Requested by @Victoria22candy (I hope this is what you wanted!)

master of the manor x f. reader

The doors opened and shut by themselves, the tables and chairs had minds of their own, and the master of the manor was likely insane. Even still, she chose to work at Alcott Manor as a maid. It was the only way to avoid being homeless, exposed to the elements, and while (Y/N) was constantly afraid, she supposed it was better than the alternative.

Sinclair Alcott was a scary man, and the young female had only seen him a few times. He was tall, imposing, broody, and beyond that, there was a certain air around him that told (Y/N) to stay as far away as she could.

While cleaning the marble countertops in the kitchen that seemed to be sparsely used, the young maid felt eyes on her, but then again, she always did. She didn't know if the house was haunted or if she was just paranoid. She was right to be skeptical because someone was watching her, with great intensity, and even greater interest.

The Master of the manor, Sinclair himself, had a slight obsession with his newest maid. He couldn't help himself. She was just so young, so pretty, and more than that, so gentle. The male presumed she was submissive, a trait he greatly preferred since all he'd known in his life was control.

He was beyond attracted to (Y/N), and they'd never even met. He'd just been using his powers to watch her from the shadows, to oversee her every action. Sinclair needed control, and his newest maid's submissiveness sent waves of possessiveness corsing through him. He needed to have her all to himself, to control her.

Walking down the hall, his polished shoes padded against the pristine carpet. He ran into an old maid on his way to his study, the woman looking him in the eye.

If Sinclair Alcott hated anything, it was someone else being "disrespectful." He expected everyone to bow to him in his presence and to avoid eye contact until he spoke to them.

His anger threatened to simmer over, but he quickly composed himself, knowing that this maid could serve a higher purpose. He recognized her as one of the head maids, but that was about all he could recall.

He didn't care for anyone unless it messed with his power, so it was no wonder he didn't remember or care for the maid before him. That's what made his attraction to (Y/N) so interesting though because she was just another person, nothing special.

Yet here he was, obsessed with having her all to himself, his own person to hold and live with. It was a foreign concept to Sinclair, but he embraced it and wanted the maid's affection and submission more than anything.

Shaking his head lightly, he turned back to the maid, his dark eyes staring her down. "I want you to reassign Ms. (L/N) to my room and study."

He walked away before the older woman could respond, and she just stood slack-jawed, shocked that he'd talked to her. Mr. Alcott hadn't spoken a word to any of his staff ever, so the older maid could only assume that the maid he requested had greatly upset him, when it was just the opposite.

Making her way to (Y/N) who was stil cleaning the kitchen, the old woman shuddered as she approached the girl. Once behind her, she cleared her throat, somewhat startling the focused girl. She smiled tentatively and waited for the other maid to speak.

"Ms. (L/N), Master Alcott has reassigned you. You will now be cleaning his office and bedroom." The older maid wanted to say more, to warn her of the dangers of Sinclair, but she knew better. She'd been under his care for years and had seen what he was capable of.

He once killed a maid for daring to respond to him. The memory was vivid in the older maid's mind, and (Y/N) frowned as the woman in front of her stared into space. The younger female went up to her and gently placed her hands on her shoulders, greatly startling the other maid.

The older woman just jolted backwards as (Y/N) looked on in concern, "Are you alright, miss?" Shaking her head, the older maid ran off, leaving the girl upset and worried about the woman's state.

Sinclair, having watched this encounter via his powers only smirked. (Y/N) was so sweet, so gentle, and while he was the opposite, he couldn't help but desire what she held: love, affection, care, and above all, submission.

Never before had he seen someone so gentle, so quiet, so obedient, but now that he had the cute younger maid, he was sure that he never wanted to let her go. It was usually true that opposites attracted, and it was especially true in the case of (Y/N) and Sinclair.

(Y/N), having finished cleaning the kitchen, left to go clean Sinclair's office and bedroom. While she was nervous about what this all meant, she knew that she had to follow the orders given to her, otherwise she'd be out of a job, or worse, facing Sinclair Alcott's wrath.

