~The Queen's Butler...Arrogant~ (Charles Grey x Reader)

Chapter 1: Enter the female butler

What do I think of the Earl Charles Grey?

Let's see...annoying, arrogant and self centered.

There really isn't much more to it. Not a day goes by where I don't hear him whine, (Y/n), I want food. (Y/n), I'm bored. (Y/n)...enough with it already! I'm sick and tired of hearing that same vexatious voice nag me for another duty that he could very well easily achieve himself if he'd only try. But really, I'm not sure what I was expecting working with the earl of such a prestigious family. One could call him a brat even. How he managed to attain the status of the Queen's butler is long lost to me, what with him being 24 and still unable to make his own meals.

An obnoxious knock at the door of my office startled me, which in turn caused the steel fountain pen I was holding against paper to spurt out much more of it's black substance than I would've liked, spreading a nasty black puddle that I was sure was going to stain the desk I was working on. The knock was followed by a sickening voice, one I wish wouldn't call my name so often.

"(Y/n)!"

Now, not only did I have a mess to clean up, but also a child to take care of. A 24 year old child with the status of The Queen's butler.

"(Y/n), I know you're in there!"

If I was spiteful enough, I could've easily have said that I hated him. But I knew that I needed to keep inner peace somehow, and expressing such a strong form of dislike would only cause me to spiral into insanity. Not that I was very far off such a state, courtesy of the silver-haired man child.

"Go. Away," I commanded, trying desperately to contain the anger that was swirling about my tummy like a great big ball of flames as I clenched my teeth tightly together to hold it all in.

"But why? I so enjoy your company, having lunch without you just wouldn't be the same!"

That sickeningly sweet voice came from the body who's neck I couldn't help but visualize strangling. Every single day that I was trapped in this awful palace was another day I had to restrain myself from harming and murdering Earl Grey. And believe me when I say it was getting harder to do so by the second.

"Perhaps that's because there would be no lunch for you to eat. You seem to forget that Phipps also has the ability to cook, Grey," I began, pulling the handkerchief from my breast pocket as I began dabbing at the inky mess, "Or, you could, you know, learn a little something in the area of the culinary arts for yourself. It'd do this entire palace a rather large favor."

"But if I learnt how to cook, then you'd spend less time with me!" He whined.

I could practically see the puppy dog pout face he was no doubt pulling, and the fact that I had that expression of his ingrained into my memory made me want to rip every last one of my hairs out. I wanted to kick, scream, cry, for the fact alone that he occupied such a large portion of my thoughts and I could do absolutely nothing about it.

"I think that it'd be for the better," I insisted, groaning as the ink soaked through my handkerchief and into the fingertips of my black gloves.

The upsetting thing is that this isn't the first time Grey has ruined a pair of my perfectly good gloves, and the stories are too many for me to ever remember just how many times he's been the cause of me having to throw out yet another pair of specially made gloves. And while they are black, they're still not dark enough to mask the stains of much darker ink, and I don't know why they didn't use darker material when I live with someone like this.

"(Y/n) please! I'm starving and I need food in my system now or I'll crash! Please!"

His whining was the equivalent to chalk against a board and cutlery against a porcelain plate. I wanted so badly to kick down my door just to beat that boy to a pulp and watch him scream like the little brat he was.