#servant dynamic

[bg3womenconfessions]

I want to be Jaheira's serf. I'll take care of the home, cook warm meals, and look after her children so she never has to worry more than she already does. When she returns home, I'll be there to slip off her boots, give her shoulders a good massage, and whisper that her bath is ready. I’ll wash her hair, help her keep her braids neat, wake her up with breakfast in bed. She deserves to be cherished like the queen she is.

[dandelion-emblems]

Servant Power Dynamic

No Image ID, Help Appreciated!

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For those who are servant-like, fulfill the "Servant" (power) dynamic in their relationship. Whether that be NSFW or SFW is up to personal interpretation.

This is neither a CisID or a TransID, use how you like.

(Pt: This blog has no DNI, Please follow your own when interacting <3 /End Pt)

[fraternum-momentum]

give me your complete and unwavering devotion.

[sapphicdalliances]

there are so many people who keep @-ing me lately who are obsessed with the idea of WWX being this underprivileged victim who suffered unfairly at every turn…

no, he wasn't a "scholarship kid" in contrast to JC being a trust fund kid, his family paid for him to go to college exactly the same as his brother, where he had the confidence to behave with absolutely no regard for consequences; before the war he carried a platinum credit card with JFM's name on it and he had job security from like age 10 as JC's future head of R&D

no, he was never treated as a servant, he was the HEAD DISCIPLE of a top 5 sect and afforded much of the privilege and respect that came with that. after the war he was JC's right hand, being second in the sect only to the sect leader. even in the burial mounds he never did a single chore and in fact got lightly scolded for creating more chores

he wasn't hated by the cultivation world because he was an uppity servant trying to climb beyond his class and making the gentry look bad through his own integrity and righteousness, he was hated because he was extremely powerful and super scary and violated a ton of social taboos and behaved erratically in public and seemed beholden to nobody

like girl… you're thinking of Meng Yao!

[woahjo]

the first time the high lord katsuki touches you, he drags his fingers lightly over your clothes. his palms slide against your shoulders, your waist, your hips, and your thighs. he's careful to not overstep, moving slowly over your body as if any sudden movement would shatter the illusion.

he'd asked you to come look at something on his desk. a book or some other thing, and you'd obliged because you appreciate the things he shares with you. but you had stood so close to him, so close that katsuki could smell you, that he could lean forward a little and put his face in your hair.

"tell me if you don't like it," he'd mumbled, his voice tense and gravelly. there was a bite to it, a nervous one that he'd struggled to conceal.

then, he'd moved his hands to touch your hips. lightly at first, then with a bit more urgency. you had not turned around to face him, instead content to let him touch you this way. almost like worship.

his hands now roam gingerly over your clothing, catching momentarily on the heavy fabric before letting it fall again. he spends a lot of time simply feeling your shape, greedy hands that tremble with his desire to take you. katsuki touches you because you let him, because you want him to.

katsuki doesn't fuck you today, but he does other things. he lets his hand slip to your inner thigh and you part your legs with a small step to the side. neither of you speaks a word and the room is so silent save for your breathing that you could hear a pin drop. kirishima is outside of the door, but he won't enter unless he's called. the silence and secret of this wraps you both in a film you can't seem to break free from.

slowly, he pulls your dress up to run his fingers along the inside of your thigh, raising goosebumps along your skin and causing you to shutter and lean back against him. he sighs a little, leaning forward so that his breath hits the shell of your ear. then, he places a small kiss on your exposed part of your shoulder where it meets your neck.

then, his fingers dip to cup your cunt, pressing lightly until he finds the spot that makes you gasp and lean forward, bracing yourself with both hands on the table. his thick finger rubs circles into your slit, pulling aside your underwear to collect your wetness on his fingers before pressing it again to that sensitive bud.

you sigh, letting your head fall forward and katsuki steps closer to you, close enough that you can feel his hardness against your ass. he groans when he realizes the extent of your wetness, no doubt thinking about how long you've been like this, how long he's let you go unsatisfied and neglected.

katsuki doesn't make an effort to enter you, nor does he move his fingers from your clit. he just rubs circles into it, finding a pattern that makes you tremble and sticking with it. you sigh softly as he touches you, your skirt hiked up over his wrist and legs spread ever so slightly to give him room to pleasure you. choked moans and whines threaten to escape your lips and you can feel katsuki's face and breath beside your head, his eyes fixed on you as he watches your expression twist into one of mounting pleasure.

his hand comes up to brace your hip when you get close, pulling your body against him so that his hard cock is flush against you. it's a possessive movement and the roughest he's ever been with you, harshly jostling your body against his as if to have you close when you reach your peak.

you're leaning forward, fingers digging into the fine wood of his desk, as he repeatedly rubs at your clit, occasionally dipping to your entrance to collect your slick. you'd love for him to put them in you, to curl his thick fingers inside of your body until you cum, but this seems to be all he allows himself to do, as if he's holding himself back from ultimate pleasure.

what he does do for you is certainly enough, though. soon, he's crowding your body, his figure hunched over yours as you twitch and writhe against him. he keeps his fingers firmly rubbing at your clit, soft circles that grow more intentional with each twitch of your hips against him. then, you tense up and sigh deeply, then tension in your body fleeing as you cum hard against his hand and rut your hips into his fingers.

katsuki watches and groans softly as you finish, still moving his fingers and breathing heavily in your ear until you collapse forward against the desk with overstimulation. your legs tremble and squeeze his hand between your thighs and your breath comes heavily and quickly. he breathes like this too, as if he's just exerted some great physical force, and you can still feel his cock twitching against you in his pants as the fingers on his free hand dig harshly into your hips.

katsuki doesn't move his hand until you've stopped your twitching, content to leg you squeeze it between two plush thighs. then, he removes it, briefly holding your skirt up and peering around you to see the supple flesh of your leg, before letting it drop. you exhale a breath you hadn't realized you were holding and katsuki lingers behind you for a moment before letting his head fall forward to rest against your shoulder.

neither of you says anything about the reality of what you've just done. it's a great crime. one that is not easily undone should anyone find out about it. the two of you sit in silence as it settles over you.

