been dripped onto it. You quickly tossed it into the heap of linens. The machine itself didn’t fully dry garments or linens, simply rung off a majority of moisture. Afterward, they’re hung on a clothesline outside by the garden. Perfect timing since you had been ordered to help out there after you were done.

You gulped, Charlemagne’s dead stare etched at the back of your head, making your hands instinctively work faster.

After hanging up the linens, you stopped inside the work shed to put on some outdoor gloves and apron.

“Y/n! Good morning!” A feminine voiced called out to you.

A small smile curled on the corners of your mouth. You recognized it immediately, without the need to turn and see who it belonged to. It was Maisie, one of your closest work companions. Before you had been assigned as Jacks personal servant, the two of you were inseparable. She was the first maid to reach out to you when you first started. Though you were co-workers, she felt more like a big sister.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days! How have you been?” Maisie waved to you as you made your way over to the flower garden.

You knelt down across from her, taking a small garden tool to help weed out the dandelions and Queen Ann’s lace “Not too bad, actually. My morning was a bit rough, but other than that it went well.”

She furrowed her brow at you “It wasn’t anything to do with him was it?” Maisie’s voice shifted from cheerfulness, to a slightly concerned tone. You smiled, shaking your head. You understood why she’d be so protective of you. But what she didn’t understand was that you were in good hands.

“No, nothing like that. You know that he never treats me poorly, Maisie.”

“I know, but there’s no telling with young master Jack. He’s unpredictable.” She sighed.

You grinned, that was exactly the reason why you enjoyed him so much. His unpredictability in his game of life. A small blush spread on your cheeks. You were unsure if it was from the warm morning sun beating on you, or from thoughts of Jack. Either way, you knew the answer.

Maisie noticed you beaming at the mention of his name, she rolled her eyes, a small smirk growing. “Y’know, if you want to impress a man of that class, you should consider using some of those scented oils for your own purposes.”

You halted your work, looking for an answer. She was right, but you hadn’t even thought about using them for yourself. Ever since you had found the merchant that sells the small fragrance bottles, you thought only of Jack. And how happy he would be to have such a nice smelling bed after a long days work.

For the next few hours, you and Maisie weeded the flower garden, trimmed the shrubbery and scrubbed the stepping stones. All the squatting, bending and reaching you had done had made you worn out and sweaty. Maisie huffed out a breath, sitting down on the stone steps that led up to the back door. You joined her, sitting on a step below her.

“Thank you for helping me, y/n. It really does make time fly when you have more hands.” Maisie smiled wearily at you.

“No problem at all! I should probably wash up a little and head back inside to clean the foyer” You noted, remembering your other duties for the day.

Maisie patted you on the head, being careful not to mess up your hair “Promise me something?”

You turned to fully face her, noticing the tone of seriousness in her voice “Yeah, what’s up?”

She looked down at you, a worried look washed over her. You hadn’t noticed before, but she definitely looked older than when you had first met. It’s crazy how time can fly by so quickly. A light set of bags hung under her eyes, yet there was a stillness behind them.

“Promise me you’ll be alright?” An empathetic sorrow drooped on her face.

You smiled, nodding at her “I promise I’ll be alright. And if I’m not, I’ll come find you.”

She sighed with relief. Promising that seemed to reassure her. You were glad she was an advocate for you. Douglas and Maisie were both very kind and supportive friends. You felt very thankful to be in either of their company.

After giving each other a goodbye hug, you made your way to the servants quarters, eager for a bath. Though the quarters weren’t as high class as the estate, the Horner family believed that a happy servant is a hard-working servant. Each bedroom was supplied with a shallow tub for bathing. You carried buckets of water into the room, careful not to spill any on the floor. After a few trips back and forth to the well again, you had filled the tub.

You closed the door of your room, locking it behind you. Starting from top to bottom, you removed your hair accessories, then unbuttoned your gown. Taking off the layers of your dress, as well as your stockings and shoes, you laid them gently on the bed.

You tested the waters temperature with your foot. It was cool but not cold, and your overheated body welcoming its chilly temperature, sighing instinctively. You looked over at your dresser, three small bottles of scented oils sitting in anticipation.

“Oh, why not” you thought to yourself. You walked over, taking the orange citrus scented one. You weren’t aware if Jack enjoyed the scent of oranges, so you refrained from using this one. You poured a few droplets of the bottles contents into the awaiting tub of water, giving it a small stir with your arm before submerging your body into it.

The water was perfect, you wished you could take your time just relaxing in it. But you still had the foyer to clean. So you took the tallow-based soap bar next to the tub and began washing your body. You closed your eyes, bringing scoopfuls of the water up and over your head and neck. The soap leaving behind a slippery sheen to the surface of your skin.

Suddenly, a deep gut feeling fluttered in your stomach. You quickly opened your eyes, covering yourself as you looked about the room. No one was here, you knew you had locked the door. And yet, an unsettling feeling that you were being watched was pulsing through you. You felt your heart beat through your ears, the adrenalin coursing through you slowly dying down to a mere suspicion.

“No one’s here. So stop worrying.” You tried to comfort yourself, petting your arms and shoulders. You took a deep breath. It was better to just hurry up and finish so that you didn’t have to worry about being naked anymore.

With that, you rinsed yourself off and stepped out of the tub. You pulled the plug out, letting the water drain down through a pipe and out of the quarters. It was a neat mechanic, not having to scoop all the water out. Too bad there wasn’t a way to add water without filling it with buckets from the well.

As you dried yourself, you caught whiffs of the orange scented oil. The oil worked surprisingly well, which meant that it would work well for Jack if he decided to use it when he bathes. That was a task that you weren’t allowed to assist with. Jack preferred to bathe himself, he only had you ready the tub and a towel for him. But oh, what a dream it would be to assist him. Washing his hair, combing it afterward. The thought made you giggle. As much as you wanted to, you valued his boundaries just as much. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable.

With a new, clean outfit, you made your way back into the manor toward the foyer. With supplies from the wash room, you dusted the various vases and framed portraits of the room. As well as sweeping and scrubbing the tiled floors.

“Y/n.” A raspy voiced beckoned you across the room. You jumped slightly, having been used to working in silence for the last thirty minutes.

Charlemagne stood at the bottom of the steps, just a few feet from where you were scrubbing the floors.

“Yes sir?”

“Master Jack is to arrive later than usual tonight. He sent a letter, ordering for his dinner to be delivered to his room when he arrives.” He reached inside his inner-most coat pocket, pulling out an opened letter with a purple wax seal.

It was hard to keep yourself from groaning. Not only were you not able to stand near him at breakfast, now you would be able to be near him at dinner either.

“Very well, I can assist Douglas in the kitchen tonight after my regular tasks” you spoke solemnly, lowering your head.

Charlemagne raised an eyebrow “I expect you to be the one responsible for delivering the master his dinner. As well as preparing him for bed.”

You sat aghast at his words. Douglas was the one responsible for cooking and serving meals to Jack. No one else was allowed to handle the cart except for the chefs. It was a precaution, to not exchange the food with too many hands. That way someone anonymous is unable to poison it.