Once she reached the office, she found the dark, towering doors locked and closed, so she knocked gently on them. Sinclair, having been watching the young maid make her way to him smirked. Now he could do what he'd been wanting to for so long: to see her up close and order her to do his bidding.

Polished shoes pounding against the carpet, he opened the door, revealing (Y/N)'s (e/c) eyes and her lean frame. As their eyes met, (e/c) clashing with dark brown, both of them stood frozen.

Sinclair felt that his heart had just started being, having felt nothing for so long. The girl before him was stunning, and her cute mannerisms that he'd been secretly observing only heightened this fact. (Y/N), on the other hand, was more than slightly intimidated by the male before her. He stood tall, looking down upon her, and his impossibly dark eyes made it seem as if he were considering killing her, when it was just the opposite.

He was a prominent figure, and his wealth and power shook the young girl to her core. It didn't help that the rumors she'd heard only slidified the fact that he was mercilessly cold, the way he was blankly staring at her proving that the false stories were true.

(Y/N) waited for him to speak, knowing that if she were to speak first, he'd react in a harsh way while Sinclair just looked at her. In all honesty he wanted to hear her speak to him, to address him as her superior, but he knew she wouldn't since she was a rule-follower to the tee.

It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her obedience, he just found himself wanting her to react to him in a genuine way instead of robotically reacting to him. He wanted more from the maid in front of him, he wanted everything from her.

Tilting his chin up, Sinclair finally spoke, breaking the fragile silence, "Ms. (L/N), you're to clean my office, then my bedroom, and once you're finished, you are to join me in the dining room for a late dinner."

His own words startled himself. Sinclair hadn't meant to say them, they just slipped out. Already the girl before him had made him feel things he never had before. Never before had he ever wanted company for dinner, but he wasn't as unwelcome to the idea as he thought he'd be.

He wated to be closer to her, and the desire to control her while still prevalent faded, if only by a little bit. Perhaps it was due to the fact that the overwhelming control Sinclair Alcott had over everything had given him more stress than he could handle. Perhaps he needed someone to ease his burdens, someone to vent to, or maybe even someone who he couldn't control.

Stumbling back slightly, his own thoughts spiraling, Sinclair paused. (Y/N) could only gape at him, finding his loss of compose and invitation to dinner appalling. Everyone knew Sinclair ate alone, and everyone knew he lived life in a composed, bleak, emotionless manner.

Gulping, the young girl nodded, "I'd be glad to clean your quarters and join you for dinner, Mr. Alcott." The addressed male only nodded, striding past her, out of his office. (Y/N) watched as he strode down the hallway, and while Sinclair tried to keep himself from slipping, he found it harder and harder to fight the urge to go back to the girl and tell her what he felt about her.

(Y/N) entered his office, still slightly shaken from their encounter. While she wasn't so much afraid as she was shocked, she was still wary of Sinclair and his intentions for her.

All she'd known since working under him was fear and paranoia, and whenever she encountered the male, those feelings only increased. However, now that she'd truly spoken to him, he seemed different, and (Y/N) now saw him in a different light, not that she wasn't still afraid of him.

Sinclair was still unknown to her, and while she sought to know more about him, she knew that she was just a lowly maid and should do as she was told.

Beginning to move around the pristine and dark office, (Y/N) fell into a rhythm. She'd dust his desk space, the shelves of books and filed behind his desk, then she'd organize the scattered papers, making sure to place things in neat piles. The young maid would take out the trash, clean his windows, and even went as far as to write him a small note.

Sinclair meanwhile was trying not to lose himself. His thoughts kept going back to her, the beautiful maid in his office. She was submissive, gentle, and attentive. She was more than that though, she was someone he needed to be close to.

His rignal goal of control was now overshadowed by the need to just be with her. His cruelty had seemed to tame in just a matter of hours, and it practically tore the imposing man apart. What did he really want? Control? Power? Or did he just want someone to love him?

(Y/N), knowing nothing of his inner turmoil, moved to his bedroom, washing the sheets and his dirty clothes. She made his bed, organized his closet, and wrote him another note. It only took her a few hours, but she was soon done with cleaning Mr. Alcott's most personal spaces.