[fineiguessimintowhump]

caretaker who is *factually* whumpee's superior. king and servant, general and soldier, noble and peasant... anything. the added fear, the difficulty of convincing whumpee of *anything*, caretaker pulling rank and losing weeks of progress... *sighs wistfully*

[tickled-p1nk]

What the Heart Wants ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

CHAPTER 1 | RESPONSIBILITY AND REFUGE

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: ̗̀➛ a/n: yes sir this is a multi-chapter fic, did it start out that way? nope. did it end that way? yes. : ̗̀➛ cw: none really, royal!dan heng x fem!servant!reader, reader is awkward and shy, meet cute, emperor!dan heng, royal!au, reader comes from a poor family, 2nd person pov, fluffy fluff to come, Dan Heng lies, secret identity trope, sfw : ̗̀➛ tags: @kimura-uzuri, @blushho

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Dan Heng had only come to the throne a short while ago and already had to deal with a war he hadn't started. There wasn't a moment of peace, being constantly bombarded with decisions that affected nations, the future, and living up to his father's legacy. None of this should have been his responsibility, especially since he hasn't even come to terms with his past and living up to his potential as Imbibator Lunae of his nation. But there was one thing… a refuge from all the chaos and pressure. A life without the expectations of status and leadership, somewhere he was safe, he could love and be loved.

You.

It started when you were working around the palace as a servant. Your family was poor, and you were sold to work at the imperial palace so they could pay off their debts. This was common practice for those in need, and it did have its benefits, a few at least.

Working at the palace, you never thought you would ever actually meet the emperor, the young leader of your warring nation. Though you did hear things, he was quite handsome and very skilled with the spear which was an odd choice for someone of his status. The women in the palace giggled about him but of course, none of you would ever have a chance with someone of his status. Or so you thought.

You ran into each other while you were cleaning the long hall. You were alone and quietly humming a song your mother used to sing to you. You missed your family If you were to be honest, you didn't know people here, though they were kind enough. They looked at you with sympathetic eyes, or envious ones, depending on where they came from. 

Suddenly, behind you, you heard footsteps, slowly came a young man. You eyed him cautiously, he seemed sleepy with heavy bags under his eyes, stress lines across his face despite his youthful appearance. He was fairly handsome if he were to fix his appearance a bit, short black hair and a lean but muscular build, you could tell due to his thin linen garb. He seemed like he was of high status due to the quality of his clothes, but nothing else signified status. You determined he was probably one of the more favored servants, though there was something about him that seemed eerily familiar.

He noticed your suspicious glances and became confused, does she not recognize me? He felt half offended and half amused. Well this is interesting.

Most people would have bowed their heads to him by now, it was the law, after all to bow in the presence of their emperor. He never really cared for it but it was strange to see someone not adhering to it.

“Can I help you with something?” You spoke, interrupting the staring contest.

“Oh no, sorry. Can I… help you…perhaps? Is there anything you require assistance with?” He wasn't used to making conversation where he was treated like an actual human being and not the answer to everyone's problems.

“Oh…hm…,” This handsome man was talking to you and asking if you needed anything, as someone who is starved for nurturing and love this was basically a marriage proposal, “could you help me reach the top of that shelf it's a bit too high for me to clean and I can't find a ladder.”

You expected him to go get a ladder or a stool if he knew where, not take the duster from your hand and do it himself.

“Oh! Uh….thank you.” You were a bit flustered, not only did you feel bad for having him dust the high shelves but when he was handing it back to you he was very close and very tall. You hoped he didn't notice how red your ears were getting at the moment “I didn't mean to make you do all that, my sincerest apologies.”

“Nonsense, I could reach it, and you needed help.” Dan Heng stated in a matter-of-fact tone, his teal eyes staring directly into your soul.

“What is your name, by the way? I didn’t seem to catch it,” you asked, despite the lump in your throat and the need to run away from this mysterious, handsome man.

He stared at you, stunned, I don’t want her to treat me differently, he paused before saying, “Dannie, and you?”

“Just Dannie?” you asked. It was strange to introduce yourself with what seemed like a first name.

“Yes.” He felt terrible for lying to an innocent person for no reason other than his selfish desires, but he wanted to indulge himself, just this once

“Hm, okay, Dannie, nice to meet you.”

You gave him your name, and you both stared at each other a bit, awkward silence taking over. You weren’t sure what to do or say after this point, not having much normal human interaction for the past year would do that.

Dan Heng, or “Dannie,” was the first to break the silence: “May I join you for the rest of your shift?”

You were surprised and perhaps slightly embarrassed but agreed nonetheless. It’s only to get to know the people I rule, of course, of course, yes, there was no other motivation whatsoever.

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: ̗̀➛ a/n pt 2: hello once more dear readers, and my darling dearest @all-skedaddle-and-no-bop

banner credit goes to: @kat_allioth on pinterest but idk who the actual artist is

stay tuned for the upcoming chapters!

masterlist next

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

M'lady, doth this harlot bother thee?