“Shouldn’t I receive special permission from the master before handling his food?” You pondered aloud, trying hard not to sound like you’re questioning Charlemagne’s authority.

He gently unfolded the letter, opening it wide enough to read. He took a pair of spectacles from his breast pocket, reading aloud the contents of the letter:

“Charles,

I’ll be home late so I wanna go

to bed right after I eat. Have my maid bring

me my dinner in my room tonight.

Jack.”

You could jump up and scream with joy. Jack mentioned you in a letter! And he wants you to bring him his dinner! You felt yourself tremble with the repressed happiness within you. This day would be a good one yet.

“Well, if the master says it’s alright, then I will not question it.” You stood, giving a light bow.

He looked to the side, sniffing the air, lifting his head. Charlemagne’s eyes look back to you, his nose wrinkled in disgust “What is that smell?”

You smell the air with him, realizing that he may be smelling the orange scented oil you were wearing “It may be the oil I bathed in earlier, sir. It was orange scented.”

He looked you up and down, narrowing his eyes “Please refrain from bathing in such pungent odors. The master may not enjoy such scents.”

You didn’t think that you had applied that much to the water, maybe Charlemagne had a keen sense of smell. But no use in arguing when you’ve been allowed to see Jack again, “Yes sir.”

For the rest of the day, you happily cleaned and fluffed your way to the late hours. As well as taking the fully dry linens and set Jacks bed accordingly. Being sure to fluff the pillows, staging them to look photogenic. The sound of carriage wheels and horse hooves could be heard emitting from outside the main manors doors. You giggled with excitement, rushing to the kitchen.

Douglas stood beside the stoves, double checking the quality of Jacks dinner. Tonight, Jacks dinner consisted of two braised tenderloin with roasted potatoes, garlic sautéed peppers and buttery mashed potatoes with plum whine. The smell was enough to make your mouth water. The savory herbs of the steak complimented the sweet sharp smell of the wine.

Your stomach growled. You blushed, realizing that you’d hadn’t eaten yet today.

Douglas chuckled aloud, “I’ll take that sound as a compliment to my craft.”

You side-eyed him, a small smirk etched on your face. You’d talk to him a bit more, but you knew very well that Jack was on his way to his room just this moment.

“Is it ready?”

“I believe so, hey!-“ Douglas hollered as you snatched the cart handle from him, speed-walking out of the kitchen toward the foyer.

Taking the main staircase with the cart was out of the question. You resorted to taking master John’s personal mechanical lift. It had been installed almost four years ago, after he had taken a tumble and irreparably damaged his knee. Climbing the stairs in his state was difficult, leading to the installment of the lift to make his trip from upstairs more safe and secure. That was around the same time that Jack was brought into the picture as the potential new owner of the pie business.

Jack’s parents were still in pretty good health, his father’s moment of vulnerability must have awakened their sense of mortality. Retiring early and giving Jack primary ownership of the company must’ve lifted something from their shoulders. They were both retired, living their best days traveling to other countries. Leaving Jack alone a with the manor. A manor he hardly spent time at.

A piece of you pitied him. To be away at work longer than the comfort of home, you wondered how that left him feeling at the end of the day. He always had an air of confidence during the day, but nights were when he showed his true colors. After a long day shouting at workers and dealing with stressful paperwork, Jack rarely had the energy to wave about his pride.

The lift’s gate closed, elevating up to the second level of the manor. After it stopped and opened, you stepped out, pushing the cart in front of you. Down the hall and past the art, you saw a bit of light emitting from Jacks room. Butterflies danced in your stomach, the moment you’ve been waiting for all day was only ten yards away. You approached the door, giving it a gentle knock.

“Master Jack, I have brought your dinner. Just as you requested of me. May I come in?” You leaned into the door, tilting your ear toward the crack in the doorway.

“What? Oh, yeah. Come in.” Jacks disheveled voice beckoned you.

Chapter Text

You opened the door all the way, Jack sat at his desk, resting his face in his hands. Your smile dropped seeing him like this. He often returned home with little to no energy. You wished you could take away his problems, help him to feel lighter in his burdens. You pushed the cart into the room, parking it next to his desk. Jack looked over at the food, then at you. You gazed at him with sympathy. He looked terrible. Bags hung beneath his bright blue eyes, dulling their color into a murky grey. He quickly looked away from you, avoiding eye-contact. He must’ve known how tired he looked.

There wasn’t a lot you could do unless he requested it specifically. That was the rule, never do anything assuming it was wanted. Thats why you kept the scented oils a slight secret. You were allowed to wear them, but never to add them into the masters personal property or belongings. But you just couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to do so many more things for Jack. For now, an understanding silence always shared between the two of you.

You placed his meal tray onto his desk in front of him, setting a set of cutlery and napkins next to it.

“I hope it’s to your liking, sir. I will be beside the door if you need anything.” You spoke softly, taking quick glances at him as he eyed his dinner.

“M’kay.” He acknowledged.

You walked over and stood beside the bedroom doors, folding your hands neatly in front of you. Jack immediately tucked his napkin in the front of his blouse and began to cut into the steak. You were happy to see he still had an appetite after such a long day.

Being trapped in the same room with the garlic potatoes wasn’t helpful in reminding you that you forgot to eat today. You closed your eyes, trying not to think about it. As if sensing your vulnerability, your stomach decided to take it a step further and let out a most pathetic sound of hunger. Its rumbling growl echoed off the bedroom walls, making Jack pause in the middle of his meal.

You silently groaned, despising your body for punishing itself.

“Hungry?” Jack asked aloud, turning toward you.

You panicked at his question. What could you possibly say to that?! ‘Apologies sir, I completely forgot about eating today’? Yeah right. You didn’t want something like your forgetfulness to be a burden on Jack. He’s already handling enough as it is.

“I-“ you bag an to speak, but was interrupted by Jack.

“Come here.” He ordered.

You gulped, not knowing his intentions. He hadn’t bee violent toward you.

…Yet.

Had you done something wrong?

Your feet froze in place, unable to move. For the first time, you were afraid to approach him. A while back, he had hospitalized a servant by throwing her across the room when she had asked for some time off. This was after he had returned home from a long work day. A business deal had gone sour, and the company had lost a few thousand gold pieces in the process. Her arm had broken from the impact into the wall. The staff was on edge after that display of strength, protecting themselves by kissing the ground he walked on, or ignoring him completely.

“Are you deaf?” Jack questioned, slightly agitated.

You felt yourself tremble, a hot sting of tears collected in the corners of your eyes “N-no sir.”

“Then come over here.” He beckoned.

You loved Jack more than anything, but even a normal person would be afraid of how his day had gone. It had the power to shape his personality completely. You gripped onto your apron, your feet finding their way forward. Leading you back to the side of his desk, where you stood waiting for his next orders.

You couldn’t help but avoid eye contact with him, staring at the floor. It felt as though you’ve stepped into the pen with the bull, wearing all red.

