#eret x you

[nerdysleepybunny]

If someone doesn’t write a fic where reader is absolutely WORSHIPPING Eret and is just a total simp for her then I’ll do it MYSELF. 😡

LOOK AT THIS QUEEN. THEY DESERVE TO BE WORSHIPPED AND DROWNED IN AFFECTION AKDJANDNANDMSNNDCJ

Eret is so perfect and ethereal I physically and mentally cannot. 😔💗

[itsonlydana]

ok , now mcyts drunk confessing to you, dsmp characters edition

DSMP CHARACTERS CONFESSING DRUNK

pairing: c!Foolish x gn!reader / c!Wilbur x gn!reader /c!Eret x gn!reader / c!Schlatt x gn!reader

words: 6k

warnings: alcohol & being drunk, hurt/comfort, fluff

an: this took a while for me to write, whenever i started it i got distracted. You guys don't know how often i was this close to confessing everything to some of my crushes lmao. Don't do that, just because it's maybe romantic here :,)

important links: rules + masterlist

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

FOOLISH:

Foolish and you had met through Quackity in Las Nevadas, an initially awkward first encounter in which you were both late for different reasons and ran into each other entering the hotel

as you quickly found out you both had an affinity for building, a love for architectural masterpieces and a tendency to make every building project a friendly (completely serious, depending on the result and victory your whole personality for the following week) but definitely only friendly competition

besides the competitions, raving about building styles and materials you often entertained yourselves by swimming in the sea, because you both wanted to avoid contact with hotel visitors during a trip to the pool and thus often found yourselves on the beach after a long day/night at work

Foolish's way of showing his affection were not only expensive gifts in the form of a new, faster pickaxe or a chest filled with marble blocks and other materials, all a pain in the butt to get, but also touches

when you first met he was reluctant to do this, unsure of how to place you as a new person in the social construct of Las Nevadas, but as you spent more time together these touches became more frequent

him putting his arm around your shoulders as you sat on the beach watching the sunrise/sunset after swimming, resting his head on yours when you were bent over blueprints, holding your hand as you climbed the scaffolding. Often you feel his hand light as a feather in your back when he's guiding you somewhere or you're walking through a door together (he always lets you lead the way) and it becomes especially frequent when he's completely overtired and overworked

most of the time he drops down on top of you, of course not wanting to bury you completely under his muscles, but then as soon as he is lying on top of you, one arm wrapped around you and his nose buried in the crook of your neck, he falls right asleep.

Sometimes he reaches for your hands for no real reason and he never explains himself either. He intertwines your hands and gets on with whatever he's working on at the time

The ice clinked against the rim of your glass as you twirled the crystal straw around in the cocktail. It wasn't on the menu yet, "a secret just for you," as Foolish had explained to you with a wink after you'd dropped tiredly onto one of the now-empty barstools in Las Nevada's club with a desire for something strong. Foolish, whose wink had glistened just like the deep red drink in front of you, stood behind the bar, a glass of his own in his hand, leaning wearily against the countertop. He had his eyes closed, exhaustion after a long night of filling the thirsty mouths of countless tourists and probably turning down hundreds of chat up lines on his face.

He looked good enough to eat, though, you thought to yourself, and let your eyes slide over his relaxed figure, shamelessly and bold now that he rested his. The tight black pants flattered his well-toned legs, especially thighs very much and also the vest, which he had taken off after the last customer and thrown over the bar, had stretched over his chest. The self-confident Foolish, easily showing off his good looks and fishing for tips, was through the door, in front of you was a picture that only you got to see. 

His white shirt which he wore under his vest had slipped at the hem in some places out of its tidily smooth form tucked into his trousers and hung over the shiny gold belt loop, he had rolled up his sleeves carelessly, well as far as the fabric would allow with his strong upper arms, and two of the many small buttons were unbuttoned so that you could see the calming rise and fall of his chest. His long hair, otherwise tied in a braid, was now messily twisted behind his head, presenting his tense jaw and sharp cheekbones in the dim light of the bar.

You tilted your head, propped on your left hand, and took another sip of the cocktail. You knew the warm feeling in your stomach wasn't just from the alcohol, you felt it too often for that when you were sober. 

The jukebox in the corner crackled softly as the record was changed and a new one was automatically put on, this time a much slower one. The first notes echoed through the empty bar, filling the comfortable silence between you and Foolish with a tune familiar to both of you, at which Foolish opened his eyes. 

Your gaze was still on him when his met his, and for a moment you just looked at each other before Foolish's voice quietly drowned out the melody and the loud thumping in your chest:

"Would you like to dance?"

Normally you would have teased him for such a question or made a joke about your lack of dancing skills, but something was different today. You couldn't put your finger on what it was. Maybe it was the warmth in the rosy red sunrise that bathed Las Nevadas pink and fell through the glass doors into the bar. Maybe it was that something in Foolish's gaze as he walked around the bar and you accepted his outstretched hand with a smile. Or maybe it was the weariness of a long night, doused with many drinks, the taste of which made your lips taste sweet and your stomach do cartwheels. 

Foolish led you to the center of the room, into the warm cone of one of the last remaining switched-on spotlights that bathed you both in its golden light. Any eye ogling was forgotten as soon as Foolish put his hands at your sides. Never looking away from his loving gaze you raised your hands and placed them in his neck, at the touch of your hands cooled by the glass and ice you felt the goosebumps on his skin under your fingertips, but your tongue was numb and another teasing comment remained unspoken.

It wasn't really dancing, just a slow swaying back and forth so lost in each other's gaze that you didn't even hear the record stop and none follow. 

As your fingers unconsciously began to trace indefinable patterns, circles and gentle movements on the back of Foolish's neck he exhaled a quivering breath that shook his chest. You felt from his tight grip, not tight enough to hurt you, how hard he was straining to stand up straight, his head probably heavy with fatigue, alcohol, and the many thoughts that had just made themselves known at the bar in a furrowed brow and contracted eyebrows. 

You repeated the movement in his neck, wandering your fingers higher to the base of his hair where it was slightly twisted for his braid. Without giving it much further thought, you released the clasp that had pinned the black hair far too tightly. As you began to carefully comb through the thick and velvety hair, his arms pulled you closer to him until no sheet of paper would have fit between you.

Foolish's head tipped forward slightly as he let himself fall completely against you. With a tired sigh and a yawn, he leaned his head against yours before sinking forward even further and resting his forehead on your shoulder. His breath hit the free skin on your neck hotly. You felt the words even before they reached your ears, the movement of his lips against your neck almost more distinct than the actual words.

"I love you."

A tremor ran through your body as his arms slipped from your sides and wrapped completely around you, pressing your clearly smaller body against his broad chest as he clarified the meaning of that great confession with every touch. 

And you loved him too with all your heart and every thought, but you would tell him that tomorrow. Now you were showing him by holding him.

ERET:

even before Eret was officially crowned king of the SMP by Dream, you had made it your mission to always be at his side

not only because of his good looks, but also because you had often enough talked about a shared vision of freedom, your hearts far away in the distance while lying in front of black and yellow walls and imagining what it would be like to be somewhere else

one night he had taken your hand, pulled you with him on the caravan and pointed to a spot in the darkness, between tall fir trees swaying in the night wind and promised you to run there as soon as the walls were gone

that night you probably felt it for the first time, the leap in your heart and the tingling in your stomach, but these feelings had no place in the revolution and you repressed them - later

life went on, time took what it wanted and fate played with events as if they were a part of a play and not reality, where every action had serious consequences. Eret won something, Eret lost something and you stayed by his side no matter what happened and the tug in your heart became sometimes stronger, sometimes less - later

he declared you his most loyal knight on a lukewarm summer night, a grin on your faces as he struck Ted's wrath on your shoulders and gave you a sword in netherite, which you never took off since then

you were inseparable, finding comfort in each other's presence even when his touches set your skin on fire and the reality of your platonic relationship dipped your head in icy water

sometimes the lines between friendship and work blurred, ending up in unattractive expressions shouted in the heat of the argument, which you regretted afterwards in the lonely silence

to always remind you of your position, not as desired as a lover, but as the most faithful friend and protector, you always carry a photograph, clamped in the breastplate of your armor, on which you kneel before Eret, one hand placed on your heart, the other on his black shoe tips, and on which he, in his voluminous red coat and golden crown, places Ted wrath on your right shoulder

To say you were running through the castle would be an understatement, you were sprinting, your feet barely seemed to touch the ground and only one question was burning in your mind:

"What if I'm not fast enough?"

When one of the maids had stormily knocked, no hammered, on your bedroom door in the early morning, you had immediately been on your feet, the book in which you had lost yourself had been left open on your bed, neatly made for the sleep you didnt get in the night.

That's all she had to say, that's all you needed to hear. You flew like a whirlwind around the last corner where several servants stood with nervous looks in front of the high, closed doors to the throne room and you snapped at them with a slightly sharper, "Don't you have work to do?" that quietly dispersed the crowd chattering. Now alone in front of the door, you raised a hand to the doorknob and slowly pushed it down.

"The king," she had stammered when you had invited her in.

"What about Eret?" you had asked, your heart loud and hammering in your chest

"He is drunk and has thrown everyone out of the throne room. We fear a little for him, he had seemed upset after the ball"

"I have told you to leave," Eret's deep, slightly slurred voice rang out as soon as you opened the door. He didn't sound as angry and threatening as he might have hoped, though; the words trembled, pronounced much more through grief than anger. 