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[fumifooms]

Helki compilation

Helki is a prisoner-turned-servant. He’s a criminal canary and was implicitly one of Milsiril’s charges, and now that she’s retired he’s become her servant.

He must have gotten into Milsiril’s good graces, whether through attachment or convenience, which is a feat considering Milsiril’s a socially anxious recluse. Interesting since it’s not like he seems like the agreeable type, shifty upbeat delinquent style… We really don’t know much about him, not even what crimes he did, so there’s a lot of space for speculation on all grounds.

Edit: Shanghai QnA with Kui gave us a new juicy morsel of info!

Interesting… The original question in chinese is: 米尔西里尔是怎么接纳海尔奇待在自己身边的？毕竟她讨厌精灵，还被金丝雀队友欺负。 and the answer in japanese is: 海尔奇过去出过一些事，遭到了其他伙伴的抛弃，米尔西里尔对这样的人没法不伸出援手。That it’s written in japanese seems to say that there isn’t the same double translation issue there was last QnA, so if someone wants to look at the original phrasing and word choices it can be done. Perhaps Helki-Milsiril has a more protégé dynamic undertone than previously thought… "For various reasons", meaning that there were circumstances that made it so the squad had to choose between saving him and saving their own skin, or like, "man this guy’s personality sucks we don’t really like him"? Likely to be a mix of several things, since ‘for various reasons’ implies the situation had a lot of layers. Either way, the phrasing is very much that out of everyone Milsiril refused to abandon him, and so a relationship sprung out of that. Another instance of outcasts seeking out & sticking with other outcasts in Dungeon Meshi. This could mean that it’s a bit less out of personal attachment and more out of a sense of duty on Milsiril’s side as well, though.

Still edit: So then maybe him staying with Rin in that comic isn’t that much because of work ethics or that he cares for kids (or maybe he does because he feels kinship to them, alone and mistreated), but because he didn’t want to join the other canaries in that room chatting and laughing? Maybe the isolation was exacerbated because he became Milsiril’s favorite, teacher’s pet style, but I’d also be careful about assuming the others disproportionately dislike him, it could be that they just don’t really care for him. Why? Could be a lot of things, canary mentality, or because of his personality, because he’s seen as shifty or unreliable or annoying, if not an event, who knows who knows. But I like to think because of the Rin comic that he generally just tends to be a loner, that he’s "weird" in a neurodivergent vibe, he doesn’t conform to proper social behavior which in elven society seems especially alienating. He’s the only one to think of Rin's sake, not only sees her as worth observing/caring for but also asks her to eat— but he does this with an offputting stare, not really emoting, and then well, the infamous alone with her staring munching covered in blood panel. He stands out. I’m a fan of the theory that it was a "Helki? Not that I dislike the guy but I’m not risking my skin for him" situation… Ok end edit back to older observations.

He seemed to be acting out of his own initiative in the Rin comic, he doesn’t look thrilled to be there in many post-canary comics but he also seems content enough. He restrains Milsiril in the Mithrun cleaning comic which is interesting to think of for their relationship.

It’s fun to notice how he’s the only one that didn’t get bored of looking after Rin, and then reports back about her condition… I’d say he was getting used to taking care of kids which would come with the job of serving Milsiril, but then, not enough for him to clean the blood off himself hah. In this way it’s interesting to think about his relationship to the idea of parenthood, he’s probably the closest thing to a father figure/male role model Kabru had around him growing up, without mentioning the other kids as well. [Edit: the new modern AU art shows that he really did have a not unsignificant role in caring for the kids!] I feel like he’d consider himself an older brother, cousin or uncle figure sooo much sooner than a father, but even then I do think it’s just his job and he’s not really invested or forming real relationships with any of them much.

It’s curious to note that he’s dressed in canary uniform presumably after having been pardoned and living with Milsiril? Which you can tell by the armor bits (the yellow strips of spider silk). Specifically, in the Kabru training montage and the Rin comic. It seems very implausible for him to have still been a canary while being retired Milsiril’s servant and being with her all the time, and the cleaning with Mithrun comic (where he’s not in uniform) happens after Utaya, so it could happen after Kabru was taken in but around the time of the Rin comic. It is said that Helki was pardoned and Milsiril retired after their work in Utaya specifically, in the anime we also see a brief shot of canaries silhouettes at Utaya including Milsiril's, so combined with the Mithrun comic after Utaya and Mithrun's recovery efforts we have a pretty tight timeline of when they retired, year 499 when Utaya was destroyed to 500 when Mithrun became captain. (We know Mithrun started recovery efforts in year 480, but it's also hearing about Utaya that made Mithrun double his efforts, knowing the demon had struck again, so it's the next milestone we can use as reference point.) So why uniform? It could be one of the best outfits he has, so it’d make sense to wear it around especially if you’re sparring or getting… Blood on you? Could just be because that's how Milsiril wants him to dress. But yeah we don't know when exactly Helki becoming Milsiril’s servant happened. We do see Mithrun’s charge, Cithis, be tasked with taking care of him, so a charge being given a servant-caretaker role doesn’t seem all that out of the ordinary, sometimes even prior to retiring.