His hand reached out, lifting your chin with his large index finger. You flinched at his touch, but then welcomed it fully. His touch was gentle and moved with purpose. Although the surface of his hand seemed smooth and soft, it gave off a calloused and rugged texture. Like he had spent many hours of the day meticulously handling something heavy and rough. Such as boxes, or weapons. The second thought made you shudder.

Lifting your chin up, you met his gaze. Your breath hitched at the sight of his curtained eyes staring at you. His pupils traveled down to your chest, making your heart beat pulse through your pelvic floor. A rollercoaster of emotions coursed through you. Fear and uncertainty twisting and binding into something forbidden and savory.

You gulped, trying to find anything to say. But your tongue grew larger, keeping anything from sneaking past your lips. This moment was too rare to ruin, no matter his intentions. He was touching you because he wanted to. Your face felt hot, as though it were moments away from melting into his hand.

Jack broke your daze, lifting up the front end of his fork in front of your face. Impaled on its prongs was a single slice of the garlic roasted potatoes. You blinked a few times, wondering if there was anything wrong with it. You didn’t see any dirt, or mold. It looked just as delicious as when you saw it in the kitchen. You swallowed, smelling its contents up close made it even more irresistible.

“Open your mouth.” Jack ordered, his voice monotone.

You looked up at him, then back at the potato wedge, realizing what he wanted.

“Master, I’m very honored that you wish for me to take this. But this meal was specifically made to your liking, I would hate to see any of it wasted on someone like me.”

You wanted to take a bite more than anything, but it was true that the dinner was made especially for Jack. Using the highest class ingredients and cooking techniques only money can afford. Charlemagne would banish you to the cellar for a week if he had found out you hadn’t eaten even a single crum from the masters plate.

Jack tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow “Are you deliberately refusing my orders?”

The fear from earlier swirled in your stomach, mixing in with the hunger and hormones.

“No, sir! Of course not!” You cried out, panicked and feeling helpless at the situation. You didn’t want to upset Jack, but you also didn’t want to receive punishment from Charlemagne.

Jack leaned in closer, bring the roasted potato almost up to your lips “Good, then open that mouth of yours.” His voice turned sultry, a smirk hid behind his soft pink lips, treating this interaction as though it were a fun game. Playfully prodding the line between your boundaries and your obedience.

Deciding not to relish on it any further, you parted your lips, then opened your mouth wide enough from him to place the fork inside. The rock salt on the potato was sharply savory at first, then the herbs and aftertaste of garlic danced on your tongue. You closed your lips over the fork, allowing Jack to gently retreat it away. Pulling it away from your face and back down onto the desk.

The flavor was sensational. You chewed slowly, savoring the crushed thyme and rosemary. You instinctively closed your eyes, letting all of your senses focus on nothing else. You let a moan of pleasure escape your throat, exhaling through your nose. Realizing how crude it sounded, your eyes flew open. You quickly chewed and swallowed, looking up at Jack.

His face was a dark pink, his mouth agape, looking at you with a shocked expression. You coughed into your fist, trying to erase the fact that you practically whimpered from enjoying what you ate.

“I-uh, thank you, sir. For sharing with me. I, really enjoyed it.” You stuttered out, looking to the side.

“No kidding.” Jack replied, his eyes fixated on you.

“Well, now that I’ve done what you wished, would you like to finish?”

A large smirked spread on his mouth, no longer hiding his amusement in this “Finish what, exactly?”

Your heart pounded in your ears, a scorching red smacked on your face. You realized how suggestive that sounded.

“Your dinner! Would you like to finish your dinner?” You quickly restated, pointing to the half-empty plate sitting in front of him.

Jack looked to the porcelain plate, giving it a somewhat ‘disappointed’ look.

“Ugh, fine. Just go get my nightgown. I’ll be done in a second.”

You bowed slightly before heading over to his closet, “Yes, master.”

What had gotten into him? He never had talked to you this way, or handled you in a way that made you feel like melting. Was he drunk? But he had barely sipped the plum wine, so he couldn’t have done those things intoxicated. You shook your head, he was just playing with you. Jack enjoyed playing mind games with guests and staff. It was imply his nature. It was probably just one of those things.

Jack preferred to wear a simple buttoned cotton gown when retiring for the night. Though, you never quite knew why he preferred the buttoned ones, when the string-collared ones were easier to change in and out of. The buttons always took a few minutes to properly connect.

As routine played in your favor, Jack finished his dinner and moved himself to the edge of his bed, waiting for you. You draped a gown from off a hanger and onto your arm, carrying it with you back into the room. Jack kicked off his shoes, placing them neatly next to the bed on the carpet.

As you approached him, you felt as though a million eyes were on you. When it was just him. The air became thick with tension.

“S-so, did work go well today, sir?”

Jack shrugged, letting you reach forward to undo his vest and blouse.

“It’s all so predictable right now. Nothing new has happened since the new alliance.”

You remembered the Horner Pie Co. becoming business partners with another factory across the sea. Supposedly it’s run by someone with a famous fairytale background.

“I remember it was with a potion factory, but I can’t recall the owner” you inquired.

As you spoke to him, Jacks brow furrowed as he deeply inhaled, smelling something peculiar. You had not noticed his puzzled look.

“The Fairy Godmother’s Potion Factory.” He replied, leaning forward closer to your face.

Noticing movement, you glanced upward, Jacks nose almost touching yours. You jumped at the sudden closeness, a fleck of pink blush grew on your nose and cheeks. Jack leaned in more, his face hovering beside yours. He sighed before deeply inhaling the air surrounding your neck. Goosebumps scattered on your arms. He was…. Smelling you?

“What, is that? You smell like, oranges.” He questioned, his voice gravelly and rugged.

You swallowed hard, realizing he had caught a waft of the scented oil you were wearing.

“Yes sir, my deepest apologies. It is an oil extract I had bathed in today. Had I known it would have distracted you, I would not have used it.” You stood frozen in place, not knowing how he would react.

Without warning, Jack reached up, engulfing the sides of your upper arms in his large hands. Pulling you closer against him, his face practically buried in the crook of your neck. He took another deep inhale, his hot breath exhaling onto your chest, down your dress.

Your heart could explode, and you didn’t even want to think about the face you were making. The feeling in between your legs said all that you needed to know. Your breath quickened, unable to stabilize itself. What game was this?? He had never played something like this before. A part of you wanted to believe it was genuine, but you could never know for sure with him.

“Is… is it to your liking, master Jack?” You stuttered out breathily, shaking from the intimacy.

Jack turned his head, his lips grazing the top of your ear, letting out a deep chuckle. “Hm, I think it’ll do. You smell exactly like the orange juice I drink at breakfast. I’m almost tempted to take a sip~”

You wanted to fold, to let him do what he wished. If he wanted to take a taste of you, you would let him. You’d let him swallow every bit of you until there was nothing left. You shut your eyes tightly, resisting every urge to further the situation. Your hands hovered instinctively, trembling with anticipation. You wanted to grab his sweet face and plant a sloppy kiss on his perfect lips. The very thought made your lips part, even your head slightly tilted toward his, almost closing the gap between you.