You pushed through a narrow crack in the door and shut it quickly behind you, not wanting any of the servants to catch even the slightest glimpse of the almost pathetic sight of their king, for that would make for rumors spreading like wildfire beyond your control to suppress. 

Immediately, your concern reached its peak, and you rushed across the room to drop onto the steps in front of him. His red dress flowed like water down his slender form, the same color as that in his cheeks stained by tears and most likely alcohol. On the floor lay an empty bottle of wine, also red. 

But it was truly pathetic.

The walls were still adorned with the decorations of the previous night's ball, scarlet curtains and banners, red rose vines scrambling up the walls, milky cloths through which you had danced only a few hours ago hung ghostly in the room, which looked like an abandoned painting without the mask-clad people and the violin music, and in the middle of it all Eret. He was stretched out on the steps in front of his throne, his crown and his blood-red mask lying on the seat, to which he had turned his back. He had his eyes squeezed shut, and though he rested his head on one arm and hid his face slightly in the crook, you saw the telltale wet glisten on his cheeks. 

"What's wrong, Eret?" you tried to bring him out of the thoughts he had probably plunged into, as he so often did. He disappeared into this world where he was getting caught up in things and worrying about events that were completely different. It was a place you couldn't follow him to, no matter your promise to be with him always and everywhere. To you, it felt like a breaking of that very promise, a betrayal and simultaneous heartbreak that you couldn't be where he probably needed you most, that you could never be there.

Eret's response to your question was absent except for an aborted sob. You slid closer on the step, placing an arm gently on his shoulder. "Eret? Come on, it's me, you can talk to me, can't you?"

"That's the problem" Ouch... "You're part of my problem" Double ouch "I don't think this problem would exist without you" You were sure your heart couldn't break into smaller splinters and yet Eret proved you wrong in this hope. He opened his eyes, stared at you through his pearly white pupils and stood up with a jerk. The dress rustled with the frantic movement, falling down on him no longer smooth and noble, but crumpled and moistened with alcohol and tears as he staggered trying to find his footing. You had jumped up with him, puzzled and hurt at the sudden cold shoulder, when just hours ago you had been dancing together. 

"Eret-," you took a step toward him, he stumbled back two. "Eret cut the bullshit and tell me what's going on now!" you commanded in a shaky voice, you didn't know how to deal with all the emotions that were bubbling up inside you and threatening to sweep you off your feet just thinking about how he had flinched away from you and the warmth in his gaze had been replaced by a cold, impenetrable wall, but something was very wrong with Eret. It had been your promise, your oath to be faithful, where you had given yourself to him completely, with all your heart, and you couldn't ignore that because of your own weakness for him. He needed you, even if his words went through your feelings like sharp knives. 

Eret fell backward against his throne and raised a hand waveringly, pointing at the doors with a stone-hard facade. "Go, leave me alone, that's what you're going to do anyway". 

"I beg your pardon, what?" You thought you were the one who had been drinking, because what he said definitely made no sense. Confused, you looked at him. "Where did you come up with such nonsense? Why and where would I go, please?" 

He laughed out, but not in the deep and full laugh full of joy, he was exasperated. "I know you danced with Sapnap, i saw you two dancing more than you danced with me! You danced with Sapnap and couldn't stop listening to all the great things he said about Kinoko. At least admit you'd rather live there and don't lie to me." Eret took a shaky breath.

You exhaled shakily. Tears threatened to burst from your eyes as you saw the fear in Eret. "I won't leave you," you whispered, because if you spoke louder, you wouldn't be able to hold back the tears and you would both cry, and then you wouldn't be able to help him. Again you took a step toward him, up the steps, until all you had to do was reach out your hand to bridge the remaining distance between you. 

Eret looked up, his cheeks wet with fresh tears, and he sobbed out. "I love you, please don't leave me. I don't want to be alone"

The pile of broken pieces reassembled into your heart at the confession you had dreamed of for so long, only to be destroyed again when Eret helplessly reached for your hand, as if you would want to flee from him now that he had laid his feelings openly down to you. But you wouldn't, there was no reality in which you would ever leave Eret, could leave him.

"I love you too," you answered him honestly "I love you and I'm not going anywhere, do you understand that? Nowhere where you are not too. You'll never get rid of me Eret, never again". 

It wouldn't be easy to convince him of this confession later, you would have to sit down quietly and talk about all the changes ahead of you, but when Eret pulled you into a desperate kiss that tasted like fruity wine and salty tears, everything was okay, at least for the moment. 

WILBUR:

Wilbur was a man of many things, he mastered the power to give uncertain and lost people the feeling of togetherness and family, he could draw the best out of the most hopeless situations and awaken in everyone the desire to want to fight for something

Wilbur was also a man for whom and his words you fell without wanting to ever to be caught, completely and with all your heart

he had picked you up, like everyone else in L'Manburg he had taken you in and given you a purpose

you had supported Wilbur in the election, were hard at work writing notes at every debate, and spent long nights with Will thinking about next steps

after Schlatt banished Wilbur and Tommy from Manburg, you followed them to Pogtopia, packed all your things in a bag and stepped out of your house without once looking back

Wilbur was your constant, your rock without whom you would sink hopelessly in the merciless world, and you became his muse, the cause for which he wanted to fight. Not that you told the other, you showed it in the things you did for each other

there were days when he showered you with affection, told you at every opportunity how proud he was of you and how glad he was to have met you. On those days he reached for your hands, hugged you or blew a kiss on your cheek, after which you always touched the place where just a moment ago his lips had been feather-light, in disbelief.

you never defined what exactly you were, lovers, friends, soul mates, two hearts found in the darkness, giving each other comfort and light for an uncertain period of time, a temporary relationship.

there were nights when Will needed your company, holding you close, and when you were his anchor, his salvation from drowning in fears of the future and the great something that was approaching and lurking in every shadow of the cave that had become your home.

there were moments when you were the only one who could pull Will away from the abyss, moments when he wanted to give up everything or, on the complete contrary, was about to rush out and take the problem out of the world

your "relationship" was a flame, a flaming heat that engulfed everything and to which you surrendered as an escape from reality and a dream of a future for which you both fought

Every evening there is this one moment between sunset and night. A brief moment when the sun has already disappeared behind the horizon, the last pink and purple clouds drift across the sky, and the all-consuming darkness approaches. 

A moment when there is no time, just Wilbur and you. 

It was quiet in Pogtopia, Techno and Tommy had retired to their beds, with the flicker of a lantern still lighting the cave walls from the corner of Techno's small area, casting your and Will's shadows against the gray stones. 

The shadows fascinated Will, and for several minutes he had been raising your interlocked hands and twisting them in all directions, spreading his fingers and laughing in excitement when he recognized an animal in the shadows. He was drunk, the empty bottle of wiskey lying beside him on the crossbar, and his breath with each laugh smelled of firewood, pines, and cigarettes. He was drunk, again, and had been pacing back and forth madly in an office knocked into one of the walls, tussling his hair over mysterious plans. Plans he didn't even share with you. He was drunk, and yet you had followed him up your beam, a sturdy piece of wood that reached across the ravine. It was placed directly under the only gap to the outside, you couldn't see much as bushes and foliage obstructed your view of the sky, but the last golden rays of the setting sun still made their way through the dark greenery and gently brushed your face.

You turned your head to look at Will. His eyes were still focused on the shadows, pupils large and lips slightly parted he looked at the wall until he felt your gaze and turned as well. His brown stubborn hair hung in his face and as you reached out a hand to brush it away, you felt the dust and grit in what used to be hazel brown hair. They had turned gray, lacking the shine and shimmer, just as the spark in Will's eyes was missing. 

No, it wasn't missing, it was different. 

Once it had been revolution, a stirring power had been in his eyes, sweeping you off your feet like a tidal wave and at the same time holding you carefully when you lost your footing. Today you saw little of that, of the slightly youthful recklessness, the fun, the will to make something happen even when it seems almost impossible. Now there was rage in his gaze, rage that would strike mercilessly over you and everyone in its path, drowning you beneath its waves if you couldn't swim. 

"You look sad," Will said after a while. 

You shrugged your shoulders. "Do I?"

He nodded, his dark eyes roaming over your face and lingering on your pressed-together lips. "You often look sad," his gaze continued to linger on your lips and he ran his tongue over his own "Is there anything I can do to make you happier?" he asked. He was already turning his upper body closer to you, the beam creaking under the slight movement. 

Again you shrugged your shoulders. You ran your fingers over the back of his hand, over his bandaged knuckles and rough skin. "You could tell me what you and Tubbo are plotting for the festival". 

The words echoed off the walls of Pogtopia, smothering any sound, and though they were inescapable between you, Will didn't answer, but put his lips to yours. You kissed him back, with the desperation of someone drowning, clinging to anything remaining familiar, because in all the chaos of Pogtopia, the change in the man who leaned over you and put his hand behind your head, the feel of Will's lips was still the same. He kissed you so he wouldn't have to answer, and yet every movement of his lips spoke for what was unsaid. 

"I love you," Will murmured into the kisses, the words as raw as his lips and tasting more bitter than the alcohol on his tongue.

