"we need a gardener around here."
y/n fits right into Manberg's presidential house working as a gardener.
maybe they attract more than just blooming petals.
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yandere!dreamsmp x reader
(they/them pronouns used for non-specific gender purposes)
* R...
key - trigger warnings!: threats, possessive/obsessive behavior, mentions of derealisation, gaslighting, possible stockholm syndrome symptoms
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CALLAHAN'S COLLECTION CO., MANBERG.
" HEYYYY CALLAHAN! MY MAN! it's great to see you but i'm here for y/n. you remember our—" he paused to look away and snap his fingers as if remembering the right words to say. "arrangements, right? gosh i hope you didn't forget." while asher spoke, he took some gracious steps towards you, making you unknowingly panic and take two steps back. you didn't know what the hell he was talking about nor why your gut twisted so intently like wringing a soft towel, letting the water drip down an abyss of malice.
"oh i-"
"great! c'mon let's go! we're gonna be late!" he interrupted, eagerly getting close and grabbing your wrist. his death grip and immediate persistence, which dampened your mood with uncertainty, was so tight you almost let out a painful wince. instead, your eyebrows just stitched together into a permanent frown.
"i'm stealing them for a bit. you can have them later though! i promise!" asher yelled out to callahan, the two men slightly glaring at each other unbeknownst to you—you were in a daze trying to figure out the hasty situation laid out in front of you and how to deal with the sinister feeling bubbling inside and gnawing at your head—although asher held a vengeful, shit-eating grin comparable to a cheshire cat whilst callahan stood there with a more vexed expression. he could only watch the knight take you away from him with instant infuriation and displeasure, his own fist clenching and shaking.
just from afar, he could tell you were uncomfortable. he didn't know what exactly was happening, but he knew asher meant no good. and similar to you, he was also a bit confused and caught off guard at the quick exchange. in-spite of this, a part of him deep down felt ashamed and gutted. he knew he wasn't a fighter at all. he doesn't even have a voice to begin with so he barely gets angry when things get serious and he oughta be protesting, turning beet red, ripping out papers, tearing down bookshelves, and breaking glass. would he be able to defend you though?
meanwhile, asher was roughly dragging and tugging you along with all his strength which was utterly overwhelming—the man has muscles from boxing which he flaunted in the sleeveless shirt he wore—you almost tripping on your own feet trying to keep up with him. "asher!—" your eyes widened upon almost bumping into someone. "a-ash!? where are we going!?" you called out with desperation, finally stopping on the edge of the sidewalk. he steadied you as he noticed you almost fell back, carefully straightening your posture for you before keeping a grip around your wrist.
"you'll see." he could only say with a hint of mystery, meeting your gaze with a sly smirk and holding his arm up in the air in a certain signal. seeing the duo on the curb, a trolley stopped next to the sidewalk, letting traffic yield beside the vehicle. he gave your arm a squeeze, realizing that he wanted to be chivalrous and let you board first although you seemed to be in a existential trance, staring off in the distance beyond his face, baffled. that was his quick response to gently guide you on the trolley behind him with a somewhat difficult ease.