She was still confused as to what he wanted from her. He wouldn't just order her to clean his living spaces out of the blue. He wanted something from her. Perhaps he wanted a different maid, or perhaps she'd done something wrong, and he was waiting for the right time to punish her.

Whatever he wanted was a mystery, and the fact that she knew almost nothing about him showed that the male himself was a mystery too. Everything around him was obscured: the way the doors opened themselves for him, the way he could know about everything everywhere, how he could seemingly control every action within the mansion without even moving.

(Y/N) wrung her hands tightly as she wandered down the hall, finding her way down the stairs and into the living room. Much to her surprise, Sinclair was sitting at the head of the table already, his dark locks falling into his darker eyes.

He looked torn, stressed, and didn't appear to even register her appearance. Sinclair Alcott was losing control, the thing he'd always had. Perhaps it was how the maid before him gave him the control he desired then ripped it away in one breath.

The way she was submissive and gentle served to only rip away any shred of authority he had. What was happening to him? If this was what feeling felt like, he wished to go back to feeling nothing but superiority and power.

(Y/N), deciding to take a risk, took small steps towards Sinclair. He seemed lost, stuck in his head, but still she approached him. He continued to not notice her, and once she reached him, she knelt down next to him.

She certainly felt his inner turmoil and was concerned for him. Despite her fear and wariness of the male, she still sought to help him. It was just in her nature, to care for all those around her, even inanimate objects. She just felt the desire to take care of the things and people around her since she'd never actually been taken care of herself

It was beyond ironic how everything neglected or mistreated only sought to love others and give back to the world. Why must it be so that the kindest things are the most mistreated?

(Y/N) shook her head, trying to blot out any reference of the past in order to focus on the task at hand: taking care of Mr. Alcott.

Her hands slowly rested on his shoulders, and (Y/N) flinched as his eyes snapped to hers. She expected him to be angry at her for approaching him without orders, but he just looked confused, and somewhat longing.

The younger maid pulled back, seeing that SInclair had been pulled out of his stupor, but he grasped her hand. He was once again shocked by his actions but found them to be delightful.

The feeling of (Y/N)'s hand in his only solidified the feelings that had been brewing in him. He was in love. He didn't know how such a powerful emotion could overwhelm him so quickly, but he didn't completely mind it.

(Y/N) had been the only thing he couldn't control. He couldn't control the way her gentle movements and attentiveness, as well as care, forced his heart to beat for the first time. He certainly couldn't control how just catching a glimpse of her using his power sparked the slightest emotion of desire in him.

Frozen in fear, the young girl just thought that she was about to be killed for touching Mr. Alcott and shut her eyes tightly. Sinclair, upon noticing her fear, frowned. He'd have to fix her apprehension.

He knew that he was intimidating and before they could start any relationship, he needed to make her comfortable first. He was never a kind man, never comforting, never encouraging. He was always the opposite, and he was fine living that way, until he saw (Y/N).

As he grasped her hand, pulling her ever so closer, he realized something once more. He didn't long for control over (Y/N), he longer for equality, for a relationship. He wanted a love that would serve to give him life and to show him what it meant to be free.

He didn't want to have the ever-so-present control he was born with anymore. Now that (Y/N) had shown him what he could have, he didn't want to let that feeling go. She made him feel things he never had before, she made him feel alive, with true purpose.

His eyes scanned over her form, and he was finally able to pull her against him. His voice was soft as he spoke, not a rough-edged blade, but as light as a feather. "(Y/N) you don't have to fear me, I promise."

The young maid only froze, unsure of his words. Sinclair frowned at her resistance, but only waved his free hand, a chair moving according to his wishes. The plush furniture placed itself beside (Y/N), and she looked between it and Mr. Alcott.

He just smiled at her cute apprehension, "Please, sit (Y/N), we have a lot to talk about."

Perhaps the control so intricately women into the master of the Alcott Manor was finally disregarded. The spell of love had overcome Sinclair Alcott, and he seemed fine with releasing his hard-earned control in order to possess the one thing he never knew he needed.