"I love you," he repeated those three words and you sensed he meant them, sensed the emotion in his drunken kisses. It's the truth. 

"I love you," he said louder as he pressed his forehead against yours and your interlocked hands lay between your bodies.

For a moment, time stands still. The last rays of the sun move across the gap in the cave, illuminating your sanctuary in pink and gold, and you see a spark in Will's gaze, befuddled by whiskey and a dream of a future close enough to touch. 

"I love you," Will whispers, and you see tears glisten in his eyes. It sounds like a promise. 

The moment passes, darkness takes over the sky and the flicker of Techno's lamp goes out, taking the shadows with it and the last bit of light. Night falls, crushing and harsh and lonely. 

The moment becomes the past, and though the sun will rise again tomorrow and set again tomorrow, you know it will never be the same. 

"I love you," Will speaks into the silence. An apology for what will come with the sunrise. 

You swallow hard, trying to remember the feel of his lips on yours, chasing their trail, and it grows heavier, receding further and further into the distance, like a dream that had slipped from your fingers. "I love you too"

SCHLATT:

the first time you met Schlatt, he had watched one of Will's speeches from a distance, a power in a black suit and a stern expression on his face that had twisted into a grin at your dry "What a load of bullshit"

you didn't make it easy for him, you stayed out of his way when he clearly tried to approach you during walks through Manburg and Schlatt loved a challenge

he invested a lot of time getting to know you, inviting you on dates that sometimes you didn't show up for because you didn't feel like it and other times you knocked on his office door at night, deprived of sleep and bored. You knew he was staying longer in the White House than anyone else, so you enjoyed the time alone, playing a game of chess or poker

you finally let him into your heart, accompanied him to political events, dragged him to museums or on long walks through nature, on which you - far away from the eyes of the world and hungry paparazzi - let yourselves fall into the high grass and just watch the rustling of the leaves above you, your hands intertwined

it was on one of these walks that Schlatt kissed you for the first time. You were lying side by side in the grass, Schlatt propped up on his arm and stroking your cheek with one hand before he leaned down and breathed a soft kiss on your lips. You had put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down to you, deepening the kiss

After the kiss everything was different, changed for the better. Schlatt took your hand in public whenever he felt like it, ran away with you from journalists and you spent many nights in his office cuddled up on the couch

he gave you many expensive gifts, jewelry, clothes, armor, swords, everything you looked at or thought about was at your home a few days later, wrapped in white paper with a red bow around it

despite this intimate relationship, you did not know exactly what your status was, or what Schlatt hoped to gain from it. He was an important man who gave daily speeches to the press or the citizens, spoke of Manburg's plans for the future and made promises, but he had never once said a single word about his feelings, about your plans for the future

it was what you had been afraid of when you fell in love with him and let him get close, you hoped it would not be your downfall

Laughing, you slapped Schlatt against his chest with your free hand as he once again took your words and twisted them. "Of course not," you replied, and Schlatt's feigned horror turned into a self-satisfied grin, "I doubted your execution skills," you added cheekily, which resulted in a pecking index finger to your side, which made you squeak away and press closer to Schlatt. The man pressed a kiss into your hair before his previously attacking hand intertwined with yours again. "No, it's really quite fabulous," you handed him an olive branch of peace to avoid being pulled into yet another tickle attack and let your gaze wander over the colorful Manburg Festival. 

"I must say, you've outdone yourself"

"Oh, so you doubted me and my fantastic planning skills?"

The meadow in front of the big podium had been transformed into every fair lover's dream overnight. Colorful booths had sprung up like flowers, offering everything from sweets to savory treats, souvenirs and games, decorated with colorful flags fluttering in the light breeze and self-painted signs. You recognized many of the games, duck fishing, can throwing, dunk the man and even some unfamiliar ones were there that almost piqued your interest even more. 

Schlatt watched your wide eyes shining with anticipation for a while, giving you time to take it all in while his gaze was on you, warm and full of emotions that would answer some questions if you would just turn your head slightly and look at him. 

But that's exactly what you didn't do, you consistently looked at everything but him for the simple reason that you were afraid to tell him the truth about your feelings to his face. Instead, you pulled him in the direction of a booth, Schlatt smiling behind you. 

As it turned out, Schlatt wasn't the best at sack races, not even close. While he tried to somehow hold on to the edge of the sack he was up to his hips in, one kid after another jumped past him across the fenced-in meadow. Again and again he looked desperately at you, but you continued to motivate him with loud clapping, which many of the other bystanders joined in when they realized that it was the president who was stumbling across the meadow. Your heart leapt more than Schlatt, the sight of him in the midst of this happy scene spurred fantasies in your head to a future filled with such events and family-friendly games. 

The rest of the day was similar... warm, just with a few more drinks and shots that Schlatt wanted to drink everything nicer with, because "if I hear one more kid screaming I'm going to blow this all off," but despite his slightly grumpy demeanor when there were a bunch of toddlers screaming on the mini Ferris wheel behind you, you saw his smile at other moments. It was once again his "I think it's stupid that I enjoy this" reaction to experiences in which he would rather slip into his Mr. Politician role because it was easier, instead of opening up to something new. At the very beginning of what was between you, whatever it was, you had often noticed it, the mask behind which Schlatt hid his insecurity, but slowly it disappeared and you kept getting to know new sides of him. For example, the lack of talent for sack race 

You moved from one stand to the next, hand in hand, arm in arm. Time flew by and as you headed for one of the last remaining tents, the sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon and only a few pink clouds drifted across the darkened night sky. Your cheeks were warm from all the laughing and shots you'd had with Schlatt throughout the day, and you felt like you were floating up there with the clouds. Your lips were sticky from the cotton candy the two of you had just shared behind one of the tents, you snuggled into his side while he complained about how sweet the cotton candy tasted and could hardly get enough of your sweet lips afterwards. 

At your laughter, he turned, his cheeks pink and golden and his gaze admonishing and playful and full of warmth. He reached for the next ball, which just barely brushed the top can of the largest pyramid, and it fell backwards onto the floor of the tent with a lonely "klank." At Schlatt's exasperated expression, you suppressed another laugh, but ended up snorting, deceived as a cough, which earned you another "Hey!" from Schlatt. 

You leaned your hip against the booth's wooden counter, your gaze much more focused on Schlatt than on the pyramids of cans and bottles set up as targets in the tent. As much as you wanted to focus on how he was living up to his promise of knocking over all the cans in one throw -well, doing his best- your heart was running in completely different directions. 

The many strings of lights dangling and spun across the square bathed Schlatt in a warm, golden light, and he never looked better. His curls were tousled, a crown of daisies lay between his horns and in the brown hair, and Schlatt had never once made an effort to remove them, not even when you had encountered Quackity. He leaned slightly over the counter, one ball in his hand and the other he used to imagine a wobbly throwing line, which in planning might have worked somehow, in implementation, however, the ball landed neither in the cans, nor in the bottles but fell from his hand backwards into the grass. 

"Feel free to buy more throws if you want to win one of the bigger stuffed animals," the young man behind the counter interjected, a money-making charming grin on his lips. 

Schlatt grumbled as he took the last of his three balls from the basket and examined it. 

You took a step closer to him, gently placing a hand on his upper arm. "You don't have anything to prove, you know that, right?" you spoke softly that the vendor couldn't hear any of it over the din of the still-full festival. "The evening was great enough, I don't expect a cuddly toy, really". 

"Bullshit," Schlatt clicked his tongue and stood up straight. You could see the alcohol on him, but also the pure determination now more than ever to win you something. He turned slightly so he could better aim his throwing arm at the cans, then turned to you with a big grin. "I love you, and I'm going to get you that stuffed animal, cost it all the world! Hell, I'll buy out the booth otherwise!"

The muffled tinkling and clattering of falling cans following these world stopping words only reached you dully, in your ears echoed "I love you! he loves me. i love you! he loves me. i love you! he loves me." In one beat with the beating of your heart. You didn't know how you could take the next breath when Schlatt had just completely turned the world upside down. Nothing you could say or do seemed even remotely important enough to equal what Schlatt had just thrown at you. 

It wasn't until Schlatt spoke your name several times, each time with a little more concern in his voice, that your eyes found his. Everything was still stopped around you, you heard nothing but your own blood in your ears. 

"You love me?" you asked quietly in disbelief, unsure if it had really happened or was a game of your drunken brain.

Schlatt paused in his movement, looking at you with wide eyes and his arms wrapped around a big teddy bear. 

"Haven't I told you yet? Don't tell me I've never told you I love you". 

Silently you shook your head, but slowly the words got through to you and a smile played around your lips. "I love you," you grinned now, wide and with butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach, "I love you too."

[milqueandsugar]

Could you make headcannons for a reader who is chronically up late at the same times, not by choice, and how it is with different SMP members? Niki and Eret are preferred, but I'm okay with any others.

Also can I be 🌺 anon? If that's taken could I be 🧃?

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready 🏵

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: mentions of war

Welcome 🧃!

| Eret |

He doesn't mind much at first, to each their own

They quite enjoy their beauty sleep but if you were comfortable staying up late they weren't going to drag you kicking and screaming

That was until they caught on that perhaps your sleeping schedule was more out of your hands then he suspected

They bring it up, casually of course, and with much grace

You complain about your sleepless nights, nightmares of wars both won and lost keeping you up if your work isn't

And suddenly they are very invested in your sleep

"You should try this tea hun, it's supposed to help you sleep."