Imo, if he doesn't work for Milsiril he goes back to jail/the canaries/has to try and get a job instead of just tending to her, so Helki is staying with Milsiril because she's the best option for him. He’s Milsiril's personal servant and does mostly dull tasks of whatever she requires, cleaning, being a training mannequin, looking after kids. He’s not particularly suited to the role but they’ve gotten used to each other, she got used to him, so she took him with her, and he does prefer it to canary work so it works out decent for him. I think he’s used to reading her and managing her moods, he's evidently comfortable enough with her (and allowed) to physically restrain her when her emotions get the better of her, and he’s one of the rare social connection she has. Edit: The Shangai Q&A seems to point towards a deeper history and connection between the two. With Milsiril having implicitly saved Helki, it's likely he feels like he has to repay her, whether he's happy with that or not. But again, he seems content enough imo.

Under spoiler is stage 2 interpretation stuff, bigger speculation, in a reblog I’ll make soon I’ll go over my thoughts for stage 3 interpretation lol. Helsiril I’m coming for you

Translation of the canary hierachy chart used is by Thatsmimi, here.

[merakiui]

an introduction to my sweet monster!jade, but in meme format:

[sinvulkt-art]

Loyalty

Last gift for @silvereddaye as part of the Vaderkin Creative Exchange 2025 organised by @vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod

Because we never have enough Vader kneeling in front of Padmé content. The background was inspired by a picture of the throne room of Naboo modelised by Joe Den. (Now, someone tell me what Palpatine’s empire symbol is doing on the floor of the naboo palace?!)

[spotaus]

NewAge Idea I'm throwing into the void so I'll remember it lol.

Killer + Chara reunion (doesn't end well)!

Because after Chara leaves Killer alone early/pre-story they just kinda... disappears? I know they obv abandon Killer after he doesn't come back to them, they run off... but I don't think they have the guts to cross the border of Orchard. To escape. (The threat of the Whistlers finding them escaped still feels fresh.)

Not 100% what I want them to have been doing in the meantime?? They were initially a petty thief so I *could* see them continuing down that path. Either professional thief living on the edge, or stealing from the wrong person and getting pulled into debts with the black market. They did really enjoy pushing Killer around as a "pawn" so they'd make a good small ring leader. Or perhaps they find another line of mundane profession.

Regardless, the reunion would happen After Killer's major injury from Night's kidnapping and he's back out doing normal missions (though reduced slightly, because Night and Ccino are still cautious) and him and one of the others are just doing a hunt-down of some major criminal or answering a distress call. And it's completely unrelated that Killer and Chara are in the same place.

Part of me thinks (the bigger part) that Chara is the one to approach Killer. (Holding resentment for his "betrayal", holding moral high-ground over him for not serving the new God-King, Always thinking of him as lesser, even as he's riding a beautiful steed and obviously healthy and happy doing his job.) After his job has concluded, or even during it, they waltz up and call him by first name. And citizens tend to approach them to thank them, but no one says their names. Killer is confused, turns, and stares blankly at this human for a few seconds.

He... doesn't know this person? He doesn't recognize them, until they frown at him, and begin to say sonething like, 'Too good to talk to me now, partner?' And it clicks for him that. Oh. *Oh*. Chara. Their hair is a lot longer, they let it grow out, their red eyes are hidden by too-long messy bangs. They're a lot taller than they used to be, wear newer, better clothes. But that way their mouth twists and their eyes widen when they're upset is the exact same. And frankly, he doesn't know how to react.

Killer? Killer had been so completely loved and cherished and trusted by his new family? He had so completely built himself from the ground up since leaving Chara? The Killer they knew doesn't exist anymore. Chara hasn't occurred to him to even *think* to factor into this new life of his.

The old hurt burns for a moment. Seeing them here. Now. But... it putters out as he goes to talk. Saying their name alone. With a smile, and crescent eyes. It feels like the name of a stranger on his tongue as he stares at them.

However? Whatever other knight is with him? They *know* that name. From nights when they would get wasted in the kitchen and Killer, once or twice, would break into angry, regretful, tearful stories about this human. Chara. Someone from, not just his past, but from his childhood. Before he met Nightmare, before he met any of them. And they know that Killer used to be torn up about them. This human. It *has* been years since he's done it, bring them up, but still. (Cross has at least heard a bit of the ranting, though not as dramatically as Dust + Horror heard.)

It would depend on who was there how they'd react, of course.

Cross, curious and cautious, but fiercely protective of his family? Circles right around on his horse to also stare down Chara. Asks Killer who they are (though he kinda already knows). He gives the directive over to Killer to decide what reaction he wants from Cross. He lets Killer give him the signal to either stand down or raise his guard and prepare to back him. He's heard bits and pieces of the story, so if he gets the signal, he'll go for the throat if needed.

Horror misses the name, but he knows Killer's body language and he knows Killer rarely stops for conversations when he's riding Granite (double check this name later?). He usually dismounts because it makes him seem more personable and he likes the close-proximity (makes him feel confident). So Killer staying on horseback shows him that sonething's different. He rounds Basalt in a large arc that goes unnoticed by Chara so he's behind them by a distance. In Killer's line of sight. Killer won't interfere unless he sees Killer in distress, but a few seconds in he realizes this is that human kid Killer was so torn up about. Who made him feel like shit. He has a feeling Killer won't forgive and forget.

Dust... well, Dust is his closest friend, his closest brother, Dust knows Killer like the back of his hand. When he hears Chara speak and call Killer 'partner' he knows exactly who they are. Him and Opal are beside Killer and Granite in half a second. He doesn't say anything, unlike Cross, but he watches. He is stock-still and stares at Chara like they're a bug. His storm is brewing, swirling, tye lightning *begging* to fry this human into the ground. The only thing holding him back is that Killer hasn't made any moves. He knows how important it is for Killer to confront this loser human on his own terms, he trusts Killer is better and has grown so far past this little worm, *but* if he sees any sign of Killer's discomfort? Dust will fry first ask questions later and drag their half-dead body back to the castle and lock them in the dungeon himself.