You shut your eyes.

“I… I can’t.” You thought to yourself, gritting your teeth in frustration.

There was a duty you swore to uphold. Ever since you agreed to work in the Horner household. An oath to always respect, pamper and protect each and every member of the house. Allowing Jack to fool around with a peasant such as yourself, would be disgraceful to the family name. Even if you wished to be with him more than anything else in the world. His reputation and status came first.

You took a slow breath in, steadying your heart, “you’re quite humorous tonight, sir” you spoke aloud, forcing a monotone voice.

Jacks smile faded, his eyes opened and looked at you from the side. His brow furrowed as he huffed.

“Tch, you’re no fun.”

A hurtful twinge pinched your heart, your eyes on the very of tearing up. “Fun”, right. Always a game.

You shut your eyes, wanting nothing more than to take it all back and turn the evening into a big glamorous blur. Jack leaned backward, taking in the full view of you.

“Shall I clear up dinner, master?” You asked Jack, the pain inside of you making your voice slightly tremble.

Jack kept staring to the side, avoiding eye contact with you “Fine. Retire to your quarters after you bring the dishes down. I can dress myself.”

Your vision slightly blurred from hot tears welling up. They’d fall inevitably, so you turned away quickly, collecting the plates and glass. Placing them onto the cart.

“Very well, sir. I’ll take my leave. Goodnight, master.” You spoke quickly, feeling the tears starting to put you in a state of hysteria. Your throat burned, your breath short.

<>-<>-<>-<>-<>

As you pushed the door open, leaving with the cart, the glimmer of your tears caught the light of Jacks desk lamp.

They sparkled, falling behind you. Jack noticed its glimmer, showing a look of regret. He reached out just as you closed the door behind you, a distant sound of sniffling emitting outside the door.

Jack retracted his hand, looking off to the side. He bent over, planting his face in his hands. After a deep inhale, he gurgled out an angry groan.

“The hell with it! She can do whatever she wants.” Jack growled, sloppy pulling off articles of clothing. He ripped off his coat, and pulled at his scarf, tossing them about the room in a tantrum.

He got up, grabbing his night wear “If she’s not interested, then it’s her loss!”

After getting ready for the night, Jack flopped down onto the bed, pulling the covers over himself, murmuring aloud.

“Whatever.” He sniffed, blinking a few times before sniffing again.

A waft of your scent caught him off guard, as he quickly searched for where it was. He placed his fingers against his nose, deeply inhaling your fruity scent. Jack relaxed in his angry stupor, taking in the air that you left behind.

“…whatever.” He muttered, a slight blush forming on his face.

~

The next morning, Jack awoke to the sound of knocking on his bedroom door. His eyes fluttered open, the ceiling slowing coming into focus. He quickly jerked upward, his head turned to face the door. It was morning, which meant that his maid was waiting to ready him for the day. That you were on the other side of the door.

He wasn’t ready to face you. In fact, he wanted to erase the entirety of last night. He had made you cry, but why?! He didn’t do anything wrong. Jack shook his head, it wasn’t right to just keep you waiting.

“Come in.” He beckoned, sitting in anticipation for the sight of you. Hopefully you were normal now and weren’t sad anymore.

Jacks look of longing twisted into confusion when the door opened, revealing his early morning visitor.

“Charles?! What the hell do you want? Where’s my maid?!” Jack sputtered in confusion.

Charlemagne gave him a slight bow “Good morning, sir. Apologies for her absence, for today is Tuesday, her day of leisure.”

Jack frowned, looking about the room “It’s her day off?”

“Precisely, sir. As you’ll remember, Tuesday is the day of leisure for all your staff and especially yourself. But no need to fret, I am honored and grateful to personally assist and serve you today” Charlemagne bowed deeper, his eyes slightly narrowed at Jacks mannerisms regarding you “What drink would you prefer this morning, master?”

“I don’t want any, just go downstairs and prepare my breakfast.” Jack pouted, getting up off the bed.

“At once, sir,” Charlemagne nodded, politely leaving Jack’s room. He made his way down the hall, his eyes narrowing. First the scented oil, now Jacks seemingly concerning nature about your whereabouts. Something was brewing about between you and master Jack. And he didn’t like the math it added up to.

<>-<>-<>-<>-<>

The events of last night kept spiraling in your head. It was worse that today was Tuesday, you’re one and only day off for the week. Which meant you had to be alone with your thoughts for the entire day. You couldn’t afford it to keep you from experiencing a day of rest. So you decided to go out on the town, putting on a simple blue dress from your bottom drawer. You didn’t own many outfits aside from the uniform you wore everyday. Just a simple gown, and a pair of slip-on walking shoes.

Although you couldn’t afford any of the adorable dresses that sat in the windows of the town market, that didn’t stop you from styling them yourself. You tied a white ribbon around your waist. A ribbon from one of your old aprons had broken off in a seam-ripping accident, leaving you with a long silky ribbon to do with what you pleased.

Grabbing your shopping basket, you headed out of the servants quarters and made your way down the cobbled road toward the town.

“It’d be nice if I found some more lavender oil. Hopefully they have some for sale.” You thought to yourself.

The main part of town was only five miles from your masters estate, a considerable walking distance, but simultaneously doable.

The market bustled from the morning crowd. Smells of fresh baked bread and hot skewers seasoned the air. Your stomached churned at its enticing aroma “oh, what the hell.” You chuckled to yourself, visiting the bakers and butchers. Assembling yourself lovely fixture of fresh sourdough and a hunk of pork belly.

You licked your lips, satisfied with such a fatty breakfast. After all, you wouldn’t get the opportunity for another week. As you licked your lips, the phantom sensation of Jacks hand trickled along your chin. The memory of the bite of potato, and his silver tongue resurfaced, making you blush slightly. After you had awoken this morning, you figured it had all been a dream. But the puffiness below your eyes confirmed it all to be true.

You cried yourself to sleep when you had reached your chambers. The pain of never being able to fully develop a proper relationship with Jack was too great. When Charlemagne had trained you so many years ago, he had made a very clear and direct point to never get emotionally involved with the masters. That you were easily replaceable, and had no matter of involvement with the family.

You tuned out the hustle and bustle of the market, too focused on your own personal miseries. Along beside the butcher, a small produce vendor sold various vegetables. You shifted through, purchasing a small lot of tomatoes and cucumber for your own snacking. Perhaps there was also some cheese for sale down past the garden shop.

Sure enough, wrapped in various papers and cloths were a variety of cured cheeses. You picked out a hunk of Parmesan and a jar of mozzarella. You smiled at the thought of snacking on your finds later after shopping. But first, you needed to visit the perfume tent for Jacks lavender.

As you passed the shop, a small voice emitted from around the corner.

“ …please… any food?….I’m so…hungry..”