"Oh? Where'd you get this from?"

"Found it pushed away in the pantry, not sure if it works but it certainly tastes good."

The tea was fine, it certainly did make you sleepy, when you searched for R the next morning however you find the tag that went along with it

You aren't entirely sure why your lover is being so secretive about their concern for your health, to be honest you find it a little silly, but if they keep this up you might truly get a night's sleep in their arms, which is really what you want.

| Niki |

Old habits die hard, or so you heard

You never thought yourself a creature of habit, the countless wars made you adaptable and quick to change

But now you've settled down with you're lovely wife, and you've come to realize that years of conflict have perhaps left a mark on you

Nights, weeks, years sleeping with an eye open have made any breeze outside an enemy, any breath stirring you from any sleep you can catch, it makes a night in the bed of your lover a purgatory

Despite the lovely view she is you just want to sleep.

Niki catches on to your troubles quickly, a few times you've even stirred her awake

You first begin sleeping in separate beds, but then you were not only awake but awake, miserable and lonely, so you came crawling back quite quickly

Next was exercise, surely if your body was tired you would have to konk out

Yet no matter how hard you put your back into your chores, or some.. activities with your wife, had brought you any rest

Eventually you caved and tried a salve, the medicine was bitter and chalky but it worked

Niki found ways to bake it into your dinner and baked goods, which made it far more bareable and for once, it was your lover kept awake by you're snoring

[moriiartist]

LIKE INK IN WATER

Masterlist

Taglist

PAIRING: Ghost!Eret x GN!Reader

SUMMARY: Get a job as a tour guide at the local historic castle!’, they said. ‘It’ll be fun!’, they said. Well, now a specter of the last monarch to be crowned in its old halls has decided you’re the best thing since sliced bread, and you have to live with it.

WARNINGS: Mild language, implied/referenced death, implied/referenced murder, body horror, fainting mention

A/N: Okay- I know the warnings look bad, but in my opinion the fic is a lot lighter than it may first appear. Don’t judge a book by its cover, or... something. Anyways, enjoy, and remember to take care of yourselves y’all!

When you stepped into the darkened, cavernous expanse of the great hall from the brightness of the front lawns, you had only two things on your mind: a fresh cup of coffee and your need for a new jacket.

The squeaking of your sneakers echoed off the high stone walls and reverberated throughout the room, no doubt audible throughout the empty building. It was difficult for sound to permeate the castle’s infrastructure; the birdsong, the wind, all of it was muffled. You could almost forget that there was a world outside of the site’s sprawling grounds, that you hadn’t been transported back into the dark ages.

The emptiness was unnerving, especially during your first few days on the job, but you’d quickly grown to love it while it lasted. The serenity wouldn’t last long- not when, in about an hour, the castle would be swarming with tourists and their ankle biters.

“‘Morning Sam,” you murmured blearily as you dumped your bag onto the security kiosk’s counter, rifling through it for your employee ID. 

“Guess again,” a cheery voice greeted you, and you paused. Blinking up at the person behind the glass, you felt your eyebrows shoot up so fast that it almost hurt. The grin that spread across your face was painful in its own right, wide and broad.

“Tubbo! I didn’t know you were working today,” you beamed, sleepiness forgotten as you greeted the teen. His grin, coupled with a bright gleam in his eye, was even brighter than your own.

Tubbo shrugged, a mirthful gleam in his eye as he took your offered ID and scanned it into the security system with deft fingers. The bright glow of the computer screen illuminated his youthful features and compact, soft face, turning his skin a ghostly shade of pale blue. Catching your eye, he grinned mischievously.

No doubt about it. If Tubbo died and somehow came back, he’d be a poltergeist.

Although he was only eighteen, he’d been working at the site for three years; much longer than you, barely a month in. Security, site maintenance, guiding tours- he’d done them all. The two of you had grown close, what with all the time you’d spent around each other, and although you would be hard-pressed to admit it, you had begun to think of the kid as a little brother.

“Sam was sick today, and couldn’t come in.”

You nodded sagely. “Ponk?”

“Ponk,” he agreed.

Despite the fact that you could count the number of times you’d met Ponk on two hands, it’d been enough for you and the rest of your coworkers to develop a healthy fear of her. She was perfectly nice, if a bit of a prankster, but when it came to Sam’s workaholic tendencies…?

You winced. He definitely needed the rest, but you did not want to know what atrocities Ponk had committed in getting him to stay home for the day.

The computer beeped, and Tubbo slid your ID back through the slot in the glass with a grin. “I heard you’re chaperoning some ghost hunters this weekend.”

Rolling your eyes, you chuckled. “Yeah. It’s kind of stupid, but I’m getting paid overtime for it, so.”

“Really?” he hummed, tipping his head to the side and cupping his chin in his palm. “Sounds like someone’s a skeptic.”

You hesitated.

“I don’t… know,” you said, drawing the words out. “As far as I’m concerned, the spookiest thing in this castle the lack of air conditioning. I’ll mind my own business, and so can the ghosts- spirits, or whatever.”

“Fair,” Tubbo snickered, his grin widening into something with entirely too many teeth. “You’ll have to tell me what show came by. I want to watch the footage when the episode releases.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you later, Tubs,” you sighed, ignoring his blatant attempt to psyche you out.

“Good luck!”

Kentillie Hold was many things to many different people. To you, it was the place where you spent your working hours, spouting scripts to visitors and their bored children. To historians, it was the crowning jewel of an ancient kingdom to rival Britain’s own, and the setting for one of the most brutal executions in history. To tourists… it was pretty and a good place to pose for Instagram pictures.

And it was, apparently, one of the most haunted places in England. At least, according to all the ghost hunters and paranormal enthusiasts that swamped the place, it was.

If you had been asked if you believed any of those claims a month ago, you would’ve called bullshit. Since your childhood, ghosts had always been a scare tactic that’d been used against you to, whether it be just to elicit some sort of reaction, or coerce you into doing something out of fear.

Years had passed, and you’d long since come to the realization that ghosts weren’t something to be afraid of- because they weren’t real. It was kind of ridiculous, the idea that the spirits of the dead had returned to the world of the living to just… hang out?

However, since your time spent at Kentillie, you were beginning to reconsider your stance on the subject.

It was easy to imagine that a place like the Hold was filled to the brim with ghosts. It was old- very, very old. Though there’d been no written record of when it was built, it had been estimated to be around 1040- almost twenty years earlier than Berkhamsted Castle. The stone walls and portcullis were crumbled and grey with age, with vines of ivy and climbing roses continually threatening to overtake the structure entirely.

Entire sections of the castle were forbidden for both staff and visitors to enter because of the rot that had done away with the castle for years before its restoration. One of the maintenance men actually had to quit because, while taking a shortcut through the restricted rooms, he had fallen through the floors and into the dungeons.

The Hold needed a lot of maintenance, too. It seemed like every other week something needed to be repaired or replaced. In fact, you’d heard that over the weekend the mirrors in the King’s Chambers had needed to be deep-cleaned. Something about the metal backing rusting and causing red fluid to start leaking out of the glass?

You had only held your job for a brief time, but that was more than long enough for you to begin to notice the… odd happenings within the site’s halls. Stuff- yours and your coworker’s- consistently disappeared and reappeared in spots they definitely weren’t in before. Guests mentioned hearing disembodied voices near closing hours, footsteps that followed them down the hall; movement out of the corner of their eyes that, when they turned to investigate, revealed nothing there.

The earnestness with which they recounted these events was enough to make even the most hard-core skeptic waver in their beliefs. Unnerving to say the least- especially when you were a witness of some of these encounters yourself.

You did your best to put it out of your mind, but more often than not you felt watched. The sensation of intangible eyes boring holes into you during your work shifts was a familiar one. Random chills, goosebumps, and running into inexplicably cold patches of air, even more so.

Acknowledging it only invited childhood fear back, so you didn’t. At least, not consciously.

More importantly than the Hold’s age or the toll that time had taken on it in reinforcing the mythology of paranormal happenings was the history held within its hallowed halls; the long, winding tale of one of the most powerful (and obscure) royal lineages to ever exist, and of a betrayal that rivaled the drama of the Ides of March.

“Do any of you know who the last reigning monarch of Kentillie Hold was?” you asked politely, gaze sweeping over the faces of the tour group you were leading. They stared at you, faces blank and uncomprehending. Someone coughed.

After checking in with Tubbo, you’d been launched into the routine that dictated your day-to-day work life: you stowed your stuff away in the staff room (which was really just a repurposed part of the cellar), changed into your uniform, and prepped for the tours that you were slated to corral. It was well past noon and you were leading your fourth- and most boring- group of your shift.

Despite the difficulty, you kept your smile staunchly plastered across your face. It wasn’t very often that you met someone who knew, given how deep the Herobrines were in the British monarchy’s shadow. However, having to explain the same thing over and over again to people who rarely cared was… tiring, to say the least.

Since it was a weekday, there were fewer people visiting. The ballroom was quiet, the hushed voices of guests barely audible against the rush of wind outside the small, port-like windows. Your voice was the loudest by far, all those Drama lessons you’d taken helping you project your voice to every corner of the space.