And I think that no matter who is there, having one of his brothers beside him makes him even more assured that he's grown. He's grown beyond the Killer who followed Chara's every word and always came running back. He's beyond Chara.

Best case, he listens to them attempt to berate him. Scorn him for leaving them to fend for themselves and bending to the first person who made him kneel to them. Cursing him for giving up his life of freedom to serve the same family who wanted him to kill. Them to be killed. And look at what he ended up doing, Killing just as they wanted him to back at [the temple, which I will finally name]. He just listens until they run out of breath, and they take deep frustrated gasps still just like they did when they were kids, and then he grins. It is a tight grin, not the one seen by his friends, the one his enemies see as he's about to gut them personally. Because everything they berated him for? He's been over it. A billion times in his head, worrying and worrying that it was just another situation where he was being manipulated. But his family, when he expressed worry? They helped him. Proved through word and action that he wasn't just a pawn or killing machine. They made him stop worrying over that years ago. And hearing it from Chara, his past manipulator? Yeah, it proves yet again that it was nothing but fear. Ridiculous.

My tired brain says he grins at them for a bit, before laughing and saying it was bold of them to speak their mind like that straight in front of two Knights of the King Nightmare. Just because they used to be friends, it doesn't mean they get a free pass.

That reaction, no fear and an easygoing attitude? Passes Chara off even more. They'd fearlessly try and recount the old days.

Whichhhh would reveal some really shady crimes. And statute of limitation doesn't exist yet lmao. Killer would have every right to lean down and cuff/arrest Chara. They'd try and point out he did those crimes with them, and Killer would just be like 'One of us got a pardon and the other hasn't. :)' And then assure them he'll have the King personally meet them to discuss their crimes.

Okay I'm stopping that line of thought there.

But upon Night hearing Chara is down in his dungeon? He doesn't keep many criminals at all anymore, it's actually mostly still just Dream, Ink, and Blue atm. He wants to see Chara for himself. See who hurt Killer so badly in the past and to hear what motives them to do so. He knows a little from Killer. That they came from Whistling, that Nim was to have them sacrificed (*in her honor, she wasn't directly aware of every temple), and that they used him as a tool rather than a friend. Killer came to him lost and unsure of himself.

*plus* it seems Killer really has healed in his time separated from Chara. Enough-so that he doesn't even want to bother with Chara's fate. They didn't care for him, and they were never friends. Just two kids trying to survive in a kingdom which wanted them dead. They both did stupid shit and they've both grown up since they last spoke. He wants to treat it as any other case.

So Night (joined by Horror because Humans are usually physical combatants if anything goes wrong) does his usual shpeal about asking his questions and letting the prisoner ask their own or talk and rant. They go over it for a long time. Chara feels empowered by Nightmare's small stature, and so they spill more of their true nature. Nightmare? Nightmare decides to banish them from Orchard. If they're spotted within borders they were to be executed on the spot. Just like spies and other criminals who have yet to directly harm anyone.

....The fact that he has no doubt they'll return anyways and fall into the hands of a city guard who will handle them like the petty criminal they are? Well, that has nothing to do with the ruling.

[stormyoceans]

im actually soooooo here for dech being the one pathetically in love chasing after mek first

[denerturee]

My favorite genre of dynamics:

The boss and the servant

[secriden]

excuse me i just stumbled on this photoshoot (?) on Twitter and

wtf why does peat have that rich 太太 (tai tai) energy?? (ie. a wealthy, spoiled, pampered trophy housewife)

why does fort look like his assigned bodyguard who is officially just there to make sure no one gets to his boss through his 'wife' but he's also totally fucking his boss' wife on the down low

they totally plot to murder peat's rich husband and have him inherit his fortune and afterwards fort stays as his kept man bodyguard and peat rules his financial empire with an iron fist.

why do i need a fic about this like i need to breathe.

Edit: so i wrote a thing (its mahasamut/tongrak and its way more intense then i even anticipated)

[distinctlywhumpthing]

In League – Hold Him Still

Masterlist

Follows this piece. August has a fever and needs to be held down while the doctor cleans his wound. Painful but necessary caretaking. No one handles it well. @alittlewhump beta read.

Theo stopped at the top of the stairs, favouring the left side of the step to avoid the creak. Shadows of the banister spanned the hallway like Roman columns. Stretching onto the ceiling as though they’d been cast by flame, soot left in their wake. It lent an air of grandeur, as though he might find champions or gladiators reclined after a battle instead of a gaggle of misfits, sloshed and lucky if they made it onto a bed. Door open, closed, or ajar served little indication of the state of what lay beyond. 

There wasn’t a room in the house Theo hadn’t stayed in for some length of time over the five years since they’d had it. He was always the one to trade if there were tensions between roommates, happy to give up a room to himself if someone sick or injured needed it, and was usually the first to share with a new addition to help them settle in. Normally, that would have meant August taking the spare bed in the room at the end of the hall with him but nothing about August’s arrival had been normal. 

He started at the room next to his. Hugh would already be awake. The youngest in their ranks was the lightest sleeper and the only one who never drank as a hard and fast rule. 

“Can you come down?” He whispered, glancing over at Jack to make sure he hadn't disturbed him. Unlikely, given the fact that he smelled like a distillery. 

Hugh nodded, brow furrowing but he didn't pause to ask questions.

Finding a second recruit wasn’t as straightforward. Those on the clock would be sober but with posts all over this side of the city, it would take too long to get word to one of them. 