You glanced toward the source of the weak plea. A person hunched over, wrapped in a ragged cloak. You watched as a bandaged hand crept out from within the cloak.

You look into the basket, feeling more than happy to share your early morning finds.

<>-<>-<>-<>-<>

After a short while, Jack made his way down the stairs. Not bothering to change out of his night wear since he didn’t need to go anywhere today. He made his way to the living space by the foyer, plopping down onto a large purple paisley couch. His nightgown loosely draped across his shoulders and chest.

“Charlemagne!” He shouted.

A short older man scuttled across the room, standing at attention, facing Jack Horner. The man held a large tray of various foods.

“Lovely to see you about, sir. I have readied you green tea, a smoked salmon accompanied by poached eggs. And to finish, a slice of your families famous plum pie.” Charlemagne suavely listed the contents of Jack’s morning meal.

Jack sniffed, staring at the platter with boredom “No baked ham?”

“Unfortunately sir, you had awoken before it could be prepared. A willing servant is currently out choosing the finest cuttings for your dining.” He responded timely and calmly.

Jack scoffed “Bring me my magic orb, I wanna see what they bring.”

“At once, sir.” Charlemagne scuttled away, quickly retrieving a large blanketed sphere from Jack Horner’s chambers.

Jack greedily snatched the orb, right before Charlemagne politely set it in front of him.

Jack unveiled the dark swirling orb. An image of his servant spiraled into view. They stood in front of the local butcher’s shop. Picking out a few thick slices of freshly cut ham.

“Hm, at least they got it before some pair of nasty little-“ His train of thought was cut, watching a familiar silhouette move away in the background.

“Enhance on the one in the blue dress.” He demanded, his hands gripping the orb tighter than before. His eyes fixated on what his heart held onto.

The orb did as its master desired, closely observing the woman in the blue dress. A large white bow sitting plainly on the small of her back.

“Show her face to me.” Jack whispered with excitement. Eager to be correct on his hunch.

The orb spiraled, revealing you. Once again, obeying without hesitation.

Looking almost like a complete stranger without your usual working attire.

Jack stared in awe. His heart palpitated out of his chest. Your loose hair danced in the morning breeze. You walked confidently, comfortably. Identical dimples on either side of your natural, smiling face. With your shopping basket and puffed sleeves, you almost looked doll-like.

“My little clementine, peacefully enjoying her normal morning shopping trip. And what do you have on there, hm?~”

That blue dress was a treat. The white bow wrapping around your waistline, like a Christmas gift just for his eyes.

Your voice emitted from the orb, speaking to someone.

“I have some food I can give you. Please, don’t push yourself. I can bring it to you.” You spoke softly, wearing a warm smile.

Jack grimaced at who you appeared to be taking to. “She shouldn’t even be talking to that thing. Who knows what diseases it might have.” He snubbed, referring to the cloaked individual wrapped in bandages.

You handed the person a tomato from your basket.

The persons hand reached out, avoiding the tomato completely, savagely grabbing your wrist. Pulling you with them into the darkened alley from which they emerged. Jacks eyes widened with fear, watching as the once weak-beggar, arise to their true height. Pinning you against the bricked alley wall.

“You’re pretty generous sweetheart,” The voice gurgled in a deep raspy tone, “I wonder what else you’d be willing to give me.”

The stranger reached behind him, pulling out a large knife from his cloak pocket.

Jack stood abruptly, dropping the magical orb.

“Charlemagne! Get the coach! NOW!” Jack threw on a deep purple robe, running toward the front door.

“At once, sir.” Charlemagne picked up on the urgency, running around the back of the manor. Hopping upon a coach riders seat, whipping two horses into pulling it around to the front.

Jack hopped in as the carriage sped down the driveway, and out onto the streets.

“Where to, sir?” Charlemagne turned his head, to the carriage window.

“The town market, past the garden shop! Go faster!” Jack shouted, anxiously looking toward the road.

Chapter Text

Your heart went cold with adrenaline. The basket laid on the ground, the vegetables scattered across the road.

The man twinkled a dagger in front of your face, grazing the blunt side against her cheek. You whimper from his cold touch.

“I have money. Just take it all, and I’ll leave.” You pleaded. Your voice shaky, holding back tears.

The dark alley fiend gurgled out a chuckle “How sweet of ya. How about I take all your money, plus a few of those beautiful fingers?”

You shook her head, trying to shout for help “N-no! Don’t! Somebody help-!” The strangers hand was swift against your throat, chopping a direct hit on your trachea. You felt a slight crunch in your throat, before the taste of blood scattered your tongue.

His knife started to dig into your fingers. You winced, feeling the blade deepen in your flesh. Droplets of blood started to trickle down your arm.

Your head felt faint, starting to blur the man in front of you.

Almost as if in slow-motion, you hit the ground. Feeling a stinging pain in the hand he had cut.

Your world fading around you.

“Stop the coach! I’ll kill you, asshole!” a familiar voice rang out in the distance.

“Am I dying? Is this the end?” You thought to yourself. Unable to feel your fingers or toes.

A blanket of cold darkness washed over you, as your world faded to black.

_________

Your eyes shot open, quickly looking around. You were back at the manor, standing in the middle of the hall. You blinked in confusion.

“Wha… What happened?” You spoke aloud, puzzled.

Your breath hitched, your voice sounded warped. Almost as if it was speaking from underwater.

A light shown brightly above you, beaming onto you like a spotlight. Its warm yellow glow suddenly twisting into a violent bright red hue. A terrifying growl came from down the hall underneath the flooring. A large mound quickly rolling toward your direction.

You turned to run, but the floor became quicksand. Sinking your feet into the marble floor. It approached quickly, only a few feet away from you.

You shut your eyes, avoiding eye contact with the unknown monster.

Moments passed, yet it did not attack. Realizing this, you hesitantly opened your eyes.

Standing in front of you, blinking inquisitively, was Jack Horner. You frowned, wondering why he’d be looking at you this way.

“How long till she’s awake?” He questioned. His voice also muffled as her own voice did earlier.

You looked away in confusion.

“Wait a minute. Something happened. I… I was shopping.. and then..”

As your memory started to resurface, the images of your nightmare started to spiral out of focus, replacing everything with bright white light.

_________

You slowly opened your eyes, squinting from the rooms brightness. A large white ceiling loomed above you, with a fan blowing cool air onto your face.

You moved a little, realizing you were lying down in a bed. Feeling a thick cotton blanket draped across your legs and midriff.

“Ah, she awakens.” A soft woman’s voice spoke from beside her.

You turned your head to see a nurse, ringing out a small towel in a bowl of water. The woman turns to face her, gently dabbing your forehead gently with the damp cloth.

You look past the nurse, trying to analyze the room you were in. Fresh folded linens were stacked on shelving units that leaned against the wall. A white table with various colored bottles atop its surface sat in the corner. Upon closer inspection, you noticed how far away everything was from the bed. You frowned, the bed you had been resting on was large, much larger than a kings sized bed. Your body only taking up a small fraction of its grandness.