Before you could continue, resigned to your fate, a tiny hand shot up into the air. “Eret Herobrine!”

Your eyebrows flickered up as you gazed down at the little girl who’d answered your question, a determined gleam to her eye as her gaze met yours. Softening, you graced her with the most genuine smile you’d given throughout the duration of the tour.

“Very good!” you enthused. “They were the seventh and last reigning monarch of Herobrine.”

Stepping to the side, you gestured to the painting that’d been hung directly behind you. At your cue, the light coming through a nearby window strengthened, setting the bold colors that comprised the work alight with a fiery vibrance. “This portrait here depicts him at the height of his rule, right around the time of his coronation.”

The tourists ooo’d and ahhh’d, some of the more industrious taking out their cell phones or cameras to snap a pic. You couldn’t blame them for their enraptured reactions- you’d felt much the same the first time you’d seen it.

That painting- ‘Winter After The Coronation’- was one of the many mysteries of the Hold. It was ancient, but somehow throughout the years, it had managed to remain as pristine as the day it was framed. Whether it was because it was found stored within the walls of the castle, far away from the elements, or through some method of sealing or making paint that made it immune to weathering, the artistry was pristine.

And oh, was it breathtaking.

Brought to life on the canvas was the likeness of a tall, aristocratic figure, clothed in a furred red cape and dripping with gold. They were standing in a garden, snow falling in thick flakes and tangling in their long, curly dark hair; catching in their eyelashes and clinging to the branches of holly and yew that framed their face like a thorny crown.

Somehow, the painter had managed to capture the texture and feel of the expensive fabrics draped across his form, the play of light across his face, and the cool flush that the biting wind brought to his face. Eret’s eyes were dark and warm, his brows arched and expression serene. The suggestion of a smile lingered around the lines of his mouth- like he knew a secret that you didn’t.

“As you all can see, she’s not wearing a crown,” you extrapolated after allowing the visitors to admire the work for a few moments, drawing their attention back to you. “This is just one of the many mysteries surrounding Eret and her reign. Paintings were extremely expensive to commission, and so most royals in the Herobrine line only had their portraits taken once or twice in their lifetime.

“So, why would Eret choose not to appear in their crown, as so many of their predecessors did? Why would they remove their most defining mark of status, one of the only things that could’ve been used to identify them once they’d passed on?”

The little girl who had spoken up frowned. “Maybe he thought it was ugly.”

You laughed, turning your head to look at the canvas once more. The painted eyes almost seemed to stare back, hidden truths swirling within their depths.

“I guess we’ll never know. It’s not like we can call her up and ask her,” you joked, earning a few smiles from the peanut gallery. It was muscle memory to glance away from your tour group while they chattered amongst one another and make a sweep of the room, checking for any guests that might’ve wandered away. 

Movement from the corner of your eye drew your gaze.

Squinting, you hazarded a step closer to the source of your distraction, one of the many mirrors that dotted the walls. Some insane interior designer had gone absolutely crazy with mirrors- almost every vertical surface was covered with them, and they were large. We’re talking floor-to-ceiling, non-stop reflective action.

Now that you were looking at it, nothing seemed amiss… but you could’ve sworn you saw something. You were confident enough in your suspicion to draw even nearer, close enough to touch the glass surface if you reached out.

There- at the very edge of the mirror, you barely caught the flutter of a cape sliding out of view.

You blinked once, twice, three times, feeling your heart pick up in pace. You glanced behind you. Nobody was wearing anything resembling what you’d seen- except, perhaps, the elegant old woman in the red trench coat that was perusing the floor, arm delicately linked with her husband’s.

Leaning back, you smoothed your hands down the shirt of your uniform, taking slow, measured breaths. Nothing else appeared in the mirror, and you felt yourself begin to calm down. You even managed to force out a breathy chuckle.

Oh, you would be having words with Tubbo later. The dude must’ve been more effective at freaking you out than he really was.

You pointedly ignored the prickling sensation as every hair on your body stood on end.

Ushering the group along, you led them through the dark hallways that wound throughout the interior of the Hold. Your path was lit only by the flickering beeswax candles that dotted the walls every ten paces or so; you pointed them out to your tour group, remarking how, back in the day, they used tallow candles made from animal fat instead.

Only one place was left for you to visit before this particular tour was over, and that was the Hold’s most famous room: the Royal Suite.

Located on the uppermost floor, the sprawling chambers took up almost the entire level- with only a little bit of space for the receiving room, where guests could sit and have tea. 

Unlike the rest of the castle grounds, the Royal Suite and the adjacent areas were completely forbidden for guests to enter by themselves. Only tour groups were allowed to access them, so the delighted gasps and assorted sounds of awe that arose as you pushed open the heavy cherrywood door were… pretty par for the course, actually.

If you had to pick which part of Kentillie grounds was your favorite, you’d be a dirty liar if you didn’t at least mention the opulent rooms that awaited you beyond the open doorway.

When the castle was restored, the most work and effort was put into the Royal Suite. According to what records were available, this was where the Herobrine family’s reigning monarchs ate, slept, and lived; it was a testament to the wealth they’d gathered throughout their long stewardship of the British Isles.

You watched with keen eyes as the guests spread out, gaping at the craftsmanship that had gone into every inch of the connected chambers.

Detailed paintings of wildlife covered the walls, depicting everything from gnarled forest trees to different kinds of birds, foxes, and weasels. The floors were polished to a mirror glaze, made of some type of dark red granite. Overhead, porcelain chandeliers that burned with a thousand little candles cast rainbow-colored light throughout the room.

Plush carpets, woven thick enough that your feet hardly made a sound as you walked across them, padded the center of the space. Right on top of it was the canopy bed- one of the biggest beds, in fact, that you think you’ve ever seen.

Were you to lay down upon it lengthwise, you would have at least another half-meter or so of space on either end. The mattress was overflowing with pillows- the expensive horsehair kind that looked so overstuffed they might explode at any moment; each richly colored and embroidered with delicate furls of ferns.

To the right, you could see the short hallway that led to the cordoned-off bath chamber. Although it was forbidden to enter- something about structural integrity- you could still make out the play of light against the multicolored ceramic tiles that dotted the floor.

If your memory served you correctly, the majority of the space inside was taken up by a gargantuan claw-footed bath that the royalty would use to immerse themselves in perfumed water and flower petals. It was actually quite a flex in the olden times to have a room solely delegated to bathing, seeing as most people couldn’t afford to take them too often. Heating up the water, having servants haul it upstairs, and then only using it once before it was drained… 

Yeah.

To your left was the study, which also had a barrier to prevent any tourists from wandering in and breaking something. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, bracketing a lone desk covered with papers. One of the most interesting things about the Herobrine family was their value of literature and literacy; You think that Eret even wrote a book before she died.

You smirked. Right, you were just getting to that.

There were a few more rooms beyond that, used to hold meetings with local knights and lords- but you weren’t interested in those. No, you were much more focused on the room you were standing in. The one where they were murdered.

Clearing your throat, you gathered your audience before you, herding them into position at the foot of the bed. You spread your arms wide, and with the same amount of drama as an actor about to perform a soliloquy.

“This was His Royal Highnesses chambers,” you exclaimed, allowing your smirk to grow. You winked at the little girl from before, peeking out from behind her mother’s back. “Though some of you might’ve already known that.”

Earning a few chuckles from your audience, you allowed your arms to fall back into a neutral state. “This was where Eret Herobrine at the height of her rule ate, slept, bathed, and occasionally held court. One could say that is was the primary backdrop for her life.

“It was the backdrop for the end of her life as well.”

Stepping to the side, you circled the canopy frame, stopping right beside the headboard. Reaching behind it, you heard your tour group collectively inhale as you drew a long, wicked-looking dagger from out behind it.

“Only two years after their coronation,” you went on, spinning the blade between your fingers, “Eret was slaughtered in cold blood.”

Someone gasped as you stabbed the dagger into the pillow, just about where someone’s head would be if they were laying down. You laughed wickedly, enjoying their momentary shock. It had to be the most emotion you’d elicited from the group yet.

“Their very own personal advisor, a former knight by the name of Dream, snuck up into their chambers late at night and killed them. His plan was to put a new ruler into power: his lover, a lord by the name of George.”

You shook your head, sighing internally at the sheer audacity.

“Of course, he didn’t succeed. Both Dream and George were executed, while those who were accused of aiding them fled the land.

“Ultimately, though, Eret’s death was too much for the kingdom to take, and it crumbled into obscurity not long after. The remains of Kentillie Hold are all that remain of the proud Herobrine legacy, so thank you for booking a tour with us.”

The visitors all clapped politely, and you bowed.

“If you’d like to donate money, please deposit it in the boxes on the first floor.”

As the group dispersed, their hour long tour finally finished, you surreptitiously checked the blankets covered the bed. Although the blade you’d used was obviously plastic, you would still get in trouble if you damaged anything- and you could not afford the hundreds of dollars it would take to fix it if it got torn.

You jolted as something brushed your shoulder lightly, head snapping up to stare suspiciously at the empty space that surrounded you. Before you could begin to question it too much, however, you were distracted by a tug on your pants.