Theo jumped when Hugh appeared at his side, dressed and ready. And looking all too proud at his ability to sneak up on others. 

“Were you at the pub earlier?” Theo asked, keeping his voice low. “Do you know who else—”

“What going on?” Alfred came out of his room, looking irate at being disturbed even though he was fully awake. “His pacing sounds like a drum line. Did the little spy run off with all the notes from the safe?”

“We need another pair of hands to help with something downstairs.” 

“I’ll do it.” 

“We need someone sober.”

“Haven’t had a drop,” Alfred said, crossing his fingers over his heart in mock seriousness. “One of us real grown-ups—no offense, Hughey—” 

Hugh shrugged, more occupied with what exactly he’d been volunteered for. 

“—Had to stay clear-headed with Wyatt gone off the rails.” 

“Don’t I count?” 

“Thought you’d be catching up on sleep after the docks.” 

“Oh…thanks.” Theo couldn’t help but be impressed, though the reason for it was less than ideal.  

“Yeah, I’m likely to be sainted any day now. So, what are we doing?” 

Downstairs, August lay on the dining table, still dead to the world in his fevered state. Doc was setting out all manner of instruments beside him, bright and sharp. Wyatt’s fists tightened with each addition, his percussive footsteps echoing through the room. 

What with the mantle of responsibility he shouldered, Wyatt was never far when someone in the house was hurt. Be it on a job or a foolish mishap, he took pains to stick around for them to get stitched up. A hand on their shoulder, a flask ready at their side. Grim-faced and tense as though he truly shared in their pain. But every time the dining room was transformed into an operating theatre, one would think he’d never seen blood. 

Alfred crossed his arms in the doorway. “You’re not fucking serious. This is what you pulled us out of bed for?”

Wyatt stilled with his back turned. 

“Take it easy,” Theo warned. To one or both, he wasn’t certain. 

Hugh grimaced from behind Alfred, eyes darting to Theo’s.

“Unless this is to pick up where we left off—”

“Where you left off?” Wyatt grated. “If you hadn’t been so heavy-handed, he might not be this bad off.”

“I still think he got off easy.”

“Excuse me?”

As the battle lines were drawn, Hugh ducked through the doorway, seeking neutral ground beside Theo. Or, rather, just slightly behind him.

“We could have gotten a lot more out of him.” 

Wyatt whirled. “Of course it didn’t occur to you to simply ask. That all of the scars—”  He gestured to the boy in question, prone on the table, looking for all the world to be on his deathbed for how frail he was. “Not to mention the fresh wound bigger than his own hand on his side—might be an indication that he would more than happily flip on Keats.”

“I—well—”

Too slow. “Your impulsivity once again leads to unfavourable consequences. This is becoming a pattern.” 

Alfred was still floundering. This was usually the moment— 

“And you?” Alfred countered. “This isn’t the first time you’ve shown yourself more loyal to some stranger.”

—things got worse. 

Theo held up his hands. “All right, Doc’s—”

“Loyalties?” Wyatt took a step forward, rising to the bait and bringing his voice along with him. “You’re speaking to me of loyalties?” 

Alfred held his ground, matching the volume. “You can’t expect us to blindly follow your lead when you’ve been locked in your room with some stray and we don’t know what the fuck’s going on.” 

“I have done more than enough to earn your trust.”

“And not a damn thing to keep it.”

“Unbelievable. Do you refuse to see the consequences of your actions before you? In what way would this fill me with confidence? All this has shown me is that you lack any sense of discernment.”

“Fuck off,” Alfred yelled. “I was doing what any of us would have done. You’re the one hiding something! Ever since the warehouse, you’ve been different. Are you working for Keats? Is that why you came down to ‘rescue’ his man?” 

Wyatt lunged, shoving Alfred against the wall. “Accuse me of treachery one more time.” 

Alfred swallowed, suddenly more selective of his words though he didn’t concede to the threat of Wyatt’s hands so near his throat by raising his own in defence. “You ask us to trust you but you don’t extend that same trust to us,” he spat.   

Theo took a step forward. “Why don’t we—”

“Fuck off your high horse,” Alfred said at the same time Wyatt growled, “Stay out of this.” 

Theo held up his hands, retreating. Hugh grimaced, looking ready to cut and run. This was absolutely going to make matters worse but fine, let them beat the shit out of each other, see if he cared. 

Alfred fists tightened at his sides. “I think—”

“As entertaining as this is,” Doc interrupted, pausing to look at them flatly, demonstrating just how unamused he found it. “Time is of the essence. Can we begin or will we need to find another set of hands?” 

“There is no one else,” Alfred said, still glaring at Wyatt. “The boys were doing forfeits tonight.” 

Wyatt held his ground one beat longer than necessary before releasing him wordlessly and turning his back to check on August. 

Alfred fumed. 

So that’s how it was going to be. 

“Alright, let’s each of you take hold of him,” Doc instructed. Alfred, the strongest holding his hips. Hugh held his ankles. Wyatt and Theo on either shoulder and wrist. 

“Are… are you s-sure this is necessary?” Hugh asked. “He’s o-out c-cold.” 

In truth, it felt ridiculous, taking such positions around the ghost of a boy on the table, but August came to immediately, “No, no, no!” He twisted easily out of Theo’s underestimated grip. 

“Shit!” Theo narrowly avoided getting bitten trying to catch the boy’s shoulder again. 

Hugh and Alfred scrambled to regain a hold as he fought. August would have fallen off the table completely if Wyatt hadn’t caught him by the waist, keeping him still long enough for Alfred to pin his hips again. 