“You’ve rested nearly six hours, dear. Well deserved from the injuries you suffered.” The woman spoke in a concerned tone.

“Injuries?” You pondered aloud, reaching behind your head, wincing at the touch of bandages that covered your head and fingers. Your teeth sucked in air, suddenly feeling the full force of pain.

“Now now dear, no futzing with the wrappings. Here, drink this.” The nurse handed you a small green bottle.

You took it hesitantly “Where am I?”

The nurse smiled patiently “The infirmary dear.”

You looked to the side. It was certainly a hospital of sorts. But it was clean and organized. You had never seen a room this large, or private.

“Which infirmary?” You interrogated.

“Mother Goose Medical Center.” She chimed.

Your eyes widened “But, MGMC is outside the town borders… who..-“ you looked at the bed. Taking in its grand size, remembering your dream.

“Who brought me here?”

The nurse gave you a kind smile “One of our most valuable patients. He insisted on you recovering in his personal wing.”

The strange voice from before you blacked out, then during your dream again. It could only be one person that was responsible.

“Drink up, miss. The health potion will do you good.” She cooed.

You deeply sighed at the circumstances, not quite sure on how to feel about Jacks sudden streak of heroism on your behalf. It was a complete turn around from last night.

And for that matter, how the hell did he know where you were?! You knew Jack had strange connections and strategies. Was someone watching you and reported to him? No, you’re too low in status for such treatment from Jack. Then how?

You decided not to dwell too much on the matter. You were safe and had all your limbs attached. That was enough. You opened the bottle, taking a few sips. The liquid was sour, like a sharp vinegar. You cringed at its flavor.

“I know it’s not the most popular flavor of potion, but it’ll get you back on your feet within the hour. Try to take it easy until then.” She turned and walked away from the bed, opening up the door and stepping out “You’re free to rest, but you’ve made an excellent recovery. Make sure to check out at the front desk once you’re comfortable enough to leave. Goodbye for now!” And with that, the nurse left you alone with your thoughts.

You looked over beside one of the shelves, seeing your dress from earlier resting on a hanger against the wall.

“I guess I’ll go back to the manor.”

<>-<>- (7 hours ago) -<>-<>

The carriage flew down the road at an excessive rate. Jack held you in his arms, cradling you gently as the wheels bumped over stone, jostling around the two of you inside. You lay unconscious on his lap, his lower robe stained with blood from the back of your head and cut fingers.

He could only stare at you, his face twitching with worry.

“How much longer, Charlemagne?!” Jack shouted out the window.

“Just about there sir, I’ve taken the quickest route to MGMC. We’ll arrive shortly. Miss y/n will be in good hands.” Charlemagne reassured.

Jack huffed, focusing his attention back on you. Your hair was messy from falling on the pavement, the dress muddied. You didn’t deserve to look like this.

You were a doll. And your place was the shelf.

His shelf.

Jack reminisced being a young boy his playroom. Setting up his toys in a manner of an audience, practicing performing for his parent’s pie stand. Dolls and various stuffed animals.

The spacious playroom always felt empty. He had nannies and servants that would watch him play, sometimes playing alongside him. But they never played the way he wanted them to.

The would just say what he expected them to say. Do what he expected them to do. His servants never had their own personality. And as he grew in age, they only changed the tone of their voice, but never treated him more respectfully.

But one.

Jack remembered, your parents had introduced their daughter as a new willing servant for the Horner estate. You had been assigned to observe the family for a week to get to know the masters. But just in those seven days, his evening pie had tasted a bit sweeter. You were about his age, only a year younger. Jack hadn’t been very close to many young ladies that lingered in his social circle. They had an air of poshness that agitated him. Too frilly to take a joke.

When you became an official maid of the house, you’d tell him cut-throat adventure stories, ones that his parents didn’t allow him to hear. He dreamed of being in the adventures you described, finding treasure and using magic. The curriculum that Charlemagne had created for him focused more on academics and music involvement. Jack’s parents forbade him from indulging in such excitement, figuring it would distract him from his education.

“If you’d like, I can memorize the next book I’m reading, and I’ll tell you what happens!” You’d whisper to him excitedly.

The two of you would hide while you retold the stories you read. You enjoyed to read books from the library, and retell their enticing tales. His parents always made sure to hire servants that were literate. It made life around the manor “less irritable” with servants that were smart enough to hold their own.

Jack almost wouldn’t be able to contain his laughter. Picking the best and most cunning spots to hide. Charlemagne would find the two of you, chasing you both down the hall while he laughed gleefully.

“You’re quite clever for a boy your age. I bet you’ll be trouble in the future.” You’d joke.

That memory made him slightly smile. You had no idea just how right you had been.

Then there was the fateful night. Your training as a maid of the household was nearly done. Somehow, it got leaked that you had been secretly telling Jack exciting stories of adventure. You had entered the manor after an hour of punishment with Charlemagne. Jack didn’t know what fully happened to you. All he knew was that it involved a servants handbook and a horse lead. You behaved differently after that. No more stories, no more laughing and hiding. You were just a blank slate with lesions on your arms.

As you walked down the hall. Jack had asked you to play with him one last time before you left to do chores. He did not fully understand why you said what you said at the time. But your words forever remained in his heart.

“The young master cannot play with peasants. He should focus on his studies.” You spoke with an emptiness behind your eyes. The sparkle in your eye replaced with a hollow void.

It was as though you’d become a reflection of all the other servants. Zombified into the average worker. Your words stung his ears, causing his eyes to water. Sadness turned to frustration, turned to hate.

His fists clenched until they were white, storming into his bedroom. Jack punched holes in the wall, ripped down the curtains. Throwing furniture about the room in a furious tantrum. Nothing ever went his way. Now the only fun thing in his life was ironed into what his parents wanted.

The next morning, his parents treated it as though you were the one solely at fault.

“She needed correction as a servant. It would have happened eventually, if not here, then a different home.” His mother spoke shallowly.

“Our little Jack has never enjoyed playing with broken toys, such as that maid. If he enjoys his toys enough, he requests for them to be fixed. Dontcha’, boy?” His father pointed out bluntly, patting the top of Jacks head.

Jack ran his fingers gently in your hair, checking your neck pulse with his finger.

Still beating. He sighed with relief.

“Master Jack, we have arrived at Mother Goose.” Charlemagne hollered back.

Jack kicked open the door of the carriage, your lifeless body curled in his arms as he ran into the building.

“You’re not broken,” Jack muttered to himself “You never were.”

<>-<>-<>-<>-<>

The following morning brought an air of uncertainty and stillness. You sat up in bed, back in your servants quarters. Compared to the stark white walls back at Mother Goose Hospital, your wooden walls were much easier on the eyes. It was much more welcoming from its familiarity.

You hesitated getting ready for your usual mornings with Jack. All of what happened the other day surfaced so many questions. And you were too afraid to ask them directly to him. You looked down at your hand, a wide scar stretched across your fingers. A phantom pain pulsed through it as you remembered the dagger. You lightly touched the scar, trailing along its edge.