“Can I help you?” you asked, staring down at the little girl whose hands were securely fisted in the fabric of your clothes. Her parents rushed up behind her; the mother pulling the girl away and into her embrace.

“Sorry, she’s still learning about personal space,” the father said sheepishly. He turned back towards his daughter, face softening. “Didn’t you have something to give the nice tour guide, sweetie?”

Shyly, she extracted her arms from her mother’s hold, holding out a crisp twenty dollar bill for you to take.

“Oh!” you said, your previously bemused expression shifting into a gentle smile. “Thank you!”

You shivered as you crouched to take it from here, the temperature of the room seeming to have gone down by a few degrees. Rubbing at your arms, you offered her one last grin before her parents swept her away to the safety of the sunny outdoors.

Or- not so sunny. Shit.

How late was it?

Pulling out your phone, you blanched at the time that blinked up at you from the screen: 6:00 PM. It was well past the point you should’ve been making your way back to the staff room to get changed and drive home, and if you waited any longer you wouldn’t be getting back ot the house until at least midnight.

“Damn it,” you cursed. Luckily, no one else was around to scold you except yourself, the rest of the visitors having long since exited the room.

Starting the long trek to the first floor, you couldn’t dispel the goosebumps that had surfaced all over your body. Normally they would only last so long before they inevitably relaxed- but it was somehow different this time. Like you were reacting to something much different than what you normally dealt with.

The last of your tour group were exiting the building when you finally made it all the way down, breaths heaving and shaky as you momentarily braced yourself against one of the cold stone walls. You frowned down at your wobbly legs, bemoaning your lack of athleticism.

Most of the staff had already left. The majority of the work done in the Hold was either in the mornings or on the weekends, so on days like this the only people left at this hour were you and the security guards that patrolled the grounds. Tubbo was going to pack up soon, probably in about thirty minutes, so you had to be fast.

Maybe that was why you didn’t notice the electricity in the air when you barged down into the cellar-turned-staff room, complaining about the freezing air temperature as you slipped into the changing room.

Maybe that was why you didn’t notice the droplets of blood dotting the floor as you padded to your locker, checking the time once more with a harried expression. The soles of your feet were stained red, leaving sticky, bright footprints like a breadcrumb trail behind you.

Maybe that was why you didn’t notice the figure floating behind you until it was too late- until your hind-brain was screaming at you to run, to hide, to do anything but stay here. 

You could ignore a lot of things, but not your instincts when they were this insistent. Which is why, when the air behind you chilled in an upside-down facsimile of body heat, you finally recognized the storm brewing.

Your body went as still as the grave when you made eye contact with it in the reflection of your phone, breathing shallow. Your heart felt like a bird bludgeoning itself against the cage of your ribs, broken and bloody, and you whimpered softly when it blinked.

Turning slowly around, your breath halted completely when you came face-to-face with that of a corpse. There was no way that the thing standing- floating- behind you was human, although it took the shape of one. 

It’s skin was grey and lifeless, flickering with an inner light. It’s eyes were a pupil-less, pure white that glowed in the room’s shadows. It’s clothes, a loose ruffle shirt and thick woolen pants, were tattered and torn. The shredded edges swirled around it as if buoyed by an invisible wind.

For some reason, it seemed oddly familiar.

But most importantly- most horrifyingly- was the dagger sunk deep within its chest, covering the entire front of its shirt with crimson, viscous blood. As you watched, frozen with a mixture of shock and terror, small drops of it dripped onto the floor and landed with a spatter.

It inhaled, the sound rattling in its ruined lungs, before speaking. If you had to liken what its voice was, it was like the whistling of wind through the Hold’s ruined towers; the sound of the tree leaves rustling, the sound of the beeswax candles guttering.

“Hello.”

You shrieked.

The ghost, because that’s what it was, a goddamn ghost- winced, drifting slightly further away. “Ah. That is… not ideal.”

Half-convinced you were about to pass out, you braced yourself on your locker door, curling up like you were considering shoving yourself inside to escape this entire situation. You actually might, if it got any closer.

It raised its bloodstained hands out in front of itself placatingly, grimacing. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You looked at it, caught in the middle of taking another shuddering breath to scream for help. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

The ghost sighed, which was weird now that you thought about it because it didn’t need to breathe. It smiled awkwardly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was nervous. “... Hopefully?”

“You’re doing a terrible job at convincing me!” you laughed hysterically. You were kind of starting to hyperventilate at this point, and if you didn’t stop you were going to pass out. The ghost seemed to agree.

“You need to calm down.”

You glared at it. “Thanks.”

It hesitated for a moment. “This is… not how I wanted this to go.”

“How else could this have gone?!”

Pausing, it seemed to be thinking for a moment. You took the time to begin to edge out from your spot, angling for the door. If you moved quickly enough, you might be able to make it out of the building with your life intact.

“You have a point,” the ghost mused. Before you could blink, it was right in front of you again, pale lips curving into a grin. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

Oh.

You froze, heart leaping into your throat. You realized why it had seemed so familiar, why its appearance had niggled at the back of your brain. The ghost’s visage was a haunting echo of that shown in the same painting you’d seen over and over again for the past few weeks.

The sharpness of its smile, the secretive cast to its face, the way in which it dressed- down to the last detail, you realized. Ghosts are the spirits of the dead, back to walk the earth once more.

“Hello,” Eret Herobrine said, taking your hand in her own. The sensation was weird, to say the least. It was similar to when you would stick your hand out of the car window and feel the wind pushing at it like a physical barrier.

This was like that, but in the shape of a hand.

You shivered as they pressed a chilled kiss to your skin, feeling the curve of their grin like a physical brand.

“Eret,” He murmured, pallid eyes locked on your own. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

@blufr0st​ @itsonlydana​ @amearla​ @bapthadapper​ @redactedsouls​ @sina-the-idiot @icarusthefoolish @blockyshieldmaiden

[yettobedetermined7]

Imagine betraying L’manburg with Eret

[xavalav]

i think eret should've been apart of the eggpire. for funsies.

[blakeswritingimagines]

What they do when your sick

Dream: He takes care of you when you are sick, he does all he can to help you feel better and be as comfortable as possible. He usually makes you soup or tea, brings you blankets and water, and gives you lots of rest and encouragement.

Sapnap: If you are sick, he would bring you tea at 3 am in the morning, care for you when you're feeling under the weather, offer to make you a hot water bottle, sit with you and watch your favorite movie, and be your personal caregiver in sickness. He would do anything to make you feel better because he loves you and he wants to be there for you in your lowest moments.

George: He takes care of you. He brings you soup and crackers, and he makes sure you're comfy in bed. He'll bring you tissues and medicine and make sure you know you're loved. He'll sit by your side and make sure you never feel alone. He'll make sure you have fresh water and feel safe and comfortable.

Wilbur: When you are sick, he takes care of you with the utmost love and care. He always makes sure you're comfortable and have anything you need, and if you need space or quiet he makes sure to give it to you. He tries to cook your favorite foods, help you rest, and just do whatever he can to make you feel better. He also makes sure to be there for you emotionally and give you love and support. He wants you to be happy and healthy, and he'll do anything to make that happen.

Fundy: He makes sure you are comfortable and feel taken care of. He'll check your temperature and give you medicine, as well as any other care you need. He wants his partner to be happy and well taken care of, and he'll do anything in his power to make sure they are.

Karl: He thinks it's important to be more patient and supportive with you when you're sick. He would do everything he could to help you rest and feel comfortable. He would prepare meals and beverages for you, watch movies, or read books to you so you could relax, and help with any household tasks you are unable to do. He thinks when you love someone, you want to help them however you can and let them know that you'll be there for them through whatever they're going through.

Eret: When you become ill, he steps in as the primary caregiver. he prepares meals, administers medication, provides emotional support, keeps things clean and orderly, and generally acts as a caregiver and personal assistant. Eret makes sure you receive the care you need and that you feel loved and supported.

Foolish: When you are sick, he likes to spoil you with all sorts of comforting activities. He'll bring you hot tea, watch a movie together, and give you a massage. He really just wants you to feel cared for and loved. He's willing to do whatever it takes to make you feel comfortable and taken care of.

Niki: When her partner is sick, she is your go-to person for support. She makes sure that you are comfortable and have everything you need. She is there to listen when you need it or simply be present in silence. She is your person in every part of your healing journey, always by your side and ready to comfort you at any moment.

Ranboo: Once he finds out that you are sick, he feels it is his responsibility to make sure you stay hydrated and warm. He'll bring you soup and blankets, and he makes sure to ask if you need any medications. He is there to be your comfort during an uncomfortable time. He will be there to listen to anything you need to vent about, and he will do his best to provide you with whatever you need to feel better.

[minkyungseokie]

Influencers

All my favorite YouTube and TikTok influencers that are rarely written about!

Arthurtv

Arthur Frederick, better known online as Arthur TV, is a Jersey commentary YouTuber known for his entertaining commentary and calm.

Wroetoshaw

Harold "Harry" Christopher George Lewis better known online as W2S (short for Wroetoshaw), is a Guernsey-British YouTuber known for his FIFA Draft and Pack videos. He is also widely known for his real-life challenges with his family and friends. Harry is one of the seven members of the Sidemen.

TBJZL

Tobit John "Tobi" Brown better known online as TBJZL (short for Tobjizzle), is an English YouTuber best known for his FIFA gaming videos. He is a member of the Sidemen.