“Steady lads.” Doc had his trousers almost to his knees which had the benefit of restricting his movements some, though he fought all the more for what ground he lost. 

“Please!” He kicked Hugh squarely in the chest when his ankle was released for the underbreeches to be taken all the way off, sending him staggering backwards. 

But as soon as Doc finally pulled away the fabric, he fell still, eerily so. If his breath wasn’t so audibly fast and ragged, Theo would have wanted to check it was there at all. 

One by one, they released him, watching his expression closely but his eyes remained closed, limbs as limp as before they’d started. Doc covered him with a sheet, folding one side to the middle to reveal the wound. 

Alfred hissed in a breath. “That ain’t pretty.”

Theo made sure not to look. 

Wyatt was as white as the aforementioned sheet, which did not bode well. He turned away, putting one hand against the wall and covering his brow. 

“All right, Hughey?” Theo asked. 

He nodded, expression tight. His gaze was stuck on August’s sleeping face, like he was trying to figure out how someone who looked near death could put up such a fight. 

Doc pushed his rolled sleeves up and ran his thumbs under his braces. He met Theo’s gaze and then glanced at Wyatt, eyebrows lifting. “Let’s give him a minute to rest while I step out for a smoke, then we start.” 

Alfred and Hugh all but jumped to follow him. Hugh didn’t even smoke but Theo understood his desire to escape this room. He was itching for a cigarette himself but Wyatt needed him more.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as restful a moment as prescribed. 

Every few breaths, August would whimper, tossing his head back and forth. “No more. Please, master. Please, no more.”

And each time, Wyatt would soothe, “Hush, lamb,” and place the boy’s limp hands on the bedsheets that covered him. “Nothing like that’s going to happen.” 

No sooner than August recognised himself to be swathed in the sheets, would he fall out of consciousness again. Only to come round once more, moments later and repeat the whole process. 

“August, lad, just rest.” Wyatt swept the hair off August’s forehead and the boy’s face crumpled, a sob escaping his lips. 

“Please, master,” he whimpered.

Wyatt stopped stroking his temple but the younger boy only sobbed anew at the departure, turning his head to chase the touch. 

“For Christ’s sake,” Wyatt breathed, hand hesitating in the space between them. He curled his fingers into a fist but not before Theo saw them tremble. Wyatt’s red-rimmed eyes flicked up to his and then to the door. He sat up straighter, burying his hands in his pockets.

“He’ll not remember,” Theo said, rounding the table and keeping his voice low enough that the others coming down the hall wouldn’t hear. “You’re doing right by him.” 

Silent tears started to fall steadily down August’s cheeks, his brow still creased in distress.

Theo wondered if Wyatt was going to make it through this. He would have suggested he step out for some air they were out of time. 

Doc instructed them back to their positions. “Let’s get this over with, lads.” 

“Pleasepleaseplease—no-no—” August’s eyes flew open as soon as they laid hands on him again but this time they were more prepared. 

The display of force against someone so vulnerable left a bitterness in Theo’s already-sour stomach. His fingers well overlapped the younger boy’s delicate wrist. 

“It’s imperative he remain still,” Doc reminded, raising his voice over August’s protests. “I don’t want to cause any more damage than has already been done.” 

“This gonna hurt?” Alfred asked, looking to Wyatt. 

But Wyatt only had eyes for August. 

He was sobbing, pleading only growing more pitiful. “No more, master. Please, I beg of you, I can’t—no more—” 

“Ready?” Doc asked. 

As ready as they’d ever be, which was to say not in the least. This was considerably worse than any of the times they’d held down a fellow comrade, drunk to his gills, so Doc could dig out a bullet. 

August howled when Doc’s blade met his wound. He thrashed against their hands with renewed vigour, twisting and pulling, desperate to find a point of escape. There was no question he’d have bruises for how hard he fought but Theo began to fear he’d wind up with worse, feeling the bones of his wrist twisting and grinding in his grip. 

“Fuck fuck fuck—” 

“W-why… why hasn’t he p-passed out yet?” Hugh asked, raising his voice to be heard. 

“He’s fighting it,” Doc said without looking up. 

Alfred snorted. “We’re shit out of luck if it’s as hard as he’s fighting us.” 

“Godfuckingdamnit—”

Doc paused to clean the blade and August stilled, breath ragged. He looked into their faces, one by one, as though he were looking for one he recognised. Wyatt took pains to angle his face away, gaze locked on his fingertips, white where he gripped August’s shoulder to keep him immobilised. 

August’s eyes were still glassy when they locked onto Alfred’s. “Please, please,” he begged breathlessly. “I’ll tell you anything. Just make it stop—” He screamed when Doc started again, head falling back onto the table with a thud, arching his spine and trying to twist away. “Nnngh—Make it stop!” 

“Interesting,” Alfred said, again looking to see what rise he could get out of Wyatt. “What have you got?” 

“I’ll not have you turning a medical procedure into an interrogation,” Doc said flatly. 

Alfred wouldn’t drop it. “If he’s willing to share…” 

“Please, anything you want—” August lifted his head again, gaze settling on Theo this time. “I’ll do anything!” 

“I’m sorry,” Theo told him, beginning to feel as though they’d had a hand in the original injury, torturing him so. It was grotesque. 

“I’ll make it good—Ah! Fuckk—nnnnghh—I can show you such a good time—” 

Hugh made a choked sound in his throat, drawing August’s attention.