At the very least, you should thank Jack for saving you before something irreversible occurred. Then he might open up into explaining himself. There was a high possibility that he wouldn’t. In fact, you were certain he’d just keep it to himself.

You got ready for the day and made your way into the manor, up the stairs and down the hall toward Jacks room. You stood outside the door, lifting your first to knock. Before you could even touch the door, it started to open. Startled, you stepped back to give room to whoever was leaving.

It was Charlemagne. But something was different. He looked down at you with a more intense disgust than he usually did. His eyes narrowed at you, the middle of his brow and the bridge of his nose becoming one. You coward away from him, curling your hands against your chest.

“The master isn’t in need of you this morning.” He spoke bitterly.

You swallowed, feeling the uncomfortable weight of his glare. Jack didn’t want to see you? Was he unhappy? “No? Well. Should I..”

“Charles! Who’s at my door?” Jack bombarded from within the bedroom.

Charles turned his head, being careful to hide you out of sight from the doorway “No one you need to worry about, master.”

You sunk lower at that remark. He was right. You were no one Jack should worry about. He had more important things to focus on. You’ve been too much of a burden lately. You uncurled yourself, trying to stand up straight “If he doesn’t need me, then I’ll go.” You bowed before turning to leave. A satisfied smirk curled at the corner of Charlemagne’s mouth.

Jack tumbled forward, pushing him out of the doorway, watching as you walked down the hall.

“Just where the hell do you think you’re going?!” Jack shouted at you.

You froze, turning to look at Jack, who was now standing in the middle of the hall, still in his nightwear. Charlemagne looked at Jack up and down, baffled from his actions.

“I’m not needed today, so I’ll go ahead and start my afternoon chores.”

Jack crossed his arms, tapping his foot. He slowly turned and looked down at Charlemagne, who still looked shocked.

“So, since when did you start speaking for me?” He gritted his teeth.

Charlemagne bowed deeply toward Jack “Never, master. You had requested that I take over the work from your maid this morning. I merely reiterated your request to her.”

Jack turned, pointing at you “You.”

You straightened up, turning to fully face him “Sir?”

“You’re coming with me to the factory.”

“What?!” Both you and Charlemagne cried in bewilderment.

Chapter Text

Your jaw slacked open. Did you hear that right?! Jack was bringing you to work with him! You’d only ever seen the pie factory through framed photographs that hung along the halls of the manor. The thought of being able to see it in person was thrilling. The ability to witness Jacks professional business side was be something to behold. You looked over at Charlemagne, for the first time you’d ever seen, he was caught in his own words.

“Master Jack, as your family’s butler and personal guardian. I urge you to keep your servant here while you work. She would-“

“What was that? Charles, I swear there’s a bug in here. ‘Cause all I can hear right now is an annoying buzzing in my ear.” Jack interrupted, looking over at you with a playful smile. His hand stroking his chin in a very exaggerated manner.

Charlemagne’s jaw slacked open, he stood in utter bewilderment. You bit down on your lips, trying your damndest not to show that you found this whole scene quite amusing. Everyone knew that Charlemagne was a high-ranking servant, but at the end of the day, that’s all he is; a servant. You found it relieving to know someone who was able to put him in his place.

“Hm, looks like that pesky bug isn’t around anymore. Charles, go see to my breakfast, my maid will join me in the dining hall.” Jack stood up straight, brushing out the wrinkles in his gown, playing a serious and posh accent. Seemingly to mock how Charlemagne speaks.

You lowered your head, you couldn’t contain your amusement. You were smirking uncontrollably, and couldn’t let Charlemagne see your face. It’d be a few lashings if he knew you found Jacks impression funny enough to smile at.

Charlemagne closed his mouth, gaining back his composure “At once, sir.” He turned and left, walking toward your direction. His face twisted in a sinister scowl. The angry look he wore dropped a cold stone in your stomach. He rarely looked so pissed. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to endure that wrath later.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Jack dropped his arms and sighed “I dunno what’s been with him lately, he needs to retire already.” You looked over at Jack, a bit confused with his remark. You weren’t sure if he meant it in a genuine or halfhearted way.

“Hey.” Jack spoke aloud.

You bowed politely “Yes, master?”

Jack rolled his eyes “Stop bowing to me, it’s cringey.”

You blinked a few times before responding “I do it to show my upmost respect for you, sir.”

“Well, stop. I already know you’d do anything I ask.” Jack looked at the wall and reached up, awkwardly scratching at the back of his head.

He never seemed bothered by it all the other times you’ve done it before. Regardless, you refrained yourself from bowing before speaking.

“If it is no longer needed, then I shall refrain from bowing to you, master Jack.”

“Alright whatever, just dress me already.” He waved his hand in front of your face before marching back into the room. With an extra skip in your step, you happily followed behind him.

After a few minutes, you had Jack dressed in another charming outfit suited to his likeness. As you closed up the remaining buttons on his vest, Jack looked down at you.

“How’re those fingers?” He questioned.

You hadn’t told anyone about the incident. Not even Maisie or Douglas. Did he know he was basically giving himself away? Or was it his intention for it not to be secretive. You glanced at the scar, “I’ve got a pretty nasty scar. But it doesn’t get in the way of my duties, I don’t even feel it at all, see?” You widened your hand, revealing your palm to him. You lifted your fingers, about to touch the scar again, before Jack grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t.”

“Sir, it’s healed over. I wouldn’t harm myself by touching it.”

Jack pulled your arm closer, you tripped forward, closer to him. He inspected it closely, leaving you to watch as he studied the healed gash across your hand. You felt yourself blush, memories of him being so close to you that day suddenly resurfacing. His eyes stared hard at your injury, almost studying its every indent.

He snorted out a puff of air, disgruntled at the sight of your hand “That potion wasn’t suppose to leave a scar. Damn fairy.” Jack muttered, disgruntled.

You frowned, not quite able to hear what he was saying under his breath “What was that, sir? I couldn’t understand that.”

Jacks eyes shot up at you, “Nothing! Are you done with my vest yet?!”

You shook your head, quickly finishing up the last two buttons on his vest, stepping back to show your completion. He stood up from his bed, turning to face his vanity mirror. Jack ran his fingers along the front of his blazer and embroidered vest, giving himself a smug look. You couldn’t help but smile when he admired himself. He had every right to, he was beautiful. Your heart gave a slight thump as you silently admired him.

After the two of you left the room, you made your way down the hall toward the dining room. Jack sat in his usual spot, at the very end of the table. You took your usual spot as well, out of the way against the wall, awaiting any orders.

Not a moment later, Douglas made his timely grand entrance, meal cart in-hand. He passed by you, giving you a small wink before pausing at the table. One by one, unloading the prepared breakfast platters onto the white table cloth.

Today’s breakfast was a tray of soft scrambled eggs, accompanied by hunks of bellavitano cheese, baked butter croissants and a red pepper jelly spread. It all looked so colorful against the white table cloth it rested on. Jack wore a bored expression as usual, shooing Douglas off to the kitchen.