Jake Webber

Jake Webber is an American YouTuber and musician who uploads vlogs, music, and challenge videos. He is also known for his quick-cutting videos. He also has a live channel where he often uploads food videos.

Fundy

Floris Damen better known online as Fundy (also known as ItsFundy and FFundage), is a Dutch YouTuber and Twitch streamer known for his alterations and videos about the game Minecraft.

George Clarkey

George Arthur Clarke better known online as George Clarkey, is an English YouTuber and TikToker, best known for his funny commentary & reaction videos about trending topics. He has co-hosted the popular podcast The Useless Hotline Podcast

ChrisMD

Christopher Michael Dixon better known online as ChrisMD , is a Jersey YouTuber best known for his football challenges and FIFA pack opening videos.,He lives in London, England, United Kingdom.

Corpse Husband

Corpse Husband  also known as CORPSE, is an American YouTuber and musician from San Diego, California, United States. He is best known for his deep, distinguishable voice and playing Among Us with other YouTubers and Twitch streamers, along with his horror narrations.

Disguised Toast

Jeremy Wang better known online as Disguised Toast (or simply Toast), is an Taiwanese-born Canadian gaming YouTuber and Twitch streamer who mainly makes content around League of Legends and Among Us on both platforms.

Sykkuno

Thomas  better known online as Sykkuno is an American YouTuber, live streamer, and former Twitch streamer who is mainly known for his gaming content.

The Eret

Alastair better known online as Eret (also known as TheEret), is an English gaming YouTuber known for playing Minecraft on YouTube and Twitch.

Spifey

George "Geo" Anderson better known online as Spifey, is an English Minecraft gaming YouTube channel that shows off older versions of the game. Some of the content on Spifey's channel include listening to certain annoying songs to win money for a long period of time with users of Minecraft on the servers and trolling his friends with cursed Minecraft mods

Skeppy

Zak Ahmed better known online as Skeppy, is an American YouTuber known for his Minecraft challenge videos involving numerous contestants and his collaborations with fellow YouTuber BadBoyHalo.

Quackity

Alexis "Alex" Maldonado better known online as Quackity (formerly QuackityHQ), is a Mexican YouTuber and Twitch streamer known for playing the video game Minecraft and his raid videos.

kennysong

Kenny Song is a famous TikTok star, Instagram star, and food influencer from the US. He shares Asian cuisine and simple meal and snack options. He also posts shorts videos alongside his cooking videos

[sivyera]

Httyd characters reacting to you winning the dragon races

ft. hiccup, eret, snotlout, fishlegs, tuffnut, astrid, ruffnut

WARNINGS: bad grammar

CONTAINS: fluff

SONG: Power - Little Mix

A/N: In this headcanon is Stoick still alive. And I love this!

pictures are not mine

⤷ Hiccup

-Hiccup would be so proud of you. He would look at you with in awe. And he would be maybe little surprised because every time he participates in race he wins. His father would be proud of you as well. After you win he would run to you, hug you by your waist and showers your face with kisses. He would spend the rest of the day with you, telling you how amazing, cool and hot you were!

⤷ Eret

-Eret wasn't really interested in dragon races but when he starts dating you he was on every race of yours. He is in the crowd, cheering for you and at the end when is the black sheep released he is cheering for you even more. Now he's leaning against the railing shouting words of encouragement, for example: 'You got it babe' 'That's my girlfriend, you see how good she is!'. Your fan number 1!

⤷ Snotlout

-It would probably hurt his ego a bit but when he saw your smile and how excited you were he couldn't help but smile. His ego disappeared for a while and he was happy for you. Hookfang punched him with his tail a little in a sign to say something. He yelled at you with smile something like 'good job babe'. But he made a bet with you, if he wins next race, you would have to brush Hookfang's teeth.

⤷ Fishlegs

-Fishlegs would be very very happy. You were brave and so cool. And you and your dragon are such a good team. He would prefer your win against his own. Because he doesn't have to win. He would try protect you when is Snoutlout trying to take you a sheep by bumping into him with Meatlug.

⤷ Tuffnut

-Tuffnut would help you with winning. Of course he wants to win but he wants Ruffnut to lose. He is always pulling Belch's head to other side from the sheep or when Ruffnut is trying to stole a sheep from you he sabotage it somehow. Ruffnut is always so pissed about it but what she can do. She can punch Tuffnut multiple times for ruining their chance to win but Tuff can take it. For you.

⤷ Astrid

-Astrid is stubborn and competitive so she wouldn't let you win easily. It's always a competition between you two and the one who wins would give the one who lose some punishment like washing winners dragon or no kisses or swimming in cold water. But you always have so much fun which Astrid love the most. But she would be proud of you!

⤷ Ruffnut

-Ruffnut is competitive as Astrid but it isn't hard to beat her. She and Tuff are always arguing so when they are not paying attention you can stole their sheep. Ruff would be pissed and surprised but when she notice that you were the one who stole their sheep, she would calm down. You can stole a sheep from her whenever you want. Because when she is in love with you she will lose to you gladly.

[k1ng0fn0b0dy]

may i request eret, quackity, sam and foolish comforting reader? thanks x

Of course! Take care anon xx

Eret

His entire presence is comforting in and of itself. They are just a very good person to be around in general if you need calming down.

Eret has a very natural sort of peace-keeping personality that he'd definitely be very good with angry-sad people.

Her voice is just very soothing and she's got a few breathing exercises memorized.

Eret also has a bunch of extra candy laying around that he's not afraid of using to make you feel better, because you're not you when you're hungry.

That's not to say they're used to it though, they can and will startle pretty easily

As long as they care about you though, she'd still try to help anyways!

Quackity

He pulls a lot of the same tricks my Mexican mother pulls when I'm upset.

Which is essentially talking loudly over you and pretending you're not upset until it works.

Okay, jokes aside Quackity is very awkward around crying people so as long as your liquids are inside of you, he's good to go.

Quackity is very much of the mindset of 'comforting distractions' to take your mind off what's making you upset.

With jokes, stories, or even singing if that helps, though his default is Mexican lullabies (they're super effective, I can personally vouch)

He's also someone who'd set up an entire blanket fort just to platonically cuddle you.

but only because he read somewhere that hugs are supposed to make you feel better (pls don't tell this man otherwise, Quackity couldn't take it, he'd instantly explode and then you'd have to comfort him)

You can't rant to him though, he will have a million and one things to say

Sam

Sam is actually really good at handling people, even upset people

He's sort of just a natural, very empathetic and caring.

Not to say Sam does it very often, but he always tries to be there and let everyone know it

he's just naturally good at reading the room and catering to your needs

Need to eat your feelings? Sam has snacks! Need really shitty romance movies and a good cry? He quite literally has hundreds and tissues, go off.

A bit awkward with physical affection but always willing as long as you don't bully him too much for it

He's also a very good listener if you need to rant, Sam is also very good at giving advice (unless it's romantic, don't ask)

Sam just cares a lot, please do the same for him because he deserves it

Foolish

This man is a mess

Foolish will definitely try his best to comfort you, I can promise you that

Will it work? Probably not, this man sucks at genuine comfort

Unless his fumbling comforts you, in which case: He's amazing!

Does try really hard to be there for you and Foolish will definitely make a million stops at stores looking for your favourite comfort candy

He's the type to look up wiki-hows for comforting people but with his luck, it's a coin toss for making it worse or somehow fixing it

Has his sister and mom on speeddial and WILL rely on them for help in the event that he does, in fact, make it worse by using wiki-how

He does put a lot of effort into trying though so please let him know you appreciate that! (And also don't let Foolish try comforting anyone ever again)

{《☆》}

[Wow, I haven't posted anything for two months. A lots happened, certain things hit me real hard and life is quite possibly peak stressful right now. I'd just like to say that I hope all of you are doing well and taking care of yourselves.]

[I'm currently in the process of switching therapists and things are wack so I'm really sorry that I stopped writing for so long. I am healthy and taking care of myself so no one has to worry. I'd love it if all of you could consider donating to curesaracome.org and continue spreading Techno's memory.]

[That's all for now so take care.]

[L0v3, k1ng]

Taglist: @creatorofstars @hiwhatsupbruv

Masterlist

[ivergroves]

MY FAVORITE ERETLOUT FANFICTION WAS DELETED DONT HMU

[nerdysleepybunny]

Hi my sleepies! I’ve been dead for a bit so I’ve decided to feed you all a lil crumb. I thought of this whilst in the shower! This’ll be my first time writing for Eret, our beautiful underrated queen. They need some more love, so I’m here to deliver. Enjoy sleepyheads!

🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷

Fandom: DreamSMP

Character(s): Eret (romantic)

Reader: Gender neutral (you/your)

TW: N/A

Style: Short paragraphs

Summary: You’re helping Eret tidy around the castle, and subconsciously sing a little song. The queen is surprised by the lyrics. <3

“Thanks for helping me, Y/N.” Eret said as he walked up to you. You were dusting the windows, Eret helping get the spots you couldn’t reach. Your lover told you he was planning to clean up the place a little, and you knew it’d be a lot of work due to how big the place was, so you decided to surprise her by helping out! You showed up with some cleaning supplies, knowing you were welcome into the castle anytime, and the king of the SMP was more than grateful.