“Don’t let them do this—” Tears started running down his face, voice straining as he held back sobs. Hugh looked to Wyatt but he wouldn’t look up. “Please, please, I can’t do this again. I can’t—” August’s words grew incoherent, mangled by cries that sounded as though they might tear his very lungs. He pinched his eyes shut, shaking his head back and forth, fingers clawing at the air with every pass of the blade.

Theo hoped he was reaching his limit, that he might finally lose consciousness, and be saved some suffering. He must ask Wyatt about the chloroform later. 

“The infection is deeper than I thought.” Doc paused again, raising his voice to be heard over August’s sobbing. “It’ll be a bit longer.”

“Please, please, sir.” He’d found Wyatt this time. Had to lift his head and crane it back, bearing his whole throat, to catch his gaze. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, rushing to speak before Doc started again. “Please. I’m yours, sir. I don’t need it. I know I’m yours, sir. I’ll never run! I promise, sir. I swear. Please—”

August slammed his head against the table when the blade found him again, his expression twisting in pain. When he opened his eyes again, they were even less focused, tears running steadily down his temples but he still looked in Wyatt’s direction. 

Wyatt stared right past him, refusing to engage. 

“You promised,” August cried hoarsely. “You can’t even look at me. You lied. You’re just like him.” Alfred had the gall to force a laugh but even that didn’t get a reaction from Wyatt. August sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut as though he couldn’t bear to look at Wyatt anymore either. 

Theo hoped he might slip into unconsciousness now but he lifted his head, cracking it down on the table.

Wyatt closed his eyes. 

August hit his head against the table again.

And again. And again. 

“You’ll need to put a stop to that,” Doc said without looking up. 

“Stop him how?” Theo asked. “If we let go—”

“Now!”

As soon as Theo let go of his shoulder, August twisted against the hold on his wrist, lifting more of his right side off the table and using the momentum to slam his head even harder against the table. For a moment he was still, seeing stars. 

“Jesus Christ, Theo. That’s definitely worse,” Alfred said. 

“Oh, piss off,” Theo snapped, pinning August’s shoulder again while he was still dazed but it was only seconds before August was beating his head against the table again. “Doc, maybe if you give him a break—”

“I’m nearly finished. Just manage it.” 

“Wyatt, can you give me a hand?” Theo released August’s wrist instead, clapping his free hand over the boy’s forehead but as soon as he did, August reached up to claw his neck and face. 

“Ow! Fuck!” The feral thing managed to draw blood and catch him in the eye. He grabbed August’s wrist again but of course the lad slammed his head into the table again as soon as Theo had let go.

Hugh started shaking his head, eyes flicking between August and Wyatt. 

“Wyatt,” Theo shouted. “Fucking do something! Anything!” 

He was a statue at August’s side. 

“Shit. I think he’s made himself bleed.” Theo leaned over and sure enough, there were splotches on the sheet. “Doc—” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Alfred groaned. “I’ll pin him so you can stop him caving his head in. Hold on—” He hooked his foot around one of the chairs and pulled it up to the table.  

And Theo had thought this couldn’t possibly get worse for August. “You can’t be serious—Hugh, you gotta hang on. We need you with us.” 

Hugh pinched his eyes shut, giving up on any reassurance from Wyatt, his shoulders up to his ears like he wanted to block out the sounds too. 

“Wyatt,” Theo tried one more time. “Please, we need you. Help us.” 

Alfred already had one knee on the table but before he could straddle August’s thighs, Wyatt caught the back of August’s neck. He took hold of the boy’s hand, bringing his arm up across his chest and using it to keep him down. 

“August, look at me. I—” Wyatt cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts but we have no choice.” 

“I—I don’t—I don’t believe you,” he managed to gasp, breath thin and quick now that he’d doubled his pain. 

“I know.” His voice was as hollow as his gaze but August was in no position to notice. 

The lad let his eyes fall closed, tears still streaming down his face. Wyatt held him fast and little more than a few whimpers escaped his lips as Doc finished. 

“The worst part is over,” Doc finally said. “I’ll just—”

Wyatt let go of August and walked out. 

“I—sir—” His eyes swam as he tried to look for Wyatt. 

“Unfuckingbelievable,” Alfred grumbled. 

Hugh looked even more cross than Alfred. 

“Just…hang on—” Theo gingerly released August and, once certain he was staying still, hurried after Wyatt. 

It had just begun snowing outside. A dusting of white covered the messy streets, blurring all of the roughness of the city and leaving a clean slate to glow under the street lights. 

“Wyatt!” Theo called to stop him before he disappeared into the flurry. 

He paused but didn’t turn. 

“You can’t leave, not now. Not after that.” 

Nothing. 

Theo curled his fingers into fists. “Are you so blinded by whatever hold August has on you that you can't see what's going on?” He was yelling but still Wyatt wouldn’t turn. “We’ll be lucky if we see Hugh inside a fortnight and Alfred’s ready to—”

“Go back.” Not a request, a command. 

Theo’s blood boiled. 

Wyatt pulled his collar up and started walking but paused again. “For me,” he added, half turning toward Theo for a moment. 

“This isn’t how we do things,” Theo called back but he was just shouting into the wind. 

Masterlist

@whumpy-writings @deluxewhump @no-whump-on-main @maracujatangerine @painsandconfusion

@wolfeyedwitch @briars7 @gala1981 @redwingedwhump @whumpflash

@poeticagony-blog @annablogsposts @fleur-alise @melancholy-in-the-morning @crystalquartzwhump

@magziemakeswhatever @neverthelass @cakeinthevoid @inkstainsonmyhands12 @hold-him-down was already taken lol