You humbly stood against the wall, taking small glances at Jack as he cleaned every platter. It warmed you to know he was eating well, and that he enjoyed the food enough to finish it all.

“Hey.” Jack hollered at you.

You jumped “Me?”

“Who else?”

You walked over to him, standing just a few feet away from his chair “Yes master, how may I be of service?”

Jack held up a small piece of the croissant, layered on top was a bit of the cheese and pepper jelly. A wave of deja vu washed over you.

“Eat this.” He ordered.

You looked up, giving him a look of ‘you know I can’t’.

He stared back at you, throwing back a look of ‘I’m the boss’, which gave you goosebumps (in a good way~). You had no choice but to oblige.

You reached over, gently holding out your hand. Jack pulled the piece away, raising his eyebrow at you, smiling.

“C’mon, take it.” He teased.

You huffed a breath before reaching further, he lead you closer and closer, taking the offering further from your grasp. Until you were practically touching stomachs. Jack chuckled at your struggle before bringing the croissant down, right in front of your lips.

You wobbled backward, groaning at his sense of humor. Sheepishly opening your mouth, you let him place it on your tongue. His thumb lightly grazing your bottom lip as he retreated. You almost choked at the contact, but stayed focused on chewing. The bread almost melted in your mouth. The soft funk of the bellavitano paired so sweetly with the heat of the pepper jelly. You closed your eyes, adoring the combination of the sweet and spicy flavors.

“How is it?” Jack spoke inquisitively, his voice gentle and steady.

“It’s..” You opened your eyes, looking directly into Jacks “… delicious.” You spoke breathily, beaming from happiness.

“Oh, yeah? I bet you enjoy tasting what I give you~” Jack spoke with a certain familiar savory tone.

You gulped, feeling that similar tension you had experienced only a few days ago. Did he enjoy sharing his food with you? Or.. did he like your reactions? You weren’t sure. yet you really wanted to find out. More importantly, how did he know where you were when you were in trouble. There was no time like the present, you had his full attention with no one else around.

“Sir.”

He dropped his flirtatious tone “Hm, what?”

“I, well…” you began to speak, awkwardly glancing around the dining room. Your eyes landing on a dark silhouette. Standing at the top of the staircase, was Charlemagne. Glaring at you from over the top of his spectacles, the light from the dining room reflecting from his thin lenses. All of the words you wanted to say instantly retreated with Charlemagne watching you. His icy cold glare made your lips press together.

Jack frowned in confusion “Well? Well what?”

Your head turned back to Jack, giving him an awkward expression “I-I’m just very glad to serve such a generous master.”

Jack blinked a few times before rolling his eyes “Ugh, just go get my carriage ready, you weirdo.”

You caught yourself from bowing, quickly turning to head to the side of the manor where the horse stable was. The clacking of your shoes against the marble floor echoed through the foyer. You grinned from his name-calling. In fact, you couldn’t agreed more with that statement.

You stepped out back, making your way over to the side of the manor. You peeked around the corner, looking for movement inside. A tall burly man was dumping buckets of water into the drinking troughs.

You walked close enough until he noticed you “Good morning Deckard, Master Jack would like his carriage readied as soon as you’re able.”

Deckard tipped his straw hat to you “And a good morning to you, miss y/n. I’ll have the carriage ready after Freckles and Knight have a drink.”

You smiled at the white horse with brown spots all over its tan body. It stood by a black stallion with a silky mane. Their soft noses wiggling about as they sipped water from their trough. You walk over and pat Knight on the head. Sometimes Deckard would spend his pittance on fresh carrots as a treat for the equestrian duo. You both shared that trait, using your hard earned money just to spend it on something at work. His kindness was admirable.

“Say, what would you be up to after tending to Jack?” Deckard leaned against a wooden beam of the stable, messing up his short curly brown hair only to smooth it back.

“I’ll probably retire to my quarters afterward, the day tends to wear me out.” A white lie, but a vague enough excuse to dismiss another one of his potential date offers. He was a sweet guy, but your tastes preferred more of the savory type.

“It’s a shame, if he doesn’t wear you out so much today, maybe you’d like to join me at the Dragons Tavern?”

You knew it. A simple brush off wouldn’t be enough to let him down.

“Master Jack doesn’t wear me out, Deckard. And I’ll be busy tonight because I’m accompanying him to the factory today.” You flaunted your proof of disinterest, turning away from him.

“The factory? Why in tarnation would he need you there for?” Deckard raised an eyebrow, gently leading the horses over to the Horner family coach.

Even you didn’t know the answer to that question.

“I’m sure he has a good reason.” You nodded, following behind him.

Deckard shook his head “Probably lookin’ for more privacy with you, if you ask me.” He spoke in a disappointed tone, you felt an air of judgement surround you.

“The master doesn’t think of me in that way. I’m just here to serve and provide anything he needs.” You huffed, not liking the direction Deckard was taking the conversation. Even if he was a little jealous, he had no right to assume things about you or Jack.

Deckard finished fitting the leather reigns around Knight and Freckles, giving them a pat on the back. He side-glanced toward you, smirking “Yeah, thats exactly the reason he wants the two of you to be alone.” He lifted himself onto the carriage, taking the reins in his hands.

You scowled at Deckard, your face flaring into a red blush “Why don’t you mind your business.” You muttered, hoping up onto the drivers seat next to him.

Deckard decided to leave it at that, not wanting to poke you further into hating him. He whipped the reins, guiding Freckles and Knight around the manor toward the front entrance. You crossed your arms, being sure to lean as far away from Deckard as possible.

Jack stepped outside in a perfectly timed manner. Straightening out his coat, he looked up at you in the drivers seat.

“Why are you up there?” Jack questioned, crossing his arms.

You awkwardly looked to the side “This is where I’m supposed to sit.” You think that’d be obvious considering status.

“Don’t give me that crap, come down here.” He demanded.

His fight against your place in the household was starting to concern you. Every single servant takes you’ve done a million times was unacceptable all of the sudden.

But no one speaks against Jack Horner. So you turned around, carefully hanging your legs over the side of the carriage, ready to hop down. Before your feet could touch the ground, you felt a pair of two large hands wrap around your waistline. An electric current shit up your back, his pinkies resting on your love-handles. You gulped, starting to feel that re-occurring blush appear again. Deckard raised his eyebrows at the sight of Jack grasping you in such a way.

“S-sir, I am very capable of getting myself down.” You turned your head, mumbling in confusion.

He pulled you toward him, catching you in his arms. You laid there defenseless, frozen in shock. His body felt warm and cushioned. You know you’ve felt that same sensation before. It must’ve been when he carried you to the hospital. Your breath hitched, looking up at him. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“You think I care?” Jack glanced up at Deckard, “Take me to work.” He ordered.

He carefully opened the door to the carriage, scooting onto one of two red velvet seat. All while holding you bride-style. His hold on you slightly tightened as the carriage took off down the driveway and onto the road.