“Mhm!” You responded, too focused on cleaning. Eret took your duster from you, saying he could take over and suggested you organize chests instead. Your arms were getting tired from constantly having to extend then to reach the higher spots, so you gladly accepted your new task.

The silence was always comfortable with Eret. The two of you could sit and say nothing for hours without it becoming awkward. Just laying and relaxing in their embrace was more than comfortable, and you knew they felt the same. Though at this moment, you wanted something to fill the silence, and since you didn’t have a jukebox on you, you’d have to settle for the next best thing. Singing.

“I heard there was a special place, where men could go and emancipate, the brutality and the tyranny of their rulers…” The king froze. She’d heard this song many times before. They had to admit, it was a beautiful melody. She just didn’t enjoy the newer version of the song, specifically the part where her name was included. He hadn’t heard this song in ages. But he didn’t want to interrupt you, so she instead continued to clean and braced for what was coming up.

“Well this place is real, you needn’t fret! With Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, and Eret! It’s a very big and not blown up L’manberg!” This time, Eret turned and looked at you. Had he heard that correctly? She watched as you were crouched down, throwing some things onto the floor into multiple piles, before putting those piles into their own chests. You felt eyes on you, and had to hide your smile. You didn’t know why this one was the first song that came to mind, but you decided to sing it anyway. Although you decided to switch up the lyrics to see how your royal partner would react.

“My L’Manberg, my L’manberg, my L’manberg, my L’manberg…” You finished, finally finishing up with your chore. You heard the sound of Eret’s boots hitting the wooden floors approaching you, before feeling arms wrap around your waist and your queen nuzzling her face into your neck. You smiled and moved your hand up to play with some of his hair.

“Y/N…”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for including me, darling.” You felt him press a kiss to your neck, trailing up to your cheek. You giggled and shifted to place a peck on his lips.

“Anything for you, my queen.” You replied, wrapping your arms around their neck and pulling them close to you. Maybe the cleaning could wait for another day. <33

🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷

It always makes me sad when I hear the newer version of the L'manburg anthem were they say "fuck Eret" sooo I wanted to give our monarch some love! :D

Honestly, I’m not too sure how I feel about the DreamSMP ending. I’m kind of glad it ended, and I see why they did it, as it wouldn’t have been the same without Techno. But at the same time, I’m gonna miss everything. But like Tubbo said, everything must come to an end eventually. I’ll continue to write for the fandom, so feel free to go all out with DSMP asks once requests are opened again. I want to help keep this fandom alive. Just remember that things will get better, and you can take as much time as you need to heal. The news hit us all hard, you’re allowed to mourn in any way you see fit for as long as you want to. Take care of yourself, for him, for them, and for me. I love you all. Take care. 💗

[beepboodle]

❥pairing- C!Eʀᴇᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

❥notes- Eɴᴊᴏʏ ʜᴏᴍɪᴇs

❥warnings- Sᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ

❥genre- Fʟᴜꜰꜰ

❥summary- Bᴀʙʏsɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ Mɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ sɪɢɴɪꜰɪᴄᴀɴᴛ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴇʀᴇᴛ

ꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄ

Tubbo hadn’t been able to find time to always watch over Michael, and with Dream being out of jail it wasn’t exactly the safest to have Michael follow him around all day.

So the next best person was Eret. Seeing as Eret was one of the people that lended a hand in bringing Michael home, he doubted Eret would do anything to him.

Of course as Erets significant other you got the pleasure of watching Michael too.

It was positively heart warming to wake up and head down the grand stairs of the castle to be met with the sight of little Michael on the throne as Eret let him try on some of his many, MANY crowns.

Like you didn’t have more crowns from the extravagant amount of money Eret spent on them for you.

You love to tease Eret from how soft and parent-like she gets when babysitting Michael.

He won’t let anyone lay a damn hand on that kid or they’ll have their head.

You and Eret would dance in the kitchen with Michael on her shoulders, you stirring the bowl of cookie dough.

The days will usually conclude with you reading to Michael, Eret curled up and holding you from behind as he half-listened, mainly just because she loves the sound of your voice.

Michael would be laying on the other side of the bed, tucked in with droopy eyes.

It wouldn’t take long for Michael to fall asleep along with Eret. Which means you usually sleep in Michaels room. If anything, you’d never want to wake your significant other. Besides, they look so pretty when they’re asleep.

Of course Michaels room was big enough. The castle was so big they had room to give Michael his own personal room, and shit was the bed big. Not as big as Eret and yours shared bed but for a little kid? You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look like a little ant in a football field.

Eret would wake you up early, peppering kisses all over your face so that way the two of you could have some private time to cook breakfast together before the kiddo woke.

Both of you started to realize how much you liked to wake up feeling like parents so much. Eret had brought up the idea of adopting at some point and both of you agreed it’d be a great idea to think about.

The two of you both seemed more carefree and just in a genuine better mood babysitting.

Eret is also goofy as shit when Michael is around. Literally doing anything just to make his significant other and Michael laugh.

To put it simply, both of you babysitting Michael has made the both of you feel stupidly parent-like and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

[helloclouita]

Can I get a "Congratulation" in the Comments?, I'm Graduating tomorrow :.) And if you're not Busy can you Share this please?. Thank you!.

[moriiartist]

BACK TO NAVIGATION...

The tag list can be found here!

LOADING DESCRIPTION.TXT...

SYNOPSIS: Halloween is, quite literally, one of my favorite holidays. Period. So, since I wasn’t able to sate my thirst for spooks last year, I’ve concocted six fresh one-shots in my cauldron of writer’s brew! Do not resist the Halloween vibes. They are not optional.

SCHEDULE: Once per day from 10/26/22 to 10/31/22!

STATUS: Started 10/26, Ongoing

While the general tone of this series might be more lighthearted, this is a general warning that certain chapters contain darker content including: semi-graphic to graphic violence, blood, injury, body horror, etc. More specific content warnings will be posted alongside the chapters themselves.

LOADING FILE DIRECTORY...

10/26/2022

Candlewick | Witch!Karl Jacobs x GN!Reader | 2.8k words

You get caught in the rain and Karl comforts you. That’s it. That’s the fic.  

10/27/2022

Hunter’s Moon | Werewolf!Punz x GN!Reader | 3.1k words

You’ve always been fascinated with the stars ever since you were a kid, despite how people may have judged you for it. Sucks to be them, though, because they don’t have a werewolf boyfriend.

10/28/2022

Like Ink In Water | Ghost!Eret x GN!Reader | 4.7k words

Get a job as a tour guide at the local historic castle!’, they said. ‘It’ll be fun!’, they said. Well, now a specter of the last monarch to be crowned in its old halls has decided you’re the best thing since sliced bread, and you have to live with it.

10/29/2022

(Call The) Number Of The Beast | Demon!Tangotek x GN!Reader | 2.6k words

You thought it was a joke. A goof. A funny ‘ha-ha’ story to tell to your friends later- how you tried to summon a demon. However, things haven’t exactly gone to plan, and now you’re stuck trying to send a resident to hell back to where he belongs. Too bad that he’s decided that’s wherever you are.

10/30/2022

Wrong Turn (At The Right Time) | Vampire!Ethoslab x GN!Reader | 3.9k words

It was simple, the arrangement you had with Gem. She would let you study in the library before it opened; you would be gone before her boss came in. So… how did you wind up with a vampire for a history tutor?

10/31/2022

TBA

[fallen-elytrian]

I’m watching the Eret lore and experiencing emotions

This is going to be long and I’m not sorry

Just. Imagine you’re Eret. You join your friends cause, fighting against an oppressive nation. And you become close with the leader. It’s hard not to. Tommy, Tubbo, and Fundy are all children. You and Wilbur are the two adults in charge. You become friends. Good friends. Best friends, even.

But suddenly things get away from you. Things are getting too violent. You just want everyone to be friends again. To be peaceful again. So you betray your allies. You betray the comrades who trusted you with their lives. You betray your best friend. And you don’t fully realize the consequences of your actions. Not yet.

You do, eventually. When you see lmanburg not give in. When you see them keep fighting despite your betrayal. And you realize your mistakes. And how alone you are. And you left your best friend to run a revolution. Alone.

And you repent! You regret. You feel bad, you try your best to make amends. You throw away your crown and every power you have. To help your friend. For one last fight. One last time.

He seems to accept you! To accept your help. And you join forces with him and you agree to fight. And you almost get close again. Not quite like it was before. But it’s better. And you think you can become friends again. Maybe best friends again. Not now. Later. After the fighting is over. Maybe things can go back to how they were before.

And you win! You fight with Wilbur. You fight with pogtopia. You beat back Dream and Schlatt, and pogtopia wins! And maybe there can be peace. Maybe people can be free. Maybe you and Wilbur can heal.

Until suddenly Wilbur isn’t there among the crowd anymore. And people are looking for him. And they’re scared. And there’s whispers of a traitor. And you go looking for him. And maybe you’re running up the hill, running to where you can here Phil and Wilbur’s voices.

And the last thing you hear your best friend say, before ringing fills your ears and dust fills your eyes and the only thing that’s left of the nation your fought for is a crater. The last thing you hear him say:

“There was a saying. By a traitor. ‘It was never meant to be’”

How does that make you feel